Seann Walsh’s shambling ways still don’t quite hide his success
SEANN Walsh is moving onwards and upwards. Literally. Thanks to mobile, hands-free technology, we’re chatting even as the Brightonian comedian is being instructed not to carry his television set upstairs.
“I’ve had to move because my flat is covered in mould and I was finding it hard to breathe,” the 27-year-old wheezes as he’s banished to the removal van. His latest show, the Edinburgh Comedy Award-nominated T he Lie-In King “was meant to be about this,” he sighs, “trying to sort my life out and then making the mistake of getting a basement flat and my life getting worse, not better.”
T he Lie-In King and is considering reining in his drinking: “I’m massive now. I’m going to be this massive, fat, hairy, observational comic.”
The role of feckless bedsit philosopher Eggman in Big Bad
was perfect for him. And though wary of being pigeonholed, Walsh appreciates audiences having “a very clear idea of me”. He enjoyed the Fringe this year, because “for the last couple of Edinburghs, I’ve felt like I’ve got a bit lost with who I was as a comedian. Now I’m back where I started and that’s a good thing.” lSeann Walsh headlines the Punchline comedy nights at Perth Concert Hall tomorrow and The Picture House in Edinburgh on Saturday. www. seannwalsh.com SCIENTIFIC rationalism, secular values, freedom from superstition and unreason. West European nations often present themselves as the guardians of these values, in a world riven by religious fundamentalism; but in truth, those ideas are a couple of centuries old at best, and held little sway in much of our own society, within living memory.
Miss Margaret Brodie, the sole character in Douglas Maxwell’s stunning two-hour monologue, is a woman of 60 whose life has spanned that entire cycle, from a childhood dominated by an abusive but outwardly pious Catholic father, through a middle life in which – as a teacher in London – she seemed to have escaped into sexual freedom, and a more rational world. At the end of her career, though, she sees those enlightened values begin to fail, as her politically correct head invites a “community leader” into the school to exorcise a mute Somali girl said to be possessed; and the terrible rage this incident arouses in Miss Brodie, along with her strange affinity with the child, provokes a shocking and devastating crisis.
It’s rare to see a play tangle so directly with the grimmest forces unleashed by our attempts to live in a multicultural society, while we still carry so much damage inflicted by our own cultures. And in Philip Howard’s superbly simple Dundee rep production – on tour to community centres – Maxwell’s challenging text finds an actress equal to its demands in the wonderful Ann Louise ross, who gives a performance full of the sexiness, rebellion, pride and rage of the woman at the heart of this story; a woman who believed some progress had been made in her lifetime, and cannot bear to see the demons of her childhood returning, to damage another generation. arguably echoed, to immense success, by Elvis Costello. That vital spark has never died, however, and there was a wonderfully joyful, reflective tone to this show, from the choppy reggae rhythm of Howlin’ Wind forth.
The country-flavoured Black Honey, Parker reported, has been restored to their set for the first time since 1976. A Lie Gets Halfway ‘round the World showed they could do rocketfuelled too, though it was soulful Hammond organ-licked new song Long Emotional Ride which produced optimum pace.
Local Girls was a fine heartland rocker of Tom Pettyesque quality. Before that, the reaction to Watch the Moon Come Down had brought a note of humble appreciation from Parker which said it all. “To watch people singing along after all these years,” he responded sincerely, “means a lot.”