Review: Scoundrels Comedy Club Gala
Published: Friday 26th October 2012
A semi-celeb husband-and-wife serenade, swiftly followed by an onstage mini-meltdown, and we aren't even at the interval: this is my kind of gala. Scoundrels, the popular Winchester-founded club, makes its London debut with a special musical bill, kicked off by an act I hadn't actually realised did guitar-based stuff.
Justin Edwards is probably best known nowadays for his roles in mighty TV behemoths like The Thick Of It but he's a versatile stand-up, from his drunken children's entertainer Jeremy Lion to tonight's turn as a stool-based troubadour. Brave, too, as the set begins with a lengthy folk song utterly devoid of jokes until the big final reveal. It's worth the wait.
Generally faux-earnest, Edwards breaks up the longer songs with some splendidly silly Rob Deering-like guitar-based gags, and finishes with the aforementioned serenade. For this he brings out tonight's compère, Lucy Porter, who also happens to be his wife. "We're a Krankies tribute act," says the diminutive host, after her gigantic other-half has left the stage to rapturous applause.
It's a tough act to follow, and Gareth Richards makes particularly hard work of it. The Bournemouth-based comic's songsmithery can be wonderfully amusing, but when he strays too far from his trademark omnichord things can go a little awry.
Richards is actually testing out a whole new device procured from Suzuki tonight, but given that this is a music-themed event he spends far too long trying to fraternise with the audience beforehand, with increasingly diminishing returns. He's oddly and apologetically fumbling and forgetful, which doesn't improve when he finishes off with an uninspired song which goes completely wrong halfway through and never really recovers. A show to forget - or perhaps learn from.
Rob Carter (pictured) fares better after the interval, the 2012 Musical Comedy Awards winner actually doing lots of musical comedy at this musical comedy night: simple, really. The act is largely based on exploiting his fresh-faced flaxen-haired good looks, confounding expectations as he spouts some deeply non-angelic gangster rap and murder ballads, the latter often involving minors. It occasionally strays a little too close to the Conchords' untouchable canon, but he throws in enough unexpected oddities to keep things fresh.
Swiftly following Carter's channelling of Dr Dre, the effortlessly charismatic Doc Brown does pretty much the opposite. The rapper-turned-comic begins by utilising booming beats and his battle-honed skills to flag up from the outset how not-gangsta he is, his hard-knock life involving the feeding of ducks and the cooking of fish fingers.
Brown is a consummate, energetic performer when in rap mode but what's striking in this comfy-seated, not-very-edgy setting is the confident tone of his between-rhymes chat. For a relative newcomer to the stand-up stage his timing and poise are hugely impressive, and he keeps this sometimes feisty (i.e. completely pissed, in patches) audience enthralled even when just strolling around, not really saying a great deal. He seems to be finding this comedy lark ludicrously easy.
A mixed bag, then. The more memorable comedy nights - the ones that crop up in conversation for years afterwards - are always a hit-and-miss combo of the mad, bad and brilliant, and Scoundrels' first London bash is a winning melange of all three. A welcome addition to the capital's listings pages.
Help us publish more great content by becoming a BCG Supporter. You'll be backing our mission to champion, celebrate and promote British comedy in all its forms: past, present and future.
We understand times are tough, but if you believe in the power of laughter we'd be honoured to have you join us. Advertising doesn't cover our costs, so every single donation matters and is put to good use. Thank you.
Love comedy? Find out more