Jack (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

 

A solo performance from Laurence Boothman as the unnamed character who is processing the stages of grief.

He receives a puppy from his partner for Xmas, despite never having expressed the slightest interest in dogs. Would like to say no, but... it's cute. They compromise on Jack as a name and the puppy takes over their lives.

But one day Jack returns in the arms of, not his purchaser, but a policeman. The man he loves has died in a road accident, now he's alone with Jack. And all that pain. Boothman's character copes badly. At first. But can he come through it all, and what role does the initially unwelcome Jack play?

This is a moving study of how we deal with grief, not as something predictable, but as individual human beings who all react differently. Nobody knows your grief, and helpful suggestions aren't always helpful. Having to endure a bit of old fashioned homophobia along the way is only going to make things worse. But there is a way through, sometimes in a surprising direction.

Liam Moffat's script is often darkly hilarious, but always humane, and draws the tears at the end. Imaginative direction, within the confines of a flashy, but simple, set drives things along. But is Boothman's performance that is most impressive, from manic to quietly contemplative, from despair to joy. He does the voices of the people he has to deal with (including a memorable turn as the puppy), giving us a range of characters. It's raw and emotional and very powerful.

It's astonishing that fifty minutes can convey so much, but Jack does it brilliantly.

Cahalen Morrison, Traverse

 Two solo Americans for this show, both Scottish domiciled.

Frist up was Edinburgh resident, and Arizona native, Cera Impala. Accompanying herself on guitar and ukulele she sang her own compositions about the troubles of life and the world. Her soft breathy voice is very pleasant, but made the announcements, and lyrics, hard to grasp at times. Add in the slowish tempo of all the numbers and, for all their worthiness, this got a bit boring. Some out of tune guitar work didn't help. Disappointing, as I know she can be better.

Cahalen Morrison, all the way from New Mexico, but now living in 'that place' (!) at the other side of the M8, was a clear step up in quality musically. An excellent player of guitar, banjo and fiddle. The former pair used as song accompaniment, and ornamentation, the latter to deliver a couple of tunes, and he also did some a capella singing.

His voice is haunting, with excellent variation in pitch and tone, and the songs were varied in subject and melody. But the pace was, for the most part, as slow as the first half of the gig, and I wasn't sorry when it all came to an end.

I should add that my rather negative views may have been influenced by a heavy cold and lack of sleep, which made it hard to feel positive or engaged!

All of Us Strangers

 Adam (Andrew Scott) is a lonely screen writer who works from home in his flat, which is in a high rise block with seemingly no other occupants. He is trying to write something based on his own childhood, and goes through a box of old photos which trigger mixed memories. But then he meets Harry (Paul Mescal), who seems to be the only other resident of the block, and they end up having a passionate love affair.

But Adam is too troubled by the ghosts of his past, which his writing efforts have stirred into life. What follows is a portrait of a disturbed man held in the grip of unresolved grief and love. While the plot is often confusing, and the red herrings swim in shoals, that's an accurate reflection of Adam's state of mind, which increasingly leads him down paths that seem destined to lead to crisis.

It's a powerful evocation of the power of grief to determine our entire life if we allow it to, and the need to share if we are to deal with those issues. The idealised dialogues we allow ourselves to build internally have the ability to take over from reality. In Adam's case the two become increasingly one, and it will take something drastic to bring him out of it.

The performances are strong, and intense, with all four actors (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell have the only other speaking parts) delivering excellent performances. But the film revolves around Scott's troubled Adam, and his portrayal of a man in turmoil, using the past to try and understand himself, is masterful.

This is a movie, and character, that leaves you with questions and stays in the mind for a long while after viewing. Not to be missed.

Transatlantic Sessions, Usher Hall

 A joyous and sophisticated melange of an evening. With a total of sixteen talented musicians and singers on stage (I won't name them all...) and backgrounds in Scottish and Irish traditional music, and American Country and Bluegrass, how could it not be?

Of course there is some trepidation in going to a show which comes out of TV origins, but the overall format with some tweaking, transfers well. Helped out by plenty of laughs in the introductions and band interactions. Phil Cunningham is never one to be short of a funny story.

Fronted by American dobro maestro, Jerry Douglas, with fellow TA-founder Aly Bain from Shetland, the band played tune sets that mixed up the various styles of playing, with changes in tempo and mood. The singers all had a set in each half - Joshua Burnside from Ireland, Gaelic songstress Kim Carnie from Scotland, and country singers Lindsay Lou and Carlene Carter from the US. With Carter, daughter of legend June, showing her star quality and charisma (and channelling a bit of Johnny Cash, her stepfather). There was also a song from the band's guitarist John Doyle. And, an undoubted highlight, a solo from Appalachian bass player Daniel Kimbro. His chosen subject Michael Collins, the Apollo 11 crew member who didn't get to walk on the moon. Or, as Kimbro put it, the bassist of the astronauts.

But the biggest spontaneous cheer of the night went to Burnside for his lyric - "March up the Shanklill, March up the Falls, Doesn't matter where you're from, The tories fucked us all". Folkies are mostly decent people!

The encore was for the core band only, a set of tunes that once again demonstrated how that mix of styles and cultures can add delight and surprise to even the most familiar of tunes. Long may they continue to bring such imagination and joy to people.

Lau, St Giles

 

On as part of Edinburgh's First Footin' series for New Years Day, which saw a variety of city centre locations turned into venues for free music, this was the offering in St Giles' Cathedral, a spectacular venue with an equally special band taking part. They performed four forty five minute sets across the afternoon, to a fresh audience each time.

After a short reading from a Len Pennie poem, the compere brought on Kathryn Joseph, who played keyboard and sang a couple of songs. While clearly talented I find much of Joseph's material too dreary and repetitive to be enjoyable, with the lack of clarity to her voice leaving the listener with few clues as to what the song is about.

For her final song she was joined by the trio Lau, and that provided a distinct step up, partly from the song itself having a bit more life to it than the others, mostly due to the quality of the arrangement and backing vocals.

Joseph moved off and we were left with the trio Lau, and short set that took them back to their roots. Simply acoustic, only Martin's accordion, Aidan's fiddle and Kris' guitar and vocal. It was refreshing to see them they way they performed these fifteen years and more ago. As tight as ever, but still freely improvising, this was grin inducing, body moving stuff, and a perfect lift for New Year.

Dean Owens and the Sinners, Traverse

 

The now-traditional pre-Xmas home gig for Dean, this time with his four piece band, the Sinners, was as rowdy as ever, and even more emotional.  This was the first time without his parents in attendance (his mother was ill), so it was a tough one for the main man

The band featured long time associate Craig Ross on guitar, Adam McMillan on upright bass, and Philip Cardwell and Charles Dearness on trumpet.  The latter formed an important element of the night, because for the first half Dean mostly offered up material from his most recetn trio of albums, all with a strong Tex-Mex feel and brass backing.  That allowed for some very different arrangements on some older material, and that freshness made the familiar feel new.

Owens took an early opportunity to get the audience involved, not just singing along, but humming and whistling too.  Cue much laughter...

The second half opened with Dean playing solo, determined to get through his own tribute to his father, The Man from Leith.  With his voice starting to crack up from the emotion this time it was the crowd's turn to help him out, as we knew the words as well as he did.  It was one of those moments only live music can provide.  Ross helped him out with his next number, and then the full band returned to provide a rockeir feel to procreedings.  The crowd involvement level remained high, and the final number, appropriately The Last Song, was belted out by every voice in the bar, even those new to Dean's work.  

One final turn of the screw.  Deam solo to sing his mother's favourite song, After the Rain.  Another notch on the emtions, another test for the audience vocal chords.  Lovely stuff.

In all this I've said nothing much about the musicianship, which was solid, Ross as impressive a guitarist as ever. And Dean's vocals, some understandable cracking aside, is still as distinctive and plaintive as ever.

But this wasn't a night that was just about the music.  The Owens pre-Xmas gig is always a special one.  More so both for the reasons above, and for this being the final Travertse gig to be put on by Soundhouse, who have done so much for live music in this city.  All the best to Douglas and Jane-Anne in the future.

England and Son, Traverse

Something a bit different, at least in terms of format. For the section before the interval Mark Thomas emerged without fanfare, sat in a chair centre stage, and chatted to the audience, as himself. He explained how he first met the writer (Ed Edwards) of the play we were about to see, and the origins of the play itself. An important element of their working relationship is that both work with addicts at a centre in Manchester, teaching them drama and giving them the means to express themselves in a more literate fashion than they might have managed previously. Thomas being Thomas, this comes complete with impressions of the people he worked with, and was hilarious. But also gave a flavour of what it's like to be a recovering addict.

The play itself follows, where Thomas plays the 'son' of the title, as well as myriad other characters as they crop up. It's an often moving portrayal of an abusive childhood, and how the lack of self-worth that engenders that can feed into addiction and repetition of the cycle. The action is set during the eighties, where the actions of the Thatcher regime resulted in mass unemployment, the growth of the black economy, and an exponential increase in drugs use.

That Thomas' character is surnamed England, in the eponymous country that was in such great social decline, seems a heavy handed way of hammering home the metaphor we're presented with. But the script largely avoids a swerve into didacticism, and generates sympathy for 'son', very much the victim. It helps greatly that Thomas is the performer, with his trademark high energy, motormouthing style, his ability to improvise interactions with the audience, and deliver laugh upon laugh, yet still wring the pathos from the character's sodden lifestyle.

Hugely entertaining, and makes it's point well. Definitely worth seein