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Champion beatboxer Grace Savage: raising her voice for women Champion beatboxer Grace Savage: raising her voice for women
(3 days later)
Grace Savage has always paid close attention to the sounds around her. As a child, she'd mimic everything from ambulance sirens to the hiss of a kettle; now, at 25, she still can't resist imitating the accents she finds particularly interesting – even when it gets her into trouble.Grace Savage has always paid close attention to the sounds around her. As a child, she'd mimic everything from ambulance sirens to the hiss of a kettle; now, at 25, she still can't resist imitating the accents she finds particularly interesting – even when it gets her into trouble.
"I was getting into a taxi in Leeds recently," she tells me, smiling broadly, "and I repeated back what the driver said to me, just because I loved the way he said it. He was Asian, and my friends next to me in the taxi were like, "That's racist!" Of course I didn't mean it like that, but I couldn't help it – I've just always had that impulse.""I was getting into a taxi in Leeds recently," she tells me, smiling broadly, "and I repeated back what the driver said to me, just because I loved the way he said it. He was Asian, and my friends next to me in the taxi were like, "That's racist!" Of course I didn't mean it like that, but I couldn't help it – I've just always had that impulse."
Savage has channelled her unusual ability for mimicry into an unusual profession: that of champion beatboxer. She is a former member of the hugely popular Vocal Orchestra, led by beatboxing supremo Shlomo; and earlier this year, she took to the stage to beatbox her way through a role in Home, the National Theatre's critically acclaimed show about homelessness. For two years running, she also held the title of Britain's official female beatbox champion: though given the paucity of women practising beatboxing – Savage and her friend Belle Ehresmann, aka Bellatrix, are pretty much the only British women currently making a living from the art form – the title doesn't quite do her justice.Savage has channelled her unusual ability for mimicry into an unusual profession: that of champion beatboxer. She is a former member of the hugely popular Vocal Orchestra, led by beatboxing supremo Shlomo; and earlier this year, she took to the stage to beatbox her way through a role in Home, the National Theatre's critically acclaimed show about homelessness. For two years running, she also held the title of Britain's official female beatbox champion: though given the paucity of women practising beatboxing – Savage and her friend Belle Ehresmann, aka Bellatrix, are pretty much the only British women currently making a living from the art form – the title doesn't quite do her justice.
Savage's status as one of the only professional women beatboxers in the country has, in part, inspired her to put together a new solo show – shortly to open at the Edinburgh festival – looking at the sounds we hear, and how they help shape young women's understanding of who they are.Savage's status as one of the only professional women beatboxers in the country has, in part, inspired her to put together a new solo show – shortly to open at the Edinburgh festival – looking at the sounds we hear, and how they help shape young women's understanding of who they are.
Blind, created with the Leeds-based theatre company the Paper Birds, takes the form of a Victorian freakshow, where "the unusual, the mystifying" Savage – a "freak" because her gender and profession render her so rare – emerges in bloomers and trainers. Her performance blends autobiography – Savage's childhood in Devon, where she first fell in love with hip-hop – with some of the many sounds she, and other young women, grow up hearing. There is Savage's mother, telling her not to fall in love with anyone unless they have money. There are fragments of news stories. There are advertising slogans – "because you're worth it"; "with these [Ferrero] Rocher, you are really spoiling us" – cleverly beatboxed by Savage between bursts of white noise, like a radio tuning in and out.Blind, created with the Leeds-based theatre company the Paper Birds, takes the form of a Victorian freakshow, where "the unusual, the mystifying" Savage – a "freak" because her gender and profession render her so rare – emerges in bloomers and trainers. Her performance blends autobiography – Savage's childhood in Devon, where she first fell in love with hip-hop – with some of the many sounds she, and other young women, grow up hearing. There is Savage's mother, telling her not to fall in love with anyone unless they have money. There are fragments of news stories. There are advertising slogans – "because you're worth it"; "with these [Ferrero] Rocher, you are really spoiling us" – cleverly beatboxed by Savage between bursts of white noise, like a radio tuning in and out.
Amid all the current concerns about raunch culture and body image – both of which are essentially visual – and their increasingly negative effects on young women's self-esteem (a joint study by universities in the UK and US drew a compelling link between social media and negative body image in April), the show offers an interesting chance to think about sound as an alternative source of both power and identity. It has, Savage says, opened her eyes to a host of auditory influences she had never even thought about before.Amid all the current concerns about raunch culture and body image – both of which are essentially visual – and their increasingly negative effects on young women's self-esteem (a joint study by universities in the UK and US drew a compelling link between social media and negative body image in April), the show offers an interesting chance to think about sound as an alternative source of both power and identity. It has, Savage says, opened her eyes to a host of auditory influences she had never even thought about before.
"Jemma [McDonnell, the show's co-creator and director] set me a series of tasks," she says. "I wrote down everything I could remember that my mum told me, every news report I could remember. I made a mixtape of all the hip-hop songs I listened to when I was younger. Suddenly, I realised that some of the lyrics were essentially about rape. Back then, I'd never thought about that." Savage loves rap and hip-hop – and of course all musical genres can be equally prone to slide into misogyny. But the experience was enough to make her rethink some of the music she'd grown up with. "It's only as you get older that you start to recognise these subconscious influences, and how much power they have.""Jemma [McDonnell, the show's co-creator and director] set me a series of tasks," she says. "I wrote down everything I could remember that my mum told me, every news report I could remember. I made a mixtape of all the hip-hop songs I listened to when I was younger. Suddenly, I realised that some of the lyrics were essentially about rape. Back then, I'd never thought about that." Savage loves rap and hip-hop – and of course all musical genres can be equally prone to slide into misogyny. But the experience was enough to make her rethink some of the music she'd grown up with. "It's only as you get older that you start to recognise these subconscious influences, and how much power they have."
Perhaps the most arresting sequence in the show comes when Savage beatboxes a series of these lyrics – often dipping her voice to impersonate the (usually) male rappers who wrote them – while behind her, at the back of the stage, are projected some of the many comments she has received on her YouTube videos. They start off benignly enough – "how is that possible"; "marry me :)" – but quickly denegerate into rampant misogyny – "WHY YOU NOT IN KITCHEN"; "she can do that on my penis any day please".Perhaps the most arresting sequence in the show comes when Savage beatboxes a series of these lyrics – often dipping her voice to impersonate the (usually) male rappers who wrote them – while behind her, at the back of the stage, are projected some of the many comments she has received on her YouTube videos. They start off benignly enough – "how is that possible"; "marry me :)" – but quickly denegerate into rampant misogyny – "WHY YOU NOT IN KITCHEN"; "she can do that on my penis any day please".
"Audiences tend to get quite emotional at that bit," Savage admits. "It's weird for me, because I'm always being asked what it's like to be one of the only women in such a male-dominated scene - and to be honest, most of the time it's fine, and people are friendly. But through the show, I started thinking again about the things I get told over the internet, just because I'm a beatboxer, and I happen to be female. It's pretty nasty: if you paid attention to that all the time, it would probably break you.""Audiences tend to get quite emotional at that bit," Savage admits. "It's weird for me, because I'm always being asked what it's like to be one of the only women in such a male-dominated scene - and to be honest, most of the time it's fine, and people are friendly. But through the show, I started thinking again about the things I get told over the internet, just because I'm a beatboxer, and I happen to be female. It's pretty nasty: if you paid attention to that all the time, it would probably break you."
Luckily, Savage has no intention of allowing herself to be broken – by internet commenters, or anybody else. She's passionate about the potential offered by a show such as Blind – the chance to make beatboxing an inherent part of the theatrical experience, rather than a purely aural performance. And she hopes that the women – and the men – who see Blind will think again about the sounds they hear and the things they are told, and decide that it is their right to decide whether or not to pay them any attention.Luckily, Savage has no intention of allowing herself to be broken – by internet commenters, or anybody else. She's passionate about the potential offered by a show such as Blind – the chance to make beatboxing an inherent part of the theatrical experience, rather than a purely aural performance. And she hopes that the women – and the men – who see Blind will think again about the sounds they hear and the things they are told, and decide that it is their right to decide whether or not to pay them any attention.
"What I hope audiences take from the show," she says, "is a heightened awareness of the sounds we are all constantly hearing in the world. And, as cheesy as it sounds, that they have a voice, and it matters – even if they don't think it does.""What I hope audiences take from the show," she says, "is a heightened awareness of the sounds we are all constantly hearing in the world. And, as cheesy as it sounds, that they have a voice, and it matters – even if they don't think it does."
Blind is at the Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, from 17-25 August. Pleasance.co.uk