Thinking to stay sober, I drove into Soho at half nine. Unbelievable traffic. Still no parking spaces. We were booked for a late night show at Soho Theatre. In the end I gave up and parked in Brewer Street Car Park. They want a tenner an hour plus change. We walked into the crowded Soho Theatre bar at ten to ten.
I used to exist in places like that. There’d be little pockets of mates by coincidence all over the place in there. I’d be catching up with old friends, meeting new ones, doing something that felt like making friends even if after a while you forget who you’re with.
It was familiar but different in that bar tonight. Still the same bar, the same noise, the same vibe. No familiar faces though. My lot have all moved out of town or they’ve got the kids to think about. They watch the show and go home. Considering the cost of parking and the fact I couldn’t drink, my plan was the same tonight. Things were made easier by not knowing anyone in that bar. Too many times I’ve ended up somewhere underground at 4am after a late show in Soho. Tonight I got home just after midnight.
I like that space at the top. I brought a show there once in the faraway long ago times. I’ve seen friends scratch the things that made them famous up there. Tonight Frank and I were in to see Lachlan Werner with his Voices of Evil. It was fab.
Friday night in Soho and the audience was gobby. Lachlan knows he’s quick so he’s built loads of audience chaos into the show which is always a joy for me, and he rolled with it. He held people to account. He doesn’t let audience fob him off with crap answers, and he quite rightly hauled out one audience member for responding in their “acting voice”. There’s memories of Red Bastard in the way Brew, the (puppet?) witch piles into people trying to get off the attention-hook or trying to show off.
It’s a clown show with ventriloquism. He’s a delightful mischief of a clown, and when Brew talks she really talks. The show is exactly the sort of thing I love, and I’m so glad Frank introduced me to Lachlan. His joy is apparent, he sets things up to be live, he sends himself up and shares vulnerability with us, but also he’s witty as fuck and there’s a backbone of extremely hard work invisibly holding the whole silly fun ritualistic joyful nonsense up. He’s worked hard enough that all the chaos can happen and it will always hold together.
Now I’m gonna try and sleep. My patterns are all out of whack. I’ve been going to bed way too late and waking up at lunch. No more of that.
AlBarclay 