Loyalties and Freebies - The Volunteer's Dilemma

So, it is Wednesday. Officially, it is Day 6 of this year's Norfolk and Norwich Festival, although with volunteers having been involved in show previews and rehearsals, it is already starting to become troublesome remembering everything that I have already done and seen, and where. That's why I write this blog. It's not anybody else's benefit, it's simply my own personal memory bank deposit account.

 Last night's stewarding shift at the Great Yarmouth Hippodrome is still fresh in my mind, and most volunteers have either seen William Galinsky's production of The Tempest, or are looking forward to it. Either way, it is one of the biggest talking points among us, that and voting for our favourite flavour of Kettle Chips, or trying to organise a flashmob visit to the Egg Festival Café at Norwich Arts Centre.

Indeed, it is to Norwich Arts Centre that I am suddenly feeling slightly guilty. During the rest of the year I am one of several Festival volunteers who also help out at the Arts Centre, either on the box office or as ushers. During these two weeks there is almost a tug of loyalties developing as I throw myself whole-heartedly into the N&N, conscious that the regular team at the Arts Centre are working their collective butts off doing extra shifts as the venue hosts a full programme of festival events. Tonight and tomorrow is a chance to ease my conscience a little - I will be front of house for two NAC shows featuring Manchester based writer and performer Chris Thorpe.

There has been a very generous offer made to festival volunteers. An e-mail on Monday night gave details on how we might be able to obtain complementary tickets to certain shows, obviously on condition of last-minute seats remaining unsold. Both of Chris Thorpe's shows had already sold out, but we still manage to squeeze one volunteer into each night when a guest-list pass remains unclaimed. I don't get to see either show (someone has to man the desk!), and I potentially also miss out on the chance to see the man-versus-robotic-arm-ballet, 'Sans Objet' (which, I am told, was absolutely stunning), and the showcase production at The Playhouse, 'Wild Life'. Such is the dilemma that manifests through such tugs of loyalty!

I don't waste my daytime during Wednesday and Thursday, either. I manage to get the grass cut, which always makes me feel better, and make it into the city to check out how the Public Jukebox is faring in its new location outside The Forum, and to witness the progress made by the Dennis Design Centre in Chapelfield Gardens ahead of the weekend's two-day Garden Party.

After Wednesday's Chris Thorpe performance,'Confirmation', a fast-moving examination of Confirmation Bias, that tendency to selectively search for and recall information that reinforces our existing opinions, I confirm my own tendency and desire to imbibe in Adnam's Ghost Ship, and duly head off to the Spiegeltent.

Wednesday night is 'Lucky 7's' night at The Spiegeltent. Each night after the late show the Spiegeltent hosts a club night with a selection of top DJs. Tonight is Pushkin, ably assisted by Robbie Powell in a night that challenges us to test out our own DJ'ing skills. On admission we are invited to randomly draw a 7" vinyl single from the haul purchased by the Spiegeltent at local charity shops. Then, if we are so inclined, we can pop on the headphones and be tutored in the fine art of beat-matching and mixing our own vinyl treasure into the set-list. One of the first to hit the wheels of steel is our very own Head of Operations, the one and only DJ C-Lo.

My own allocated single is a little-known ballad from 80's teenage star Tiffany. It is the follow up to the number one hit 'I Think We'e Alone Now', and is called 'Could've Been'. The portents are all in place for it to be a massive floor-emptier rather than floor-filler. Not surprisingly I do not get the call up onto the stage.

I vow to return the following Wednesday armed with a couple of guaranteed crowd-pleasers. Watch out, Norwich. DJ Dav-iD will be back.

The Tempest in Great Yarmouth - Any Storm in a Port?

The circus is a magical place. Even now, fifty years later, I can still remember attending a show at the Great Yarmouth Hippodrome for my fifth birthday treat. It was a time when live animals still appeared in circuses, television was in black and white, and Victorian and Edwardian artifacts were distinctly unfashionable and simply thrown away or burnt when buildings were modernised and upgraded. If it were not for 1960's pop star Peter Jay who, with his father, bought the Hippodrome in the late 1970's, this building could have been lost for ever. Instead, it stands today as one of only two indoor circuses still operating today. Another, now used as a theatre, is perhaps better known as the London Palladium.

'The Tempest' is one of the earliest Shakespeare plays that I can remember studying at school. We were made to perform read-throughs in English, battling through unfamiliar syntax and vocabulary. Some of us hated having to read out aloud, others seemed to revel in the attention. I remember reading the part of Ferdinand, with Miranda's lines taken by a girl that, at the time, I had an enormous teenage crush on. To this day I can still recall the awkward adolescent eroticism of delivering Shakespeare's words of love to that eleven year old girl, and blushing as the rest of the class started to giggle.

And so, fifty years later the magic has come full circle. I know not what happened to that eleven year old object of my desire, but the Hippodrome is still standing, and this year is hosting a production of 'The Tempest' as part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. I was disappointed to have missed out on the offer made to the festival volunteer team to attend one of the preview performances, and with the Hippodrome using their own team of stewards and ushers during the run it seemed increasingly unlikely that I would get to see the show.

Imagine my delight when an e-mail late last week from the festival volunteer co-ordinators announced that they would, after all, be sending two volunteer stewards over to each performance to assist the in-house team. I offered myself for the Tuesday evening, and my offer was accepted.

The Festival is operating a ticketed bus service that leaves from outside the Theatre Royal in Norwich each evening for those who prefer not to drive to Great Yarmouth, and would otherwise find the return journey difficult by public transport. I am told to report to the bus at 6.00pm.

"He'd like to come and meet us, but he thinks he'd blow our minds" 

 On my way, I can hear the Public Jukebox playing David Bowie's 'Starman'. It has moved from its previous position in Anglia Square, and now stands proudly in the centre of Millenium Plain, outside The Forum. I also have time to say hello to the volunteers in Chapelfield Gardens who have been busy working with members of the Bureau Detours team on the DENNIS Design Center. It is only the first day, but already an impressive structure is rising from a pile of discarded pallets. Work continues until the end of the Garden Party on Sunday 22nd. Go along and get involved with the building of a unique and functional structure for the people of Norwich.

DENNIS - Can you tell what it is yet?

There are two other volunteers on tonight's coach - another, like me, will act as a steward. The second is given a list of passenger names and is tasked as 'coach assistant', responsible for ensuring we leave no-one behind. As tonight's coach is full, and there appears to be some confusion caused by a couple who have turned up 'on-spec' hoping for seats, this turns into a team effort.

With the correct number of passengers on board, we depart, and make good time to Great Yarmouth, arriving outside the Hippodrome soon after 7.00pm. We report to Thomas, the stage manager, for our volunteer briefing. The role is not onerous. We are only required to watch out for any members of one section of the audience heading for the toilets during the actual performance. Because of the seating plan, and the close proximity of the circus ring we need to make sure that anyone returning to their seats times their return so as not to get in the way of the constantly moving performers. And that is it. We get given front row seats, and settle down to enjoy the show. And not one person leaves their seat outside of the twenty minute interval. Result.

So, what of the show, I hear you ask? Well it is everything that you could hope for, and more. Fans of Shakespeare will be engrossed by this version of the tale of shipwreck and magic, of shared wounding and of war and marriage. Those who have never before set foot in the glorious faded beauty of the Hippodrome's interior will be entranced, and those who enjoy circus will be enthralled by the aerial routines performed by members of the Lost in Translation troupe. Director William Galinsky has taken the venue and its history and woven it into the very fabric of the production, in the same way that circus and theatre have always been close partners in the history of public performance. The yellow edging of the circus ring becomes the island, and the drama is acted out either here or on a catwalk that crosses the ring itself. It is no spoiler to let on about the floor of the ring that submerges to be turned into a swimming pool, but the way that it also becomes part of the action as well as providing the setting for some surreal floating props makes for a unique performance. Most of the cast are in the water at some point, requiring some rapid costume changes back of stage.

As for individual performances, Tony Guilfoyle is dignified and controlling as Prospero, Jane Leaney is complicit and chameleon-like as Ariel, switching from a black gown of invisibility to donning a swimsuit for an Esther Williams styled aquatic sequence, and even dressing as a bee during the sprites scene. Her acrobatic avatar shadows her in a neat and stylish performance. Antonio's party arrive like survivors from an episode of Lost, in their linen trousers and blazers, yet their regality is restored by the final act. Colin Hurley and John McCarthy contribute a wonderfully comedic partnership as Stephano and Trinculo, worthy of any music-hall stage, with McCarthy in his rolled up trousers and bowler hat also reminding me at times, of comedian Jimmy Cricket. Freddy Carter and the exotic Pia Laborde Noguez added youthful innocence as those young lovers Ferdinand and Miranda, although Pia's husky voice was occasionally lost in projection. However, the standout star for me was Graeme McKnight as the feral, hooded Caliban - deliciously bitter under Prospero's control until the final events take their course. In his ripped track bottoms he could have wandered into the Hippodrome straight off the back streets of Yarmouth. Deliberately ironic or not, it was assured that it was with his character that our sympathy lay throughout.

This may not be the best performance of The Tempest that you ever see. Don't come to the Hippodrome expecting millions of pounds worth of special effects, lasers and pyrotechnics. The budget simply wasn't there. If you prefer surreal experimentalism and an exotic soundtrack then hire a copy of Peter Greenaway's 'Prospero's Books'.  What William Galinsky has achieved with this production is to make the venue, and the spirit of the circus, the real focus of the show without losing any of the classicism of the play itself. Shakespeare's words, and the actors and acrobats together contrive to provide what this building was originally designed for - the colour, the sounds and the movement that only live entertainment can deliver. I challenge you to spend an evening with Prospero, Ariel and company in that wonderful building and not come out as if emerging from a magic spell.

The coach is waiting for us outside. We count our passengers back on board, and head back to Norwich. Excited chatter on the journey back tells the story. The production is a success.

And, for me, the magic continues. In my volunteer capacity I get a second chance to see the show this Friday.

But now I am wondering whatever happened to my Miranda, that girl from Form 1B?

Tickets for The Tempest can be bought online, or in person through the Hippodrome or Theatre Royal box offices -

http://www.nnfestival.org.uk/

http://www.hippodromecircus.co.uk/

https://secure.theatreroyalnorwich.co.uk/Online/

Truths, Lies, and Terminal 5 - Another Day with the Norfolk and Norwich Festival

It's Monday. Yesterday was a day off from the Festival, as I made a frantic effort to bring all my domestic chores up to date ahead of a busy week. I've already completed two volunteer shifts, attended one lunchtime concert, and visited the Public Jukebox in Anglia Square. Today I have a driving shift, which involves collecting artists from Heathrow Airport, and still hope to get back to Norwich in time to watch a double bill from The Writers Centre as part of their City of Literature programme - Francesca Beard presenting 'A Lie', followed by YouTube sensation Hollie McNish reading excerpts from her book 'Nobody Told Me'.

These long-haul driving shifts for the festival can be a bit of a poisoned challis. On one hand you get to spend several hours catching up and putting the world to right with another volunteer as your co-driver for the day. If you are lucky you are collecting artists keen to learn more about Norwich, and the festival in general, and are happy to chat (Mind you, sometimes they are so tired after a long flight that they simply fall asleep. Or perhaps our conversation is not as riveting as we might imagine). On the other hand, you are sometimes working to a tight schedule - nobody likes to be left hanging around an airport terminal for hours awaiting collection, and certainly do not want to miss their flight through traffic delays and holdups on the return journey.

My shift starts at 8.00am at the First Drive depot in Paddock Street. The six-seater crewvan is prepped and ready to go. After a quick inspection of our driving licences, and a walk around the vehicle counting the scratches and stone-chips, fellow volunteer Alan and I are ready for the off. As expected, the escape routes from Norwich are fairly congested at this time of the morning, and it is a good thirty minutes before we are clear of the Thickthorn roundabout and flicking the gearbox into fifth.

We have brought our own sat-nav, not to rely on for the route, but simply to keep us updated on traffic conditions and provide a constantly updated estimated time of arrival at Heathrow Airport's Terminal 5, where we are to collect artists arriving on BA flights from Geneva and Toulouse. They are part of the Aurélian Bory's Compagnie 111 (Cie111) who are performing Sans Objet at the Theatre Royal, a choreographed show featuring two acrobats and a full-size robotic arm. According to the NNF programme, it "provides a spectacular dance between man and machine". I just hope that we are not expected to fit the robotic arm into the back of our van!

The gods are kind to us, and we arrive at Terminal 5 just after the first flight has landed. Short-term parking at Terminal 5 is expensive (£11 for up to two hours), but there is no alternative. On the plus side, it is adjacent to the terminal and there is a separate extended-height section for vans and mini-buses (We also noticed that a lot of these spaces were occupied by standard-height vehicles. Obviously some drivers have worked out that these are the closest parking spaces to the terminal building - useful tip!)

We find our first artist seated in the Costa coffee shop, and the second flight has now landed. Together we wait at the international arrivals gate. We are soon all on our return journey to Norwich, stopping only the once to re-fuel the vehicle (all have to be returned with the petrol tank replenished to a level equal to that on pick-up), buy some food, and allow an artistic smoke-break.

We deliver our precious human cargo to NNF production assistant Alice outside their accommodation in Pottergate, and hand over the remainder of our cash-float. We have made good time, and are able to return the van to the First Drive depot long before our own vehicles are at risk of being locked in over-night.

It is a shame that committment to other shifts means that I will not be able to see either performance of Sans Objet at the Theatre Royal on May 17th or 18th. It looks amazing. For more information, check out the festival website - http://www.nnfestival.org.uk/festival/early_shows/sans-objet  , or Compagnie 111's pages at http://www.cie111.com/spectacles/sans-objet/

Sans Objet - Photo from NNF

+++

There is time for a quick bite to eat at home before heading back in to the city for tonight's shows at Norwich Arts Centre. First up is Francesca Beard, a Malaysian-born London-based poet whose show A Lie promises to explore the question of whether lying is an art-form, or is actually a basic human need. It is a solo show, during which at one point two members of the audience are called upon to read from scripted dialogues. Other stage props include a can of Diet Coke, a copy of the Daily Mail and a bunch of artificial flowers (do you see what she is doing here?). There is a song composed from lies contributed by previous audiences; there are poems about Francesca's own early memories (have they been distorted by lies or simply by poor recall?); and there are examples of lies and how they are used in relationships, in the media, and in propaganda. It is a thought-provoking hour, laced with both humour and tragedy, but with a fine performance that holds my attention and interest, even during the technical scientific bits. Who imagined that A Lie could deliver so much?

Learn more about Francesca Beard at http://www.francescabeard.com/.

There's a bit of a breather until Hollie McNish's performance starts - time for a pint of Lacon's bitter from the bar, but when we do go back in it is a case of standing room only for this sold-out event. Hollie is introduced onto the stage by Lora Stimson, and we begin with a selection of poems and diary entries read from her book 'Nobody Told Me', all introduced with a candour that characterises the entire show

I'll be honest here. I was never a modern father. My children (now aged 23 and 27) have since left home, and they were born into a home where my late wife did most of the parenting. It was only her death nine years ago that finally opened my eyes to what a fantastic job she had done, and made me realise what a second-rate substitute I really was. I like to think that my respect now for the mothers of today, their pregnancy and the childbirth, is a million miles away from where I, and many other fathers, stood a generation ago.

Hollie is honest, endearing, hilariously funny and yet brutally frank in her exposure of a woman's lot, even today, in describing anecdotally yet so accurately the process of pregnancy and childbirth. This is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth about what it is like to become responsible for creating, nurturing and producing another human being, the candid revelations of worry, pain, fear, and prejudice that face a mother-to-be, and the courage to stand up and expose us men as the hypocrites than we can sometimes be.

This is not feminist theatre - some of us men of us here tonight may be filled with self-loathing and guilt as our past crimes are described in all their humiliating glory, but we are also delighted to be enlightened, educated and entertained, all within the space of a 75 minute show. 'Nobody Told Me' may be the title of Hollie McNish's book, but to her I would honestly say, 'Thank you Hollie, for telling it to me'. She may claim that some of her poetry is poorly written, but what it might lack in literary finesse it makes up for aplenty in language that comes straight from the heart. Her book should be compulsory reading for every father-to-be, and provides a welcome tonic to every mother.

After a short question and answer session we are invited to a book signing in the foyer of Norwich Arts Centre, and told that we will no way be thought of as cheapskates if we simply present a ticket-stub for signing. As I leave, the queue is stretched as far back as the door. And most people are clutching copies of the book.

Hollie McNish - Picture from NNF

'Nobody Told Me' - can be bought through Hollie McNish's website at https://holliepoetry.com/

Thanks to Writers Centre Norwich and Norwich Arts Centre for hosting both shows - 

http://www.writerscentrenorwich.org.uk/

http://norwichartscentre.co.uk/

And thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Festival for another fantastic and fun-filled day - 

http://www.nnfestival.org.uk/

FLAT - An Alternative Dimension in Space? The Norfolk and Norwich Festival's Opening Show of 2016

Rodrigo Pardo is an Argentinian choreographer and dancer based in Brussels whose show 'FLAT' has toured Europe over the last three years, and finally came to Norwich tonight for the first of two performances at The Forum, providing the opening show of this year's Norfolk and Norwich Festival.

I'd already been to one lunchtime concert today, but tonight was my first of this year's official volunteer shifts. We were to present ourselves and report to the Event Manager at 9.00pm for our team briefing before the show commenced at 10.00pm, and I have to say it was certainly a case of layering up under my blue volunteer t-shirt tonight as I set off this evening. The temperature had dipped to about nine degrees, and a slight breeze made that feel decidedly chilly, yet in spite of this a good crowd had gathered on Millenium Plain to watch the show.

The large white square on the front of The Forum's glass atrium wall gave a clue as to what to expect. The shapes and structures on it clearly represented the furnishings of an apartment - a bed, a sink and cooker, and a bathroom, and was secured by cables so as to be rigid, yet not touching the glass of The Forum at any point.

Around fifty deckchairs were arranged at the top of the steps on Millenium Plain, providing seating for those members of the audience organised enough to arrive early, and hardy enough to sit outside in the cold for almost forty minutes before the start of the performance. Our job was to keep the steps clear, and persuade the rest of the audience to stand and watch from the safety of the plain itself, although it has to be said that the best views are actually obtained by watching this far back.

The show starts with a sole acrobat in a harness moving around the 'room', exploring and negotiating the obstacles. As the projections begin to add colour and tone to the room the true perspective is revealed, and it is not long before the brain forgets that we are looking at a vertical structure, and instead starts to trick us into believing that we are actually looking down on the apartment from above.

The soundtrack and the projections begin to challenge the very reality of the surfaces, and the narrator begins to muse on the whole concept of consciousness, dream and fantasy. It is all performed with an elegance and grace that genuinely tricks us into accepting the virtual perspective of the set. The philosophy is firmly rooted in the work of Argentinian author and poet Jorge Louis Borges, but the execution is filled with lovely intimate little touches, like contemplating the number of kilometres of toilet paper used within a lifetime, alongside the bigger issues of life and death, and the mundanity of daily routine. The dream sequences, which concentrate on our deepest fears and phobias, are at times slightly disturbing, but are contrasted with the warmth and domesticity of sharing the apartment, and a life, with a loved one.

It is tempting to try and capture the essence of the performance via a photograph, but a prior announcement has been made not to use any form of camera - the risk of an unwanted flash breaking the performer's concentration is simply not a risk worth taking, and it has to be said that the vast majority of the audience do comply with the request. And it is so much nicer to keep the phone in the pocket, and simply enjoy the show.

Hopefully those that came tonight will have been both impressed and entertained during the 30 minute performance. For those who missed it, there will be one further performance on Saturday evening. I will be back again with my volunteer hat on, and hopefully able to discard a layer or two if the evening is warmer. But, either way, a dramatic and thought-provoking start to this year's festival.

The Norfolk and Norwich Festival continues until May 29th, and the free outdoor entertainment includes the Garden party in Chapelfield Gardens on the weekend of May 21st - 22nd.

http://rodrigopardo.com/

http://www.nnfestival.org.uk/

String Quartets and the Public Jukebox - Day One of my Norfolk and Norwich Festival 2016

Today is the first proper day of this year's Norfolk and Norwich Festival, my third as a member of the 120-strong team of volunteers that stewards its way through sixteen days of events. and my aim is to get and see as many events as I can in between my allocated shifts. Last night was our final briefing at The Forum, a rallying cry from the festival team led by Executive Director Alex Derbyshire, and a chance to pose in our t-shirts for the obligatory press photographs.

This morning I am on my way to Anglia Square to track down Kristof Kintera's 'Public Jukebox', before heading off to the Octagon Chapel for a lunchtime concert, and calling in at the Festival offices to pick up my instructions for Monday's driving shift. Later this evening I will join other volunteers outside the Forum for tonight's free show, 'Flat', from Rodrigo Pardo.

The 'Public Jukebox' has already travelled around some pretty unusual locations before settling in Norwich for NNF fortnight. It has been pictured in parks, public squares, and even in a sand-dune, but this morning it is creating quite a stir wedged up against a short-term loan and cheque cashing shop in Anglia Square. During my brief visit it produces an eclectic playlist that ranges from The Sex Pistols to Wagner's 'Flight of the Valkyries', and can be heard reverberating around the precinct, along with a few other surprises in between. A pair of volunteers are on hand to explain its operation, and to publicise other free events throughout the coming two weeks.

It may only be a short walk from Anglia Square to the Octagon Chapel, but once inside the eight-sided auditorium the hustle and bustle of the shopping precinct seems a million miles away. This lunchtime concert from the Behn Quartet is the first in a series of five featuring students from the Royal Academy of Music. Always a favourite of mine, these are a chance to see and hear the stars of tomorrow playing today. It is the classical equivalent of seeing an up-and-coming rock and roll band play the Norwich Arts Centre. This lunchtime's programme features the string quartet, with works from Haydn and Ravel.

Haydn is undoubtedly The Grand Daddy of the string quartet, with sixty-eight in total to his name. I certainly would not pretend to be familiar with all of them, but am told that the Opus 20 'Sun' quartets, published in 1772, are seen as a milestone in the history of composition, and influenced classical composers for the next two hundred years. The No6 in A major is today's featured piece, which will be followed with Maurice Ravel's one and only string quartet which, despite its 20th century classicism is still firmly rooted in Haydn's form. 

The Haydn is a chance for violinist Kate Oswin, from New Zealand, to impress, working together with fellow violinist Alicia Berendse, viola player Lydia Abell on viola and Ghislaine McMullin on cello. It is a solid performance, with a delightful menuetto in the third movement. The Ravel is an absolute pleasure, and all four players absolutely nail it, especially during the tricky plucked sections in the second movement, and during McMullin's gorgeously bowed passages in the third. I have always loved this piece, and fans of Wes Anderson will have instantly recognised the excerpt from the second movement used in the soundtrack to 'The Royal Tenenbaums'.

It is an inspired programme, illustrating brilliantly the contrast and the similarities between the two examples of the string quartet form. The whole performance takes just short of an hour, but the entire experience is one of pure joy. The Behn Quartet have certainly set the bench mark for the remainder of the students from the Royal Academy when they perform the other four concerts in this series. 

And so it is now off to the festival offices to pick up my instructions for my drive down to Heathrow Airport on Monday collecting three members from Aurélian Bory's Cie11 who are performing 'Sans Objet' at the Theatre Royal next week, and then a bit of 'down-time' before reporting for duty this evening as a steward for the free outdoor show at The Forum.

So far so good. And it is still only Day One.

http://www.behnquartet.com/

http://kristofkintera.com/pages-work/public-jukebox.htm

http://www.nnfestival.org.uk/

Christine and The Queens - Round Houses and Split Pants

I love The Roundhouse. It's like a miniature Royal Albert Hall, dropped like a steampunk flying saucer into the heart of Camden, almost as though Victorian aliens just knew that one hundred years later the area around Chalk Farm would be one of the most culturally exciting neighbourhoods within the capital, and would need a suitably eclectic venue.

The truth, as is often the case, is rather more mundane. The Roundhouse was built in 1847 by the London and North Western Railway, and was known as The Great Circular Engine House. Basically, it was a garage for steam trains, which would enter and leave using its central turntable. Unfortunately, as steam trains got longer, they rapidly outgrew their garage. A bit like today's huge SUV's failing to negotiate the parking spaces in our old NCP multi-storeys. Nowadays it is a 3000 capacity arts venue, having opened as such back in 1964. My first visit was during my first term at college back in 1976 when I made the three-bus journey across London from Chelsea to see US teenage punk band The Runaways.

Then, as now, walking into The Roundhouse elicits an awesome inspiration of breath as you gaze upwards and take in the wonderful cast-iron skeleton of the building, the circular seated gallery, and the huge stage. I am back here tonight, with a standing ticket, to see French musician Héloïse Letissier, better known as Christine and The Queens.

Earlier this year I reviewed the English language version of her debut album for Outline Magazine ( http://www.outlineonline.co.uk/music/albums/christine-and-the-queens---chaleur-humaine ), and from memory awarded it 9/10.  It only lost a mark because I would have preferred it to have also contained the French-language versions of songs like Tilt, perhaps as bonus tracks. The original album, Chaleur Humaine, released almost two years earlier in France, had been a huge hit, then was re-worked with English lyrics for the American market. I was too late to get a ticket for her London show at Koko in March (tickets were re-selling for up to £250 each), so made sure that I bagged one for the Roundhouse gig as soon as the date was announced. Shortly afterwards Christine and The Queens were announced for this year's Latitude Festival, and they have appeared on Later With Jools Holland.

Tonight's London show is another sell-out, even with the larger venue, but the majority of the audience do appear to be speaking French. London has a huge ex-pat community so this is not a complete surprise, but I guess that I secretly hoped that a few more English music fans might have picked up on Christine and The Queens by now.

Support comes from Dutch electro-pop duo Klyne - Nick Klein on vocals and Ferdhous Dehzard on synths, with a back-up drummer. They do pulsating synths and pained vocals reasonably well - the Roundhouse's rich and resonant sound system beefing up even the most delicate of electronic trilling, and tracks like Waiting, Closer and Paralysed are warmly received. They remind of a mid-tempo Metronomy at times, but nothing to get really excited about.

Christine and The Queens take the stage just as the Gallic anticipation is reaching its chattering climax - Héloïse leading out her four male dancers whilst the three-piece band take their positions on the plinths behind - two synth players and a guitarist. There is time to play the entire track list of Chaleur Humaine - sometimes supplemented with video projection contributions from collaborators Perfumed Genius and Tunje Ige (as in Jonathan and No Harm is Done), sometimes with Héloïse silhouetted by a lone spotlight against a darkened stage, but often with some energetic, acrobatic and well-choreographed dance moves. The muscular frames of the four males shadow and extend the drama created by Héloïse's diminutive, suited form. There are elements of Michael Jackson, Prince and even Madonna in the way they use the stage area, but it is the big grin and gurning expressiveness of our French heroine that carves out the performance as a spectacle rather than a tribute.

The partisan crowd constantly shout for her to speak in French to the point where it is easy to forget that you are not actually in Paris. Her English is fluent, although when she tries to use metaphor and nuance between numbers to explain her philosophy on individuality and gender expression it quickly becomes rather clumsy and stilted. The moment when she brings on a bouquet of flowers and holds herself up as a plain stem against the roses of Beyoncé and Rhianna doesn't quite work on a crowd that is just wanting her to throw the blooms into the pit of adoring fans.

There are another couple of things that don't go quite to plane. The synths on one song don't kick in on time at the beginning, causing a re-start, and her suit pants unceremoniously rip in the crotch area during one particularly exertive dance move. Ever the trouper, she simply grabs a piece of black fabric from the stage, wraps it around her waist and continues to the end of the number, microphone held in one hand, black wrap-around secured with the other, but still dancing. An impromptu unrehearsed costume change follows.

For the encore, though, the costume change is intentional, when in a slightly bizarre course of events, our star stilt-walks onto the stage in a spangly glittery suit for the final number, and for the first time in the evening dwarfing her dancers. It is all a bit bizarre, but then that is what Christine and The Queens is all about - a theatrical, emotive, mis-fit embracing individuality openness and honesty. Be whatever you want to be , and do it to the best of your ability, and allow others to do the same.

Now, let's get a few more English fans along to her Latitude appearance in the Summer, and let's give a little bit of that love back.


Christine and The Queens website - http://www.christineandthequeens.com/home/

Christine and The Queens Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/christineandthequeens

Klyne on Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/thisisklyne

Klyne on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/ThisIsKlyne/

Buy 'Chaleur Humaine' from Amazon - https://www.amazon.co.uk/Chaleur-Humaine-Christine-Queens/dp/B00KGLR3DA

Burying St Edmund, Greene Kings, and Rita Coolidge - Just another day out in Suffolk, but a 'Grand Day Out' all the same.

I cannot remember exactly how this day came about, but I suspect it all began with a Rita Coolidge track popping up on shuffle on my i-Pod. As is often the case with an artist that I don't listen to all the time, I do a quick search on Google to see if a) they are still alive, b) still performing, and c) possibly touring and playing close to Norwich anytime soon. Well, Rita Coolidge is still very much alive, and according to her website, is about to undertake a UK tour that takes in The Apex, in Bury St Edmunds.

Tickets were £24, but it is not everyday that I find a seventies American legend performing that close to Norwich (Bury St Edmunds is just over 40 miles, making it about the same distance away as Ipswich). As I hadn't ever been to a show at the recently-opened Apex venue, I went ahead and booked myself a ticket.

As the date approached, I decided to make a day of it - I haven't been to Bury St Edmunds since the year before La Maman died - and this seemed like a good excuse to have a wander around somewhere other than Norwich's Anglia Square. The weather forecast looked good, so I could check out the town, have a rummage around the charity shops for used CDs, and pay my respects to the cathedral and the abbey ruins. I could even book onto a guided tour of the Greene King brewery - something that really requires either taking a designated driver, or leaving several hours to elapse before driving home myself. Yes, this could be quite a grand day out!

Bury St Edmunds
I may have been a bit over-keen, but I set the alarm early, with a view to leaving the house by 9am. I figured that it's about a one hour drive, but it was a Saturday and I wanted to make sure that I arrived in time to grab a long-stay car parking spot. Internet research had shown that the Parkway multi-storey car park near the town centre offered all-day car parking for the very reasonable fee of £3, although I would possibly have to cough up another pound to extend for the evening. I ensured that my phone and camera batteries were fully charged, made a couple of rounds of egg sandwiches, and set off.

The sat-nav interestingly took me right through the centre of Thetford but I arrived soon after 10am as expected. I found the car park without any problem, only to discover that on a Saturday I was only allowed a maximum of four hours - not much good to me. I therefore resorted to 'plan B' and drove out to beyond the limits of the permit-holder zone (found a spot in Westley Road which is almost opposite the University College Suffolk campus), and strolled back into town. Took about ten minutes, max.

After locating The Apex I was able to collect my ticket without any problem - they didn't need a booking reference number, or even any ID. So much more trusting than some other venues. The Apex has now been open for just over five years, and has a light and spacious foyer with a café on the ground floor and a bar upstairs. It forms part of the modern Arc shopping centre, built on the site of the old cattle market, and it's presence here is surprising, seeing as the restaurant and Cineworld complex situated on the other side of Parkway might have been a tempting alternative (à la Cambridge Junction). Instead it is surrounded on three sides by modern shopping units, including a futuristic looking Debenhams that has echoes of a 'Birmingham-Bull Ring-Selfridges' kind of thing going on. Top marks to Bury St Edmunds for providing such an impressive arts venue so close to the heart of the town (the former arts venue at the historic Corn Exchange has since become a bar and restaurant run by Wetherspooon).

It is only a short walk through the town centre to the abbey grounds, but I decide to go to the brewery visitor centre first to sort out a place on one of the day's guided tours. There is still limited availability on the 2.00pm tour, but I decide to bag the final place on the last tour at 3.30pm. I hand over my £12 and they take my name, but I get neither ticket or receipt in exchange. They really are a laid-back and trusting lot in Bury St Edmunds.

It is a beautiful sunny day and dramatic white clouds billow up against a bright blue sky - perfect for wandering around outside and taking some pictures. I am soon reminded how this town came by its name :

Edmund, King of East Anglia, was captured by the Danes in 869AD. When he refused to renounce his Christian faith he was tied to a tree, shot with arrows until he 'bristled like a hedgehog', and finally decapitated. His head was eventually located, being guarded by wolves, and was allowed to be brought back to his body, at which point it miraculously re-fused itself at the neck. The body was later placed within the abbey of Bury St Edmunds, where the shrine became one of England's wealthiest and most famous places of pilgrimage. Indeed, St Edmund became patron saint of England until he was usurped by the dragon-slaying St George almost five hundred years later, in 1350. Even Henry VIII was so in awe of the legend of St Edmund that the abbey was one of the very last of the country's monasteries to be dissolved, the king being almost afraid to alienate the believers in Edmund.

Nowadays, only remain where once the great abbey stood, but in its shadow lies the Anglican Cathedral of St Edmundsbury, which serves the diocese of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich (hence, Bury St Edmunds remains as a town and not a city). Construction of the cathedral started in Norman times, but the central tower was only completed during this century (between the years of 2000 and 2005).

Greene King Brewery

I have been a legal drinker of Greene King ales for forty years now, and I probably had my first taste even earlier than that. My parents were regular and frequent visitors to the Loaves and Fishes in Beccles, specifically for imbibing in the Abbot Ale, and I was known to accompany them on more than one occasion. Lowestoft, at the time, was a barren wasteland for 'real ale' drinkers with Watneys and Whitbread owning the vast majority of pubs. Apart from a couple of Adnams pubs in the town, proper beer was found only by venturing further south towards Southwold, or west towards Bury St Edmunds.

The Greene King brewery has grown massively in the intervening years, and now produces 14 million pints of beer every week. It has grown by acquisition over the years, and now it is not just the range of Greene King ales that are brewed at Bury St Edmunds, but also Ruddles, Old Speckled Hen, Hardy & Hanson, and a trendy range of craft and speciality beers. Purists may claim that such large-scale production has debased the heritage of the original product, but John, our tour guide, explains that the modern technology merely assists the production of such a wide range of ales. Whatever.

The secret, he claims, lies in the modern brewers' ability to blend a larger number of hop varieties with the malt, the grain and the yeast, and also in the ability to 'balance' the water for each brew by adjusting the hardness and the mineral composition. The barley is no longer malted on-site, although it is still grown in East Anglia and processed by Boortmalt just a couple of miles away. Dried hops now arrive in 'pelleted' form, only one single strain of yeast is now used, and assorted natural flavouring agents are blended in to produce the increasing range of seasonal and commemorative ales. However, despite the growing supermarket trade, the vast majority of beer produced at Bury St Edmunds still leaves in casks rather than kegs or bottles, and is therefore a product with a very short shelf-life. If nothing else, you have to admire the logisitics and expertise in producing such huge quantities and getting them into pubs around the country with such tight deadlines.

I have to admit to always having been an Adnams drinker myself, with Woodfordes perhaps being a close second choice, yet I have always enjoyed a pint of Abbot. Perhaps, like many CamRA (Campaign for Real Ale) purists, I am being unreasonable in my suspicions about Greene King's expansionist and acquisition-led reputation. We are, after all, lucky in having no shortage of independent micro-breweries springing up to guarantee a genuinely wide choice of  original ales and beers.

I certainly enjoyed my tour, including the 100+ steps climb up onto the rooftop of the brew house, taking in the views and the delicious aromas along the way, but relished the tastings at the end even more. We are initially given samples of Abbot Ale, Old Speckled Hen, and Green King IPA to sample, but I also manage to quaff eight or nine other brews before finally staggering out into the late afternoon sunshine. One of the most unusual was Purple Reign, not a tribute to the musician Prince, but a fruity brew in celebration of the Queen's ninetieth birthday. No matter what you think of Greene King, if you are a beer drinker you will find this guided tour and its refreshing conclusion a fascinating couple of hours.

And so it is off to The Apex for tonight's concert. Obviously I have to leave my car where it is, but a little tip for anyone attending future evening events at The Apex -  all on-street car parking in Bury St Edmunds town centre appears to be permit holders only, but these restrictions end at 6.00pm from Monday to Saturday. It should not be difficult to find somewhere free to park within easy walking distance of the venue. Alternatively, most of the pay-and-display car parks appear to charge a flat-rate fee of £1 after this time.

Rita Coolidge at The Apex

Rita Coolidge's most successful years were probably during the 1970's, starting with her eponymous debut album in 1971. She started off as a backing singer for US act Delaney & Bonnie, but also sang with everyone from Bob Dylan to Eric Clapton. In 1973 she married Kris Kristofferson, and the pair released several albums together. At a time when glamorous pop stars were still something of a novelty, Coolidge became one of only a handful of female artists to be celebrated in poster form, her long hair and striking features becoming almost as well-known than her music thanks to Athena, and a generation of teenage boys too old for Cilla Black. That was soon to change. Debbie Harry, Kate Bush and even Olivia Newton-John were soon to change the landscape of testosterone-tinged bedroom walls for ever.

I was fifteen at the time, and whilst I knew of Coolidge my own  musical tastes lay more with Top 40 bands like T.Rex and Slade, or prog-rock acts like Led Zeppelin, Emerson lake and Palmer, and Genesis. American folk and country music hardly hit my radar at all. That would come much later.

Meanwhile Coolidge's reputation as a Stateside rock-chick was not harmed in any way by stories of romantic liaisons with the likes of Graham Nash, Stephen Stills and Leon Russell. She was almost the Sheryl Crow of her day, mixing and touring as a female musician in a male-dominated world. Luckily, this UK tour coincides with the release of her autobiography, Delta Lady, published by Harper Collins, in which she promises to reveal all about her turbulent life, and chronicling her rise to fame. Not surprisingly, a notice in the foyer of The Apex informs us that Rita will be signing copies of the book after tonight's performance.

The interior of The Apex is, as you would expect, bright and modern. It has removable seating downstairs for 500, with further seats around the balconies. It is all a bit IKEA in style - lots of polished light wood and aluminium rails, but the seats are surprisingly comfortable, with plenty of leg room. Late-comers can easily squeeze past without the yo-yos up and down before the start and during the interval. It is by no means sold out tonight, which is a bit of a shame as it leaves the auditorium feeling slightly reverberant, with audience chatter echoing off the walls in a slightly hollow manner.

Support comes from a bearded grey gentleman in a flat cap with a guitar, who looks a bit like a retired farmer. It turns out that Ian Brown (no, not that one) comes from Hampshire, and for fourteen years he did indeed milk cows, farm pigs, and grow corn. He then turned to songwriting and music management in 2000. I cannot say that I am that impressed by his repertoire of self-written folk ditties, but have to respect the fact that in his time he has written songs for the likes of Jason Donovan and Pixie Lott. He wrote a follow up single for Sinitta, intended for release after So Macho and Toy Boy, but her then manager (a certain Simon Cowell) went bankrupt before it could be recorded. But his biggest claim to fame appears to be the Ivor Novello songwriting award which he won for Sandi Thom's big hit in 2007, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (With Flowers in my Hair). Now it all makes sense. I always hated that song.

Rita Coolidge is announced on stage by a member of her own band, and walks on to warm applause. She is looking good for 71 years old, elegantly dressed and wearing high heeled shoes. Her hair is still long and straight, but a shade lighter than most photographs suggest. Heaven help me if it is a wig. She compliments the auditorium, but I guess is slightly surprised to see so many empty seats, and is obviously more used to the exuberance of American audiences. For the first couple of songs she seems to be struggling to get the sound just right with her radio mic, and is constantly alternating between 'muffled boomy' and 'slightly too quiet'. She pops a mint into her mouth between songs, and regales us with tasty snippets from anecdotes and experiences of people she has met and worked with over the years - and mentions that book a couple of times, and the fact that she will be signing copies afterwards.

The band is competent, but not exceptional, although it transpires that the guitarist and backing vocalist is none other than Hamish Stuart (he of The Average White Band fame). The setlist covers many of the legends of Americana - Ry Cooder's Tattler, Kris Kristofferson's Late Again and Bob Dylan's I'll Be Your Baby Tonight, along with songs that I am more familiar with - Delaney & Bonnie's Superstar, and the duet Loving Arms (originally recorded with ex-husband Kris Kristofferson).

There are covers of Ann Peebles' I Can't Stand The Rain, The Temptations' The Way You Do The Things You Do, and a velvety-smooth version of Peggy Lee's Fever, but it is the Cherokee version of Amazing Grace that really raises the bar emotionally. She explains to us the story of the enforced re-settlement of native American tribes in the 19th century, and the subsequent 'Trail of Tears'. Coolidge claims Cherokee lineage, and from my third-row seat those tears in her eyes look genuine enough as she sings what has since become adopted as the Cherokee national anthem.

Ultimately, though, the 'hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck' moments are reserved for the twin highlights that are the pair of her biggest solo hits, (Your Love Has Lifted Me) Higher, and the first-dance wedding perennial I'd Rather Leave While I'm In Love. Call me a sentimental, if cynical, old softy, but this is what I and many others have come out tonight to hear. Legendary songs performed by a legendary singer, whilst we still can. As I said to someone before I came out for this gig, 'It's a long time since I have paid to watch someone perform who is actually older than myself''. It is not just me that isn't getting any younger.

I don't hang around for the book signing, or to try and snatch a 'selfie'. I find that whole side of things so undignified. For a first night in a strange country it's not been a bad show. It's just that the audience has been a bit non-committal for a star of her standing. Hopefully later dates, including London's Cadogan Hall, will be more appreciative.

 Instead, I head back to the car, and my fifty minute drive back to Norwich.

In the timeless words of Wallace & Grommitt, "It's been a grand day out".

Visit Bury St Edmunds - http://www.visit-burystedmunds.co.uk/tourist-information.html

Visit St Edmundsbury Cathedral - http://www.stedscathedral.co.uk/

Visit Greene King Brewery - https://www.greenekingshop.co.uk/brewery-tours/

What's on at The Apex - https://www.theapex.co.uk/

Ian W Brown website - http://www.ianwbrown.com/

Rita Coolidge website - http://www.ritacoolidge.net/