Dear Friends,
the broadstairs, the enjambement, the squeet, the little pies, the supplication – these are notions but the Cooch (so tightly wound to its Peach) is a night out. Look at what this man said:
“I could not leave the building after the last one. I have been clearing away glasses for four weeks now and they give me bits of food and some smokes. My life used to be shit: consumerism and that. Now I am rich inside because of this business with the slides.”
(Alan, 22/05/08)
Packed, they moaned delightedly. Children and weaklings were held aloft in the cleaner air by the ‘Enthusiasts’ as they dubbed themselves (self-dubbing). The whole idea of the spontaneous folk-song was resurrected as if war had been declared but in a good way. The cloakroom bulged with the bags laid aside by the over-cautious who, now, were bigging it.
The fifth Peachy Coochy occasion will be held, as usual, in the Bar at Toynbee Studios. Tickets £5.00. Booking advised but walk up welcome.
more details + map here:
http://www.artsadmin.co.uk/projects/project.php?id=211
This is what you get:
David Gale’s Peachy Coochy Nites
Just a projector and 20 images. Just 20 seconds per image. During those 20 seconds the Presenter talks about the image. So simple. So precise. So demanding. This is the Peachy Coochy Way.
David Gale, ever keen to launch a nationwide performance must-have, is curating a series of Peachy Coochy events at ArtsAdmin’s new, stylish yet reassuring Bar. Each event features six Coocheurs, or Presenters, drawn from many walks of life. Each Coocheur will compose a verbal response to 20 images of their choice. The images need not be narratively linked but randomness is frowned upon. Thematic associations are embraced. Each presentation lasts 6 minutes and 40 seconds. There will be gaps between presentations for drinking and light conversation.
It might be that a typical Peachy Coochy event contains contributions from, say, a reliable yet inevitably narcissistic performer, a lepidopterist, a nun, a surgeon, a robber.
David Gale, something of a Black Belt in these matters, will both compere and present in the course of the sushi that resembles a sidetable of syllabub. On the fourth occasion David was at times eloquent or grand then grandiloquent, at other times coarse, terse then rushed, often murmuring, broken, repaired, gushing, at all times up, in, by.
We have six Coocheurs, including myself, lined up. I have no idea what the others will do.
Please come along, if only to be able to say “I was there when David cried ‘Hello, sparkling new form of entertainment!’ and lo, there was some.”
Some of you, pleased by the Nite, may wish to compose your own presentations. See me afterwards.
all the best
David