Jeremy Brown

Live Review: Blossoms @ Exeter Lemon Grove

I‘m just going to put it out there: I liked Blossoms before they were cool. Admittedly, it was just a few months before they were cool — I discovered them while stumbling around Spotify in my never-ending quest for a new band to adore — but it’s still worth remembering.

After all, they haven’t even been on the circuit for very long, having formed just a few years ago in 2013. Back then, this fledgling five-piece saved cash by rehearsing in a scaffolding yard in their hometown of Stockport, but they quickly found traction in the rock-loving suburbs of Madchester, releasing their first single in January 2014.

Back then, this fledgling five-piece saved cash by rehearsing in a scaffolding yard in their hometown of Stockport

2016 was indisputably their year; although they only got round to releasing their (chart-topping) debut album in August, by then they had already made countless festival appearances, and they’d received widespread adoration on the airwaves.

Fast forward to 2017, and Blossoms are in Exeter, gracing the sold-out Lemon Grove for the NME Awards Tour: a long-lasting celebration of music which boasts an illustrious legacy of outstanding acts, including The Killers, The Maccabees and, of course, Arctic Monkeys.

With their opening line of “Hello… Lincoln? Hello… Sheffield?”, at first I’m fooled into thinking that support act Cabbage are simply funny guys; by the time the singer is taking his shirt off and spitting into the crowd, however, I’ve realised they’re just a bit arrogant.

Although their music isn’t something I’d normally listen to, it’s captivating live, and it gets better throughout their act; the build-up in ‘Fickle’ is especially scintillating, and the lyrics are entertaining too: “Well I’m the ficklest f*cker in town / No f*cker is more fickle around”. ‘Necroflat in the Palace’ is a solid highlight, with the tingling bass moving the plastic cup in my hand, but nonetheless I’m relieved when it’s time for them to make way.

The introduction of Blossoms is almost comically epic: with glorious lighting and dramatic music heralding their entrance onto the stage, I’m not sure whether this is either another traditionally-cocky indie-rock band, or else a group who simply know how to have a bit of fun; when they cover Oasis’ ‘Half the World Away’ and Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ later on, you start to realise that perhaps it’s a bit of both.

Funky crowdpleaser ‘At Most a Kiss’ opens proceedings, and some especially die-hard fans quickly filter to the surface, bouncing front-and-centre at the feet of lead singer Tom Ogden. The band’s creativity is plain to see from the very beginning, as this first song fades into ‘Texia’ through a brief ABBA riff, and this skillful blurring continues as they merge from the brash twangs of ‘Blow’ to the slick beats of ‘Getaway’. Ogden does pause to chat to the crowd too, showing genuine charm. This is further evident when he slows things down for the acoustic melodies of ‘My Favourite Room’. “Has anyone been dumped recently?” he asks the audience, and, when ‘Millie’ screams out in confirmation, he cheekily pops her name into the lyrics: “With youuuu,” he serinades, “you make it so real”.

Although they only have one album to work with, there are a few new tracks littered throughout the set, like bouncy B-side ‘Across the Moor’, and the more powerful ‘Madeleine’ which successfully riles fans up thanks to a beastly guitar solo.

I hardly recognise ‘Smashed Pianos’ as it creeps into the room; it’s probably my least favourite track on the album, perhaps due to the muffled uncanniness of the recording, but the tune bursts with psychedelic colour when performed live, and the sharp syllables of “crash like smashed pianos” pulsate through the crowd.

It’s worth saying that the show’s lights really are a force to be reckoned with; at the start of the night, when I squeezed uncomfortably into the back of the Lemon Grove, it was impossible to ignore Blossoms’ monstrous tech setup, but when you see the stage drizzled in a wealth of amber for single ‘Honey Sweet’ (a tribute to Exeposé Music?), it’s clear to see why.

…It was impossible to ignore Blossoms’ monstrous tech setup

Similarly, when they re-enter for their encore, the epic lights are back in force: for a moment, I think I’m awaiting Robbie Williams’ arrival at Wembley, before I snap back into reality.

Suddenly, the gig’s nearly over, and there’s only time for one final flourish; to the delight of the (cute) mosh pit, Blossoms close with their number one single, ‘Charlemagne’. Even my disgust at seeing a fan filming the entire show on Facebook Live doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of the evening.

As I leave the Lemon Grove with a smile on my face, I notice with surprise how mild the weather is — it’s been a while since I’ve been able to saunter home after a night out — and I realise that it’s March 21st, the official start of spring. Really, I should have noticed; after all, the Blossoms are well and truly blooming.

Every 2017 Sabb campaign video

Are you already struggling to keep up with the Sabb elections? If so, don’t panic… We’ve compiled a run-down of all the campaign videos for you to peruse – and you can even watch it in the safety of your own room, far away from the harassing (but lovely) hoards on Forum Hill.

Guild President

Luke Avery

Luke did not produce a video.

Helena Brenner

Shades

Kane Davis

Pete Gillibrand

Ed Mudd

Soma Piritryi

Will Vasey

VP Education

Helena Leslie

Bryony Loveless

Matt Wilcock

VP Welfare & Diversity

Jess Cassidy

Hayden Cooper

Hope Hughes

Kat Karamani

Louise Ord

Olena Savytska

Sam Shie

Nicola Wong

VP Activities

Alasdair Gibbs

Becca Hanley

Charlie Smee

AU President

Jim Balshaw

Issy Cole

Bibek Gurung

Alex Harper

Emily Robinson

Imo Wade-Palmer

PG Taught

Tessa Crossley

Did not produce a video.

Caitlin Rankin-McCabe

PG Research

Malaka Shwaikh

Did not produce a video.

If we’re missing your campaign video, just email us at editors@exepose.com

What the hell is hygge?

Denmark — the land of Lego, pastries and Carlsberg — perhaps doesn’t stand out as the most exciting and innovative of countries. But there’s a new export from the colourful streets of Copenhagen, a Viking invader which has conquered our design stores and filled our boutiques, and its name is ‘hygge’.

IT’S BEST UNDERSTOOD
AS A WAY OF LIFE

That’s “hoo-guh”, to you and me, and in Britain it’s come to represent the Scandinavian concept of cosiness. It became quite the trend in 2016, taking over the bookshelves of middle-class mums, and finishing as runner-up in a handful of ‘word of the year’ contests (the dying breaths of the dictionary industry).

So, curious about this foreign concept (apparently I need to be afraid of migrants), I took to the internet to find out what it actually means.

Due to its abstract nature, it’s pretty hard to put a finger on what hygge actually is, but a quick scroll through Pinterest reveals the basic essentials — the starter pack of Scandi serenity, if you will: candles, oversized jumpers and a comfy pair of socks are all essential. The closest we Brits have is the idea of “a nice cup of tea” — which can represent anything from a simple brew to a chance to take a break from the stresses and strains of modern life.

A ‘wintery’ feeling is clearly the key, and no wonder, considering that hygge has its roots in the dark, dark north. With an average temperature of precisely 0 degrees celsius in Copenhagen this month, there’s no wonder they take the time to relax and look after each other. After all, a Danish person would tell you that it’s actually best understood as a ‘way of life’: a psychological state of peace which stresses the importance of enjoying life’s simple pleasures: friends, family and comfort.

It’s at the heart of Scandi interior design, too: think natural woollen rugs, cushioned window seats, and minimalist wooden furniture. Apparently warm, dimly-lit lamps should also be dotted about the room too, for a comforting candle-like glow. The goal is to create the idea of a ‘home, sweet home’.

It’s easy to get involved, too. Next time there’s a storm outside and your coursework is getting you down, just turn your phone off, find a roaring fire (or just imagine one) and unwind. It doesn’t have to be indoors either: try a walk in the woods, surrounded by birdsong — like a modern-day Peter Rabbit. I promise you there’s nothing better than a weekend away in a cottage in Cornwall to take a break from the treadmill of university life, surrounded by friends and the comforting warmth of a log fire. I didn’t realise it at the time, but this is the hygge dream.

In short, there’s a reason our northern neighbours consistently rank as some of the happiest people in the world. Admittedly, Hamlet thought that “something is rotten in this state of Denmark”, but perhaps he just needed a little hygge in his life.

Statue of former Chancellor Floella Benjamin to be unveiled on campus

On Friday 10 February, the University is unveiling a new statue on a small patch of grass between Devonshire House and Queen’s Building. The statue is a head-and-shoulders bust of Baroness Floella Benjamin OBE, who worked as Chancellor of the University of Exeter between 2006 and 2016.

During her decade at the University, Benjamin was well-known for her dedication to graduation events, attending nearly 200. It has been estimated that Benjamin spoke to over 30,000 graduating students over the years.

Workers installed the stone brick base surrounding the structure.

Update: Floella Benjamin attended the unveiling ceremony with her husband at 12.30pm.

The history behind the Royal Clarence Hotel

Even before the events of last week, it seemed like there weren’t many beautiful old buildings left in Exeter. The Baedeker Blitz – in which the Nazis attacked British cities of cultural and historical signiﬁcance – rapidly turned our beloved city from “the Jewel of the West” to what I can only describe as a hastily-rebuilt ode to concrete. So when I ﬁrst heard about the hotel’s destruction early on Friday morning – and the threat of the ﬁ re spreading – I was gutted. But I have to confess, the media’s response made far too much about this being “the oldest hotel in England”. A quick bit of research reveals that the owner at the time was French, and decided ‘hôtel’ was a better name than ‘inn’ – hardly groundbreaking. I like to think our constant
obsession with the ﬁrst, oldest or best shouldn’t matter, either.

I’d question how much the average person actually knew about the building before the ﬁre

The hotel was still a pretty piece of architecture at the heart of the city, and there’s now an empty gap in the facades which wrap around Cathedral Green, which is a shame however you look at it. Although the whole nation has reacted appropriately to this tragic ‘loss of history’, I’d question how much the average person actually knew about the building before the ﬁre (myself included). So I’ve had a quick look through www.exetermemories.co.uk to gather together some choice morsels of history. It’s a wonderful website, and I’d fully recommend taking a look – it’s an incredible local archive, and exactly the sort of thing we should be celebrating considering the recent events.

The site also made me realise that instead of getting too upset about the Clarence’s destruction, we should above all be thankful for the exceptional work of the ﬁ re services to protect the rest of the city: like the gorgeous, timberframed Tudor Mansion House behind the hotel, now home to Laura Ashley. Once we’ve mourned the things that we’ve lost, let’s start to celebrate the things that remain…

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3884970/England-s-oldest-hotel-destroyed-collapse-completely-fierce-fire-tore-historic-property.html

1801

Admiral Nelson was awarded the freedom of the city, but he rejected the banquet which had been put on at the Guildhall, and chose instead to eat back at the hotel.

1820
The dead body of the Duke of Kent was kept overnight at the hotel, before transportation to his funeral at Windsor

1827

The hotel was renamed in recognition of the Duchess of Clarence (wife of future king, William IV), and the building was restyled to ﬁt an Egyptian theme.

1840
Pianist and composer Franz Liszt performed there while travelling the country with a small ensemble.

Rumour has it that the police have no power on its premises, due to its ecclesiastical heritage – only the verger of the Cathedral can lock up drunk

Electric bike scheme arrives on campus

A new self-service electric bike hire scheme called Co-bikes has been launched in Exeter.

Functioning like Santander Cycles in London (more commonly referred to as ‘Boris Bikes’), the scheme allows for bikes to be hired and dropped-off in various locations around Exeter. So far, there are docking stations at the University of Exeter (outside the Forum), Exeter Central Station, and Sowton Park-and Ride, with each dock holding between four and eight bikes.

Members can pay as little as 75p for a 30-minute journey, whereas non-members would pay a minimum of £1.50. A membership costs £60 annually.

The system utilises mobile app technology, allowing members to hire bikes on a pay-as-you-go basis, 24/7. The bikes last for an average of 40-60 miles of power-assisted pedalling, and can reach a maximum speed of 15mph.

The initiative was created by Exeter-based not-for-proﬁt co-operative, Cocars, who offer hire-by-the-hour vehicles throughout the South West , linking Exeter to areas like Salisbury and Dorchester.

The company have plans to add docking stations at the Civic Centre and the County Hall later this year, building up to a total of eight sites in Exeter by mid-2017. Co-bikes is also a member of
the nextbike network, a worldwide project which has UK schemes in cities across the country, from Glasgow to Milton Keynes.

The University’s Travel Plan Coordinator, Joel Smith, explained: “We wanted to provide our staff, students and visitors with a sustainable and affordable way to get around the city.”

Devon County Council partially funded the scheme, which was also supported by a variety of companies and institutions, including the Department of Transport, Exeter City Council and the University of Exeter.

ExTunes at the Old Firehouse 18/09/16

It’s the Sunday of Freshers’ Week, and something isn’t quite right. It’s not a raging hangover (surprisingly), nor is it a powerful sense of dread at the thought of lectures tomorrow. Something’s been missing from my life for weeks now – and I just don’t know what.

Later that evening, nestled comfortably in a familiar landscape of oak beams and dim orange light, I realise what my problem had been: I’d been suffering from Firehouse Withdrawal Symptoms.

I’d been suffering from firehouse withdrawal symptoms

For those of you new to the University, the Old Firehouse is a homely location in Exeter which places itself somewhere between a pub and a restaurant. In other words, the cider is famous, but the pizza is practically world-renowned, and the combination of the two means that Firehouse is consistently perfect. For the keen fresher, though, there are two specific nights to look out for: DJ Jude and Crazy Terry’s Pub Quiz, and (far more importantly) ExTunes Live on a Sunday.

This particular session starts with singer-songwriter Nick Hurford. His guitar is busy warming up, and the lively strumming has enticed the eager audience to already start gathering round the stage.

A few minutes later, Hurford is breaking out into a Johnny Cash cover, ‘Folsom Prison Blues’, and the first signs are promising. He’s clearly a skilled musician, but his voice also ticks all the boxes; and it’s adaptable, too: I can definitely hear an American country accent sneaking into the lyrics. Hurford clearly knows how to balance a song perfectly too, and he manages to dial the tone of this lilting tune down from lively to soft in an instant.

Over the course of the next few songs, we’re back on home turf, flying around England, and the adaptability of his voice becomes even more prevalent. First off, he switches to The Beatles’ ‘I’ll Get You’, and a Liverpudlian twang fades in; it doesn’t feel like this is his comfort zone, but it’s still a confident performance. It’s completely overshadowed by Blur’s ‘Tender’ (“not an Oasis cover”, Hurford jokes), which shows his control of both the emotional lyrics (“Tender is the ghost / The ghost I love the most”) and his guitar, with a passionate solo at the end. “Spot on!”, someone shouts.

He manages to dial the tone of this lilting tune down from lively to soft in an instant

Soon, I’m taken back home to Sheffield, and Hurford acknowledges it’s hard to avoid putting on a northern accent for Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Mardy Bum’. This is a personal favourite of mine, but that only means there’s a lot of pressure as those opening chords float across the room. Luckily, Hurford doesn’t disappoint, delivering a perfect, fairly romantic rendition of the track: the fractional pauses before “cuddles” and “kitchen” are a particularly nice touch. If anything, I want it to feel even more like an acoustic version though, maybe by changing the pace. Nevertheless, it was such a beautiful performance that a guitar string snaps under the pressure. A few minutes later, James from Flaws Above comes to the rescue, much to the crowd’s delight.

After a quick recalibration, Hurford is straight back into action, unleashing his final accent: the country-infused vibes of Nottingham songwriter Jake Bugg. ‘Love Me The Way You Do’. “I wanna hold you / and kiss you goodnight”, he sings, and – judging by the pleasing original earlier on – this seems much closer to Hurford’s natural voice. It’s a neat rendition, and a great way to finish.

Next up are Flaws Above, a fledgling indie band forged in the fires of our very own Campus Bands. Full disclosure: I’m a massive fan of these guys, and I’m hoping that the close quarters of the Old Firehouse will bring a whole new dimension to their music.

Confident guitar opens up the set, and soon a heavy beat resounds through the pub, almost shaking the cider glasses in our hands. Not long after, we’ve drifted away into a light acoustic sound; for me, this is Flaws Above at their best: flirting with the boundary between loud rock and slower melodies, showcasing the unlimited variety of a band who have firmly rejected getting stuck in a groove.

Later on, their range is displayed yet again with grungy tune ‘Rosie’, with the emotional shouting, which then softens to a steady drum beat, which then builds up beautifully, layer-on-layer, to raucous noise yet again. Flaws Above are rocking the Old Firehouse to its very core.

By their second original, ‘Stars Tonight’, the audience are completely caught up in the music, dancing along to the echoing, poetic lyrics (“words make fools of all of us” always sticks in my head after a gig). And when we get to the cover of ‘Bulletproof’, sections of the crowd start singing along too; although Helen’s light harmonies are already nicely complementing Ellie’s passionate vocals. The two singers look like twins in the mellow amber light, especially with the festival wristbands decorating their wrists, and it’s always nice to see a band laughing to each other between songs: a gentle reminder that live music is a special experience.

Flaws Above are a campus band to be reckoned with

Sometimes, the lyrics have a tendency to get slightly lost in the sound, but that’s often understandable: ‘Cold Coffee’ was being roadtested for the first time at the Old Firehouse, but despite the promising title, I struggle to hear the words.

The cover of MGMT’s ‘Kids’, however, goes down especially well with the audience, and for good reason; Flaws Above pick up this classic – in my opinion, fairly stale – tune, and reinvigorate it: stunning drums from Matt open the proceedings, and James’ creativity on guitar takes it to the next level.

The set closes with two of the band’s recent additions. ’Landslide’ is a fast-paced number with more of those signature slow, lyrical moments (“In the morning we might regret / the way the night went, we can’t forget”) and which had the whole audience moving — appropriately enough, considering the song’s name.

The infamous “jolly little ditty”, ‘Cracks Developing’, closed proceedings, showing just how heavy their sound can go; although it’s a bit too shouty and American for my tastes, the moment when the chorus drops is to die for, proving once again that Flaws Above are a campus band to be reckoned with.

A Capella sensations Bluebelles are the last act on stage. This group of ten bring a touch of class to the proceedings from the very beginning, as a tide of blue shirts flows into the room. Mika’s ‘Lollipop’ is a solid opener, and the layering of tones proves the professional nature of this group; the beatboxing in particular is a welcome addition to the traditional cutesy 50s swing.

The “rogue cover” of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ really kickstarts the set, with the single soloist emphasising the words in a way that’s almost lost in the original. There’s an odd clash between the positive tone and the dark lyrics, too, which makes it slightly disturbing: weirdly, it reminds me of how the Pinocchio theme was distorted for the Avengers: Age of Ultron trailer. It’s undeniably beautiful too, although it’s crying out for a moment of pure climax to really spice things up.

The set also features a number of silky-smooth A Capella classics like ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, ‘Mr Sandman’ and ‘It’s Not Unusual’: every single member of the group knows their part to perfection, and the choral notes have soon spread out to fill the homely cathedral of Old Firehouse. For me, I’d prefer more creativity – perhaps even an inversion of the traditional songs – especially considering the clear talent on display: the beatboxing, although used sparingly, consistently took the songs to the next level. I’d be the first to admit that this music isn’t the usual soundtrack to my life, but I’m still loving it.

These echoing, floating lyrics are the main reason i feLl contentedly to sleep as soon as i got home

As another new lead singer steps up (solo talent grows abundantly amongst the Bluebelles), and Beyoncé’s ‘Love on Top’ sways onto the stage, the crowd’s excitement peaks, especially when an elevated pace kicks in partway through. In the words of a drunk guy behind me: “it’s fucking sick”.

As midnight rears its ugly head, the fairy tale starts to draw to a close. But cries of “encore” come up from the crowd, and Paul McCartney’s ‘Blackbird’ is the obvious choice. Our soloist’s passionate vocals float round the room, and the gear-change at “into the light” is handled with perfect poise.

Maybe it was the busy night, or the hectic week, but I like to think these echoing, floating lyrics are the main reason I fell contentedly to sleep as soon as I got home. Or maybe it was just the cider.

Just Joshin’ – An Interview with Josh Widdicombe

Nestled on the hillside of a lush valley in Dartmoor is a predictably-picturesque Devon village called Widecombe-in-the-Moor. It was from this landscape that the (aptly-named) stand-up comedian Josh Widdicombe emerged, albeit from the tiny hamlet of Haytor Vale, just down the road. With hair like the curls of the local White-Face Dartmoor sheep, the 33-year-old comedian is instantly recognisable on our screens, but he seems to have combined his past (a light Devon accent) and his present (the non-stop life of London) comfortably in recent years.

I ask for his thoughts on growing up in this isolated corner of rural Devon. “It felt normal to me, but then you move away and you realise it was a bit weird.” But Widdicombe plans to make the most of this intriguing upbringing, bringing the stories into his new stand-up tour, What Do I Do Now. As he tells me more about his youth, I realise how well-suited his observational style of comedy will be to the landscape of his past. “I had four people in my year at school, and lived in a village with just a Post Office and nothing more. It was like growing up in Postman Pat — although I never got any mail.”

The comparisons to everyone’s favourite postie are, I suppose, actually quite appropriate. In the recent blockbuster film, Postman Pat enters a talent show, and quickly sees himself whisked away from the narrow country lanes of Greendale to find stardom in the capital. Oddly enough, Widdicombe has seen a similar rise to success since his early performances in 2008, and now lives in London. “I’m never leaving,” he joked on the radio a few weeks ago, and I can’t help but think he’s serious: he’s clearly suited to the fast-paced life of the big city.

Nowadays, Widdicombe is a regular face on the vast array of talk shows and panel games that bless our TV screens. From The Last Leg to Mock the Week, QI to Would I Lie to You?, he’s probably done them all. But he still sees his work on the stand-up circuit as his “proper job”, and it’s clear to see why when he’s back on stage, clasping the mic against his chest in his trademark fashion: like a comforting pint of ale.

Every routine covers a vast array of society’s flaw

Widdicombe has been skilfully riding the wave of observational comedy’s popularity to new heights. It’s reminiscent of Michael McIntyre, but less simplistic, with each concept taken to its exaggerated conclusion until his voice reaches that trademark high-pitched peak. Every routine covers a vast array of society’s flaws, from contactless payments (using what he calls “touchy-downy debit cards”) to receiving homemade jam as a gift (“the worst thing is, it always comes in a jar that used to contain proper jam”).

This style quickly found traction on his first tour at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2010, and it hasn’t changed much over the years (if it ain’t broke…). Does Widdicombe miss his time performing in the capital of comedy? “I miss spending a month getting drunk with all my friends,” he admits, “although I think my liver is happier these days.” It’s definitely an apt sentiment for Freshers’ Week, and Widdicombe confesses that “being a comedian is probably my way of keeping the student lifestyle, though somehow I work more hours than a normal job. Stick to being a student as long as you can, guys.” This is advice I plan to stick to.

Widdicombe has been skilfully riding the wave of observational comedy’s popularity to new heights.

The idea of Widdicombe having “a normal job” is probably hard to imagine, but his life nearly went in a completely different direction: he started out working for Dora the Explorer magazine. Even his university days studying Linguistics at the University of Manchester didn’t exactly suggest a future as a comedian. Nonetheless, he’s effusive in his appreciation of Manchester: “loved it – I think it is a great city to go to uni in (though Exeter is obviously also great)”.

“Stick to being a student as long as you can, guys.”

In an ideal world, though, he’d have probably been there twenty years earlier: Widdicombe originally chose the city thanks to his love of Manchester icons, the Smiths. Music is clearly an important part of his life; he used to present a radio show for indie station Xfm, and he won Celebrity Mastermind in 2013 with a chosen subject of Blur. When I point out that driving around on tour must be a pain, he’s happy to contradict me. “It’s great, you get to sit and listen to Spotify for hours and not feel guilty about it.”

So I offer a twist on the classic desert-island scenario, asking what song he’d choose to have permanently playing in his car. “I think that would slowly send me mad… so it would have to be something I could block out, maybe something off Brian Eno’s Music for Airports. That or ‘Mr Loverman’ by Shabba Ranks.” Both these references go straight over my head.

Sport is another key passion of his. He’s one of the co-hosts of Channel 4’s The Last Leg, which started life at the Paralympics in 2012 and has been a runaway success: thanks largely to the electric chemistry between Widdicombe, Adam Hills and Alex Brooker. With Top Gear arguably dead-and-buried, they might even be the strongest presenting trio on TV at the moment — although they’re a lot less controversial.

Rio 2016 is a special anniversary for the show, and although the Olympics are now over, Widdicombe is clearly looking forward to The Last Leg’s Paralympic special. I asked him which events he was looking forward to watching, and he responds jovially: “I didn’t get to go into the athletics stadium in London as I was so busy, so that is my one aim this time. That, and avoiding the Zika virus.”

“The Imperial in Exeter is definitely the best Weatherspoons [sic] in the world”

When Widdicombe isn’t jet-setting off to international sporting events, he’s busy touring the country. On the last leg of his tour, he tweeted that “The Imperial in Exeter is definitely the best Weatherspoons [sic] in the world” (quite right, too). So is he a fan of the city? “I went to sixth form in Exeter, so I associate it with the personal trauma and excitement of being a late teenager. I killed a lot of time there, some of that in The Imperial, and the rest of it in record shops. Maybe that is why I had to fall back on comedy.”

The British public is certainly lucky Widdicombe chose comedy in the end. Now a household name, as confirmed by his status as the headline act for Live at the Apollo’s Christmas special, the BBC recently took a gamble on his debut sitcom, Josh, based on his life four or five years ago. The plot revolves around the constant blunders and gaffes of Josh and his flatmates, as they live out their twenties in London. The sitcom was recently renewed for a second series, and Josh hints that things won’t really be looking up for the trio: “far funnier that way, no one wants to see someone be happy!” Widdicombe and the team clearly have a knack for pulling in impressive celebrity cameos, having instigated the return of The Chuckle Brothers to British screens, so I ask Widdicombe if he could reveal any new faces. Sadly, he keeps his cards close to his chest: “Jennifer Saunders is back, and there are others I can’t tell you about, but they made me very excited.”

From his humble roots in Devon to headlining Latitude Festival’s comedy bill, Josh Widdicombe — still aged just 33 — has seen his career go from strength to strength. The logical next step is filling up Wembley Arena, but I get the impression he’d be just as happy going there with his mates to watch England play (until they lose, of course).

Finally, I ask him how he introduces himself these days. “I always say I am a stand-up comedian when people ask… Wish I was still a student, though.”

Review: Bristol Comedy Garden

Cast your minds back to the week following the EU Referendum result. It was a turbulent one, to say the least. Crashes and resignations, speeches and revelations: everything that could have happened seemed to happen.

So it’s fair to say that my trip to Bristol Comedy Garden on Tuesday 28 June came as a blessed relief; finally, I could leave behind the dramatic rolling news and the incessant live-feeds, in exchange for a night of laid-back entertainment.

It’s sometimes easy to forget that Bristol is just an hour-long train journey away. Bristol, it’s important to remember, is basically Exeter’s cool older brother: the epitome of a chilled guy, permanently clad in wavey garms, and smoking in a way that makes you completely forget the health risks. In other words: both Exeter and Bristol voted Remain, but only Bristol’s decision made the national news.

Bristol Comedy Garden is a great example of a large comedy event that Exeter can only dream of: the lively mini-festival takes over Bristol’s gorgeous Queen Square, and runs for six days. Although I’d love to see some of these big names like Milton Jones, Katherine Ryan and Sara Pascoe, or an up-and-coming star like Joe Lycett, I decide instead to embrace Bristol’s edginess and look for a suitable alternative to these mainstream comedians.

My first impressions are of an Arcadian safe haven from the mad politics of the outside world

It’s for this reason that I’m here on the Tuesday night, ready to see the refreshingly quirky bill of Josie Long, James Acaster, Tony Law and Stewart Lee.

My first impressions are of an Arcadian safe haven from the mad politics of the outside world: the main tent is a huge colourful contraption, and the stage is tastefully decorated with a few artistically-lit tree cutouts. Unfortunately, this utopia is quickly put in check by Josie Long’s opening lines, as she cheerfully introduces Bristol as “a part of Greater Remainia”. Naturally, these comedians can’t resist such tasty material as the Brexit vote.

The 34-year-old offers a friendly start to the proceedings, with jokes about her disappearing youth and the infuriating number of relatives asking her when she’ll be getting married. To my taste, her jokes are often a bit too angry and overtly political, although she does sometimes walk the tightrope between politics and humour perfectly: a great example being her belief that when women take on their husband’s names it “feels like the man has eaten them”.

Soon, James Acaster is welcomed onto the stage, and the young master of deadpan comedy — now a frequent face on Mock the Week — launches straight into his beautifully random humour. After just a few minutes, his voice has reached its squeaky peaks at the outrageous realisation that so many young Brits are going to Kenya to build wells for the local people that they have far more wells than we do, and I’m already crying with laughter. This inversion of logic is as polished as Josh Widdicombe’s, but it also offers a dash of the unexpected: a characteristic which is shown later in his segment on sulking: “you’ve got to maintain your A-game if you’re having a sulk while meringue-making”. Acaster says he’s worried he’s too wacky, but that’s definitely part of his charm.

The highlight of his set is a piece on British imperialism, and our history of thievery. He describes the Elgin Marbles in simple, humorous terms: we stole someone’s stuff, put it in a museum, refused to give it back, and then we had the nerve to invite the original owners to come and look at their own belongings, stuck in display cabinets, nicely lit up. He then segues into one of his trademark grand statements: “I don’t care who hears it: museum gift shop rubbers are the worst rubbers on the market”.

Compère Josie Long returns to the stage with new energy, talking about her new exercise regime at the boxing gym (“I’ve never had upper body strength before — it’s so easy to push yourself out of the bath”). But her Nigel Farage jokes, presumably ad-lib, seem quite stale, as there isn’t much comedy gold left to squeeze out of UKIP. This political mood continues later on when — now confident in her liberal Stewart Lee crowd — she starts shouting “fuck Boris Johnson”, to massive applause. Personally, I’m here for comedy, so it does nothing for me.

I’ve never heard of Tony Law, but a quick Google in the interval describes his style as “surrealist comedy”.And it really is surreal. Onto the stage walks a man in a pilot suit, with a rabbit toy taped to his leg, and a comb in his top pocket. He flits around pieces on orcas, the Pompidou Centre and trampolines, but there seems to be no structure to the randomness, and I’m left holding on for dear life. Everyone around me seems to be pissing themselves with laughter, but I feel like I’m reading The Waste Land upside-down in Japanese. “I ate ice cream alone in my car with a comb the other day”, Law says, and I think that sums him up. He sometimes trades in his natural Canadian intonation for what I can only assume is meant to be a Yorkshire accent, and I can’t figure out why; and when his delivery goes particularly wobbly, I start to wonder if he’s drunk. There’s no particular highlight for me, but I suppose his aeroplane impressions are quite impressive.

I feel like I’m reading The Waste Land upside-down in Japanese

When Stewart Lee finally arrives on stage, the audience can hardly contain their excitement. Ironically, Lee’s sardonic wit means he probably loathes the idea of having ‘fans’, but they’ve turned up in their droves nonetheless. He hits the ground running with a diatribe against mobile phones, colourfully threatening to destroy any he sees in the audience. He later returns to the subject in a segment on the youth of today, deploying his trademark sneering accent to mock disgruntled voters who can at least comfort themselves by saying “never mind, I’ve got this phone….” before unleashing his creative microphone skills — reminiscent of his artful gravestone chiselling on the 41st Best Stand Up Ever tour — to mimic the robotic button-pushing of a young person texting. When he patronisingly adds a ‘sucky yoghurt’ to the picture, I’m in stitches; even though he’s technically criticising my age group, it only makes me enjoy it all-the-more. Like the others, Lee covers political topics too, but he seems at his best when subtly concealing these themes in other segments, such as one on the market price of his stand-up DVDs.

Admittedly, it would probably take a newcomer some time to get used to Lee’s unique approach. He frequently insults mainstream comedians, and although it sometimes seems pretentious, that’s primarily just a stage persona. By rejecting simplistic and relatable observational humour, Lee instead manages to make comedy a true art form at times: full of teasing build-ups, and scintillating meta-humour. It might not wash pleasantly over the audience like your average Michael McIntyre show, but some would say it’s far more meaty.

Soon, it’s all over, and my late-night train to Exeter awaits. In the words of Lee himself, at times Bristol Comedy Garden became so political it felt “like a rally”, but amongst the pro-Remain hysteria lay some absolutely sublime alternative comedy. Headliner Stewart Lee was, as expected, a huge hit with his crowd of adoring fans, but for me James Acaster was the runaway success.

So next time you’re looking for some entertainment, remember to check out Bristol’s offerings, and make sure to keep an eye out for next year’s Comedy Garden!

And every so often, Exeter’s treated to comedy talent too – it turns out James Acaster is visiting in November:

https://www.exeterphoenix.org.uk/events/james-acaster/

EP Review: Pleasure House – Show Your Colours

Pleasure House - Show Your Colours EP — Pleasure House – Show Your Colours

For such a massive city, the number of famous bands that hail from Birmingham is, arguably, disproportionately small. Four-piece indie rock band Pleasure House intend to change this sorry state of affairs, and — although they’ve only been together for a year or two — they’re already turning heads.

Their latest EP, Show Your Colours, shows their progression from indie pop to a new, “roadworn” sound, and this is clear in the opening track, ‘Cyan’. It starts with a light, tropical beat (reminding me of one of the more relaxing alarm options on my phone) but soon these electric water-drops are scattered by a confident guitar revving into action, and a storm of drums. The new era has arrived.

The lyrics tell the story of someone stealing a part of the band’s music, and there are some truly beautiful lines. “Your blue eyes / look oh so green” is a nice twist on tired clichés, and “are you patiently waiting to take this from me” may seem unadorned — slightly mundane, even — but frontman Alex’s rhythm and delivery is spot on, and the song quickly opens up into the choppy guitar and atmospheric vocals of the chorus. It’s a really nicely-constructed track, too, fading off three-quarters of the way through, before a slow, echoing harmony builds into the strong guitar we’ve already come to recognise and love.

The new era has arrived

In many ways, listening to ‘Cyan’ feels like a mate is telling me about this dickhead who they work with, but at the same time the floating vocals and catchy beat also give it a surprising summery vibe. Looking back at their older music, Pleasure House have clearly matured to a more organic and heavy sound over the past year, and are proud to point out they’re “not poppy any more” in a recent interview, but there’s still an optimistic indie feel which seems destined for post-exam relaxation in the Devon sun.

Track two, ‘Wasted On Me’, breaks out with a traditional sprint on guitar, but soon quietens to show its colours as a song which primarily wants to focus on Alex’s brilliant vocals. Although he doesn’t boast a pronounced Brummie accent, his voice still has a homely feel which is complemented by the domestic setting (“we can maybe sit around, get stoned and stare at the TV”). But the lyrics are arguably a bit repetitive: a spell which is only broken by the beautifully-balanced poetry of lines like “we’re not getting any younger, I don’t want to wander carelessly”, delivered during one of the quieter laid-back of the song. The simplistic lyrics don’t stop me loving the tune, either, and after hearing the track just a few times, I’m soon singing (shouting) the euphoric, fast-paced chorus as I walk around the house.

Recently, I’ve been sizing up bands in relation to The Kooks (who have had a little renaissance on my Spotify) and the third track ‘Why’d You Have To Go?’ definitely compares favourably, featuring emphasised, bouncy syllables that trip delightfully off the tongue. It’s a song about regret, and getting kicked out of a club, but it’s humorous and upbeat too, with lines like “last night, way too gone / I didn’t even know what I did wrong” surely striking a chord with students everywhere.

there’s an optimistic indie feel which seems destined for post-exam relaxation in the Devon sun

They put distortion and other effects to good use too: there’s a section towards the end where the sound is ‘bottled’, presumably to represent the noise of the music once they’re kicked out of the club, and it’s small touches like this which make it a captivating song. The powerful bursts of guitar after each word in the chorus give a similarly pleasing structure to the lyrics, as if this is a laid-back musical question-and-answer session.

‘M.O.B’ stands for “man over board” — something you realise as soon as it’s shouted emphatically for the first time — and it’s marginally the weakest track on the EP, suffering from a lack of lyrical variety, and falling into the same cycle of verses far too often. That said, it’s still enjoyable, especially the appetising bass underneath it all. The end is creative, too, as the band confidently take their singing down to harmonious ‘la la la’s, which eventually fire back up into a deliciously distorted conclusion.

‘One-to-watch’ is probably an understatement: I expect great things from this band. Pleasure House reminds me of a slightly heavier Catfish and the Bottlemen, and if their recent success is anything to go by, it’s surely a good sign for the boys from Brum.

Show Your Colours EP – out on April 8.