Christian Reilly has walked upon and calmed the boiling seas of the Royal Mile and resurrected the flogged and lifeless corpse of comedy music. Reilly has achieved this by performing with so much biblical gusto and zest it is impossible not to be possessed by his optimistic persona. From the moment he walks on stage, introduces himself and plays a song in which he teaches the audience his name and wails like Van Halen about the banalities of life, he has the crowd in his palm.
He has also called upon the spirits of the late greats, such as Les Dawson, and uses his music as a crux for his jokes, rather than a crutch. Be it his theories on how to improve the classic Nokia ringtone or his explanation as to why singing in an American accent is sexier, he uses his intimate knowledge of music and musicians to make his act much more than the man-tells-jokes-to-backing-track scenario that seems to be so prevalent at the fringe.
No matter the content of his musical sermons, be it socio-political observation, fellatio or the deconstruction of your favourite band, Reilly rarely blesses his audience with anything less than the extremely funny.
