Queer, overstimulated and still standing: How to survive the Fringe
Pure Life Plus’s Brendon Ludlow imparts a little Fringe wisdom and a few show recommendations
As a queer person, Edinburgh Fringe can be overwhelming, overstimulating and, quite frankly, completely over the top. Thousands of shows, packed streets, flyers coming at you from every direction and the inevitable moment when your carefully constructed schedule completely implodes.
Take it from someone who has done Fringe a few times – as a performer, producer and now reviewer – survival requires more than comfortable shoes. Sometimes you need a show that puts the pep back in your step, restores your faith in Fringe and reminds you why you came here in the first place.
Talking of experience, sometimes it pays to put yourself in the hands of artists who have done this before. There are several returning performers and productions this year presenting new work, reworked shows or simply coming back for another well-deserved lap of the Fringe.
My Grandpa Doesn’t Follow Me on Instagram (pictured above) brings a deeply personal trans-generational story to Edinburgh, mixing queer identity, family, humour and heart in a show that can have you laughing one minute and reaching for the tissues the next.
Skank Sinatra takes exceptional vocals, musical comedy and a gloriously filthy queer sensibility and wraps them together in a performer who knows exactly how to command a room. This is musical comedy with serious musical chops: camp, clever, polished and delivered by a voice that could comfortably sit on some of the biggest stages in the world.
Then there’s Swamplesque, returning for its final Edinburgh Fringe season after multiple sell-out runs. A Shrek-inspired burlesque spectacular really shouldn’t work this well, but it absolutely does. Expect powerhouse vocals, exceptional burlesque, endless Shrek references and the kind of wonderfully unhinged spectacle that has built the show its loyal following.
Kinder uses clowning, drag, comedy and immaculate lip-sync to explore much heavier ideas around family and generational trauma without losing its sense of play. Australian Arthur Hull’s Flop arrives with musicality, comedy and enormous stage presence, proving that despite its title, there is very little flopping going on.
And then there’s A Foot Is Not an Appropriate Prize For The Tombola, one of those wonderfully strange Fringe experiences that is almost impossible to explain without ruining it. What initially appears rough around the edges gradually reveals itself as something far more deliberate, clever and intricately constructed. My advice? Go in knowing as little as possible and let it get you.
There is something reassuring about seeing artists return to Fringe knowing exactly how this strange ecosystem works. They’ve survived the tiny venues, relentless schedules, unpredictable audiences, questionable diets and general chaos – and somehow they’ve come back with something more to say.
That doesn’t mean playing it safe. Quite the opposite. These shows demonstrate what happens when experience gives artists the confidence to push their work further, take bigger risks and understand exactly what their audiences need.
So when Fringe fatigue hits, sometimes trusting those who have already survived the madness is a pretty good strategy.
After all, they came back voluntarily. That has to count for something.
Picture: Daniel Marks.
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