Luke Wright has been delighting audiences with his beautiful funny stand up poetry shows since he was a teenager. A superstar of the live poetry circuit, his latest show is all about Joy.
Tell us about your show. Why should we go and see it?
There was a French novelist called Henri De Montherlant. He’s mostly forgotten now, apart from a single quote which does the rounds amongst poets – “happiness writes white.” He actually said “happiness writes in white ink on a white page.” And he didn’t say that anyway, because he said it in French, but the gist remains the same. Happiness cannot be captured by writing. No sentence can truly rely the feeling of pure joy. But what you should also probably know is that De Montherland killed himself by first taking cyanide pills and then shooting himself in head (an impressive belt and braces approach to suicide).
He did have a point though. It’s much easier to write sad or bittersweet poems. In my career I’ve usually veered towards to satirical or the poignant. So I thought I’d set myself the challenge of trying to write about joy this year. Can I do it? Best get a ticket and find out.
What makes you laugh?
My wife.
What three words best describe your performance style – and why?
Stiller than before
Do you have nerves about going on stage and how do you cope with them.
Very much so when the work is new, but otherwise not really. But I do need to be on my own and assure myself I am ready. I can’t be having a nice meal and then stumble straight onto the stage. I mean, I can, but it wouldn’t be much fun for me and consequently, my date.
What’s your idea of a perfect Fringe feast and where will you eat it?
There’s a banging little Chinese place opposite the back of the Dome. I’ve had many special meals in there with special people. It’s a place to be shared.
How will your audience think/feel differently after an hour in your company?
I think poetry has the ability to make an audience look inwardly at themselves. The things I tell them will land differently with each person. I remember reading Phillip Larkin at 25, newly married, in love and happy and being struck by entirely different poems to those I loved of his at 36, a divorced father of two. We bring so much of our own lives to the art we engage with, I can’t tell you how mine will make you feel. It has the potential to shovel you up, make you face things you might have buried, but it can also be a much needed balm, it can make you feel seen. And if that sounds a bit heavy, there’s loads of stupid jokes in there as well.
When did you first realise you were born to be on stage?
I’m not sure I was born to it exactly, but this quote from Decline and Fall reminds me of the desire to be on stage … “Life is like the big wheel at Luna Park. You pay five francs and go into a room with tiers of seats all around, and in the centre the floor is made of a great disc of polished wood that revolves quickly. At first you sit down and watch the others. They are all trying to sit in the wheel, and they keep getting flung off, and that makes them laugh too. It’s great fun.
You see, the nearer you can get to the hub of the wheel the slower it is moving and the easier it is to stay on. There’s generally someone in the centre who stands up and sometimes does a sort of dance. Often he’s paid by the management, though, or, at any rate, he’s allowed in free.”
Why do you think Edinburgh Fringe is so important to performers and artists around the world?
There’s nothing quite like it. Sure there are Fringes but this is the biggest and longest and I think that is part of it. You can dive right in and all of you gets submerged.
How do you plan to relax and enjoy the city when you’re not performing.
What, other than hiding under the duvet and watching Endeavour? I shall climb Arthur’s seat, I shall resolve and fail to go to the botanical gardens, and I shall stay up till dawn with people I barely knew but will now know for the rest of my life.
Who is your showbiz idol and why.
Damon Albarn. He is everything that I strive to be as an artist – restless, collaborative (still not very good at this one), changeable but still undeniable himself, and above all, rich.
What is your idea of a perfect Fringe moment?
I think I may have already experienced it. I supported John Cooper Clarke at the Playhouse. It was a wonderful gig, one of my comedy heroes, Stewart Lee, was also on the bill. My set went down well and I plugged my late night show (Luke Wright’s Late Night Dance Floor Fillers) on stage. The show had had a lacklustre run. It turns out 11pm is a bit late for a nuanced poetry show.
After the gig I stood in the foyer of the Playhouse holding flyers for my show with my mate and fellow support act, Mike Garry. Unlike any previous fringe experience people grabbed them from me until eventually a small group of people gathered round me, “we’ll just follow you.” And so it came to pass I lead a group of punters, eager for more poems (More poems! More poems!) across Edinburgh and for the first time in 3 weeks played to a full house. The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur but I needed up dancing at the Underbelly till 5am with Charlotte Church.
I appreciate there’s not really a way of telling that story without sounding like a smug prick, but rest assured I do a better job at writing about pure joy in my show.
LUKE WRIGHT: JOY!, 14.55 Pleasance Dome, July 31 – Aug 13
