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**** (4 stars)

“A superb performance”

I’m so glad I caught the last night of the run – it was such an enjoyable show, on so many levels.  I thought we were getting a storyteller and a musician: we got two of each!

Ailsa Dixon and Ffion Phillips are playing as we enter the library: Ailsa on the cello, Ffion on the guitar – a lively dance tune that invites us to take part in, rather than simply looking at, the performance that’s about to begin.

Back when time began…there was the old woman [cailleach] and the old man [bodach] at the mouth of the cave beside the rippling lake: she milks the deer and makes the crowdie which he shapes into tiny figures and together they carry them in the creel to the top of the mountain…

And the birds [aderyn] come: the gentle little songbirds, which take the crowdie figures from the bodach’s right hand and carry them off to the sleeping people for their dreams, and the birds of the battlefield, the eagles, crows and suchlike, who take the crowdie figures from the bodach’s left hand and carry them off to be the nightmares of the people who are tossing and turning in their beds…

Birds fill all the tales – birds big and small, noble and cunning – the tiny wren, the massive eagle, the iridescent starling and kingfisher, the subtle colouring of the wise old owl, the skeins of geese calling to each other as they cross the sky, and the redstart, now colourful but once the drabbest of the drab.

Words and music fill the tales – Welsh, Scots Gaelic and [thankfully] English – I have a tiny bit of Welsh courtesy of Duolingo and a friend who lives in Dolgellau, and much much less Gaelic thanks to a friend who lives on Islay.  The languages glint and flicker like the flames on a hearth round which the storytellers gather, flow one into the other in speech and song, adding to the richness and colour of the narrative even when you don’t know what each word means.  The music and song flow through the stories, weaving their own gentle magic too.

Birds argue who should be king; boys go hunting the wren; seven brothers turn into wild geese; news of a Welsh princess’s ill-treatment at the hand of her husband, the king of Ireland, is brought to her brother by the princess’s only friend, a starling; and the redstart gains its colourful plumage when it brings the gift of fire and warmth to humankind.

Ailsa and Ffion don’t simply take turns to tell their tales; they sell them together, swapping phrases, languages, and music as they weave their magic and hold us spellbound for the hour.  There is light and darkness, joy and deep grief; and at the end of it all the redstart returns to the cailleach and bodach, bringing warmth and light to the cave beside the rippling lake back in the day when time began…

A superb performance from both women – I’m so glad I caught their show, and wish them the very best as they move south to tell their tales elsewhere: and haste ye back to Edinburgh for next year’s Fringe, please!

Aderyn / Bird, The Fringe, Scottish Storytelling Centre, Venue 30, Run Ended, for more information go to: Aderyn / Bird | Edinburgh Festival Fringe

***** (5 stars)

“An explosive combination”

‘Twas well over twenty years ago, dear reader, that I was a volunteer at the Fringe, helping to run venue 40, aka the Quaker Meeting House.  I was sharing a room with Kathie, who said I simply had to come with her to a performance by a comedian, one Mark Thomas.  I had no idea who he was, but agreed to accompany her…

If you’d told me beforehand that I’d nearly wet myself laughing at a show about the wall the Israelis were building in Israel-Palestine, I wouldn’t have believed you: but that’s exactly what happened.  Mark, while not disguising his anger at the situation, was able to find love and life and humour – real belly-laugh humour – in the people and places he visited as he walked along that wall.  He brought the Palestinians’ plight to our attention not simply by ranting but by bringing them and their situation alive while making us laugh at its absurdity.

Ever since I started reviewing, I’ve tried to catch Mark’s shows.  I’ve not always managed it, but when I have, it’s been a memorable occasion.  Trespass; The Red Shed; Bravo Figaro!, the piece about his dad; and so many more.  And then the amazing England and Son in Summerhall a couple of years ago, in which his gobsmacking acting skills left his audiences stunned and ecstatic…  These were all masterclasses in getting your message across while wrapping it in a coating of humour which did nothing to sugar-coat the underlying truths.

Forty years on stage and how is Mark doing?  Still as angry, still as outrageous, still as funny; still as passionate about the causes he’s championing and the injustices he’s spotlighting.  He warms us up with Trump and gentrification and moves on to Farage, political parties, and so much more – all wrapped up in both a rant and a celebration of his mum’s life and a deep appreciation of the double-bind in which carers, himself and his sister included, find themselves.

As ever, there’s a lot of laughter masking a great deal of both hurt and anger: an explosive combination which makes an evening with Mark both achingly funny and deeply memorable.  I hope that many of his audience will have felt moved to do something to improve the injustices and inequalities he’s so passionate about.

Here’s to the next forty years, Mark!

Mark Thomas: 40 in Standup Years, Stand Comedy Club 1, Venue 5, Runs until 30^th August for more information go to: Mark Thomas: 40 in Stand-Up Years | Edinburgh Festival Fringe

*** (3 stars)

“Compassionate”

By an amazing coincidence, or a whacking great piece of serendipity, this show dovetails neatly with the exhibitions at the Parliament that I went to last week.  One Hundred Voices leads you on a trail through the ridiculously tortuous system that currently fails to care for the children that are in care in Scotland, during which you hear voiced many of the experiences of children and young people themselves.

Unheard voices, unbroken spirits takes these voices and brings them to life.  Both exhibition and show are rightly uncomfortable – it’s outrageous that, in a country which has promised that no child shall grow up feeling unsafe or unloved, these very children are caught up in a system in which they have no control over their lives and where they feel ignored, overlooked and unheard.

The action centres around Daisy, who has long experience of being in the care system, of loving and supporting her fellows, watching them all move on, while herself feeling unsupported and rapidly losing any hope of living up to the promise she showed as a child.  Around her are Sienna, Rachael, Lara, Ethan, and her boyfriend Matthew.  The adults with whom she interacts are mainly more interested in the system, in maintaining discipline, and punishing unruly behaviour than in attempting to work out quite why Daisy is failing to live up to the promise she showed in previous years.  There were points in the action where I could quite cheerfully have given them a piece of my mind – could they not see that all the “bad behaviour” stemmed from deep unhappiness and an inability to cope with all the crap life was flinging at Daisy and her friends?

A tragic incident leaves all Daisy’s friends completely at a loss – but there is hope.  They manage to overcome their differences and, in thinking about what Daisy might have wished to see, work towards creating a safe space where young people in care can know they are heard and have a place in which they can safely just be themselves – Daisy’s Chain.

Talia Maysey directed and produced this piece, as well as composing the music.  Massive credit to Lauren Boyle who, in writing the story of Daisy, gave a voice to herself and all the other children and young people who are care-experienced.  As she says, nobody understands the care system like the kids in care do.  Writing this show, it’s not just helped me, it has helped so many others to share their stories as well. 

It’s hard to talk about your own personal stories, especially when there’s not much knowledge surrounding it.  For so long, I felt like my voice didn’t matter.  This musical is helping me realise, there are people who do want to listen, do want to help make a change.

There’s a lot of heartfelt emotion in this piece, with songs like When the snow still felt like magic; Still waiting for a miracle; Giving up on me – all heartbreaking to listen to.  The show is double cast, and I can only imagine the effort that has gone into helping all the young cast navigate the challenges of performing on stage, let alone for their first time at the Fringe.  Not everything is perfect, but it’s all deeply felt.  Solo performing is scary, and it’s obvious that having company on stage makes things easier, but I’m well impressed with the way everyone kept going no matter what – and with no musicians on stage or conductor to help them along the way.

I hope that people who come to this show will be more compassionate towards children and young people who are in care and, if they can, do something to make their lives better.  It’s easy to criticise: it’s much harder to care, and to want to make a difference.  Let’s let Lauren/ Daisy have the final word.

“A world where every kid feels seen” is the heart of the musical and by you coming today, it has helped us feel seen.  Thank you.

Unheard Voices, Unbroken Spirits, The Fringe, Gilded Balloon Patter House, Venue 24 runs until 31^st August for more information go to: Unheard Voices, Unbroken Spirits | Edinburgh Festival Fringe

***** (5 stars)

“Brilliant But Bonkers.”

A comment unashamedly stolen from a fellow concertgoer.  They were referring to one of the pieces this morning, but thiscould almost be the title for the whole concert.

Utterly brilliant, bursting with life and joie de vivre, and a showcase for the outstandingly talented wind soloists whom one usually sees within the band, standing out during their solos passages and then blending seamlessly into the orchestral ensemble.

In the first half of the programme, flautist André Cebriàn, oboeist Clara Schweinberger and clarinettist Maximiliano Martin were each accompanied by the SCO principal conductor, Maxim Emelyanychev, in the sonata Francis Poulenc wrote for their instrument.  The second half brought in bassoon player Cerys Ambrose-Evans and horn player Kenneth Henderson and gave Maxim Emelyanychev the opportunity to display his superb piano technique [while also allowing the five instrumentalists a brief rest].

I’ve known the Poulenc flute sonata for many years – my then partner was playing the piano part as one of the pieces in their degree assessment.  It was then, and is now, a delight.  The first movement cheeky, playful, sparkling with sunlight and languorously lounging; the second more wistful and yearning, with sudden outbursts of passion; and the third a mad helter-skelter dash for the finishing line where calm interludes couldn’t silence the irrepressible quirkiness which had the audience roaring their applause almost before the final note had died away.

The oboe sonata is so very different – and here we could begin to appreciate the mastery with which Poulenc showcases the different ranges, tones, and expressive qualities of each of the woodwind instruments.  The melancholy, slow opening was perfect for the oboe’s plangent, reedy tones: a gently tender conversation with the piano ensued – not without its stormy outbursts!  The middle movement is a perfect representation of Edinburgh in August – crowded, rushing to get somewhere, mostly good-humoured and with short oases of calm.  The third movement was meditative, the oboe floating in a dreamworld, lamenting a sad memory; occasionally remembering stormy moments, but ending in melancholy.  It took the audience a few moments to recover, but the applause increased in volume and energy as we came back from our reverie to the present day.

The clarinet sonata is a different beast again – and yet still unmistakably Poulenc.  The irrepressibly energetic opening exploited the clarinet’s full range both of pitch and tone.  The piano pushed rhythmically and the clarinet surfed the waves with a typically quirky melodic line.  The two instruments tried to have a serious, grave conversation but kept bursting out playfully till everything came to a sudden stop.  In the second movement, transparent floating aqueous piano chords had the clarinet sinuously emerging from the depths to soar in liquid arpeggios before the two playfully tossed fragments of melody to each other and joined in a tender conversation before the third movement’s furious fireworks, interspersed with moments of calm, led to another fabulously quirky ending which resulted in another ROAR of applause from the Queens Hall audience.

Jean Français’ L’heure du Berger, written in 1947, is a brief but witty character sketch of three of the types of customers to be seen in a Parisian café, in which all six players could let their hair down and Just Have Fun.  Les beaux vieux [the old dandies], Pin-up Girls, and Les Petits Nerveux [nervous children] are delightfully lively pieces for five wind instruments and piano.  The dandies have obviously been at the drink; the pin-up girls are much calmer; and the kids are virtually completely out of control in the most delightful way.

A moment of calm from Maxim Emelyanychev followed.  In Ravel’s descriptive Jets d’eau [fountains] the water trembled and shimmered, the jets rose and fell, sprinkling sparkling drops everywhere, tossed by the wind and then subsiding again into a gentle calm.

We came back to Poulenc to enjoy once more his inimitable ability to create moods, his elegant, sophisticated, quirky sense of fun, and the consummate skill and exquisite phrasing of the six musicians.  The Sextet for winds and piano opens with another hectic street scene – even more Edinburgh in August: seeming chaos with moments of glorious melody until everyone seems finally to work out where they’re going and jauntily set off together.  A more gentle middle movement tosses phrases from instrument to instrument, giving each a chance to shine and display their individual characteristics, before another mad gallop to a finale that in typical Poulenc fashion managed to surprise us all into silence.

And another perfect storm of storm of applause breaks out – thunderous clapping, stamping of feet and loud cheers saluting a wonderfully uplifting, delightfully uproarious morning at the Queens Hall.  Imagine our joy when we got an encore – revisiting those delightfully skittish petits nerveux: the perfect ending to a perfect concert. 

Thank you, Maxim, and your wonderful soloists for a morning of pure joy.

Maxim Emelyanychev and SCO Wind Soloists, Edinburgh International Festival, The Queens Hall, Run Ended. For more information go to: Maxim Emelyanychev and SCO Wind Soloists, Edinburgh International Festival,