These are my favorite songs of 2013. In a rough order. for some of them I have noted the first time I heard them.
San Francisco - Foxygen
Song for Zula - Phosphorescent
Avant Gardener - Courtney Barnett
Open - Rhye
Bugs Don't Buzz - Majical Cloudz
Smother - Daughter
The first time I ever heard this song I was on a packed train at the end of a tired day. It was cold on the platform, I was pushed inside, I ended up near a man who kept making faces at a small boy who wouldn't smile, no matter what.
Won't You Come Over - Devendra Banhart
Dancing in a candle lit lounge drinking/mostly spilling wine.
Pretty Boy - Young Galaxy
Song For The Sold - Kishi Bashi
Riding through a neighborhood I've never been through on the way back from portabello market. tall mansions. I went down a little street past some important building maybe it was an embassy or something, anyway there was a police guard out the front with a machine gun. I rode past quickly, he whistled I looked back and he was waving me back. I turned around, took out my headphones, rode back - thinking I was either going to be shot or something and he said "this is a oneway street, I'd hate to see a car come round the corner and clean you up"
Ironworks - Baths
Advance Falconry - Mutual Benefit
Night, maybe midnight, port, candles, by the window.
Chum - Earl Sweatshirt
Early morning. Cold street, walking or kind of running - I'm late. Crossing streets, anxious drivers already angry drivers. They woon't let me cross. They're on the way to work, maybe they do this everyday, maybe not, but theres no need to worry so much.
Even If We Try - Night Beds
Late morning, one of those really crisp sunny ones, hearts sore these mornings. I'm by the canal, the bright bounces.
Riptide - Vance Joy
I was running, just for fun, I did that once or twice a year - at those times when I was really not sure what else to do.
Somebody to Love - Valerie June
Les Enfants - Celeste
Kicking leaves, kicking leaves in the park, slap a tree trunk - slap a tree five - why not?
Small Plane - Bill Callahan
Going down to the shops for groceries, getting lost in the horizon, getting lost in the song.
Darkside - Paper Trails
Patroling the streets, searching for some fireworks, got to get some fireworks for Remember Remember. That guy who normally opens up a wardrobe full of fireworks this time of year, where is he now? where is he when I need him?
Hannah Hunt - Vampire Weekend
Manhattan - Cat Power
And Then I Found Myself In The Taiga - Norwegian Arms
Off the back of a critically acclaimed Edinburgh Fringe season multi-award winning Australian theatre maker Stuart Bowden presents the London premier of She Was Probably Not A Robot.
She Was Probably Not A Robot is a lo-fi, DIY, off-beat, sci-fi, storytelling experience; a surreal, soulful comedy about a decomposing world and a cosmic visitor. When the world ends in flood and fire, one man, asleep on his air-mattress, floats out of his bedroom window, through burning debris and out to sea to be the sole survivor and last hope for humanity. This is an enchanting tale adorned with simple storytelling and physical comedy. Stuartʼ s smartly crafted writing, combined with his joyful performance makes for an uplifting tale of loneliness, grief, hope and silliness.
Nominated for the Brighton Fringe Emerging Talent Award, Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2013.
"he creates a hilarious, bittersweet and completely enthralling world"
"utterly compelling from the start to finish"
"Phenomenal one man wonder show... Stuart Bowden is an absolute genius... With live music, bizarre storytelling and perfect physical comedy, She Was Probably Not A Robot will leave you with a skip in your step and a smile on your heart"
"gorgeous notes of melancholia"
"a subliminal masterpiece"
"Deliciously bleak humour... laugh out loud funny and heartbreakingly poignant"
This is a picture of me when I was young (two years ago), but immensely wise. I was warming up to do the first preview of my first solo storytelling show called The World Holds Everyone Apart, Apart From Us - I look nervous. My warm up consisted of staring at a bit of blue tack for half an hour, whilst holding two oranges. It all went pretty well (the warm up and the show). I last performed this show in Edinburgh 2011 but I will be doing it again on Sunday (Nov 3rd 2013) at Brighton Dome. This excites me. As I re-learn the show I remember how much I love it. It has a pretty big heart, it may be my best work, did I peak too soon? Maybe. Has everything been trivial after? Who knows? I don't know, but what I do know is it makes me happy to be doing it again.
This is me now (a couple of months ago). I'm warming up to do my first preview of my latest show She Was Probably Not A Robot. My warm up has changed quite a bit (I now take 2 hours before the show to try and point at everything in the room). I know I look happy and confident but I was probably quite nervous (because I still had a lot of things in the room that I had not yet pointed at). I'm also doing this show at Brighton Dome on Sunday.
This is my shiny new tin-foil-clad solo creation. If you saw The Beast or The World Holds Everyone Apart, Apart From Us, this is a much darker but sillier show than those. It's stupid, sad and strange. It has more of a tormented (playfully) quality to it. Out of all of my solo shows I've had the most fun making this one. And I have the most fun performing it. If you're going to be in Edinburgh or know anyone who is, please come and invite anyone you think might be into that sort of thing. This is the Facebook event if that helps
This is a last minute addition to my Edinburgh offerings. A show that comes to you. My good friend and master storyteller Wil Greenway, is bringing his solo show A Night to Dismember, to Edinburgh. So we're re-uniting to re-kindle the show that we performed two years ago The Lounge Room Confabulators. This show is performed in peoples homes. The way it works is one person invites us round, they invite their friends, we show up and perform to them and then we leave. And it's pretty cheap too, you just have to pay £5 per person (minimum 6 people) and £20 to cover our taxi to and from your place. If you are interested in booking this show please send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org and we can work out a time and date.
Hotel. Andrew sprawls on top of the bed. Naked, stretching his arms and legs like a poorly broken egg, surrounded by the sea of blanket whites. Sun sizzles through the shitty blinds and the blankets get whiter. Andrew flips himself under, to avoid the light.
Lucy's not there, she's in a different country, a different time zone, she's walking with the horizon's old sun in her eyes. The familiar footpath to the post office, in her hand a slip of paper that says she has a parcel to collect. There's a relaxed pigeon in the gutter ahead, soaking up the last bit of sun after a big day. As Lucy approaches, the pigeon, let's call him Steve, Steve freaks out, starts walking away. Freaks out a bit more, starts running. Shits itself and flies into the air. Swoops around and flies straight for Lucy. Lucy flinches first and the pigeon claps with delight into the distance.
Andrew jolts out of bed, like he's been burnt and his day begins. Shower, slow, like a carwash, he stays still and everything seems to happen outside of him. The rest of the day is like that. He's in the car, he takes his hands off the wheel and he is guided through.
Lucy sits in the park, holding a shitty tin whistle. She's pretty happy with herself. Blows on it a little too hard and it screeches loud across the park. A dog gets mad and thinks violent thoughts. Lucy's oblivious, happy and foot-tapping like some sort of medieval folkie, it's sickening to watch.
Steve, stands in a circle of friends (and some passers-by who have stopped) beside the fountain and recounts his recent interaction. There is cheering at his victory and a general insurrectionary outrage among most pigeons there. Their day in the sun will come.