A CROWD WORK COMEDY SHOW THAT ENDS WITH A WEDDING?! YOU DECIDE WHO GETS MARRIED!
Solange – Don't Touch My Hair
Jolene – Hair Song
Beck – Devil's Haircut
LCD Soundsystem – Emotional Haircut
Mitzi Gaynor - I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair
Japandroids - Wet Hair
Aidan Moffat & RM Hubbert - Fringe
Alice Faye - Haircutter
Rachel Sweet – Hairspray
The 5th Dimension – Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In
Pavement – Cut Your Hair
The Ophelias – Black Ribbon
WILLOW – Whip My Hair
Girlpool – Cut Your Bangs
America – Sister Golden Hair
Honeyglaze – Female Lead
Listen to this playlist on Spotify — search for 'The Skinny Office Playlist' or scan the below code
hello@theskinny.co.uk
Skinny is Scotland's largest independent entertainment & listings magazine, and offers a wide range of advertising packages and affordable ways to promote your business. Get in touch to find out more. E: sales@theskinny.co.uk All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part without the explicit permission of the publisher. The views and opinions expressed within this publication do not necessarily represent the views
Meet the team
Championing creativity in Scotland
We asked: Which Edinburgh resident would you cancel and why?
Senior Editorial
Rosamund West
Editor-in-Chief
"I've been here 25 years so my shitlist is lengthy. If you think you might be on it, you probably are."
Commissioning Editors
Cammy Gallagher Clubs Editor
"Why Not? nightclub and every bouncer that has ever worked there - you will never tell me cords are PJs again."
Business
Laurie Presswood General Manager
"Burke and Hare. You know what you did."
Sales
George Sully Sales and Brand Strategist
"Whichever of my neighbours has a quiet but incessant alarm that goes off at random times during the day and night."
Peter Simpson Deputy Editor, Food & Drink Editor
"Greyfriars Bobby spent a lot of time hanging around in graveyards for a dog with nothing to hide."
Eilidh Akilade Intersections Editor
"Bagpipes, you've got to go."
Anahit Behrooz Events Editor, Books Editor
"If Jamie Dunn still lived in Edinburgh, Jamie Dunn. Just to see what would happen."
Rachel Ashenden Art Editor
"I'm going to nominate myself because I'm a) an introvert, b) tired, and c) ready for summer hibernation."
Jamie Dunn Film Editor, Online Journalist
"Does anyone really get cancelled? Don’t their non-right-wing pals just stop talking to them and then they get to vent about it in their new column in the Daily Mail?"
Polly Glynn Comedy Editor
"Greyfriars' Bobby – just let the wee dug be at peace."
Tallah Brash Music Editor
"All credit to my partner for this: Not a resident, but for what John Cooper did to the Dick, he better not show his face around here ever again!"
Rho Chung Theatre Editor
"Whoever is responsible for the silent discos."
Production
Dalila D'Amico Art Director, Production Manager
"Arthur’s Seat. You’re not a seat. You’re a big, lying hill. I’ve climbed you hungover, in jeans, and for what? Windburn and existential dread."
Sandy Park Commercial Director
"Unable to quickly come up with an answer of my own (writing this well after deadline), I would like to second the cancelling of the silent disco starters."
Phoebe Willison Designer
"The Duke (of)."
Ellie Robertson Editorial Assistant
"Morningside Maisie is a member of the bourgeoisie. Have you seen those property values?"
Ema Smekalova Media Sales Executive
"As an Edinburgh resident who has kind of been cancelled before, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even the people that walk slowly on North Bridge. Unless?"
Emilie Roberts Media Sales Executive
"I'd cancel whoever it was that stole the Elm Row pigeons. GIVE THEM BACK."
Billie Estrine Editorial Intern
"These Edinburgh seagulls get wayyy too close to me. I know they were here first, but I'm gonna have to kick at least one of them out of town."
Editorial
Words: Rosamund West
This month is our busiest issue yet so in inverse logic I’m going to attempt to summarise it all in my shortest editorial ever. It’s the Edinburgh festivals! Look at all this stuff we recommend! We also are running our now-annual awards, The Besties, in the middle of it so keep an eye out for them!
In Theatre, we introduce Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine, platforming Palestinian artists in Portobello Town Hall. We meet playwright Khalid Abdalla, ponder contemporary masculinity, look forward to some shows in a shed and consider the disappearance of the body in theatre, aka Rho complains about AI.
Comedy embraces the promise of a sober Fringe, talking to some of the comedians who’ve managed to keep it together and avoid the lure of the 5am licence for a sustained period of time. We ponder the rise of performance art comedy as the alternative alternative genre, share some comedians’ letters and talk to alt comedy producers Liebenspiel.
Art considers social erasure and diasporic expression in the work of Aqsa Arif, and we talk to Olivia Priya Foster about queer rurality before sharing the writing of some of the Edinburgh Art Festival emerging critics we’ve been working with this year. Books meets Simone Seales and Mele Broomes, and discusses friendship and organising with Laura C. Forster and Joel White.
Music learns about physics from Lomond Campbell as he explains his new cosmic ray-reading performance MŮO, talks Glastonbury with Billy Nomates and stretches the concept of ‘Edinburgh festivals’ to their very limits with a celebration of East Lothian’s Fringe by the Sea. Film looks forward to EIFF with a survey of the queer cinema competing for this year’s Sean Connery Prize and talks Zodiac Killer Project with Charlie Shackleton.
Beyond the Edinburgh festivals, we’re excited about Govanhill International Festival and Bemz's M4 festival, returning to Glasgow for a second year. We close with The Skinny on... Molly McGuinness; she hates Simon Pe apparently. There’s loads more in here, you’ll have to read it to find out.
August! HWFG!
Irina Selaru is a Romanian freelance digital illustrator based in London, UK. She enjoys telling stories through each illustration, and her playful, bold and colourful style is often inspired by everyday life.
IG: @irina.selaru
Cover Artist
Love Bites: Dinner With Strangers
This month’s columnist reflects on sharing a meal with future friends
Words: Clare Roberts
Iarrived second (and nervous), scanning the restaurant until I spotted a smiling man already at the table. Soon we were four, brought together by an app and about to have dinner as strangers. Sitting in the window, I wondered if anyone passing by would recognise our awkward introductions and wonder, “Why can’t this woman find friends?”
I used to think friendship just happened. Now, in my early thirties, I’m well accustomed to the ever-turning merry-go-round of friends moving to new cities for work or to the suburbs for gardens and catchment areas. Meanwhile, my husband and I – remote workers, renters, childless by choice – remain where these friends once were. To them, we are the last flicker of their youth in the city; and we light a candle to their calendars booked six months in advance. As much as I love my friends, I’m realising I can’t rely on proximity, gained through an office job or shared housing, to build my social life anymore.
As our food came, I took a deep breath, told myself I’d come this far, and asked the waitress for a bib (ever the messy eater). We chuckled about this in playful banter, but soon everyone was wearing one. There we were, a table of four adults, eating in bibs and answering question prompts off our phones, like a first date – because it sort of was. We had a shared, unspoken understanding that, although selfconscious, we were all there to try.
The laughter came easily, the vibe generous and curious. There were no soulmate moments; just the warmth of a wholesome evening spent in good company with swapped numbers. Making friends as an adult is awkward, brave, yet hopeful. I might need a few more dinner dates before I find ‘the ones’. But I’m willing to keep saying yes and showing up until I do.
Heads Up
Print Expo 2525
Out of the Blue Drill Hall, Edinburgh, 8-23 Aug
Celebrating ten whole years of Out of the Blueprint, Edinburgh’s dedicated risoprint studio and social enterprise, the folks at Out of the Blue Drill Hall are putting on an exhibition showcasing work by their four latest resident artists – Matilda Bull, Maddie Lennon, Kerry Simms and Kamal Malhotra – as well as work from the studio’s past 25 residencies.
Small Town Boys
With approximately 12 billion festivals taking place across the country, we bring you another bumper edition of Heads Up, with recommendations from the Fringe, all the other festivals, and gigs, exhibitions and more besides
Compiled by Anahit Behrooz
ZOO Southside, Edinburgh, 1-17 Aug (not 4, 11), 7:15pm
Taking its title and inspiration from Bronski Beat’s classic song of the same name, Small Town Boys follows a young boy as he moves to the big city and finds joy and belonging within the queer community, against the backdrop of a sudden health crisis and immense governmental neglect, offering an exhilarating celebration of queerness and spaces of belonging.
Sub Club Southside Weekender
Queen’s Park Arena Bandstand, Glasgow, 2-3 Aug
There’s a real mix of international and homegrown talent at Sub Club Southside Weekender, taking place at the Queen’s Park Bandstand. Find Detroit and Chicago legends Moodyman and Ron Trent playing alongside DJ Minx, Rebecca Vasmant, and Moxie as well as Sub Club’s four Subculture residents Harri & Domenic, Telford and Stevie Cox.
Edinburgh Psych Fest
Various venues, Edinburgh, 31 Aug, 12pm
So You Think You’re Funny? Various venues, Edinburgh, 1321 Aug (not 19), various times
EHFM Festival Party
Sneaky Pete’s, Edinburgh, 2 Aug, 11pm
EHFM are throwing their annual Fringe party at Sneaky’s to kick off the festive month, with a star-studded lineup of the community radio station’s best and brightest DJs. Find al gu, Saint Sunday, Otis Worming, Aoibhil, BELLAROSA and Ria spinning everything from electro and house to dub and R‘n’B.
Edinburgh International Film Festival
Various venues, Edinburgh, 14-20 Aug Edinburgh International Film Festival is back, playing in venues such as the Cameo, Vue and the newly reopened Filmhouse. It kicks off with opening film Sorry, Baby, a subversive comedy-drama about the aftermath of a sexual assault, and continues with the festival’s acclaimed horror strand Midnight Madness, and talks from the likes of Ken Loach (whose The Wind That Shakes the Barley is screening in 35mm), Andrea Arnold and Nia Da Costa.
Ninewells Hospital: Care, Community and Innovation
V&A Dundee, Dundee, until 14 Sep
The relationship between medical and design innovation takes centre stage at this fascinating exhibition, exploring 50 years of history at Dundee’s Ninewells Hospital and advancements in technology and design – from IVF and keyhole surgery to the architecture of the building itself – that showcase the city as a locus of medical invention and articulate the importance of nationalised
Bikini Body (Isabella Strange + Ceefax)
The Hug and Pint, Glasgow, 15 Aug, 7:30pm
The Beautiful Future Is Coming Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, 29 Jul-24 Aug (not 30, 31, 1, 4, 11, 18), various times
Photo: Tim Topple
Photo: Ellie Kurtz
Photo: Steve Ullathorne
Photo: Rosie Sco
Photo: courtesy of artist
Photo: @stuarttweediemedia
Image: courtesy of EIFF
Photo: Maria Falconer
Photo: Alex Coupar, courtesy of University of Dundee Museums, Tayside Medical History Museum
Nadine Shah for Edinburgh Psych Fest
So You Think You're Funny? Winner Samira Banks Bikini Body
The Beautiful Future Is Coming
Ninewells Hospital Concourse January 1974
Small Town Boys Rebecca Vasmant for Sub Club Southside Weekender
Sorry Baby
Al Gu for EHFM
Matilda Bull for Out of the Blue Print Expo 2025
Faustus in Africa!
Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, 20-23 Aug, 7:30pm
By the folks who brought you the puppet from War Horse comes a technically daring and politically ambitious take on Christopher Marlowe’s classic play, in which a man sells his soul to the devil. In Faustus in Africa!, this pursuit of power is set against the catastrophic legacies of colonialism and climate emergency, examining how humanity’s capacity for moral compromise has shifted and entrenched.
Thanyia Moore: August
Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 11), 5:40pm
Three years ago, Thanyia Moore was set to do her debut comedy show at the Edinburgh Fringe when she suffered a miscarriage. She has since transformed the events of that summer into a new comedy hour, exploring ideas of mental and bodily fortitude, the joys of the NHS, and the capacity of comedy to tell difficult stories.
Chappell Roan
Royal Highland Showgrounds, Edinburgh, 26-27 Aug, 4pm
If you made it through last summer without hearing Hot to Go! or Good Luck, Babe belted at you from a radio station, a club, or a ga le of baby queers, well, you barely lived. But never fear, their author Chappell Roan is headed to Edinburgh for two nights, bringing her extremely acclaimed and extremely catchy brand of pop music to the edge of the city.
Edinburgh International Book Festival
Edinburgh Futures Institute, Edinburgh, 9-24 Aug
Heir of the Cursed album launch
Mackintosh Queen's Cross, Glasgow, 30 Aug, 7pm
Govanhill International Festival and Carnival
Various venues, Glasgow, 1-10 Aug
Govanhill International Festival and Carnival is organised by the Govanhill Baths Community Trust, this year taking place as the Baths undergo renovation to become a Wellbeing Centre shaped by two decades of community action, drawing connections between ideas of care and creativity. There’s a parade and carnival, a street music festival, a book festival, a Palestine arts strand and even more to be discovered.
Untapped Award 2025
Underbelly Cowgate, Edinburgh, 31 Jul-24 Aug, various times
Over the last few years, Underbelly has hosted the winners of the Untapped Award, a small programme of theatre companies presenting ambitious and experimental work at the Fringe. Often some of the best shows of the month, this year’s slate looks as promising as ever: Alpaqa’s subversive musical JEEZUS!, NONSTOP’s black comedy take on the climate crisis Pigs Fly Easy Ryan, and Emergency Chorus’s esoteric choreography piece Ways of Knowing
Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine
Portobello Town Hall, Edinburgh, 12-15 Aug
A Fringe within the Fringe – Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine is a mini festival celebrating Palestinian arts and culture, held at Portobello Town Hall. There’s some incredible theatre – including Hassan Abdulrazzak’s And Here I Am set against the First and Second Intifada – music – including a DJ set by Bruno Cruz and a performance by Gazan oud player Reem Anbar – puppetry, dance workshops and more.
Wide Days Presents: Made in Scotland Gigs
Sneaky Pete's and La Belle Angele, Edinburgh, 15 Aug, 6pm
Maz and the Phantasms For Govanhill International Festival
Faustus in Africa!
JEEZUS
Thanyia Moore
And Here Am for Palestine at the Fringe
Chappell Roan
Oliver Coates + Joanne Robertson
The Old Hairdresser's, Glasgow, 22 Aug, 7:30pm
Best known perhaps for his scores to Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun and Steve McQueen’s Occupied City, Glasgow-based composer Oliver Coates released his latest album Throb, shiver, arrow of time last year, an experimental, elegiac exploration of temporalities.
He’s playing a double headline show alongside Joanne Robertson, a painter and musician whose work has a ephemeral, improvisational quality.
Edinburgh Art Festival
Various venues, Edinburgh, 7-24 Aug
The UK’s largest annual festival of visual art, Edinburgh Art Festival brings in exhibitions and performances from across the city’s galleries, big and small. There’s Wael Shawky’s exhibition at Talbot Rice Gallery, part of which showed at the 2024 Venice Biennale, a special commission from acclaimed artist Linder Sterling and – new this year – an EAF Pavilion hosted by arts charity Outer Spaces, spotlighting work by emerging artists in Edinburgh.
Pussy Riot: Riot Days
Summerhall, Edinburgh, 12-23 Aug (not 18), 9:30pm
Following their appearance at the Fringe seven years ago, iconic Russian protest art collective Pussy Riot returns to Summerhall with a subversive, genre-bending work of performance merging punk, electronica, theatre, documentary footage and protest to speak to urgent questions regarding queer rights, civic protest and freedom of speech in times of political crisis.
Previewing at Tramway before heading to the Edinburgh Fringe, Kathryn Gordon’s A Journey of Flight is inspired by the migratory journeys of birds in Shetland, exploring ideas of departure and arrival. Bringing together choreography, immersive staging, projecting visuals and live music by Jenny Sturgeon, this piece is an ode to patterns of movement and change.
Here & Now Showcase
Various venues, Edinburgh, 18-24 Aug Every year, the Here & Now Showcase brings up some of the best of performance and theatre from down south (England). This year is another strong offering, with gorgeous choreography piece IV by Serafine1369 exploring cycles of time, divination and decomposition, and Khalid Abdalla’s Nowhere positioning acts of individual revolution against seismic historic events.
Book Fringe
Various venues, Edinburgh, 3-26 Aug
The ALT edition of the Book Fringe returns, hosted by Argonaut Books, Lighthouse Bookshop and Typewronger Books (God bless an acrostic). The full programme has yet to be announced but is usually split between fiction (Argonaut), non-fiction (Lighthouse) and poetry (Typewronger) – sneak peeks include events with Paula Akpan, Dayna Ash & Yasmine Rifaii.
Wael Shawky, Cabaret Crusades III: The Secrets of Karbalaa
Pussy Riot
Mahmoud Muna for Book Fringe
IV by Serafine1369 presented as part of the Here & Now Showcase
Oliver Coates
M4 Festival
SWG3, Glasgow, 30 Aug, 3pm
After a runaway success last year, M4 Festival returns for its second edition, pulling the Scottish summer stubbornly until the end of August. The festival is a gorgeous celebration of genre-defying music, with a lineup of ten live acts and DJs curated by Bemz from Scotland and abroad – including Junglehussi, leahgte, and LuckyBabe – spanning hip-hop, R'n'B, afrobeat, experimental soul and more.
Taproom Sessions
Bellfield Brewery, Edinburgh, 3-24 Aug, 3pm
A new grassroots music festival launched as a collaboration between Hidden Door and Bellfield Brewery, Taproom Sessions offers a welcome break away from the hubbub of the Fringe while still offering a snapshot of the Scottish creative landscape, including music and spoken word by Iona Lee, Esther Swift and Gaze is Ghost.
A sculpture built from scrap metal and debris from houses and cars destroyed during the Second Intifada in 2003, the Horse of Jenin stood in Occupied Palestine for two decades before being dismantled by the IDF. Comedian and actor Alaa Shehada’s play asks what happened to the horse, blending comedy, storytelling and mask work to interrogate ideas of loss, memory and hope.
Figures in Extinction
Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, 22-24 Aug, various times
Jupiter Rising x EAF25
Jupiter Artland, Edinburgh, 16 Aug, 6pm
PITCH Scotland 2025
Various venues, Glasgow, 27-29 Aug
An international conference dedicated to hip-hop and underground music, PITCH has been touring around the country with a showcase of incredible acts from Scotland and beyond. They’re pitching up (haha) in Glasgow this month, featuring panel discussions, performances, DJ sets and more by the likes of Conscious Route, Intibint and Wends.
Score
Assembly @ Dance Base, Edinburgh, 12-24 Aug (not 18), 9:40pm AI has taken over both the internet and the Fringe programme this year, and while some of it can be a little hokey, Isaiah Wilson’s dance piece Score makes full use of the philosophical and ethical conundrums that the technology presents. A group of dancers are involuntarily operated using electronic muscle simulation, their choreography written using a computational code in a fascinating exploration of agency.
Shedinburgh
The Wee Red Bar, Edinburgh, 1-24 Aug
New Fringe venue Shedinburgh are taking over The Wee Red Bar in August with an impressive programme of shows comprised of Shed Shows (stripped back versions of past Fringe hits), Shed Originals (workin-progress scripts from rising star writers and theatremakers), Shedx Talks (free-to-attend panels), and late-night live music events. Find the likes of Haley McGee’s Age Is a Feeling, Ivo Graham’s Balloons, and Sh!t Theatre: Or What’s Left Of Us
Femmergy Late Night Stage. Jupiter Rising x EAF 2024
Ayo Adenekan
Ping Pong
Alaa Shehada in The Horse of Jenin Troupe Courage
Haley McGee, Age is a Feeling for Shedinburgh
Haley McGee, Age is a Feeling for Shedinburgh
Conscious Route
LuckyBabe for M4 Festival
Score
Iona Lee for Taproom Sessions
CHRIS MCCAUSLAND adam kay STEWART LEE rory bremner
Bridget christie flying pigs connor burns daniel sloss fred macaulay ma richardson sophie duker kieran hodgson ignacio lopez stuart mitchell angela barnes deirdre o’ kane elf lyons lou conran mark watson and many more!
What's On
Music
It’s a big festival month, and kicking things off in Newport-on-Tay is the Lughnasadh Music & Art Festival (2 Aug). Taking place on the grounds of the Forgan Arts Centre, the all-dayer features a stacked lineup with Kathryn Joseph, corto.alto, Sacred Paws, Free Love and Becky Sikasa all set to play. The following Saturday in Arbroath, Hospitalfield’s Pollinate Festival (9 Aug) returns with a really varied and interesting music programme, featuring Glasgow-based Belgian saxophonist, electronic musician and audiovisual artist Sonia Killmann, Turkish-born, Glasgow-based experimental artist Isik Kural and award-winning smallpipes player Brìghde Chaimbeul.
In Glasgow, the Mogwai-curated Big City Festival (16 Aug) returns to Queen’s Park Recreational Ground with Lankum, Gruff Rhys, Snapped Ankles, Rev Magnetic and more, while at the end of the month, PITCH, Scotland’s international conference of hip-hop and underground culture returns from 27 to 29 August. On 30 August, Ayrshire rapper Bemz’s M4 Festival returns for its second year, where the likes of Bellarosa, FER4Z, LAMAYA, Tayoh, Junglehussi, ISO YSO and more will take over SWG3’s Warehouse from 3pm. In North Berwick, Fringe by the Sea returns, with a bumper programme featuring everyone from Air (2 Aug) and Ezra Collective (9 Aug), via local talent like Hamish Hawk and Cloth (8 Aug), Pictish Trail (9 Aug), MALKA and Carla J. Easton (10 Aug); Easton’s documentary Since Yesterday also gets a screening by the seaside on the same day. In the city, Lomond Campbell is musician turned mad scientist in MŮO at The French Institute (1-25 Aug), as he turns cosmic rays into music (more about that on p81), while the Made In Scotland programme also brings Waxen Figures by Muto Major to Summerhall (1-11 Aug), Aud the Deep Minded by Joanna Nicholson to The Space Triplex (13-17 Aug) and Windblown by Karine Polwart to The Queen’s Hall (9-13 Aug). Or discover the next wave of new Scottish contemporary talent with Made In Scotland Gigs presented by Wide Days as they take over Sneaky Pete’s and La Belle Angele (15 Aug) with Man of Moon, Pippa Blundell, KuleeAngee, Bottle Rockets, The Ayoub Sisters and more.
While the Edinburgh International Festival’s contemporary programming is somewhat lacking this year, their Up Late programme features Alabaster DePlume (8 Aug), Kathryn Joseph (9 Aug) and Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith (16 Aug). At Leith Depot, seek out Siobhan Wilson’s Live Music and Chats series (12-17 Aug), featuring Cloth, Haiver, Broken Chanter and more. Big Nights at La Belle brings some big names to the city centre as Jurassic 5’s Chali 2na (11 Aug), LA’s Thumpasaurus (18 Aug), and Kate Stables’ This Is the Kit (26 Aug) are all set to light up La Belle Angele’s stage, while if you want to go even bi er, do what you can to nab tickets for Sam Fender (22 Aug) or Chappell Roan (26 & 27 Aug) at the Royal Highland Showgrounds. On 31 August, multi-venue all-dayer Edinburgh Psych Fest returns to the capital with Nadine Shah, Getdown Services, Du Blonde, Anna Erhard and more on the bill.
Back in Glasgow, King Tut’s Summer Nights and The Hug & Pint’s Endless Summer runs both continue; highlights include PVC (7 Aug) and Mercy Girl at King Tut’s (17 Aug) and Pistol Daisys (6 Aug) and Bikini Body and Isabella Strange at The Hug (15 Aug). On 8 August, Martha May & The Mondays celebrate the launch of their Zeroes & Villains EP launch at Nice N Sleazy, while on the 9th, if you can’t get through to Edinburgh, Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine lands at The Glad Cafe for one night only for a celebration of Palestinian culture, art and music. On the 13th, Franz Ferdinand have
Photo: Tim Saccenti
Photo: Kirstin
McCarlie
Photo: James Pearson Howes
Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith
Isik Kural
corto.alto
a massive hometown show in SWG3’s Galvanizer’s Yard, while at the end of the month the Mackintosh Church hosts the posthumous album launch for the much-missed Beldina Odenyo, aka Heir of the Cursed. On what would have been her 35th birthday (30 Aug), a band made up of Inge Thomson, Andrew Wasylyk, Sarah Hayes, Susan Bear, Liam Chapman and Joe Rattray will be joined by guest vocalists like Kathryn Joseph, Rick Redbeard, Callum Easter, Sacred Paws and Djana Gabrielle for a reflective night of celebration. [Tallah Brash]
Film
We preview Edinburgh Film Festival (14-20 Aug) on pages 84 to 88, but it’s not the only UK festival of note this summer. Bristol has just hosted the wonderful Cinema Rediscovered, which brings old films, many of them rare or underseen, back to the big screen, and some highlights are going on tour. Both Filmhouse and GFT will be hosting Against the Grain: 1980s British Cinema, a season of creative British films that emerged under the nose of Thatcher’s hostile-to-the-arts government. Think Stephen Frears’ queer romance My Beautiful Laundrette, Neil Jordan’s poetic debut Angel and the little-seen Ping Pong, a caper set in and around London’s Chinatown from British-Chinese director Po-Chih Leong. That trio, plus others, screens at both cinemas; see websites for dates and the full programme.
GFT will also host other gems from Cinema Rediscovered in August, including newly restored prints of masterpieces like Jean-Jacques Beineix’s Diva (8 & 10 Aug) and Charles Burnett’s Killer of Sheep (9 & 11 Aug) as well as three titles that are new to me and sound fantastic: Kazakhstani epic The Fall of Otrar (17 Aug), biting satire Chameleon Street (18 Aug) and In Fading Light, a drama set within the Northeast of England’s declining fishing industry (24 Aug).
Talking of cinema from the 1980s in defiance of Thatcher, be sure to catch a season of the Comic Strip presents… films at the Fringe (2-10 Aug, Just the Tonic). For those unfamiliar, Comic Strip were a collective of some of the bi est names in the UK’s 80s alternative comedy scene (think Ade Edmondson, Rik Mayall, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders) and they made a tonne of hilarious TV films together, many of which were written and directed by Peter Richardson, who’ll be presenting some at the Fringe alongside guests like Alexei Sayle and Keith Allen. Classics Supergrass and The Strike are already confirmed, with more to be announced.
Cameo in Edinburgh continues its year-long David Lynch tribute with a programme of Lynch shorts (2 Aug), a day-long screening of Twin Peaks: Season One (9 Aug) and a rare outing for that TV show’s heartbreaking cinematic prequel, Fire Walk with Me (23 Aug). And this month’s Lynchspiration is Blake Edwards’ 1962 noir Experiment in Terror (16 Aug), which was reportedly a big influence on the uncanny atmosphere of Twin Peaks
We also recommend seeking out Dag Johan Haugerud’s Oslo Stories Trilogy. Not to be confused with Joachim Trier’s loose Oslo Trilogy, Haugerud’s trio of films – titled Dreams, Love and Sex – are relationship dramas told from different perspectives. They’re designed to be watched in any order and work as standalone pieces, but together they promise a rich study in intimacy and desire. Dreams is released 1 Aug, Love on 15 Aug and Sex on 22 Aug. [Jamie Dunn]
Clubs
Kick off your Edinburgh Fringe with a Slam – quite literally – as the Pulse Festival Opening Party brings the Glasgow techno boomers behind Soma Records to The Mash House. Feeling friskier? Head to Hot Mess: Queer Dance Party for bumping house and high-NRG classics courtesy of Simonotron Meanwhile in Glasgow, Spirit x Libra Esterlina take over Sub Club with deep dub and Caribbean rhythms from Tikiman, Rozaly, and more (1 Aug).
On Saturday 2 August, Samedia Shebeen turns 15 – join Chris Astrojazz and the global music crew at The Mash House to celebrate Edinburgh’s longest running club night in style. Alternatively, head to Coatbridge’s Brickworx Bar for high-energy Barmulloch bounce from Gary MCf and DJ Zitkus at I Am a Raver (2 Aug).
On Thursday 7 August, common room returns to The Flying Duck from 9pm with Deer Park, mock uncle, Carnac, and Memory Cairn – expect everything from downtempo to rap.
Dreams
Diva
Photo: Cecilie Semec
Image: Park Circus and Channel 4
Ping Pong
Photo: @recompo.se_
Samedia Shebeen
On Saturday 9 August, Good Clean Fun Summer Festival lands in Lochwinnoch with feel-good disco, house, and bagels in abundance – all in an alcohol and drug-free setting.
Calling Glasgow Grime heads, LVLZ Radio turns ten on Friday 15 August at The Poetry Club with Birmingham’s finest SOX 0121, alongside Rapture 4D, Zolf, and others. Also marking a decade of dancefloor influence, Headset hosts a must-see anniversary showcase inside Sub Club (15 Aug).
Catch leftfield dance visionary Vladimir Ivkovic at Glasgow’s La Cheetah for Wrong Party! on Saturday 16 August, before he heads to Edinburgh’s Sneaky Pete’s for a five-hour NSA x Free Time set on Sunday 17 August.
From Friday 29 to Sunday 30 August, the Milngavie Street Party 2025 takes over the town centre with a stacked lineup including Fabio & Grooverider, Corrie’s Craig Charles, and even corto.alto (29-31 Aug).
On Saturday 30 August, Bemz spotlights Scotland’s hip-hop scene via Glasgow’s SWG3 at M4 Festival with sets from leahgte, ISO YSO, Bella Rossa, and many more. [Cammy Gallagher]
Art
Edinburgh Art Festival (7-24 Aug) returns for its 21st edition, reaffirming its commitment to community, queer and feminist expression, and a good party. As usual, EAF have curated a daring series of performances, talks, drop-in exhibitions and nights-out, complimenting a plethora of exhibitions on display at partner galleries across the capital.
We begin with a new performance by feminist-punk artist Linder Sterling at the Royal Botantic Garden Edinburgh on 7 August. A kind of glamour about me is an improvised, collaborative performance that coincides with Linder’s solo exhibition at Inverleith House. This (sold out) ticketed, evening performance is followed by the EAF25 Launch Party at the Grange Club, featuring music by feminist nightlife collective Femmergy.
In the EAF Pavillion (Leith Street), Trans Masc Studies: Memory Is A Museum presents an emerging, interactive archive devoted to trans masculine narratives throughout EAF. On 10 August, Ellis Jackson Kroese, the artist behind Memory Is a Museum, leads a talk focused on the future of trans masc archiving. Adam Kashmiry also presents an experimental performance. Tickets available on a sliding scale.
who will be remembered here, a contemplative film that focuses on four queer writers’ connection with Scotland through performance, screens every 45 minutes in the EAF Pavillion. At the invitation of Lewis Hetherington and CJ Mahony, writers Robert Softley Gale, Harry Josephine Giles, Robbie MacLeòid and Bea Webster responded to sites that span Scotland’s human history. In Hetherington’s words, the film “is a cry against the erasure of cultures, languages and identities which has defined our past, and threaten to define our futures.”
It’s Leith Day on 9 August, which offers a free half-day itinerary of exhibitions towards the north of the city. Stops include SEEDLINGS: DIASPORIC hosted by the Travelling Gallery (a contemporary art gallery in a bus), and FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS at Sett Studios.
On 16 August, JUPITER RISING X EAF25 is set to be another whirlwind night of music, poetry and performance. Hosted at sculpture park Jupiter Artland, the line-up includes a solo set by TAAHLIAH, performance by Florence Peake and a late-night stage curated by Ponyboy. Tickets include an opportunity to see exhibitions Guy Oliver: Millennial Prayer and Jonathan Baldock: WYRD.
Highlights at partner galleries include Aqsa Arif: Raindrops of Rani at Edinburgh Printmakers. The Scottish-Pakistani artist subverts the famous Sony Bravia ‘Paint’ advert that was filmed at her childhood council flat in Glasgow. Drawing on Punjabi folklore and Bollywood, Aqsa offers a fantastical critique of a regeneration project that saw the displacement of migrants and working-class communities from their homes. Open throughout EAF – drop in for free.
In the city centre, Siân Davey exhibits The Garden, a photographic documentation of the transformation of her and her son’s wildflower sanctuary. At Stills Centre for Photography, their garden is posed as a ‘referential offering to humanity’, one that welcomes a spectrum of emotions – from heartache to euphoria.
At National Museum of Scotland, the Scottish-Nigerian artist and printmaker Nkem Okwechime presents Okolo. Featuring hand-printed
Photo: Talha Imam
Image: courtesy of Sett Studios
Maria Wrang-Rasmussen, Get in Loser, we're going to Sett Studios
Aqsa Ari, Raindrops of Rani
Image: courtesy of Intercultural Youth Scotland
ISO YSO
Image: courtesy of SWG3
LuckyBabe for M4 Festival
wallpaper and ceramic tiles, the installation is informed by the intersection of European and West African cultural influences, as well as Nkem’s research with the museum’s African collection. Co-created with community groups, Nkem Okwechime: Okolo opens 13 August and closes on the 22nd.
Queer movement artist Lewis Walker closes EAF25 with Bornsick, on 23 August. Through gymnastics and dance, the performance interrogates the tension between conformity and freedom within a system that shapes our identities. The following afternoon, the festival hosts a Closing Conversation that queries ‘Where Do We Stand?’ Promising communal conversation, film screenings and food, participants will be guided to reflect on cultural memory to come together in times of crisis.
Beyond Edinburgh, Thread Memory: Embroidery from Palestine continues in Dundee, a twinned city with Nablus, Palestine. The free exhibition focuses on the ancient practice of tatreez, a form of hand-embroidery with socio-political depth, with each region of Palestine holding its own distinct style. Drawing on material from Dundee collections and Palestinian archives, Thread Memory at V&A Dundee centres the Nabulsi dress, works by contemporary artists who engage in tatreez, in addition to interviewers with Palestinian makers. Continues until spring 2026.
Over in Glasgow, Sarah Rose questions ‘What might a feminist energy system look like?’ through kinetic sculpture. Her Tramway exhibition, Torpor, finds inspiration in the phenomenon of summer torpor – a state of decreased activity in animals to conserve energy. The artist uses glass, heat and light to transform materials and explore themes of power, connection and environmental instability. Closes on 7 September. [Rachel Ashenden]
Theatre
Kicking off our theatre picks, Fringe darlings Xhloe and Natasha bring a triple bill of their consecutive Fringe First-winning shows And Then the Rodeo Burned Down, What If They Ate the Baby, and A Letter to Lyndon B Johnson or God: Whoever Reads This First to theSpace. After taking their work as far as South Korea in the past year, the duo (along with lighting designer Angelo Sagnelli) have garnered international acclaim for their incisive physical theatre (1-23 Aug).
Here & Now, a programme of new work originating in England, is bringing up another slate of ambitious work. In IV, SERAFINE1369 enfolds the political project of dance into a quartet of movement and stillness (Assembly @ Dance Base, 19-24 Aug). Hackney Showroom (with Brixton House and Royal Court Theatre) presents The Legends of Them, a raucously funny chronicle of the life and memories of Sutara Gayle AKA Lorna Gee (ZOO Southside, 19-24 Aug). Khalid Abdalla brings his solo show, Nowhere, to Travfest. The piece is inspired by Abdalla’s experience in the Egyptian revolution of 2011 and the counterrevolution that followed (Traverse 1, 12-24 Aug).
Edinburgh itself hosts many artists presenting their own work this festival season. Edinburgh-based Irish playwright and performer Conor O’Dwyer and Emma Ruse Productions present Homo(sapien), O’Dwyer’s debut play. The solo show tackles Catholic guilt, internalised homophobia and the pressures of coming of age (Assembly Roxy Snug Bar, 30 Jul-24 Aug).
At Bedlam Theatre, Intrepid Fools perform Eelmageddon (12-17 Aug), which the company calls a “freakishly fanciful” devised show about, well, eels. A disgraced eel scientist and his assistant set out to reverse the eelpocalypse against all odds.
In a similar ecological vein, Heads on Crooked presents Mushroomification: Legs, Legs, Legs, a story about a talking mushroom desperate to be an individual and a (presumably talking) human desperate to be anything but an individual. After a sold-out run in May, this emerging Edinburgh company is dedicated to taking big swings in experimental theatre (The Mash House, 31 Jul-5 Aug).
Edinburgh-based feminist company F-Bomb Theatre brings their new show, Float, to Gilded Balloon. The multimedia piece is a work of autobiography by Indra Wilson, co-directed by legendary Scottish artists Cora Bissett and Niloo-Far Khan, revolving around the experience of pregnancy loss as a young, queer person (Gilded Balloon Other Yin, 30 Jul-25 Aug).
After a series of acclaimed shows for all ages, Edinburgh-based storyteller Niall Moorjani presents Kanpur: 1857, a thrilling drama about the titular uprising against British colonial forces in India. The show wryly satirises contemporary conversations about colonisation, gender and resistance
Photo: Helen Murray
Photo: Camilla Greenwell
Photo: YISKID
Image: courtesy of Michael Hoppen Gallery, London
Photo: Morgan Mcdowell
IV by SERAFINE1369 presented as part of the Here & Now Showcase
Siân Davey, The Garden V
Xhloe and Natasha
Lewis Walker, Bornsick
Nowhere by Khalid Abdallah and Fuel, presented as part of the Here & Now Showcase
(Beneath @ Pleasance Courtyard, 30 Jul-24 Aug). For younger audiences, Moorjani brings an adaptation of their children’s book, Rajiv’s Starry Feelings, to the Scottish Storytelling Centre with Astraea Theatre Company and Discover Children’s Story Centre. In it, Rajiv learns to accept and express his anger with the help of this father (George Mackay Brown Library @ Scottish Storytelling Centre, 31 Jul-10 Aug).
Also at Gilded Balloon is Alexis Sakellaris’s solo show A Stan Is Born, which features original songs performed live. Described as a ‘queer Bo Burnham’, Sakellaris tells the story of growing up in the closet and finding queerness through fandom, specifically through the stanning of iconic pop divas (Gilded Balloon Blether, 30 Jul-25 Aug).
At Summerhall, Ruxandra Cantir presents Pickled Republic, described as a ‘surreal theatrical cabaret for adults’ (Anatomy Lecture Theatre, 31 Jul-25 Aug). In Imprints, The Palimpsest Project combines live cinema, puppetry and soundscape to explore the less well-trodden paths of queerness and memory loss (Anatomy Lecture Theatre, 31 Jul-25 Aug). Jo Tan presents King, a solo show about a woman on track to a completely normal, successful life, which is upended by the invention of her drag king alter ego (Former Gent’s Locker Room, 12-25 Aug). Following their 2023 hit CREEPY BOYS, Sam Kruger and S E Grummett perform SLUGS, a ‘technocolour acid trip’ about partying at the end of the world (Red Lecture Theatre, 31 Jul-25 Aug).
At Underbelly, Ngofeen Mputubwele and Alex Hare perform The Monkeypox Gospel, a two-hander about a journalist’s big break reporting on the global monkeypox outbreak of 2022. Grappling with his own queerness and identity, the journalist must sift through layers of cultural material to uncover the truth about viruses (Underbelly Cowgate, 31 Jul-24 Aug). Also at Underbelly is Untapped Award-winning JEEZUS!, an irreverent musical tackling Catholic guilt, queerness and colonialism (Underbelly Cowgate, 31 Jul-24 Aug). At Underbelly’s Circus Hub, The Mythological Theatre presents Mythos: Ragnarök, a high-octane wrestling adaptation of Norse mythology (1-23 Aug). And in Bristo Square, Breaking the Binary and Elliot Page’s production company, PAGEGOY, present Cecilia Gentili’s Red Ink, an autobiographical work by the late activist, artist and icon Cecilia Gentili.
At ZOO Playground, Blind Theatre presents Another Sight, a play staged in complete darkness by a cast of blind and sighted actors. The show follows a maid and her employer as they undergo cancer treatment simultaneously (1-24 Aug). Edinburgh International Festival offers a wide array of performance, including The Dan Daw Show, the acclaimed dance piece fusing sexy choreo and a touching interrogation of ableism (Lyceum Theatre, 2-4 Aug). Canadian Indigenous playwright Cliff Cardinal brings his adaptation, As You Like It: A Radical Retelling, to the Church Hill Theatre. The play uses Shakespeare’s classic text to confront our own realities (20-23 Aug). [Rho Chung]
Comedy
The list is simple; half debut comics and half returning artists (with a couple of one-offs squeezed in). We’d also heartily recommend everyone we spoke to in July and August’s issues (Brass Tacks’ roster, Abnormally Funny People, Liebenspiel’s roster, Molly McGuinness, Andy Barr, Jain Edwards, Rosa Garland, Su Mi, Ellen Turnill Montoya, Liam Withnail and Alex Stringer).
Here goes:
Local lad Ayo Adenekan (Monkey Barrel (Cab Vol 2), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 13), 1.30pm, £7-8) burst onto the Scottish comedy circuit after COVID and has quickly become a favourite with his tales of growing up in Edinburgh as a queer, Black man and his easy, laidback charm.
Ada and Bron (Pleasance Courtyard (Attic), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 13), 11pm, £9-13) have got it going on. The pair have been working with the likes of Fringe legend John-Luke Roberts and Christian Brighty on the show, and already have a BAFTA nom under their belt (!!!). We think this real life couple is trying to seduce us with their extravagant character comedy.
A cinephile named Cabbage (Underbelly George Square (Buttercup), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 12,19), 9.45pm, £8.50-12.50) is our list’s first clown. The alter-ego of performer and professional costume designer Eliza Nelso, Cinemadrome sounds like the perfect mash-up of late night gags, drag and multimedia, wrapped up in pop culture references.
Having been on the scene for some time, we’re excited to see Toussaint Douglass’ (Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker One), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 11), 7.25pm, £9-13) Fringe debut. Endearingly awkward and silly, Accessible Pigeon
Photo: Alice Gorman
Photo: Hugo Glendinning
Image: Looky Here
Image: Andy Catlin
The Dan Daw Show Float
Kanpur 1857
Pickled Republic
Ayo Adenekan
Photo: Beth Moar
Material opens the door on the comic’s unique world view, tackling neurodivergence, Windrush and the rat-with-wings all at the same time.
The second of our Scottish recs is Kim Blythe (Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Other Yin), 30 Jul-25 Aug (not 11), 7.30pm, £10-15). Having only started stand-up a couple of years ago, Kim is well on her way to being a household name in Scotland thanks to her cheery online clips (and semi-serious investigative journalism around ghost election candidates). Cowboy is set to chart her rise to fame whilst battling with imposter syndrome.
Making a welcome return to the festival is oddball clown Lucy Pearman (Monkey Barrel (Cab Vol 1), 1-24 Aug (not 11,18), 1pm, £10-15), bringing her first full run to the Fringe since 2019. Innocent, interactive and completely absurd, Pearman’s new show Lunartic sees her dress as The Moon to perform an hour of playful derangement for our pleasure.
Phil Ellis (Monkey Barrel (MB4), 11-24 Aug, 12.45pm, £10) has long been on our must-see-every-Fringe list and just gets better and better. We gave last year’s show five stars, he was nominated for the big Edinburgh Comedy Award 2024, and following his latest outing, Soppy Stern, he’s about to be on Taskmaster. Snap up tickets before he’s playing massive venues!
Finally (indulge us for a minute), once a year, a Fringe show comes along with such raw animal magnetism that we just can’t pull ourselves away. This year, that’s Adam Riches and John Kearns are Ball and Boe (Pleasance Courtyard (Grand), 14-16 Aug, 11pm, £21). For three nights only, the two award-winning comedians become two giants of the musical theatre scene with a bromance never before seen at the Fringe. Initially at Soho Theatre over Christmas, rumour has it real-life Boe loved the show so much, he’s now giving the comedians singing lessons.
We also wanted to take the time to shout out three one-off gigs taking place over the festival:
Controversial during the Fringe, Alternative Comedy in Good Faith (Glasgow Zine Library, 10 Aug, 12-8pm, £5-£8) is an afternoon of shows for folk who don’t fancy being in Edinburgh with the Gallaghers. Boasting hours from David Callaghan, Ruth Hunter, Richard Brown and more, it’s the perfect escape from all the obnoxious bucket hats glued to the heads of mad-fer-it wanks.
In aid of Citadel Youth Centre, Punchline on Leith (Fringe @ Citadel, 6 Aug, 7pm, £15) brings together a corker of a lineup for a much-deserving cause. Sets from Stevie Martin (whose whole Fringe run has already sold out), Liam Withnail, and more ace comics, plus Nish Kumar headlining. Why wouldn’t you buy a ticket? And if you can’t make it, chuck a couple of quid friendsofcitadel.org.uk’s way.
And join Connor Burns and pals to raise vital funds for the Edinburgh Food Project (Assembly Checkpoint, 18 Aug, 6.30pm, £15). Although the lineup is yet to be revealed, it’ll be a surefire cracker. You can also support the Edinburgh Food Project through monetary and food donations or volunteering your time at edinburghfoodproject.org. If you’re in need of support yourself, all the info is on there too. [Polly Glynn]
Books
Another year, another August. If the noise of the Fringe and all the other festivals becomes a bit much and you just want to curl up in a corner with a good book (event) then you’re in luck, because there’s a whole host of bookish performances, launches and activities across Scotland to keep you occupied. Over in Glasgow, Govanhill International Festival (1-10 Aug) hosts a mini book festival, with appearances from Chris McQueer in conversation with Peter Mohan (9 Aug), winner of the 2023 Nan Shepherd Prize Alycia Pirmohamed speaking about her poetry career (9 Aug), and a programme of Palestinian authors including Deline Abushaban, Dareen Tartour and Mohamed Mousa (9 Aug).
Across the central belt, meanwhile, are the proverbial elephants in the big book tent. Edinburgh International Book Festival’s 2025 edition, running 9-24 August, is themed around Repair, exploring how everything is broken (lol) and how we might go about fixing it. Big names include Ma ie O’Farrell (15 Aug), Ta-Nehisi Coates (16 Aug), R. F. Kuang (24 Aug) and Ian McEwan (24 Aug) appearing at McEwan Hall as part of their The Front List strand. Other highlights from the festival include Nussaibah Younis discussing her Women’s Prize for Fiction-nominated Fundamentally (13 Aug), four poets Pratyusha, Alycia Pirmohamed, Jessica J Lee and Nina Mingya Powles exploring experimental forms of poetry and publishing (23 Aug), a showcase
Toussaint Douglass
Image: courtesy of the artist
Image: courtesy of Cherry Comedy, Dublin
Photo: Daryll Buchanan
Kim Blythe
Ruth Hunter
Adam Riches
Photo: Tim Phillips
Alycia Pirmohamed
of work by queer Scottish writers including Ely Percy and Shola von Rheinhold in support of Fierce Salvage: A Queer Words Anthology (15 Aug), and Heather Parry and Nell Stevens talking all things Gothic and grotesque (14 Aug).
For a more indie take on the publishing scene, Book Fringe is back, baby. Three Edinburgh indie bookshops – Lighthouse Bookshop, Argonaut Books and Typewronger books – team up for the crossover event of the year, with a range of free bookish events throughout the month that you can drop in on from 3-26 August. The full programme has yet to be announced, but some sneak peek highlights include an event with queer Nigerian writer Eloghosa Osunde (5 Aug), Joel White and Laura C Foster on their Pluto Press book Friends in Common on the politics of radical friendship (13 Aug), and Dayna Ash and Yasmine Rifaii on I Will Always Be Looking For You: A Queer Anthology on Arab Art (19 Aug). There’s more incredible Arab writing over at Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine too, which runs 12-15 August: there’s poetry from Dareen Tatour and the Gaza Poets Society (12 Aug), and a storytelling session on food and literature led by Scotland-based Gazan storyteller Diline Abushaban (15 Aug).
And away from the festival scene in Glasgow, Eloghosa Osunde also appears at Waterstones Argyle Street to launch Necessary Fiction on 5 August and R. F. Kuang launches her latest novel Katabasis there too on 26 August. Over at Glasgow Women’s Library, there’s a workshop exploring life writing on 28 August, and there’s a Glasgow Storytellers Group at Glasgow Zine Library, where people can share works-in-progress and chat (4 Aug).
[Anahit Behrooz]
by
Photo: Mike Styer
Image: courtesy of Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine
Dareen Tatour
Vee Smith and Sadiq Ali
34 Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine promises a four-day mini-festival of work created by Palestinian artists in Portobello Town Hall.
37 Actor and activist Khalid Abdalla discusses revolution and his antibiographical play Nowhere
38 Our theatre editor asks what the use of generative AI means for creativity in performance.
42 We consider the state of masculinity through the lens of three Fringe theatre productions.
45 Niall Moorjani on Kanpur 1857
48 We talk to Su Mi, Rosa Garland and Ellen Turnill Montoya to find out if performance art comedy is the new alternative comedy.
50 We chat to five comics staying sober this Fringe season.
54 Jain Edwards and Andy Barr write a letter to themselves ahead of their respective returns to Edinburgh.
58 Artist printmaker Aqsa Arif ’s Raindrops of Rani and the necessity for creative expression in the face of growing threats to social housing.
61 Olivia Priya Foster on slow making, queer rurality and their works-in-progress.
62 Our Edinburgh Art Festival emerging critics appraise three exhibitions by Linder, Jonathan Baldock and Wael Shawky.
70 Simone Seales and Mele Broomes on collaborative poetry performance Dearest, coming to Edinburgh International Book Festival this month.
Image Credits: (Left to right, top to bottom) Image: courtesy of Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine; Helen Murray; Brian Ca; Rah Petherbridge; Alice Gorman; Paul Gilbey; Eamonn Martin; Michael Mannon; Talha Imam; Craig R McIntosh; Niel Hanna; @joestevenhart
73 We chat with Laura C. Forster and Joel White about their book Friends in Common.
77 We catch up with Lomond Campbell to talk physics and turning cosmic rays into music for MŮO.
78 We talk Glastonbury and Metalhorse with Tor Maries, the one woman behind Billy Nomates
81 A love letter to Fringe by the Sea, Scotland’s freshest festival.
82 Edinburgh International Film Festival returns with a focus on New Queer Cinema
84 Charlie Shackleton on Zodiac Killer Project, a meta documentary about the film he wasn’t permitted to make.
89 Nick Karlsberg, aka Skillis, on taking up a Monday residency with Gay Garage at Sneaky Pete’s.
90 Spoken word poet Oliver Robertson reflects on bringing working class Scottish stories to an international stage.
94 We chat with Glasgow author Chris McQueer on his debut novel Hermit ahead of his appearance at the Govanhill International Festival.
97 We catch up with Humour frontman Andreas Christodoulidis ahead of the release of their debut Learning Greek.
101 Ahead of their appearance at Edinburgh Psych Fest, we speak to La Sécurité’s Éliane Viens-Synnott.
102 We catch up with Bemz ahead of the sophomore outing of M4 Festival.
On the website... Reviews a-plenty from across the Edinburgh Festivals! Loads of them! Also, episode two of our Music Now podcast with Alice Faye; The Cineskinny podcast previews Edinburgh International Film Festival; our weekly new music Spotlight interviews; all the latest on our festival awards, The Besties…
Image Credits: (Left to right, top to bottom) Friends in Common courtesy of Lomond Campbell; Jack Dallas; mr_smith_drone; On The Sea; Zodiak Killer Project; courtesy of Skillis; Magda Michalak; Euan Anderson; Megan Di Pinto; Joel Thomas; Kate Johnston
Jade @ TRNSMT, Glasgow, 13 July by
Kate Johnston
The (7)
Bitterness – our narc (anag) (7)
Twirl (9)
High (5) 13. Show-off – prose (anag) (5)
Little smoker? (9) 15. Audience on their feet – and toasting vino (anag) (8,7) 20. Declared (9) 23. Winner (5) 25. Pop (5) 26. Glowing glass tube (4,5)
Fame (7) 28. Those who take pleasure in others' pain (7)
Compiled by George Sully
1. Iconic Scottish instrument (8)
2. Tempests – stomps (6)
3. Got (8)
4. Frantic (6)
5. Opera gig (anag) – notes of a chord played quickly (8)
6. Branched horn (6)
7. – to infect (anag) (8)
8. Diamond pattern (6)
16. Unusual (8)
17. Alias (8)
18. Award (8)
19. Family favouritism (8)
20. Surprise (6)
21. Messy (6)
22. Sleepy (6)
24. Venerable – prestigious (6) Feedback? Email crossword@theskinny.co.uk Turn to page 7 for the solutions
In this month's advice column, one reader asks how to delicately put up some boundaries
How do you navigate a pal that gets a bit too touchyfeely when drunk but otherwise is so normal with you (and a really great friend!). I’d feel too uncomfortable to call her out but it is something I always dread happening when we are out and all drinking...
Look, I mean, obviously you should gently confront her, express your boundaries without fear, and trust that the relationship will survive whatever awkwardness ensues. We all know this. But I can’t wring 400 words out of such a patently sensible and boring solution so, plan B: you should tell the truth! By lying :)
Specifically, you should strike up a nonchalant conversation when you’re both definitively sober, telling her about your discomfort when another friend – she wouldn’t know them, this other friend is extremely shy but they definitely exist and do not go to high school in another town, why would your first friend even su est that, you’ve been adults for years and this isn’t Glee – gets a bit too tactile when drunk. You see, it makes you so uncomfortable because it oversteps so many of your boundaries, but you just don’t know how to communicate this because you don’t want to hurt this friend’s feelings! Does your first friend, the one who is currently sober and would never dream of doing such a thing, have any advice? Because the thing is, you really don’t like being touched like that. Isn’t it so frustrating when people behave in thoughtless ways, and have to be managed so delicately?
A little while ago in this column, I gave some very good advice about how to lie and A Man I Do Not Know And Do Not Care To sent a response to our general inbox in which he clutched his pearls for about five paragraphs on the state of moral decay in contemporary media. I thought this was extremely loser behaviour, firstly because he wrote an email that no one asked for, and secondly because lying can not only be sexy but also – as in the case above – extremely useful. People can understandably feel defensive when put on the spot: no one likes the feeling of being caught out, but everyone loves the feeling of gossiping. Give the public what they want! And yeah, it’s important to know how to express your needs and boundaries, blah blah blah. But between you and me, not every point of conflict has to be a Very Special Blossom moment. If your fondness for this person is making it hard to draw the lines you need, then draw them obliquely. It still counts, I think. Surely there are participation trophies for self-actualisation too.
Do you have a problem Anahit could help with? Get in touch by email on pettyshit@theskinny.co.uk, send us your quandaries with an almost-unhelpful level of anonymity via NGL, or look out for Ask Anahit callouts on our Instagram stories
Trans Masc Studies is a research project by Ellis Jackson Kroese that looks into the history of trans masculine and trans masculine-adjacent identities and presentations across history. Poster by
Masc Studies (p64-65)
The World Stage
Brace yourselves – Edinburgh Festivals incoming. Ahead of the return of the World’s Bi est Arts Festival (s) ™, our August magazine is absolutely jam-packed with expertly chosen recommendations of shows and events from across the different festivals. At 128 pages, it’s a mega issue, a microcosm of the sheer intensity of the capital in August. We take in programmes platforming Palestinian artists, theatre in sheds, clowns, sober comics, not sober comics, Rho complaining about AI, world renowned artists, locally renowned artists, explorations of contemporary masculinity, the Zodiac Killer, sheep shearing, and a machine which turns cosmic rays into music via science. That’s just scratching the surface – read on for an insight into the highlights on Edinburgh’s Fringe, Art Festival, Film Festival, International Festival, Book Festival and much more besides.
Pathways to Possibility
Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine arrives at Portobello Town Hall, promising a four-day mini-festival of theatre, dance, comedy, food, storytelling, music and poetry created by Palestinians
In a city saturated by the sensationalised Edinburgh Festival Fringe, Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine emerges as a resolutely anti-spectacular offering. Portobello may be an unlikely host – its quiet sands and Georgian terraces seem far removed from Gaza’s grit or the West Bank’s checkpoints. Yet, from Tuesday 12 at 147–149 Portobello High Street, a transnational bridge will be built through art. If the Fringe proper is a carnival of attention, Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine embodies a gentler kind of magnifying glass: inward-looking, compassionate, intentional.
At £60 for a full-day pass (or £15 per show), with pay-by-the-performance options, the festival is priced accessibly – though that price comes freighted with a quiet charge: we step in not as consumers, but as witnesses. The organisers – a coalition of international writers, dancers, theatremakers, publishers, and producers – have poured in their own labour, drawn from years of cultural exchange. This groundswell of support goes beyond solidarity: it is a deliberate political and communal gesture, rooted in reciprocal hospitality.
The programme – assembled by co-organisers such as Sara Shaarawi, Henry Bell, Leonor Estrada, Ben Harrison, David Greig and Farah Saleh – resists a tidy artistic agenda. It mingles genres, tones, and modes of expression, and refuses both pacification and escapism. Each piece is unapologetically political, but the politics never overwhelm aesthetic curiosity. Instead, story and spectacle are braided, frictionless. The festival’s dual pact is clear: expect resistance without dogma, and art without erasure.
As choreographer Amir Sabra puts it: “I don’t carry any messages. Today, anyone can see what’s happening live in Gaza, Palestine, and the region, and there’s no need for a message from a dancer. I don’t think I, as an artist, have much to offer on a national level. Perhaps the recent experience in Gaza has shown us that hard power has the final say. This does not mean that art is not necessary. But its necessity is more humanitarian than national. Today, we see that art in general, and dance in particular, as a practice, has increased significantly in Gaza, especially among children.
Words: Maria Farsoon
“Art consoles people and allows them to create a world other than their own”
Amir Sabra
We see that Gazan society, which is somewhat conservative, not only accepts the idea of dance, but celebrates it in front of the world. This perhaps hints to us at the importance of artistic practice itself is at the human level. Art consoles people and allows them to create a world other than their own. A world with more harmony and rhythm. Art that focuses on national issues is unnecessary and benefits no one but its creator.”
In a moment where international conversations on Palestine are policed, sanctioned, sanitised by mainstream institutions, this centre on the cultural periphery becomes revolutionary. It is, in effect, a challenge to the broader art world: if we cannot open ourselves to unfiltered Palestinian voices, are we even engaging at all?
This is not an invitation to spectacle, but to an ongoing process of collectively preserving the cultural fabric of a land whose people are estranged, and of a people whose land has been stripped and deformed. The programme promises to relearn and realign with forms of art indigenous and natural to Palestinian culture, through a bodily focus. With dance, music, and theatre, the programme places importance on our bodies to decolonise our spaces because an intellectual discussion of decolonising the mind is not enough. Farah Saleh, who is also a Professor of Performance Studies at Glasgow University, is dedicated to this reappropriation of dance and performance. She implies that the aim here is not pity, nor performative allyship. The project unifies its creators and participants with the wider Palestinian stru le. In conversation with Muriel Besemer and Rafat Al Aydi, who make up Nafas Collective, there is a mutual understanding between both individuals that borders and gaps in language are fickle and that truly political art must firstly accept a singular core of shared values, even when the body politic possesses many heads. This is to say that the disparity in language offers more time and space of artistic exchange and understanding, without forcing a discussion of semantics. Al Aydi, who is based in Gaza, specifically
notes the significance of sharing his art to liberate individuals from propaganda – the kind that classifies Palestinian music and instruments as ‘Israeli’. Gazelleband's Louis Brehony, identifies the importance of rejecting falsities like this. The Manchester-born guitarist-turned-buzuq-player notes Palestine as the capital of music before Zionist occupation, and the programme’s musical acts strive to revive that position on an international scale because music – as he says – does not require lyric to be political. Palestine’s cultural history is ongoing, and every form of engagement with Palestinian art reinvigorates it, like the children that Reem Anbar – the duo act’s founder – worked with in April 2025.
“My idea to go and work in the Palestinian camps in Lebanon was a dream and an idea, realised after a long time of preparation… children who suffer the same suffering as the children of Gaza: wars, travel bans and being denied good education and treatment. They live in very narrow houses and streets, they cannot play and do not have a space to express themselves. When I spoke to organisers in Borj al-Barajneh and Mar Elias refugee camps, I asked for ten children for each workshop and I was surprised to find that there were more than 30 children in each session!... They had many questions and curiosity about Palestine and music. I conveyed to them messages I had collected from the children of Gaza, and the children from the Beirut camps in turn gave me messages to the children of Gaza in love and solidarity. We worked on many musical activities and sang the song My Grandmother Has a Dress and a Shawl. They loved the song because it is from inside Gaza and tells about our customs and heritage. This song was written in Gaza by the poet Khaled Juma and many children have sung it. The children in the camps told me that they had never attended such music workshops before and that it
was new to them. They enjoyed it a lot and took longer than my usual workshop time. I promised them that I would be back in Lebanon to work with them again shortly.”
We take for granted our access to spaces wherein we may practise and express our creativity. Humanity is at the core of everything, but let us not confuse this with the notion that Palestinians need to be humanised. This term has infiltrated rhetoric surrounding Gaza’s endurance of genocide, and Welcome to the Fringe offers a space wherein participants may assess the issue with width as well as depth. In a July besieged by images of Gaza’s ruins – civilians queuing for aid, collapsing infrastructure, civilian mortality rising – Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine responds with art that is unafraid to peer back. It invites not neutrality, but reflection. It asks whether we can consciously enter a space and recognise that the right to story, to laughter, to melody and grief, is itself a terrain of contest. When I first encountered the festival’s announcement, I felt both unease and solace – unease because I was wary of the programme being awkwardly overshadowed by the Fringe Festival, yet solace because it trusts the viewer with complexity. This is not a series in which Palestine auditions for the world’s sympathy, but it is art as politics – from lived experience, rigorous craft, and both lyrical and wordless rebellion.
Implied too is the rejection of the commercial: crowdfunded, independent, unaligned with major festivals. It is local energy, global purpose. In offering Palestinian artists their own stage – uncut, unmediated, unlicensed – the organisers render the festival itself an act of embedded resistance.
Amir Sabra’s choreography lifts, turns, and fractures bodies that know erasure. Nur Garabli’s ballet becomes a reclamation of grace in exile. Mahmoud Al-Hourani’s puppetry smu les silence
between shouts. Sisters of Gaza become songwriters. A rapper from Jabalia wields beat as bridge. It feels urgent, yes – but not frantic. It is measured by dignity; tender, yet unstoppable. There are no neat arcs. There are glimmers. There are ruptures. There is room to breathe, to ask, to err, to hold.
As the Fringe proper swells with commercial fervour – frantic marketing, tourist overload, ticket saturation – this small-scale festival offers a radically different pulse. You might still crave big productions, but what you’ll remember, long after the noise has faded, is the taste of solidarity, the hush after spoken word, the closeness of those ten or twenty carrying un-erased stories.
This August, the pathway to Portobello Town Hall is also a pathway to possibility – not in the abstract, but in the concrete: four days, hundreds of lives intersecting. To attend is to choose another kind of festival. Not neutral. Not easy. But richly humane. A heartfelt contraction within the Fringe’s expanding, echoing amphitheatre.
In a time of brutal global fracture, cultural forms that shape resonance over spectacle have a rare potency. Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine is not just a fringe event – it’s a kind of moral threshold. I ask, when did we start equating volume with value? This festival says: turn down the volume, lean in, listen.
In Portobello this August, Palestine’s artists are drawing a new line: against erasure, against indifference, gently but firmly insisting that art must matter – politically, collectively, spiritually. Let’s step through the threshold.
Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine, Portobello Town Hall, 12-15 Aug fringepalestine.com
Amir Sabra Image: courtesy of Welcome to the Fringe, Palestine
Here, There, Nowhere
Our Books editor speaks to Khalid Abdalla, the artist behind Nowhere, which interrogates, challenges and remembers the meaning of revolution
Words: Anahit Behrooz
Can you tell me about the play and how it came to be?
Nowhere is about the intersecting world of crises that we live in, told through the prism of the Egyptian revolution and this moment in Palestine as two major poles of what it is to be an Arab in this world. The play fractures out into colonial histories, personal histories, collective histories, a kind of summoning of political ghosts.
The word nowhere is, at some level, the space of the theatre, but also an inversion of what tends not to be acknowledged in the outside world, and trying to make a space of gathering for it.
What does this summoning of political ghosts mean to you?
The show was first done at the Battersea Arts Centre in October, around the anniversary of October 7 when – I mean, it’s still contested – but when the word genocide was difficult to utter inside a theatre. I have lived my entire life surrounded by different forms of silencing that then erupt into our faces: a crisis that has apparently come out of nowhere.
Part of that comes from my experience of the Egyptian revolution, where you live an experience that everyone yesterday was saying was totally impossible, and then suddenly millions of people are realigned in themselves and with each other. And then comes the moment of counter-revolution. Your background, is it Iranian?
It is, and I was just thinking about that, that promise and fall of revolution.
And where it lives in our region and where it lives in these cultural personal histories, right? That’s the importance of that spectre and where it sits in relation to a present world that is in crisis after crisis after crisis. What’s not being acknowledged? What is forcing these constant ruptures? And what is forcing the repression on the other side?
And then you come to a moment like Gaza, where the resonance of the word ‘nowhere’ is ‘nowhere is safe.’ For me, the word first came from Theresa May’s obnoxious speech in which she said, ‘if you believe you’re a citizen of the world, you’re a citizen of nowhere.’ And you go, ‘Okay, so I’m a citizen of nowhere, and nowhere is safe. Where the fuck do I belong?’
You spoke about your role in the Egyptian revolution: I’m curious what your relationship to revolution is these days. Do you still see it as a vehicle for optimism?
My experience of revolution has changed my understanding of time and how time works. [There’s] that famous line that’s like, ‘did the French Revolution succeed? It’s too early to tell.’ I live that as an understanding of how to be in the world.
Revolutionary rhythms are immensely dysfunctional. I think one of the things we often forget about revolutions, because they are such extraordinarily beautiful things to experience in the moment, is that as soon as any dust begins to settle, you’ve got to deal with the immense muck that created these circumstances. Inevitably, you are in a situation of structural deficit and that tends to benefit whoever is strong enough. I understand that as a revolutionary rhythm, but I also understand what it instils deep inside the soul of a culture or a people.
The thing that changed me was understanding the word ‘becoming’ as opposed to ‘being’. This idea of becoming revolutionary, which everyone is in a state of at some level, is different to being in revolution. It’s this constant potential of rupture. What I find the challenge is how do I live as close to that and honour that? How do I build my relationship with it?
I’m curious how art then intersects with this. Do you see this revolutionary potential as the project of the play?
My dream [for Nowhere] is that it would be like a portal. You arrive from the world that we all treat as normative. You go into a space. You summon all of these things. You have an entirely different space of belonging and alignment, and then you go back to that world and go: ‘I want more of this when I’m back out there.’ And in summoning this for others and for myself, it encourages me to go, ‘I can live for this more deeply.’
That’s where the theatre aspect of it is absolutely essential, because it’s a gathering in real space, with your body, with others. When you’re in a space of a shared experience, it’s actually been lived. It goes back to the ancient roots of theatre and why we gather. Part of the way that political control works is to alienate people and make them feel alone. And it’s only when you gather around ideas in the big traditions of freedom of assembly, that other potentials are released.
Nowhere, part of the Here & Now showcase, Traverse 1, 12-24 Aug (not 18) (90 mins), £20-25
Nowhere by Khalid Abdalla and Fuel, presented as part of the Here & Now Showcase
Photo: Helen Murray
The Body Is Disappearing
Our theatre editor asks what the use of generative AI means for creativity in performance
In May of this year, I got my first email about an ‘AI-powered’ Fringe show. Without pointing my Luddite gun at any specific projects, let me break down why I will personally never cover a show that advertises its ‘collaboration’ with AI, Chat GPT or other Language Learning Models (LLMs).
I don’t blame artists for wanting to cash in on a technology that has seen explosive growth, both in the labour landscape and in cultural consciousness. To users, generative AI technologies may seem like magical robots in our phones that solve our problems. But these technologies do have physical bodies – they live in data centres, temperature-controlled buildings run by humans and cooled by fresh water. According to an MIT report titled Generative AI’s environmental impact, one of the things that makes asking Chat GPT something different from searching something in one of our engines of yore is the ‘power density’ required to perform that task. By now, most of us have heard the adage that one exchange with Chat GPT is like dumping out a bottle of fresh water, consuming seven or eight times more energy than ‘typical computing workload.’ This is alarming in and of itself, but the meaning of Chat GPT’s infiltration into our working and creative lives is even more insidious.
There’s labour involved, too – a lot of it. These products steal our work; if you use Google Drive, WeTransfer, or similar platforms, chances are that your fan fiction drafts and photo dumps have been scraped to train an AI. Beyond what is taken from us here in Scotland, human labour in the global South plays a major and ongoing role in making these technologies function. In a 2023 article, Time
reported that OpenAI trained GPT-3 using labour by Kenyan workers paid less than $2 per hour. This isn’t a one-time exchange, either. These models need to be monitored and updated constantly. When you ask Chat GPT something, you are demonstrating that you don’t actually mind that fact, as long as your problem gets solved.
All this is to say that your text to Chat GPT isn’t the same as texting a friend. It isn’t, for all its new age, technofascist posturing, actually all that automated. When you ask Chat GPT something, your query is fed through servers cooled by precious water using models trained by exploited labour and stolen content. “AI” – in scare quotes because the technology has no actual intelligence and encompasses a vast array of computing processes and purposes – merely shifts the visibility of our own exploitation onto the shoulders of workers in the global South. It just steals someone else’s wages.
The underlying problem that this conflict is circling is the stru le of exploited labourers. As workers in the global North, it is our obligation to show solidarity with workers who continue to be exploited by states and corporations that pass benefits onto us, prioritising our comfort, pleasure and ease in being exploited ourselves. If, as artists, we want to make something that seems beyond human capability, is it not the point of art to make it work? In passing off the obstacles we face to a highly exploitative, planet-killing profit machine, what are we saying about our own creativity? How can we support each other in a way that enables us to refuse the infringement of these predatory technologies? What will it take for us to grow a spine?
Words: Rho Chung
'When you ask Chat GPT something, your query is fed through servers cooled by precious water using models trained by exploited labour and stolen content'
Speaking of spines, Isaiah Wilson confronts the erasure of the body in this technological age in his dance piece, Score, at Dance Base this August. The piece is a powerful counterexample, depicting the fraught relationship between body and machine. “The body is disappearing more and more,” Wilson says. “I see it in interpersonal connections with people. If you needed information before, you [would go] to a library, so you have to walk, take your bike, go to a library, take a book, open the book physically. This is all physical. Today, you just need to move your fingers. If you zoom out and look at what the body is doing, it’s basically just moving the finger.”
Score uses an Electrical Muscle Stimulator (EMS) machine, a musical score and a pre-programmed MIDI controller to operate the bodies of three dancers using directly administered electrical, as opposed to brain, signals. The dancers become human puppets, their muscles contracting and relaxing at the whims of the machine. Wilson says, “I want to put the body back in, because I’m questioning the role of the body in society.” Score is computational art created by a huge amount of work coding, writing and choreographing. It replicates and interrogates the erasure of subjectivity wrought by technology. “The machine without the body is nothing,” Wilson continues. “It’s just a tool.”
Beyond how this conversation pertains to theatre at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, the stakes are even higher in our day-to-day lives. Not only is the capital B Body being erased, but this erasure relies, as ever, on our willingness to look away from the exploitation of Black and Brown bodies. My question is this: what is your comfort worth to you? How many stolen lives and ecosystems are an acceptable price to pay for what we see as normalcy?
From Texas to Tokyo to the College of Art, Shedinburgh brings a new approach to the Fringe’s presentation to Edinburgh this August
Words: Aidan Monks
With the annual Edinburgh Fringe fast approaching, conversations about the festival’s scale, accessibility, and sustainability are intensifying. The fact that the festival is becoming less accessible for creatives worldwide, in various ways that include venue fees, travel, and accommodation expenses, is undeniable. Not everyone has a friend’s couch or floor to crash on somewhere amenable to the city centre, or can pay the spiking costs of hotels, Airbnbs, and rental flats; not to mention the inevitable costs of living in Edinburgh throughout the festival. Most artists who take on the Fringe do so independently – in other words, without the backing of an organisation that can put them up for the duration of a run, and cover additional costs.
In the chaos of the Fringe programme, which features 3,352 individual acts this year, there is also the issue of the festival’s escalating size. This (perhaps) inevitable element of the world’s largest performing arts festival lends itself to the ‘hang around and hope’ mentality, which has come to define most artists’ approach to attending the festival. Under the current model, these issues of the Edinburgh Fringe are likely to persist or worsen. But the beginnings of a new model, presented by Francesca Moody Productions, arrive in the capital this August.
You may recall the Shedinburgh Fringe, an innovative turn to digital theatre in 2020 when the pandemic caused the cancellation of in-person festivities. Francesca Moody – the producer behind Fringe hits like Fleabag and Baby Reindeer – and co-producer Harriet Bolwell, alongside theatremaker Gary McNair, began this makeshift project in the wake of the Edinburgh Fringe’s cancellation, streaming 25 performances from two sheds – one at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, and another at the Soho Theatre, London. Since the stream reached over 5,000 viewers from Texas to Tokyo, Shedinburgh was revitalised the following year with a hybrid of digital and in-person theatre, comedy, and musical events (33 in total) and four free Shedx talks from industry professionals. After 2021, however, Moody, Bolwell, and McNair’s project appeared to have faded into a memory of pandemic past: just like so many circumstantial experiments that defined those years, it was shru ed into history by a welcome return to normalcy. That is, until August 2025.
‘The Shed’ will debut its inaugural live season at the 2025 Fringe, with a catalogue of one-night-only performances specially produced for a brand new venue. Propped up by a plethora of talented team members, including scenic designer Casey Jay Andrews, lighting designer Ryan Day, and stage manager Emma Vize, the
The Shedinburgh Fringe 2025 will carry forward the missions from its pandemic mould, offering fresh and exciting content for viewers, while championing new writing and putting artists at its centre. Noteworthy creatives appearing at the Shed this Fringe include Jayde Adams, Mark Watson, Marlow and Moss (the Tony Awardwinning duo behind the hit musical Six), recent Olivier Award winner Maimuna Memon, Deborah Frances-White (host of The Guilty Feminist), and Fringe favourites Sh!t Theatre. We can expect the usual concoction of theatre, stand-up, and music that Shedinburgh and the Edinburgh Fringe have become known for: ‘Shed Originals’ as well as ‘Shed Shows’, which are ‘unplu ed’ revivals of previous Fringe hits. Performances such as Jayde Adams: How To Lose and Not Cry, are currently sold out. However, a limited number of tickets may become available approximately 24 hours before each show. Otherwise, all Shed performances offer a pay-what-you-can option, making the venue more accessible to theatregoers in general.
Responding to concerns about the Edinburgh Fringe’s inaccessibility and exclusivity, Shedinburgh is committed to putting artists first. It will continue the tradition of Shedx panels and Q&As, completely free of charge, and also guarantee living wages to all creatives bringing shows to the Shed, providing a safety net that is all too rare at modern-day festivals. Shedinburgh covers artists’ travel and accommodation expenses too, and offers an artist pass for 10% discounts on all food and drink available at the venue. An annual Fringe first-timer fund of £5,000, the Shedload of Futures Fund, also accompanies Shedinburgh 2025, which Francesca Moody Productions intends to continue for the foreseeable future. By night, an intimate 100-seat venue for ‘unplu ed, up-close, and unforgettable’ shows, by day, a cafe/ bar hangout spot for people to meet, collaborate, and create, the Shed is an artist-first concept intended as a reimagination of the exhausted Fringe model, and in this way, an intervention. Whether this lockdown experiment turned practical intervention has longevity remains to be seen – whether the Shedinburgh Fringe is a driver of positive change that creates more than ripples across the Edinburgh Fringe, but causes more and more venues to follow in its footsteps. What I do know is that it could not come at a more pivotal moment in the Fringe’s history; its potential is nothing less than a shedload of good.
Shed makes its home at the Wee Red Bar at the Edinburgh College of Art.
Gary McNair
Image: courtesy of Shedinburgh
Theatre Maketh Man
Perhaps it has become necessary to tell stories about a better masculinity, because the classics are no longer good enough
Words: Gabriel von Spreckelsen
Recently I directed a play called The Stag and the Hound. When we first meet our protagonist, he seems the perfect lad: slightly lairy yet stable and engaged, until he wakes up caked in blood. The play then unpeels the influences which transform a man into an unrecognisable monster.
Back in 2021, when toxic masculinity was a buzzphrase, I wrote myself a little feminist manifesto, as all new-minted grownups do. (Right?!) And, although I knew the manosphere considered toxic masculinity a virtue, I essentially dismissed it as doomed to eat itself. But, as anyone who’s heard of the Southport stabbings or Netflix’s Adolescence is aware, the manosphere is where men become monsters, and the monsters are mobilising.
“I think young people probably make a digital personality for themselves, and that starts to take control over their real self,” says Alex Hill, Gen-Z creator of Why I Stuck a Flare Up My Arse for England. “People used to have a digital footprint, but now it’s like you have a real-life footprint; so at some point these algorithms push manosphere culture into reality.”
What the manosphere excels at is glorifying
a story of masculinity which is tortured, sexist and narrowly-defined, overblowing men’s capacity for violence, strength and horniness to make up a whole, finite personality.
And is it any wonder that’s the story? When our culture’s textbook man is portrayed as a petulant vigilante who nevertheless gets the girl and destroys infrastructure for ‘the greater good’, according to him? (I’m looking at you, Superman – fans, please don’t hate me.) We may have had 2,500 years of male-centric storytelling, but Hercules, Hamlet and Harry Potter are arrestingly generic characters, dating from a time when ‘male’ remained the narrative default. Nowadays, we can point to as incongruous a group of heroes as Elphaba, Fleabag and Bluey and call them each women; but collect some incongruous men like P.T. Barnum, Stanley Kowalski and Evan Hansen, and most of us will consider one ‘less of a man’ than the others.
As Hill observes, identifying some canonical ideal of masculinity is both boring and inaccurate, as no one portrayal of masculinity will ring true for everyone. He says: “We’d be better off opening our palette to different things – that brings a healthier balance of ‘the man’.”
'In the same way that feminism redefined femininity, we must redefine masculinity in opposition to the patriarchy and gender exploitation'
So if the toxic masculinity is one story, then stories can be the antidote. Choreographer Natasha Gilmore’s show Wee Man stretches and redraws the boundaries of masculinity without once losing identity. She points out that “women have feminism as a way to redefine what femininity is; we have the concept. Men don’t have an equivalent, and the voice for supporting a way forward has been hijacked by unhelpful, criminal women-haters. Boys need healthier versions of masculinity which are more holistic, moving forward to a masculinity where emotional honesty, support and kindness are allowed, and still with a strength in them.”
In the same way that feminism redefined femininity, we must redefine masculinity in opposition to the patriarchy and gender exploitation. And I think the place to do that is theatre, from where all our stories come.
While stories making masculinity an inclusive, non-violent and constructive identity are to be applauded, we must also recognise that masculinity does not exist in a vacuum. Hence I slightly begrudge new American SIX-for-boys show, World’s Greatest Lover, for omitting Sappho, The Wife of Bath and Héloïse d’Argenteuil from the lineup – even if I’m missing the point.
And while we redefine masculinity for a better society, we must never do so to the exclusion of female and non-binary experiences, which have only just joined the cultural conversation. If the bombshell of Netflix’s Adolescence has taught us anything, it’s the enormous cultural resonance of stories, and we all bear responsibility for which ones we choose to perpetuate or exclude.
Why I Stuck a Flare Up My Arse for England, Underbelly Bristo Square, 30 Jul-25 Aug (not 11), 2.15pm Wee Man, DanceBase, 5-17 Aug (not 11), 7pm
We speak to Niall Moorjani, the storyteller behind Kanpur: 1857, a darkly comic play based on actual events
Iwondered if you could start off by telling me a bit about the inspiration behind the play?
The play explores the 1857 uprising in Kanpur, India, which was part of a series of quite intensified spates of violence from Indian Rebels towards the British Colonial forces. It’s a story that mattered a lot to me because it’s Indian history – and I’m half Indian – and also part of British/Scottish history. I felt compelled to start writing about it and to explore a fictionalised moment of something very real.
Why were you drawn to the medium of theatre to tell this story?
I think it’s that capacity [of theatre] to transport people to places that aren’t immediately obvious to them. My character, an Indian rebel, is strapped to a cannon and is being interrogated. So you can take the audience on this journey, where they are exposed to this story of colonial oppression and violence that is nuanced and presented in a different way. You get to challenge people’s ideas of what colonialism is, and looks like, which maybe helps them join the dots differently.
Speaking of joining the dots, do you think there is an awareness gap in the UK – and specifically here in Scotland – about the role we played in colonialism? Oh, profoundly. It is very important to me that the British officer is a descendant of Highlanders who went through the Clearances. For me in Scotland, we have not even begun to accept our role in colonialism. Something we are incapable of squaring is the fact that we disproportionately benefited from the [British] Empire. As somebody who grew up with an immense amount of racism as a mixed person, to be hit with, ‘But there’s no racism here,’ and ‘We were the oppressed ones, not the oppressors,’ is immensely frustrating. I am Scottish, but it doesn’t mean we can’t accept that part of who we are. It’s worth confronting our actual past as opposed to a mythologised version of it.
A reckoning with empire is clearly a key focal point of the play. Are there any other messages you’d like an audience to take away?
At this particular moment in history, the immense nuance that comes with the human condition. The British officer in the play is not a straightforwardly evil, cartoonish villain. He’s representative of a far more accurate version of the past. In our day-today lives, some of the bi est monsters we have aren’t necessarily James Bond villains. They’re in our everyday lives. They’re in our politics. For me, trying to highlight that and trying to give that sense of nuance, as well as giving accuracy and rigour to this moment in history, felt really important.
Did the writing process help you tap into that nuance? What did you learn from it?
I learned that theatre is this immensely flexible, durable, brilliant space in which you can bring in so
Words: Mary Walker
“In our day-to-day lives, some of the bi est monsters we have aren’t necessarily James Bond villains. They’re in our everyday lives. They’re in our politics”
Niall Moorjani
many different ideas and distil them into something hopefully very entertaining. I’ve learned more about myself and my own sense of morality, and sitting in the messiness, and the nuance and the complexities of what I think is right and wrong. I’ve also learned, quite horribly, just how repetitive colonialism is, and [have seen] the parallels with what is happening in Gaza. But even though it is horrific, painful and terrible it is also absurd. And absurdity deserves mockery. And this play is very funny.
How else would you describe the play?
I would say it is explosive, darkly comic, and thoughtprovoking. But at its core, it is about a person telling their story – it’s not purely documenting a process of oppressed people throwing off oppressors. It’s so much more multifaceted than that. My character is also in love with a hijra, who we would (by Western standards) consider to be trans. So, a trans love story is also at the heart of everything.
Does that detail feel significant?
The more we can normalise these stories the
better. I mean, at the moment, it’s not normalising, we’re challenging. But it is totally plausible that my character would have fallen in love with a hijra. So someone might disagree with it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not historically accurate or true.
What are your hopes for this play as we look ahead to August?
Obviously, I’d be lying if I said reviews don’t matter. I’d be lying if I said what the industry thinks doesn’t matter. But the notion that you can make something that, as a person of colour, other people of colour can come and see and hopefully feel represented by or inspired by is a huge driving force. The ability to make work that challenges British or Scottish versions of colonialism, particularly pertaining to India – I feel immensely privileged to have that platform.
Kanpur: 1857, Pleasance Courtyard Beneath, 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 12 or 13) @ 3.40pm, £10-15
ORPHEUS & EDINBURGH INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL & QUEENSLAND’S PRODUCTION IN ASSOCIATION 20:00, 13 & 15 AUGUST
ASSEMBLY GEORGE SQUARE: STUDIO ONE 11:30, 30 JULY - 25 AUGUST
FLICK MAD NUN PRODUCTIONS SUMMERHALL RED LECTURE THEATRE 16:45, 31 JULY - 25 AUGUST
EURYDICE& OPERA AUSTRALIA PRESENT OPERA ASSOCIATION WITH CIRCA EDINBURGH AUGUST / 15:00, 16 AUGUST
LADY MACBETH PLAYED WING DEFENCE CRASH THEATRE CO ASSEMBLY GEORGE SQUARE: STUDIO ONE 16:15, 30 JULY - 25 AUGUST
ORPHEUS & EURYDICE
MICHELLE PEARSON
UNDERBELLY BRISTO SQ, FRESIAN 18:50, 30 JULY - 10 AUGUST
EDINBURGH INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL & OPERA AUSTRALIA PRESENT OPERA QUEENSLAND’S PRODUCTION IN ASSOCIATION WITH CIRCA EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE 20:00, 13 & 15 AUGUST / 15:00, 16 AUGUST
YOU’RE AN INSTRUMENT! THE PLEASANCESONICRATS TWO 10:30, 30 JULY - 25 AUGUST
Art-Comedy
With alternative comedy heading into the mainstream more and more, have Su Mi, Rosa Garland and Ellen Turnill Montoya stumbled upon the new alternative-alternative comedy?
“Okay I’m just talking on a mic... but what if I come in with a shark head?
That’ll be better, no?” says Su Mi, who brings THISMOTHERPHUCKER to the Fringe. Sitting in the alternative comedy realm, Su describes their work as ‘anti-clown’, a term they coined to express their “anarchical feeling” towards the clown comedy genre that is everywhere at the festival. They’ve also played with performance art, drag and have a BA in Fine Art.
To them, clown is “an art form which I love in my own personal way, but it has a lot of systemic issues tied with it, be that it is represented mostly in the comedy world by white, thin, able-bodied people. I’m not that at all. I’m a chubby Asian person in a skin-tight morph suit. Which I feel is pretty punk in itself.”
Primal Bog, “a clown and live art mashup” from Rosa Garland, sounds similarly punk. It’s “a disgusting, grotesque but hopefully beautiful journey into the depths of sexual shame, desire, undoing, and taboo around our desires.” And if treading the line between those two genres and discussions of kink and sexual shame weren’t radical enough, Rosa’s getting tattooed on stage every day as part of her show too.
Completing our trio is Ellen Turnill Montoya, who leans heavily into the visual art side of artcomedy. “I started out doing pretty typical standup, which I feel is the classic visual art journey too – you’ve got to start drawing a bowl of fruit to understand the rules first before it turns into a full-blown abstract installation.” She then turned to improv, clown and bouffon for her comedy fix, before starting to merge visual art with her comedy. It all clicked for Ellen when she was “doing a strip tease to Chaka Khan’s I’m Every Woman, revealing different illustrated women over my body and clothes and changing the lyrics to match.”
Ellen’s comedy is visual, front and centre. Her debut show, Mr Handsome, started life as a sketch. “I was trying to work out what this idea or character was and first made a series of illustrations that turned into WhatsApp stickers I could send to my friends. He started life as a little hand character doing a high five, a thumbs up,” and is now Ellen on stage dressed as a giant hand.
Both Rosa and Su come at their comedy with a visual art brain too. “An image will pop into my head and I’ll be like ‘how do I create that?’ but I think as a performer, I’m a bit more wired to stress when I don’t get a laugh,” says Rosa. “I’m
Words: Polly Glynn
hard-wired from my clown training and doing clowning to be like ‘Err, they didn’t laugh, they hate me, they hate me.’ So I come at it from that brain first I think, and over the process of this show I’m learning to embrace this spaciousness with the audience.”
For Su, “Sometimes the comedy comes later,” and it’s the visual that strikes. Recently, they bought a bin lid to make something funny with, and now there’s a table involved as well. “I don’t want to give too much away but it might involve eating my head.” Count us in!
One of their bi est inspirations comes from the fine art world. For their art foundation course, Su dressed up as neighbours on their street, adopted their personalities and recorded it. “One time I dressed up like this really old man on our street (I hope he’s still alive), and I was in the garden. My mum opened the curtains and started screaming, so I started screaming. I burst into the house because I thought ‘something has obviously happened, let me try and help’ and scared her even more.” The penny dropped and the pair fell into fits of laughter. “So Tracey Emin made me do that. Thanks Tracey.”
Finding cult comic Emo Phillips at a young age was also a revelation. “I remember looking at him thinking, ‘What a freak. He looks like me. I like him!’ I literally wanted to be a comedian since I was 15 and he was the first inspo I got.” Su also cites some classic alt comedy too: “I watched The Goodies, Mighty Boosh, Monty Python, they were the OGs of freaky stuff, and comedy intertwined with art as well.”
Rosa’s key influences share an unlikely common theme: stunt. First is Austrian choreographer and performance artist Florentina Holzinger. Famed for bringing body horror to ballet with nudity, meat hooks and motorbikes (that’s just her work, Tanz), she pushes bodies to their limits while making her audience laugh. “She definitely doesn’t do comedy shows, but they are funny, they have a lot of humour in them,” Rosa says. “I saw [Tanz] just at the start of this Primal Bog process. I already knew that I wanted to make a clown show about kink and that was one of the inciting incidents for moving the show forward.”
And on the other end of the stunt spectrum are Steve-O and his wild mates. “It’s really funny cos there’s quite extensive academic writing about Jackass in the performance arts space which I love.” The big dumb pranks are appealing (“I love a classic Portaloo being swung around with someone inside”), but for Rosa, “the one that made me the most stressed or gave me the bi est reaction was when Steve-O got pulled along as bait in front of a mako shark.” As a self-confessed shark nerd, she was worried for their safety. “‘Guys, mako
Ellen Turnill Montoya as Mr Handsome
Su Mi
Photo: Rob Trendy
Photo: Paul Gilbey
sharks are the fastest shark’,” she exclaimed to her friends, deadly seriously.
There’s a similar slapstick element to one of Ellen’s influences. “My main love and inspiration is, was, always has been, always will be, Jim Henson and The Muppets.” Jackass’s big high five prank and Miss Pi y’s karate chops feel like two sides of the same coin. “I can’t remember a time without them in my life. At the moment, my favourite era is the original 1970s show monster skits. Surreal and weird, but always warm.” She’s also inspired by SNL player and one-time Fringer Sarah Squirm (“her gross out and garish world made me realise you could really do [comedy] in your own way”), while citing ex-SNL-er Julio Torres as “the most exciting comedic voice” right now. “As a British-Mexican myself – seeing a surreal comedic world (and in SPANGLISH!) was, and is, so incredible and liberating.”
But in the creation of Mr Handsome, Ellen’s bi est inspiration is big-headed buffoon, Frank Sidebottom. “I went to an exhibition of Frank and all the visual world around him a few years ago in Manchester and it blew my mind (an image from that show has been my phone lock screen until this day). Not only the character, but the extended illustrated everything that he exists within.” Maybe one day Ellen will get to open for Bros at Wembley Arena on their next reunion tour too.
Fusing art with comedy isn’t a new thing, just look at Vic Reeves, Kim Noble, and Simon Munnery’s Cluub Zarathustra for starters, but it is interesting that it’s back thriving in those
alternative circles. But is it the alternative to the alternative?
It’s more about growing tired of plain old stand-up for Su. “Sitting through an hour of stand-up sometimes... I like when there’s more,” they say. “Unless there’s some sort of trinket or ornament, I just get bored.” The adornments which come with art-comedy seem to relieve the predictability of some comedy.
Rosa argues that the distinction between live art and comedy is particularly blurry, but “audiences are enjoying the kind of challenge that more live art comedy brings.” It brings high art into more accessible spaces and gives live art “a home in a place of sheer silliness... It’s sort of that high art and low art stuff together that tastes good as well.”
Ellen’s excited by the prospect of even more art in alternative comedy. “I think performance art comedy has always been the alternative-alternative comedy,” and with a growing number of nights and spaces to experiment, there are more “places to play with the unexpected.” She’s also very thoughtful about the visual art side of things: “Maybe what’s changing now is the access to design tools and the democratisation of that has enabled more people to express their ideas visually,” and credits that with her drive for Mr Handsome to be as hand-made as possible.
But however art-comedy falls within alternative comedy, Rosa puts it most succinctly. “I might get booted out the live art community for saying this, but isn’t it all just doing weird stuff at the end of the day?”
Like that, try these Problem? In 2023, Julia Masli narrowly lost out on the main Fringe comedy award with ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, a raucous, joyous and uplifting blend of comedy, clown and performance art. She’s back with a limited late(ish) night run of her brilliant show (11-24 Aug, Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome), 11.15pm, £18-20).
Although it’s technically in the theatre section, Sam Kissajukian’s 300 Paintings (31 Jul-25 Aug (not 12,19), Summerhall (Main Hall), 12.05pm, £10-17) is an exploration of the Aussie comedian’s mental state through, you’ve guessed it, 300 paintings, created in a six-month manic episode from an abandoned cake factory.
The creator of 2024’s cultiest Fringe show Mark Dean Quinn returns once more to Banshee Labyrinth after midnight (2-24 Aug, PBH’s Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth (Cinema Room), 01.50am, Free/PWYW). Last year’s show saw the comic eat reams of cheese in front of a rapt audience. Can it get any grater?
Su Mi: THISMOTHERPHUCKER, 31 Jul-24 Aug (not 12,19), Underbelly Cowgate (Iron Belly), 6.40pm, £8.50-12.50
Rosa Garland: Primal Bog, 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 12), Assembly Roxy (Downstairs), 9.50pm, £9-14
Ellen Turnill Montoya is Mr Handsome, 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 12,19), Assembly George Square Studios (Studio 4), 5.20pm, £8-12
Rosa Garland
Photo: Corinne Cumming
A Sober Fringe
The Edinburgh Fringe is a land of opportunity for many, but also a world of temptation. As more acts and punters turn to sobriety, we chat to five comics staying
sober this Fringe season
It’s no secret that a month’s residency at the Edinburgh Fringe is a behemoth of an operation. Even as a passing tourist, the Fringe can feel like a mammoth undertaking – one that can breed unsustainable habits, but it doesn’t have to be this way.
With temptation and opportunity seemingly at the fingertips at every turn, the idea of a sober Fringe, abstaining from the myriad of possibilities that Edinburgh can offer may feel daunting or even isolating – but it doesn’t have to be.
Sobriety at the Fringe needs addressing, and is being addressed. With more acts and punters making the move towards sobriety, both at the festival and outside of it, the dialogue surrounding it is starting to shift.
Liam Withnail, Fringe veteran, is 10 years sober and reflects on his years post-sobriety. “It is easy to see the Fringe as a performance outlet, but
it is also a trades center – it should be a sales pitch every night of you at your highest calibre –and that just isn’t possible if I’m crawling in at 7am each morning. Sobriety made me a better writer, it made me a better comedian.”
First-time Fringer Shamik Chakrabarti is trying his best to have a sober Fringe for exactly those reasons. “I’d like to put my best foot forward and not trip and fall on my face in the process.” With such a wealth of opportunity at the festival, be it performing, networking or creating, it can be easy to get carried away when there’s people, gigs and bars everywhere.
Whether you are fresh to sobriety, years into it or even see it as a passing interest – the prospect of battling the Fringe and all that comes with it can be daunting, but a phrase that is tenaciously reoccurring throughout the dialogue is a simple one: community.
Words: Cameron Wright
“I realise now, I was never going to meet every single person and be at every interesting event”
Liam Withnail
“Coffee dates are my everything now, talking about anything that isn’t the Fringe,” says Alex Stringer, who approaches her debut comedy show Happy Hour. Withnail, an Edinburgh resident doubles down: “Whatever the activity, be it climbing a hill, eating a curry or going wild water swimming – getting out there with people, staying social and staying connected is so important.”
Focusing on the daytime, Lulu Popplewell states, helps her remain grounded and engaged throughout her August run. “I have amassed a gang of people who want to play Catan or Monopoly Deal in Pleasance Dome or somewhere… If you told me that at 24, I would have been disgusted with myself, but now I honestly could not be more delighted.”
As Stringer points out, in recent years there has been a deliberate push in facilitating a community of acts that are sober throughout the Fringe, with many comics being part of a WhatsApp group dedicated to that. “The different group chats are perfect for supporting, helping and encouraging different people at different stages and making sure everyone has someone to talk to throughout the Fringe.”
One of the most daunting aspects of the festival is the excess of it all, both from an act’s perspective and as a punter. With all these opportunities thrust into one location, it can feel like every night and every second is important.
“The FOMO really got to me for a while,” admits Withnail, confessing “I thought I hadn’t done it properly if I wasn’t out each night meeting all the people and doing all the things – but I realise now, I was never going to meet every single person and be at every interesting event.” Now on her tenth sober Fringe experience, Popplewell concedes “nothing amazing is going to happen after 1am.”
“It’s all for show,” Withnail continues. “There’s that need to fill the diary with these Instagram moments, but there’s something much more fulfilling about waking up and making the most of the Fringe and giving it your best each night.”
Sobriety doesn’t have to mean missing out though; there’s a myriad of activities that you can delve into. Exploring Edinburgh’s many beautiful sights has been a mainstay attraction of travelers
Liam Withnail
Photo: Rebecca Need-Menear
presents
All-Night Trams
Make the most of a packed programme of events in the city with our weekend all-night services
“Got me home after midnight, five stars.”
Fringe Attendee
“Did you know they go to Leith now?”
Marketing Manager (Lives in Leith)
“Is this an actual Fringe show?”
Our Mums (confused but supportive)
Friday & Saturday nights during the Festivals 1 - 24 August 2025
visiting the capital year round, be it climbing Arthur’s Seat for a stunning look out over the city, walking through the vast Botanical Gardens, eating at any of the bakeries that cake the streets, or finding quiet little spots like The Dene (between Dean Village and Stockbridge) to hide away in.
But the Fringe brings with it so many exciting experiences that can be enjoyed sober too. As many acts pointed out, leaving out the booze leaves more space for seeing comedy or attending events.
“Back in the day when I was feeling selfconscious about not drinking I’d always love an activity. Karaoke is great for this! Olga Koch hosts karaoke during the festival at Monkey Barrel Comedy and it’s always iconic,” says Amelia Bayler, approaching her seventh sober Fringe.
Withnail is quick to point out the advancements of alcohol-free beer which are ever improving, with Popplewell adding “I remember the first year some venues started doing alcohol free beers and thinking ‘well this is great.’ I mean, they were disgusting – undrinkable – there wasn’t much then apart from Beck’s Blue, but the gesture was hugely appreciated.”
“I remember thinking sobriety would kill off my former self, remove the fun me. I assumed I’d be a shadow of the person people enjoyed, but I have loved reclaiming myself,” adds Stringer. “I was so surprised learning how feisty and fiery sober me is. She’s crazy! Being sober doesn’t mean being boring.”
The Fringe is undoubtedly a place of flashing lights and rare opportunities. And it may be worth noting that this can be experienced in any condition, but an important lesson is to take it at your own pace. Don’t let your Fringe experience be
dictated by anyone else’s and ensure you put yourself first.
For Stringer this involves batch cooking, having movie nights and coffee dates. Fellow comic Rachel Fairburn told her that the best way to treat the Fringe is to treat it as you would a normal day – go home and watch TV when you want to, see a friend if you’d like, but above all, it’s just another day.
As for Bayler, she places an emphasis on ‘listening to what keeps you sane’. “Whatever works for you is none of anyone’s business. If you need to eat five £2 pizza slices every day after your show (thus making it no longer a bargain) then that’s your thing.”
“Nothing amazing is going to happen after 1am”
Lulu
Popplewell
The important thing is to listen to yourself, knowing that you are in control. “Just go where you feel GOOD!” Bayler advises “Check in with yourself. I always have cigarettes, a vape, snacks, a can of Coke or all of the above! Those are my coping mechanisms and I don’t judge myself for them.”
Wherever you are at and whatever your goal is, the Fringe should be a place that champions variety and excites everyone. If that’s the club nights or if it’s the Cameo cinema as Bayler recommends, there are always ways to make the Fringe an experience that you can steer.
Creating a space where stru les and lifestyles are discussed has always been embedded deep into the DNA of what makes the Fringe so exciting. As a melting pot of cultures and diverse experiences, it’s no surprise that stories of race, sexuality and class are prime themes for shows.
Sobriety is no different, with many comics using the platform to address their whys and hows every night. Stringer’s debut, for example, is a celebration of sobriety, reclaiming her life and reaping the rewards.
The bottom line is simple, your Fringe is your own experience – it is a wonderful and unique world all unto itself, but you are still a human walking into that world. Listen to your body, listen to your heart and know that whatever experience you want, you are not alone.
Have an amazing Fringe, on your terms.
Liam Withnail: Big Strong Boy, Monkey Barrel (MB1), 29 Jul24 Aug (not 13), 6.10pm, £8-13
Shamik Chakrabarti: Despite Appearances, Gilded Balloon at Appleton Tower (Eve), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 11), 9pm, £9-13
Lulu Popplewell: Love Love, George Square (Buttercup), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 11), 6.45pm, £8.50-13
Amelia Bayler: I’m a Pop Star but I’m Working in a Burger Restaurant for Research Purposes (WIP), Monkey Barrel (MB2), 6 Aug, 4.20pm, £7
Amelia Bayler
Photo: Eamonn Martin
Letter to a Comedian
Jain Edwards and Andy Barr, two comedians who know the Fringe very well, write a note to themselves ahead of their respective returns to Edinburgh
Words: Jain Edwards and Andy Barr
Dear Jain,
Hey girl. I would love to see the show (I presume I would get guest list?)
Hope you have worked out the ending by now. And have learnt it of course. I know how hard you’ve worked on this show though and have no doubt in how much everyone will adore it.
I am so proud that you have finally learnt to pour your energy into yourself!! I am still getting to grips with how women are often socialised to give away so much of ourselves to those around us. This show is a testament to you unlearning that, in your habits and in your thoughts. To take more of a leap for yourself. And I know it’s so much harder when you have lived with a lot of scarcity in your life. After that, it is hard to invest in yourself in a way that can often seem frivolous, unnecessary.
This has been a very long journey. From your first tough gigs at 19, to missing out on going to an early Fringe with your peers because you had to move back to Rhyl and work on a caravan park. Those years of not being able to gig because your living conditions were so bad, you couldn’t think of much else. I still think of the bullying you had to put up with when you first started comedy. I’m really amazed that you pulled through everything that this industry has thrown at you and you are still here. You know this but everything was for the best. It has given you time to grow as a person and a comedian. It’s great to see you finally living a softer life, blooming and finally being able to dig deep and create the things that have lived inside you for so long. And it only gets better.
Good luck, Jain x
Dear Andy,
So you’re finally doing it – debuting again with your fourth show, after 15 years of performance, and three full runs of loose, narrative character comedy efforts. Lucky you can write those fluffy, youthful efforts off as the work of a different person – someone from a lifetime ago. Now you’re back – as you. Again. This time, though, it means something – doesn’t it? Or at least it did when it was a covert ode to a deceased friend. Now, of course, time has healed that wound and it seems cynical and disrespectful to open it up again, night on night, for a paying audience.
Still – you’ve got 40 minutes of solid gold stuff, so what if there’s no trauma at its core? I have faith that you’ll figure out a meaning to add a little weight to it and, if not, surely a show that’s simply funny is enough. We’ll see!
As far as the lifestyle is concerned, need I remind you that you no longer have the stamina you had in 2019? Your bones ache a little more, your hair is thinner, your face a little more drawn. For god’s sake, try and approach this year with some dignity. It’ll take you enough time to manoeuvre your creaking back from the washboard student mattress without a 4am in Brooke’s Bar hangover in the mix. And for goodness sake, do your gut a favour and eat like you’re not some sort of digestive masochist.
Repeat after me: gym, batch cook, early nights.
If you make it, I’ll see you in September for the resumption of your day job. Remember – nothing ever changes, except when it does.
Andy Barr: The Hotly Anticipated 4th Debut Hour from Rising Star, Andy BarrPleasance Courtyard (Cellar), 30 Jul-24 Aug (not 13), 8pm, £9-13
edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/andy-barr-the-hotly-anticipated-4th-debuthour-from-rising-star-andy-barr @catballbag on Instagram
Photo: Michael Mannion
Jain Edwards
Andy Barr
Photo: Michael Julings
Behind
Experimental comedy-makers Liebenspiel (aka Benjamin Alborough and Ellie BW) give us their origin story, what they’re up to this Fringe and who we should look out for this festival and beyond
Words: Polly Glynn
Tell me about Liebenspiel... Liebenspiel is a production company run by comedians Benjamin Alborough (Terry Wogan impersonator, Monopoly reinventor, marzipanophile) and Ellie BW (Scorpio, Caesar Salad lover, Sketch Off Winner 2023). We curate and programme seasons of alternative comedy. We like getting really hands-on with big, complicated ideas and making the kind of things that usually only happen at the Edinburgh Fringe happen UK-wide.
How did it come about?
Ben put an all-day comedy festival together at Bridge House Theatre Penge in August 2020. He and Ali Brice did a show called Risky Fizzness (attempting to carbonate things for an hour) and so the seeds were sown for the kind of thing Liebenspiel might do. We chatted properly for the first time afterwards, and two years later got the chance to programme a season at the Brighton Spiegeltent during their Fringe.
Also, one of the things that contemporary theatre makers are very good at doing is experimenting with format and style in a way that comedy should be doing more! As theatre kids ourselves, we want to facilitate that.
What was the first Liebenspiel project like?
That first Spiegeltent season was electric. Sometimes you just know when something works and that worked. Some of the best Cabaret Impedimentas ever happened in that tent.
What would be your dream Liebenspiel get?
The best thing about what we do is we often don’t know what we want until we have it.
Strange and totally unique one-off shows like A Young Man Dressed As A Gorilla Dressed As An Old Man etc have now become legendary, and we want to keep those spectacular-thing-you’ll-be kicking-yourself-for-missing ideas alive and thriving.
With Bedlam Late, we champion those one-off comedy experiences – out-there ideas that comedians may have daydreamed about but not had the time or space to do them, in a low stakes environment where you can let your creativity run wild. We hope to provide that – a stage, tech, no upfront artist costs, and encouragement to make ridiculous ideas a reality.
What’s been your bi est takeaway from running Liebenspiel?
The things that you think might make you money often don’t.
Creating risky work is the most important thing creatively, but also financially.
‘Safe’ doesn’t mean audiences come.
The falafel wrap at Palmyra is perfect. When bossman asks if you want salad and sauce, you say YES.
Who at the Fringe (and beyond) should we look out for?
Ben: Cerys Bradley. The Mayor and his Daughter. Sam Dodgshon & Stolen Table Collective. Su Mi. Nate Kitch. Ali Brice. Ben Volchok. Pat Cahill. A Night of Drama.
Ellie: Ada and Bron. Ayoade Bamgboye. Stepdads. Goblin by Derek Mitchell. Jain Edwards. Ozzy Algar. Knight, Knight. Cabbage the Clown. Betty Grumble. INBEDWITHMYBROTHER. Late night stuff at Paradise Palms. And loads more.
Who’s the funniest comedian you’ve seen and why?
Besides all our acts…
Ben: In 2019 Joshua Ladgrove, in character as Neil Portenza, in character as Joshua Ladgrove, gave a seminar on bilge pumps for an hour. I saw it three times and even bought the t-shirt (still in my regular rotation).
Ellie: A guy telling one-liners about cars for five minutes at an average Brighton Open Mic. Unless you knew every make and model of every car ever, there was no way you could understand any of the jokes. He rattled through them, laughing to himself after every one to complete silence, except me and my friend howling. His dedication was incredible and I’m so sure every joke was expertly crafted, but I had no idea what was going on. That mixture of craft and bewilderment is what I HUNGER for.
What’s next for Liebenspiel?
We’re at the Fringe with a heap of great shows: Andy Barr’s presenting his ‘fourth debut’ hour, Soft Play are doing a sketch show about double acts, Sean Morley has a WIP, Mr Cardboard returns for a limited run, there’s two nights of Hot Rubber, Terry Wogan is back from the dead, Absolute Monopoly rides again. And of course we have our tightly curated Bedlam Late programme (funded by Keep It Fringe). Full lineup over @liebenspiel on Instagram.
That programme launched as a Skinny exclusive – you can find our lineups of experimental mixed bill weirdness here (Bedlam Theatre, 00.30am every weekend). This year The Glang Show and Kink Shame Show are back alongside brand new ideas like Appetite for Destruction, a live cooking show, and a Lorna Rose Treen/Jonathan Oldfield hosted gig called One Joke where the plan is to book over 40 comedians, have them tell a single joke onstage and then leave. We’ve just approved the budget for 25 party cannons.
Portrait of an Erased Estate
At Edinburgh Printmakers, Aqsa Arif subverts the famous Sony Bravia ‘Paint’ advert that was filmed in her childhood council flat. Our Art Editor considers the necessity for creative expression in the face of growing threats to social housing
Aqsa Arif jogs my memory. It’s 2004, and in a flash between The Simpsons and Hollyoaks, a shot of grey, high-rise concrete buildings, scattered with litter and an abandoned shopping trolley pans. Out of thin air, the number four shaped out of concrete tetris emerges like some sort of miracle, an intervention penetrating the shameful, staged remnants of life. My mum, sitting next to me, shouts “That’s where I grew up!” I think that it’s pretty cool that my mum is represented on the tele in some shape or form and tell everyone and anyone who listens that Channel 4 thought my mum, and her upbringing, her accent, her ideas, were special.
Aqsa Arif jogs my memory and makes me think twice about that Channel 4 ident, filmed on the Aylesbury Estate, South London. Did Channel 4 class that as community outreach? Or was the intention to communicate that their broadcasts were out of reach to those who grew up on the Aylesbury estate? Too clever, too miraculous.
Unlike the ident su ests, my mum’s childhood was full of colour. For one, she was the proud owner of a tortoise called Humphrey, and while she was left to her own devices, she decided to brand him with his name in yellow paint. But his shell wasn’t quite big enough for all those letters, and after a failed attempt at hyphenation, she
coloured him all in. My nan, despite her own impulses to paint everything she owned to give new coats of life, was appalled at the discovery of Humphrey’s luminous makeover. Rest assured, Humphrey was cleaned up and relocated to a tortoise sanctuary. He’s probably still alive somewhere, munching lettuce, unaware of the stubborn bits of graffiti stuck in the crevices of his shell. If we were to read this story through the classist cultural imaginary, Humphrey is an exceptional tortoise because he ‘escaped’ the Aylesbury Estate – just as my mum did.
“In the continued displacement and splintering of working-class communities, residents have little to no say in where to next”
Words: Rachel Ashenden
How much paint does it take to paint a tortoise’s shell? A sample pot would do, perhaps. How much paint does it take to flood a council estate in the colours of the rainbow? 70,000 litres. In 2006, two years after the first broadcast of that Channel 4 ident, Sony Bravia chose Prospecthill Circus in Toryglen, Glasgow, as its working-class canvas for a marketing feat. Constructed in the 1960s, the estate once comprised three tower blocks and maisonettes, though today it is nowhere to be found.
Before she was an artist but while her ideas were brewing, young Arif lived on the sixth floor of Queen’s Court, a 23-story high-rise at 24 Crossbank Road in Prospecthill Circus, with her mum and five siblings. As a child, Arif remembers living with an unrelenting feeling of unease and a cohesive obligation to express gratitude while her family waited in limbo for British citizenship after migrating from Pakistan. Emergency suitcases, packed by her mum, were always within reach. Mental maps of the estate were shaped and swapped, directing Arif where not to walk or when not to go out, her family’s safety cordoned off by racist violence and sectarianism. Solace was found in connecting with those who were also unable to work or chose their own home, and sometimes, in the community arts and crafts sessions that took place on the ground floor.
Asbestos lived within Prospecthill Circus; perhaps it was made to feel more welcome than the refugees and asylum seekers, who were targeted as scapegoats for the estate’s problems. Like so many council housing estates built in the rush to house baby boomers and to clear slum areas, it was determined that Prospecthill Circus was not worth repairing, instead fated to a short-sighted cycle of demonisation, demolition and regeneration – just as Margaret Thatcher dreamed. In the widespread and continued displacement and splintering of working-class communities, residents have little to no say in where to next.
As an alternative to Queen’s Court, Arif’s family – which, remember, comprises seven people – were offered a one-bedroom flat in Glasgow’s Red Road Flats just nine years prior to that very estate’s own demolition. Pushing through the threat of deportation, it was Arif’s mum who stood up to the council and demanded more room for her children to grow. Consequently, they were relocated to a neighbouring flat in Toryglen. But the demolition of the Red Road flats in 2015 served as warning: no one can expect to be settled for too long.
Image: courtesy of Aqsa Arif
Aqsa Arif, Pittering, A Pattering of Paint Digital print (2025)
In between the stages of demonisation and demolition of Prospecthill Circus, residents vacated, and Sony waltzed in to film a 70-second advert. With a budget of two million, and a crew of 250 directed by Jonathan Glazer, Sony detonated paint in all directions across the estate to the backing of The Thieving Magpie by Gioachino Rossini. While there’s no narrative, a clown with a painted grin storms on screen for precisely one second – perhaps he’s the one who pulled the tri er. After filming, the clean-up job took five days and sixty people, and something I can’t quite stomach is that a playpark was assembled purely for the visuals, then disassembled as soon as they called it ‘a wrap’. The year following the advert’s premiere, Arif watched her block implode from a friend’s 20th floor flat. Spectacle after spectacle.
Now, Arif is a full-time artist – the first in her family, though not the last. She makes art in the ‘right’ kind of hi-rise – business-like and sleek – organised by Edinburgh Printmakers Spaces, a charitable cause that means rent is never due. Inside, her studio is an explosion of colour in preparation for her exhibition. Giant braids of jet-black hair intertwined with ribbon guard Arif’s portfolio from that of the other studio holders. The hair is where her rebuttal begins.
Raindrops of Rani – the film that gives Arif’s exhibition its name – opens with a mother, Heera, oiling her daughter Sohni’s hair in a Glasgow council flat. Heera’s character has been borrowed from Heer Ranjha, a tragic romance passed down through Punjabi folklore that shares narrative similarities to Romeo and Juliet, Arif explains. What was once a tragic conclusion is reframed as a narrative threshold, creating space for the character’s emergence in a different context that, while seemingly distant, is historically entangled through colonialism. In this retelling, Heera and Sohni have been displaced from Pakistan to the council estate due to floods caused by British colonial control of infrastructure, which continues to worsen from climate change. A familiar coming-of-age arc can then be traced: a daughter pulls away from her mother to discover her own identity, only to later realise the love and pain in how she was raised. Throughout, the mother-daughter relationship is touchingly personal yet chimerical, with dialogue borrowed from Arif’s childhood: “Be careful on the way home, and don’t take the shortcut,” Heera tells Sohni, as Arif’s mum once advised her.
The one-second shot of a clown in the Sony advert becomes an astute narrative departure point in Raindrops of Rani. Arif renders visible the otherwise invisible mechanism of state bureaucracy through a circus of clowns who roam the estate, seemingly thriving off the power to deport and displace. For Heera, the threat of multiple displacement looms large; her agoraphobia and coulrophobia – fear of clowns – consequently grow out of control, along with her Rapunzel hair.
Meanwhile, Sohni – whose name is a homophonic jab at Sony – transforms into a clown as she comes of age, a kind of assimilation that satirises the structural pressure to conform or play a role that suppresses diasporic expression. Ultimately, through compromise and sacrifice, Sohni saves Heera, who in turn saves Sohni from drowning in paint by severing her hair.
I replay a sequence of Raindrops of Rani: a clown who haunts the estate serves Heera an eviction notice in a rainbow envelope, forcing the taped letterbox open with a grin. In drippy PR spin, it reads: “Your home is about to make history – One final, breathtaking spectacle of colour, like no other!” Arif’s home made history, and it no longer exists. In part, the set for Raindrops of Rani was built within a green screen studio because Arif’s home, which made history, no longer exists. But the green screen technique further allowed the artist to draw on the heightened visual language of Bollywood, evoking dreamlike flashbacks that recall Heera’s life prior to displacement. In doing so, Arif has created her own breathtaking spectacle like no other.
Raindrops of Rani ruptures an aching void in the public record left behind by former residents of Prospecthill Circus, whose voices have been overshadowed by a marketing miracle. Where there are gaps in the artist’s fraying childhood memories, she turns to fantasy, the surreal and nostalgia, curbing the questions for her family to avoid reopening old wounds. In her own hunt for stories, Arif makes art to express a closeness with her mum, who, in turn, sews for her daughter’s films, such as the long braids of Heera’s hair.
Aqsa Arif jogs my memory and reminds me that the Aylesbury Estate is pending demolition, and I haven’t asked my mum enough questions about her upbringing and her ideas.
Aqsa Arif: Raindrops of Rani, Edinburgh Printmakers, WedSun until 2 Nov, 10am-6pm
Part of Edinburgh Art Festival
edinburghprintmakers.co.uk
Photo: Talha Imam
Aqsa Arif, Raindrops of Rani
ROBERTSON
Open Studio
Every Saturday during Edinburgh Art Festival, Olivia Priya Foster will open up their studio to the public. We caught up with the artist about slow making, queer rurality and their works-in-progress
Olivia Priya Foster thinks of ontology, often. Their interdisciplinary practice concerns itself with how their being is related to that of the world around them. In particular, that world is rooted in the rural, responding to Foster’s childhood on a sheep farm in Argyll, as a queer artist of colour.
This year, Foster is here, there, and everywhere – and so too is their practice. Spring saw Foster win The Skinny Prize, as part of their work in RSA New Contemporaries. In July, we speak over a mildly glitchy video call while they’re on residency at Cove Park. This month, August, they return to their Glasgow studio and continue to settle into their new Edinburgh studio, provided for six months as part of Edinburgh Art Festival and Outer Spaces’ HOST residency. In October, they’ll take their practice to Sweeney’s Bothy for one week, as the recipient of the Visual Arts Scotland Residency 2025. One year out of art school and the Scottish art scene has called it, loud and clear: Foster is undoubtedly an emerging artist to watch.
“Growing up on a farm, most of the projects that you see take decades to complete”
Working from their laptop has been helpful during these months on the move. “Usually my work is born from collecting sounds and video, and then the installation element is built from byproducts of the film or material and objects that refer to the themes within the film and the audio work,” they say. For Foster, returning to Argyll usually demands a return to farm work; their residency at Cove Park has allowed them to spend time with their artistic practice in their home area.
Graduating with a BA in Painting and Printmaking from the Glasgow School of Art last year, Foster’s confidence in performance and installation work is somewhat unexpected. “I could never just automatically respond to a project or theme with paint,” says Foster, reflecting on the joy of the school’s open-ended degree boundaries. “I always wanted there to be a relationship between the themes in my work and the material that it’s realised with.” Foster’s RSA New Contemporaries work Black Sheep (2025), for instance, sees Hebridean sheep wool draped across painting stretchers; a sound recording – collected audio from their family’s farm – plays from within the tent-like structures. Displacing natural materials subverts their very use and our perspective of such use.
“Usually, if I’m working with landscape, a way of getting material or using material in land will no doubt involve my labour,” says Foster. Capturing this labour on camera transforms it into a performance. These dual possibilities of a singular act excite the artist. For Foster, performance art does not demand an audience of thousands; the intimacy of their work is largely owing to a grounding in such home truths. Nor is performance the end result, brought into being at a prosecco-thirsty gallery opening; rather, performance is part of the process. Viewing their work through this lens of labour – both racialised and gendered – allows the artist to widen the scope of that very work. “Where does my intervention as the artist begin and end?” Foster remembers planting grass as a child; now, in their practice, that same grass grounds their recorded performances.
“Growing up on a farm, most of the projects that you see take decades to complete,” continues Foster. A similar acceptance grounds Foster’s work: they want a slow practice, one that takes its time to blossom. Fast fashion, Foster believes, has an artistic counterpart – poorly considered work, devoid of depth, is produced with commercial wins in mind. It is made, displayed, and packed away after meeting an audience once (or twice, if it’s lucky). Rather, Foster views their practice as one extended body of work. Recent considerations upon water cycles – how rivers separate land, who
Words: Eilidh Akilade
has the right to the land – are not distinct from their practice to date. For now, exhibiting is not front of mind; rather, Foster is sowing seeds. Edinburgh Art Festival and Outer Spaces’ HOST Residency is integral to this period of growth. Every Saturday during the festival, the early-career artists welcome visitors into their studios. For Foster, it’s a fruitful opportunity: an open studio allows for open conversations. Outwith the confines of art school, such discussions with audiences are hard to come by – and therefore so too are the associated teachings. An artist’s developing practice is usually reserved for private studio visits and unseen funding applications; for an audience, playing witness to these early stages is a rare pleasure. Works-in-progress are works of art, all the same.
“I really want my work to be really accessible and not just appeal to, you know, a specific crowd, or an institutionalised crowd,” says Foster. Commercial art has its merits but Foster’s heart lies with community-based art. “There’s nothing about my work that’s really traditional.”
Coming to the end of our discussion, I ask Foster if there’s anything else they’d like to note. “Free Palestine.”
Olivia Priya Foster, Studio, works in progress (2025)
Photo: Craig R MacIntosh
Fierce Tenderness
As Linder Sterling’s A kind of glamour about me is set to open Edinburgh Art Festival, Emerging Writer Peilin Shi reviews the performance’s otherworldly premiere at Mount Stuart
Inside the thoughtfully partitioned architecture of Mount Stuart, Linder stages a performance of glamour. Audiences gather around three sides of the central hall, seated in backed chairs. From the moment the performers crawl in from the margins of the stage, or gaze down from the upper balcony, we begin to lean forward, watching, guessing, interpreting. What are the performers thinking? What are they trying to convey? But this is never about answers. The piece unfolds as an open-ended exploration of intuitive risk and attentive care.
Mount Stuart, with its expansive scale and historic aura, becomes an active participant, being referenced and re-scripted within another cultural power structure. The corridors, colour palette, light, and live soundscape form the ecosystem for what is going to happen. This interplay gives the work its particular charge of site-specificity.
The sound score initiates the performance, giving momentum. Soon it recedes into the periphery, becoming an undercurrent that subtly pulls the performers’ rhythm, drawing out the exchange between bodies and this architectural space. Among the four performers, a deeply embodied relation emerges. Their motions ripple like droplets across the surface of a still lake. Barely audible movements gradually stir the vaulted space, they engage in a non-verbal dialogue, moving like four constantly shifting atoms, pulling, retreating, listening, mimicking, colliding, pausing, reacting, attacking, surrendering. Responsive in the most instinctive sense, in this vast, squared chamber, the performers break stasis when introducing disorder into order, contingency into movements that are heard and seen.
Every rise and fall enacts a kind of rebirth, a cycle of deconstructing and regenerating, of endless waves and returns. Boundaries blur between violence and protection, a ression and care, pause and momentum, release and demise. Different denotations co-exist within the same stroke, a hand extended might be to kill or to cradle. Meaning is shaped by its affective charge and other existences that receive it. Each gesture becomes a slice of experience, a moment of concealment, a fleeting internal projection. Metaphors and relations shift rapidly but never disrupt the cohesion, tension is contained rather than released, the performance holds together with gentleness and clarity.
It navigates a dual aesthetic logic. Its ‘antiquity’ lies in the symbolic imagery. Feathers, scales, forests, galaxies, burning stars; cosmological in scale, refusing the centrality of the human. Its ‘modernity’ is tactile, unstable, fluid. Layered textures, fragmented narrative, sensuous materiality. The body becomes both medium and message. Grandeur it confronts not, but presents with radical sincerity.
Changyi the goddess of moon governs the months through the moon’s cycle, not through control; Xihe the mother of sun does not create the sun, but guides it across the sky. In Taoism, one must stop listening with the ears or with the mind. Falling into the gap between perception and reality, everything appears to us with infinity yet we are limited. The only approach to grasp the truth is to let go. This improvisational montage results in a fragmental yet coherent psychological map, and the acts manifest a cultivated permeability. It uncovers shared grains and invisible connections, cleanses doors of perception through recalibration; vulnerability is revealed without spectacle.
‘This improvisational montage results in a fragmental yet coherent psychological map’
When the sound and action cease, the experience extends into the concurrent exhibition, where Linder’s new series of collages respond to rarely seen archival images from Mount Stuart’s collection. As in the performance, these works re-narrate, often through a feminist lens. Her signature photomontage practice reclaims what has been aestheticised into disappearance, or rendered illegible. Hiding in exposure, feeling safe in exa eration. In an era where collage is a saturated aesthetic trope, Linder’s collaging is strategic, maintaining a sharply personal vocabulary. Just like a slight shift in the weight of the rain, the size of sea snails’ call, the brightness of lining, just enough to anchor the opinions.
And perhaps this debut is a prelude. Through collage, embodied practice, and spatial dialogue, Linder opens a broader inquiry: heritage, feminist corporeality, posthuman perspectives, botanical consciousness, the politics of care and visibility. After this debut, one cannot help but wonder: what will happen when this work meets another space, another ecosystem? What new resonances might ripple through another forest, across another lake? What she offers is not resolution, but an invitation to cross the perceptual threshold, into a terrain where fierce emotion and careful construction coexist.
And perhaps that, too, is a form of glamour.
Linder’s exhibition at Mount Stuart, A kind of glamour about me, continues until 31 Aug. Open daily, 11.30am-4pm
The second iteration of the improvised performance, A kind of glamour about me, takes place on 7 Aug, Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh. The performance coincides with the exhibition, Linder: Danger Came Smiling, also at the Royal Botanic Garden, until 19 Oct, open daily, 10.30am-4.30pm
Part of Edinburgh Art Festival
Words: Peilin Shi
Linder, A kind of glamour about me Mount Stuart, 2025
THE IMMERSIVE NIGHTCLUB MUSICAL WHERE THE NIGHT IS ALWAYS YOUNG
FEATURING SONGS FROM BEYONCÉ JENNIFER LOPEZ JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE CHRISTINA AGUILERA BLACK EYED PEAS P!NK KATY PERRY KE$HA COLDPLAY PANIC! AT THE DISCO CASCADA AVRIL LAVIGNE BRITNEY SPEARS + MORE!
21:15 | 30 JUL - 24 AUG
CHOREOGRAPHED BY
BOOK BY JACK HOLDEN
CONCEIVED AND DIRECTED BY STEVEN KUNIS
ASHLEY NOTTINGHAM
Wyrd Encounters
At Jupiter Artland, Megan Rudden – an Edinburgh Art Festival X The Skinny Emerging Writer – stumbles upon a gathering of hybrid animals staged by Jonathan Baldock
Iintrude on their meeting. Like entering an unfamiliar pub for the first time, I anticipate the locals might turn round and survey me, but to my relief, most seem too interested in each other to notice my arrival. This room is much grander, with high ceilings and plaster cast decadence that swirls towards a chandelier centrepiece. Beside a marble fireplace a penguin with human hands for feet gestures towards me, but the acknowledgement is welcoming. He holds my gaze with ice lolly blue eyes, su esting without words that I should join them. Seated at the far end of the room, they give newcomers time to make their decision, without expectation or judgement. They are polite but not shrinking. There is no attempt to conduct business in secret, and the collective is visible as a whole from outside, colour spilling out of the window. The group sits in pairs, facing inwards. It is unclear if this circular meeting is a tea party or conjuring, support group or council. Each couple seems prepared to confess (anonymously) or decide (collectively). Aware that I am without a partner, I slot myself in between the giraffes with an odd number of heads, hoping the addition of mine might make things even.
“George Michael dressed up as a police officer leads a choreographed dance”
Around me sit mythical creatures pulled from a common imaginary. Ancient Greek allegories told by gift shop toys, memories of a Kello ’s cereal advert intermingle with Hans Christian Andersen fairytales. These beings have grown with disregard to scale or the expectations of others: chickens tower over penguins, cat noses sit above unicorn horns, mice reach the height of giraffes. Reptile, bird or mammal, they are united in their difference. Fur, feathers and scales all the same hessian skin, thick and versatile. Cut from the same cloth. Human parts emerge from stuffed fabric; ears, face, nose, feet. Fleshy extremities scanned into a mechanical womb, born layer by layer, then returned to clay and the body, hand stitched on to beings that hope to make solid some parts of themselves. Their permanent state is transitional, almost human, almost animal, always becoming. The snails arrive last, departing opposite ways to circumambulate the group, meeting again behind the spindly legs of the chickens. A circle made from salt would be fatal to their slug bodies, so instead protection is cast in slime. Two giant cats with glass eyes and clown fish skin have faces at the end of their tales. A tongue protrudes from one bearded mouth, an o shape is made by the other. Dogs with ribbon tied under their chin
and powder paint feet, both unsettling and sweet, splay out on a crochet blanket. Lizards with human tongues too short to reach the ground rely instead on each other for survival. Their backs read like a vintage postcard, yellow fabric cut in cursive font. Let’s go outside. Animal habitat or lyrical retaliation; pop music echoes of an oppressive past. George Michael dressed up as a police officer leads a choreographed dance in a public toilet. Under his feet illuminated squares change colour with the beat, mirror balls descend from air vents, urinals rotate in glistening chrome. Authority mocked in disco lighting, camp resistance. Back to nature, just human nature. These beings are not concerned with Biblical floods or
Words: Megan Rudden
Darwinian order, knowing neither doctrine nor theory can rewrite the experience of living. The hum of group chatter trails off as the snails begin to narrate. Got no friends in high places. I hold my breath and listen, guttural sounds emerge more like song than speaking. Two tiny heads shrunk down and singing, a perfect replica of their creator and his love. We make God in the image of ourselves. They accept my presence without question and I exhale, the meeting begins.
Jonathan Baldock: WYRD, Jupiter Artland, until 28 Sep, 10am-5pm jupiterartland.org
WYRD
Photo: Neil Hanna
The Spectacle of History
Holly Allan, an Edinburgh Art Festival X The Skinny Emerging Writer, considers what it means to observe Wael Shawky’s solo exhibition in a city with a colonial past.
On screen, a set of plush, red curtains open to reveal a dimly lit stage and we are positioned squarely in our new role: that of spectator. This is exactly where Wael Shawky wants us to be throughout all 48 minutes of his gripping opera film, Drama 1882. Using the vehicle of the play, the work asks us first and foremost to bear witness, as Shawky entangles us in a dance of spectatorship and complicity.
Showing as part of his solo show at Talbot Rice alongside his two hour epic Cabaret Crusades III: The Secrets of Karbala (2023), the exhibition aligns neatly with the gallery’s 50th anniversary; a fitting choice as Shawky’s work is rooted in the importance of histories and legacy. Created for the Egyptian Pavilion at the 60th Venice Biennale, Drama 1882 is a (re)telling of the crusades in Egypt and the role the British played in colonising the region in the 19th century.
“His films stand as cautionary tales, folkloric and foreshadowing”
While created for the global stage of the Biennale, Shawky’s work finds new resonance within the walls of Talbot Rice Gallery. A historical city with a colonial past, Edinburgh puts forth a new layer of context as the thematic exploration of power, corruption and complicity feel close to home in the gallery’s grand halls, beckoning a heightened level of discomfort.
Shawky presents us with the artifice of theatre, allowing the story to extend out of the frame and into the Georgian gallery via the plush curtains which sheath the space, enshrining us in history and bringing the spectacle into the real world.
Through dreamlike performance and a haunting libretto opera sung in classical Arabic, live actors recreate historical events; the Alexandria massacre, the Asitana Conference. A carousel of scheming generals and grieving women parade through Shawky’s intricate sets, exquisitely costumed and possessing a fantastical quality. This whimsy underscores the importance of histories being widely told lest they risk becoming subject to this fictionalised, dreamlike lens that Shawky glazes over his works as a warning.
The characters move stiffly, mechanically, like the figurines who march hourly through the tiny wooden doors on a cuckoo clock. Their rigid choreography complements Shawky’s enchanting,
painted sets, often cartoonish in their flatness. They are brightly coloured in soft peaches, hot pinks, often with a crooked, angled quality reminiscent of 1920s German expressionist films and 1960s Loony Tunes. These evocations once again call into question reality and fantasy, history and myth; dichotomies that Shawky plays off one another. The dance of politics continues and the characters move in tandem, sunflower-like, as if manipulated by some invisible force.
This key theme of manipulation creeps through the rest of the exhibition as we see the exquisitely crafted Murano glass marionettes used in Cabaret Crusades III: The Secrets of Karbala. Their stilted movements on screen present a jarring, uncanny version of history which seeks to distance us from the story, turning fact into fiction, the everyday into the surreal. Hyper glossy and honey translucent, the marionettes are at once beautiful and grotesque, fantastical and alien. They are displayed in tiered rows beside their on-screen counterparts, offering us a peek behind the curtain. Dangling from the ceiling, their strings visible, Shawky gestures at the transference of control that comes from the top down, and the hierarchy of political puppets in power.
Words: Holly Allan
Although rooted in a distinct period and place, the truth-seeking present in Shawky’s work feels timeless, his recreation of the past shining a light on the present. Through our position as spectator, we begin to draw parallels with these reenactments and our contemporary world, noting the cyclical and predictable nature of history. Using the language of fantasy, Shawky coaxes us to reconsider our own relationship with history, both in the past but also as it is being made today. His films stand as cautionary tales, folkloric and foreshadowing, as the violence on screen parallels the bloodshed that persists today.
As the curtain closes on Drama 1882, the arrangement of characters sway softly, turning side to side as if suffering a mechanical glitch. They are poised, there is seemingly no repose, like they are winding themselves up, ready for tomorrow’s matinee performance as history repeats itself.
Wael Shawky, Talbot Rice Gallery, until 28 Sep
Part of Edinburgh Art Festival
trg.ed.ac.uk
Wael Shawky, Drama, 1882 (2024) Commissioned by Egyptian Ministry of Culture – Accademia d’Egitto
Image: Wael Shawky. Courtesy of Lisson Gallery, Sfeir-Semler Gallery, Lia Rumma, and Barakat Contemporary
Let’s Get Together
We chat with cellist and writer Simone Seales and dancer and choreographer Mele Broomes about Dearest, Seales’ poetry album and zine being performed collaboratively at this year’s Edinburgh International Book Festival
Off the back of a busy Pride season and in the middle of another Wet Hot Scottish Summer, it feels fitting that Simone Seales’ project Dearest arrives in Edinburgh this August. A classical album combined with poetry spoken by both Seales and choreographer and longtime collaborator Mele Broomes, Dearest – alongside its accompanying zine – is a breathtaking reflection of first queer love.
The project has its origins in Todd Haynes’ Carol, the film adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel The Price of Salt (later also republished as Carol). The film depicts a lesbian romance between a photographer (Therese played by Rooney Mara) and her older love interest (Carol played by Cate Blanchett) who is navigating a divorce. Seales’ album started as a poem that they wrote two years ago, the eponymously titled Dearest, that “talks about this relationship that happened now ten years ago” and is named after “how Cate Blanchett says ‘Dearest’ in that letter,” they explain. The letter in question occurs in a scene where Therese is given a letter from Carol, formally and achingly closing the chapter of their relationship. Seales’ poem was an articulation of what it means to both love someone and explain why you can’t be with them. “[It] formulated a space where I could understand my own feelings,” they explain.
The accompanying zine is designed by Glasgow-based multidisciplinary artist and long-time friend of Seales, Christian Noelle Charles. The colours are warm, reminiscent of various states of summer skies or the dream-like evocations of first love. Each song-poem takes its
title from a different part of Carol’s letter. Seales draws on the rich legacy of the zine-as-object, long used as a radical form of self-expression utilised by many movements, but holding particular weight amongst Black feminists as a means of reclaiming the narrative, often against mainstream media’s one-sided or manipulative depiction of, well, everything. Seales also derived inspiration from Black queer feminist poets such as June Jordan who made them “understand poems,” they explain. “When I read [them] out loud, I was like, ‘Oh that’s my voice. I have a place in poetry and can reflect that.’”
“Acknowledging this beauty of first queer love [following] the trauma, the tension that can happen around it, how you ought to be for them to love you… it’s something I really stru led to do”
Simone
Seales
Words: Jan A.
Seales, who has read 16 of Highsmith’s 22 novels, says that for them, the moral of Highsmith’s novels is to tell the truth. “So many of the characters get into these situations because they have told a lie,” they explain. In response, Seales endeavours to seek truth through their work. Much as Carol anticipates a ‘perpetual sunrise’ – the lives that await her and her lover – Seales calls upon their own first lover to recall the sunrise they once gazed upon. Seales is doing something romantic with memory, but they are never telling a lie. “Acknowledging this beauty of first queer love [following] the trauma, the tension that can happen around it, how you ought to be for them to love you… it’s something I really stru led to do,” they say. It is a courageous, loving and terrifying choice to look back on a relationship from over a decade ago. Often people are quick to project a negative narrative onto an ex in order to hurriedly close the chapter. In rejecting such a practice, Seales challenges us to see first queer love for what it really was, whatever that might be. Their project is a proposal for us to step towards earnestness. To engage with Seales’ words and Broomes’ voice is to be held accountable.
I find myself in a place where this experience of first queer love can finally register. While I arguably could have claimed to know it following my first breakup last summer, I rejected the relationship for months to resist processing it. But talking to Seales and Broomes, I come to notice the ways that reflecting on this first love necessitates a settling into one’s self – a form of self-acceptance that was necessary for Seales’ own processing. This theme of self-acceptance runs throughout Dearest and also Broomes’ own show Through Warm Temperatures, performing at Dancebase this Fringe and exploring Broomes’ complex and reorienting relationship with her body and nature. I wonder what is gained and lost in the journey towards self-acceptance?
“Loving yourself is a never-ending journey,” Broomes explains. “In both our works there’s a grapple, tension and release.” Seales agrees, adding: “[A] freedom to exist is gained. That desire I used to have that people had to validate my existence is gone. [Instead there are] all these facets of myself I actually like and do not want to change.”
Throughout Dearest, Broomes’ voice works to deliver the “warmth and love” alongside the “hardship, heartbreak and tension” that comprises a first queer love, Seales explains. On why her voice was such an important factor, Seales adds that: “I wanted the music to lead the emotion. In typical spoken word, it’s the poetry that leads and the music that gives it vibes. [Here] I wanted the music to give the emotional content and the poetry to contextualise it, which is why I had Mele be neutral in her delivery. She’s just so emotive and I was just like... stop... less emotion!” they deadpan.
Photo: Osama
Daffalah
Mele Broomes
Broomes laughs. “It was work to get that delivery!” she says, “[but] when a concept is felt, and I feel connected to, it’s easier to arrive to it.” I listen to the titular Dearest in my kitchen with the sun glaring outside my window, petitioning for my presence outdoors. Broomes’ voice arrives just on time. When I hear her, I am called instead to sit down. I give the song another listen, reading the lyrics through the zine. In the same way that Seales was struck by Blanchett’s delivery of the letter, it is just as moving to hear Broomes’ own take on Dearest. If, as Seales says, “the cello is my voice”, then it is this voice of their's combined with Broomes’ that makes for such an intimate encounter, of another person articulating Seales’ letter to their first lover.
I am curious about Seales and Broomes’ continuous collaborations. They choose each other as artistic allies on numerous projects, made possible by a mutual recognition of the respective values that bind and bond their work. Of their partnership, Broomes says: “Through collaboration [we are] learning how each other works. In regards to my work where we are meeting [is me]
really learning and trusting through time, Simone’s role in making music. It’s learning how [the] next iterations of [our] projects happen. We’ve enjoyed our time together because there has been a flexibility and fluidity.”
Seales and Broomes move each other physically as well as musically, making ongoing commitments to ensure the intentions and visions for their projects are kept sacred through their willingness to learn from one another and take creative risks. For Seales, “a lot of our collaboration has to do with trust. I did some movement in a previous work, since I have had Mele do things musically the least I can do is return [the favour] and move a bit. There’s a constant give and take in collaboration.” The pair seem empowered both by finding commonalities as well as points of divergence in their chosen mediums, never forcing them to merge but remaining curious in how they can find one another.
Collaborations are, ultimately, just another type of relationship. It is this vulnerability, intimacy and trust that undergirds Seales and Broomes’ powerful working relationship. I find myself drawn
to this project of a first queer love that also leaves space for friendship. I think back to an interview Broomes did last year, where she discusses having found “friendship and solidarity” with 15 other Black women with whom she worked to inform her work for Through Warm Temperatures. Friendship and solidarity winds its way through both of their works; the kind of first queer love that Seales explores in Dearest becoming one of many different testing grounds for their presence. Queer love has infinitely extended my capacity for kinship with people I long desired to be creative co-conspirators; when I listen to Seales and Broomes bounce off one another, laughing wholeheartedly (infectious even through the Zoom screen) and looking both back and forward to their joint creative process, I am certain that this feeling is widespread.
Simone Seales and Mele Broomes: Dearest is at Edinburgh International Book Festival at the Edinburgh Futures Institute, Edinburgh on 13 Aug, 8pm
Mele Broomes: through warm temperatures is on at Assembly @ Dance Base, Edinburgh, 12-24 Aug (not 18,19) at 1.15pm
Photo:
Joe Steven Hart
Simone Seales
Inverleith House Gallery
23 May – 19 October 2025
10.30 am – 4.30 pm daily
@RBGECreative
LINDER DANGER CAME
SMILING
Common People
We chat with Laura C. Forster and Joel White about their book Friends in Common, the intersection between friendship and organising, and why our intimate lives are political
Words: Paula Lacey
As the title of their book alludes to, Laura C. Forster and Joel White met through a friend in common. When, after years of writing and organising separately, Joel reached out to Laura about something she’d written which touched on ideas he’d been exploring in his own work, this dialogue would become Friends in Common
Through lengthy co-writing sessions and hundreds of voice notes, the two friends’ voices came together seamlessly into the book’s six chapters, punctuated by interviews with fellow writers and organisers, Gargi Bhattacharya, Gracie Mae Bradley and Luke de Noronha. The result is a thoughtful, collaborative mediation on the oftenthorny ways that friendship intersects with the political, and how interpersonal relationships are the foundation to lasting movements.
For Forster and White, friendship’s political power is made evident by the way in which capitalism attempts to co-opt it, as in the instrumentalisation of real relationships formed at work for profit explored in chapter two, Work Friends. “Anti-work politics, at its core, asks how we can build more time for ourselves to do the things that we need and want to do,” explains Forster. “In acknowledging that the work-leisure boundary is fundamentally blurred, we have to think through those contradictions.”
This blurring of the work-leisure boundary leaks into day-to-day relationships, and by extension our political organising, arising as competitiveness, comparison, and an attachment to productivity as a determination of worth and value. To White, developing an anti-work ethos in our friendship means “think[ing] about how the organisation of time can be rearranged and reorganised to not just serve capital, from the workplace to the neighburhood.”
This means rejecting both the manosphereera logics of ‘high-value’ friends and the valorisation of stru le over rest in political organising. “Am I only someone’s friend when I’m in the stru le?” asks Forster, noting how activists can neglect “taking time to engage in shared forms of care. There’s an opportunity there for a
prefigurative way of organising which resists instrumentalisation,” she adds.
The book’s third chapter, Friends of Friends, draws on Forster’s background as a historian to explore how interpersonal relationships can act as vectors for the transmission of political ideas. Early models of movement building – the travelling activists who gave lectures across 19th-century Europe and the vibrant zine cultures of the DIY punk scene in 90s-00s UK – relied on networks of friendship to function while also creating space for politically generative connections.
Nowadays, technology and digital platforms echo these processes on what feels like a faster, larger scale, through city-wide organising group chats, political streamers or viral social justice
infographics. Yet, Forster reminds us, although these historical movements used the cutting edge technologies of the time, they also offered an interpersonal aspect not quite replicated online. Where the internet has revolutionised our ability “to share strategy, to bring movements into conversation [with one another],” she says, something is lost in this move away from the physical, material and face-to-face; what White calls the “granular day-to-day connection you need for most successful movements.”
Besides the obvious security risks of online organising, the authors agreed that the parasociality of digital movements can threaten their sustainability. It’s not that parasocial relationships are problematic – “I’ve met a lot of men with a parasocial relationship to Karl Marx,” White jokes – but they lack the opportunities for growth found in offline friendship. “[Friendship] is always relational, and it’s always made in the doing. For it to be a meaningful, political kind of interpersonal connection, there has to be that push and pull,” Forster says.
Our relationships, and our organising groups have been forced online in part by a systematic attack on accessible public space. In chapter four, Old Friends, the writers reflect on how 19th-century cafe culture in Paris helped lay the stage for the 1871 Commune. These thriving spaces of intergenerational and cross-cultural exchange seldom exist these days, lost to centuries of enclosure and privatisation enacted by the state and institutions. In adapting to the rapid shrinking of third spaces, Forster believes that “there’s no getting around it, we just need to have [physical spaces] and we have to fight for them. We have to prioritise this absence of interpersonal connection, and recognise how politically vital it is across our movements.”
For White, “DIY venues, protest kitchens, community archives, queer saunas or public squares – they don’t just contain community but they question the terms of access to it.” Fighting to re-establish common space is also an opportunity to ensure they are built for everyone. This means learning from the pandemic, White explains, and “putting in the work to break down
“If people take anything away from the book, it’s that friendship, which is seen as this apolitical space of sentiment and shared values and activity, is actually deeply political”
Laura C. Foster
barriers to attending meetings, rather than moving to Zoom because it’s easier than finding an accessible space, or a space at all.”
Many ideas at the core of Friends in Common were borne out of a physical space, namely Glasgow’s Unity Center, a volunteer-run drop-in space for people in the asylum and immigration system, active for its 17-year lifespan until the end of 2023. A key hub of anti-racist and migrant justice organising in Scotland, White recalls being told at Unity’s volunteer training session to call everyone ‘friend’ – not client, not service user, not asylum seeker or refugee.
“That time at Unity, the relationship being explained in that way, it really was like a light bulb,” he explains. “It seems common sense on some level, or unsaid – that when we do affinity politics, when we work non-hierarchically, it’s all about friendship.”
The stru le for migrant justice is in many ways defined by the interpersonal – relationships are delegitimised and disregarded during deportations and citizenship claims, state hostility enforces isolation upon migrants and refugees, while border movements, community centres and mutual aid organisations work to re-establish belonging.
“[Migrant organising] is about meeting people where they’re at, in very different situations,” says Forster, reflecting on how power differentials and varying access to resources can shape relationships in these spaces. “But humanity, and a shared humanity, is the activism itself in a lot of ways – it’s about creating a reliable source of material support while also agitating for systemic change.”
The penultimate chapter, Bad Friends, turns to the SpyCops scandal, an ongoing national inquiry into undercover policing in Britain in the late 20th century, where activist groups across environmental and social movements were infiltrated by policemen posing as friends, comrades and lovers. The case, with its seemingly endless catalogue of violations and betrayals, is an
example of the risks of building community in defiance of the state. In the wake of Spycops, movements have been left cagey, suspicious and closed off – but, argue the authors, this isn’t the answer.
“Friendship’s really hard, precisely because people have been burned a lot,” says Forster, “but if we’re not [vulnerable], we’re dead, you know. We’re better off trying to do it, trying to figure out why it feels hard and how we could make it feel better or different, and seeing what might be made possible in doing so.”
Connected through the Police Spies Out of Lives campaign, victims of undercover policing were able to undo years of secrecy and shame by turning their shared experience into a way to hold power to account. “Through finding others who had been through the same thing, they rebuilt their ability to trust,” says White. “We could do the same – it’s not only possible, it’s vital if we’re to face up to the state.”
Rather than a private, individual experience, Forster and White imagine friendship as the backbone of political stru le. Outside of the flashpoints of elections, campaigns or protests, friendship offers a praxis to challenge the isolation and alienation of capitalist social relations, undermining divisive rhetoric by allowing itself to be nourished by individual differences. As Yvonne, a friend from White’s time at the Unity Center, describes in the book’s opening chapter; ‘Friendship means strength in the stru le [...] vicarious strength.’
Friends in Common is out now with Pluto Press
“If people take anything away from the book, it’s that friendship, which is seen as this apolitical space of sentiment and shared values and activity, is actually deeply political,” says Forster. Building on second-wave feminist theories of social reproduction, Friends in Common’s central thesis is that ‘the interpersonal is political’. “[Friendship] is shaped by the world we’re in, and it has impact on that world, too,” explains Forster. “It reproduces that world in certain ways, but it can also be used to try and challenge injustices in the world.”
Laura Forster and Joel White will be appearing at Book Fringe at Lighthouse Bookshop, Edinburgh on 13 Aug at 1pm
Joel White
Laura C. Forster
15 SHOWS 7 VENUES
EDINBURGH 2025
LONDON’S MOST VIBRANT PRODUCER OF NEW THEATRE, COMEDY AND CABARET IS BACK WITH THIS LUSH LOT.
Plus, exciting new talent from our View our full programme and access performances
The Muons and Me
Ahead of bringing his purpose-built muonophone to the Fringe for MŮO, we catch up with Lomond Campbell to talk physics and turning cosmic rays into music
“I’m probably about the busiest I’ve ever been in my fucking life, even including all the FOUND madness… And I could really do with it not being busy right now so that I can try and focus on this one fucking show.”
We catch up with musician, producer and visual artist Lomond Campbell in mid-July, fresh from playing some live shows with Kathryn Joseph, whose last two albums he produced. He’s got a looming deadline for sound design work for a BBC podcast, and he’s just two weeks out from presenting MŮO at the Fringe, where he’ll be turning the signals generated by muon particles into music for a part live show, part sound installation run at The French Institute. “It’s like a sick prank; everything has been delayed and it’s all bottlenecked and funnelled into this one month – this month.”
Mild panic aside, Campbell admits that he enjoys being busy. He’s just feeling a tad overwhelmed by how much work is needed to deliver MŮO, a work rooted in some quite seriously complicated physics. But MŮO is in good hands; it’s not the first time Campbell has worked on a musical project with a scientific bent. In 2009, alongside Simon Kirby and FOUND bandmate Tommy Perman, he helped build Cybraphon, an interactive autonomous robot band, while more recently he created LŪP, a beautifully intricate tape looping machine of which he made an album of the same name.
It’s no surprise, then, to learn how MŮO came to be. “The University of Glasgow got in touch with me out of the blue and said, ‘look, I don’t suppose you’d want to build one of your music machines using our muon detectors?’”
In an attempt to wrap our heads around MŮO, firstly, what are muons? “Cosmic rays generated by huge nuclear events in deep space,” responds Campbell. “Most of the cosmic rays that are hitting the Earth are generated by the Sun. However, a percentage of them are coming from huge events that are unimaginable, like black holes tearing galaxies apart or worlds colliding. Anything that’s going to generate a massive amount of nuclear energy, it’ll get spewed out across space and then once it interacts with the Earth’s atmosphere, muons are generated; they only last two nanoseconds, so their existence is brief.”
For the MŮO installation and live performances, Campbell has purpose-built a muonophone. A striking retro-futurist musical instrument, it features muon detection technology, with parts built by the University of Glasgow based on designs and specifications supplied by Campbell. While this technology can aid a technique known as muography that has allowed the discovery of hidden chambers in the Great Pyramid of Giza, Campbell is more interested in turning signals from these detectors into music.
“I don’t want it to be 50 minutes of randomly generated notes, even if they are in key, I want it to be a composition”
Lomond Campbell on MŮO
Words: Tallah Brash
For the two different sides to MŮO, of the free-entry installation element he says, it’ll just be “the machine doing a sort of long-form and selfgenerated piece that you can walk in and kind of experience as a quadrophonic setup – that’ll be more contemplative and more ambient. But the [live] performance, it certainly starts very ambient, but then I’ve got a kraut-y track with arpe ios generated by the muons; I’ve got a really sort of dark folky kind of sound, and then later it goes quite hard – there’s a quite heavy techno tune.”
He continues: “I think what I’ve done is very musical. There’s passages where you will just hear these random notes being generated, and the machine animates every time a muon’s detected – it’s got a really mechanical clicky sound to it, so it should be really apparent throughout the whole show, but there’s definitely bits where it’s music.”
With the muons always being detected in real time for both facets of MŮO, in a live setting their tri ers will be controlled and manipulated to some extent by Campbell through processes like filtering, quantizing and looping, and given their moments within his compositional pieces. “I feel like this project should be a duet between the muons and me,” he says. “I don’t want it to be 50 minutes of randomly generated notes, even if they are in key, I want it to be a composition, I want to put something into it as well, so I’ve written music around it.”
A muon-reactive visual element will also feature in the live shows – “every time a muon strikes, it’ll generate a new visual or it’ll create a new shape” – and on 3 and 5 August, the muons will collaborate not only with Campbell, but also with Kathryn Joseph and King Creosote respectively, Joseph making use of the French Institute’s in-house grand piano, and Kenny Anderson bringing his synths along for the cosmic happening. While Campbell is quick to give kudos to Made In Scotland for supporting works like this, he’s scratching his head over where MŮO sits within the usual Fringe oeuvre. “It’s not very theatre, it’s probably quite on the fringe – no pun intended,” he quips. “It feels like it might be a bit of an awkward unusual weirdo cousin that doesn’t quite fit into the family,” he muses, admitting nanoseconds later, “I like that!” Us too.
MŮO, the immersive installation runs at the French Institute, Edinburgh, 8-25 Aug (not 11), from 11am (free, non-ticketed)
MŮO Live takes place at the French Institute, Edinburgh, 1, 3-7, 14, 19 and 23 Aug, 6-7pm (ticketed)
lomondcampbell.com
madeinscotlandshowcase.com
muonophone
Lomond Campbell
images: courtesy of Lomond Campbell
Riding It Out
Bristol-based Billy Nomates faced a wave of toxic online behaviour following her 2023 Glastonbury set. But the moment also unleashed the project into cosmic new realms, as bandleader Tor Maries explains
Two years ago, you might’ve been deep in the glow of Barbenheimer, but Tor Maries, the one woman behind Billy Nomates, was dealing with another blow-up. The Bristol-based songwriter faced an onslaught of online abuse following her appearance at Glastonbury. The Park Stage performance marked the end of the musician’s CACTI tour, but the BBC footage has since been removed, at Maries’ request. The uproar was instantaneous. Broadcaster Lauren Laverne insisted that Maries “doesn’t need a band. She is the bloody band!” Producer Steve Albini added that “performing alone in front of people who do not get it deserves infinite respect. Billy Nomates fucking rules.”
Maries isn’t the only artist to speak out against this surging wave of online toxicity. In 2024, Chappell Roan rebuked fans for their increasingly unacceptable behaviour. In a statement on Instagram, she wrote, “I love music and art and honouring my inner child. I do not accept any harassment of any kind because I chose this path, nor do I deserve it.” Maries feels similarly. “I’ve constantly had men look at me confused and say, ‘What is this terrible karaoke, awful thing?’ People have come to the tour and said that to me,” she explains from her sunny flat in Bristol, a stone’s throw from the city’s infamous Invada Records (and incidentally Maries’ label). While the confrontation wasn’t new, there was a frank realisation to contend with. “Against the odds, I’ve made it here, and I remember thinking, ‘Ah, but it doesn’t matter, because they’ll never truly accept you.’ Women have taken the bullet for a long fucking time, and some never got back up.”
Maries journey to Worthy Farm has seen the songwriter face countless hurdles. Her self-titled debut landed during a global lockdown where, as she admits, “for a long time, social media was all I had.” She’s since had to grapple with an MS diagnosis and the loss of her father, Pete, who passed away from Parkinson’s disease. “[But in] that moment,” she continues, “I was just like, ‘Ah, might fuck it all off for a bit and make a record.’ Turns out, I’ve still got a career.” Her latest record, Metalhorse, came together with her trusty Focusrite interface (“This has written three albums!” she beams, holding the unit aloft to the camera) and snatched moments down the road at the Invada sound desk, one of the merits of these demo states as she reflects. “When you’re quite DIY, you can just get a laptop and interface and set up wherever.”
You could, for example, reroute to the South of Spain and find yourself laying down the new record in sunnier climes, which is precisely where we find Maries last September. Unbeknownst to those dishing out snarky asides about the onewoman show in 2023, Maries was loosening the reins, welcoming Scottish-born session bassist Mandy Clarke (KT Tunstall; The Go! Team) and
Words: Cheri Amour
“Women have taken the bullet for a long fucking time, and some never got back up”
Tor Maries, Billy Nomates
Glasgow-based drummer Liam Chapman (Rozi Plain) into the Billy Nomates fold, with some instant benefits. “We’ll finish a show and decompress together. For years, I would go back to sit in a hotel and watch Naked Attraction, analyzing what’s happened. Before you know it, you’re at the Premier Inn and someone’s penis is immediately in front of you, and you’re watching it thinking, ‘Was that show good? Maybe I shouldn’t do this anymore?’”
The studio time in Seville didn’t just cement the union of the three creatives but also another cosmic connection that Maries could never have anticipated. During her vocal takes for album number Dark Horse Friend, Maries mentioned to producer James Trevascus that she was trying to emulate The Stranglers’ Hugh Cornwell. Owner of Paco Laco and Metalhorse engineer, Paco piped up that The Stranglers’ singer would be in the studio tomorrow if she wanted to ask him onto the track. Convinced the conversation was lost in translation, Maries buckled down in the booth.
The next day, though, Cornwell showed up bolstering the bright, shimmering singalong. “Had it not been on the album, I would have to call James up and be like, ‘Did that happen?’” Of course, the appearance of Cornwell at the studio conjured another very important man to the forefront of Maries mind. “The only person that I wanted to tell about it was Dad,” she shares wistfully.
Her early entry into music, Pete “the renegade hippy”, is the only opinion she’s ever really cared about. “The good thing is that Dad saw so many things happen with me. I’m so grateful he got to see me working as a musician. He had this constant belief that I would do something.” A lot has shifted for Billy Nomates since that fateful summer but perhaps most significantly, Maries’ absolution, stepping away from the carousel of commentary and treading her own path. “When I first started, there was this need in me to want people to like me, because I wanted my music to do well. Now I just go, ‘Oh, fuck it. Who cares?’ I need to like it. I’m the one that fucking lives with it. Do I like it? Am I having a good time? And the answer at the moment is yes.”
instagram.com/metalhorse_tor
Metalhorse is out now via Invada Records; Billy Nomates performs at Fringe by The Sea, North Berwick, 8 Aug; SWG3, Glasgow, 3 Oct
Billy Nomates
Photo: Jack Dallas-Chapman
East Lothian Flow
Ahead of this year’s Fringe by the Sea, one East Lothian local invites you to ditch the cobbles, skip the crowds, and get yourself to the coast this August
There’s something about Fringe by the Sea that sneaks up on you. It’s not just the sea air, the music, or the sight of a Big Top tent framed by the curve of the Bass Rock. It’s the feeling – the kind you can’t force – of a place and a festival growing side by side, with care, creativity, and just the right amount of chaos.
Held in the Lodge Grounds at North Berwick, Fringe by the Sea has quietly blossomed into one of Scotland’s most exciting cultural gatherings. It still flies under the radar outside East Lothian, and honestly, that’s half the magic! Sure, you could call it a music festival, especially this year, with Air, Hot Dub Time Machine, Billy Nomates, Sandi Thom and loads more gracing the Big Top and Lodge Stage. But it’s also so much more. It’s comedy, family shows, talks, and beach wanderings – all wrapped in coastal vibes and small-town charm.
As an East Lothian native, I’ve watched this festival grow from small beginnings into a ten-day celebration of place and people, vaulting into national consciousness without losing depth or personality. It hasn’t tried to become Edinburgh. It’s stayed its own beautiful, slightly quirky self. Here, the shows unfold just steps from the sea. The site is compact but buzzing, with the Big Top at its heart, set within the Lodge Grounds, and dotted with smaller stages, tents, and seafront corners for impromptu hangs. Music, stand-up, talks, DJ sets, film screenings, family workshops, all cradled by the harbour and the ever-presence of the Bass Rock.
And the pace? Blissfully different from anywhere else in August. Fringe by the Sea invites you to slow down – to breathe, to look around, to enjoy. Grab a drink, chat to a stranger, dip your toes in the water between gigs. No flyering, no Fringe fury – just space to be.
My perfect day starts at Steampunk Coffee Roasters, where the coffee is strong, and the cinnamon buns are spiritual. North Berwick doesn’t do fast-paced frenzy – it does slow strolls with a view, zingy moments that clear the cobwebs, and cafe corners where conversations spill into encounters with the unexpected. When hunger hits, head to Bostock Bakery for next-level pastries or queue up at the festival’s ever-excellent street food vans. Expect bold flavours, local favourites, and something new to try every day. Need a pint? The Ship Inn is your go-to with its sunny beer garden and guaranteed good craic.
Then it’s time to drift into the rhythm of it all – the music, the laughter, the unexpected moments that catch you off guard in the best way. Maybe it’s a voice that gives you goosebumps, a story that stays with you, or a beat that pulls you in like the tide. You won’t feel rushed or crushed – this is a festival that gives you space to breathe. And trust me, the sea breeze helps.
Words: Jenna Cockburn
‘Fringe by the Sea invites you to slow down – to breathe, to look around, to enjoy [...] No flyering, no Fringe fury’
When the night winds down, it’s not over. Grab a fish supper, sit on the sand, and watch the last glow of golden hour fade across the water.
Fringe by the Sea isn’t chasing trends or viral moments. It’s not trying to be TRNSMT-by-thecoast. It knows exactly what it is, and that’s what makes it brilliant. It’s curated without being pretentious, family-friendly without being twee, and cool without shouting about it. A festival that feels as much like a gathering of neighbours as it does a lineup of major names. That balance, between big and small, local and international, chilled and electric, is what makes it so special. And festival-goers here aren’t just strangers – they’re new friends, united by good tunes, laid-back vibes, and the shared joy of discovering something uniquely East Lothian.
I’ve danced in the sun, cried in the rain, laughed till it hurt, and almost certainly overindulged. I’ve bumped into school pals I haven’t seen in years, interviewed artists I worshipped as a teenager, and le ed it across the Lodge Grounds to catch a late-night set. And every single time, I’ve left feeling not just entertained, but proud. Proud that this festival lives here and that it still feels like it belongs. So, ditch the cobbles, skip the crowds, and get yourself to the coast. Fringe by the Sea will sweep you up and sing with the sea breeze. And don’t be surprised if you find a little bit of East Lothian sand still in your shoes – and soul – weeks later.
Fringe by the Sea, North Berwick, 1-10 Aug fringebythesea.com
Photo:
Queer Me Out
Four out of the ten films competing in this year’s Sean Connery Prize for Filmmaking Excellence at EIFF concern LGBTQ+ themes. We speak to these films’ directors to explore what their work reveals about queer indie cinema in 2025
Film festivals can act as barometers for assessing the health of indie filmmaking. Read any critic’s report on the competitions at Cannes or Berlin and you’ll find them prognosticating on the upcoming fortunes of the industry like they’re tasseographers examining a teacup. What will the diagnosis be based on the ten films competing for the top prize at this year’s Edinburgh International Film Festival? All are world premieres, so their qualities will not be known for a few more weeks, but one thing is certain from reading the films’ loglines in the brochure: they’re kinda gay.
A significant proportion – four – explore LGBTQ+ themes. Campbell X’s Low Rider is a lyrical road movie following two queer women – one femme, the other butch – as they drive across South Africa on a picaresque adventure of self-discovery. On the Sea, the second feature from Helen Walsh, is a rough-hewn coming-out drama centred on a stoic middle-aged fisherman. In Transit, from American filmmaker Jaclyn Bethany, has a superficially similar premise to On the Sea, but with the genders switched. And Elliot Tuttle’s Blue Film is a tense, often troubling two-hander about a camboy who agrees to spend the night with one of his patrons.
Ahead of the festival, I spoke to Walsh, Bethany and Tuttle – Campbell X was unavailable – to explore any common threads in their film. Initially, though, I’m struck by the varied paths each walked before filmmaking. Walsh began her career as a celebrated novelist before transitioning to cinema with 2015’s The Violators. Bethany started in theatre as an actor. And Tuttle’s initial ambition as a young cinephile was to be a film
critic on YouTube before he realised he’d prefer to make movies. Similarly diverse are their filmmaking styles, although that shouldn’t be a surprise. Queer cinema isn’t, after all, a monolith. You’ll often see it discussed as if it were a genre, with rigid formats or markers, but as this quartet demonstrates, a queer film can be any kind of movie.
Walsh’s background is literary, but she explains that her starting point for On the Sea was visual. She knew it had to be set in a parochial, coastal town. “I think I’ve always been fascinated by how certain places give rise to certain cultural and social precepts and values,” she tells me over the phone from her home in Merseyside. “And those, in turn, give rise to these very idealised expressions of how one should live one’s life.”
Once a setting was in mind, the central character of Jack came into focus. “I knew he was going to be a fisherman, and he grew from this very loose idea of a morally good man who’s trapped by place, by his upbringing.”
The film was five years in the making, but most of that time was Walsh trying to settle on the right location. “I spent quite a lot of time in the Isle of Man, in the kipper smokehouses in Peel, then up in Oban, in Scotland. But it was only when I found the mussel beds of the Menai Strait in Anglesey that the story really started to take shape. I’d say I spent about three years just trying to find that place and that industry, and then it took me about two months to write it.”
The “hulk of masculinity” at the centre of the film is Jack, played by Barry Ward. “There’s a sense that Jack could have lived his whole life unfulfilled without the events of this movie,” says Walsh. What unfolds is a heartbreaking story of a man
who had locked away a part of himself since childhood. Jack knows that he’s gay but only acts on his feelings when he’s thrown together with Daniel (Lorne Macfadyen), a peripatetic fisherman from Scotland who’s a decade or so younger than Jack and has no hangups about liking men, although Walsh doesn’t put this down to age. “It’s the fact that Daniel is nomadic rather than younger that allows him a much freer relationship with his sexual identity,” she explains.
Her fastidious search for the perfect location has paid dividends: Jack feels indivisible from the salt-blasted landscapes in which he’s situated. “If Jack had been born 100 miles east in Manchester, or had he not been born into a family of fishermen, had he had the opportunity to leave his coastal community, go to uni, I think things would have turned out very differently for him. I find that unbearably sad.”
In Transit is also set within a small community and concerns a character going through a sexual transformation, but it couldn’t look more different. The script was written by Alex Sarrigeorgiou, who also stars as Lucy, a young bartender from rural Maine who seems to be in a contented relationship with her chef boyfriend. Things get confused, however, when she begins to pose for Ilse (Jennifer Ehle), an older artist who’s in a creative slump and visiting town on a retreat.
“I thought Alex’s script was beautiful and complex,” says Bethany when I ask what drew her to the project. “It was so interesting to see two women of different ages and backgrounds leading a story like this.” Bethany felt a deep connection to both characters. “Lucy is from a small town, sort of like me, and is very dedicated to her family and
Words: Jamie Dunn
Blue Film
her job and the place she’s from, and Ilse is an artist questioning if she should make art, to which I can also relate.” But she also reckons the film digs into more universal truths. “To me, it questions what it is to be a woman? What is it to want something you didn’t know you wanted before?”
Similar to Jack, Lucy and Ilsa are characters who want more; they just don’t realise it until somebody new comes into their lives. “[In Transit] holds a mirror up to some deep psychological questions around relationships and intimacy and sexuality,” explains Bethany. “I think it also shows that even a small moment in your life can irrevocably change you.”
In Transit is a quiet, nuanced drama, where emotions often go unsaid and its most passionate moments are elided. It’s fair to say that Tuttle delivers something more confrontational with Blue Film. How could he not, given he came up with the premise while exploring the back catalogue of French filmmaker Catherine Breillat, modern cinema’s great chronicler of transgressive desires?
“I remember I was watching A Real Young Girl, 36 Fillette and Brief Crossing…” recalls Tuttle. “So many of her movies are about adolescent sexuality, and they got me thinking about myself when I was 12 or 13. And I was thinking about how when I was that age, I had this teacher in middle school that I think, in my head, I genuinely wanted them to have sex with me.”
That was as far as the adolescent crush went, but Briellat’s provocative films got him thinking: what would be the logical endpoint of that fantasy? “It just felt like material that might be rife with drama, and a good way of channelling some of my thoughts about sex, and this idea of a loss of innocence, which I think is central to the film.”
Blue Film opens with camboy Aaron Eagle (Kieron Moore) greeting his followers with a cheery direct-to-webcam address of “What’s up fa ots?” He then continues to berate his “pay pigs” while flexing his muscles. All the while, token payments flood in at the bottom of the screen. The rest of the film takes place within a house rented by Hank (Reed Birney), one of those “pay pigs,” who’s paying $50,000 for the pleasure of Aaron’s company for one night.
Hank is initially a mystery, not least because he wears a balaclava. He doesn’t appear to want anything sexual from Aaron; he only wants to ask him questions, which must be answered honestly. But it soon dawns on Aaron that Hank knows too much about his previous life as a shy schoolkid to be an anonymous stranger. To reveal Hank’s exact connection to Aaron’s past might ruin some of Blue Film’s shock and awe, but it’s safe to say both men are wearing masks. “That was something that I thought about a lot while writing, the way that the parts that we play, as gay men, make us feel safe.”
With such an abundance of queer work in competition, one might assume getting films with
LGBTQ+ themes financed is relatively easy in 2025. That certainly wasn’t Walsh’s experience. “ Well, my producers were hugely supportive,” she recalls, “but very early on, the script was shared with a couple of British sales agents, and the consensus was they already had enough gay films. One of them said, ‘There are already two coming out films this year.’” Walsh was furious. “If I’d made another hetero meetcute film, or another hetero coming-of-age film, I don’t think there’d be an issue.”
Tuttle worries that the pushback he might face will be from gay audiences, given he’s exploring dark, taboo subjects “I think people are hesitant about sending the wrong kind of message out about the queer community, especially during this time in America, when we’re facing a conservative cultural resurgence.”
This rings true. It’s not uncommon for LGBTQ+ films to receive fierce censure online if they don’t spark queer joy. See the criticism levelled at recent titles like Femme (too problematic), All of Us Strangers (too depressing) or Queer (both).
“It’s not that I’m necessarily against the idea of queer joy,” says Tuttle, “but I do feel a certain adverse reaction whenever anyone on Twitter is like, ‘Why do all gay movies have to be sad?’ There’s a huge appetite for subversive, dangerous cinema that I think the current landscape is not really feeding.”
It’s understandable that queer filmmakers might feel pressure to consolidate the image of their community given how LGBTQ+ rights are under attack from governments on both sides of the Atlantic, but for Tuttle, this attitude is flawed. “Being queer has always been about being yourself
and talking about things openly,” he says. “I’m just trying to make a movie that I like, that resonates with me, and hopefully resonates with an audience of people.”
Edinburgh International Film Festival runs 14-20 Aug
Blue Film screens 16, 17 & 18 Aug; In Transit screens 17, 18 & 19 Aug; Low Rider screens 17, 18 & 19 Aug; On the Sea screens 16, 17 & 18 Aug
Reading the Signs
Charlie Shackleton was about to make a film about the Zodiac Killer when the rights to the source material fell through, leaving him to make Zodiac Killer Project, a meta documentary about the film he wasn’t permitted to make
Words: Ben Nicholson
Charlie Shackleton has quietly become one of the most prolific and subversive nonfiction filmmakers in the UK, and his playful and often ingenious docs and visual essays are regular fixtures at international film festivals around the world. That’s not to say getting new projects off the ground is a walk in the park, as he discovered with his latest work.
“Obviously it’s not the first time I’ve had a project fall apart, even fairly far along,” explains Shackleton in reference to the unusual inception of his newest film, Zodiac Killer Project. The filmmaker’s original intention was to make a true crime documentary based upon Lyndon E. Lafferty’s 2012 book The Zodiac Killer Cover-Up: The Silenced Badge. Lafferty was a former highway patrol officer who believed he’d had an encounter with the Zodiac Killer – the unidentified serial killer who terrorised the San Francisco Bay Area between December 1968 and October 1969. His book makes the case for his theory of who the killer was, and Shackleton was all set to adapt it until Lafferty’s estate had a change of
Zodiac Killer Project
“I was interested in this idea of a creative failure, a project that can never come to be”
Charlie Shackleton
heart and decided not to permit him the rights. “I thought I would just kind of lick my wounds for a few weeks or a month and then move on,” he recalls. “There might be some element of the project that could inspire a new idea. I hate waste, so anywhere I can take some development work and find a new use for it, I’m happy. But in this case, more than any other, I just felt do ed by it.”
Shackleton would find himself sitting with friends, insistently explaining his vision for this unrealised film, describing entire sequences and arcs and the intricate plans he had in his head for what a certain shot or transition would look like. “At a certain point, before I was even imagining it as a critique of the true crime genre or anything like that, I was just quite interested in this idea of a creative failure, a project that can never come to be, and what that is when it just exists as this unfulfilled idea.”
He thought about making a film that explored this notion of artistic frustration and one that was centred on a missing artefact, an impossible object. “What’s more, I was interested in the idea that it could have this ambitious formal device of the film about the unmade film basically being structurally identical to it,” he explains. “It would be like real time, so you’re getting the audience to imagine the thing they’re palpably not seeing, minute by minute, beat by beat, revelation by revelation. That was very exciting to me, albeit not remotely as exciting as it would have been if they turned around and said, ‘actually, you can make the [originally planned] film.’”
What Shackleton has made in its place is a kind of stand-in. It features a selection of new 16mm footage shot around California, in the guise of imagery that might have been in the original film as part of recreations had the project gone ahead. Instead, in Zodiac Killer Project, they are largely empty, banal landscapes accompanied by arch inserts mimicking the genre tropes of the true crime doc and presented with Shackleton’s own improvised commentary as he describes the film he would have made, telling the basic tale of Lafferty’s book using alternative sources and sporadic readings from the original, inspirational text.
For those who have seen Shackleton’s work before – whether that is his one-to-one VR performance piece As Mine Exactly, short films and video essays like Copycat and Histoire(s) du TikTok, the TV special Missing Episode, or features like Beyond Clueless and Fear Itself – the film he ended up making arguably feels more like a Charlie Shackleton film than the one he originally planned to make.
“Yeah, that’s an interesting thought, actually,” says Shackleton when I put this to him. “The thing I’ve made is so much more unconventional than the thing I was planning to make, but, in some ways, it’s also safer ground for me. I’m certainly deploying a lot more of the formal and artistic devices that I’ve deployed before, and never actually thought about it in those terms. For one thing, the true crime film I was planning to
make, even if a big part of the appeal was the commercial prospect of something like that, I wouldn’t have been keen to make it if I didn’t think I could do something interesting with it.”
Shackleton explains that what we see in Zodiac Killer Project is a somewhat simplified version of the original. “I stress the elements that would have been most formulaic, because it’s easier to conjure those for people, and they have more resonance when you’re talking about the true crime genre at large. Honestly, though, it didn’t even occur to me that this was a genre study until it started screening. As I say, the origin was much more of a formal experiment, and I was quite late to the idea that what I’d made in the process was kind of predominantly a true crime critique.”
There’s a moment in Zodiac Killer Project in which Shackleton interrupts his narration to tell the viewer to “watch this” just before a motorcycle flies across the scene of an otherwise quiet intersection. It reminds me in some ways of John Smith’s famous short film The Girl Chewing Gum, which consists of 16mm footage of a busy London street, and in voiceover, we hear Smith appearing to direct all the actions of the passersby on screen.
“Certainly, The Girl Chewing Gum, and perhaps even more so The Black Tower were definitely films I was thinking about while constructing this one,” says Shackleton. “I think the thing I love most about those films – and all of John Smith’s work – is the slipperiness of the relationship between narration and images. More to the point, though, the way Smith invites the viewer to participate in that relationship and often upturns your expectation of how the relationship is functioning. That was something I thought about a lot in how my narration in this should relate to the images that are playing underneath it. How do all these pieces fit together? The thing I landed on, the formal dynamic of the film, is a result of the order of events of its production.”
This saw Shackleton and his cinematographer Xenia Patricia shooting in Vallejo, California, then recording his voice-over while watching the footage back in London, and then filming brief inserts that reflect the tropes the voiceover calls to mind. “The hope in the edit was to put this all together in a way
that allowed the viewer to intuit that order of events, so that you start to notice consciously or otherwise, that I’m watching the location footage with you, and that I’m able to respond to things that happen within it, but that I’m not watching the little b-roll inserts with you, I’m actually producing them with the force of my imagination.”
This slipperiness of the relationship between narration and construction creates and perhaps reveals the tensions inherent in non-fiction filmmaking, particularly where Shackleton’s narration forgoes the crunchier ethical commentary and can sometimes favour the glib or sarcastic. “I don’t say anything in the film that I don’t mean. So, on one hand, if people watch the film and come away disliking me – as some people do – that’s fine and I can live with that. What has surprised me is the extent to which some people make a moral assessment of me as I appear in the film, purely through what I say as a figure in the film, not holding that alongside what the film is. On reflection, I think it’s fair to question: why make the kind of uglier moral side of it the text and the more thoughtful moral side of it the subtext? There may well have been different choices to be made.”
Does the true crime genre have a responsibility to strike a better balance between those two aspects? “Yeah, I think there is a responsibility. I’m often surprised how significant the ethical lapses in true crime are because to me you have a really obvious license to explore different versions of the truth and question reality in such a way that allows you to do all your little dramatic gambits for the sake of entertainment while also clarifying, for your audience, what are actually known facts and what is speculation. I think I’m quite far from ethically scolding about these things. I’m quite permissive compared to a lot of people, and even then, most true crime shows just don’t seem interested in doing what, to me, seems like the most minimal amount of work to invite the viewer into the terms of truth-making that it’s engaged with.”
Zodiac Killer Project has its UK premiere at Edinburgh International Film Festival, and screens on 15, 18, 19 and 20 Aug at various venues
Photo: Xenia Patricia
Ten for Starters
Here are ten titles to add to your EIFF watchlist
There are many roadmaps into EIFF’s programme. Some people are drawn to the mint-fresh movies that haven’t screened anywhere else in the world. There are plenty of those in this year’s edition, including ten features competing for The Sean Connery Prize, plus brand new films from the likes of Andrew Kötting, Ben Wheatley and Paul Sng – the latter’s Reality Is Not Enough, a documentary about Irvine Welsh, closes the festival. Others will be keen to check out films that have already made a splash on the festival circuit, like Dominik Moll’s Case 137 or the Dardenne Brothers’ Young Mothers, both Cannes contenders, or Sundance breakout Sorry, Baby, which opens proceedings.
Perhaps you’re keen on the retrospectives, which this year include a chance to see all of Sean Connery’s official Bond films on the big screen? Maybe you’ll be knocking back a coffee and staying up late for the genre films of Midnight Madness? Or maybe hearing conversations with some of the visiting filmmakers, who include Andrea Arnold, Jeremy Thomas and Ken Loach, is more your style? My advice is simply to dive in and discover the films and events that speak to you. To get you started, however, here are ten titles I’ll be seeking out.
After This Death
If you saw Lucio Castro’s time-jumping queer romance End of the Century from 2019, you’ll be desperate to catch this latest work. It’s reportedly a tantalising and enigmatic tale concerning the mysterious disappearance of a charismatic rock star (Lee Pace) following his intense affair with a pregnant woman (Mia Maestro). 15, 16 & 19 Aug
Christy
We’ve been hearing great things about Brendan Canty’s debut Christy since its premiere at the Berlinale. It’s reportedly a sparky film exploring the lives of young people being let down by Ireland’s care system and living on the margins in
a hardscrabble suburb of Cork. Expect pathos, wit and occasional rapping. 15, 16 & 18 Aug
Dragonfly
Paul Andrew Williams broke onto the British film scene in a big way at EIFF 2006 with his bruising social-realist thriller London to Brighton. He makes a homecoming with Dragonfly, a new drama about two chalk-and-cheese neighbours (Brenda Blethyn and Andrea Riseborough) who form an unexpected bond. But don’t expect a cuddly two-hander; this is reportedly a fierce and strange tale of urban loneliness. 16, 18 & 19 Aug
The Golden Spurtle
OK, if you know me, you know I love a sports movie, and I love a bowl of porridge; therefore, this documentary about the World Porridge Making Championship in Carrbridge is right up my alley. But reports are that Greek-Australian director Constantine Costi (who usually makes operas) has crafted a gripping and offbeat film that even porridge agnostics should enjoy. 17, 18 & 19 Aug
Hysteria
We’re told there are shades of Hitchcock and Haneke in this thorny thriller from Germany. The burning of a Quran on a film set – perhaps by accident, perhaps intentionally – kicks off a nail-biting whodunit as the second assistant director tries to save a production and solve the mystery. 18, 19 & 20 Aug
Islands
Here’s another thriller with German origins. JanOle Gerster’s first English-language feature centres on Sam Riley as a rakish tennis coach working at an all-inclusive resort who gets embroiled in a mystery surrounding a missing man and a troubled British couple (played by Stacy and Jack Farthing). The term “Highsmith-esque” has been bandied about in early reviews, which has us sold. 15, 16 & 17 Aug
Words: Jamie Dunn
Low Rider
Campbell X’s knockout debut feature Stud Life, from 2012, was a queer love story and a queer friendship story rolled into one. His second feature, a lyrical road movie following a young woman searching for her estranged father in South Africa, looks to be worth the long 13-year wait. 17, 18 & 19 Aug
Mortician
The bittersweet moral parable A Shire, from Montreal-based Iranian director Abdolreza Kahani, was our pick of last year’s Sean Connery Prize contenders. Kahani has another crack at the competition this year with Mortician, which concerns the unexpected bond that forms between a mild-mannered Iranian mortician living in Canada and a dissident singer. 16, 17 & 18 Aug
Silent Scream
David Hayman’s kaleidoscopic, impressionistic debut feature, Silent Scream, put audiences inside the brilliant but troubled mind of Larry Winters, an inmate at the Barlinnie Special Unit. This brilliant film won the inaugural Michael Powell Award at EIFF in 1990 and then disappeared without a trace. Be sure to catch this lost masterpiece on the big screen, which is playing in celebration of its indomitable producer Paddy Higson, who died earlier this year. 20 Aug
The Tall T
The festival has two dad-friendly retrospectives this year. While it will be fun seeing those James Bond films on the big screen, also make time for The Ranown Cycle, a series of fat-free, slyly subversive low-budget westerns that director Budd Boetticher made with actor Randolph Scott in the late 50s. The Tall T is my favourite of the bunch, although all are worthy of your time. 16 Aug
The Golden Spurtle Silent Scream
Ride Lonesome, part of The Tall T Mortician Low Rider Islands Hysteria
Dragonfly
Christy
After This Death
Club Together
When no one’s throwing the night you need, build your own. Bass culture was too straight. Queer nights were too clean. In the thick of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival – and a full-blown UKG revival –Gay Garage splits the difference
During Pride Month of 2019, Headset’s Gay Garage staged its first-ever party spanning four dancefloors across The Mash House inside Edinburgh’s Cowgate. The newly christened night was a culmination of the influences of founder Nick Karlsberg, aka Skillis: the nostalgic rhythms of UK Garage, growing up a gay boy in Scotland, and his background within Edinburgh’s underground music scene.
Some six years later, the unlikely formula of Headset’s Gay Garage is still working wonders on dancefloors in Scotland and in Skillis’s current city of residence, Bristol. In anticipation of the club night’s Fringe residency, spanning four Monday nights at Edinburgh’s Sneaky Pete’s, Skillis gives us an insight into the night’s origin and evolution.
By the time Headset’s Gay Garage was created, Skillis was a seasoned promoter in Edinburgh, having run techno and bass club night, Headset, since 2014. The idea for a bouncier, queerer sister venture came after a run-in with DJ Noodles, co-founder of UK garage project, Groove Chronicles. “Noodles was playing at a gay garage night in London, and I thought it would be a good concept to replicate.” Skillis snapped up the original Gay Garage promoter, Twice Shy, to play at one of the first events for the Fringe in 2019; “It all went down really well and since then, I’ve just kept it going.”
“Clubbing is meant to be about deconstructing identity and what we have in common”
Skillis
The creation of Headset’s Gay Garage equally spoke to Skillis’s lack of affinity with queer events in the Scottish capital. “I started Gay Garage because I was starting to discover my own identity... everything was very repressed,” he recalls. “I found it quite hard to identify with a lot of the queer culture that was happening in Edinburgh… there wasn’t a cultural in-between within the usual gay bars and underground club music.” Skillis noticed a shift in other UK cities, where queer culture and UK electronic music mingled more freely: “They had queer nights which were also about the music.” Less ABBA bootlegs, more UKG shellers.
While aspects of the city’s queer scene didn’t strike a chord with Skillis, changing societal attitudes in Scotland made being an out, gay man that bit easier. “Scotland kind of ruined my life as a closeted gay kid,” he says, referencing the
commonplace homophobia of the noughties. “Then I came out and it kind of saved my life because all of a sudden [I was surrounded by] the friendliest people in the world… It was because of everyone’s support that I felt I could start an event.” In the same year as Headset’s creation, Scottish MSPs voted overwhelmingly in favour of the Marriage and Civil Partnership Bill. “It was a crazy time, [everything] changed so quickly.”
This support from the wider community has become an integral part of the nights, with drag queen hosts, all queer DJ lineups, and dancers taking centre stage. “It’s just got gayer and queerer as time goes on,” Skillis says. “It went from playing girly garage tunes into a wider range musically… We play a lot of gay house, Ballroom and some US queer club stuff.” This appeal to clubgoers beyond garage-heads reflects Skillis’s inclusive approach across the board. “It’s for all queer people. I don’t like exclusivity within scenes, clubbing is meant to be about deconstructing identity and what we have in common. That can be within the queer world as well.”
The queer community in Bristol, where Skillis relocated three years ago, has embraced Headset’s Gay Garage just as readily as Scottish clubbers. “It’s probably one of the bi est queer events here,” Skillis says. He reflects on the differences between the two cities: “Bristol still has this culture where everyone’s going out
constantly, [the city] is so celebrated from within as well. [August] is the only month of the year where [Edinburgh becomes] a loud culture… Bristol is the opposite.” With the onset of the Edinburgh festivals comes relaxed licensing for nightclubs, permitting venues to extend their opening hours until 5am during the month. So, does Skillis expect to see packed dancefloors until 5am this year round?
“I’ve had to put in a lot of work to get my Fringe Headset Gay Garage residencies busy… the Fringe hasn’t even been that busy for a lot of promoters,” Skillis reflects. “The Festival is so expensive that it prices out locals, it prices out bringing in guests [or] artists and it prices out people travelling to Edinburgh to experience it who aren’t very well off.” The vast costs associated with the Fringe has made performing and attending impossible for many.
Yet despite these drawbacks of being a promoter amidst a cost-of-living crisis, Skillis remains optimistic about the upcoming month.
“My expectation is that it’s going to be good.” With lineups of local heroes, a collaboration with Sneaky Pete’s residents, Ride n Bounce, and some of the capital’s favorite drag queens on host duties, each Monday of the Fringe is set to be a joyously queer, two-step-filled belter.
Headset’s Gay Garage, Sneaky Pete’s, every Monday of the Fringe
Words: Myrtle Boot
Image: courtesy of Gay Garage
Unfit For A King
Who is festival season for, anyways? Spoken word poet Oliver Robertson reflects on finding creativity in community, bringing working class Scottish stories to an international stage and the importance of the Free Fringe, for artists and audiences alike.
In Primary Five, I had made it. Cast as the main character, the king, in the school play – buzzing oot my trolley. Until, that is, the teacher reconsidered, deciding my talents were more suited as the back stage narrator. I howled to my mum, folds of tears emulating my despair of losing my first big break. She treated me to a look about Blockbusters before returning to my loving council house where we lived with nanny and papa.
Secondary school did not facilitate my dreams of being on stage. With no drama department at my secondary school, I felt being creative just wasn’t for people like me. By the time a panto got put into production in my sixth year, my gnawing for social reputational points meant I could not be seen to be uncool in this way.
It was not until adulthood that I leaned into my creative side. Journaling about how terrible the world was, I noticed a rhythm to my writing. Gave my work a quick review and decided to perform at an open mic. I was terrible but I finally had an outlet for my desire to perform.
Now, I am bringing my life’s work, weaving poems, stories and jokes, to the Edinburgh Free Fringe in a spoken word show: Wellpark Wanderer Deep into the preparation I ask myself, is this for people like me? Could it all be taken away after a meal-deal reconsideration like the teacher did all those years ago?
My maw always said that I was inquisitive as a wean. She would get fed up with me asking questions – from the pyramids in Egypt to the ants in Glasgow Green. Her response: “I don’t know, let’s look at an encyclopaedia in the library.” Offering free access to a world of knowledge, Dennistoun Library holds a special place in my heart. The etching on the sandstone alluring, warm carpets and flaky plastering hold me tight, mums and children bouncing and rhyming tops up my joyfulness. It’s here where I draw my inspiration for my work.
Around the same time I started writing, I also became active in Living Rent, Scotland’s tenants and community union. Through this and self-discovery, I first encountered songs of Matt McGinn, poems by Freddie Anderson and the plays of housing activist Cathy McCormack. It was proof that I could overcome the stigma of being creative. This is the stock I am proud to come from – paving the way for working class writers and performers for generations to come.
Contemporary, unapologetic working class stories from Scotland – the likes of Ely Percy’s Duck Feet, Graeme Armstrong’s The Young Team and Eilidh Loan’s Moorcroft – have added to the power in which writers before them gave. We all have stories to tell, no matter what our class background is, and we should not be ashamed to shout it from the top of Bluevale flats (now demolished, miss you).
Words: Oliver Robertson Illustration: Magda Michalak
‘It was proof that I could overcome the stigma of being creative’
I’ve been in writing groups where we champion each other: encouraging one another to go for that opportunity, reviewing shared work, giving hands to those who need a gentle pull. I have also been in groups where poems from 1890 are dissected and everyone chimes in with an insightful comment which is aimed at outperforming the previous. It’s easy to get discouraged with the latter – not being comfortable in thoughtful point scoring, not trained for polite disagreements on art. It’s all subjective anyway, right? It’s in these circles that I would get asked, “Have you had anything published?” I was convinced that this is the path poets should take: I started submitting to publishers, got my hopes up. Nothing in return. It is easy to blame others – I didn’t get the same opportunities as them or they are conditioned to be successful in this sphere. But I took a long look in the mirror, glossing over a new wrinkle, and thought back to that desire to be the king. Is having a printed collection of work the real driver of mine? It never has, possibly never will. My attention refocused towards a real dream: to deliver my longest performance piece. That is when the opportunity to apply for the Free Fringe arose. Now, I’m preparing to climb those 15 flights of Bluevale’s high rise stairs, and shout from the rooftops. I wouldn’t be doing this without the existence of the Free Fringe. I’ve heard stories of performers hustling just to break even after hiring an expensive venue. I am not a gambling man and I don’t intend to put myself through that just to make art. Without the Free Fringe, I wouldn’t have a venue to weave the pattern of my stories together, to maybe fail, to maybe be a success, to make a point or to point elbows. I will be in Edinburgh in August. I will be in front of people. I won’t be a king but I will be me. A wanderer looking for a stage. To develop James Connolly, our demands are most moderate. We only want the stage.
Total transformation is only a few dozen lonely days away. One writer unpacks our endless fixation with daily challenges and questions whether there’s more to life than self-discipline
I’ve always been one to love a transformation. I grew up watching makeover TV, writing new year’s resolutions and methodically planning my back-to-school outfits. I took every chance I got to reinvent myself and became an expert in the art of making a noteworthy comeback.
With this in mind, I was not surprised when I first noticed a shift, a few months ago, in the content my social media algorithm was pushing. “Change Your Life in 90 Days,” YouTube told me; “Enter Your Winter Arc,” TikTok replied. I had received a new gospel: a 90 day challenge. In the fitness space, 90 day challenges and other time-constrained programmes are nothing new, but the 2020s social media pivot to video allowed them to transition from solely fitness into overall lifestyle, integrating financial, professional and personal goals, and maximising their output with an endless stream of variants across TikTok, Instagram and YouTube. Last October’s #WinterArc was a chance to leverage the winter months to become ‘laser-focused on your goals’ and ‘level up’ by 2025. The shorter but bolder #75Hard, a ‘mental toughness programme,’ is this year’s favourite with its strict (and potentially dangerous) routine of daily 90 minute workouts – no rest, no cheat!
Whatever name the trend comes up with next, its core idea remains unchanged: that with enough self-discipline, you too can change your life. Every challenge begins with setting precise goals, broken down into a host of daily activities to be diligently repeated across 90 days; long enough to build new habits, short enough to be marketable. Repetition is achieved through discipline, and that discipline can only be developed in isolation. Some challenges demand abstinence from social life – going ‘ghost’, cutting ‘time-wasters’ – in others, isolation is a by-product. After all, how much time will nearly two hours of daily workouts leave you with? The final (and perhaps most integral) ingredient is technology mediated performance. The change you embark on requires an audience, and that audience should understand the miracle of your transformation thanks to a flow of progress pictures and carefully edited training videos. Indeed, short form video was the ideal medium for this mindset to flourish, because it shows both the performance of hard work and its outcome, and it has the worldwide reach to bring in new converts in minutes.
The 90 Day Challenge (and its counterparts) is where managerialism meets gamification meets evangelism: the promise of total transformation
Words: Mayanne Soret Illustration: Benny Douet
‘We’ve grown so accustomed to survival we don’t even remember what it is we’re surviving’
through the atomic fractioning of one’s time, all under the watchful eye of the social media panopticon. Maybe I’m too cynical. Maybe this is a positive social movement empowering people to take control of their lives. But, in all honesty, I think it’s something far more sinister: propaganda. In the ideology of the 90 Day Challenge, the only thing standing between you and your goals is yourself. At its heart is the idea that our capacity for individualised labour makes us virtuous, and that hard work always pays off. A good life, we’re told, is one spent in the constant grind of self-improvement and optimisation. Behind this social media entertainment is the neo-liberal subtext that individualism, self-reliance and labour power are inherently moral and liberatory.
Before you come at me – I get it: having a clear vision of your goals and how to measure (and celebrate) your successes can be meaningful. Being neurodivergent myself, I am acutely aware of this: planning and consistency are integral to my wellbeing. But it also often feels that if I do not micro-manage my life like a Fordist factory floor, I’ll cease to exist entirely. These systems are how I care for myself, sure, but they are also how I survive, how I bypass the inaccessibility of an ableist system.
There is a line between self-improvement and survival that these challenges are too happy to cross. This level of personal management is always violent – no matter who it’s intended for. Do you ever stop to consider why we live in a world so painful that the only way we feel powerful enough to survive it is through a punitive 75 days of daily workouts or three months of diligent habit tracking and no affection? And for what? To be ready for the next quarter, for the next year, for the next challenge? Will we keep optimising into oblivion as life gets harder? 60 Days. 30 Days. Everyday. We’ve grown so accustomed to survival we don’t even remember what it is we’re surviving.
A 90 day challenge won’t save you. An endless quest for self-discipline will not change the external circumstances that have pushed you into survival. At the risk of sounding soft and *gasp!* undisciplined… maybe there is no better self than the one you are now. maybe this is already your best life. What happens when you let yourself believe that?
Lost Boys
We chat with Glasgow author Chris McQueer on his debut novel Hermit ahead of his appearance at the Govanhill International Festival
Words: Louis Cammell
Chris McQueer’s debut novel Hermit, which came out in February, was released into an unexpected cultural zeitgeist. In the last six years since he started writing his book, incel culture has gone from a fringe topic to something a whole lot more mainstream: the Jack Thorne-penned, Stephen Graham-fronted Netflix drama Adolescence came out; Keir Starmer, in one of his desperate attempts to seem switched on, espoused the need to educate young boys on the dangers of online forums; and a general hum that bordered on mass hysteria filled the air.
Suddenly McQueer, who had been quietly working away on a book about incels – still a relatively fringe topic when he started back in 2018 – found himself being asked about them as some kind of unofficial expert. It was a lot. “I was, at the end of the day, just trying to write an entertaining novel,” he says. Here was a guy who, just a couple of years earlier, was writing funny short stories that he posted online. Promoting the short story collections that had emerged out of them – 2017’s Hings and 2019’s HWFG, both of which cemented McQueer as a slightly surreal, frenetic storyteller – involved answering questions like ‘Where do you get your mad ideas from?’ For Hermit though, which is an altogether more grounded tale, it was: ‘How do we reach these young men? How do we help them? What do we do about toxic masculinity?’ “[And I’m like] fuck, I don’t know,” he laughs.
In actual fact, Hermit didn’t start as a novel about incels (which, for anyone who is chronically offline, is an abbreviation of the term ‘involuntary celibate’; an online movement of disenfranchised guys who have defined themselves by their inability to attract a sexual partner). It was, originally, a story set against the backdrop of the end of the world. Featuring the same two characters – single mum Fiona and her agoraphobic son Jamie – it was their dynamic that he wanted to explore, having himself been raised by a single parent in the East End of Glasgow, where the book is set. His idea was that nuclear fallout had driven them inside, “[but] I got sort of halfway through and I was like, ‘this is shit.’ Like, it just was not working at all,” says McQueer. Other than a background charge of doom, “it didn’t add anything to the story, do you know what I mean? It just felt like a ripoff of [Cormac McCarthy’s] The Road.”
“The stuff I was seeing on [forums], it was horrible”
But when the first mainstream news articles started to break about an online community who speak in code, stay indoors and engage in conspiracy in the internet’s dark corners, McQueer saw a new path for Jamie that seemed to fit his disposition and was rooted in the here and now. One that would start McQueer down a bleak and depressing road, as far as research was concerned. “The stuff I was seeing on [forums], it was horrible,” he says. Young men were spending their time systematically breaking down each other’s self-esteem, he explained, while simultaneously coaxing out their generalised rage; galvanising it into a misogynistic worldview. With no support network around him and predisposed to catastrophism, Jamie falls down the rabbit hole. We watch a maladjusted young man, who might just need another year or
two to grow into himself, go – little by little – beyond the point of no return. The book’s great strength is also what makes it a chilling read: it is deeply humanising. Through the first-person chapters that alternate between his and his long-suffering mother’s point of view, we can see – even if we don’t approve – exactly how Jamie ends up there. And the same is true for Fiona, towards whom any potential judgements about her parenting are allayed by McQueer’s delicate handling of the past abuses she has suffered and their lasting impacts on her confidence. “The book wasn’t written to be nonfiction,” says McQueer. In other words, Hermit isn’t an anthropological study. It may not answer why this kind of thing happens to everyone, but neither does it carry the whiff of detached judgement that a book like this might hold. Instead, in zeroing in on one household, it asks us to empathise, not condemn.
McQueer may have ditched his first draft of Hermit, in which the end of the world drove his characters to solitude, but what he ended up with was a book in which solitude drives them to want to disappear completely. Hermit is unlikely to be the last book written on incel culture, nor is it likely to be the most comprehensive. But perhaps, in its ability to make us think of someone we know – our neighbour’s son, a cousin, someone we went to school with – it might just prove the most lasting.
Hermit is out now with Wildfire
Chris McQueer will be appearing at Govanhill International Festival, Glasgow on 9 Aug at 10.30am
Photo: Euan Anderson
Chris McQueer
FRINGE 2025
SEASON
Lifting Lines
Ahead of the Glasgow band releasing their debut album, Learning Greek, we catch up with Humour frontman Andreas Christodoulidis
When Andreas Christodoulidis arrives for our interview, it feels as though the sun has come out. Far from the moody angst-rocker of my imagination, he radiates a warmth and energy, not just about his music, but about life in general. At first this feels slightly at odds with the a ressive power of the songs on Learning Greek, his band’s debut album. But Humour have been on their own journey, and Christodoulidis describes the more gentle beginnings to their first musical forays.
“We wanted to sound like The National!” he admits. “It wasn’t really until lockdown that the music we were listening to became a bit punkier. A lot of American bands like Protomartyr, Preoccupations, people like that. And that’s when we made a conscious decision to make it heavier.”
This energy fizzes across Learning Greek, with tracks like Memorial and In the Paddies burning with a righteous anger. At its heart, however, this is an album about identity, and a sense of yearning for belonging. “Both my parents are Greek, but I grew up speaking mostly English,” says Christodoulidis. “Which is why my Greek is not as good as it should be. Growing up my sister and I always joked about being cultural nomads. In Greece, people consider us Scottish, but then at
school we were always considered Greek. So, you never feel like you are fully in either camp.”
It’s a sentiment that will resonate with the increasing numbers of mixed-race Scots across the country. So why Learning Greek? “A lot of the songs we’d already written had this theme of nostalgia, and in some ways, regret. Recently I decided to start learning Greek again as a way of reconnecting with myself, and with my family. And the sense that this side of my life might slip away if I didn’t make an effort to hold on to it.”
As the sole lyricist, Christodoulidis has his work cut out. Does he stick to a routine, or just wait for the magic to happen? “I go through phases of writing, and then not writing and starting to panic! On my phone I have notes of ideas I wake up with, and also pieces that I’ve read – in books, films, anything. And that often really helps to spark things.” This speaks directly to one of Learning Greek’s standout tracks –Plagiarist – with its arresting lyrical confession: ‘I’ve lifted every line’. Is he simply following in the long line of musical magpies?
“I find it really exciting when you notice that someone has taken a line from a famous poem, or you can spot little influences in lyrics. It’s the same with visual art [Christodoulidis is himself an
Words: Andrew Williams
art tutor], one painting can be a homage to another. And quite often the source will be unrecognisable in the song – but it’s that stimulus, that starting point, that makes it work.”
The title track, a mere 59 seconds long, centres around a recording of Christodoulidis with his father, studying a translation of a Greek poem. It’s moving, arresting, and a perfect interlude in the frenetic pace of the album. What did his Dad make of it? “I think he was a bit confused! The other day I was showing him that we were on BBC 6Music, with Memorial, another song which he features on, and he was like, ‘Is that me?!’ But that song was inspired by one of his favourite Greek poems, and I think he liked the way I had interpreted it.”
Photo:
“I find it really exciting when you notice that someone has taken a line from a famous poem, or you can spot little influences in lyrics”
Andreas Christodoulidis, Humour
Was there ever a su estion that the Greek influences might extend to the instrumentation?
Franz Ferdinand, another Scottish band with Greek connections, had a track on their most recent album which saw them try a take on traditional rebetiko music. “Growing up, I didn’t want to listen to Greek music,” Christodoulidis confesses. “It wouldn’t have been cool. But I listen to it a lot more now, and it’s so beautiful, so unique. I really wish we could have had something like that on the album.”
Learning Greek marks the latest success story for Rod Jones and his Post Electric studios in Edinburgh, a stable already home to Hamish Hawk and rEDOLENT. Whatever Jones is doing, it’s creating something special, in very different genres of music. So, what does the future hold for Humour? “We’re playing across the UK in December, but from there we don’t really know. I think we want to let it develop organically. I always say this when I’m tutoring art – you shouldn’t know what it’s going to look like at the end, because if you do, you aren’t really finding anything out. You should be surprised. If you know what it’s going to be – if it’s that easy – then what’s the point?”
Learning Greek is released on 8 Aug via So Young Records
Humour play instores at Assai Records, Edinburgh and Glasgow, 14 Aug; King Tut’s, Glasgow, 6 Dec instagram.com/humour_music
Megan Di Pinto
A Blank Canvas
Fresh from their opening night with Theo Bleak in June, we look to the future and catch up with the team behind Dundee’s latest venue – CANVAS
Venue closures have become tragically common of late. From beloved music stages to popular pubs and restaurants, tough times have hit many businesses across the country, with Dundee in particular seeing many of its nightlife offerings disappear in recent years. This is just one of the reasons which makes its newest opening, CANVAS, so important.
Based in the red brick brewhouse of local craft beermakers 71 Brewing, the multi-purpose venue is already sparking excitement among Dundonians since opening earlier this summer. Split across an indoor event space and outside area, the versatility of CANVAS as a creative hub for gigs, club nights, food pop-ups and markets is hard to find elsewhere in Dundee. Its first few events – including an opening night show with Theo Bleak, Dundee Brew Fest 2025, DJ sets from former Reading Rooms stalwarts and pop-ups from Jim’s Delhi Club and Land O’ Spex – were resoundingly successful. But the team behind CANVAS are no fools: they know first-hand just how tough it is to operate local venues today. “In the midst of bringing CANVAS together, we’d already opened and closed a small bar and music venue,” explains Duncan Alexander, owner of CANVAS and 71
Brewing. “It’s been a bit of an arduous journey, but we’ve definitely learned a lot coming into this and we’re excited for what lies ahead.”
Ten years since its inception, the 71 Brewing team’s community-focused ethos flows through CANVAS, whilst also allowing space for the venue to have an identity of its own. “The vision for CANVAS has evolved as different people have come on board, including [Managing Director] Neil Mowat who has a wealth of experience from The Arches in Glasgow,” says Alexander. “But it’s not really about us – we want CANVAS to be the glue to showcase what’s happening in Dundee; a versatile facility for people to come in and do their own thing; a blank canvas, in essence.”
As such, there’s no shortage of potential for what CANVAS can offer. Operations and Events Manager, Paddy Devlin, mentions that catering to changes in people’s tastes has been key to curating their bookings. “I think since COVID-19, people in Dundee have been preferring to go out earlier for all-day events and finish up earlier at night, rather than partying into the late hours,” he says. “It gives us the opportunity to cater to various audiences by having different elements throughout the day such as food, pop-up stalls and music.”
“We want CANVAS to be the glue to showcase what’s happening in Dundee”
Duncan Alexander
Down the line, they’re open to exploring as much as possible. “We’re looking at having a skatepark, a wrestling ring for an event, you name it,” Devlin laughs. “It’s such a multi-purpose space that can be used in various ways. There’s a real underground scene here in Dundee without many stages to show it, so we’d like to help do that, as well as pull in promoters from other cities to book shows here. The responses so far have been fantastic, and we’re hoping the place can skyrocket in the coming months.”
Drinks-wise, you couldn’t be better placed than in a brewery. As well as 71 Brewing’s own lagers, pale ales and sours, they’ve also sourced spirits from local distillers to give their drinks menu a distinct Tayside flavour. On top of that, beer tastings and experiences are available to book in its brewhouse downstairs.
The team have also been nifty in prioritising sustainability for CANVAS by designing their own eco-friendly heating/cooling system. “We received some funding from Scottish Enterprise to put towards our system, which works much like our beer pipes heating up and cooling down, effectively giving us 60 to 70 per cent of free heating and cooling,” says Alexander. “We’ve also worked with local designers Draff Studio to create our bar and other furniture out of spent malt, which has been amazing to see come to life.”
With the recent announcement of The SAY Award confirmed to take place in Dundee for the next three years, the city’s cultural reputation is becoming more tangible to others across Scotland. CANVAS will be sponsoring the event and have plans in place for spin-off events. For now, spirits are high, and CANVAS looks to be just what the city’s creative scene needs. “We feel like this is a different kind of venue for the city,” says Marketing Manager, Janet Anderson. “It’s not just for live music – people can discover new things, try something new instead of their normal haunts and enjoy themselves.”
“Our initial measure for success was how many event listings we could get in The Skinny each month!” Alexander enthuses. “We’re looking at doubling the capacity to 1,000 by making an extra upstairs level, as well as continuing to utilise our outdoor space as much as possible. There’s still plenty of room to progress.”
instagram.com/canvasdundee
Words: Jamie Wilde
Photo: Jamie Gillespie for Soul Daze
Stop 14 Yellow Route: Govan Stones
ASSEMBLY ROXY: ROXYBOXY
Everyday Burdens
Ahead of their appearance at Edinburgh Psych Fest, we speak to La Sécurité’s Éliane Viens-Synnott about why she’s on a mission to connect everyday events to our collective humanity
It’s special when the more mundane parts of day-to-day life as a human can be transformed through the lyrics and bouncy feeling you get from a post-punk tune. The themes and groove enmeshed in Montreal-based art-punk collective La Sécurité have a way of layering dull events with the relationships that make being human not-half bad after all.
“I enjoy using these very simplistic images as the base layer and then add all these hidden meanings that mean things to me,” La Sécurité’s Éliane Viens-Synnott begins to share over a Zoom call that catches her early in the day with a cup of coffee in hand. “ I’m thinking about it more now because we’re wrapping up the second album,” adds, ahead of the band’s forthcoming visit to the capital at the end of August for Edinburgh Psych Fest.
Following the release of their debut album Stay Safe! in 2023, late last year La Sécurité released its follow-up single Detour, which crashed into fans’ ears with a focus on the drag those of us who drive are forced to deal with: traffic. The single is a local spotlight on the band’s homebase, as Viens-Synnott shares, however her lyricism about meandering around the city’s back roads shines a positive light on the subject: ‘There is a road, a short break / But the detour is more scenic’.
“There’s just constantly roads closed and the joy of the summer is finding a detour when you’re
driving somewhere,” Viens-Synnott explains, detailing how she then builds the song from her simple image of just finding a way to get where you’re going; “ life challenges, being there for one another and staying patient.” Her lyrics are able to humanise experiences usually felt as such an everyday burden.
Even more indicative of the way ViensSynnott is able to explore the most human of experiences, most importantly our relationships to one another, she shares that, “the band was started with Félix and I as a partnership and now we’re friends. So there’s this dynamic that we’re exploring through the second record.” La Sécurité is a super-group made up of Montreal musicians who started the collective as a side-project during the pandemic.
Alongside bassist Félix Bélisle, who is also the lead singer of Montreal Choses Sauvages, ViensSynnott is the lead singer of La Sécurité. She says that “there [are] variations. I’m a drummer as well, so sometimes I’ll hop on the drums and Kenny [Smith] will play guitar and it’ll totally change the vibe. On the new record, the girls are more present, they each have one song that they sing on.” Laurence-Anne Charest-Gagné has a solo pop project and in La Sécurité plays guitar. Kenny Smith is a multi-instrumentalist and when she’s not playing guitar for the band, Melissa Di Menna runs a screen printing company that prints half the merch
Words: Billie Estrine
“Whenever my phone dies, I’ll just write on whatever I find”
Éliane Viens-Synnott, La Sécurité
for Montreal bands. Di Menna is also an artist and has created all the artwork for the records, posters, and merch La Sécurité has put out.
Ketchup, La Sécurité’s newest single is a cathartic takedown of one of the most hated exchanges between strangers and friends alike: small-talk. It can be annoying and sometimes it can be cute; however most of the time it’s just a habit we’re obliged to perform. As Viens-Synnott scat sings in French, she has an equally sassy, angry and sarcastic cadence, reminiscent of Kathleen Hanna’s The Julie Ruin era.
Photo: Joel Thomas
Viens-Synnott’s Canadian roots have equipped her with multiple language skills. Her bilingual talents are obvious from Ketchup being sung completely in French, along with the French and English heard across Stay Safe! “ I’m bilingual since childhood, but I’m probably the only [band member] that’s most comfortable writing in English. If we’re writing something together we’ll do it in French and I’ll tend to have weird grammatical things come up when I speak.” These grammatical oddities Viens-Synnott refers to can be attributed to her doing her secondary schooling in English.
When writing collectively, La Sécurité are able to create wordplay that wouldn’t be able to happen otherwise. Viens-Synnott explains that “they’ll tune it up a little for me and that’s how we’ve come up with weird expressions or lines that aren’t exactly said in either language. That’s just the beauty of Montreal.”
There’s a diversity to how La Sécurité creates. When the collective work collaboratively they put together these wonderful grammatical puzzles. The majority of the time though, little scraps of paper become a canvas for Viens-Synnott to create songs when she’s out and about and her phone dies. “For words, I have all these little notebooks and pieces of napkins.” She goes on to share the regularity of these occurrences: “I’m notorious for having my phone dying wherever I am. Whenever my phone dies, I’ll just write on whatever I find.” While La Sécurité will only be in Edinburgh for 24 hours to play Psych Fest, who knows, maybe our city’s napkins can be the starting place for the collective’s third album.
La Sécurité play Edinburgh Psych Fest, 31 Aug instagram.com/la_securite_avant_tout edinburghpsychfest.com
Opportunity Knocks
We catch up with Bemz ahead of the sophomore outing of M4 Festival to talk creating opportunities and his love for the Scottish music scene
Jubemi Iyiku, aka Bemz, joins our 4pm Zoom call with his camera switched off. “Sorry for the raspy voice,” he says, “the weekend took it out of me… I’m not gonna lie, I am in bed.”
He’s just headlined Friday night’s BBC Introducing stage at TRNSMT and returned as host on the Sunday in amongst what is already an incredibly busy summer for him – so I guess we’ll allow it.
Bemz last played TRNSMT three years ago, opening the same stage in the significantly less glamorous 12.40pm timeslot. He points out that there hasn’t been another Scottish rapper on that stage in the intervening years – for him, that’s a sign something is missing from the Scottish music scene, a lack of opportunities for early-career artists similar to him. He wanted to create those opportunities himself, which is why he launched his own M4 Festival.
“I was looking at all the other major festivals and stuff like that happening in Scotland and I just didn’t really see anybody who was making my sort of music, or R’n’B or anything like that. So it kind of felt like it was something that the scene needed – to get its own things, rather than looking elsewhere.”
Iyiku has been running events under the M4 banner for a while – small gigs and DJ nights with the goal of inclusivity and creative space for the next generation of musicians coming through (M4 stands for the commitment that it’s ‘made for’ everyone). But the launch of the festival last year marked a shift in scale for him and his team of friends and family who make it happen.
Since his earliest successes Bemz has made a point of trying to share the spotlight with other young artists coming up behind or alongside him – I personally have seen him live five times in a variety of environments, from festival headline slots to industry events, to a mixed bill event in a bar where he was playing to 20 people. Each and every time he’s brought a friend or collaborator on stage to join him for a song, and maybe even perform one of their own.
It’s a hallmark of any Bemz appearance, this sense that opportunity can be magnetic; that he is fortunate and wants to pass that fortune on to his peers. M4 Festival is no different – the idea originally came from plans for a headline show where he asked himself how they could platform as many
Words: Laurie Presswood
“I was looking at all the other major festivals happening in Scotland and I just didn’t really see anybody who was making my sort of music”
Jubemi Iyiku, aka Bemz
young up-and-coming artists as possible in one go. First it was ‘why not make it an all-dayer’, next it was ‘why not have a DJ stage?’ And then, just like that, he was organising a festival.
This year’s lineup features the likes of Tayoh, an Edinburgh-based singer whose cross-genre output ranges from soul, to slacker, to disco-inspired. Also appearing are Afrobeat artist Pillz the Energizer and LAMAYA, who, barely in her twenties, already has the star power of a seasoned performer. As Iyiku runs us through the acts, telling us about everyone he’s been keeping an eye on, it’s striking how close a continued attention he pays to Scotland’s music scene. He may self-effacingly call it being “chronically online”, but on top of a full-time music career and young family to take care of, he’s basically doing the work of a professional promoter, and doing it well.
With this year’s shift to the 500-capacity SWG3 Warehouse he admits he’s nervous: “Growth is a scary process... In this current climate with so many shows being on and ticket prices being at an all-time high, it puts a lot of pressure on the smaller things.” If people are shelling out over £100 for an Oasis ticket they don’t then tend to spend £15 a month in the runup going to support grassroots events.
Even so, he says they try not to get drawn into booking people because they have a following and will sell tickets.
“It’s actually more about booking people because they deserve to be booked... Obviously, you know, the ticket things are still important, but that’s for me to stress about.” He understands it’s the promoter’s job to get talented artists in front of audiences, to help get them the following they deserve to have. And he believes that talent is there: “Scotland is filled with talent, and if you’re actively looking for it, you will find it.”
M4 Festival takes place at SWG3, Glasgow, 30 Aug instagram.com/m4festival
Photo: Kate Johnston
Bemz at TRNSMT
PREVIOUS PERFORMERS INCLUDE
JASON BYRNE • NINA CONTI
PHIL WANG • FERN BRADY • IVO GRAHAM
DAVID O’DOHERTY • SAM CAMPBELL
JOANNE MCNALLY • LARRY DEAN
AMY GLEDHILL • IAN SMITH • FLO & JOAN
OLGA KOCH • AHIR SHAH • CHLOE PETTS
PIERRE NOVELLIE • AND MANY MORE! For daily line-ups see underbellyedinburgh.co.uk
From the award-winning creators of
Album of the Month
CMAT — EURO-COUNTRY
Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson’s singular brand of fun and heartfelt emotion glows brighter with every new song she pens. The Irish country-pop heroine’s rise to fame has come incredibly quickly, having released her debut album only three years ago. For some, the pressure can become too much to handle. But for CMAT, on album three Euro-Country, she masters her endearing brand of wide-eyed drama and self-depreciation.
Opening with swells of ocean waves and an Irish spoken passage, she reckons with her Irish identity across Euro-Country, particularly on its title track. Its anthemic choruses are laced with melancholy. CMAT references how she, and many of Ireland’s young people today, have lived with the economic collapse of the Celtic Tiger, forcing many to emigrate due to a lack of opportunity. This latter point is explored further on Ready, highlighting CMAT’s own fractured relationship with home and the shared feelings of many other Irish people.
The attention that’s come with CMAT’s newfound fame is explored on Take a Sexy Picture of Me. Written after toxic comments she received on Instagram following a BBC live performance, the song tackling body-shaming is the album’s
most prolific blend of fun and sadness, as well as being its most viral track with the fan-created ‘woke macarena’ dance. Running/Planning is another stand-out that’s borne out of rumination, while The Jamie Oliver Petrol Station’s catchy chorus lines and meta-lyrics of ‘making no sense to the average listener’ gives further glimpses into CMAT’s burgeoning confidence as a songwriter. There’s also tasteful nods to her country roots in Tree Six Foive and When a Good Man Cries.
Grief also permeates, particularly on Lord, Let That Tesla Crash, written by CMAT in tribute to her friend and collaborator who died suddenly while the album was in progress, shifting her outlook towards a more emotionally mature tone of writing in the process: ‘I don’t miss you like I should / But I’d kill myself to find out if you think this song is good’.
Euro-Country’s thematic depth is incredibly impressive. Its flair easily distances itself from her previous two albums. But what pushes it further is the talent of an artist who has evidently dug deep to make the best record of their career. Vocally, lyrically, creatively, CMAT has never sounded better. In truth, you’d be hard pushed to find another record like this one. [Jamie Wilde]
Listen to: Take a Sexy Picture of Me, Lord, Let That Tesla Crash
Amaarae Black Star Out 8 Aug via Golden Child Entertainment / Interscope Records
The Black Keys No Rain, No Flowers Out 8 Aug via Easy Eye Sound/Parlophone Records
Wolf Alice The Clearing Out 22 Aug via RCA
Royel Otis hickey Out 22 Aug via OURNESS / Capitol Records
Sabrina Carpenter Man’s Best Friend Out 29 Aug via Island
Laufey
A Matter of Time
Vingolf Recordings / AWAL, 22 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: A Cautionary Tale, Snow White, Too Little, Too Late
Laufey’s long-awaited third album is a storybook of hidden truths and time’s curse. The opening chimes of Clockwork signal our return to Laufey Land. Through twisting fairytales, we see past facades. The rosy Lover Girl fades into Snow White, where beauty standards are dissected through this fairytale icon. With gentle guitars and cascading strings, Laufey puts it plainly: ‘A woman’s best currency is her body, not her brain’. She tricks us through twinkling sugary keys in Carousel, scorning her tendency to sabotage relationships.
Laufey dashes between flushes of romance and laments of lost love. Lover Girl, this record’s From the Start, wears the strongest rose-coloured glasses. Similarly colloquial breakup anthem Tough Luck is nevertheless an arena-ready belter. While Clockwork lays cards of romantic destiny, the ticking time bomb rhythm of A Cautionary Tale foretells its demise and her unbroken cycle of heartbreak. In closer Sabotage, she becomes the one cautioning: ‘It’s just a matter of time ‘til you see the da er’. Gentle pianos are ambushed by screeching tremolos – the storybook is closed.
If previous releases made Laufey Gen Z’s jazz-pop queen, A Matter of Time affirms the title.
[Juliette Pepin]
The press release for The Passionate Ones describes the latest record by Marcus Brown’s Nourished by Time as a sermon “howled from the underbelly of late-stage capitalism.” Anyone who’s seen the Baltimore-born artist perform knows he has the magnetism of a preacher, and like any shaman worth his salt, he has a gospel to spread. However, this isn’t a fire-andbrimstone tirade but a soulful manifesto on how to stay human in a dehumanising world. Combining 90s R’n’B and synth-pop with an avantgarde sensibility, Brown crafts mid-tempo jams that map politics onto personal experience.
On the piano-led 9 2 5, he laments capitalism’s chokehold on creativity: ‘You know he’s got a purpose, but he’s always working / Tryna beat the system, manifest a vision’, his delivery, weary but resolute, like a man hastily writing down lyrics between shifts. Elsewhere, BABY BABY swings from wry romantic lines like ‘I need a girl to cause a little civil unrest’ to a gut-punch couplet that anchors the album’s politics: ‘If you can bomb Palestine / You can bomb Mondawmin’. A work of emotional clarity and quiet resolve, The Passionate Ones is a timely reminder that tenderness can be its own form of resistance. [Patrick Gamble]
Like Plasticine Mushroom Music, 8 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: Cutting Room Floor, Peripheral Lover, PVC Divide
There seems to be a veil of COVID amnesia around the world. Did it really happen or are the horrors just history to be forgotten? Australian Sophie Payten attempts to make sense of what she faced as a frontline doctor during the pandemic on her third album as Gordi, in the process giving us what we need – a warm hug filled with empathy and hope.
With twitchy synths, rootsy loops and delicate strummed guitar or plinky piano her brand of folktronica deals with difficult topics but always makes you feel uplifted. Take PVC Divide (ft. Anaïs Mitchell) which lays bare the horror of her COVID as she sings: ‘She said, did you watch them die on FaceTime?’
But the album succeeds so well because rather than misery, Payten also fills you with joy on songs like Head Rush, a bombastic Robyn-style banger, the defiant Cutting Room Floor, a song which looks forward to her second act after coming out and Peripheral Lover, another catchy dance track with Payten making sure we know, that despite everything she’s been through, she’s having fun.
[Rick Fulton]
Water From Your Eyes It’s a Beautiful Place Matador, 22 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: Playing Classic, Nights in Armor, Born 2
Get to my age and music becomes a mark of time slipping away. Water From Your Eyes took the red eye from my adolescence into adulthood, slipping in with their early career hit Adeleine a gem from high school. Barley was a walk from my dorm to class, and Playing Classics can now soundtrack my trek to work. Checking in every few years has felt like watching a friend grow in and out of phases, and their trajectory has never felt as content and mature as on It’s a Beautiful Place. While 2023’s Everyone’s Crushed will likely go down as their definitive record, they’ve found time to strip down their sound and flex their newfound writing chops.
They’ve certainly chosen an interesting spotlight to cast them in, with It’s a Beautiful Place barely reaching 30 minutes; it gains context when hearing the average guitar line could’ve landed on Miles Davis’ Live-Evil. While the material is scarce, the quality is a renewable resource on par with a nuclear fusion plant. Choruses hum, drumlines bounce, and there’s always enough subversion for leftovers. Bringing back the friend growing up analogy, it’s refreshing to have one finally find their place and stick around a while. [Noah Barker]
Listen to: 9 2 5, BABY BABY, Jojo
Gordi
Ethel Cain
Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You
Daughters of Cain Records, 8 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: Janie, Dust Bowl, A Knock at the Door
A prequel to debut album Preacher’s Daughter, Ethel Cain’s sophomore record creates an ethereal collection of memories, which paint the picture of her first love. Janie sets a sombre and retrospective tone. Young and stuck in her hometown, Cain looks back on the crushing experience of an old love finding the next person to hold onto. The universe seems miniscule because your hometown is this inescapable place and she uses a chunky electric chord progression to express that feeling, resembling the end of the world.
Throughout the record Cain creates an ocean of time for instrumental sections to crash between songs. These parts can trail on. Though, at other times these transitions from instrumental back into Cain’s lyrical magic, as on Willoughby’s Interlude into Dust Bowl, is a highlight. The latter captures the honeymoon horniness that first love creates and has never been felt before. That feeling especially comes through in the way she speeds up the track and then slows it back down. On Willoughby Tucker, I’ll Always Love You Cain has once again been able to translate incredibly personal experiences into deeply universal feelings that come from young love and heartbreak. [Billie Estrine]
Hot Mulligan
The Sound a Body Makes When It’s Still
Wax Bodega, 22 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: And a Big Load, Island in the Sun, Cream of Wheat of Feet Naw Cream of (Feat)
Hot Mulligan and the emo resurgence go together like a checked flannel shirt and beaten-up Vans. Fronting the genre’s uptick, the band’s embracing of twanging, capo-clipped guitars with fast-cutting riffs, and co-vocalists locked in a shouting match between cleans and screams has seen them cultivate the craft to new levels – and now, they’re marking their territory as modern scene leaders.
The Sound a Body Makes When
It’s Still swaths on a thick, glossy coat of production that’s still translucent enough not to mask their bare-knuckled DIY aesthetic. Lurking behind silly song titles lies brutally honest lyricism on self-existentialism, loneliness, and the consequences of our choices, delivered through Tades Sansville’s now-synonymous vocal-chord-shredding shrieks. These themes of inner turmoil dance over bouncy tracks and encapsulate the beautiful irony of Hot Mulligan’s signature sound – it’s emo music that often sounds, well, joyful.
While TSABMWIS doesn’t necessarily reinvent the wheel, it’s another collection of consistently hook-heavy, happy-clappy choruses, and belt-along lines that continues their trend of honing the fine emo craft and marks Hot Mulligan as a band atop the genre’s bill. [Dylan Tuck]
Mac DeMarco Guitar
Mac’s Record Label, 22 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: Home, Shining
Mac DeMarco’s sixth album comes after a collection of languid instrumentals and a mass ephemera dump, making it his first ‘proper’ one in six years. Guitar reaffirms his commitment to relaxed simplicity that began after rising to fame over a decade ago. Unfussy arrangements and straightforward lyrics speak to the recent peace DeMarco has found after years of playing the jester and partying hard.
His voice sounds a little higher since quitting smoking. Shining opens the album like a lost Neil Young demo, setting the scene immediately; loose and off the cuff, but with a bittersweetness. As the title would su est, guitar is the primary instrument here, noodling to the point of breakdown on Rock and Roll, twangtastic on Holy, but mostly complementing lyrics with subtle melodies.
There’s an intimacy in Mac’s close-miked style that brings you into the room with him. But the narrow sonic palette can blur the songs together. Unvarnished production has a certain charm, but the lack of variation can make some songs difficult to grasp once they’ve finished. Guitar is undoubtedly a pleasant listen and a fine addition to the DeMarco canon, if unlikely to go down as a classic. [Lewis Wade]
Goldfrapp
A.G. Records, 15 Aug rrrrr
Listen to: Reverberotic, Play It (Shine Like a Nova Star), Cinnamon Light
While undeniably a step forward in Alison Goldfrapp’s solo career, Flux remains distant from the heights scaled alongside Will Gregory as Goldfrapp. Despite impeccable craftsmanship provided by the likes of Richard X, Flux frequently feels mired in its own lushness, burdened by a strange inertia. The mid-tempo monotony accentuates this lethargy, diluting shimmering beauty into something laboured rather than effortless. Goldfrapp’s vocals too often sit gro ily atop the mix like lactoderm, hampering the livelier textures beneath. Reverberotic, here, is the thumping and brilliant exception that proves the rule, all nonsenical portmanteau, unearned zaniness (‘Lunar goo / I want to bathe in you’) and a pre-chorus that stands as the best toplining on the whole project. The record finds terminal lucidity in tracks that puncture the malaise: Play It (Shine Like a Nova Star) crackles to life with a bouncing, light house rhythm, while Cinnamon Light offers a fizzy, candy-coated sweetness reminiscent of MUNA’s joyful hooks; moments that relieve the listener that the entire exercise hasn’t been perfunctory to create. Ultimately, Flux is an elegant yet frustrating album: meticulously shaped, impeccably polished yet feeling distinctly like the product of conceptual indifference at best. [Rhys Morgan]
Alison
Flux
Music Now
Welcome to the August edition of our new Scottish music column, with releases to look forward to from Humour, Tarn, James Yorkston and Martha May & The Mondays
Words: Tallah Brash
In July, drag queen turned pop artist ALICE kept things cool at the top of the month with her latest single ICE CREAM, while Glasgow art-punks Dancer released Happy Halloween earlier than you can buy skeleton onesies in the supermarkets. Edinburgh pop artist and producer SHEARS stuck to the same brief with her latest single BONES, announcing that her debut album would arrive in October.
Also announcing their debut album was Glasgow supergroup Former Champ, releasing new single porcelain, a Thin Lizzy-indebted power-pop cut linked to memories of a childhood growing up in Ireland at the tail end of the Troubles. Iona Zajac confronted teenage trauma on her incredibly powerful new single Anton, and Cowboy Hunters lightened the load with their frantic reimagining of Princess Superstar’s Perfect (Exceeder). July also saw the return of Idlewild, releasing a pair of singles ahead of an album due in the autumn. Franz Ferdinand released Some Remixes of Hooked, and there were new singles from Alice Faye, Rahul.mp3, PVC, Post Coal Prom Queen and Moody Moody
When it comes to August releases, Humour’s debut album Learning Greek arrives via So Young Records on the 8th. Before the opening song Neighbours hits even the five-second mark, it’s nought to 100 for singer Andreas Christodoulidis who arrives unhinged and squawking from the get-go. Showing an excellent evolution of the Glasgow band from their first two EPs to now, everything on Learning Greek is turned up to 11, with Christodoulidis’ anguish more pronounced, while softer moments feel more melodic and considered than before, and that’s true as much from a vocal POV as it is in the overall instrumentation of the record.
In the wrong hands, a song rooted in paranoia like Neighbours could have sounded like a difficult clashing of influences, but in Humour’s capable hands, it feels exceptionally cohesive, as it dips in and out of exacerbation and reasoning. The off-kilter Plagiarist follows a similar shape; starting like a classic indie anthem, it’s not long before discordant guitars unexpectedly jar and knock you sideways before propping you back up with melodies that seem effortless, before knocking you sideways again, and so on and so forth. With the record largely inspired by Christodoulidis exploring his Greek identity, that push and pull of hard and soft, melody and dissonance is at play throughout. Turn to p97 to learn more.
If you’re after something more soothing, on 22 August seek out Strange fields by Dan Brown under his Tarn alias. A stunning album of electronic/piano music, opener Murmurs builds slowly, beautifully introducing a record, which, despite being instrumental, carries an incredible amount of emotional heft. It’s in the wheezing and constantly
bending hum of In dreams we_re asleep_, it’s in the elegiac and lilting melodies of Memories fade, the uneven plod of Parklife. It’s in the bright and meandering hopeful electronic motifs on Tangents, and in the ambient aura of Echoes of a friend. Strange fields is a record of precise nuance as Brown tracks his journey from the demise of a longterm relationship through feelings of grief and loss, by its end finding growth in letting go and harnessing the joy he’s found in community.
Also on 22 August, Fifer James Yorkston swings in with Songs for Nina and Johanna. His 16th album on Domino, this latest collaborative album sees him working alongside two renowned Swedish artists – The Cardigans’ Nina Persson and First Aid Kit’s Johanna Söderberg.
Described as ‘a meditation on family, love, and parenthood,’ the way Yorkston’s unique timbre mingles with the two gives off the warm glow of hanging out with friends, singing songs in the backroom of a cosy pub, or in a village hall at dusk, the music illuminated by twinkling fairy lights. Taking it in turns to duet with Persson and Söderberg, there’s a rare intimacy captured across the record where it feels like they’re genuinely singing together and to one another – it’s effortless, warming and feels genuinely joyful.
Back in Glasgow at the top of the month, on the 1st Martha May & The Mondays open their Zeroes & Villains EP with a belch. “Zeroes & Villains is not here to make you feel comfortable. It’s a bratty love letter to the gutter,” says frontwoman Martha May McKay. “This EP isn’t polished – it’s scratched, scribbled on, spat out, and somehow shines. It captures the raw emotion of exactly where I was when I wrote it.” It’s true, Zeroes & Villains does shine, the opening burp not at all indicative of the music found across its four tracks which sees Martha May & The Mondays stitching together their own brand of guitar music with glitter-imbued thread twisting together folk, grunge, rock, blues, punk and more; occasional hues of Garbage’s Shirley Manson peeking through from time to time.
The month also brings with it a flurry of singles with new music from Starsky-Rae (That’s the Way It Goes), Ask Alice (Curtains Down), Plasticine (Hopeless In Love), Esther’s Wife (Buckshot), Florence Jack (Coffee Stain), Róisín McCarney (Meet Me in Montauk), Julia’s Bureau (Astronaut in Comparison), Bröntes (Cognitive Dissonance) and Selkie (Hours) amongst others.
Scan the QR code to follow and like our Music Now: New Scottish Music playlist on Spotify, updated on Fridays
Photo: Hope Simmers @hopesimmers
Photo: Olof Grind
James Yorkston with Nina Persson (L) and Johanna Söderberg (R)
Martha May & The Mondays
Film of the Month — Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk
Director: Sepideh Farsi
Starring: Fatima Hassouna, Sepideh Farsi
RRRRR
Released 22 August by Dogwoof Certificate TBC
Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk has its UK premiere at EIFF on 19 & 20 Aug
theskinny.co.uk/film
Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk is a primary source for history, a portrait of resistance amid Israel’s ongoing genocide in Palestine. It is a direct line of communication from hell: it features a year’s worth of WhatsApp video calls between the sweet, bright, fearless, and now martyred, young Palestinian photojournalist Fatima Hassouna, who was killed in an Israeli airstrike after the film was completed, and Iranian director Sepideh Farsi. The documentary holds a harrowing Schrödinger’s Cat-state of paradox: we are watching a young woman we now know is dead passionately assert her life. The film is a record of Fatima’s indomitable spirit. She greets Sepideh with a beaming smile in every call, as she narrates the decimation of her hometown of Rafah. Such resilience seems simply impossible. At points, Fatima is the one soothing Sepideh’s distress upon a new update of devastation: “It’s OK, it’s OK,” to which Sepideh replies, “No it’s not OK!” Fatima’s calm battle cry, “Whatever they do to us, however they try to destroy us, or even if they kill us… They can’t defeat us,” is given material form in her expansive photography that makes up significant sequences in the film. These photos reflect her do ed intention to “find some life in this world amongst the death”: the irrepressible light of kids smiling, heartening movement on bikes amid debris. But the chilling scenes linger: crying toddlers with their barren pots awaiting food; a burnt-up hospital; a dismembered hand in rubble, with fingers hauntingly still flexed in a grip.
Inured, Fatima notes how her relative’s severed head was discovered on the street. Murder is the weather she has acclimatised to: through-the-night airstrikes from F-16s, a daytime
sky full of Apache helicopters, and paper evacuation orders dropping from above – a prelude to further bombing. In her recording, you can hear the ever-present, terrorising thrum of planes hovering and see the mushroom clouds ahead. Phosphorus is now part of the atmosphere, and drinking water is contaminated. Every little dignity of identity has been purposefully extracted: Fatima laments the Israeli cultural rewrite of Palestine – the imposition of the Shekel, the appropriation of hummus and falafel. “They want to steal everything, from the tiny things, to the huge things,” she says. Overwhelmed with fatigue, Fatima tells of starvation, including her own, but resolves that “this time will pass” – just brain-breaking tragedy.
The dissonance between interviewer and interviewee is their respective conditions of normalcy. There are points of relation – the Iranian regime’s infringement on citizens’ rights is no faint asterisk – but Fatima’s experience seems ultimately incomparable in its total entrapment. As Sepideh dials in from varying destinations (Paris, Morocco, Rome, the beach), Fatima vicariously clings to these channels of a different kind of living. The final correspondence between the two women, evidence of their genuine bond, is a provisional plan to finally meet in person: at an amusement park, as per Fatima’s shatteringly simple dream, or at the Cannes Film Festival to witness this very film’s celebration. This, of course, is an unrealised plan and a torched dream. This is imperialist warfare and the victims of its multivalent evil. This is the ravaging of sense as we watch history on loop.
Journalistic detachment fails me here. There has to be a terrific hole in all of us where this horror has to live. [Lucy Fitzgerald]
Scotland on Screen: David Hayman
David Hayman discusses his debut feature, Silent Scream, a forgotten Scottish masterpiece from 1990, ahead of a screening at EIFF in tribute to the film’s late, great producer, Paddy Higson
Words: Jamie Dunn
EIFF, 14-20 Aug
Silent Scream, 20 Aug, Cameo
Restless Natives, 18 Aug, Filmhouse
David Hayman (director, selected): The Near Room (1995), The Hawk (1993), Silent Scream (1990), Govan Ghost Story (TV, 1989)
Paddy Higson (selected): Dropping Off Michael (2015), The Magdalene Sisters (2002), Orphans (1998), Cardiac Arrest (TV, 199697), Silent Scream (1990), Brond (TV, 1987), The Girl in the Picture (1985), Restless Natives (1985), Comfort and Joy (1984), Living Apart Together (1982), Gregory’s Girl (1981), That Sinking Feeling (1979)
Every year, critics and programmers come to Edinburgh International Film Festival hoping to unearth exciting new filmmaking talent. But one of the discoveries of this year’s event might turn out to be a feature that premiered at the festival 35 years ago: Silent Scream, the directorial debut from Scottish actor David Hayman. It’s a mind-bending portrait of poet Larry Winters, a prisoner at the Barlinnie Special Unit, who died in his cell from an overdose in 1977. Despite ba ing a Silver Bear at the 1990 Berlinale for Iain Glen’s towering performance as Winters, not to mention winning the inaugural Michael Powell Award at Edinburgh the same year, the film has been little seen since. “It just kind of disappeared,” admits Hayman.
The Barlinnie Special Unit was a small, experimental unit within the sprawling Glasgow prison that aimed to rehabilitate prisoners through radical new approaches, which included arts therapy. Hayman, through his work at the Citizens’ Theatre, was a regular visitor and got to know Winters and other inmates like Jimmy Boyle and ‘Toe’ Elliot well. “I’d go once, twice, sometimes three times a week,” recalls Hayman. “We’d do improvisations and I’d perhaps take rehearsals in there, or work on whatever thing I was directing.”
Hayman would go on to play Boyle in 1981’s A Sense of Freedom, based on Boyle’s autobiography of the same name, and was offered to direct Winters’ story by producer Paddy Higson, another regular visitor to the Special Unit. “He was extremely clever,” Hayman says of Winters. “He was a poet, he was a musician, he just had the soul of an artist.” The actor recalls visiting Winters when he was in the middle of preparing to play Hamlet at the Citz. “Larry took me into his cell and sat me down and said, ‘OK, sir, let me tell you about Hamlet.’ And he told me, in the space of 20 minutes, all the ins and outs and complexities of that play. He gave me insights I could never
have gotten in a professional theatre, and that I wasn’t getting in rehearsals.”
Silent Scream is not your typical gritty prison drama. It’s a poetic, wildly uninhibited film with a jumbled chronology and mosaic editing; it looks more like Performance than Scum. “I wanted it to be different,” explains Hayman. “I wanted it to be radical because the nature of the man was radical.” The novice director deftly blends a patchwork of Winters’ memories with expressionistic fantasies and hallucinations, and weaves in psychedelic animations based on Winters’ writing. “You can’t put all of those desperate elements together in a normal storytelling mode,” Hayman tells me. “You have to invent something else, another way of telling that story. It’s a genuinely rich kaleidoscope of a tortured mind.”
The occasion for Silent Scream’s revival is to pay tribute to Higson, who died in April this year, aged 83. Hayman famously described Higson as “the mother of the Scottish film industry” when he presented her with her BAFTA Scotland lifetime achievement award in 2018. He uses similar words to describe her today. “She was a great mother figure to all of us. And if you look down the list of the people she’s introduced to movies and kind of mentored and helped them become more professional, her contribution was sta ering.”
Let’s consider that list. She helped shepherd the debut projects by Bill Forsyth (That Sinking Feeling and Gregory’s Girl), Peter Mullan (Orphans and The Magdalene Sisters), Michael Caton-Jones (TV show Brond) and Line of Duty writer Jed Mercurio (TV show Cardiac Arrest). Towards the end of her career, she was a mentor at Glasgow’s GMAC Film, where one of her protégés was Skinny fave James Price; his short, Dropping Off Michael, was one of Higson’s final production credits.
The creative team she put together for Silent Scream was also made up of newbies. “I remember in her flat on St Vincent Cresent there was Andy Harris, the designer, who’d never done a feature, there was Willy Wands, a line producer who’d never line produced, there was me, and Paddy looked around at all us babies in the world of movies, rubbed her hands and said, ‘Oh, goody.’” As a producer and as a human being, Hayman describes her as a joy. “Paddy was the single most positive person I’ve ever worked with in the world of film or television. The word ‘no’ was not in her vocabulary, which is vital for a producer: you cannot cut off someone’s creative juices.”
There was much outpouring of love from the Scottish industry when Higson passed away, but like Silent Scream, Hayman reckons she’s a bit underappreciated in her home nation. “I remember when I gave that BAFTA speech and afterwards everyone came up to me looking really surprised, saying, ‘Wow, Paddy did all that? Paddy was responsible for all those people’s development?’ It was as if it all happened in secret.” The team at EIFF might be surprised too, as coincidentally they’re screening another of Higson’s productions, the 1985 caper Restless Natives, but don’t seem to have made the connection. “I think they should do a whole season of Paddy Higson films,” su ests Hayman, “not just a one-off with Silent Scream.”
Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne established their reputation through their intense portraits of individual protagonists, but after splitting focus between two characters in Tori and Lokita, they have now made their most expansive film yet. Young Mothers introduces us to a group of teens living in a shelter for young mothers and mothers-to-be, and it’s the brothers’ first true ensemble piece. It’s also one of their finest films.
The girls in Young Mothers have all suffered some form of abandonment, either from their own families or the fathers of their children, and they are attempting to break the cycle of poverty, addiction and violence that marked their childhoods. Heavily pregnant Jessica (Babette Verbeek) is trying to
reconnect with the mother who gave her up, while Ariane (Janaïna Halloy Fokan) is determined to give her baby to a foster family and wants nothing to do with her own troubled mother. Perla (Lucie Laruelle) and Julia (Elsa Houben) both want to build a family with their boyfriends, but the father of Perla’s child is a wastrel, and Julia still stru les with addiction and panic attacks.
There are no easy answers here, but there’s so much compassion; the Dardennes’ ability to elicit stunningly real performances from young actors is peerless. Their usual narrative urgency has been replaced by a more contemplative approach that allows us to know each of these young women in all their complexity. This tender and overwhelmingly moving picture reminds us why the Dardennes are still among the world’s most vital filmmakers. [Philip Concannon]
Released 29 Aug by Curzon; certificate 12A UK premiere at EIFF on 15, 18, 19 & 20 Aug
Little Trouble Girls
Director: Urška Djukić
Starring: Jara Sofija Ostan, Mina Š vajger, Saša Tabaković, Nataša Burger, Staša Popović rrrrr
Early in Urška Djukić’s debut feature, 16-year-old Lucia (Jara Sofija Ostan) quietly admits to her new friends that she is late to adolescent rites of passage, but in this sensual comingof-age film, her interiority thrums loud and full.
When Lucia’s Catholic choir visits an Italian convent for a retreat, the teen’s burgeoning desires unfurl. She’s drawn to the confident, slightly older Ana-Maria (Mina Švajger), who wears a brightly coloured outfit paired with lipstick, the kind Lucia’s mum forbids her to wear. Lucia can’t help but gaze at Ana-Maria in fascination. Lingering moments are paired with floral motifs, one of many uses of poetic symbolism that punctuate the narrative. Friendship grows into more. Against a local order of sin, penance,
virginity and celibacy, Lucia’s intuitive pursuits with Ana-Maria stand in freeing, forbidden contrast. Their friendship group rebels as a whole, too, reversing acts of looking by voyeuristically spying on men. These challenges to social norms are shown to have limits, however. When the choir conductor humiliates Lucia at practice, accusing her of being disrespectful, it veils a retaliatory judgment on her attraction to women. Refrains of rhythmical rites catch on her ears at key moments, whispers of old compared to how Lucia really feels. This dichotomy is rendered in lyrics from the closing song, a near namesake of the film, Little Trouble Girl, by Sonic Youth: ‘But you’ll never know, what I feel inside.’ By the end of her story, Lucia shows us the most important thing: that she does know herself and accepts herself for it. [Eleanor Capaldi]
Released 29 Aug by BFI; certificate 15. UK premiere at EIFF on 15, 16, 17 & 18 Aug
Sorry, Baby
Director: Eva Victor
Starring: Eva Victor, Naomi Ackie, Louis Cancelmi, Kelly McCormack rrrrr
How do you move on? Is this idea – ‘moving on’ – even possible? Writer, director, and actor Eva Victor explores this nebulous concept in Sorry, Baby, a film that begins as a portrait of close university friendship and turns into an exploration of trauma’s aftermath and the past’s inescapable presence. Told through vignettes titled by the year of the events contained therein, Agnes (Victor) and Lydie (Naomie Ackie) move from present to past to future along separate but intertwined paths. Victor’s understated performance captures Agnes’ mischief and pride underneath wide-eyed impulsiveness and desperation as she feels her life spiralling out of control. Ackie, a scene-stealer as always, is a luminous presence as Lydie; her concern for Agnes’ wellbeing is always just under
The Toxic Avenger Director: Macon Blair
Starring: Peter Dinklage, Jacob Tremblay, Taylour Paige, Elijah Wood, Kevin Bacon Julia Davis, Jonny Coyne rrrrr
Some things only work because they go too far. The Terrifier movies brought splatter horror back by taking a knife to the heart of good taste and then wi ling it around. Early seasons of The Boys effectively satirised the superhero genre by stripping it naked and exposing its unsavoury parts. The Toxic Avenger tries both these things but never goes far enough with either to seriously shock, surprise or meaningfully subvert.
Winston Gooze (Peter Dinklage) is a stru ling, single stepfather who scrapes a living as a janitor for a corrupt ‘healthstyle’ company. When a freak accident turns him into a green-skinned mutant, he decides to turn his mop on the true filth of society – starting with his sleazy boss, Bob Garbinger (Kevin Bacon).
the surface in her eyes and half-finished sentences, giving the first hints that something too bad to speak openly about has happened in their pasts (and it is not just their shared history in academia). The supporting cast is also strong, particularly Louis Cancelmi, who’s so ordinary and affable as a professor whose red flags are glaringly obvious, and Lucas Hedges as Agnes’ neighbour, Gavin, who brings a goofy earnestness that sweetly balances the story’s darkness. Victor never quite realises the potential of her film’s setup, but it is nonetheless a poignant exploration of far-too-common traumas, acted in surprising and beautiful ways. This young multi-hyphenate’s ability to direct actors while melding seamlessly into the picture herself is remarkable, and her vision promises greatness in storytelling with her next projects. [Carmen Paddock]
Released 22 Aug by Picturehouse; certificate 12A. UK premiere at EIFF on 14 & 15 Aug
The Toxic Avenger is not without its grungy charms. Its weird, fetid world features some fun details, like a group of masked assassins who daylight as a ‘monstercore’ band. And Dinklage is always a delight, delivering absurd lines with thespian gravitas and displaying an almost Brian Cox-ian talent for swearing.
But he’s not given an awful lot to work with. The film’s humour is a mixture of sub-Deadpool meta gags and easy-target satire. There’s nothing particularly daring or dangerous about the film, and while the largely practical effects are enjoyably old-school, the action sequences they’re deployed in service of aren’t all that inspired. The whole thing ends up feeling just a little bit sanitised – a piece of outsider art made safe for more mainstream audiences. [Ross McIndoe]
Released 29 Aug by Signature; certificate TBC. UK premiere at EIFF on 19 & 20 Aug
Little Trouble Girls
Young Mothers
The Toxic Avenger
Sorry, Baby
MARGARET SALMON: ASSEMBLY
The artist-filmmaker compellingly examines the impact of austerity on Glasgow communities through an evolving installation at The Hunterian
Margaret Salmon’s latest exhibition is a sprawling work-in-progress that straddles the personal and universal in a quietly political reflection on community and collaboration. The Glasgow-based artist filmmaker is known for her socially conscious art which remains deftly rooted in the minutiae of the personal everyday. Her guiding question of how years of austerity and a global pandemic have affected individuals and community in Glasgow is an ambitious one, though she is under no illusion that such a question can ever be answered entirely – not least in a single exhibition.
Assembly begins in The Hunterian’s winding stairwell, where patchwork duvets hang as if drying outside the gallery’s teeming exhibition room. As symbols of domesticity, they lead visitors into a space that promises comfort in familiarity as much as it probes our individual experiences of the everyday. A plaster table opposite the entrance is shrouded in a miscellany of seemingly arbitrary objects: paper chains, worn-out trainers, a coconut, an enamel cat button and a quarter-full tube of ‘pineapple haze hand and
“Assembly is a compelling argument for the endurance of art in an age of austerity”
foot cream’, to name a few. A pile of The Herald newspapers underneath the table point to a wider social reality that (literally) underlies the hyper-subjective collection of ephemera atop it. A closer look at that collection reveals some of the politics of this exhibition in a copy of E.J. Mishan’s The Costs of Economic Growth (1967).
Mishan’s critique of growth-focused economic policies remains especially pertinent while stories of environmental collapse and technological warfare constitute the daily newsreel. Salmon, however, is careful not to make these stories the centre of the exhibition, perhaps because choosing just one assumes an artistic authority that she seems keen to reject. Instead, she gestures towards them in printed screenshots tacked amongst a busy collage that extends from floor-to-ceiling along the room’s largest wall. Unframed black and white photographs make up the most part of this collage, some still creased as if just unfolded from a family’s storage box. This found-art approach, carried throughout the exhibition, heightens the intimacy of some of the most personal photographs and begins an ethnography of the Kelvinside and Maryhill communities who are the central collaborators of Salmon’s project.
The work of one Maryhill artist, Jo Sunshine, hangs to the right of the entrance. It is a vibrant oil pastel drawing of a herring, outlined in block black lines and coloured in shades of violet and electric purple. Sunshine’s maximalist use of colour is fitting for an exhibition that shirks conventional
approaches towards curation and display; the absence of negative space, frames or labels has a democratising effect that invites collaboration rather than presenting the exhibition as complete in any way. This open-endedness might be overwhelming if not for the collection of short films that hold the exhibition together.
Totalling over an hour long, the clips cast a gentle lens on the people whose often invisible work sustains culture and creativity in the city. In one, Salmon presents a portrait of Anne McInally, a cleaner at The Hunterian. Salmon keeps her questions light, allowing McInally to discuss the market of ostrich feather dusters, while letting the quiet scenes of her dusting Mackintosh furniture and sweeping under the Rubens testify to the necessity of her labour.
It is labour like hers that facilitates the inspiration which begets art like local musician Pippa Blundell, whose ethereal performance of ‘gaps’ begins the series of shorts.
With an accompanying 35mm feature film in the works, and an intention to expand the installation over time, Assembly is a compelling argument for the endurance of art in an age of austerity. After collective loss comes collective (re)imagining. Assembly is unique in its insistent citation of the quotidian labour, spaces and tools that facilitate that process of re-imagining.
Margaret Salmon: Assembly, The Hunterian, Glasgow, until 19 Oct. Open daily, 10am-5pm
gla.ac.uk
Words: Evie Glen
Margaret Salmon, Assembly. The Hunterian (2025)
Photo: Ruth Clark
Margaret Salmon, Assembly. The Hunterian (2025)
Photo: Ruth Clark
Leith School of Art
School
A rt & Design Foundation Diploma
Year-long Courses
Applications open for September 2025
Summer Schools
Day Courses
Evening Courses
Weekend Workshops
Holiday Courses
Booking now open
Concession rates available
KUL COFFEE, EDINBURGH
Slick Scandi-style design, an apparently endless list of coffees, and food that straddles the minimal and maximal – KUL is a hit
KUL Coffee, 15 Elm Row, Edinburgh, EH7 4AA Open daily, 8am-4pm instagram.com/kulcoffee_
Round here, we’re a sucker for an orb. Whether plopped on a wall just above head height for little apparent reason, or dangling from the ceiling to bathe the room in a tasteful glow, they tend to serve as markers for a certain kind of cafe experience. KUL, new to Elm Row’s street-off-a-street setting at the top of Leith Walk, has many of the other signifiers of that higher-end coffee vibe; textured monochrome on the walls, arched doorways everywhere, tasteful sans serif fonts. It also has big, big windows – all the better to see that a few weeks after opening, the place is packed out on a Sunday morning.
In the wrong hands, this could be a classic case of ‘signified-signifier gone wrong’, but it quickly becomes apparent that this isn’t just about the orbs, and these guys are extremely serious about their coffee. It’s in the diligence of the baristas, the sheer volume of equipment, and the (count ‘em) ten different coffees available on pourover in lovely little glass carafes, alongside your standard range of espresso-based stuff.
Some of those pourovers are not cheap (are we going to spend £15 on an admittedly large cup of coffee? Not right now, but thanks for asking!). The good news is that the coffees back at
our end of the scale are delicious in their own right, all made by hand by some folk who clearly know their way around a fancy gooseneck kettle. The Huye Mountain (£6), a Rwandan coffee roasted by Swerl roastery in Falkenberg, Sweden, has a brilliant punch and acidic, citrusy twang; the La Piragua (£6) is a lightly fermented Colombian coffee via the Scenery roasters in London, and comes out with tropical flavours and a super smooth finish. Our tasting notes: it doesn’t taste anything like a Solero, but it does bring a Solero to mind; big thumbs up.
We can’t survive on fancy coffees alone, and KUL’s brunch menu is a run through of some sweet and savoury brunch classics with some interesting additions. In the savoury corner, the Turkish E s (£12.95) are delicious, and hit all the right marks. We’re talking jammy yolks, a light lactic funk from the garlic yoghurt, savoury jabs from the Aleppo chilli butter, and an appropriate amount of dill, which is to say ‘quite a lot of dill’. It’s light but loaded with flavour, and it manages to look great despite all being near enough the same colour.
On the sweet side, it’s the sound of the summer, in breakfast form. Our pancakes (£12.95) come with an impressive array of toppings and stuff on the side – there’s a sweet and
sharp lemon curd, a huge pile of whipped mascarpone topped with blueberry jam that is itself topped with fresh blueberries, and a light crumble of shortbread over the whole thing. Throw it all together and it’s a squidgy, slippery and slightly ridiculous plate of brunch that will leave you feeling like you could sprint the whole way down Leith Walk (which may be the fruit and coffee talking).
KUL is a very good example of this kind of coffee shop – there’s a sense of quality and swag to the whole thing. By the end of our brunch there are so many of little silver trays dotted around our table it looks like we’ve been working on the world’s most minimal jigsaw. There are a few things to improve – when it’s busy, it’s very very loud, as it turns out that those monochrome brushed walls from earlier will just fire your conversation right back at you. And for such a celebration of coffee, it would be nice to see some of Scotland’s excellent independent roasters represented on that lengthy pourover list: The Source, Cult, Dear Green, Fortitude… the list goes on. Lads give me a call and I’ll shout a bunch of names at you down the phone. But KUL is the kind of place we can see ourselves coming back to, drawn in by great coffee and some truly excellent food. The orbs: they’re just a handy bonus.
Words: Peter Simpson
Image: courtesy of KUL
Image: courtesy of KUL
By Aisha Muharrar rrrrr
In her debut novel Loved One, Aisha Muharrar – Emmy-nominated writer for HBO’s Hacks and NBC’s Parks and Recreation – gathers all the sparkle and droll of a TV comedy drama and folds it into moments of gut-wrenching prose. The story follows Julia as she navigates the grief of unexpectedly losing her first-love-turned-best-friend (and world-famous indie musician) Gabe, aged 29. Leaving her native LA, Julia embarks on a quest to Europe to recover the possessions Gabe left with friends and acquaintances before his death. When Julia comes up against Gabe’s last love, Elizabeth, secrets unravel as the women reconcile their conflicting visions of Gabe and try to piece together his last month of life.
Loved One is a book about grief and the practice of grieving. Even the rhythm of writing, which unravels at pace but with moments of puncture, seems to mirror grief’s jolting but legato dissonance. But it is also a novel about intimacy, the afterlives of people and objects, and of how well we really know one another. While the verse feels heavy-handed at times, overall this is a gorgeous read full of small wisdoms. Muharrar excels in distilling the messy complications of what it is to know a person, both the relationships we’ve had for a decade and those we have just made. Loved One will have you stifling gi les on one page, glassy-eyed on the next.
[Parisa Hashempour]
By Brian Chikwava rrrrr
This coming-of-age story of a Zimbabwean girl who meets a gender-fluid Afro-Brit boy is raw and powerful. At its centre is an intense flash of young love that makes sense of everything, only to burn hot and collapse as it shades into misunderstanding and disappointment.
As a young girl, Shamiso moves from rural Zimbabwe to Harare to live ill-fittingly with her father and stepmother. An elderly cousin, Jimson, recognises the spark that others see as her mother’s craziness. He gives her a pendant of the river god Nyami Nyami, and the fish-headed snake offers a new way to survive the world. Shamiso starts carving with Jimson, and wins a scholarship to Brighton, where she meets George.
Shamiso’s grown up in a world where gods are genderless and elders are referred to as ‘they’ as a mark of respect. Author Brian Chikwava uses these details to question Western gender norms with the sharp eye of the outsider. It’s not a big deal for Shamiso to see in George all the richness of a fluid identity, and the most electric moments between them are when George is in a dress. Chikwava’s a master of brevity, which makes it easy to miss things: short scenes that turn out to be significant later can be easily missed. Mostly, though, Shamiso is dazzling, exhilarating, funny and sharp. [Galen O’Hanlon]
By Morgan Talty rrrrr
Morgan Talty’s Night of the Living Rez is described as a linked story collection, and while these stories can be read individually, most will read the collection like a novel. The stories concern a group of individuals who live on the Penobscot Indian Reservation. Narrator David has troubles at home and increasingly looks elsewhere for companionship and camaraderie. As he moves from childhood into adolescence he not only loses his innocence, but his way in this world.
It’s the woman in his life; ‘Mom’, sister ‘Paige’, and ‘Grammy’, who offer him the more useful life lessons. The men are almost universally toxic influences but David is increasingly drawn to their dark side. As his addictions grow stronger and he's more desperate, events build to the most heartbreaking and horrific conclusion, and as they unfold you realise that clues as to what has really been going on were there all along; but viewed through the smoke-filled and stoned consciousness of our narrator they are only clear with hindsight.
It can take a while to tune into Night of the Living Rez, but the work becomes increasingly familiar not only in terms of style but also content (Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting is just one apposite comparison – another linked story collection). That similitude was key to opening up this unfamiliar world. The best fiction can engender empathy and understanding of other people and their culture, and by writing with clarity, specificity and heart, Morgan Talty shows that there’s more that unites us than divides. [Alistair Braidwood]
Discontent
By Beatriz Serrano, trans. Mara Faye Lethem rrrrr
Readers might find catharsis in Discontent, Beatriz Serrano’s acerbic yet slight debut novel about millennial workplace ennui, while an equal number are likely to find it trying. At a Madrid ad agency, protagonist Marisa whiles away the hours in spite of the management position she has shirked her way into.
When we meet her, she is more checked out than ever, rocked by the recent suicide of the only colleague she felt even remotely close to. Playing out in the weeks between this event and the corporate retreat which will drive her to a climactic transgression during a presentation, the bulk of the novel invites us to join her in quiet-quitting; her small rebellion against capitalism.
So begins many a chapter in which she watches YouTube videos on work time, tosses around choice buzzwords to allay suspicion, and rides a state of numbing intoxication. To some, Marisa may represent a kindred spirit: rightfully appalled by our collective sleepwalk into latestage capitalism, meeting it with dejection as the only rational response. Others, though, might just get annoyed by her individualistic approach to life. Opting out while cashing in is, after all, a privilege not everybody can afford.
Translated by Mara Faye Lethem, Serrano’s prose are clear and her portraits of corporate drudgery well-chosen. But even paired with its moments of levity, provided by Marisa’s wine-and-casual-sex evenings with her neighbour Pablo, it’s not enough to lift its willful miserablism. [Louis Cammell]
Canongate, 28 Aug
And Other Stories, 7 Aug
Harvill
Secker, 21 Aug
Loved One
Night of the Living Rez
Shamiso
Now open until 15 November 2025 Monday - Saturday, 10am - 6pm (and Sundays throughout August)
Ground Floor Main Library
30 George Square
Fringe Venue 126
Listings
Looking for something to do? Well you’re in the right place! Find listings below for the month ahead across Music, Clubs, Theatre, Comedy and Art in Glasgow, Edinburgh and Dundee. To find out how to submit listings, head to theskinny.co.uk/listings
Glasgow Music
Tue 29 Jul
YNGWIE MALMSTEEN GARAGE Metal from Sweden.
Wed 30 Jul
NEAVE MARR (BECKI
RUTHERFORD + FLORENCE JACK) KING TUT'S Pop from the UK.
PAPERSAILOR (BUZZKILL)
THE HUG AND PINT Alt rock from Glasgow A THOUSAND HORSES (THESE WICKED RIVERS) ST LUKE'S Rock from the US.
Thu 31 Jul RADIO FREE ALICE
GARAGE Rock from Melbourne. YOUTH FOR SALE (CHERRY + THE COWARDS + NEW YEAR'S PRAYER) KING TUT'S Indie from Glasgow.
DYLAN JACK MORAN (WOEFUL IDLE + JACK GETTY ) THE HUG AND PINT Rock.
Fri 1 Aug
FRANK'S HOUSE (MEGALICHEN + LAUNDRY ROOM + AKAGO) KING TUT'S Hip-hop.
RUSSELL STEWART (MAWADDUH) THE HUG AND PINT Soul from Scotland.
SPICE DREAMS (SMOKE CAN VANISH + THE BALUGAS) SWG3 Noise from Glasgow. FYFE DANGERFIELD THE GLAD CAFE Indie.
Sat 2 Aug
THE TRANQUILS KING TUT'S Indie.
PINC WAFER (MALLET SPACE + FIRST LADY ) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Kent.
HOW TO SWIM + HENS BENS + SLUG
THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Eclectic lineup. THE BACK PAGES
NICE 'N' SLEAZY Grunge from Glasgow.
Sun 3 Aug
KAIT (LEWIS ROSS + FELLOW MAN + ÖPAQUE) KING TUT'S Singer-songwriter from Glasgow.
Tue 5 Aug THE JUNGLE GIANTS
KING TUT'S Indie rock from Australia.
Wed 6 Aug
PISTOL DAISYS (ROSIE ALICE)
THE HUG AND PINT Alt pop from Glasgow. DANIELA HUERTA THE GLAD CAFE Experimental from Berlin.
Thu 7 Aug
PVC (PUPPY TEETH + NATIONAL PLAYBOYS + APOLOGIES)
KING TUT'S
Post-punk from Glasgow.
GROGG THE HUG AND PINT Hard rock from California.
THE WARLOCKS THE RUM SHACK Psych rock from LA. SARAH NIMMO SWG3 Pop from London. MADALITSO THE GLAD CAFE Babatone and guitar from Malawi.
MAGGIE BAUGH STEREO Country from Nashville.
Fri 8 Aug
AMPLE HOUSE (EYES OF HOME + FIR THE BAND + BARRANQUISMO) KING TUT'S Indie rock from Scotland. THE BRAES (THINNERS + AND THE BANDAGES) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Paisley. BARRINGTON LEVY QMU Reggae from Jamaica.
VICE (SERPENT + NAMELESS) SWG3 Metal from Manchester.
MARTHA MAY & THE MONDAYS (PUKE + NIKKI RUSH + PHATSY )
NICE 'N' SLEAZY Punk rock from Glasgow.
CHANNEL 5 (CROX & SOX) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Indie rock from Glasgow.
POSSIL MOR THE HUG AND PINT Folk rock from Glasgow. KIN (MOTHER SUPERIOR + THE WHEREWITHAL) THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Post-jazz.
UPCHUCK NICE 'N' SLEAZY Garage rock from Atlanta. VOITURES (VIGILANTI + VACANT PAVEMENTS) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Psych from Glasgow.
Sun 10 Aug
MANTEL (JACK HILL + ESTHER’S WIFE + LONELY DAZE) KING TUT'S Indie funk from Glasgow. JJ GREY & MOFRO ST LUKE'S Rock from Florida.
ROSS MILLER BAND STEREO Trad from Linlithgow.
Mon 11 Aug
LUCY SPRAGGAN
GARAGE Singer-songwriter from the UK.
DUNCECAP + SEAN CHOON + PRAWN MONSOON THE HUG AND PINT Eclectic lineup.
Tue 12 Aug
SUNGAZER CATHOUSE Jazz from New York.
THROWN GARAGE Metalcore from Stockholm.
REDMAN
O2 ACADEMY GLASGOW Rap from the US.
NILES RODGERS & CHIC
BARROWLANDS Funk from the US.
BATTLESNAKE THE HUG AND PINT Metal from the US.
LINDA BUCKLEY: THAR FARRAIGE THE GLAD CAFE Classical from Ireland.
Wed 13 Aug
NILES RODGERS & CHIC BARROWLANDS Funk from the US. RETIREMENT PARTY (CARLY COSGROVE + DAY DRUNK + DYING GIANT) THE HUG AND PINT Rock.
JERSEY THE DEVIL THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Pop. FRANZ FERDINAND SWG3 Indie from Scotland.
Thu 14 Aug
NDAGGA RHYTHM FORCE
MONO
Techno from Africa. MAKEOUT (KEEP FLYING) GARAGE Pop punk from the US.
WARM REEKIN'
RICH (HALFBAKED + NERVOUS HABITS + STRATUS) KING TUT'S Rock from Glasgow. INTER ARMA THE HUG AND PINT Metal from Virginia. THE KANE GANG ST LUKE'S Pop from the UK.
ULTRA SUNN (NEVERFINE + SOFT RIOT) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Coldwave from Brussels. WALT MCCLEMENTS
THE GLAD CAFE Drone folk from LA. THE NEW CHRISTS STEREO Garage rock from Australia.
Fri 15 Aug
FOG BANDITS (AWFUL EYES + MODERN RUIN + DIVA DOWN) KING TUT'S Alt noise from Scotland. BIKINI BODY (ISABELLA STRANGE + CEEFAX) THE HUG AND PINT Punk from Edinburgh. NEWSHAPES SWG3
Post-hardcore from Newcastle.
THE LETTING GO + THE CATHODE RAY NICE 'N' SLEAZY Post-punk from Scotland. FOLK FOR PALESTINE (AMULET) THE GLAD CAFE Folk from Scotland. THE KARAVATS STEREO Alt rock from East Kilbride.
Sat 16 Aug
DIRTY FACES (COMFORT GIRL + QUALITY CONTROL + VENUS IN THE LAKE) KING TUT'S Punk from Derry. SACUL (NIKHITA) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Scotland. THE FROWNS STEREO Indie rock from Glasgow.
Sun 17 Aug
MERCY GIRL (HEALTH AND BEAUTY + IWANTTOBEONTV + SAD GIRL) KING TUT'S Darkwave from Glasgow. PAPANGU THE HUG AND PINT Prog rock from Brazil. @ THE RUM SHACK Folk pop. SEMISPECIFIC ENSEMBLE THE GLAD CAFE Alt jazz.
Mon 18 Aug
EVAN HONER ORAN MOR Indie from the US. CRASHES (PLEASURE TAIL + READY WEATHER) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Scotland.
GREG MENDEZ STEREO Indie rock from Philadelphia.
Tue 19 Aug
WALLOWS O2 ACADEMY GLASGOW Alt rock from LA.
KIM LOGAN (ANNA YOUNGER) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Florida. ALLEGRA KREIGER (ADA LEA, NIAMH CORKEY ) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Indie from New York. HONK THE GLAD CAFE Country from Manchester.
Wed 20 Aug
FOLK BITCH TRIO
KING TUT'S Alt indie from Australia. THE MACCABEES BARROWLANDS Indie rock from London. THUMPASAURUS ST LUKE'S Funk rock from the US. LARRY FLEET SWG3 Singer-songwriter from Tennessee. PROVOKER STEREO Post-punk from San Francisco.
Thu 21 Aug
MIXED SIGNALS (THE CLAES + THE NAUTICS + ALLSORTS) KING TUT'S Rock from Scotland. GAZA APPEAL: SACRAMOOT + FULL MONTIES + ANDSOFIA + FOILSICK + AOTSI THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Eclectic lineup. ROBINAUGUST (CURRENTMOODGIRL + CURTIS MILES) THE GLAD CAFE Indie.
Fri 22 Aug
RITUAL EFFECT
GARAGE Grunge rock from Ireland. THE GRAPEVINE (MEEP + MARIGOLD + THALADELA)
KING TUT'S Blues rock from Angus. OLIVER COATES + JOANNE ROBERTSON THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Experimental lineup. GREG PEARSON SWG3 Pop from Scotland.
OFF PEAK LEISURE NICE 'N' SLEAZY Indie from Glasgow. JACKIE- O MOTHERFUCKER (THE ZEBECKS + KIM LOGAN & THE SILHOUETTES) THE GLAD CAFE Experimental from the US. THE DRESS REHEARSAL STEREO Pop from Glasgow.
Sat 23 Aug
JACK TORRANCE (JASMIN JET + SEANICO + GIRL UPSTAIRS) KING TUT'S Rock.
LITTLE MOON (CLAIRE QUINN + FLAME) THE HUG AND PINT Indie folk from Utah. AZALEAS NICE 'N' SLEAZY Indie rock from Glasgow. HEN HOOSE MENTEES: CLAIR + LESRYS + MAAIKE + MIWA THE GLAD CAFE Eclectic lineup. IGLU & HARTLY STEREO Pop rock from California.
Sun 24 Aug THE VALLA GARAGE Pop rock from London. SPECTRAL VIEW (DALMATIC + POSTER CLUB + WHISSKER) KING TUT'S Post-punk from Glasgow. HANNAH FRANCES THE HUG AND PINT Folk from the US.
PAT HAMILTON SWG3 Singer-songwriter from Scotland.
M. JOHN HENRY THE GLAD CAFE Indie from Glasgow. NED COLLETTE ( YOKERMOON + THOUGHTFOX) THE GLAD CAFE Folk from Australia and New Zealand. GNOD STEREO Rock from Salford.
Mon 25 Aug
ASHLEY MONROE + FANCY HAGOOD ST LUKE'S Country from the US. PAT HAMILTON SWG3 Singer-songwriter from Scotland.
MATT BERNINGER SWG3 Indie from the US.
Tue 26 Aug
THE LINDA LINDAS KING TUT'S Rock from LA.
THE WHITE BUFFALO O2 ACADEMY GLASGOW Folk from the US. CRYOGEYSER THE HUG AND PINT Rock from LA.
DUCKS LTD (FORMER CHAMP)
NICE 'N' SLEAZY
Power pop from Toronto. JAZZ AT THE GLAD THE GLAD CAFE Jazz from Glasgow. LIAM ST. JOHN STEREO Blues from Nashville.
Wed 27 Aug
POISON GIRL FRIEND MONO Dream pop from Japan.
ESCUELA GRIND GARAGE
Grindcore from the US.
TROUSDALE KING TUT'S Pop from LA.
PLANT SCIENCE (NATHAN SOMEVI + RACHEL DUNS) THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Glasgow. THE NORTHERN POP GIRLIES SWG3 Indie pop from Manchester.
Thu 28 Aug
DALLAS LOVE FIELD (FROG KING + MALLET SPACE + MAD LUDWIG) KING TUT'S Shoegaze from Glasgow.
FATHER JOHN MISTY BARROWLANDS Indie rock from the US.
MEGALICHEN (ALEENA + JACK FINGLAND) THE HUG AND PINT Alt pop from Glasgow. SOFIA ISELLA SWG3 Singer-songwriter from the US.
DUTCH MUSTARD (ELLIJAI + BABY UNIVERSE)
NICE 'N' SLEAZY Shoegaze from London.
DUMB INSTRUMENT (DECEPTIVE LIZARD) THE GLAD CAFE Indie folk from Scotland.
Fri 29 Aug
HEAVY WEATHER (NO BAD NEWS IN HEAVEN + HEAVYSKINT + BAMBITOS) KING TUT'S Indie rock from Livingston. FATHER JOHN MISTY BARROWLANDS Indie rock from the US.
BIN JUICE (BIG GIRL'S BLOUSE) THE HUG AND PINT Punk from Glasgow.
JASON RIDDELL (BOBBY KAKOURIS + ALI STOTT) THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Indie from Glasgow.
FALSE FUTURES (LINT BIN + DYLAN WINTERS) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Rock from London. EVIE WADDELL THE GLAD CAFE Folk. APNA STEREO Rock from Lanarkshire.
Sat 30 Aug
LUKE HAINES + PETER BUCK ORAN MOR Indie rock.
ANCHOR LANE (FORGETTING THE FUTURE + HUMAN RENEGADE) KING TUT'S Rock from Scotland. THE TUMBLING PADDIES BARROWLANDS Folk from Ireland. S. CAREY THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Wisconsin. NORMAL SERVICE (MUMBLER + NOMEN) THE OLD HAIRDRESSERS Punk from Glasgow. Sun 31 Aug S. CAREY THE HUG AND PINT Indie from Wisconsin. HILLTOP HOODS SWG3 Hip-hop from the US. INOHA SWG3 Indie rock from San Antonio.
WATER DAMAGE (CHARLES BUTLER) NICE 'N' SLEAZY Noise rock from Austin.
RAINBOW GIRLS THE GLAD CAFE Folk.
Edinburgh Music
Wed 30 Jul
ANTI-VIRUS (PANIC ATTAK + THE CLENCH) BANNERMANS Metal.
Thu 31 Jul
SMOKE OVER ELSEWHERE BANNERMANS Hard rock from the UK. Fri 1 Aug THE LOST CONFORMISTS (BURNING BRIDGES) BANNERMANS Alt rock from Edinburgh. SHINLIFTER (THE CHUNKS) SNEAKY PETE'S Indie rock from Edinburgh. Sat 2 Aug
SKAM (PYROCLAST + JEANICELEE) BANNERMANS Rock from the UK.
Regular Glasgow club nights
The Rum Shack
SATURDAYS (LAST OF EVERY OTHER MONTH)
VOCAL OR VERSION, 21:00 Vintage Jamaican music on original vinyl by resident DJs and guests. Sub Club
FRIDAYS (SECOND OF THE MONTH) RETURN TO MONO SLAM’s monthly Subbie residency sees them joined by some of the biggest names in international techno.
Regular Edinburgh club nights
Cabaret
Voltaire
FRIDAYS
FLY CLUB, 23:00
Edinburgh and Glasgowstraddling night, with a powerhouse of local residents joined by a selection of guest talent.
SATURDAYS
PLEASURE, 23:00
Regular Saturday night at Cab Vol, with residents and occasional special guests.
Sneaky Pete’s
MONDAYS
RIDE N BOUNCE, 23:00
R‘n’B, pop, rap and hip-hop bangers every Monday.
TUESDAYS
RARE, 23:00
House, UKG and occasional techno from special guest DJs and rising locals.
THURSDAYS (FIRST OF THE MONTH)
VOLENS CHORUS, 23:00
Resident DJs with an eclectic, global outlook.
FRIDAYS (SECOND OF THE MONTH)
HOT MESS, 23:00 A night for queer people and their friends.
QUIET YEARS (PARMA VIOLENCE + ABRAHAM OLIVIER) SNEAKY PETE'S Alt rock from Edinburgh.
Sun 3 Aug
SKAM (DEADFIRE + THE NUMBER 9'S) BANNERMANS Rock from the UK. NIGHT CALLER
SNEAKY PETE'S Punk from Edinburgh. BC CAMPLIGHT LA BELLE ANGELE Indie from New Jersey.
Tue 5 Aug
ADRENALIN OD (THE KOWALSKIS + THE ROUND EYE) BANNERMANS Punk from the UK. MANNEQUIN DEATH SQUAD SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Melbourne.
Wed 6 Aug
RAMONA'S TEA PARTY BANNERMANS Pop rock from Norway. ERIFF (HOLLY POWERS) SNEAKY PETE'S Indie folk from Scotland.
Thu 7 Aug
FALLING DOVES (SHIFTER) BANNERMANS Rock from LA.
CASUAL DRAG (SHA RIVARI & THE MAYBES + PARK SAFELY )
SNEAKY PETE'S Punk.
EMMANUEL KELLY LA BELLE ANGELE Singer-songwriter.
SATURDAYS SUBCULTURE, 23:00
Long-running house night with residents Harri & Domenic, oft’ joined by a carousel of super fresh guests.
SATURDAYS (LAST OF THE MONTH)
SOUL JAM, 23:00
Monthly no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty disco.
SUNDAYS POSTAL, 23:00 Bass, breaks, grime and more from a selection of Cowgate all stars.
The Liquid Room
SATURDAYS (FIRST OF THE MONTH) REWIND, 22:30
Monthly party night celebrating the best in soul, disco, rock and pop with music from the 70s, 80s, 90s and current bangers.
The Hive
MONDAYS POPTASTIC, 22:00 Pop, requests and throwbacks to get your week off to an energetic start.
TUESDAYS TRASH TUESDAY, 22:00
Alternative Tuesday anthems cherry picked from genres of rock, indie, punk, retro and more.
WEDNESDAYS COOKIE WEDNESDAY, 22:00 90s and 00s cheesy pop and modern chart anthems.
Fri 8 Aug
LOLLAPALOSERS (BEDLAM HOUSE BAND + BARONS OF THE BLACK) BANNERMANS Trad from Argentina. Sat 9 Aug ALATION (SILVERTONE) SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Newcastle. PROJECT SMOK LA BELLE ANGELE Indie trad.
Sun 10 Aug
BERNSTURM AND THE MEN SNEAKY PETE'S Psych from Dumfries.
SVANEBORG KARDYB (VEGA TRAILS) LA BELLE ANGELE Electro from Denmark.
Mon 11 Aug
FREE MANTLE HYPOTHESIS (MOXIES + HEMLOCK) SNEAKY PETE'S Indie rock from Edinburgh.
CHALI 2NA
LA BELLE ANGELE Hip-hop from the US.
Tue 12 Aug
RETIREMENT PARTY (CARLY COSGROVE) SNEAKY PETE'S Emo from the US.
PETER DOHERTY
LA BELLE ANGELE Indie rock from London.
Wed 13 Aug
THE TALL PINES (THE DEVILS FORFEIT) BANNERMANS Rock from the US.
THURSDAYS HI-SOCIETY THURSDAY, 22:00 Student anthems and bangerz.
FRIDAYS FLIP FRIDAY, 22:00 Yer all-new Friday at Hive. Cheap entry, inevitably danceable, and noveltystuffed. Perrrfect.
SATURDAYS
BUBBLEGUM, 22:00
Saturday mix of chart and dance, with retro 80s classics thrown in for good measure.
SUNDAYS SECRET SUNDAY, 22:00
Two rooms of all the chart, cheese and indie-pop you can think of/handle on a Sunday.
Subway Cowgate
MONDAYS TRACKS, 21:00
Blow the cobwebs off the week with a weekly Monday night party with some of Scotland’s biggest and best drag queens.
TUESDAYS TAMAGOTCHI, 22:00
Throwback Tuesdays with non-stop 80s, 90s, 00s tunes.
WEDNESDAYS TWISTA, 22:00
Banger after banger all night long.
THURSDAYS
FLIRTY, 22:00
Pop, cheese and chart.
FRIDAYS
FIT FRIDAYS, 22:00
Chart-topping tunes perfect for an irresistible sing and dance-along.
SATURDAYS
SLICE SATURDAY, 22:00
The drinks are easy and the pop is heavy.
SUNDAYS
SUNDAY SERVICE, 22:00
Atone for the week before and the week ahead with non-stop dancing. The Mash House
TUESDAYS MOVEMENT, 20:00
House, techno, drum ‘n’ bass and garage.
SATURDAYS (FIRST OF THE MONTH)
SAMEDIA SHEBEEN, 23:00
Joyous global club sounds: think Afrobeat, Latin and Arabic dancehall on repeat.
SATURDAYS (LAST OF THE MONTH)
PULSE, 23:00
The best techno DJs sit alongside The Mash House resident Darrell Pulse.
SOULS OF MISCHIEF
THE LIQUID ROOM Rap from California.
PETER DOHERTY LA BELLE ANGELE Indie rock from London.
Thu 14 Aug
THE DEAD DAISIES (SCARLET REBELS + DAN BYRNE) EDINBURGH CORN EXCHANGE Rock from Sydney.
Fri 15 Aug
WIDE DAYS PRESENTS MADE IN SCOTLAND GIGS
SNEAKY PETE'S Multi-genre from Scotland. WIDE DAYS PRESENTS MADE IN SCOTLAND GIGS
LA BELLE ANGELE Scottish lineup.
Sat 16 Aug
LINDISFARNE THE QUEEN'S HALL Folk and roots from the UK. FAWKES (HUGH KELLY )
SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Scotland. FLESHTIVAL LA BELLE ANGELE Metal.
Mon 18 Aug
ALLEGRA KRIEGER (ADA LEA + NIAMH CORKEY )
SNEAKY PETE'S Indie folk from New York. THUMPASAURUS LA BELLE ANGELE Funk.
Mon 25 Aug
SPEEDER BANNERMANS Metal from the UK. NATIONAL PLAYBOYS SNEAKY PETE'S Post-punk from Edinburgh. CHAMELEON LADY THE MASH HOUSE Pop rock from Edinburgh.
BABY LASAGNA LA BELLE ANGELE Singer-songwriter from Croatia.
Tue 26 Aug
FIR THE BAND (AMPLE HOUSE + BECCA HUNTER)
SNEAKY PETE'S Indie. THIS IS THE KIT LA BELLE ANGELE Psych rock.
Wed 27 Aug
THE FRAUDS (TRUMPTON RIOT) BANNERMANS Rock from Perth.
GARETH THE CAVES Country from Northern Ireland.
KAI REESU (DANK MANGO + BECCA SLOAN)
SNEAKY PETE'S Jazz from Glasgow.
Thu 28 Aug
BLACKFYRE RISING (BLACK LESION + THE GUNS FOR HIRE + TIME STANDS STILL) BANNERMANS Hard rock from Edinburgh.
ALICE FAYE THE CAVES Singer-songwriter from Glasgow.
JUNK PUPS
SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Glasgow.
Fri 29 Aug
SUBVERSIVE BANNERMANS Rock from the US.
Tue 19 Aug
PAULIE BOY BLUES (THE DEVIL'S FORFEIT + GAMBIT)
SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Maryland. FANTASTIC NEGRITO LA BELLE ANGELE Blues.
Wed 20 Aug
MARTHA MAY & THE MONDAYS (THE FROOBZ + CONNOR LIAM BYRNE AND THE BAD KISSERS) SNEAKY PETE'S Indie rock from Glasgow. THROWING MUSES LA BELLE ANGELE Ambient.
Fri 22 Aug
PP ARNOLD THE QUEEN'S HALL Soul from London. DEAR HEATHER
SNEAKY PETE'S Rock from Edinburgh. MEN WITHOUT HATS LA BELLE ANGELE New Wave from Canada. WORKS IN PROGRESS III LEITH CRICKET CLUB Experimental lineup.
Sat 23 Aug
LANTERNS ON THE LAKE LA BELLE ANGELE Indie rock from Newcastle.
Sun 24 Aug
DUCKS LTD.
SNEAKY PETE'S Indie from Toronto. WHEN RIVERS MEET LA BELLE ANGELE Blues.
GOOD NICE 'N' SLEAZY House and techno. SCANDAL.GLA X STEREO: ARMANA KHAN STEREO Club, baile funk and techno.
Sat 2 Aug
VOCAL OR VERSION: DOC MURDOC + GABBY OCHOA THE RUM SHACK Reggae.
ABYSS: THE ADVENT + HARVEY MCKAY + NINO BLINK + MADE ROOM 2 Techno and acid. SWG3 PRESENTS CAMELPHAT SWG3 House.
MANU FACTURER NICE 'N' SLEAZY Industrial.
ACT NATURAL NICE 'N' SLEAZY House and Italo disco.
KITTYX X QUEERING TECHNO (MISS CABBAGE + EUROKELS + DARKCORE TRUTH + 4KITSAKE) STEREO Techno, hardcore and trance.
Thu 7 Aug NO SWEAT NICE 'N' SLEAZY Techno.
Fri 8 Aug
OPEN DECKS: HEADSET STEREO Bass, 140, breaks and garage.
Thu 21 Aug
SIMBA NICE 'N' SLEAZY Hip-hop and club.
Fri 22 Aug
CO -ACCUSED ALL NIGHT LONG THE BERKELEY SUITE Techno and house.
COLM FLETCHER NICE 'N' SLEAZY New Wave and synth pop. DISCOUNT DISCO NICE 'N' SLEAZY House and disco.
Sat 23 Aug
STREETRAVE SUMMER ALL DAYER SWG3 Trance and house. SUPERTOUCH EXIT GLASGOW Techno and experimental.
OLIVE NICE 'N' SLEAZY Breaks.
MISS SUZIE MAC NICE 'N' SLEAZY House and techno.
OPEN DECKS: SHITEPOP STEREO Pop and club.
Thu 28 Aug
PULSE: SLAMFESTIVAL OPENING PARTY THE MASH HOUSE Techno. DILF EDINBURGH: FESTIVALS OPENING PARTY LA BELLE ANGELE Disco and pop.
Sat 2 Aug
EHFM: AL GU + SAINT SUNDAY + OTIS WORMING + AOIBHIL + BELLAROSA + RIA SNEAKY PETE'S House, dub and electro. SAMEDIA SHEBEEN 15TH BIRTHDAY SESSION / PART 1 THE MASH HOUSE House and Latin. BIG GAY AFTERPARTY LA BELLE ANGELE Queer club.
Sun 3 Aug FLY // SUPER SUNDAY CABARET VOLTAIRE Tech house.
Mon 4 Aug
HEADSET'S GAY
DOVV (THE MEMOS + RHYS HEAVEN) SNEAKY PETE'S Singer-songwriter from Fife. MERCURY REV LA BELLE ANGELE Avant-garde pop from Buffalo.
Sat 30 Aug
SCARRED LIP (GRAVELLE + LUCKY BRIAR) SNEAKY PETE'S Alt rock from Edinburgh. PETE & BAS LA BELLE ANGELE Drill and grime from the UK.
Dundee Music
Sat 16 Aug
CONNOR LIAM BYRNE AND THE BAD KISSERS BEAT GENERATOR LIVE! Indie from Dundee.
Glasgow Clubs
Thu 31 Jul
DR DISCO THE BERKELEY SUITE House and disco.
Fri 1 Aug
SPIRIT: RICHARD
AKINGBEHIN + TIKIMAN + ROZALY + VIIAAN + LIBRA ESTERLINA + BAKE SUB CLUB House.
STREETRAVE PRESENTS: MEN IN LOVE BOOK & ALBUM LAUNCH PARTY SWG3 Disco.
CHARLOTTE TUESDAY NICE 'N' SLEAZY Disco and synth.
PARADE X SWG3 GARDEN PARTY: BIG MIZ + CARMEN BAIA + C-FRAME + BESSA SWG3 House and disco. PRTY PRESENTS RESTRICTED SWG3 Techno. SPINNIN' ON THE SPECTRUM 3 (TWO BROTHERS + THE SANDMAN + BIGGYWAWA) STEREO House and techno.
Sat 9 Aug
DUENDE PRESENTS KILLABEATMAKER + DJ LUCKYBABE THE RUM SHACK Latin bass.
OPTIMISTIC EVENTS PRESENTS KLANGDERNACHT + FIISHIR ROOM 2 Techno and gabber. ADAMANTINE CHAINS NICE 'N' SLEAZY Pop and electro. OPEN DECKS: POLYTERROR STEREO Leftfield club.
Thu 14 Aug
RELAY NICE 'N' SLEAZY House.
Fri 15 Aug
THE WOOK NICE 'N' SLEAZY Hip-house. IMPOSTER PROMOTIONS: MAP FUNDRAISER (DANIEL HIVE + UBRE BLANCA) STEREO House and techno.
Sat 16 Aug
SHOOT YOUR SHOTLEZZER QUEST THE BERKELEY SUITE House. WRONGPARTY! VLADIMIR IVKOVIC LA CHEETAH CLUB House. GLITTERBOX SWG3 House and disco. ELANDA NICE 'N' SLEAZY Electronica.
DRUMA NICE 'N' SLEAZY Disco and house.
Fri 29 Aug
ANIMAL FARM: BLASHA & ALLATT + QUAIL + LAZLO + AXION SUB CLUB Techno. CÉLESTE W/ ******** THE BERKELEY SUITE Techno. VELOCITY PRESENTS: RAGETRAIN + TXJ ROOM 2 Techno and gabber.
CARMEN BAIA NICE 'N' SLEAZY Jungle and baile funk.
JACUZZI BABY NICE 'N' SLEAZY House and disco. MELODIA STEREO House.
Sat 30 Aug
THROUGH THE ROOF BASEMENT SERIES: WATCHERS LA CHEETAH CLUB Tech house. M4 FESTIVAL SWG3 Hip-hop.
LABEL NIGHT WITH HARD TON + CESTRIAN + ALINA VALENTINA + TORRENT EXIT GLASGOW Electro and acid. BREAD & BUTTER NICE 'N' SLEAZY Disco.
Sun 31 Aug
PRESSURE: FJAAK + SLAM + LAZLO SWG3 Techno and dub techno.
Edinburgh
Clubs
Wed 30 Jul
MIDNIGHT BASS: AZIFM SNEAKY PETE'S Drum 'n' bass.
Thu 31 Jul
TREASURE, TREASURE: HONEY B + BARTEK SNEAKY PETE'S House.
Fri 1 Aug
EZSTREET THE LIQUID ROOMS House.
: MICHE + FRYER + LEL PALFREY SNEAKY PETE'S Disco. CLUB NACHT THE MASH HOUSE House and techno. MAKOSSA LIKE THIS LA BELLE ANGELE Acid and Afrohouse.
Sun 10 Aug
POSTAL X FORM 696: CHRISSY GRIMEZ + JI _2001 B2B ZO3 + MYRTLE + GILBO SNEAKY PETE'S Grime.
Mon 11 Aug
HEADSET'S GAY GARAGE SNEAKY PETE'S UK garage. Wed 13 Aug MIDNIGHT BASS SNEAKY PETE'S Drum 'n' bass. Thu 14 Aug RED ROOM SOUND SNEAKY PETE'S Techno. Fri 15 Aug
DISCOTIA SNEAKY PETE'S Disco. SAMEDIA SHEBEEN 15TH BIRTHDAY SESSION / PART 2 THE MASH HOUSE House and Latin.
did i see you in paradise? on the back of your brother’s motorbike there was no way of telling you and nobody wanted to
i saw you in paradise the debut album by former champ out on 19th september 2025
BIG GAY AFTERPARTY
LA BELLE ANGELE Queer club.
Sat 16 Aug
NOSTALGIA + MIGUEL CAMPBELL CABARET VOLTAIRE Deep house.
HEYDAY SNEAKY PETE'S Disco. INKOHERENT THE MASH HOUSE Hardcore. DECADE
LA BELLE ANGELE Pop punk and emo.
Sun 17 Aug
FREE TIME X NSA:
VLADIMIR IVKOVIC (EARLY SHOW) SNEAKY PETE'S Techno.
Mon 18 Aug
HEADSET'S GAY GARAGE SNEAKY PETE'S UK garage.
Wed 20 Aug
MIDNIGHT BASS SNEAKY PETE'S Drum 'n' bass. LUNAR: THEO KOTTIS THE MASH HOUSE House.
Thu 21 Aug
AGORA: LWS B2B GREGOR AM SNEAKY PETE'S Techno. FERAL THE MASH HOUSE Queer club.
Fri 22 Aug
CLUB MEDITERRANEO: ANDREA MONTALTO
B2B G. DELANO SNEAKY PETE'S Disco.
- FRINGE
RAVE 2K25 THE MASH HOUSE Techno and jungle.
BALKANARAMA LA BELLE ANGELE Balkan, gypsy and klezmer.
Sat 23 Aug
AC 6TH BIRTHDAY: ALIEN COMMUNICATIONS + DOMENIC CAPPELLO + JOS + STE ROBERTS LIVE CABARET VOLTAIRE Techno. FREE TIME: AXEL BOMAN (EARLY SHOW) SNEAKY PETE'S House. NEURONS: LOLA HARO + NOODLE SNEAKY PETE'S House. INKOHERENT THE MASH HOUSE Hardcore.
COMEDIANS’ DJ BATTLES LA BELLE ANGELE Pop.
Mon 25 Aug
HEADET'S GAY GARAGE SNEAKY PETE'S UK garage.
Tue 26 Aug
PINK PONY RAVE LA BELLE ANGELE Pop.
Wed 27 Aug
MIDNIGHT BASS: SIR HISS SNEAKY PETE'S Grime.
PINK PONY RAVE LA BELLE ANGELE Pop.
Thu 28 Aug
TAIS-TOI SNEAKY PETE'S House.
Fri 29 Aug
LIONOIL SNEAKY PETE'S House.
KEEP IT STEEL : GLAM- O -RAMA
BIG HAIRED METAL EXTRAVAGANZA LA BELLE ANGELE Rock and metal.
Sat 30 Aug
PULSE THE MASH HOUSE Techno.
Sun 31 Aug
EDINBURGH PSYCH FEST 2025 THE MASH HOUSE Psych.
Dundee Clubs
Sat 16 Aug
MOTUS MIDSUMMER PARTY WITH CRIHAN CANVAS House and techno.
Sat 30 Aug
DAY MOVES: GAV WILL + STEVIE COX NOLA BAR House and techno.
Glasgow Comedy
Glee Club
Glasgow GIANMARCO SORESI
SUN 17 AUG
Gianmarco Soresi is a critically acclaimed New York-based stand-up comedian, actor, and creator known for his sharp societal observation and spry, energetic stage presence.
GAURAV KAPOOR LIVE!
THU 31 JUL
Gaurav has proven year after year that he is funny and relatable across all formats. The show is in 95% Hindi and 5% English.
The Old Hairdressers
HAROLD NIGHT
TUE 5 AUG
Two Glasgow Improv Theatre house teams performing The Harold. Featuring F.L.U.S.H. and Raintown!
IMPROV FUCKTOWN
TUE 12 AUG
Welcome to Improv Fucktown, population: YOU! Different teams, trying different things!
GIT PREVIEW NIGHT 1
TUE 19 AUG
A preview night of new shows from the Glasgow Improv Theatre.
Glasgow Theatre
The King's Theatre
JOSEPH AND THE AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT
WED 30 JUL-SUN 3 AUG
Andrew Lloyd-Webber goes Biblical in this musical classic.
CIRQUE: THE GREATEST SHOWREIMAGINED
FRI 15 AUG
Circus meets musical theatre in this jaw-dropping spectacle of West End showstoppers.
THE JOURNEY BACK SAT 16 AUG
A heartwarming tale of the last decade of Rangers Football Club.
CHICAGO
2:22 A GHOST STORY MON 25 AUG-SAT 30 AUG
A supernatural thriller that took the West End by storm.
Theatre Royal THE PURE AMAZING
WIZ OF OZ MON 28 JUL-FRI 1 AUG
All all-singing all-dancing modern-day twist on the classic tale.
Tramway
KATHRYN GORDON: A JOURNEY OF FLIGHT
THU 31 JUL-FRI 1 AUG
An immersive performance of choreography, live music and light projection inspired by bird migration. THE UNLIKELY FRIENDSHIP OF FEATHER BOY AND TENTACLE GIRL
FRI 29 AUG-SAT 30 AUG
Aerial feats performed by some of Scotland's leading aerial artists, telling a heartwarming tale of friendship for the whole family.
Glasgow
Art
Glasgow School of Art MIGRANT
GARNETHILL
SAT 21 JUN-SAT 9 AUG
A community heritage project led by a small group from St Aloysius Church ESOL class exploring the diverse histories of migration in Glasgow Garnethill.
VICTORIA MORTON: SWITCH TRACK
FRI 27 JUN-SAT 9 AUG
A survey of works by GSAtrained artist exploring ideas of iconography and abstraction.
EMPIRE RETOLD: OTHER VOICES FROM THE BRITISH EMPIRE
EXHIBITION
THU 17 JUL-SAT 9 AUG
Drawing on the legacy of the Empire Exhibition of 1938 in Glasgow, this exhibition looks at those unrepresented in the official event alongside contemporary Glasgow artists exploring ideas of colonialism and empire.
Glasgow Women's Library
MADHUBANI PAINTINGS
EXHIBITION
THU 17 JUL-SAT 20 SEP
In celebration of South Asian Heritage Month, this exhibition brings together traditional folk art Madhubani paintings from the collection.
South Block
THE WONDER WALL: PRINTMAKING SANS
FRONTIERS
FRI 27 JUN-SAT 16 AUG
Over 50 linocut prints exploring the egalitarian possibilities of printmaking.
The Briggait
MICHELLE CAMPBELL:
EDEN
SAT 28 JUN-MON 11 AUG
A vibrant sensory map of neurodivergent perception exploring the blurred lines between feeling and form.
The Modern Institute
SPENCER SWEENEY: LARRY RASBERRY AND THE HIGH STEPPERS
FRI 6 JUN-WED 27 AUG
JIM LAMBIE: HOT
FOAM
FRI 6 JUN-WED 27 AUG
A newly developed installation of sculptures and paintings reconfiguring everyday objects in conversation with the gallery space.
SIMON PERITON: NATIONAL
GEOGRAPHIC
FRI 6 JUN-WED 27 AUG
British artist whose work encompasses painting, sculpture and installation.
Tramway
SOLANGE PESSOA
SAT 10 MAY-MON 22 SEP
One of Brazil's most preeminent living sculptors brings together large-scale constellations of organic materials referencing landscapes, archaeology and historical narratives from both Brazil and Scotland.
SARAH ROSE: TORPOR
SAT 14 JUN-SUN 7 SEP
Working with waste materials, by-products or found objects, this exhibition interrogates what new, radical energy systems might look like.
Edinburgh
Art
&Gallery
FRAGMENTS
SAT 5 JUL-WED 30 JUL
A series of small scale collages by the gallery's artists.
KAREN STAMPER: SALVAGE
SAT 5 JUL-WED 30 JUL
Work made from discarded materials drawing on the visual language of forgotten industrial spaces.
City Art Centre
OUT OF CHAOS: POSTWAR SCOTTISH ART
1945-2000
SAT 17 MAY-SUN 12 OCT
A survey of work looking at the diversity and ambition of work that came out of the tumult of the Second World War.
JOHN BELLANY: A LIFE IN SELF-PORTRAITURE
SAT 31 MAY-SUN 28 SEP
Over 80 autopbiographical sketches and paintings documenting the work of one of the most eminent modern Scottish painters.
Collective Gallery
MERCEDES
AZPILICUETA: FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN, LIGHT ON THE HILL
FRI 20 JUN-SUN 7 SEP
Large-scale tapestries and installations by Argentinian artist explore lesser known gendered stories from history.
Dovecot Studios
IKEA: MAGICAL PATTERNS
FRI 18 JUL-SAT 17 JAN
An innovative exhibition exploring six decades of textile design by IKEA and the development of interior design.
VICTORIA CROWE: SHIFTING SURFACES
MON 28 JUL-SAT 11 OCT
Presented in partnership with The Scottish Gallery, this exhibition looks at the little known textile work of one of Scotland's most eminent contemporary artists.
EAF Pavilion
LEWIS
HETHERINGTON + CJ
MAHONY: WHO WILL BE REMEMBERED
HERE
THU 7 AUG-SUN 24 AUG
Moving image work featuring contributions by Robert Softley Gale, Harry Josephine Giles, Robbie MacLeòid and Bea Webster drawing intimate connections between queer people across Scottish history.
TRANS MASC
STUDIES: MEMORY IS A MUSEUM
THU 7 AUG-SUN 24 AUG
Tracing the histories of masculine gender diversity in Scotland, this exhibition imagines what an archive dedicated to trans masculinity could be.
JJ FADAKA + RIA
ANDREWS: MY BLOOD RUNS PURPLE
THU 7 AUG-SUN 24 AUG
An experimental short film of poetry, field music and testimony questioning the inequalities of healthcare offered to artists living in Black and gendered bodies.
Edinburgh Printmakers
AQSA ARIF: RAINDROPS OF RANI
FRI 1 AUG-SUN 2 NOV
Drawing on Pakistani folklore and imagery from an advert filmed in the artist's childhood council flat, this multimedia exhibition explores themes of fractured identity, displacement, and cultural synthesis.
ROBERT POWELL: HALL OF HOURS
FRI 1 AUG-SUN 2 NOV
Inspired by medieval Books of Hours, this intersection of printmaking and animation explores the how we conceptualise temporalities.
Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop
LOUISE GIBSON: BEACHHEADS
THU 7 AUG-SAT 30 AUG
Monumental scultpures made from discarded waste that speaks to the crisis of contemporary consumer culture.
MEGAN RUDDEN: LOVE IN THE ECOTONE
THU 7 AUG-SUN 31 AUG
Exploring the relationship between sculpture and language through the idea of the ecotone, a transitional space between two states.
Fruitmarket
MIKE NELSON: HUMPTY DUMPTY
FRI 27 JUN-SUN 5 OCT
Known for his immersive exhibitions, Mike Nelson transforms Fruitmarket into a new installation capturing the shifting nature of cityscapes.
Ingleby Gallery
AUBREY LEVINTHAL: MIRROR MATTER
SAT 28 JUN-SAT 13 SEP
Passing quotidian moments of a cast of characters living urban lives.
InSpace
TIPPING POINT: ARTIST RESPONSES TO AI
THU 7 AUG-SUN 31 AUG
Artists exploring how we respond to the present realities and future potentials of artificial intelligence.
Jupiter Artland
JONATHAN BALDOCK: WYRD
SAT 10 MAY-SUN 28 SEP
A zoo of hybrid animals formed from textile and clay exploring ideas of myth-making, queerness and hybridity.
GUY OLIVER: MILLENNIAL PRAYER
THU 7 AUG-SUN 28 SEP
Video, text and collage blend to satirically explore masculinity, politics and pop culture.
National Gallery of Modern Art
ARTIST ROOMS: BOURGEOIS, CHADWICK, MAPPLETHORPE
SAT 12 JUL-SUN 31 MAY
Bringing together major works from the national touring collection ARTISTS ROOMS.
National Museum of Scotland
NKEM OKWECHIME: OKOLO
WED 13 AUG-FRI 22 AUG
Stunning handprinted wallpaper and ceramic tiles co-created with community groups exploring ideas of African identity.
Out of the Blue
Drill Hall
PRINT EXPO 2525
FRI 8 AUG-SAT 23 AUG
A celebration of work by over 40 young artists, alongside workshops and a pop-up market.
Royal Botanic Gardens
Edinburgh
LINDER STERLING: DANGER CAME
SMILING
FRI 23 MAY-SUN 19 OCT
The first retrospective of Linder Sterling's photomontages remixing imagery from popular culture.
FUNGI SESSIONS
SAT 2 AUG-SUN 11 JAN
The premiere of Edinburghborn composer Hannah Read’s albums The Fungi Sessions Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 as an audiovisual installation.
Royal Scottish Academy
ANDY GOLDSWORTHY: FIFTY YEARS
SAT 26 JUL-SUN 2 NOV
A major exhibition showcasing a body of work by seminal Scottish artist, including several specially commissioned new works.
RSA: Royal Scottish Academy
SO MANY SUMMERS
SAT 2 AUG-SUN 7 SEP
An exhibition exploring the many moods of a Scottish summer.
Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art
YOUR ART WORLD
SAT 10 MAY-SUN 2 NOV
Artworks by young people across Scotland created specifically for this exhibition, supported by a team of freelance artists.
Sett Studios
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS
FRI 8 AUG-SUN 10 AUG
GET IN LOSER, WE’RE GOING TO SETT
STUDIOS
FRI 22 AUG-SUN 24 AUG
The gallery's studio holders present work created individually and collaboratively.
Stills SIÂN DAVEY: THE GARDEN
FRI 1 AUG-SAT 30 AUG
A series by acclaimed British photographer exploring expressions of sexuality, joy, and interdependence through nature.
Studies in Photography
SYLWIA KOWALCZYK: AFTERIMAGE
WED 30 JUL-SUN 31 AUG
A striking new solo exhibition by Edinburgh-based Polish artist.
Summerhall
SAM KISSAJUKIAN: PAINTINGS TO SLEEP ON SAT 26 JUL-MON 25 AUG
Bold experimental works created in specific emotional states to explore how emotions reflect in art.
ANNUAL GROUP EXHIBITION
SAT 26 JUL-SUN 21 SEP
Summerhall Arts' inaugural group show featuring visual artists working across all mediums.
Talbot Rice
Gallery
WAEL SHAWKY SAT 28 JUN-SUN 28 SEP
A new exhibition by Egyptian artist incorporating previous work for the Venice Biennale, exploring ideas of historicity and postcolonial identity.
The National Gallery of
Modern Art
RESISTANCE: HOW PROTEST SHAPED BRITAIN AND PHOTOGRAPHY SHAPED PROTEST
SAT 21 JUN-SUN 4 JAN
An unmissable exhibition conceived by acclaimed artist and filmmaker Steve McQueen.
The Scottish Gallery YUSUKE YAMAMOTO: THE DAPPLED GARDEN
THU 31 JUL-SAT 30 AUG
New work by internationally recognised silversmith and previous Glasgow School of Art resident.
Dundee
Art
V&A Dundee
GARDEN FUTURES: DESIGNING WITH NATURE
SAT 17 MAY-SAT 25 JAN
Bringing together artists and thinkers such as Derek Jarman and Jamaica Kincaid, this exhibition looks at the politics and aesthetics of the modern garden.
NINEWELLS HOSPITAL: CARE, COMMUNITY AND INNOVATION
SUN 1 JUN-SUN 14 SEP
Exploring over 50 years of medical and design innovation at Ninewells Hospital.
THREAD MEMORY: EMBROIDERY FROM PALESTINE
THU 26 JUN-MON 1 SEP
MON 18 AUG-SAT 23 AUG
Give 'em the old razzle dazzle in this energetic and sexy Prohibition-era musical.
Eclectic exhibition by New York multimedia artist.
Sett Studios' inaugural supporters exhibition, in which friends of the gallery run the space for the weekend.
Spotlighting the intricate art of tatreez and the ways in which folkcraft can capture moments of social and political change.
The Skinny On... Molly McGuinness
The Skinny gets to know hotshot northern comic Molly McGuinness ahead of her debut Edinburgh Fringe
What’s your favourite place to visit and why?
Stockport Emporium is my favourite place. There’s nothing I love more than buying random vintage tat and then getting a tuna melt and a cake in the cafe.
Favourite food and why?
Jalapeño and Cheese Max crisps. Greatest crisps of all time. I like the way they burn your mouth, it’s badass. They had Mission: Impossible on the packet for quite a while. Any crisps with Tom Cruise on are the crisps for me.
Favourite colour and why?
Yellow. It’s loud, it’s garish, it’s camp, it’s the colour of both the sun and urine and also Jalapeno and Cheese Max! Beautiful.
Who was your hero growing up?
Oh God, it was probably Hilary Duff. I just liked her vibe, she always acted slightly awkward in everything she did. To be fair I think I just fancied her.
Whose work inspires you now?
Nathan Fielder. The new season of The Rehearsal is unbelievable. The guy became a pilot for a laugh, he put every other comedian to shame.
What three people would you invite to your dinner party and what are you cooking?
Gary Busey, Trisha Paytas, and I’m gonna have a dead person if that’s alright… David Gest. I wouldn’t cook, I’d order a KFC and film a mukbang together.
What’s your all time favourite album?
Paul Simon – Hearts and Bones. I didn’t realise it was my favourite album until I found out it was the first thing I asked to listen to when I came out of a coma. It’s beautiful and the whole album is about Carrie Fisher just after their divorce. Iconic.
What’s the worst film you’ve ever seen?
Clifford. Martin Short acting like a little boy gives me the creeps. Disturbing.
Who or what makes you laugh the most?
Kay’s Cooking.
Who’s the worst?
Simon Pe
When did you last cry?
Brian Wilson’s death! He was such an angel and the world feels a little darker without him. God, I’m going to cry again now just thinking about it.
What are you most scared of?
I didn’t think I had any fears but after being in a coma from being really sick with sepsis, I had all these insane coma dreams that made me face all these deep fears I didn’t know I had. Turns out I’m
really scared of cowboys that work in Burger King who want to saw my legs off.
When did you last vomit and why?
After I saw the Sugababes a few months ago. It was one of the best gigs ever. We felt young again! We went to a club and I became the person I never thought I’d be. I forced every young person I saw to guess my age… making them compliment me on looking young although it was very clear I was over thirty. Then I puked.
Tell us a secret?
I don’t have a big toe nail on my left foot. For years I told people I loved wearing socks all the time, even when I had sex. By the way, it’s not a fungal thing! It was from a skateboard accident, way cooler.
Which celebrity could you take in a fight? Sharon Osbourne. It would be very scrappy but I think I could.
If you could be reincarnated as an animal, which animal would it be?
I asked my boyfriend this the other day and he said a monkey with tits but my best mate said I’m a dung beetle.
What’s your favourite plant?
Snake plant, also known as mother-in-law’s tongue. I’ve loved them since I saw one in the film Blue Velvet so they feel very Lynchian and mysterious. Also they don’t need much watering so they are really easy to look after.
What’s your top tip for surviving the Fringe?
Make sure I give myself enough time to do non Fringe-y things like go to the penny arcades at Portobello Beach or the cinema. I love the cinema in Edinburgh because it has 4DX where they spray water and wind at you, although the only film I know that comes out in August is the new Freaky Friday. I’d love it if they used it so Lindsay Lohan can spit on me.
