The beats and the birdsong are constant threads in this lyrical memoir from performance poet Jenny Foulds.
Blurry edges are the stuff of good nights, and this piece is full of them: a sequence of love letters to teenage crushes, Jurassic Park, strangers at raves, strangers on Tinder, her dad, and her friends tumble out with barely a breath between them.
From 1993 onwards we journey with Foulds though her teenage years, and an unexpectedly public coming out, through the hedonistic chaos of early adulthood, through grief, and out – mostly – the other side.
While pitched as performance poetry this show is more of a conversation in verse – standup with metaphor, memories recanted in a captivating stream. There is shared nostalgia (for people of a similar age to Foulds, the recitation of 90s chart artists is a series of synaptical explosions, the interaction of a pencil and cassette tape a kind of cultural Masonic handshake) and deeply personal memories (tasting homegrown strawberries with her dad shortly before he died, the wisdom of her gran.)
A whirlwind date in New York is described with evocative economy (the two lovers, London and San Fran); it almost feels intrusive to listen, but Foulds is open and giving.
The 45 minutes rushes by, and the only thing wrong is the title. There’s nothing nonsensical here (and I’m not sure how much she would really claim to have learnt). Foulds tell us she dreams of inventing a joy machine, but doesn’t seem to realise she is one.
- Jenny Foulds: Life Learnings of a Nonsensical Human is touring nationally.
