It is festival season and that means that in the next month there is so many great comedy festivals to look forward to! This month we are looking at some of the great shows that you can see at the Edinburgh Fringe. So take note because we are going to give you all the information you need for just a handful of some of the great shows happening this year!

Amy Matthews: I Feel Like I’m Made of Spiders

Location:   Monkey Barrel Comedy (The Tron) – The Tron (Venue 51)

Dates:  Aug 2nd-8th, 10th-15th, 17th-22nd, 24th-27th

Time: 15:00

Price: £8

Ticket Link: https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/amy-matthews-i-feel-like-i-m-made-of-spiders

Hello! Tell us about yourself? 

I think my general vibe can be summarised by the following 5 facts:  

• I carry a 1st class stamp with me at all times ‘in case of emergencies’.
• I completely freeze during ad breaks like a baby who is mesmerised by shapes and colours and I never realise I’m doing it until someone points it out. 
• Whenever I see high quality matte paper I have to touch it.
• One of my favourite things in the world is seeing a chef smoking in the alleyway behind their restaurant because it feels like stealing a glimpse of the mucky mechanical secrets under the bonnet of a beautiful car. 
• I once guessed the wifi password in a restaurant and have spent the rest of my life chasing that same high.

How did you come up with the name of your show that you’re taking to the fringe?

A couple of things really. It was a genuine answer I gave to a friend last year when they asked me how I was doing. At the time, that was the best way that I could summarise the physiological and emotional sensation of – to put it mildly – having a pretty rotten time. They asked, how are you doing today? And replied, I feel like I’m made of spiders. I didn’t think much about it, then I began to write the show.

I realised it was going to be about trying to reconcile the twinned freedom and anxiety of temporariness, and that actually a spider metaphor was pretty bang on: they build temporary homes that get destroyed; they build that home from within themselves; they are solitary creatures; their web is both the most fragile thing in the world and, pound for pound, technically stronger than steel. Those things all come up in aspects of the show. So I decided to call it that – “I Feel Like I’m Made of Spiders”. A statement that has grown to represent both sides of the coin that are explored in the hour. From a vulnerable headspace, to say you feel like you are made of spiders is to say you are crawling with anxiety and restlessness and horror. From an empowered headspace, the same statement says you feel like you can build your own sense of home and you have complete freedom in where you go and what you do and your resourcefulness with serve you. 

All that, and it’s a silly title i’nt it. 

Tell us all about your show!

On one hand, it’s a show about how the nature of temporariness means that we disconnect from people, place and self to protect ourselves from pain. On the other hand, it’s about the joy and boundless humour found in the act of rebuilding and reconnecting. On another (additional) hand, (I think I’m allowed an extra hand if I feel like i’m made of something with 8 legs), it’s a show about hieroglyphics, silent discos, kids at weddings and Henry VIII.

Friend and endlessly impressive individual, Josh Pugh, described a work in progress version of the show that he saw as ‘very clever and very daft’, and that was a really lovely and economical summary of what I’d hoped the vibe of the show would be.

It’s also being directed by the human firework of imagination that is Elf Lyons, which has been gorgeous. Her brain and her work operate in a very different way to my own, so I’m hoping that her influence is refracted through my voice in an interesting way. 

What other acts are you looking forward to seeing at the fringe?

Both Spencer Jones and Soup Group always makes me feel unadulterated joy the purest form. Wholesome, artful, silly gorgeousness. 

I saw Johnny White Really-Really’s one off show last year that he is doing a run of this year and his style is unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s like being on a log flume that pootles along serenely and beautifully and then suddenly drops you into cackling joy. You leave the show with water in your shoes and a beaming smile on your face. 

Sarah Keyworth is also someone who I could listen to for hours. I think they pair vulnerability and charm in a way that utterly liquifies their audience. I can’t wait to see their work in progress show. 

I’m also absolutely buzzing to see Jay Lafferty’s hour this year too. She is being her usual hilarious and masterful comedian self – but whilst pole dancing. Say no more. 

Have you done the fringe before? What are the key pieces of advice you have been given or would give to new groups or people performing at the fringe. 

Someone told me last year that although it’s turned into an industry cattle market, that’s not what it is at it’s core. In actuality, we’ve invited the industry to our house – they are guests. I think that’s a helpful way for performers to reframe it.

The same person (they’re v. wise) also reminded me that so much of the Fringe is out of your hands – the politics, the luck, the audience – that when it comes to the stuff you can control, put your all into it. That’s the stuff that matters. Your creative decisions. Your artwork. Your material. Your vision. I suppose the wisdom to know what is in and out of your control also comes into that.

As far as my own advice goes, it would be to assemble your team, know who they are and lean on them. When I say ‘team’ that could be in a literal sense of assembling a professional network around you – your agent / your peers / your director / your PR person / your producer or whatever. Comedy is such an individual pursuit that we forget we can collaborate and work with people. I also mean ‘team’ in an interpersonal sense. Know who your friends and support network are. It’s a month where you’re going to need to be held – my God make sure you have people there for you who have their arms free. 

Favourite one liner you have done in a show and why?

In my last show I had a line about being woken up with anxiety in the middle of the night because my brain said ‘if all the grapes these days are seedless, how are we going to make new ones?’, and watching an entire audience every day laugh and then wonder the exact same thing, was a very nice moment.

What have been some of the most unique and different comedy shows you have seen this year and why?

I saw Rob Auton’s “Crowd Show” on tour and it was the most deliciously life-affirming thing I’ve seen in a very long time. And his way of gently and deftly weaving poetry and stand up and musings into the fabric of a show makes for one hell of a comfort blanket. 

I’ve also seen bits and bobs of Adam Flood’s show, “Clayhead”, and it’s glorious. So funny, so mad, so musical, so technically inventive. I feel like watching Adam is like seeing the lovechild of a nutty professor and the cool kid who smoked behind the bikeshed at school.  Great combo.

Talk us through your daily routine for a day at the Fringe

Well, my daily routine last year and this year will look very different. 

Last year: 

Wake up. Coffee. Look over show. Chat to Vittorio about how we were both doing. Watch people disappointed that they couldn’t get into Vittorio’s sold out show begrudgingly join the queue into mine. Have a debrief with Eleanor Morton about how hers went. Do my show. Cuddle Ben from Plosive’s lovely dog, Toast. Go and see a show. Cry in a toilet. Grab dinner with a friend. Cry in a toilet. Cry in the street. Cry in the arms of my friend David. Cry in the arms of my friend Liam. Cry in the arms of my friend Amelia (it’s important to shake up routine…). Go to bed with the crushing anxiety that my life was falling apart. 

This year:

Wake up. Look at some grass for a bit. Arrive at my venue. Have a debrief with Ian Smith about his show on just before mine. Do my show.  Tell Garrett Millerick – who is on after me – whether I’ll be happy or depressed for the rest of the day because of how my show went. Find a dog in the wild to tell it I love it. See a show. Hug my friend David. Hug my friend Liam. Passionately kiss my friend Amelia (it’s important to shake up routine…). Go to bed with surrendering freedom that the world is indeed falling apart, but I’m very lucky to be telling jokes about it.

What is the best way to enjoy yourself at the fringe?

I absolutely love going to see other people’s shows. It’s so exciting and inspiring and invigorating. I think the best way is also to act in collaboration with where your personal battery is at. If there’s a day where you’re full of energy, great, go see stuff, have drinks with pals, climb Arthur’s Seat (if you must). Then when a day comes when you’re operating at 30%, respect that, and go home and recharge. I’ve gotten really into watching timelapse videos of lone men build shelters out of nature in the Alaskan countryside. Or whatever floats your boat really…  

Best thing about performing at the fringe?

Having all of your friends and peers in one place. It’s so nice to know that you can walk around for less than five minutes and see someone you know and like. Also getting to share this thing you’ve been working on with different people every day is wonderful. And for me personally – an Edinburgh resident – it’s bloody brilliant that the world comes to my doorstep for the month. No trains, no hotels, no flitting about. The party is in my house! (even if the party goes on too long, nobody uses coasters and is full of awful people.)

The most challenging thing about performing at the fringe?

I was having a difficult few days during the Fringe last year and my dear friend and wonderfully talented comedian, Amelia Bayler, described the Fringe as a ‘spiritually unwell place’. I think it’s been the most perfect summary and oddly helpful way of looking at it. She’s a clever cookie. 

The Fringe really is a pressure-cooker of people being outwardly loudly vibrant and inwardly quietly broken. It’s like living in social media. You are surrounded by people’s highlights reel – their posters, their 5 star reviews, their sold out shows, their nominations. And privately, everyone is crying and shitting and screaming. As a result, it can feel like you only operate in two spaces during the month – either under the glittering lights of a stage, or gasping for air in a sewer. And you have to remind yourself that there is a middle ground accessible to you, it’s just not very well signposted, so you have to be wary of not straying too far into the glitter or the shit. Because both glitter and shit are notoriously hard to clear up. 

What would be your top three items every performer must take to the fringe?

1. A good pillow  – to sleep on, to scream into, to fight your hot friends with in slow motion. Crucial.
2. A copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses, as a visual reminder that whilst things can be of cultural significance and of critical acclaim, they can also be too long and fucking annoying. This will become particularly relatable around day 20 of the festival, or shortly after seeing an overhyped play about the plight of a tortured artist in 1970s Eastbourne or something.
3. Babybels. 

What’s the secret to successful flyering? 

I’ve flyered myself a few times over the years and my biggest lesson was to work smarter not harder. You don’t have to flyer for hours and hours. You have to flyer well for the hour or so before the show, and target the right people. 

Who would be your ultimate dream audience member?

Leslie Knope from Parks and Rec. My spirit animal. She’d be on time, she’d be generous with praise and has a giddy laugh. It’s all really good stuff. 

If people want to find out more about you, where can they follow you on social media?

@AmyFMatthews 

And finally in three words – Why should people come and see the show? 

Fans of hyphens-and-loopholes-will-enjoy-my-show-because-the-show-is-the-perfect-combination-of-pedantic-and-silly.