Fringe Report: Week 1
Welcome to a world where the clowns are cooler than you.
I’m back. I’ve returned to the scene of the crime, the city of endless theatrical delights, the month of revelry and losing money as fast as it’s made. I’m in Edinburgh for my second Fringe.
Last year I had unique circumstances, and by that I mean, I had no circumstances: it was my first year and I was resigned to hating everything. The first day I ran around intimidated to death by all the posters and wondering why on earth I thought this was a good idea. I had a stupid little show and a stupid little time (1 PM in the afternoon) and I was convinced it was going to be a long, hard slog of FOMO and regret.
But then I actually started doing the show. I cannot stress the giddy delight of doing a one-woman-show every single day. I averaged about six people per show the first two weeks I was here and quickly realized the absolutely indulgent act of singing my silly little arias and telling my silly little jokes. Six people? Coulda been TWO! We had a BLAST!
By the end of the run, I’d grown my audience significantly and topped out at 27 audience members for my last Saturday show. (Who, me?) I had two pretty good reviews with quotes I could pull for posters. I had met loads of people. I’d done loads of spots.
And then, of course, there was the city itself. I visited all the bookstores and smelled all the flowers. I went to events for the Film Festival, the Book Festival, and the International Festival. I was freelancing at the time, so I was able to soak it up during the day.
This year I have a full time job, one that I got the offer for during last year’s Fringe. My first day at work was the Monday I got back from Fringe. My time to dilly dally around the city has significantly decreased, but where I wish to dilly dally and with whom I wish to dilly dally is more concrete, so it’s fine.
Plus, there’s the obvious benefit of knowing my rent for next month is paid regardless of how my show is doing. That makes it a significantly different Fringe than last year’s.
And I ain’t doing bad! I have, as of this weekend, sold as many tickets as I did for the entirety of my run last year. So even if no one else buys a ticket, I’ve improved. (Please, though, do buy a ticket. Or three.) I had 19 people in on Friday and 20 on Saturday, which is a wild, wild departure from the trickle of viewers this time last year. My show (cabaret about opera) at my time (4:45) with my… self (historically unfamous) does not lend itself to a rowdy, walk-up, sell-out crowd. This means 1) I am never in a position to compare myself to my Free Fringe or Berliner comic peers, and 2) I do tend to have less of an audience than my Free Fringe and Berliner comic peers, if casual conversations are to be believed.
All this aside, this year’s show is selling better than last year’s show. I listed myself in comedy last year (rookie mistake!) and competed with over a thousand other shows. Now I’m in cabaret, I’m on page 12 of the printed program, and I’m two clicks into the Fringe app.
I’ve returned with far more friends this year. I know the acts I want to see again from last year. I’ve learned that the coolest crowd is the clowns, and if you can get in with the clowns you can’t go wrong. (I did a spot on a show with the clowns, and I’ve never been so delighted!!) I returned to the West End Arts Fair, from whence my most glorious earings came, and two ladies running stalls recognized me from last year. (is she #famous or is she just #shoppingtoomuch)
This week I’ve also seen my friends do remarkable work in front of horrible audiences and keep their poise. I watched one late-night act absolutely kill it and then keep her cool as a string of men walked by, point-blank refusing to donate at the exit. I was heartbroken and furious. But that’s the gig – the devistation comes with the delight.
My first four shows are done, and no show has been the same. I quickly realized that a five minute French art song, no matter how beautiful it is, doesn’t work for the average viewer (sorry, Ian). I brought back a great Puccini bit from last year’s show. And I discovered that the show is about my mom. It’s Mommy’s show. It’s a show about being loud, taking up space, and having volume. I learned to do that from my mom, who gave me permission to be as loud as I wanted (except in the car when the windows were up and she feared for her ears).
I’m still nailing down the finer points. I’m navigating how to tell the story of a woman who very obviously liked herself but was always on a diet. How a woman devoted to Motown raised an opera singer. How growing up with constant, unending permission for me to be myself allowed me to take up this kind of space.
And how to keep doing it now that she’s gone.
11 Lesson on Being Loud (from an American Opera Singer)
4:45 Daily (except Mondays) at Home Bar
Show recommendations!!!!
THE CLOWNS
Mr. Chonkers - the clown that started it all for me
Lil Wenker: BANGTAIL - I’ve done two showcases with Lil and she’s destroyed the room both times
THE CABARET
Accordion Ryan’s Pop Bangers - fellow Fulbright Austria USTA turns a room into a manic dance party
Dildos & Body Parts - You simply haven’t lived until you’ve seen an opera singer strip to Tatiana’s letter aria
THE COMICS
Jack Holmes: Round Man, Square Hole - dear friend from the Vienna scene who had me falling out of my chair this weekend
Olga Koch Comes from Money - a friend took me to see Olga last year, I loved her delivery because it feels like mine, and this year’s show similarly crushes it. I want her to be my friend.
Alexandra Haddow: Third Party - Alex hosted a showcase I did yesterday and I fully fangirled when I realized this is the same Alex who’s co-hosted Sentimental Garbage. The friends I comped in loved her and we’re all seeing this tomorrow.
I’m planning to write short’n’sweet Fringe Reports for Weeks 2-4. Will it happen? WHO KNOWS!
Wonderful stuff! Keep the updates coming. You are the best!!!!