Pleasance Sessions 2013
A long time ago in a Pleasance Theatre far, far away...
(originally published by The Student)
Strap in, kids- we're going to the moon. Bored of the Earth's predictable rhymes and ready-made raps, Abandoman are taking their show into strange new worlds of improvised comedic genius. Moonrock Boombox packed out the purple cow during the Fringe, and now returns to Edinburgh for a single night of stratospheric comedy gold.
It's a wonder frontman Rob Broderick doesn't need an oxygen mask as he touches down onstage in the Pleasance Theatre. Immediately he climbs out into the crowd, riffing constantly off the audience's quirks, picking out choice members of the crowd to play the central roles in the narrative that unfolds. We quickly choose a King of the Moon, an evil rival set on knocking him off his interstellar throne, and a crack team of programmers, HR assistants and English Literature students to help power our spaceship and take back what's ours.
During songs we're undecided whether to howl with laughter or just stare in dumb awe as Broderick creates a new rap every night incorporating the names, occupations and sometimes wildly un-rhymable suggestions of the audience. In between, jokes come thick and fast and Broderick's breathless style would warm even the coldest depths of a black hole, not only showcasing the wonderful talents of himself and his band, but bringing us into a story of our own creation, the ultimate roadtrip-celebration-battle-of-all-time tale that brings us together and lifts us upwards.
There is something distinctly alien in the uncanny way Broderick's band cluster around his words. With only guitar and keys they capture our attention utterly, and a few words are rapped out in unison despite the fact that they are completely improvised- a feat only possible by a band so tight and well-rehearsed they could rival the Millenium Falcon for speed and its pilot for wit. Better still, our two bearded musicians are constantly in on the act- not content to just sit back and wait for their cues, the pair never keep a straight face, either laughing at Broderick's jokes or providing twisted reactions to enhance the comedy even further.
In a genre where everything could go so horribly wrong- and almost does, a few times- Abandoman lets us breathe an atmosphere a little richer than usual. Constantly asking for suggestions, Broderick is always hilarious but never mean; managing to point out one punter's differences to the rest of us without putting them down, and never alienating. During the show, we are a crew, a team, part of the band and the source of the story, and this is perhaps what makes the band and the experience shine so brightly. Any pitfalls are all part of a narrative at once epic (we are fighting for our lives on the moon, after all) and intensely human. We take a break in our fight for survivial to sing a drinking song; we hear the imagined back-story of a failed romance between Broderick and one baffled crew member. When a selected audience member's imagination is a little lacking, Broderick always has an extra punchline hidden up a sleeve to bring the energy back up, and each half-mumbled word and name is stored faultlessly away in what must be the biggest mental rhyming dictionary in the galaxy.
Five years since their emergence, it's likely Abandoman are not the only improvised comedy hip-hop trio out there, but if there's a better one out there, we haven't heard of them in our spaceship out in lunar orbit. The band are set to land in the Royal Albert Hall at the start of next month, which, if tonight was anything to go by, should be absolutely out-of-this-world. Aside from that, any Close Encounters will have to be back in their native Ireland. Tonight's Pleasance Session was worth all the moondust in the sky and the ticket price on top; a sparse stage lined with starlight that could only highlight the blinding wonder of Abandoman's Moonrock Boombox.
It's a wonder frontman Rob Broderick doesn't need an oxygen mask as he touches down onstage in the Pleasance Theatre. Immediately he climbs out into the crowd, riffing constantly off the audience's quirks, picking out choice members of the crowd to play the central roles in the narrative that unfolds. We quickly choose a King of the Moon, an evil rival set on knocking him off his interstellar throne, and a crack team of programmers, HR assistants and English Literature students to help power our spaceship and take back what's ours.
During songs we're undecided whether to howl with laughter or just stare in dumb awe as Broderick creates a new rap every night incorporating the names, occupations and sometimes wildly un-rhymable suggestions of the audience. In between, jokes come thick and fast and Broderick's breathless style would warm even the coldest depths of a black hole, not only showcasing the wonderful talents of himself and his band, but bringing us into a story of our own creation, the ultimate roadtrip-celebration-battle-of-all-time tale that brings us together and lifts us upwards.
There is something distinctly alien in the uncanny way Broderick's band cluster around his words. With only guitar and keys they capture our attention utterly, and a few words are rapped out in unison despite the fact that they are completely improvised- a feat only possible by a band so tight and well-rehearsed they could rival the Millenium Falcon for speed and its pilot for wit. Better still, our two bearded musicians are constantly in on the act- not content to just sit back and wait for their cues, the pair never keep a straight face, either laughing at Broderick's jokes or providing twisted reactions to enhance the comedy even further.
In a genre where everything could go so horribly wrong- and almost does, a few times- Abandoman lets us breathe an atmosphere a little richer than usual. Constantly asking for suggestions, Broderick is always hilarious but never mean; managing to point out one punter's differences to the rest of us without putting them down, and never alienating. During the show, we are a crew, a team, part of the band and the source of the story, and this is perhaps what makes the band and the experience shine so brightly. Any pitfalls are all part of a narrative at once epic (we are fighting for our lives on the moon, after all) and intensely human. We take a break in our fight for survivial to sing a drinking song; we hear the imagined back-story of a failed romance between Broderick and one baffled crew member. When a selected audience member's imagination is a little lacking, Broderick always has an extra punchline hidden up a sleeve to bring the energy back up, and each half-mumbled word and name is stored faultlessly away in what must be the biggest mental rhyming dictionary in the galaxy.
Five years since their emergence, it's likely Abandoman are not the only improvised comedy hip-hop trio out there, but if there's a better one out there, we haven't heard of them in our spaceship out in lunar orbit. The band are set to land in the Royal Albert Hall at the start of next month, which, if tonight was anything to go by, should be absolutely out-of-this-world. Aside from that, any Close Encounters will have to be back in their native Ireland. Tonight's Pleasance Session was worth all the moondust in the sky and the ticket price on top; a sparse stage lined with starlight that could only highlight the blinding wonder of Abandoman's Moonrock Boombox.
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