Tuesday 21 February 2017

Vula Viel review

Vula Viel

Yellow Arch
10th Nov 2016

I arrived at Yellow Arch with chattering knees on a bitterly cold evening, largely wanting to stay in and hug the radiator all night. I’d also spent the day sawing loft installations and my eyes were red and sore. So, the gig could have happily not happened for me as I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat in 10 layers of clothing. Not even willing to take my bobble hat off.
Within the first 30 seconds though, I knew I had made the right choice as I was quickly warmed up by this rhythmic five piece from London.
Vula Viel translates as good is good, and it’s hard to argue with that. Here was an ensemble of talented musicians playing infectious, traditional Ghanian music with aplomb.
Delivering an intensive and energetic performance that even pushed the performers physically to the edge. In particular; saxophonist George Crowley playing to the point of pain as he let out small yelps from squeezing every last breath out of his lungs. Which, without sounding masochistic, is just the commitment you wish to see from a band on a cold Thursday night.
People playing with real heart, soul and love, and this was evidenced no more so than through the leader of the group, Bex. Who energetically bounced on stage and made bashing the Gyil (a type of xylophone, since you asked) look the most fun instrument in the world to play.

My only disappointment was that it was sit down gig. For, as much as the band are at home in a jazz club, there’s no doubt with their soulful, danceable vibe they would storm a sweaty festival tent or club. More than capable of making anyone lose their proverbial digestive tract.
They certainly raised the roof here, even with my adroit loft installation skills.




Pants in my QUIZ





Quizarama-rama



Every Monday I don ladies flower print tights, a sparkly waistcoat, a Fez and a Charlie Chaplin moustache and go into pubs across Sheffield. This isn’t because of some fetish or mad shaman ritual (although in many ways it is), but to host a pub quiz.

The Quiz in question is Quizarama-rama; a ramshackle evening of nonsense questions, parlour games, crafty club endeavours and charity shop boutique effects. It’s a sort of Crystal maze on crystal meth, Blue Peter for excluded kids, or Robot wars without the robots. In essence it’s a quiz for folk that don’t like quizzes. An attempt to stretch out what can be done with the humble pub quiz. Turning it into a spectacle that makes people take off their spectacles and rub their eyes in disbelief.

This was my hope. It’s also a great excuse to wear tights. When I think about it, the number of people over the years that have unconsciously or consciously seen more than my full veg shop through those lycra stretchys would make Ron Jeremy blush.

Not that it is a blue show. If anything it’s a part of my childhood being re-enacted to a group of strangers. The sort of pretend show you would perform in-front of your teddies but here I perform in-front of adults and my teddies and puppets take up prominent supporting roles.

Some people think it take balls to do this sort of thing but as they can see from the silhouette of my tights this isn’t the case. It’s more that I take a sort of impish delight in knowing that Keith, the pub regular of 20 years is completely baffled at the sight of grown man holding up a stuffed lion and pretending it can talk.

This fires me up. Although what I mainly enjoy is just seeing adults playing. Forgetting they have serious jobs that involve emails, photocopying, coffee runs and instead have them complete equally absurd tasks like rolling lemons or sucking on Polos or making a Cupid costumes from newspaper and sellotape and singing a made up countries’ national anthems.

It’s a pleasure to see adults doing something silly because we don’t often get chance to. Being silly is empowering. It turns its nose up and sticks its tongue out to embarrassment; that most pernicious form of state control. Where you allow another’s opinions of yourself to creep in and take providence over your own. Sabotaging your own sense of fun and self worth. It’s a vile and ugly thing: embarrassment.



So, if dressing like an idiot and putting on voices helps others to embrace their inner idiots then all the better. 

For me I don’t want to put on a quiz where someone can show off how smart they are and then make some people feel stupid.I want one where everyone feels stupid and then embraces it. To show that success can be very random and that you can win a quiz like in life by just having fun, letting go and rolling a few lemons.



Quizarama-rama takes place on Mondays at the Cremorne 9pm

@quizaramarama

@stanskinny