A Day in the Life, in my case, begins at City Cafe, where we squeeze as many buskers as possible into a booth for breakfast (or just espresso, if you're Tommy Brando), and I do my hair and makeup downstairs in the bathroom, having rushed out of the house for the draw.
A little history:
The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the largest arts festival in the world, with over 3,000 acts from around the world. It began in 1947, when, according to the official website, "...eight theatre groups turned up uninvited to perform at the (then newly formed) Edinburgh International Festival, an initiative created to celebrate and enrich European cultural life in the wake of the Second World War."
And so the city is packed: every bar turns into a venue, filling basements and attics with fold-out chairs. The Royal Mile is a zoo as performers flyer for their shows, a necessary task given the magnitude of the show catalog. Every night at 22:30 (21:00 and midnight on Saturdays), fireworks erupt from the castle as the grand finale of the Military Tattoo spectacle.
My job, in addition to ooh-ing at the fireworks, keeping the Scottish breakfast industry alive, and seeing shows like everyone else, is to entertain people on the Royal Mile by performing.
Here's how it works: You register to be either a [walk-by] "busker" or a [circle-show] "street performer." Each category has its own draw. Statues, balloon artists, caricaturists, etc. have a different system. You additionally register to be part-time or full-time. Part-timers get a handful of slots pre-assigned throughout the festival. Full-timers attend the draw every morning at 10:00. We drop our passes into a tote bag, sometimes sprinting the last hundred yards as the church bells chime, and await our names to be pulled to choose the day's slots.
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| Actually, it does give us super powers. |
Here's the group picture, although it's missing a lot of awesome performers:
The street is staffed by stewards wearing red t-shirts, red hoodies, or, most frequently this year, red raincoats. They hold a big board in the morning with sign-up sheets where we sign up for half-hour slots at six busking pitches on the Mile and the Mound with their own distinct set of regulations regarding amplification. Throughout the day, the stewards regulate volume, keep track of time, and get rid of unruly flyerers. The Street Events staff also provides three big storage containers that are securely locked overnight. These things are what make busking at the festival luxurious: not having to fight for spots, having someone to deal with confrontations for us, and not having to haul gear around.
But I'll be honest: busking at the Fringe is hard. Here's why:
1. The street is loud. Between show promoters, passersby, and fellow performers who are much closer than they'd be ordinarily, it can be hard to be heard. I was feeling it in my aching biceps as I tried to pump my accordion as loudly as I could.
2. Not everyone realizes we're performing. The street is mobbed with people in costumes--nuns, construction workers, Hitler--doing whatever it takes to draw attention to their shows, often including singing and dancing. So some passersby think we're merely promoting shows so they don't tip. I really think they ought to mark the pitches to make them look like performance spaces.
3. There's competition. I mean that people spend a lot of money here on shows, so you have to do something to stand out; really impress people to earn tips.
4. Flyerers. Some flyerers promote their shows quietly and respectfully. Others make life extremely difficult for buskers. Seriously, groups stage entire musical numbers right in front of a busking pitch. They play musical instruments, sing, dance, or theatrically drop dead. I had repeated trouble with a group of French acrobats who would put on a show in front of me, rendering me playing to the back of people's heads. Most flyerers ignore requests from buskers to stop, well from me at least. Stewards with clipboards and walkie-talkies are successful shutting them down, but in the case of the acrobats, they take their sweet time ending their promo. I've lost half a slot due to loud, disrespectful flyerers. A fellow busker and friend Pockets, drummer for "Affordable Chocolate" and "Jen and the Gents" had the great idea of arming himself with a water gun for such incidents. However, one day, he unsuccessfully asked a stubborn flyerer to stop, let loose with the water gun, and got punched in the face. This should indicate the tensions on the Mile sometimes.
5. Weather. This August was particularly cold and rainy. It rarely got past 65 degrees (18 celsius), and it rained at least once pretty much every day. So I missed a lot of slots.
But...finally, the last week, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to play anyway. I remembered that I successfully bungeed an umbrella to my body last summer, so I did it again, but with my new piano umbrella. This looked pretty awesome, which of course caused more people to take photos without tipping. And soaked my signs, set list, cardboard puppet accessory box, etc. Probably not worth it, but the acoustics were great under the umbrella! Here's the soggy set list and umbrella action:
And here's Geordie rescuing Adam:
So I wasn't making loads of money, especially during my slots. Many of us tended to do better in other parts in town, and I returned to my old farmer's market gigs, which were much more lucrative. I'm leaving with a profit, albeit small, which I'm planning to blow on a trip to the Highlands this week. This is okay; I'm here for the experience. I'm here to meet new friends and reunite with old ones, be in an amazing city, and soak up inspiration from all the creative minds.
The best part of the Fringe by far, for me, is the people. It really feels like summer camp for performers. We all rendezvous every morning for the draw, then often go out for breakfast after. There are inside jokes and pranks. Lots of laughter, and ample hugs. We hang around all day on the hang-out steps and just chat (and complain about the rain). We go for drinks at the end of the day, and sometimes see a show. Here's Matthew eating anchovies with a stalk of celery on the hang-out steps:
My Personal Experience
My Fringe wasn't perfect this year. There were some days I "did it right," and others I didn't. I wish I had seen more shows, and done more with my own show.
The main mistake was that my act was and is not ready for a festival like this yet. I planned to use last November and December making my act really good for the Fringe. But I didn't. I planned to use last April and May making my act really good for the Fringe. I did make my new outfit and prepare a new marionette, but there was so much more I could have done. Finally, I planned to use all my free time in the Czech Republic in June and July writing a show and practicing it, so I'd have a killer act when I got here. But I didn't. My act evolved a bit during the festival, but not to where I want it to be.
I did attract crowds. I'll give us that: blondes in matching piano dresses, one twelve inches tall, can draw a crowd. But I don't have a show to hold their attention; I just have songs. Sylvie is adorable, but she only has two movements. Once she does them, that's it. I did some little changes, like dramatically looking at her when she hits the bell, to make it more interesting, and reducing the percentage of each song in which she dances to keep it special.
Through my own ideas and suggestions from others, I now have a plethora of new features to implement. I'll say this again: I now plan to use September in Edinburgh to get my act where I want it to be.
The main new addition during the Fringe is the platform. Because there's so much foot traffic, passersby can't see the puppet theater if there are already people stopped. So I bought two fold-up stools, scored some scrap plywood at a theater, cut it to size using Edgar the Musical Saw Player's saws, and covered the whole setup with black fabric. It really looks much better now, although the extra setup is time-consuming and my laden trolley is cumbersome. Here's the new setup, during a rare bit of sunshine:
I also started talking to my crowds, which really made a difference. My revenue almost doubled the second half of the festival when I began addressing crowds. My goal was just to convey the message that I was playing for tips, since apparently it's not always clear. At its shortest, if I chickened out, my speech was "Hi folks, I'm Sophie and this is Sylvie and we hope you like our show." At its most convincing: "Hi folks, my name is Sophie and this is Sylvie. This is what I do for a living and this is my creation; it's one of a kind. I appreciate any contributions if you like the show." And at its "funniest:" "Sylvie and I met at the Fringe last year. She asked if she could join my act, so I'd told her I'd see if I could pull some strings." Eh? Eh? Ahh, puppet humor.
One day in the Grassmarket a man jokingly remarked to a child, "The puppet dances and that causes the lady to play the accordion." Love it! So I worked that into my banter too. During the last week, I started remembering some of the stuff I used to say to crowds last time. Like asking a very small child if they prefer the Rolling Stones or Queen. Anyway, stay tuned for a whole new Sophie and Sylvie show full of banter, jokes, and complicated puppet movement.
So, friends, here are my "rules for next year." I'd call them "tips," but not everyone has the same goals. Some of these I did well this year, others I did not:
Tips for a Successful Fringe if You're Kinda Like Me:
1. Come prepared. With a solid, interesting act. Do something to stand out, and have it ready in time. It can be hard to find time to develop anything other than a beer-belly once the Fringe has begun.
2. Do your best show. Simple as that. There's so little time to convince people to stay and watch and tip.
3. See good shows. This year, I saw a lot of bad free comedy at the last minute. Next time, I will research shows, seek recommendations, take advantage of half-price tickets and preview dates, and spend money on good, reputable shows rather than winging it and ended up at crappy shows.
4. Meet venue performers. There are simply so many performers here in venue shows, and I met some fun ones at the very end. I wish that I had made the effort to meet performers, either through seeing their shows and talking to them after, or just at Fringe Central, and reaped the benefits in the form of having more friends in cool places, performance connections, and discounts on show tickets!
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| No, this doesn't count, since we didn't become BFFs. |
5. Pack food. Busker breakfast is a magical thing, and it's important for social aspects. However, any other food I purchase throughout the day is just to satisfy hunger. A busker who packs food saves more money.
6. Utilize Fringe Central. Although it's not really central, the Fringe participant headquarters is awesome. There are sofas and beanbags (yep, I took naps), chairs and tables, a cafe, computers, printers, bathrooms, and office supplies. I did a lot of work on my act--big things like velcroing plywood and small things like restringing my puppet--when it was just too cold and windy to work outside. So I'd set up shop in Fringe Central for a while.
7. Busk a lot! "Guerilla busking," "fly-pitching," "top-secret spy stuff"...whatever you call playing outside of your slots, go do it. There are so many extra people on the street during August, and it's a great time to make extra money.
8. Befriend the buskers. This year, I flocked to the buskers I met last time I was here, and didn't start talking to unfamiliar people until far too long. Once I did I expanded my busker friend group which was great, but there were still so many that I didn't talk to very much. I could have contacts in so many more places if I had made more of an effort. Course, we can only fit so many at one booth for breakfast. Due to the draw, my competitive and territorial tendencies are gone, so there's no excuse to not all be friends. It's great to have people with whom to go to shows, share a drink, walk home, etc.
....and a Day in the Life ends in City Cafe, exhausted, in the bathroom, where I observe how smudged my makeup has gotten over the course of the day.
I'm sure I'll be back someday, maybe not next year, but before too long. Those of you reading this: add "Go to Edinburgh Fringe" to your bucket list!
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| Day-After burritos with some favorites |
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