The Decline and Fall of Ed's Festival - Part !

I just eradicated humanity with a plague called "Mr". It gave me a huge sense of achievement. I wanted to call it "Mr Death" but the game on my phone is a bit buggy. I have avoided mostly wanting genocide by mostly avoiding the festival drinking pits. 

Take that humanity!

The exception was my second night here. I met up with someone who is working at one of the venues. She was having drinks with the rest of the staff. Her boss was 22. They mostly all went to university together and all spent their time showing Instagram pictures to each other. A typical conversation was: 

21 year old girl

"This guy was 31. And I was like err...to put it in perspective? I'm 21?"

22 year old girl

"Yeah, but you're not like the stereotypical 21 year old?"

My scowl

"Yes you are."

I was already tired and apparently didn't conceal my feelings particularly well. At one point I went off for a walk. My friend asked me where I'd got to and I told her that I was standing by a tree. She came and met me then we left. We then went to meet her more "cultured" friends, i.e. 24 year old critics at a place called Summerhall, which is where "the cool kids hang out." Festival translation: Arty nerds. Most of whom are still at universities doing masters degrees in advanced job avoidance. Bit sneery, eh? Not to worry. They will all eclipse me.

I'm not sure this was a good idea. They all seemed extremely tired and unimpressed with all the shows they'd seen. The magazines make them go and see 5 shows a day. It's little wonder the reviews are so arsey.

Conversation samples:

Critic:

I saw 5 shows today earlier. They were all shit.

Performer:
Oh hi! You saw my show earlier! What did you think?

Critic:
It was great!

---------------

Critic:

They made me go straight to a show after a 6 hour train ride. I was sooo tired.

Me:

Wow! I wouldn't want to have been that performer. "The buffet service at the venue was non-existent! 1 star."

Critic:

...

I tried not to make too many jokes about critics. It's just so hard. It's my right to reply. That's what's frustrating about being written about. There's no right to reply. If you do, people think you're insane and bitter. My friend assured me that these were very progressive, supportive critics who want to change the system and abolish star ratings. Sure they do. Right up to the time when they leave university and get offered a salary. "Then...you know...I just feel lucky to have the job, because other people would love to be in my position. Actually, I'm bloody good at it, and what's wrong with giving out stars? People respect my opinion! They'd be bloody lucky to be reviewed by me!"

This isn't an exercise in bad-mouthing critics. I just think that critics need to be experts in their fields - and the people that the Edinburgh festival publications hire are not. They need to know how to fix a show, not how to badmouth it. Anyone can say why they didn't enjoy something. How many can say how they would have enjoyed it more? Incidentally, after my Roman show yesterday, a guy approached me and said. "I really liked the show, but could I give you some advice?...Don't take so many sips of water. It really upsets the momentum." Bloody good advice.

The best use of quotes!

My Roman show has been okay so far. The first one wasn't great. I was very tired. The second one went a lot better because I was well rested. No reviewer would ever take that into account, but it is such an important factor. The difference between me doing a good show and not can often be a pair of ear plugs and a black t-shirt draped over my head to keep the light out. Again, if I were a better performer it wouldn't phase me so much, but saying the right thing in the right tone in the right way takes a brain that is operating at its best, and when it doesn't, I don't.

My first performance of Better Off Ed couldn't have begun worse. I went to the venue and realised that the room they gave me was a landing above the main bar. I went up to somebody working there and said "Where's the venue?" and he said "You're looking at it." By 7.45 there were 2 Swiss people sat down, trying to think up ways to leave. By 7.50 3 girls came up and said "We're just ordering some food. We'll come back up." Some other people came up and sat down and said "Is this the improvised musical?" and I said "No...but I could improvise one, I guess" and they walked off. I watched the girls order their food at the bar and muttered out loud "Just pick a burger for God's sake. No...don't get onion rings too." The Swiss couple were looking in their magazine for other shows they could go to.

Finally the girls came up and we started at 8pm. I had 45 minutes to do the show and, somehow, after some reluctance, it worked. It was fun. They were 5 very nice people and we had a nice time. At the beginning, their faces were sceptical. By the end, they were beaming and thanking me and putting money in the bucket. And that's what I like about performing. It was a lovely little show. It won't always be. Instead of 3 nice girls, I'll get three heckling men. Instead of a nice Swiss couple, I'll get some very confused, hostile Russians. No offence Russians. Or men. But I realised the show is about. It's no great message. It's not an original thought. It's simply about being in the moment. It's the only way to really live and it's the only way to perform. Other than that, it's out of your control.