Charity shops are amongst the last bastions of recycling society’s unwanted items for one to stumble across a precious find. Amongst the mounds of bric-a-brac and boxsets of ageing sitcoms, Dan Lees has uncovered several obscure titles time has forgotten that he wishes to share with us through a series of prop-laden parodies. Is there a diamond to be found in this rough act? Not if Lees is content to settle for thrift shop rhinestone.
The bulk of the show is sprinkled unevenly with haphazard gags, blocking out the better parts of the evening
Vinyl Reflections traverses the ignored segments of yesteryear that have rightfully been disregarded, seeing Lees resurrect the ghosts of C-List musicians. But what we get from the yellow-suited comic is a frustrating act that too often shows promise only to lapse into bad habits, where the audience are left to fill not blanks but gaping holes. The opener – a mock audience tease with the microphone – goes beyond pseudo extended warm up to emerge an extreme version of show padding. Fifteen minutes in and we finally hear our first D chord; twenty-five minutes in and we finally hear Lees utter words. He doesn’t roll a gutter ball on his adaptation of Stephen Bishop’s Bowling In Paris, but it is by no means a strike, a bit which overstays its welcome.
When he drops the elongated segments, Lees appears to be very proficient in small doses, where his Mick Robertson garners many a snort and grants him a chance to exercise his dexterous improv with well-liked audience interactions. At the halfway point, Lee’s amusing twist on Sean Dunphy complete with mouth-moving dog mask proves he can still lead the crowd, but as pints empty and attention spans wander, the laughs are thinner and the audience hungrier for something new.
Can Lees control a group of drunken late-night revellers? Absolutely, a feat many are not given nearly enough credit for in the veritable Congo that is Free Fringe comedy. Is he charismatic as an entertainer? To a large degree. But the bulk of this show, sprinkled unevenly with haphazard gags, makes for an inconsequential slot, insulating itself with over-extended skits that only block out the better parts of the evening.
