Friday, 22 March 2024

Adam Rowe, "What's Wrong With Me?" UK Tour 2024. Venue38, Ayr. Friday 22nd March, 2024


I've never listened to his podcast, but his show, "Juicy", which I caught on YouTube, was a superior work of comedy. I had to catch him live. When I noticed he was playing in Ayr (I couldn't make the Edinburgh date), I thought close enough. I didn't realise close still meant an hour's drive, in both directions, along an average-speed M77.

I don't know Ayr, but I figured if I left early enough, I'd find somewhere to park on a street near the venue. Three times I went around that town centre, passing taxi ranks, bus stops, and lanes of disabled spaces, cursing the continuous double yellow lines until I eventually gave up and paid to use a public car park. By this time, I'd been driving in circles for so long that I had no idea where the venue was, and the map on my phone wasn't updating my location. I had to return to the car to check the sat nav. Turned out the venue, Venue 38, was just down the road and around the corner.

I joined the queue, pleased to be quite near the front. The young punters behind me were stoked to see Adam, remarking how much they loved him and Paul Smith (another Liverpudlian comedian). While they waited, they showed each other comedy reels on their phones. A short, heavy shower didn't dampen their spirits. 


At 7 pm, the venue doors opened and we shuffled in, the girl in the booth checking off our names from her list. Venue 38 is a nightclub, not my natural environment. The decor and ultraviolet lighting triggered bad memories from my youth. I sussed out where I wanted to sit (not on the balcony due to a rogue stage light; not at the sides due to the pillars restricting the view). I settled for a seat in the middle of the third row on the dancefloor - close enough not to have my view blocked but far enough away not to be noticed by the comedian (I hoped). The ultraviolet light lit up everyone wearing anything white, including the cap of a bloke in the front row. A brave choice of headwear, I reckoned.



The gig was nowhere near a sellout. Indeed, in terms of my seating location, if I was a meeple on a monastery tile in Carcassone, my score would have been terrible, with empty space in front and beside me. My unhindered view was great, though. 
 
Having driven for over an hour, I needed to pee. The Gent's toilets were honking. The pensioner attendant, who stood over his stash of aftershaves at the sinks, must have been there so long he'd grown accustomed to the smell. Either that or he wanted to be tipped for others to block out the smell with his scoosh.  

The opening act was Darren Connell. He's best known for the programme Scot Squad, where he appeared as Bobby Muir, the character who regularly pestered "Officer Karen." I'd seen him live once before and didn't particularly appreciate his style of Glasgow comedy. The audience didn't warm to him much tonight either, with him commenting about the silence in the room a couple of times. He finished strong, but he could have done better. It didn't help, though, that the venue didn't turn off the spinning disco lights that covered the dancefloor for the first ten minutes of his set. 

Adam Rowe looked different tonight. Dressed in a tracksuit, he appeared trim. His teeth were also perfectly white like he'd gone down the Jimmy Carr route by getting veneers. Disregarding these positive cosmetic differences in his appearance, his comedy is still the same - passionate tales about his various failed relationships and of his family (his father drinks whisky alone at home while watching Corrie, while his mother drank two bottles of vodka a day for twenty years, so by comparison, Adam's certainly not an alcoholic, he says). He discussed his neuroses and how he'd feel if he ever had to give up being a standup. He delayed getting a full-body MRI because he didn't want his deepest fears about his ill health confirmed. It took a special encounter with a disabled man to persuade him he could own his illness once it was diagnosed. The answer to what was wrong with him was classic and a brilliant, unexpected callback.

Adam has a gift for standup. He might not be to everyone's taste, but for those who know, he's up there with the best. 

Ticket price: £24.75 inc fees from Ticketmaster.   


    
 

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