Election Day at the Traverse Theatre with David Greig’s Two Minute Manifesto

Of course, childishly, I have had enough of politics. I can't see the relationship between my daily life and the chatter of the party system - which seems to be breaking down into a vicious tribalism. That's probably just the newspapers framing it all. They probably don't want me to vote.

A new addition to its Spring season, the Traverse will host Two Minute Manifesto, curated by Scottish playwright, David Greig, Scottish Greens activist for Edinburgh North & Leith, Sarah Beattie-Smith, and writer and filmmaker, Christopher Silver.

I do have time for David Greig - in so far as I'll listen to his opinion. I don't mind Green activists, either. I can tolerate Green politics, because it is a bit like mine - nervous, and willing to adapt, sometimes.

Political debate and discussion reached a new level in 2014 with a range of different voices coming to the fore in the run-up to the Referendum. 

And it is reaching a new low with the leader of one party trying to prove his machismo by shouting 'hell, yeah' and Boris Johnson being allowed on TV again. Stick to the Classics, Bozzer. 

Next week, on Thursday 7 May at 1pm and 10.30pm, Two Minute Manifesto will offer a space to look at the bigger picture on the day of the General Election. Guests are invited to bring their own personal manifesto ideas to the stage, from the serious to the silly, and present them in 2 minutes. This packed format will talk about big ideas with humour, music, audience interaction, and expert analysis of the current political climate.



At 1pm, presenters David Greig and Sarah Beattie-Smith will be joined for an hour-long show by five guests, including Scottish playwright, Linda McLean, Juliet Swann, Campaigns and Research Officer at Electoral Reform Society Scotland, working on 'Democracy Max' programme and Peter Geoghan, journalist and author of The People’s Referendum: Why Scotland Will Never Be the Same Again.

The temptation to turn up and shout 'a plague on both your houses' for two minutes, before being dragged off by Peter Geoghan is high.

In the second show at 10:30pm, presenters David Greig and Mairi McFadyen will be joined by guests including singer Karine Polwart, four times winner at BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards; Ian Fraser, author of Inside RBS, The Bank That Broke Britain(named as Book of the Year in 2014 by the Financial Times, Bloomberg, The Week and Huffington Post) and Hannah McGill, freelance writer and critic, and former Artistic Director of the Edinburgh International Film Festival.

A side point: the RBS broke me as well. I dislike them for their utter lack of humanity in their dealings with - well, me.

Karine Polwart has a nice voice, mind.



Curator and presenter, David Greig comments: “I love the atmosphere of the Traverse on Election Day. The bar’s full of gossip, speculation, wit and whisky. Two Minute Manifesto is an attempt to make a show that captures that spirit. We’ve got fascinating guests who can talk about culture and ideas, top writers looking back at the campaign and forward to the future, as well as some great music. Who knows what’s going to happen on 7 May but whatever the result, the Traverse is the place for discussion, debate and passionate ambivalence.”

Thursday 7 May, 1pm and 10.30pm

Ticket price: £8/£6 concession

Booking at www.traverse.co.uk | 0044 (0) 131 228 1404



Guest line-up for Two Minute Manifesto



1pm performance

Presenters: David Greig and Sarah Beattie-Smith

Guests:

Linda McLean

Juliet Swann

Peter Geoghan

James Kelly

Chrissy Barnacle



10.30pm performance

Presenters: David Greig and Mairi McFadyen

Guests:

Karine Polwart

Ian Fraser

Hannah McGill

Wounded Knee

Christopher Silver

Stephen Greenhorn

If you have been missing me...

Argghh.

If I can just move this...

Hang on, sitting down might be better... no, that doesn't help.

It is the time of year... let me just adjust my leg... when every email I receive begins with a cheerful... I am going to stretch it out, see if that helps... with a cheerful 'hope you are recovered from the fringe.'

I am not. The image for this page is both a shout out to an artist who is doing an event with Screen Bandita this month and a clue as to why... I don't think I ought to have walked into the office today...

I have so much to say on matters relating to the Fringe: the sharp pains shooting up my right arm are encouraging an especially bitter perspective. In brief, I was disappointed. I saw plenty of interesting work, but very little that deserved extravagant praise. Certain venues seemed to be presenting an idea of themselves - all very curated and considered - without remembering that they were part of a performance festival, not a university lecture programme.

I won't name names until the injury has healed. Sometimes, perspective is important.

I am sorry that nothing came close to Red Bastard, especially since he was in the comedy section. But I could only accept his lack of awards at the end of the Fringe because one of the Wau Wau sisters won something.

I did enjoy the play about swearing.

I think I might be doing a bit of that... I thought that freezing the leg was the right thing to do?

Lost and Found and Wounded

I've been rereading Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, part of my research into the history of criticism for the Young Critics course at Tramway. Hoping to find some kind of style guide for my vision of Radical Subjectivity, I was disappointed by Bangs' writing: it tends to the adolescent, a match for the energy of the garage rock that Bangs adored, but wearing its influences too clearly on the sleeve - Kerouac, Burroughs' more coherent passages and that's about it. 

Whether Bangs could have thrived in the era of  MTV is a moot, given his entry into the they-died-too-young pantheon of rock: such unabashed romanticism, however, would have struggled to deconstruct the corporate take-over of rock that had already happened by his death in the early 1980s.

Thanks to my Radio Hour, I have challenged myself to go beyond theatre - I am becoming a cultural critic these days. And part of this mutation is expressed in a slightly creepy fixation on "youth music". I've been standing in the corner of the disco again, watching the bright young things groove to tunes that sound like something I liked when I was a teenager.

I have recognised my own subjectivity, and so end up being generous to bands that, frankly, I really don't understand. Found have been touted by The Skinny as some sort of art-rock saviours: people I trust have told me that I'd dig their artistic associations. They certainly got some cash from Creative LandScot, and they have just released a single made out of chocolate. So, they must be artists, right?

I played them on the Hour, but can't exactly remember what the tunes sounded like. Last week, I went to see them live at the aftermath of a special showing of You Instead - filmed over 2010's T in the Park, it wastes both Gavin Mitchell and Cora Bissett by forgetting that a witty script is necessary, even for a gimmick based movie. A week later, and I still can't remember what Found sound like, only that their electronic aspect consisted of one underused keyboard, the guitar picked out a ghost version of Godspeed You Black Emperor's majestic rush and that the singer invested his lyrics with serious intent by pulling a face.

Edinburgh leaks bands like this all the time - rather than fusing diverse genres, they blur the boundaries into a bland broth - and they seem to serve a particular audience - young, hip and serious. 

The chocolate single is a typical trick. Yes, I am sure it says something about the nature of pop, disposability and consumerism. And since the idea is far more interesting than the thing itself, it ticks a few conceptual art boxes. I know that the audience are supposed to do the work these days, that it's not all about the object. But the best thing about this little trick is that even the sucker who buys it won't actually have to listen to the music.

While I am not claiming that Wounded Knee would agree with my sentiments, I am going to set him up as my antidote to Found. First of all, every time he performs, it is something unique. Whether he is singing along to his grandfather's tape recording of "dhu-wop", or encouraging the hipsters of SWG3 to join in an old walking song, Wounded Knee is fresh, fun and provocative. That his voice has the richness of an old folk singer, and the passion of a soul man, only disguises the artful intelligence beneath his restless performances. Unlike Found, who proudly proclaim their artiness.

Listening to Wounded Knee is a surface delight, but slowly reveals deeper pleasures. He can work an audience kindly, breaking that old fourth wall and reminding them how they too are part of the show. He draws the link between Scottish folk and US soul - something that once inspired Scottish rock, but was always mystifyingly oblique. His musical family tree makes sly jokes about language, influence and identity. And more than any other musician working today in Scotland, he reaches the soul.

Found dress up like gentleman fops - a look that was pulled off better by comedy rapper Mr B at the Fringe, or by Chris Eubank, who ripped it from early UK hip-hop - in a self-conscious attempt to invest their music with presence. 

Wounded Knee just gets up and sings, and  recalls Greil Marcus' meditation on The Mekons' Never Been in a Riot. Marcus called this the most punk recording ever, because it just relied on the human voice, reducing the rage to a spectral moaning.

Now, for all my moaning about Lester Bangs, I have a fair idea which artist he'd prefer. Found seem to work very hard to make a minor point; Wounded Knee busts open all sorts of ideas about rock'n'roll by just standing on stage. Maybe, had Bangs lived, Wounded Knee might have helped him become the writer he is imagined to be.

Lost and Found

I've been rereading Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, part of my research into the history of criticism for the Young Critics course at Tramway. Hoping to find some kind of style guide for my vision of Radical Subjectivity, I was disappointed by Bangs' writing: it tends to the adolescent, a match for the energy of the garage rock that Bangs adored, but wearing its influences too clearly on the sleeve - Kerouac, Burroughs' more coherent passages and that's about it. Whether Bangs could have survived to write about MTV is a moot, given his entry into the they-died-too-young pantheon of rock: such unabashed romanticism, however, would have struggled to deconstruct the corporate take-over of rock that had already happened by his death in the early 1980s.

Thanks to my Radio Hour, I have challenged myself to go beyond theatre - I am becoming a cultural critic these days. And part of this mutation is expressed in a slightly creepy fixation on "youth music". I've been standing in the corner of the disco again, watching the bright young things groove to tunes that sound like something I liked when I was a teenager.

I have recognised my own subjectivity, and so end up being generous to bands that, frankly, I really don't understand. Found have been touted by The Skinny as some sort of art-rock saviours: people I trust have told me that I'd dig their artistic associations. They certainly got some cash from Creative LandScot, and they have just released a single made out of chocolate. So, they must be artists, right?

I played them on the Hour, but can't exactly remember what the tunes sounded like. Last week, I went to see them live at the aftermath of a special showing of You Instead - filmed over 2010's T in the Park, it wastes both Gavin Mitchell and Cora Bissett by forgetting that a witty script is necessary, even for a gimmick based movie. A week later, and I still can't remember what Found sound like, only that their electronic aspect consisted of one underused keyboard, the guitar picked out a ghost version of Godspeed You Black Emperor's majestic rush and that the singer invested his lyrics with serious intent by pulling a face.

Edinburgh leaks bands like this all the time - rather than fusing diverse genres, they blur the boundaries into a bland broth - and I wouldn't mind if they weren't getting funding off LandScot. The chocolate single is a typical trick. Yes, I am sure it says something about the nature of pop, disposability and consumerism. And since the idea is far more interesting than the thing itself, it ticks a few conceptual art boxes. I know that the audience are supposed to do the work these days, that it's not all about the object. But the best thing about this little trick is that even the sucker who buys it won't have to actually listen to the music.

While I am not claiming that Wounded Knee would agree with my sentiments, I am going to set him up as my antidote to Found. First of all, every time he performs, it is something unique. Whether he is singing along to his grandfather's tape recording of "dhu-wop", or encouraging the hipsters of SWG3 to join in an old walking song, Wounded Knee is fresh, fun and provocative. That his voice has the richness of an old folk singer, and the passion of a soul man, only disguises the artful intelligence beneath his restless performances. Unlike Found, who proudly proclaim their artiness.

Listening to Wounded Knee is a surface delight, but slowly reveals deeper pleasures. He can work an audience kindly, breaking that old fourth wall and reminding them how they too are part of the show. He draws the link between Scottish folk and US soul - something that once inspired Scottish rock, but was always mystifyingly oblique. His musical family tree makes sly jokes about language, influence and identity. And more than any other musician working today in Scotland, he reaches the soul.

Found dress up like gentleman fops - a look that was pulled off better by comedy rapper Mr B at the Fringe, or by Chris Eubank, who ripped it from early UK hip-hop - in a self-conscious attempt to invest their music with presence. Wounded Knee just gets up and sings, and  recalls Greil Marcus' meditation on The Mekons' Never Been in a Riot. Marcus called this the most punk recording ever, because it just relied on the human voice, reducing the rage to a spectral moaning.

Now, for all my moaning about Lester Bangs, I have a fair idea which artist he'd prefer. Found seem to work very hard to make a minor point; Wounded Knee busts open all sorts of ideas about rock'n'roll by just standing on stage. Maybe, had Bangs lived, Wounded Knee might have helped him become the writer he is imagined to be.