Tiffany Stevenson ★★★★
The comic is currently appearing on Show Me the Funny on ITV, where her smily disposition is a welcome antidote to some of the sneery critics they have mustered. There’s boyfriend stuff in Cavewoman but Stevenson also delivers a few astute political observations, as well as the occasional unPC gag - such as suggesting Tina Turner's dance moves were inspired by her avoiding Ike’s punches.
A three-piece hailing from Seattle and its environs, The Cave Singers are an authentically hairy proposition. With his tweed hat and red beard, at this Edge festival gig singer Pete Quirk looked like a cross between the late Robin Cook and a stray leprechaun from Finian’s Rainbow, while Derek Fudesco dispensed his lovely, liquid guitar lines from beneath a blur of flying hair.
Don’t be fooled by DeAnne Smith’s gamine appearance of boyish clothing and Bieberesque hairstyle. And don’t be fooled either by the way her act begins with a riff on existential angst - prompted by an Australian waiter saying “No worries” when he took her order - which turns into a song (one of a few in the set) accompanied by a ukulele. Don’t be fooled because you’ll realise there’s a lot of much edgier and darker material that she gets away with because she looks and sounds so sweet.
Jason Cook has masterly audience skills, and he needed them all the night I saw him. A middle-aged teacher (who really should know better), whose refreshment clearly led her to the delusion that she was the person people had paid to see, kept interrupting. Even the engaging and unfailingly polite Geordie comic's patience was wearing thin, but he constantly bested her and got on with the job of making us laugh.
When you watch Glenn Wool, you realise the heights that a talented performer can reach simply by standing on stage and telling stories – not all of them necessarily true - when they are weaved with wonderfully crafted gags and slow-burn pay-offs, with some subtle political humour also in the mix.
When you watch Glenn Wool, you realise the heights that a talented performer can reach simply by standing on stage and telling stories – not all of them necessarily true - when they are weaved with wonderfully crafted gags and slow-burn pay-offs, with some subtle political humour also in the mix.
It has been, we can safely agree, a truly terrible week. Art, culture, call it what you will, is unequal to the task of diagnosing a nation’s ills, let alone curing them. But on a night such as the inaugural Comedy Prom, it comes equipped with healing balm. This evening was maybe not perfect. There were wrinkles, little bits here and there that didn’t quite work. But the Saturday night that the BBC Proms gave over to the business of laughter could not have been more opportune. This is going to sound hokey, but comedy on this occasion brought its audience close to a state of grace.
Something seems to have shifted in Jackie Leven’s life. About six stone, to be precise. At the Edge Festival show the Fife-born folk-blues-soul troubadour was, almost literally, half the man he used to be: the rotund, Rabelaisian figure of old was dramatically slimmed down and sipped water rather than, as at a recent Edinburgh gig, glugged from a bottle of white wine. Perhaps it’s the side effect of a bladder infection he told us (a little too much) about, and which necessitated a “comfort break” halfway through. Or perhaps, at 61, this notoriously hard-living man is finally looking after himself.
Something seems to have shifted in Jackie Leven’s life. About six stone, to be precise. At the Edge Festival show the Fife-born folk-blues-soul troubadour was, almost literally, half the man he used to be: the rotund, Rabelaisian figure of old was dramatically slimmed down and sipped water rather than, as at a recent Edinburgh gig, glugged from a bottle of white wine. Perhaps it’s the side effect of a bladder infection he told us (a little too much) about, and which necessitated a “comfort break” halfway through. Or perhaps, at 61, this notoriously hard-living man is finally looking after himself.
After 12 years in the business, Dana Alexander, an ebullient and instantly likeable presence on stage, is still the only black woman on the Canadian comedy circuit. Not that her ethnicity is Alexander's pre-occupation – it most definitely isn't – but it does play a part in her act.
Imagine that Tim Burton, or some other great modern-day storyteller of your choice, knocks at your door and asks if he can come into your living room for an hour to tell some fantastical stories. You would get some beers in and friends around pronto, right? Well, the Lounge Room Confabulators, a duo from Australia who tell stories in the Burton style of weird and dark, do just that – turn up on your doorstep and then perform in your front room, your garden or your office, wherever you have space for 10 or more people.
Margaret Cho is back, and how. Ten years away from the Fringe, the American-Korean bisexual - “I'm just greedy, I guess” - is a little softer around the edges maybe, but still as funny. With her lefty humour, punctuated by lots of adult content, she is waspish, but definitely not Waspish.