Performing on a separate plane from anything remotely connected with that black cloud of topical controversy, the eloquent Lederer’s set forms two distinct, intertwined parts: He delves verbally – and physically – into the sparse audience like the lonely, intelligent party drunk and recounts rather flat stories with star names that seem grossly out of place.
It’s supposed to be relaxed and organic but you’ll be mentally (or physically?) crying out for some rehearsed gags until you realise that what you are seeing is the show. It’s like suddenly realising that the musician you thought was merely tuning his instrument is actually halfway through his set, and has ripped up his songbook in favour of feeling his way through the performance by ear.
It’s sweet, but tiresome for Scots to be portrayed as cartoon nation, and the English as pipe-smoking colonialists. It’s not patronising, but it’s not what the audience wants. Similarly, unless you have knowledge or experience you may struggle to pick up on the Jewish nuances.
There nothing offensively poor, but sorry to say, but the bridge has been burnt and it’s left Andrew J Lederer stranded on the laughter-free side.
2/5
Daniel Kirby
