Voodoo Rooms (Venue 68)
Aug 6-28 (not 17)
Jayde Adams has been building a following at the Fringe over the past few years, starting in the traditional manner, sharing a bill with a gradually smaller number of others, until this year she presents her solo show, Jayde 31, with its iconic bum-painted-on-chin poster.
The show is consistently sold out at the Voodoo Rooms, I have to flirt outrageously with a bouncer to get the last standing space (oh, the things I do for the arts) but I’m determined. Jayde was also in Edinburgh as part of Scottee’s Camp (as Christmas) for Edinburgh’s Christmas, so I know I’m onto a good thing.
Well, she certainly doesn’t disappoint. She leads her adoring audience on a nostalgic trip back to her teenage years, losing her virginity to a boy with curtains, the heady scent of Lynx Africa, Leonardo DiCaprio fantasy sex scenes, dance competitions with her sister, school sports when you’re the fat kid and how her more popular sister even got asthma better than her.
She gives her all with physical comedy, refusing to be shamed for her stature, taking up space and being the sexiest funniest girl you ever met. Her lip-synched phone call with her Mum about gypsies is devastatingly hilarious and her audience participation is on point
At almost the end of the set, Adams flips the mood completely. She shares more from her own story, of intense tragedy but also how she’s been guided by wild transvestites since she emerged as one of Bristol’s greatest exports (asides from the slave trade). Her tears are genuine and real, her transparency tender and challenging.
While she’s holding her donations bucket at the end I shout over to find out what she’s drinking (white wine, to save you time when you go) because I just think “fuck, that girl needs a drink right now”. We have a quick chat upstairs and she’s just as lovely and gracious as I could hope.
An unmissable Fringe gem, uncut, sparkling and precious.