Echoes: The Ramble

I understand the delusion that those awful singers with the overly supportive parents on XFactor are under, finally. I just had a conversation on the phone where after every sentence my own voice replied with the exact same sentence (obviously) and I swear, the voice I hear in my head does not sound THAT much like my Mother's.

I can hear the group of women smoking outside through the intercom. It happens sometimes when I don't put the phone down properly, and it's always more interesting to leave it than to put it back. Particularly when I'm playing Christmas songs loudly in the office... they hear my overenthusiastic singalong and I hear their conversations. They're talking about the weather. It's cold out apparently.

" I turned my face away and dreamed about you"

Every year Christmas gets here faster than I can arrange the presents. You'd think it would be hard to be crept up on when you are revelling in the creeper. It's like a relationship that ends ever so suddenly, you're so busy being happy and enjoying the perfection of it all you forget to remember they're a bastard.

Bitter sweet I know, but I hope you enjoy it like you enjoy Fairytale of New York by The Pogues.

Cos everyone loves The Pogues. You can't dismiss someone with such icky teeth. You have to pay attention, even if you don't mean to. You have to keep looking. Or listening, as it were.

All of today I've heard the word "Christmas" from everyone who cares to get within earshot. I'd say it's deja vu but, you know, its the 16th of December. It happens. But everyone says it in the same voice. A sort of exasperated tone with a mix of joy and stressed out eagerness, a tone that is repeated every year, like an echo.

Here's a jolly thought: Mulled Wine is only £2.75 around the corner, in a pub full of fabulous people in the Theatre industry. I can tell they are because Thespians wear great shoes. And talk about them. A lot.

"Bought these brogues for the Lost Christmas Press Night tonight"

"Fabulous darling"

Blooming Marvellous.

11online goes live!

Hola Barcelona!

I must admit, I knew nothing of the International Brigade and their galant resistance movement in Spain when I came into the Arcola Theatre to see Goodbye Barcelona, a "Passionate New Musical" playing until 23rd of December. Now I can in no way say that the knowledge I have gained has any historical accuracy at all... but what I DO know is that the soldiers and their senoritas could all sing in tune and gun battles were often accompanied by the echo of a Spanish guitar.
If only reality was as poetic as this story tells it. There were so many comparisons I could make to todays world and how we see it: people from all backgrounds and religions coming together with one common goal (strikes), poorest people giving the most (cuts), anarchy and revolution (student riots) and the human race united! (...well, not just yet).
This ensemble piece was skillfully choreographed for the Arcola's limited space and facilities, the cast building the set for every single scene and creating an atmosphere that, along with the music, took you to war grounds, Spanish cafe's, homes, convents, bars and bedrooms... There are many a West End show that struggle to achieve as much.
The love stories that underline the war torn tale were heartfelt; Rebecca and Ernesto (played by Lucy Bradshaw and John Killoran) pull you into a desperate romance in an even more desperate situation, and Sammy and Pillar (so much more romantic a name with a Spanish accent) create a young and tragic (you just wait) drama complete with prostitution, virginity, clumsiness and wine, though not in that order.
Mark Meadows and Jack Shalloo were the stand out performances of the night, both playing soldiers of mixed passion for the war and it's rewards. "Uncle" Jack (Meadows) was the mysterious character of the piece who's story, once told, was brushed over rather too swiftly after all the build up, though on reflection, I feel this might just have been the point. Jack kept the comedy coming, which was excellently written to sweeten the war zone musical, with drunken comments, eagerness for Sammy (played by the charming Tom Gill) to get some nookie and even more eagerness to NOT talk about himself, until... well, you'll just have to see. Shalloo was key to bringing the storylines and characters together, but did so with a subtlety so rare and difficult to achieve in a small space. I do recommend the front row seats, though of course there is a risk you may get accidentally get spit on, but you may not care because you'll feel like there is no one else is in the room. Never has Theatre been more 3D.
The score was repetitive but not in a distracting way. The songs told the story smoothly and did so in such collaboration with the set, actors and lighting, I was more than impressed. Yes, I may have to check Wikipedia (or other reliable sites available) on the accuracy of the play, but until I do that, I can settle with the knowledge I had a more than entertaining evening.

Say Hello London, to Goodbye Barcelona.

Paranoid rhymed with Humanoid

Tonight I walked home with an intense paranoia, so I combated it by mouthing along to the tunes on my iPod and making the people around me KNOW that I was more of a nutter than first they might have thought.

Only recently rediscovered my iPod. That bit of tech that gives the world a full blown soundtrack that is ever slightly more interesting than traffic, sirens, wind, footsteps and delay announcements that never quite keep in rhythm with my thoughts. Now suddenly, I'm in control of my very own private movie where the lady in the sickening snugly couple on the tube is in fact only sleeping with him for his money and shagging his brother on the side (Cheating Gets It Faster by Jimmy Eat World) and the baby in the pram is a complete genius with an IQ to the equivalent of always being sure if it's "who" or "whom" (Bohemian Rhapsody) (If I have to tell you who that is by then you should not be reading this and I think you should leave) (Okay you can stay but you are on your last warning) (Busted) (I'm so hilarious, I meant the Bee Gees).

Oh, I got mugged yesterday. But if you want REAL news, I also found the most perfect pair of boots online. They will be mine, oh yes, they will be mine. They will perfectly match my fancy designer purse that my Mum got me for my bir... oh yeah, that totally got taken unlawfully from my bag by a few lowlife scumbags... Anyhow the boots will totally go with my new found rage and bitterness. I mean, my stripey purple socks.

Going to find some sleep now... I think I left it in my pillow. One of them. I have lots of pillows. Big ones, teeny ones, normal ones and uncomfortable ones. Oh. I left the sleep in the uncomfortable one. Night!

Not a review...

You know those people who remain completely and annoyingly calm when everyone else is panicking and flailing their hands around? One half of my brain is like that and the other half is so preoccupied being annoyed at the annoyingly calm half so its forgetting to panic and flail.

"Panic" "No! Lets have brunch"

That's my brain having a fight.

I know, I'm insane. Insane people don't know their insane. So I'm sane.
Brain hurt?

I had a lovely birthday long weekend (who said I'm getting old!) seeing family, friends and bottoms of glasses and bottles. It's funny going home, there are pavemented areas in the market place, Internationale has moved, there's a new menu in the pub, my brothers got a girlfriend and my adopted sis has her tongue pierced yet nothings changed. It's the same, and it's so noticeably and comfortably small. I could never get lost there, I'd know exactly where to call a taxi to and where to tell him to go and who could lend me the money to pay for it. I miss it. But let's not be depressing, I live in London! Where if I wanted, I could never be found.

"That almost made sense" "No it didn't"

My blog. So ner.

Crazy For You

Crazy For You

This was one of those shows that makes you wish your life was a musical... where people you've never met spontaneously join in with your even more spontaneous dance routine in the middle of a sunlit street, where you wear your tap dancing shoes where ever you go, where heartthrobbingly beautiful and chiseled men serenade you and where you know everything will turn out just fine because, lets face it, you're in a musical!

If only eh?

Crazy for You does take you into this dream world... the Gershwin music fest involved one of the most enchanting renditions of Embraceable You that I've ever heard and the most spectacular drunk dance routine - fair enough the only one I've seen, especially one in a small Cowboy town's saloon... but pretty special all the same. The interchangeable set was a bit of genius and I hope that Peter Mckintosh uses it in his pick up lines... Of course the tap dancing routines were insane but the choreography smoothly running next to his moving and revolving set was just as, if not more, impressive and I hope Susan Stroman is proud, even if she does have an incredible wealth of projects to be proud of already.

The performances were genuine and powerful despite the first night (on the West End) nerves that any mentally sound person would have. The cowboys were eye pleasing as I'm sure the chorus girls were to the men in the crowd... saying that, I'll be honest, there wasn't an overload of women hungry men in the crowd... I wouldn't lie to you dear readers. Sean Palmer played Bobby Child with a Gene Kelly charm and a cuteness akin to that boyfriend most girls have had where they know they'd be useless in a fight but love them anyway and Clare Foster embraced Polly Baker as the tomboy-ish (but still manlier than most of the audience) cow girl with a sweetly beautiful soprano and a slightly faltering accent. 

I must say though, the first half much outweighed the second... To say it was a disappointment though is unfair, the dance routines were entertaining, the music energetic... It just felt like someone had written the first half of an essay weeks ago, was very happy with it and knew it would go down a storm and then has come back to the second half, the night before the deadline, resulting in a half-hearted, stretched out version of the notes. Basically it was lacking, perhaps the writers thought they had better wrap things up and get the audience on their way. I hope not.

Having said that, they were probably one of those annoying bastards who rushed it and still got a first.

Crazy for You was lovely and deserves all the five stars it can get. Here's another one.