You've got male - an interview (of sorts) with Stewart Francis

Last autumn, I was asked if I would like to do an email interview with comedian Stewart Francis, ahead of his tour. For some reason, I never got round to knocking it into a publishable format for the Newbury Weekly News, so here it is in a semi-publishable format instead.  

Catriona Reeves: How would you persuade people to come and see your live show and what can people expect?

Stewart Francis: I would persuade people to go by telling them that Michael McIntyre was performing. They can expect to see me performing.

CR: You're a native Canadian - what do you miss about your homeland, and what do you like about living in the UK?

SF: I miss having my inhaler. I like the number of asthma clinics the UK has. 

CR: Have you always been a one-liner comedian, or have you tried other types of stand-up?

SF: Yes, no.

CR: Do you have any special tips or tricks for committing your jokes to memory for your live shows?

SF: Not really, I've just always had a great memory. I probably get that from my ah, um...  

CR: You often pop up on the telly - do you enjoy doing the panel shows?

SF: I don't enjoy doing panel shows because the other comedians always interrupt me which I find (SORRY TO INTERRUPT EVERYONE, DARA O BRIAIN HERE, JUST LETTING YOU KNOW THAT TICKETS FOR MY TOUR CRAIC DEALER ARE AVAILABLE AT TICKETMASTER.CO.UK) irritating.

CR: Which are your all-time favourite jokes (yours, or other peoples)?

SF: I'm not a fan of my jokes but one of my all-time favourite's would have to be Tommy Cooper's: " I was cleaning up the attic last week for the wife... filthy dirty, covered in cobwebs...

...But she's good with the kids".

CR: Anything else that you think the readers of the Newbury Weekly News should know about you?

SF: They should know that I look forward to both of them being at the Reading show.

The tour that Stewart was promoting has now long gone, but luckily he's back on the road this autumn with The Lumberjacks - aka himself and fellow Canadians Craig Campbell and Glenn Wool. It doesn't look like he's coming to Reading.

Good Vibes at Ace Space - review by Bill Ainsworth of The PJP Band, Horse Around Home and Harry George Johns

The PJP Band, Horse Around Home and Harry George Johns at Ace Space, Newbury on Saturday, May 18

IT’S a funny old place, Newbury: lots of people love their music around here, but complain that there isn’t much of a live scene. They are quite prepared to go and see a band for free in a bar, where it can cost nearly £4 for a pint, but the idea of actually paying a mere £5 for a ticket puts them off, despite the fact that they’d be in for an evening dedicated to wholesome live music at a great little venue where it’s only £2 a pint. Build it, and they will shrug…

Right, mini rant over; to the folk who stayed away, it was your loss. The people who were there were treated to over two hours of top notch entertainment. First up was Harry George Johns, a lovely guy who, I’m told, plays regularly around the circuit with tonight’s headliners. Sat on a stool with just his acoustic guitar he held the audience in hushed awe with his yearning, achingly beautiful songs, which, by his own admission went from sad, to very sad, to the saddest.

Despite the song’s textures his between-tune banter was quite the opposite; humorous and humble; and as for his voice, well Jeff Buckley, James Morrison and Bon Ivor sprang to mind - yes he was that good. In an ideal world, guys like Johns would be household names and not these here-today, gone-tomorrow “talent” show winners, but, as we know, that isn’t where we’re at.

Mostly local guys Horse Around Home were up next, but not, we’re told, their usual line up. Regulars Julian Tulk (vocals and guitar) and Barry Pollock (bass) were more than ably accompanied by Patrick James Pearson (keyboards), more of whom later, and brothers Terry and Scott Essen (lead guitar and drums respectively). The latter two only had a few rehearsals in the last couple weeks to learn what turned out to be a very complex set of numbers. I like to draw comparisons when reviewing, but cannot bring anyone to mind with these guys I’m afraid. 

The lolloping build of set opener Hold did exactly what it said on the tin, I love a tune builds and builds to an orgasmic climax of controlled noise and this one had the crowd gripped. Other highlights for me were Dust And Dirt, Tulk’s solo effort Shoe Song and the very touching Smiling. Mr Tulk has had some rather good things happening in his personal life of late which he very lovingly touched upon when introducing Smiling; much to the joy of those involved, who I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time, and bringing cheers from those in the crowd who were in the know.

Two things all three acts tonight had in common was epic facial hair and/or cool dress sense - much check and denim etc was on show. Another was an absolutely brilliant vocal range, including in the case of the aforementioned Mr Pearson, who now took centre stage with The PJP Band, his keyboards looking like an early 1970s George Harrison (that’s a major compliment in case you weren’t sure).

By his own admittance, Pearson was feeling a little hoarse (no pun intended) this evening, but if he hadn’t mentioned this, I certainly wouldn’t have noticed. He and his cohorts treated us to a stunning nine-song set, with band members leaving the stage only to return when required, meaning the band ranged from a two to a four piece during the performance. 

Highlights for me were opener Disciplines, which brought Interpol to mind, and singles I Am A Racer and the splendid psyceadelic romp that is Vicious Luck, videos for both of which are available on You Tube. Other acts that came to mind at various points ranged from Lennon, The Flaming Lips and Arcade Fire to the bass heavy groove of The Chilis and the singalong, dancealong good time stomp of The Blues Brothers.

Finally on the PJP front, Patrick impressed me greatly when not only was he able to sing and play his main instrument with gusto, but not content with that, he increased his multi-tasking by playing tambourine with his foot. Good work, sir!

Bill Ainsworth

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on May 30, 2013

Smooth as selkie - review of Lady Maisery at New Greenham Arts

Lady Maisery at New Greenham Arts, Greenham, on Thursday, May 23

 WHAT do you mean you haven’t heard of the bansitar? It’s a musical instrument that combines the sound of a sitar with the tuning and playing technique of a banjo. And do you know what diddling is? It’s a style of singing without words, once common in England, used to create music for dancing without the need for instruments. OK then, how about a bit of clog dancing? You don’t see much of it round these parts, but the tradition continues in the north of England, where it grew up around the factories and workhouses.

Lady Maisery is an all-female trio, Hazel Askew, Hannah James and Rowen Rheingan, who all grew up steeped in the folk tradition and performing from an early age, before coming together to form a harmony group focussing on the vocal traditions of Britain and further afield, with Scandinavian, Celtic and Appalachian songs also getting a look in.

The general cheeriness of Lady Maisery’s performance - and of the often upbeat tunes - contrasts with the themes that pop up regularly in their songs, particularly those on their newly-released second album Mayday, which intentionally scrutinises the human (and often female) struggle for power and equality.

And thus, thought-provoking modern folk songs such as The Crow On The Cradle by Jackson Browne and Palaces Of Gold (inspired by the Aberfan disaster) by Leon Rosselson were performed alongside old songs about honour-based murder, illegitimate births (covered up by Scottish songs of selkies - fabled man-seals - making night time visitations), and the importance of clinging on to that precious “maidenhood”.

Even West Berkshire resident Kate Bush got a look-in, with a particularly lovely interpretation of her song This Women’s Work, a song about childbirth sung from the partner’s viewpoint, which Lady Maisery originally recorded as a charity single to celebrate International Women’s Day. 

Some of the lyrical vibes may have been a bit on the heavy side, but Lady Maisery’s performance certainly was not. The trio were warm and engaging, their harmonies gorgeous, and their between-song chats both enlightening and often mood-lightening. The vocal focus of their performance blended with their other musical abilities, playing the fiddle, banjo, harp, accordion and concertina.

Oh yes - and then there’s the diddling. There’s something innately cheery about diddling. You can’t listen to a diddle and not smile, even if it comes straight off the back of a song about death - their sign-off song, Sleep On Beloved, isn’t just about someone having a snooze. But however chilling and stark some of Lady Maisery’s songs may be, it’s nothing that a diddle and a little bit of clogging can’t solve.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on May 30, 2013

Brothers in harmony - review of State of the Union (Boo Hewerdine and Brooks Williams)

State of the Union at Arlington Arts, Newbury, on Saturday, May 2

MOST people (or maybe it’s just me) will have a long-term fondness for one or two musicians/bands who are so deeply ingrained in their psyche that they forget that they’re not as well known to the wider world as they ought to be. For me, one of those musicians is Boo Hewerdine. His work as frontman of Cambridge-formed band The Bible must have had some Radio One play in the late ’80s (for that was all I listened to back then), but they remained mainly a cult band, with their highest charting single having a near-miss with the Top 50.

Probably his best-known composition is Patience of Angels, a hit for singer Eddie Reader in 1994, although I prefer Hewerdine’s warm, mellow version of it, as performed during a two-song solo showcase during State of the Union’s gig at Arlington Arts. The other half of the State of the Union duo, Brooks Williams, got his own moment in the spotlight in the second half, so it was perfectly fair.

Williams is an American-born, Cambridgeshire-based blues/folk guitarist who first teamed up with Hewerdine in 2011, with the aim of recording an album using vintage mics and equipment in five days. In fact, they completed it within two days. Not surprisingly, working at that speed, they have now brought out a second album (speed of recording not confirmed), meaning that they have an impressive number of songs to chose from for their live set.

What the pair have come up with is a blend of English pop sensibilities and raw Americana. Both musically and lyrically, their songs probably nudge the coast of the USA more than that of the UK, but there are still British roots to be found, such as in their cover of the Pet Shop Boys’ most yearning song, Rent, with slide guitar replacing the original’s synth instrumental.

What was surprising is how well Hewerdine and Williams’ voices fit together, blending in a way that would be more usually found arising from sibling harmony rather than the vocals of two men born and raised thousands of miles apart.

One day, I will see Hewerdine perform his two most beautiful songs, Graceland and Honey Be Good, with his band The Bible. But State of the Union were a pleasure to savour, and opened up a whole new avenue of Hewerdine’s work to me; confirming that such a prolific singer-songwriter can never remain rooted solely in a long-ago past when he reached the heady heights of the Top 60.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on May 16, 2013

A Scilly day out

HAVING first visited the Scillies as a teenager, I have always been fondest of the island of St Agnes, with its magical landmarks: The Nag’s Head standing stone, Troytown Maze (created from pebbles, for reasons unknown), and Beady Pool, where the bead cargo of a 17th century shipwreck used to be found in their dozens in the shifting sands. There’s also the beach where generations of locals and visitors have stacked wave-smoothed stones into hundreds of oddly-balanced towers, making it resemble the seaside retreat of Makka Pakka.

Being a Scilly-hardened family - or so we thought - by our third visit, we used the fleet of small boats to take daily trips from the main island, St Mary’s, to the off-islands with as little thought as we would catch a train back home. But there would be one trip to St Agnes which would be unforgettable.

Half of the Scilly passenger boats are 70-year-old wooden launches; the others are more modern. At the time of our holiday, in 2007, only one had an upper deck. It was a sunny day, so naturally we (me, my husband, and son George, then five) plumped for the top deck, settling ourselves on the bench at the back for the best view. It was a little bumpier up there than down below, but we were enjoying the ride, until about halfway between the islands, a freak storm struck, and the gentle swaying of the boat turned to a violent rocking.

Almost immediately a boatman’s head popped up from below. “Stay where you are, and hold on,” he called. The other families, nearer the steps, responded to natural instinct and dived straight down. Sat at the aft, we were furthest away, and clung on tight. But George panicked, and screamed that he couldn’t hold on. I was gripping him, but with him flailing in terror it was hard to feel secure. We decided to make it to the steps.

Lashed with rain, we crouched and crawled along the deck, grabbing at the benches to keep us steady, but still being bumped around like rag dolls. At the steps, hands reached up to grab George, and then I followed, tumbling down in a most ungainly manner, to add to my catalogue of bruises. As passengers and crew checked we were all right, the boatman looked at me. “I told you to hold on,” he said, sagely. Within another minute  or so, the storm had passed, and the sea was calm once more.

So, why is this my favourite holiday memory? Well, clearly I would rather it hadn’t terrified George; but it is still special to me, because it is something we went through as a family. We disembarked at St Agnes, had a fun day in the sunshine, and caught the return boat with no fear of a repeat event. The wonderful boatmen of Scilly steered us safely through the freak storm, and it is a memory that will stay with us after those of sunshine holidays in further-flung locations have long faded.

• Originally written for an Onthebeach.co.uk/ Goodtoknow.co.uk travel writing competition. Again, I lost out to someone who had actually been abroad. Bit of a pattern emerging there. Also noticed that the winner wrote about a "nice" holiday memory. Mine was more "unforgettable" though, which was the theme of the competition. And I was clearly more deserving of the prize holiday by dint of the experience chronicled above.

How I learned to stop Dodgying and love the Olympics

I NEVER knew a festival could get me interested in sport. I only went to the London Live: Hyde Park festival (part of the city’s Olympic celebrations) so that my nine-year-old son could experience - and hopefully learn to love - my favourite band Dodgy playing live. My first attempt to convert him at Portsmouth’s Victorious Vintage festival earlier in the summer had been a quite literal washout. Not even the magnificent backdrop of HMS Victory could tempt him out from behind the hotdog van into the storm to watch Dodgy risk electrocution.

So my continued attempts at Dodgy-conversion brought us to Hyde Park for a free day of big screen sport and “fun” fitness activities. I couldn’t have been less thrilled. But then, unexpectedly, onto the stage, came four actual Olympic medalists - the British Gold and Silver-winning slalom canoeists. Suddenly, I was acting like a teenage Bieber fan. Throwing myself towards these poor men (the nearest I will ever get to an Olympian effort of my own) I just had to touch one of those medals, whatever body part belonging to their owners, or other crowd members, got in the way.

So yes - London Live managed to get me interested in sport, against the odds. And as for my son’s verdict on Dodgy? “They’re alright, I suppose...”

• Written for TNT Magazine Blogs Competition, 2013. I was beaten to first prize by someone who had actually been abroad. Find it in its original posting at: http://blogs.tnttravelshow.com/?p=110

At arm's length - review of Chorus, by Ray Lee

Photograph courtesy of The Corn Exchange, Newbury

Chorus, by Ray Lee, in Newbury Market Place on Friday, April 26 and Saturday, April 27

THE LATEST presentation in The Corn Exchange’s Outdoor Programme sang in the new season with a more simple performance than many of its predecessors, as artist and composer Ray Lee brought his tripod-legged choir to the Market Place for six performances in dusk and night over the weekend.

As each performance began, speakers on rotating arms on top of the high tripods began to rotate, each emitting a pulsing drone at a different pitch, creating a changing and individual composition of sounds for the visitors who moved beneath and among them. The eye was drawn upwards to the rotating red LED lights on the end of each arm; all visually identical but made unique by their own tonal identities.

Unlike most past Outdoor Programme presentations, there were no fireworks, no live performers, and no real explanation for what was going on. And yet, it was mesmerising: the half-hour performance felt like five minutes, as the soundscape became immersive; so loud and all-pervading, yet surprisingly relaxing and meditative. Although moving between the structures created the most variety of sound, even standing still created its own orchestra, picking out the tones and pulses, each taking turns to come to the forefront of the overall wash of sound.

Chorus didn’t end with a climax, but with an eventual coming-together of the drones in a chord both atonal and harmonic, before each rotating arm began to slow, stop and fall silent at different times, and the Market Place fell back into stillness. It may not have been the most jaw-dropping of the Outdoor Programme’s series of performances, but it was provoking, transfixing, stunning in its starkness - and most certainly memorable.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, May 2, 2013

The least-worst he could be - review of Robin Ince

Robin Ince: The Importance of Being Interested, at Arlington Arts, Newbury, on Saturday, April 27, 2013

PROFESSOR Brian Cox can be credited for many things that are good in the world, but his one achievement for which I give him eternal thanks is his transformation through enlightenment of Robin Ince from workaday observational comedian into comedyland’s biggest science enthusiast. It was Ince’s meeting and subsequent friendship with Cox that called time on his pointing out of the small things and to begin looking at the bigger picture with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of an informed layperson.

Of course, as he pointed out, the problem with looking at universal truths is that they highlight the ultimate futility of individual existence (Ince is a self-defined “liberal atheist”); however, fortunately there is plenty of satisfaction to be gained on our pointless plod through life from the jaw-dropping oddities of nature (“not the best possible design they could be, but the least-worst”) to two of the most excellent and inquisitive minds that mankind has produced: Charles Darwin and Richard Feynman.

Even Darwin’s very being, argues Ince, is proof against the concept of intelligent design - his bulbous nose nearly lost him his berth on The Beagle, as the captain was concerned that it suggested a weak constitution. Eventually he relented, and according to Darwin was “afterwards well-satisfied that my nose had spoken falsely”.

But it was not Darwin’s nose but his fascination with the humblest details of nature that has made his legacy so important. Thinking about it, Darwin would have been an excellent observational comedian: “Have you ever noticed that the earthworm eat their own bodyweight in soil every day?”.

Ince is so very interested in the world that the original running time of the show was four hours (the thought of most ultra-long shows, often performed by rock legends or Ken Dodd, fill me with horror, but I genuinely think that I could cope with four hours of Ince, if regular toilet breaks were allowed). Rather delightfully, although he’s pared it down considerably, he’s kept the discarded slides in his Powerpoint presentation, resulting in tantalising glimpses of other themes on which he would be able to propound at length given the opportunity.

Talking of which, the enormous projection screen at Arlington played its part wonderfully in illustrating Ince’s thoughts; although it will be a long time before I can get the image of a naked Richard Dawkins (represented in a caricature based on The Creation of Adam) out of my mind. But remember: the human male may not be the best possible design, but  it is the least-worst. 

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, May 9, 2013

Perfectly Jolly People - interview with Julian Tulk

LOCAL singer-songwriter JULIAN TULK is setting off an around-the-world trip in the summer - but before he goes, his gift to Newbury is a night of music at Ace Space. “People in Newbury are used to seeing live music for free down the pub”, he tells CATRIONA REEVES, “but they’ll be getting three bands for not much more than the price of a pint”.

HEADLINING the gig organised by Tulk at Ace Space on Saturday, May 18 will be The PJP [aka Patrick James Pearson] Band (pictured above), supported by Tulk’s new outfit, Horse Around Home, and PJP’s tour opener Harry George Johns.

Tulk first came across PJP frontman Pearson when working on his last album at the Devon studio run by producer - and former Newbury musician - Pete Miles, who suggested that he get Pearson involved in the recording. “PJP are based in Plymouth,” explains Tulk. “There’s a really thriving music scene down there; folk and punk, underground stuff, and Pat’s one of the best acts to come out of it.

“He’s an exceptional songwriter, keyboard player and guitarist. Many of his lyrics have an edgy protest edge to them, and it’s really emotional stuff. He’s a great performer, and he’s got a really energetic band around him. When you watch them live, you can’t help but pay attention.”

Tulk’s own new outfit, Horse Around Home, reflects where he feels he is currently at in his life; newly married with a young son, resulting in “quite a lot of family-orientated stuff; it still sounds like me though; good, straight-up folk-rock-pop songs. I sing it like I mean it.”

He may now be a family man, but Tulk isn’t exactly settling down; later this summer he’s due to set off travelling with his wife and son for a year or so, meaning that the Ace Space gig may be the last opportunity to see him play live for quite a while. 

Tulk has a word for those who may be procrastinating about buying tickets for the gig in advance: “People in Newbury are reluctant to commit to spending money because they’re used to being able to pop down the pub and see live music for free. But Ace Space is a great venue, and there’s nothing like going to a real gig, where it’s all about the music and everyone is there to see the bands.”

Tickets for The PJP Band, supported by Horse Around Home and Harry George Johns are £5 in advance from Hogan Music, Ace Space on  07905 590214 or from Julian himself. If your bulging social calendar means that you’re still reticent to commit by buying an advanced ticket, entry costs £6 on the night. Doors open at 7pm - be there early to see all three acts.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, May 2, 2013

Lighting up the gloom - review of James Grant (Love and Money)

James Grant at The Forge, The Anvil, Basingstoke, on Friday, April 5

NEVER meet your teen crushes goes the rule - but luckily it all works out just fine when it turns out that they’ve still got a magnificent head of hair, a gorgeous Glaswegian accent, cheekbones that could cut diamonds, and a voice like velvet. Tennent’s Velvet Ale, maybe....? Nah - it would have to be a smooth malt whisky.

Back in the late ’80s, James Grant was the singer with Love and Money, a band of the Scottish blue-eyed soul genre (think Wet Wet Wet, Deacon Blue, Hue & Cry, Del Amitri - whose singer Justin Currie recently performed at Arlington Arts) who achieved reasonable success; mainly in their homeland, but also, unexpectedly, in the Upper V common room at St Gabriel’s School, Newbury. 

Deprived of much real male contact (well, some of us were, anyway), the band’s songs of love and loss moulded our expectations of adult life and relationships. They were probably a pretty good preparation for the world beyond the common room in fact, as Grant’s “miserablist” style of songwriting offers a realistically pessimistic view on life.

Nearly 25 years on, and Grant has continued writing and performing, both with Love and Money, who reformed in 2011, and as a solo act. While he has released five solo albums, he is not reluctant to play the songs from the past that are best known, and so we had the pleasure of hearing the gorgeous Strange Kind Of Love, from the 1988 album of the same name. Performed by Grant and his guitar, it was maybe even more lovely without the slightly bombastic (over?) production of the original version which set it firmly in an era long gone.

Grant doesn’t do upbeat, either musically or lyrically, and the old themes of love and loss are still foremost; alongside death, most poignantly on My Father’s Coat from his 2009 solo album Strange Flowers -  but the tunes are beautiful, the lyrics touching, and the alternately romantic and melancholy vibes showcase his liquid voice to perfection. An intimate gig in The Anvil’s tiny Forge studio also allowed Grant to display his dark humour as he told tongue-in-cheek tales of his young manhood as a semi-rockstar (he once smashed a typewriter) and the death of his family budgie.

I left the gig vowing to finally replace my cassette tape copy of Strange Kind Of Love, and delighted that at least one of my major teenage crushes had revealed itself to be well founded - and like the best whiskies, ageing very well indeed.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, April 11, 2013

Wild thing - review of Michaela Strachan's Really Wild Adventures

Michaela Strachan’s Really Wild Adventures, at The Haymarket, Basingstoke, on Saturday, April 6

THE DADS of Hampshire must be big fans of poetry, because I observed far more of them in the audience than turn out for most family shows. And they were so devoted to their children as well; queuing patiently to allow them to meet the lovely Michaela Strachan after the show. A truly heartwarming sight.

I am being a bit cheeky there, of course - Strachan has a place in the hearts of many (both men and women) who grew up in the 80s when she was a presenter on Children’s BBC’s Really Wild Show, as well as the cult late night ITV clubbing show The Hitman And Her. I must admit that I was pretty excited to meet Strachan myself - she was central in developing my fondness for earrings at a tender age; as I told her baffled young niece when I discovered that I was sat next to her during the show.

...Really Wild Adventures is based on Strachan’s book of poems of the same name, which in turn are inspired by her own experiences encountering wildlife in all parts of the world for various nature programmes - she will soon be back on our screens presenting BBC’s Springwatch. This was no gentle poetry corner-style performance though; Strachan’s stage show was full of fun, music, audience participation and even acrobatics, as she hung upside down in gravity boots to recite her poem about Wrapped Up Bats.

Strachan’s poems are not just full of facts, but also reflect the emotions drawn from encounters that have genuinely touched her, such as meeting orphaned elephants, rhinos and orangutans; and the thrills of removing a tooth from a polar bear and getting really close to her beloved African penguins on the coast of South Africa, where she now lives.

Her enthusiasm for the natural world was displayed with affection and joy, and although the show was aimed at ages three to 10 (and, I would suggest, more appealing to the younger end of that span), the parents were sparked by her enthusiasm as well - although, oddly, not enough for many of the dads present to volunteer to come on stage to imitate animal noises or play the part of a spitting cobra or an anesthetised polar bear. Luckily, Strachan’s mum was present, and proved herself to be as good a sport as her daughter, who bounced around with as much life-affirming enthusiasm as she did on the telly back when we were young.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, April 11, 2013

Half the Benn he used to be - review of Mitch Benn

Mitch Benn at New Greenham Arts, on Friday, April 5

MUSICAL comedian Mitch Benn is half the man he used to be. Well, very nearly - he lost 10 stone (from a peak of 25st) on an intense diet in 2011, and has kept most of it off. And so, his current tour, Reduced Circumstances, based on his Edinburgh show of the same name, is inspired by his fight to overcome that least rock & roll of addictions - food.

The tour’s name also refers to it being Benn’s first solo tour, without his usual live backing duo The Distractions, and involves a little more conversation and less singing than his past performances. Armed just with a teeny tiny guitar and an iPhone looper app, Benn partly moved away from his usual social commentary to delve deep into his psyche and explore why he had an urge to overeat, although he concluded that it was not down to a traumatic childhood or the fault of his parents “which was a relief to them when they came to see the show”.

Benn didn’t spend the entire show navel gazing - Reduced Circumstances also references the current state of the nation, and his cheeky musings on the subject ranged from the insightful - comparing the banking crisis to his daughter learning to walk - “she was fine until she noticed that nothing was holding her up” - via the educational, in the form of a rap about quantum mechanics; to the delightfully silly, such as his new song Bouncy Druids, inspired by the full-size blow-up Stonehenge featured in the Olympic opening ceremony.

As a stalwart of BBC Radio 4’s The Now Show, Benn composes songs at short notice to reflect the week’s news, but while expressing a little disappointment that the show is currently off-air, he chose  to keep last week’s biggest event on the down-low, other than a comment on the BBC’s decision not to play the Wizard Of Oz song in full was “making a political statement which playing it would not have been”.

As one of the BBC’s most vocal supporters, as showcased in his epic list-song I’m Proud of the BBC, Benn was clearly frustrated that the corporation had bowed to pressure on this occasion. But what has baffled him most about the world in recent times has been the response of some of his larger fans to his weight loss, who have expressed feelings of betrayal. “I didn’t do it to be smug, I just wanted to see my daughters grow up,” he explained. “It was a case of breaking their (the fans) hearts, or literally breaking mine.” 

Aesthetic improvements may be solely a by-product of the health benefits of Benn’s weight loss, but with his twinkling blue eyes, he is looking damn fine these days, and still has a good pair of lungs on him. Reduced Circumstances may be a departure from the performance norm for Benn, but (along with a forthcoming science fiction novel), it suggests a career longevity beyond a back catalogue of current affairs songs, which owing to their very nature, are bound to have a limited shelf life.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, April 11, 2013

Scary monsters and super creeps - review of The Gruffalo's Child

The Gruffalo’s Child, at The Corn Exchange, Newbury, on Friday, March 22 to Sunday, March 24

LIKE the best fairy tales, a lot of young children’s picture books have a slightly scary slant to them; but enough is left to the imagination, and judicious interpretation of a handy grown up, to take the edge off any fear that they may induce.

It is when these tales are transposed into moving images, be it in cartoons, on stage or live action television and film, where the challenges arise, of how to keep the fun frights in, without giving little people the major heeby jeebies. The 2009 Spike Jonze film of Where The Wild Things Are; I’m not sure how much it frightened the children I saw it with, but the constant sense that young Max could be eaten by the beasts he rules over at any minute put the terrors into me.

And so, Julia Donaldson’s much-loved books, The Gruffalo and The Gruffalo’s Child, set similar challenges. As monsters go, The Gruffalo is rather cuddly, but let’s face facts: he eats anthropomorphic mice. And owls, foxes and snakes. He is not a beast to be toyed with, despite his cutey-pie face.

In its three-hand hour-long production of The Gruffalo’s Child, Tall Stories gets the balance just right. The Gruffalo spends most of the show asleep, and all of it sat down, as he cuddles his daughter and warns her about the Big Bad Mouse (the never-seen Mrs Gruffalo is presumably out gathering normal-sized mice for breakfast). One or two audience members let out a bit of a wail when he first appeared - a large three-dimensional Gruffalo strikes an imposing figure and bound to create a bit of a stir on first meeting - but it all settled down pretty quickly.

Against his dad’s wise advice, the Child ventures into the deep, dark woods to find the fabled Big Bad Mouse, meeting along the way the snaked-hipped (of course) Snake, RAF officer Owl and a spivving Fox,  all of whom are tempted to turn the mini Gruffalo into their favourite dish until the mouse is mentioned and they make a sharp exit.

Zingy songs and fast-paced scenes added plenty of fun to neutralise the bleakness of the snowy, windy woods with its clawing trees lit by a large, heavy moon, and the three performers worked their socks off to make a jolly old time of it for audience members young and old. The book didn’t feel stretched for the sake of dramatic effect, with each of the predatory animals (played by the same actor) being given a strong character to play with and get the audience involved.

This was a production that treated the source material, and children’s intelligence, with full respect, without veering either towards mawkishness or nightmare-inducing horror. I’m going to let you into a secret now - neither me or my own child (not a Gruffalo) are massive fans of Julia Donaldson’s books - but after seeing this show, we will be giving them another go. Although she will now expect me to do all the voices.

• First published in Newbury Weekly News on March 28, 2013

Geek love - review of Matt Parker

Matt Parker: The Number Ninja, at New Greenham Arts, Greenham on Saturday, March 9

IT is the sign of the high level of nerdiness and geekery that my plus-one for mathematician Matt Parker’s first solo stand up comedy/maths show wore a “Klein bottle” hat, knitted from a pattern created by Parker’s mum to his specifications. For those who need a reminder, the Klein bottle is a non-orientable two-dimensional manifold; like a Mobius strip without surface boundaries. And it makes a surprisingly wearable hat.

Parker is a former maths teacher and current academic who led the way with the whole science + laughter = massive fun formula when he combined his day job with his evening semi-pro career in stand-up comedy. Although his live shows, and appearances on Radio 4’s Infinite Monkey Cage do appeal to self-styled nerds whose brains are very nearly too enormous to be housed by a Klein bottle hat, his clear and enthusiastic insights into the weirder side of maths are accessible to nearly all.

The show was a gathering of maths with the wow-factor, such as the amazing and unexpected shapes created by cutting Mobius strips in half, how the heptagrin is the perfect shape for a pizza slice (it also makes a fab skirt),  the non-transitive Grime dice, which will always beat (or lose) to each other, and hefty use of  self-referential meta-ness.

He also shone a light on the concept of coincidence, proving how there is nothing that coincidental about a couple discovering that they were unintentionally captured in the same photograph in a random location as children (although it is still pretty spooky - and I know a married couple it happened to); and how the triangulation of leylines between Stone Age monuments works as well with those ancient temples of consumerism known as “Woolworths”.

The only part of the show where I completely lost my way was during Parker’s explanation of the application of the largest number that has every been put to applied use in human history. Parker used the X Factor as a way of explaining it, but it was still too enormous a concept for me to grasp, with Parker speeding up with his extrapolation as the number got larger and larger; stopping, thankfully, just before my head actually exploded. 

During the interval I heard a group of audience members commenting that it wasn’t “so much comedy as [Parker] pointing out things”. When I put that to him after the show, Parker retorted “well, that’s what Michael McIntyre does...” I think out of the two, if I’m going to have stuff pointed out to me, I’d prefer it to have meaning. But don’t just take my word for it. Carry out your own research, and review the evidence. If we all welcome a little bit more maths into our lives, things can only get meta...

• First published in Newbury Weekly News on March 14, 2013

Back in town - review of Mark Steel

Mark Steel’s In Town, at Arlington Arts, Snelsmore, on Thursday, March 7

I REALISE that I’ve unintentionally broken my “no reviewing the same act within two years” in covering Mark Steel’s In Town show again (although technically I’m just OK, as he last visited Newbury on February 2011), but he’s such good fun that I couldn’t resist a return trip.

Anyway, although the basic premise is the same - Steel does a bit of reading up on the more quirky history of an area before pitching up in a town and sharing his findings - two further years of touring with ...In Town (as well as three Radio 4 series based on it, with a fourth on the way) have provided lots more glorious anecdotes about his favourite findings.

And so, we we were treated to his thoughts on Basingstoke (“I walked out of the station and into the shopping mall to try and find the town centre... and came out of the other side”), an insight into the life of the long suffering real-life residents of Miss Hoolie’s cottage in Tobermory (aka Balamory in the CBeebies series), and an audience member in Skipton, Yorkshire, describing nearby Keighley as “ sink of evil”.

Steel appears to have a genuine affection for Newbury and its surrounding countryside (particularly the swans), and while none of his discovered facts about the town were revelatory - and indeed I fear that we as the audience may have mislead him into believing that we have an innate rivalry with Wantage, when of course everyone knows our natural foes are Basingstoke - they were told with a fondness that suggests that he may not know a lot about us, but he can see beyond the generic image of Newbury as Vodatown.

From the Walsall hippo (an underwhelming but much-loved town centre statue) to the tall tales of the fishermen of Penzance, Steel wants people to celebrate the quirks of their hometown, whether they are there by birth or circumstances. As most high streets become identical (“the H&M, the Woolworths that’s now a pound shop, the closing-down HMV”), he urged us to look round the corners - quite literally in the case of Newbury, where a turn into Marsh Lane reveals the magnificent Tudor facade of Jack of Newbury’s house, and a trip down to the canal just steps from Northbrook Street takes you into the territory of Steel’s beloved swans.

In the words of a spoof radio tourist advert sent to Steel and played at the start of the second half, where else can you sunbathe in the park and watch the cars passing on the main road just yards away? Newbury - let’s all learn to love it. It’s what Steel would want.

• First published in Newbury Weekly News on March 14, 2013

Straight outta Cowley - review of Stornoway

Stornoway at New Greenham Arts, Greenham on Monday, February 18

NOT actually from the Isle of Lewis as the name suggests but in fact formed in Oxford (they clearly considered it a more atmospheric name than “Cowley”; Stornoway are on the more interesting end of the spectrum of the new folk rock sound so often drowned out by the likes of the ubiquitous Mumford &  Sons. For a start, they have a saw-on-woodblock combo as a percussion instrument, and a large metal cylinder that gets bashed to oblivion. And - possibly most pleasingly - a lot less banjo.

As the first band to be allowed a standing gig at New Greenham Arts, Stornoway conquered the Monday night blues to attract a sell-out crowd, the largest probably seen on the former USAF air base since the Prodigy played in one of the old aircraft hangers in the mid-90s.

They may not have visited their remote namesake town until 2010, but Stornoway’s sound is certainly evocative of the windswept Outer Hebrides: lush layers of music sweep and soar before being stripped back to a soundscape of near-bleakness for acoustic moments and even acapella singing. There are two sets of brothers in the band, and the phenomenon of sibling harmony that arises from a shared vocal timbre is a string to Stornoway’s bow.

A slight naive tilt to some of the lyrics of songwriter and frontman Brian Briggs grated a little with the overall maturity of Stornoway’s music. For the otherwise gorgeous Farewell Appalachia!  Briggs appears to have imbibed a thesaurus of countryside terms: Through the scree at the foot of the bluff/  And I drank from the brook/ And I slept in the lee of the wood. And the line in their UK number four chart hit, Zorbing, “I feel like I just started uni” just makes me feel a bit old.

Aside from traumatising some audience members (ie me) with the realisation that at least some of these immensely talented “songsmiths, scholars, scientists and men of the earth” are young enough to be my offspring, Stornoway attracted a wonderfully wide spread of ages to NGA, and the ability of this band and their ilk to induct a new generation into the folk genre deserves a generous doff of the cap.

And anyway - any band that can produce a song as lovely as The Coldharbour Road can be forgiven a few duff lyrics along the way.

• First published in the Newbury Weekly News on Thursday, March 5, 2013