My Name Is Rachel Corrie was first staged by Alan Rickman in 2005. It tells the story of an American activist who travelled to Gaza in 2003 on a humanitarian trip. It played at Royal Court Theatre, but its transfer to Off-Broadway was blocked. Alan Rickman said “This is censorship born out of fear, and the New York Theatre Workshop, the Royal Court, New York audiences – all of us are the losers.” It did find a home in NYC later in 2006 for a run. There have been subsequent productions since, including at Fringe and one earlier this year in Manchester.

This production was at Greenwich Theatre, directed by the in-house artistic director.

My background

I knew of her story, but not about this play. I didn’t know of the incident at the time, being lost in a haze of guitars in my student days and rather uninformed about current affairs. In fact, I was blissfully unaware of the history of the conflict until reading an article that showed land in the area since 1948. Having grown up at a school with significant focus on the Old Testament, I knew of the land of Israel from biblical times, and I would hear in the 90s during the inter-intifada era about skirmishes in the region, and it seemed like the state had been there throughout. After that article, I read deeply into the history right from struggles before the establishment of the state right through to the present day. I was horrified to learn about the conflicts and present status. It’s difficult to remain neutral and apathetic during such violent asymmetry. I was vocal about it for a while, but in recent years I’ve seen friends suffer the consequence of public advocacy. I feel like a coward for not speaking out more, but much of that is borne from despondency. A few tweets won’t move the needle. One thing I thought would be interesting is to attend a rally with a placard saying ‘I don’t support Palestine Inaction’ but I’m unsure whether fellow supporters would see it as a cop-out, and of the legalities of it (cop-in?). Unfortunately I’m not willing to risk the consequences of having an arrest on my record for making a statement, especially as I don’t support sledgehammering a cop, although I have no qualms with endorsing the destruction of an arms factory regardless of who they’re supplying. I almost made the national press with an incident related to a (non-violent) protest at another arms site (representing an interested third party in attendance) but I had to leave one of my team to make the statement as she had remit over the region it happened in. Further details in my autobiography.

Once I commit to a play, a show, an event, I limit my exposure. I want the story to reveal itself. You could read just the tagline or brief synopsis of a TV show e.g. mum adjusts to life in the seedy criminal underworld after her husband goes missing - but it opens with the husband, and you know how half the first episode will play out. All I knew about this play was it was put together from her diaries. I’d read a review about God’s Promise at Cockpit Theatre a few weeks before, and it said it was a little all over the place - stories presented in various ways, sometimes lacking coherent flow. In my mind, I pictured that My Name Is Rachel Corrie would similarly feature different scenes in different ways from a small ensemble cast. I was wrong - it was a one woman show, and told her story from her awakening through to the end.

I reminded myself of the facts of her mission and death before the play, so the grander details were known, just not the format or style in which it was presented.

The night of the play

I was being accompanied by a prolific blogger and event attendee I met earlier in the year. We’ve been to a few shows together - we have some overlapping interests and some diverging ones (most notably film) but sometimes the calendar stars will align and we’ll catch a show together. It’s nice to have a blog post to compare mine to - two different takes from adjacent seats.

It was our first time to Greenwich Theatre. It’s a bit out of the way for me, but I’m in no way averse to travelling there. A DLR is easy enough. I’d been to the area once before for Up The Creek’s Blackout comedy show. A few of my friends were in the area for The Strokes at the O2 but having seen them twice in the past decade, I’d had my fill.

It was in their smaller space, with free seating. I was waiting close enough to the door so when it opened, I was able to pick seats. Front centre. When I’m in a poor seat with a compromised view at a big West End theatre, I tell myself that soon enough I’ll be in a small theatre with choice of seats and proximity.

There wasn’t a (printed) programme, but there was a flyer, and I scanned the QR code for the brief digital version.

The play

SPOILERS:

She was sitting on the bed, already in character, silent. A young American woman living a simple life, a little unburdened by troubles half a world away.

It was almost ten minutes before it opened. Rachel - played by Cassie Bradley - was talking about life in Washington state. She talked about second grade, with rules on the wall. The only one she remembered, and wrote on the wall of the set, was ‘Everyone must feel safe’. It was at this point I felt the connection between her motivation and that of another outspoken advocate for the oppressed - Ms Rachel the children’s entertainer, whose advocacy for safety and security of kids has brought her into criticism because apparently that is controversial.

The build-up was quite protracted, although fitting. It painted a picture of who Rachel was and what her life was like at the time, and influential elements of her life up to that point that informed her worldview. It was over 30 minutes, closer to 40 perhaps out of the 90 minute show until she arrived in Gaza.

Shortly after it started, she broke her bed up into 6 constituent blocks which all served purposes on the set later - somewhere to sit on, to stand when addressing the crowd etc. The set had a lot more width to it than depth. The walls were decorated, but had spaces on either wing for scribbling with black chalk and she’d do so several times during the play.

She was restless. Her brother and sister were high flyers, but she shunned that in favour of something that made a difference. She started off in her local area before joining the nascent international humanitarian group because she wanted to make more of an impact.

In Gaza, she was welcomed by many she met. They appreciated her efforts and warm nature. The people she met and stayed with were just ordinary everyday people, and she felt they faced injustice for being mixed up in a conflict. At the time there was supposed to be peace, but there was occupation, enforced heavy-handedly. The houses she stayed at hosted her with hospitality, refusing to take anything. They re-iterated that they’re not a hotel - they were just grateful for her presence.

We were getting dates so that we could see how far into her visit she was - it was taken from diary entries and often she’d read them out in that form. She talked about what she would do for the cause when she returned to USA, so she was clearly planning for the future. Within a week, two weeks, there had been clashes and skirmishes. The international status of the volunteers offered some protection against the excesses of the trigger-happy occupying forces, but they were not gracious about it, often flying too close to the bone for comfort.

She sparked up a smoke, a legally allowed clove cigarette used as a prop in theatre (indoors). I don’t think I’ve been this close to a stage cigarette since the ban came in. She had a few puffs and then let it burn in the ashtray. I was mere metres away, and it was pretty pungent, burning and lingering for around 10 minutes.

There was a moment she donned the hi-vis jacket and spoke through the megaphone. This outfit matched that she wore on the day she died, but it was used here in an earlier scene, a similar situation.

You could sense her anger and frustration escalate with each interaction, each setback, each unfair act that continued to oppress her hosts. I knew how it ended. I’d caught up on the aftermath too, so there was a tinge of sadness and anger towards her fate throughout, growing as the story proceeded to the grim climax.

We reached the fateful end. The character exited the stage through a door, and a factual eye-witness statement from a colleague from the same humanitarian organisation was shown on the screen paragraph by paragraph detailing how she died at the hands of a stubbornly belligerent combatant in an armoured bulldozer provided by her home nation. It was a powerful climax. We were invested in the plight of the residents and the actions of an idealistic young activist trying to make a difference in a difficult environment. It moved some to tears.

Cassie Bradley returned to the stage to bow. We were still processing it - knew how it ended, but that doesn’t alter the impact. I thought she was brilliant. I’m not the best gauge of the intricate elements of an actor’s performance. I was once again wowed by the ability to remember, recite, deliver 90 minutes of dialogue without stumbling. Kudos to anyone who manages that. One blogger was critical of it, and gave the show 2*, saying only the climax tapped into the emotion. Another gave it 5 stars and another 2.5 out of 3. I thought she was captivating and did the role justice - very impressive to me. I’d give this a solid 8, but place extra importance on the value of the story being told - it’s not just fiction that exists only on the stage, that ceases to have value once the curtain falls. It was a story that needs to be told, that needs to be spread, so her memory, legacy and work can live on.

Aftermath

The blackout on stage wasn’t the end of the story. It was the end of Rachel’s life, but that started a new chapter - ‘accountability’ and impunity. It’s long said Israel is USA’s only ally in the middle east, and they tolerate a lot to maintain that relationship. I didn’t see any support during the War of Terror or the Iraq invasion. Both wars were hugely flawed and unnecessary, and I never felt comfortable with us (UK) rampaging in after USA for the sake of the special relationship, one which the orange buffoon disregards anyway for trivial slights. I am glad from a pacifist perspective that a country chose not to pile in, but it does need to be asked why the only ally in the region opted to sit it out. Only motivated by self-interest? This happened shortly before the Iraq invasion, so their absence was conspicuous but unchallenged. Where USA did massively let itself, Rachel and the Corrie family down is the aftermath. USA refused to condemn Israel. USA refused to hold its own inquiries. USA allowed Israel to treat it as an internal military matter, one which was effectively dismissed pathetically with practically no ramifications. State endorsed slaughter and even an American passport wasn’t enough to defend her in life or in death.

The entire saga was just another instalment in a protracted and bloody dispute with an unjust imbalance of power. A woman with a megaphone and hi-vis vs an armoured bulldozer. A captive population, unarmed, subject to sanctions, restrictions and ground invasions and air attacks. One person’s sacrifice was not enough to change the narrative, and without this play, her sacrifice would’ve been hidden away in the annals of history.

Dedicated to Rachel Corrie, who lost her life fighting for freedom and fairness for others.

I’d never been to Open House before. It had been going since 1992, starting off in London before spreading around the world. I’d only heard of it around 2010, but had not been particularly motivated to visit any buildings. This year, I tried to book a trio - 10 Downing Street was done by ballot. Despite reciprocating with a friend to double my chances, I wasn’t successful. When the booking opened for other popular venues, it was pandemonium, and I emerged scathed, with just 1 out of the 2 locations I wanted (no luck with Lloyds of London building)

.

BT Tower is the imposing structure in the heart of the city, and would be on any Londoner’s radar, especially if they owned radio equipment. It was famed for its revolving restaurant, offering fine views over the city.

History

There were a few security hoops to jump through. We had to confirm our details after booking, and had to bring ID to match it. This was less about tout control and more about safety. We have restrictions on bag sizes at concerts after the Manchester Arena bombing, we have a ring of steel in the square mile after the IRA bombings in the early 90s, and BT Tower, or Post Office Tower/Telecom Tower as it was known then had a bomb in 1971 by an anarchist far-left group called the Angry Brigade. The consequence of the bomb was the popular attraction, the observation tower, was closed to the public. The restaurant, which I didn’t appreciate was open to the public, was operated by Butlins! It continued until its lease ran out in 1980, but became invite only after the bomb.

I spoke to my dad before I went, and he said he visited it in 1966. He’d arrived that year, and was advised that it was a worthy attraction. His memory of it is sketchy, but he must’ve been to the observation tower. Certainly for people like us (vegetarians), the menu wasn’t particularly enticing. We went to Butlins a couple of times in the 80s, and I probably subsisted on chips, but for this restaurant, they had fancy French dining. British cuisine back then would’ve been even more questionable than it is today, and in 1965 in nearby Soho, the capital just got its first pizzeria (Pizza Express), so dining out even in fancy places back then was not like it is today with the vibrant cosmopolitan restaurant scene.

I was supplementing the information I was learning with a little read into the tower’s history. One of my favourite facts, which is now a factoid (something that sounds like a fact but is in fact erroneous) is that the tower wasn’t on Ordnance Survey maps. Information about the tower was an official secret due to its importance in crucial telecoms (the microwave network), and despite it being prominent as the tallest building in the UK from 1964 to 1980, technically remained secret until Kate Hoey mentioned it in parliament deliberately in 1993 using parliamentary privilege, so that it would become a matter of public record. Whilst the secrecy element is true, it did appear on OS maps prior to that revelation. In a 1978 trial of an investigative journalist (who 2 years earlier had revealed GCHQ), the judge referred to it as simply ‘Location 23’.

Visit

I turned up just in time. My slot was 1:15 to 2, and I got to the building spot on. There was quite the queue outside - it was all my group. It was a good 15 minutes until they opened the doors, started processing everyone and I got in. I asked the security team in the entrance lobby if there were any handouts, and they said they don’t have any, and to check inside to see if there was. I would’ve been happy with just a DL sized flyer branded with BT Tower as a small memento.

In the foyer beyond, there was some history from their archives. I linger. I absorb every bit of information. The first thing I did was grab the booklet and handouts - there was quite a significant amount of goodies, and the archiver in me was glad to grab such a haul.

I did see a sign talking about reduced lift capacity which meant visits were now cut down to 30 minutes instead of 45 (and 15 were lost to the entry process). Perhaps I should’ve progressed faster to the main attraction….! I was nudged along (told that I should check this stuff out after the trip up) so I got in the queue to the lift. Only one was working, hence the queue. I noted a cool feature on the broken lift. It was an etching of the tower’s outline, with a light tube running up the centre indicating where the lift had reached. This was lit up on the broken lift, but whilst queueing, I asked to see it on the working lift, but sadly it was broken on that! I was gutted…..but then when it was my turn, I got into the lift and - it was working!! Oh how my heart jumped with glee. I wanted to document it, but in an enclosed space, I felt halfway between an annoying tourist and an annoying livestreamer. I wanted to tell everyone about it, but I was mindful of ruining the commentary of the video. This video had the potential to go viral and lead to the success of this project (and my subsequent downfall, much later, for frankly unjust reasons), so the audio needed to be as clean as possible. The lift wasn’t particularly fast, but we got there eventually, the doors opened and….

….we’d arrived!

The revolving floor

The immediate feeling wasn’t wow. Firstly I was drawn to the demarcation between the fixed and the rotating position. I was curious how was it moved. I knew it was 22 minutes per revolution (I was hoping they would do 22 revolutions per minute for us, but sadly we weren’t treated to ‘Fairground Ride Mode’). I put one foot on the fixed, and one on the moving side, and it slowly moved around.

I wandered over to the edge, to the window and started looking around. Central London was once a vast region to me that I only knew pockets of, but over recent years I’ve spent a lot of time working and living around there and my topography has increased hugely. I’m familiar with most of it at street level, but this opened up a whole new dimension.

There was such a mix of architecture, layouts and interesting buildings to catch your eye. There’s so much greenery, which I don’t think we necessarily realise or appreciate. I first noted it in 2013 when Istanbul had protests over the development of the last green space in the city centre.

You could see far out - right up to Wembley Stadium and beyond. Apparently you can see as far as the South Downs on a clear day, which I didn’t appreciate at the time is all the way to the Sussex coast. Visibility for us was reasonable.

There were some Open House volunteers around who were very helpful, but as outsiders, only had limited information. I was most curious to see how much space there would be for diners. Apparently in its public days, it could hold 130 people, but now it has space for 8 round tables of 10. Whilst closed to the public, BT host several functions there a week.

There were two stations offering free refreshments - soft drinks, tea and coffee, biscuits. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m normally self-sufficient, but it’s a nice touch. I continued moving around - I wanted to do a quick loop in case there was a star attraction or queue for anything - just to get my bearings and a feel for the entire thing. And then I spotted it…..a merch table! Love a bit of merch. It was crewed by someone from the tower, so I was able to ask more questions whilst grabbing a few mementoes. I got a fridge magnet, three badges and a small model. I collect fridge magnets (a bit belatedly because my fridge has a non-magnetic panel so it’s not a comprehensive collection of all my travels), I have a little display for things like the model. I’m a huge badge enthusiast, although these have limited value outside of here. I put a badge on immediately, and for the rest of the visit I was the coolest guy in the room, before packing them away for good (or until my next trip). It was also exceptionally reasonably priced - £12.50 for the lot. Giving us handouts, refreshments and some merch meant a lot - it showed that they were really engaged with the visitors to maximise our experience.

In the queue, I read that it was acquired by a hotel group in 2024. Apparently they were told there would be no events after March this year, but they extended that until next March, allowing for this event to go ahead, although it’s likely this will be the last. The proprietor is keen to keep the floor running, but being keen in principle and the practicalities and budget mean nothing is guaranteed, and I was pleased that I was able to get in before the opportunity was lost.

From the top of the tower, people on the ground looked like ants to us, and from their position looking up, we look like restaur ants. With ultrazoom found on modern phones, I was able to fill the frame with people on the street. Such observation towers would be useful for spies to snoop from a distance.

They were calling people back down - I was number 96 and they asked for 1 to 30 to return. I did speak to them and they said they’re flexible - there’s no fixed end time. I really wanted to absorb what I was seeing, the finer elements. I did a few slow loops, taking in each area. One of the most striking was the Square Mile, a monument to capitalism but also a visible cluster of tall buildings.

I was looking to see if there were vast tracts of forgotten land and I could snap up for a bargain price to develop my mansion.

One mansion was particularly prominent - the US ambassador’s residence in Regents Park. Many years ago, when I got into photography, I was doing some urban architecture by night. I was travelling a lot to Europe, and being a night owl, I’d roam the streets and snap scenes. One day, driving home past Hampstead, I stopped off and wandered around the Regents Park area. There I was, a young brown guy with a fancy camera, spotting a lovely isolated house in the Inner Circle. As I start clicking, two armed coppers reverse-Homer Simpson from the bushes and question me. I only learned about the resident after I got home and searched it. They weren’t difficult with me, they were just asking what I was doing - and in hindsight, whilst it was an innocent excursion (which they quickly accepted), it must’ve been a bit weird, and I feel I at least brought some joy and excitement to their otherwise dreary shift. Seeing it from this angle showed just how isolated it is inside a huge central park.

I felt my time was nearly up, but I had a belated idea. I put my phone down at the base of a window and tried a timelapse video. It worked quite well, so I thought I’d go for the full rotation, or at least as much as I can before the session ends. I put it down and began chatting to the lady running the merch stall about some more of its history. She was in the inner (fixed) segment and after a few minutes, the phone was out of view. I looked over to my left and beyond, but couldn’t see it. A slight bit of panic - I shouldn’t really have left it unattended in public. I’m stressing, and pulling out my other phone to trace it. She nods in the other direction and I see it where I left it, well 20º further round, but still in the same fixed position. I was fortunate enough to get the full rotation, which became the first TikTok video for this project.

@londonlowdownTimelapse of London from the BT Tower - 22 minutes compressed into 22 seconds #london

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Back to ground

Once the video was complete, I returned to ground level. This time there was just myself and another visitor and the lift operator, so I was able to get another video of the light in the lift.

I took the time to see the rest of the display and artefacts, and then watched an 18 minute video on loop in the lecture room. There was a lot of good archive footage and information in here. Annoyingly, halfway through, a pair entered and talked at normal conversational level. I get that you think your experience has finished, but show some decorum and hush it until you’ve left, or at least make some effort to whisper.

They had the original menu, and they had details about the competition to name the tower. There were some great suggestions - PORTAL (Post Office Radio Tower At London), Teltower and Telspire. The Postmaster General at the time of the competition (1962/3) was Reginald Bevins and he rejected these in favour of Post Office Tower, the worst of all options. BT was in existence then, but it was the Post Office that dealt with comms of this manner, hence the name. I always found that a bit weird, because I’ve only know Post Offices to sell stamps and hand out driving licence forms etc. When BT did take over comms, it was known as Telecom Tower until 1991 when it changed names again to the current one.

The Tower cost £2.9m to build and £6.1m to kit out. I’d always assumed the tower was predominantly offices, that it was BT’s corporate HQ, and that the restaurant was the staff canteen. Staff had a separate canteen, and the building was predominantly filled with telecoms equipment. Central London was selected because whilst land was more valuable, the cost to tunnel cables to a suburban hub would’ve been too much. I was thinking of the foundations before I went, and they showed a graphic of just how deep and wide they were - greater than I expected. To counteract sway, they built a bridge deck from the adjoining Museum Telephone Exchange on the 9th floor to collar the tower. This must be the famous Tower-Bridge in London I’m always hearing about. I’m always impressed by the engineering that goes into such structures, especially novel and creative fixes to issues that arise, and the confidence that it will remain stable and safe.

One significant change is that all the dishes that covered the segment below the rotating levels (seen here in 2011) have been removed now - compare to the 2025 image

I left with one less top-tier fact in my arsenal, but had a thoroughly fun time and a deluxe experience - far better than anticipated, with lots of bonuses and extras. I appreciate the efforts of staff, volunteers and the organisation, and am grateful I got the chance to visit before the next stage in the tower’s history.

I was back at Soho Theatre once again, seeing Leila Nawabi. I previously saw her during my last trip to Fringe in 2023. Late on a Sunday night, squeezed into a packed room on the top floor of Pleasance, I didn’t have many expectations beyond it being a name that had come up on my radar and the scheduling suited me. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw - she was young, and clearly still figuring the world out, but making strides into her career as a comic. The show centred around the controversy and fall-out from a comment she made about Rishi Sunak on Welsh radio as a 21 year old brown Welsh comic. She said the Chancellor did “not represent most brown people, unless most people have a billion pounds” and then called him Prince Charles in brownface. This of course triggered a backlash from the anti-snowflake mob. Typical hypocrisy! But fuel for a Fringe show. I left there outraged on her behalf, but certainly entertained. The fact that that show was reviewed 3 stars but I loved it further fuels my reluctance to value subjective opinions

Relay

This show was called Relay, and was her 2025 Fringe show. Unfortunately there was nothing else on the bill that night to warrant a double whammy, but I was willing to travel in for the single event. The first thing that struck me was how under-sold it was. Just 38 in the room. She’s there for 3 nights, and has an insta following of nearly 6000. I expected more.

Audience Size

I’ve always felt that the audience size at Fringe and for the same show on tour is directly related to marketing/hype and unfairly not reflective of quality. Most notably for me, I saw Jon Harvey do treasuRETROve (love the wordplay in the title) at the Vault Festival on a Sunday night once to a near empty room. I was there because I’d seen him headline Festival of the Spoken Nerd’s An Evening of Unnecessary Detail’s big special show at Bloomsbury Theatre. I was not quite aware of what the show entailed. It was billed as an ode to 80s VHS films and b-movies. I was not prepared for the journey he took us on. It turns out Jon is man dressed up as Lord Buckethead, a character he discovered in ones of those forgotten films. He appropriated the character as a joke candidate against Theresa May, bringing the most adored and comical challenger since the heyday of the Monster Raving Loony Party. (I just learned whilst writing this that the UK distributor of the original film stood against Thatcher in Finchley in 87 and 92, although I don’t remember him having much impact at the time.) He then detailed the dispute with the copyright owner which led to him creating a similar but original character Count Binface for several elections since. (side note: bin in Arabic names means ‘son of’ and I always chuckle to myself that he’s Count bin Face AKA Count, son of Face. In a similar way, whenever I see Watford Bypass on my maps, I read it as Watford-by-pass.) The show was a journey starting off innocuously as a love letter to a childhood hobby before developing into one of the greatest political tales of the modern era. And the room was painfully empty. An exceptionally brilliant show but not the audience it warranted. I felt the same here - the upstairs room can hold about 90 people and deserved to be packed. Onto the show itself…..

Re-Relay

She opened with a keytar song.

The show was punctuated with a few songs, mainly with keytar. They were funny enough, and a nice unique approach.

4 wooden figures stood at the back of the room, turned around. Over the course of the story, they were revealed to us. Firstly her partner, a fellow comic. I won’t spoil the narrative and reveal the central element, but the story followed a journey they embarked upon. All I can say is I’m glad I hadn’t googled her to see what she’s been up to lately, or to convince my companion, because what she’s been doing since I last saw her would’ve revealed the show’s entire story, and the key twist. She narrated the story well, with few jokes but a funny slant throughout. I was once again looking for the emotional hook at 42 minutes, but the story didn’t unfold in that way. This one bucked the trend, with the twist coming towards the end. It was unexpected but welcome and tied the story together beautifully.

This night, I was sober. The bar downstairs was empty after, which was disappointing from the perspective of less heave would’ve been more comfortable than last time when I remained in the bar for ages and it was standing room only. It was uncharacteristically quiet for that hour, but I guess whatever shows were on that night and the timings meant that fewer stayed for a debrief and a nightcap. My companion had a train to catch so I too left immediately, which meant my door-to-door time was a mere 3 hours.

On the way home, I reacquainted myself with her partner (Priya Hall)’s material. I was most familiar with her radio show and TV pilot Beena and Amrit but her insta was also full of clips of her latest show which presented the same story from a different perspective.

Without much further to say about the show, this is a brief journal. But if you’re into female/queer/POC comedy stylings, or even not, she’s definitely one to check out when you next see her name flash up on the bill.

It was a for a duo playing electro with instruments. One on drums, so the other was doing a LOT of work to create their sound. As a lover of the electro sound of the mid 2000s, I was excited by the prospect of a live band performing something similar - and conveniently they were playing in Camden soon.

Unfortunately for them, despite their skill and recognition, they weren’t even the landmark Canadian drummer and instrumentalist duo of the month for me, but that is a different story……!

I had the same dilemma as last time - leaving Chelsea after 8pm. I had the option of public or car, and I knew parking would be better in Camden, but I opted for the choice that allowed me to enjoy a couple of beers.

I feel venues/bands/promoters should be obliged to put set-times on social media once sorted. The event was on until 11pm, but began at 7:30. I couldn’t get there until 9ish, but knowing stagetimes would’ve informed my urgency. I eventually got the message via another attendee who’d been asking the same in insta comments.

I would’ve made perfect timing, but for a sliding doors moment. As I changed platforms, I reached the Northern Line just as the doors closed. SIX minutes until the next one, but annoyingly, the one behind it was just a minute later.

Venue

The venue, Black Heart, is one of the resilient pubs that has managed to stay true to its metal roots as Camden became increasingly gentrified and generic. Prior to reaching the age of participation, Camden to me was infamous for being the epicentre of the punk, metal, rock, indie and other related scenes. I wasn’t really into these in my early days, so I frequented Camden only occasionally, before I became a fully signed up member of the rock community, by which time it hard largely disappeared. That was over 20 years ago, so you can only imagine how few fragments survived. Black Heart is one of few, and I’m grateful conditions allow for it to weather the storm that closed many of their peers. I’m not averse to metal fan, but I’m a peripheral fan at most. And this was my first visit to the upstairs performance space except for an aborted attempt to see Mountain Caller play a sold-out gig there. I was annoyed at missing that, especially as I was living walking distance away, and I have sort of a personal connection with the band. One of my uni friends played in a band with one of them back in our student days. The band was incredibly talented, to say the least. I knew few rockers back then (even less so know!), and they were the most impressive, although it was a low-key and short-lived project. Mountain Caller is JUST the sort of music I love, and I have all* their releases on vinyl - 2 LPs and an EP. They’d only played 3 times in 4 years in London before this, and only once since, when I was out of the country. Not getting a ticket in time/getting lucky on the door meant I missed my opportunity, as they’ve been silent all of 2025. The band I’d say they are closest to that I know of is God is an Astronaut.

*Whilst writing this, I noted they had released a second album which I’m ordering now.

Food

Black Heart’s other claim to fame is the kitchen. Fully vegan, and quite renowned in the community. I had been meaning to indulge, but had not quite got round to it. This was the perfect opportunity. My diet officially started on 1st March, hours after the end of the gig. I did have healthy food with me in the office fridge, but a busy day meant I’d not quite sat down to it. All the pieces were falling into place - the kitchen was open until 10, and I’d happily skip a track or two of the gig to scoff a treat. I’d been planning what to get, and decision paralysis with a dollop of glutton meant I’d pre-settled on everything. Annoyingly, upon arriving (about 6 minutes late thanks to the missed connection), I was advised that food was for bookings only. Despite a bit of pleading (my puppy eyes will melt any but the blackest of hearts) and sharing my meat-free status and excitement, I was unable to place an order. I was later told that they’d had an unexpectedly large party come earlier in the day, which is fair. I will try another time, but it would require me to defy my commitment to healthy eating.

Gig

The band itself was great - what I expected based on the reel that reeled me in. I was at the back of the room, which meant my view was limited. Beyond the sea of heads, there was no visibility. Lots of lights coming from the stage, and loud music, but no hint of the musicians, not even a silhouette. Atmospheric? I’m not sure. I was there for the music, but I was a bit disappointed I couldn’t see the sound come to life. I was most curious about how one person makes so much sound - guitar, vocals, keyboards - and I felt I was only getting half the performance.

Fortunately, every time I nipped downstairs to grab another pint, better space opened up and by the end I shuffled close enough to the front to actually see something. The view still wasn’t ideal, but I could at least make out the main guy at times.

Some people in the crowd knew some of their tracks, but I was there for the vibes. Their sound was impressive and enjoyable, energetic, and a lesser-heard nostalgic sound that was once central to my life. They’ve hit quite a sizeable fan base - almost 100k insta followers - but still playing tiny venues. The last band I saw play somewhere similar only had a following in the thousands (undeservedly so) so I’m guessing their instagram friendly clips have captured eyes around the world, but they’re still to translate that to ticket sales.

Vinyl

After my last gig, the band were selling their latest release on vinyl for £20. Very cheap by vinyl standards, so I grabbed one as a memento. This time I was first in the queue to cop the LP, but I balked at the £50 price label. It was a limited, self-released double vinyl, but I wasn’t willing to pay more than my entire annual spotify subscription for one album that’ll probably mostly sit on my shelves. It was the same price on their website, just without the extortionate postage cost from Canada, but I’m finding record releases are being priced too excessively these days for comfort, and my 30 year passion has waned massively during the era of vinyl revival predominantly for this reason.

Food (again)

That just left the unresolved issue of my rumbling belly. Fortunately an old favourite, Temple of Seitan was just down the road. It slowly becomes more convenient. From starting off in Hackney, to moving to Kings Cross but a 15 minute walk from the station, to a conveniently located Camden store, but closing at 9:30, I was often thwarted. They now closed at 11pm, so perfectly timed for a visit. I gleefully grabbed a new item (garlic parm wrap) and an old classic. Forgive the poor quality pic - but it was delicious. Vegan fast food can be eye-wateringly priced, but I luckily had £5 of rewards in a dormant account, which eased the burden. It also proved my theory that hungry drunks are less price-sensitive than savvy consumers. Was a decent runner-up option, but still gutted to have missed out at Black Heart.

I was back to Soho Theatre for a double-header. Sometimes I find it frustrating to spend four hours door to door to see an hour long show, so the offer of a 7:30 and a 9:15 show was a nice and efficient evening out.

I’m a huge fan of Soho Theatre. It’s amongst my most attended venues (over 50 times in the past 8 years including the covid era) - conveniently located, with excellent programming. They seem to put on most of the significant Fringe shows, and in my five visits to Edinburgh, I only ever caught the award winning show (Ahir Shah’s Ends) there once, but thanks to ST, I’ve seen every winning show for a number of years, plus a lot of highly rated ones that slipped through my net (it’s quite the task to sift through 3000+ shows and identify the most acclaimed).

Olga Koch

First up was Olga Koch. I’d seen her Edinburgh show (Prawn Cocktail) last time I was there in 2023, and it was a decent show of conventional format. She’d also hosted the comedy gala at a convention I was at last year, and similarly, it was entertaining. It was certainly good enough to entice me down to Soho on a free evening. My companion took a punt, having not heard of her, and when she asked me what to expect as we were waiting for the proverbial curtain to rise, I said she’s Russian heritage (her dad briefly served as Deputy Prime Minister in the chaotic early post Soviet days during her youth), British citizen, internationally educated, with quite raunchy (sex positive) content. And almost immediately, those subjects came to the fore. To my surprise though, rather than being central to the narrative like they were in her previous show, and her polished 20 from the convention, she breezed through them quickly.

I initially assumed this was her 2025 Fringe show, as many are still touring (they take it on the road post-Edinburgh (August), normally concluding around spring so they can write, workshop and prepare their next show in time), however I later learned this was her 2026 show, produced by a programmer from Soho Theatre, and this was perhaps only the second ever performance of it.

As a budding comic myself, I feel a screen is a crucial element to my style and format, and whilst it seems their use is on the rise, comics historically have shunned them for a more conventional and staid one-person-and-a-microphone performance. Not Olga! She had two pillars and a platform, all drenched in white, and a white floored arena. Projections were put on the objects with regularity, perfectly complementing, emphasising or enhancing her material. She covered most inches of the floor through the show, in a performance that wasn’t overly physical, but far from stagnant.

The crafting of an Edinburgh hour, as I call them - the classic Fringe show - is something that always fascinates me. Shows aren’t mandated to be an hour, and some performances, especially theatre, can be longer, but stand-up shows are typically an hour long. The comic progresses from 5 minute long entry level sets to 7 and 10s, then 20s as they establish themselves. These sets can be anchored by a few anecdotes stitched together with clever segues, but when it comes to forming a full hour, it needs a strong narrative to weave the entire story together.

Something I’ve also been trying to decipher is the role of a director. In the afore-mentioned style of just talking for an hour, the director does have some work to hone and tune the finished product. With Olga’s show, however, she was darting all over the place. The sound and lighting needed clinical precision, but the movement and expression here were significantly greater than usual, and added a huge new dimension.

Her first Fringe show was a decade ago so she’s certainly accomplished and experienced, but this show was still surprising to me, in that it was sensational. There was nothing wrong with her previous show, but this one was exceptional. Particular credit goes to her for mastery of the art of callbacks. There were multiple examples through the show where a callback to an earlier point came out of the blue in a comical way. As mentioned before, the incorporation of AV for this was incredible too.

But as with all shows of this length, it needs a narrative - a central focus to tie it all together. A few years ago, a director told me the 42 minute mark is the classic point where the narrative takes an emotional turn. Gone are the wisecracks and laughs, it gives way to the pivotal moment where the story hits intensity before giving way to the resolution and wrap-up. Since then, I’ve noticed that EVERY* (most?) shows follow this formula. It was something I’d noted in the cadence of shows before, but after being informed of it, I realised that you could set your watch by it. Doing it at the end is an alternative approach. Occasionally used, if that’s the way the story demands. Her central tale’s dramatic and tragic crescendo came towards the very end, and gave way to heartfelt reflection. It was emotional and insightful, although 40% of my brain power at this point was being consumed by my own personal battle - of bladder control. I can sit still for an hour, or I can drink. The two are mutually exclusive. I nursed my bottle, but even then my capacity was approximately 61.5 minutes.

I’ve not seen much comedy of this format lately, but over the years I’ve seen countless ones at the Fringe, at Soho Theatre and various other venues. This was particularly great, a highlight and certainly one of a select few that I would put in the 9+ out of 10 category. I expect accolades and glowing reviews for it. Whilst proficiency in the Fringe scene is disparate to mainstream appeal (the arena comics who are near household names), she also has material to thrive in those circles, having appeared on Live at the Apollo in 2023 https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001t5rf and has a solid set that would work well with casual comedy fans.

I see her getting more recognition soon, deservedly so, but I hope it’s not to the detriment of this style of show. Is it possible to straddle both worlds effectively?

Interval

A solid 45 minute gap between the two shows allowed time to digest and dissect the show, fill our glasses and prepare for the next show. I’ve always felt a level of warmth and belonging at Soho Theatre and I often recognise a familiar face in the bar or acquaint myself with strangers. It does have a tendency to get quite packed before shows begin, but as long as there’s enough place to navigate through and some free standing space, it’s a pleasant environment with decent folk.

Show 2

The second was in the basement, with cabaret seating. This was a total punt for me - I’d seen the listing and someone had endorsed it, so I figured why not? I was out, and it was convenient!

I took my typical approach to something new to me - I limited my research so that everything about it would be fresh. Not even the blurb. I was asked what it was by my friend, and I couldn’t answer much more than ‘a couple of comics, maybe some sort of sketch style 🤷‍♂️?’

This time it was a 2025 Fringe show. I shunned reviews - I find scores far too subjective, and they reveal too much about a story I want to see unravel on stage. I did check reviews after, and they were a solid mix of 4 and 5*.

Siblings - Dreamweaver

The show was effectively a protracted sketch about two scientists in lab coats working on a dream reading helmet. On occasion, they would put it on different audience members’ heads to get readings. The perils of sitting in the front! Some people are a little shy of audience interaction but this was quite passive. When the story required a test subject, they’d place it on their head and play back a pre-recorded hearing. They did inch further down the central aisle over the course of the show, but being at the back, I expected we were well out of their zone. A girl from our table who was sat on the edge of the aisle was chosen, and it felt quite cool to be adjacent to the prop, a colander with christmas lights.

The drinks had been flowing by this point and I had certainly achieved a degree of tipsiness so when I was selected to be the next helmet wearer, I accepted the challenge with glee. It would be funny to sit there whilst they ‘read’ my dreamwaves. Except that’s not what my role was! I’d been selected (and not for the first time!) to jump up on the stage at Soho Theatre and perform! The memory is a bit hazy, but I was part of a 3-member boy band, me in the centre with the helmet on and the two performers flanking me. Firstly there was a dance - not my forté (especially when I don’t know the moves) but somehow I managed to either follow or complement their actions with aplomb. The song was about one boob, and I was able to masterfully combine my two moobs into one. Then came the worrying part - they each performed a solo, and I knew my time was coming. Miraculously, I managed to freestyle a short verse that rhymed and was on theme, to whoops from the audience. My friend did capture it, but without a mic, it’s inaudible from the back.

I honestly surprised myself that with a fuzzy mind I was able to not only not make an absolute prat of myself, but pull off what may eventually be voted THE audience participation of the century. As I returned to my seat after the 3 minute segment, it was shocking how different the room is from both perspectives. On stage you’re drowned with light, elevated, with all eyes on you - those you can see, and dark faces from beyond the glow. At the back of the room, in the dark, facing the stage, you’re an anonymous, passive presence. As I took my seat, my friend asked me if that was planned - it seemed like an endorsement of how well it flowed. Of course it wasn’t, I was totally blindsided by it, and I was just grateful my supposed wit didn’t desert me when challenged. I was hoping the official photographer may have captured my moment, however my friend said she’d managed to video the whole thing. Kudos to her for the quick thinking so my little cameo was preserved for posterity and not lost to the ages.

That part was probably the climax of the show (I could be biased here), and the story concluded. I was still quite bewildered at my segment.

The show overall was entertaining. A bit wacky, but well put together, with a series of laughs and a fun story. Interestingly, whilst I felt Olga’s show was the highlight, my friend enjoyed Siblings so much that she was inspired by their style. Just shows how subjective art is - and how a show can be great but not for the wrong person. It’s all about exploring your niche and finding your audience.

We stayed in the bar after - as there were no further shows on after ours, it was only half full, so more comfort and we must’ve got carried away because soon enough it was time for the last train! As we left the venue, some people on the inside banged on the window and waved ferociously - I waved back to my fans with a warm feeling of recognition and reverence. It will be a long time before I’m recognised for my art again.

I stumbled home by 1am. 7 hours door to door, 2 shows and some drinks. As I lay in bed, I decided to google the act. Turns out they’re actual siblings, but even more surprisingly, they’re the daughters of legendary comic and TV personality Ruby Wax, which explains why she was in the bar after the show. Perhaps one day on a sofa in some TV studio, she’ll be telling the host how she was in the audience for my breakout role.

West Philly shoegaze band They Are Gutting a Body of Water arrived in the UK to tour their well-received album Lotto

After sharing some bands I like with a colleague, he mentioned them, and I liked their sound. Luckily, a gig was imminent, and conveniently timed for me, so I booked it on the strength of a promising first listen. I did something I haven’t done in a long time, but wish I did more often - experience the band live rather than go into the gig with an encyclopaedic knowledge of their back catalogue. It’s a double-edged approach - sometimes elements of their sound and songs reveal themselves beautifully on stage, but you may also lose the impact of a deep cut if you’re not too familiar with their output. I chose wisely in this instance, I think.

Venue

The venue was the ICA - Institute for Contemporary Arts, in the King’s front yard (The Mall). I’d been to the venue once before for the inaugural Four Tet/Squidsoup collaboration in 2016, although the one gig I wish I had been at was the 1984 performance by German industrial group Einstürzende Neubauten who started drilling and jackhammering through the stage mid-performance!

Journey

My first dilemma was getting there. I had driven to the office in Chelsea, and whilst there was a straight bus, I thought it would be nice to drive directly home after. I set my directions to Waterloo, with another map showing walking distance to the ICA so if I passed a convenient spot en route, I could stop there. I normally always travel in by public unless I’m working (and flitting between various sites and offices with an inordinate amount of equipment) and this reinforced why. Eventually I found a spot on a side street beyond the IMAX and a solid 25 minute walk! Fortunately I had enough of a time buffer to pull off my classic ‘Justin’ (just-in-time).

The Stage Set-up

The band were playing in the round, and it was quite intimate - perhaps a couple of hundred people and despite arriving once the venue was packed (sold out), I found a few good spots. I like the concept of the round. More people feel connected, but if you’re committed to one spot, you do lose some effect by only seeing the side or back of one or two members

Gig gripe #4: In a tightly packed space, don’t bring your bag! and certainly don’t wear the damn rucksack throughout the gig!! Cloakrooms exist and for the sake of our comfort, use them!

Gig gripe #1: You’ve got a good spot and are absorbed in the music. Someone squiggles their way in front of you, with a bag, talks, and sways. We don’t need to hear your inane chatter throughout, and pick a spot so that you don’t compromise the view of several people behind you. Fortunately few were talking during this gig, perhaps mesmerised by the music, or with it being a niche band, seasoned gig-goers committed to indulging themselves in the spectacle and saving the chat for the bar after.

The performance

I was digging the band’s sound. To me, it was most reminiscent of Slint’s seminal Spiderland. The lead Douglas Dulgarian would occasionally say a word or two between songs. He referenced his guitar being out of tune and how that is quite on point for shoegaze. In those situations, it’s not uncommon for someone in the crowd to holler back something, although I refrain unless I have something undeniably witty worthy of sharing.

The stage was slightly elevated, and whilst I wasn’t looking over a sea of heads (more of a puddle), I felt like what I was hearing was coming from more than 4 musicians, especially as one guitarist was playing percussion when I was trying to distinguish who was contributing what to the overall noise.

I’m always wowed by the proficiency of such groups. They choose a niche and work away at it, but even with the greatest acclaim from critics and fans alike, their target audience is quite small. So it’s nice to see that they got a level of recognition last night - an attentive crowd, a great setting and a sold-out gig.

The band played for an hour, captivating the crowd throughout. Whilst this is their 4th album, the first was self-released, and this is perhaps the first one they’ve got wider recognition for. They played the George Tavern last summer (first UK gig) and have a few dates across the UK and Europe on this tour, but this certainly would’ve been a highlight for them given the venue’s prestige. Initially there was only one night planned, but as that sold out, another date appeared, which eventually sold out on the day.

Something my mind wanders to inevitably at every show is the total revenue and how much the band get. Touring costs are considerable when abroad, and they only get to tour so often (plus it must be EXHAUSTING mentally and physically to travel that much and play so often!). We’ve reached a point, especially with the effects of Brexit, where it’s no longer economical to tour for some acts in some places, although overall exposure, fan connection and merch may help justify putting a show on.

A cheat I often use is to check setlistfm for a recent gig to second guess the setlist for that night. Some bands slavishly stick to the same set in the same order, or with minor variations. Two schools of thought - a few friends prefer the suspense and surprise. I often prefer to be informed and prepared. It does amaze me that dedicated people recognise and archive the tracks for posterity, and I’m glad there’s one unified database (although the 1600+ cookie partners does annoy me), however I’ve never seen anyone in a crowd note down tracks. A group that gets heavily criticised is those that use their phone too much. Normally I agree, especially those who illuminate their phone torch during the video, having no effect on the professionally lit stage 40 feet away but bathing those around them in light (gig gripe #6), but I do love those who archive live rock by recording and uploading full tracks for us all to enjoy, whether we were there or not.

For part of the gig, I was stood in front of the sound desk, and at one point a kid walked over to them and asked them to turn the singer’s mic up! Whilst it was barely audible, that’s a deliberate effect. This has got to be the live music equivalent of asking a techno DJ to spin an old ABBA classic during their set.

Merch

As the band said their goodbyes, I scurried off to the cloakroom queue, smug with my quick escape to beat the queue. But as I exited, I noticed the new album was on the merch table, and only £20. Just like every release these days, there’s an insufferable number of variants, often limited and overpriced. Six in this album’s case. It’s what killed a 30 year hobby for me. However this version was adequate for my needs so I joined the long and slow-moving queue to grab one. Smugness duly wiped

Post gig

I took the scenic route back to my car, checking the bus options to Chelsea to confirm if I had made the right choice or not. There was a long wait for a bus, so in this instance it was approximately the same. I played the album on the walk to the car, and with it only being 27 minutes long, I breezed through the whole thing before getting back to it (with inevitable detours via the shops etc). The only benefit of driving was that I was committed to sobriety. It meant that my night out came in at under £50 for ticket, cloakroom and the LP, and I didn’t end up with a sore head or full bladder. I saw a few guys return from the bar with two beers in hand - that’s about £13-15 for you and your mate, and you’ll be doing that 2-3 times each at least over the course of the night.

It was the first gig of the year for me. It used to be my most attended type of event, but here we are 1/8th of the year in and I’m just getting off the mark. It’s another 3 months until my next one, but I’ll be keeping myself busy with other bookings.