I've spent a lot of July in the Oxford Bringe Preview Comedy Festival, and it's been great. My favourite shows were Leo Reich, Glenn Moore, Andrew O'Neill, Jess Foreteskew, and Sophie Duker, though the quality was very high overall. If you're going to the fringe, check one of these shows out.
JULIA-SOPHIE/ MARIA UZOR/ OCTAVAIA FREUD, Divine Schism, MAO, 1/7/22
Those of us who’ve been following Octavia Freud for a few years will have noticed that something has changed. It’s not the slinky, pulsating collision between banging electronica and post-punk introspection, and it sure as hell isn’t Martin Andrews’s hat which we’ve never seen him without, but it’s the foregrounding of humour in the performances. Tonight, Andrews doesn’t precisely tell jokes, but there’s a wry, sly absurdity, which fits into a particularly Northern comedy continuum. Opener “When I Was A Kid” tosses out laconic, waggish non-sequiturs over a cheeky beat like a Frank Sidebottom reworking of “Thou Shalt Always Kill”, and there are moments when a drawling Andrews embodies the spirits of Alan Vega and Ted Chippington at once, especially in set highlight “Tappin”, a coproduction with Adventures In Noise. Of course, it’s not all sardonic aphorisms and knowing winks, there’s “Hot Nights”, a neon disco sweatbounce which sounds like a back-alley twist on an 80s Diana Ross single. With a knowing wink.
Maria Uzor has visited Oxford a few times as part of the excellent duo Sink Ya Teeth, bringing a New York* new wave punk funk spirit. This solo set eschews the SYT minimalism and instead we are swept up by euphoric, insistent danc-pop. If the tempo has been upped a little, so has the reference period: gone are the sparse early 80s bass drums, and in their place are gnarlier loops and rhythms, nodding towards Detroit techno, early Aphex cymbal patterns, and even some big old Prodigy stadium breakbeats. However, there is a little clutch of children at this gig, who presumably aren’t au fait with dance music history, and they seem to be getting into it, running about and headbanging, so we conclude, “fuck cross-referencing, let’s dance”.
Julia-Sophie, previously known as Juju, Jules and many other variants, says she is “getting close to accepting my name”. This seems fitting, as she also looks more relaxed onstage than we’ve ever seen her, and is making the best music of her life. This set is testament to what one can achieve with interesting synth parts, some good ideas, and a hell of a voice. The music is twitchily busy, yet friendly and hook-laden; dense but spacious; melancholy but uplifting. It’s like a Zen koan that you can nod along to. “Telephone”, the last song before an unexpected solo guitar encore, is simple but heart-wrenching, a teen movie credits theme being sucked slowly into the void, and sadly waving goodbye. But, just possibly, with another knowing wink.
*Actually Norwich
