J is a fringe machine.

Bradley’s Bucks is a group I’ve heard a lot about, but have never seen a show. In my pockets, I am a big lover of Fringe dance productions and I knew there were a lot of JUNK boys in this show. I saw ….strand… and Kink Haus (which were both great, Kink Haus is electric) so I had some expectations.

First of all, the show started really late. Like. Really late. Like. Hour and a half late. And I was at a bar. So drinking was a problem (or a solution) but maybe that was the point. Either way, shows can’t start that late. Bar or no. I stand by that.

insert thoughts here was (I think?) about our sort of obsession and problem with substances. And being as drunk as I was at the show, I get that. As to be expected, the dancing was exciting.

Teddy Fatscher deserves a lot of praise. His presence onstage is really striking, and he comes straight to insert thoughts here after canoeing across a river as an entrance in …strand. I’m also doing two shows this fringe, but I’m not doing that. Mad props. Another stand out performer was William Burden. His grace and precision were electric. There was a host of sorts in Tom Schmitt, which didn’t work for me. It just seemed like he was there because… well… I don’t know, actually. Because somebody has to keep the audience from leaving a long show that starts really late? Could have done without that.

There were also some provocative images. Like a Jesus allegory from a suspended bed in the middle of the space or a spinning table that the dancers jump up and perform balancing acts on.  The most striking moment, however, was the simplest. A long silver tube was hanging from the ceiling during the show. At one point, it lowered and started spitting out a thick fog. Each of the men took a hit from the fog and started coughing and giggling and crying and screaming and dancing and giggling some more. That’s the sort of shit that sticks with you.

That, and the three day hangover you get from drinking too much shitty beer at Franky Bradley’s.


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