EdFringe Talk: All These Pretty Things

Posted in *EdFestivals 2025, *Written Interviews by

“This year I’m doing four festivals in four weeks, which means an avalanche of posters, flyers, press emails… and mistakes.”

WHO: Tracey Yarad

WHAT: “An emotionally raw blend of memoir and song, Tracey Yarad’s All These Pretty Things is a phoenix-rising-from-the-ashes story, taking the audience from Australia and the fallout of a devastating divorce following her husband’s affair with their teenage goddaughter, to New York City and an inspiring new life. An evocative portrayal of one woman’s capacity to come back stronger than ever – an inspirational testament to the human spirit.”

WHERE: Fingers Piano Bar at PBH’s Free Fringe @ Fingers Piano Bar (Venue 221) 

WHEN: 16:20 (60 min)

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Is this your first time to Edinburgh?

This is my second time at the Edinburgh Fringe. I performed the same show last year with a full month-long run. As much as I loved the experience, I wasn’t planning on coming back this year — mostly for the usual reason: money. Like so many artists, I found the costs overwhelming — venue fees, advertising, posters, PR, accommodation — it all adds up fast. I told myself, “Don’t do it again unless someone offers you the Big Tent!” (Which, of course, didn’t happen. Ha!)

Then, earlier this year, I was performing at Adelaide Fringe and happened to meet a Free Fringe regular at a bar. We were commiserating over something (I’ll keep that off the record), and although we’d never met before, we got chatting. He came to my show, liked what he saw, and said, “Let’s see if we can find you a Free Fringe venue in Edinburgh.”

And now — here we are. I’m performing at Fingers Piano Bar with a gorgeous grand piano ready and waiting for me. How could I say no to that? Even if it is at 16:40 each day… I mean, what better time for a cocktail and a show before the evening kicks in?

What are the big things you’ve learned since 2024 and have you absorbed any of the lessons yet?

Honestly, I had no idea I was supposed to keep working the same show. After Adelaide, I figured I’d put it to bed and move on. But my Adelaide producer gave me a reality check: “You’ve got to come back again and again. After about five years, you’ll start seeing real momentum — full houses, strong reviews, word of mouth.” That was a big lesson. Don’t count your chickens after the first festival. This is a slow build.

I’ve also learned I can do my own publicity — although let’s be real, a bit of help wouldn’t go astray. This year I’m doing four festivals in four weeks, which means an avalanche of posters, flyers, press emails… and mistakes. Just yesterday, I sent out a batch of emails to journalists, only to be politely informed that my links went to the wrong festival — and my website redirected to an iPhone ad. Jesus. So yes, maybe I do need help.

The biggest lesson, though, is resilience. You need a thick skin in this game. Some audiences are small — really small — and that can be demoralising if you let it. But I’ve learned that if even one person shows up and truly feels something, then I’ve done what I came to do. That’s the goal. That’s the win.

Tell us about your show.

So let’s begin with the pitch on the show: What do you do when your husband leaves you for your teenage goddaughter? You dye your wedding dress black, write some killer songs and make a show.

That’s exactly what I did.

This is my real story — raw, painful, sometimes funny, and absolutely true. In this one-hour performance, I bare it all on stage through original songs and spoken word. I co-wrote the script with my director, Tessa Souter, who originally came on board to help edit the book version of the show.

I met Tessa during COVID in 2021. She’s also a jazz singer and was performing at Soapbox Gallery, a venue I was running in Brooklyn with Jimmy Greenfield. We were one of the only places still hosting live music during the pandemic — live-streaming from our listening room six nights a week. Tessa came in, we clicked immediately. She’s a Londoner, I’m an Aussie — there was something in the shared humour and outsider perspective that sealed the deal. We knew we were going to be best mates.

The show premiered in its current form at New York’s 59E59 Theaters, then went on to Edinburgh Fringe in 2024, followed by Adelaide, Brighton, Eastbourne, Manchester, Durham, and Camden — and now it’s come full circle, back to Edinburgh.

After this run, I’m heading to a festival in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I’m based in New York now, and in 2025–26 I’m hoping to focus more of the tour across the U.S. It’s time to plant deeper roots on home turf.

What should your audience see at the festivals after they’ve seen your show?

Her Raving Mind
I’ve heard this is intense and honest and I’m drawn to anything that tackles mental health without sugarcoating it. I feel like this one will leave a mark — in the best way.

Jane Does Comedy
She’s got a rep for being seriously funny and sharp — I’m hoping for smart laughs with a bit of bite. Also, I love a woman owning the stage with zero apologies.

You Oughta Be In Pictures
I’m a sucker for film nostalgia and stories about dreams that don’t quite go to plan. This one sounds heartfelt, and a little glam. Curious to see where it goes.

Gay Disabled Vegan
I mean — what a title! I’m in already. I love shows that tear up expectations and serve truth with a side of wit. Can’t wait to see what this one brings.

Magic Faraway Cabaret
The name alone makes me want to wander in. I want glitter, absurdity, and something that feels like a dream you can’t quite explain the next day.

Shit Show
Yes. Just yes. If you’ve ever had a year (or decade) that felt like a disaster movie, this feels like the perfect place to laugh and cry about it.

Dark Folk Music
Moody music is my comfort zone — give me melancholy melodies and lyrics that bite. I’m going for the atmosphere and to maybe brood a little in the corner.

The Superkrauts
They sound completely bonkers in the best way. I love a show where you just surrender to the madness and enjoy the ride. Also — costumes!

Rebecca Maree & Friends
I want to go to this one to feel held. There’s something really warm about the idea of a musical hangout — real songs, real people, nothing flashy, just heart.

The Creative Martyrs
I’ve heard they’re gothic, satirical, and musically brilliant — I don’t even need to know more. I want to see them just because they sound like they’ve crawled out of a Kurt Weill fever dream.

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