Concrete were kindly invited to Hippodrome Origins festival, the result of a pioneering new work development programme for creatives in the West Midlands region, led by Hippodrome’s New Work Department. This small but mighty team have been quietly supporting new writing and emerging creatives in Birmingham since 2023, with scratch night ‘Writer’s Block’, accessible rehearsal spaces and dedicated Artists’ Lounge to name but a few, so to have a jam-packed week of workshops and performances allowed for a further-reaching audience see the 8-strong cohort, and the department themselves, strut their stuff. 

The pieces these individuals have created are a testament to the breadth of possibility made available by the foundation of theatre. Creative backgrounds of playwrights, dancers, poets and novelists were selected as the inaugural group and all presented a work in progress in the Patrick Studio, bringing their personal flavour to the juicy rich stew. I chatted with Grace Barrington at the launch, who later in the week kicked off the 4-night run of double-bills with ‘Money For Nothing’ and asked about the Origins journey - the scheme itself had run for 18-months and this time investment alone made it a unique offering. Grace said the focus on craft and honing your practice was always front and centre, whether that was through workshops, writing or watching other shows but even though the main motive was making, sharing it with a full audience still felt a bit nerve-wracking.

I was back on Friday to see Zakariye with ‘Pretend Like It’s Calm’ and Tina Hofman’s ‘The Body I See Is Also Mine’ - on the face of it, two very different shows, the former a 1-man 1-act-standup hybrid on grief and against-the-clock baking (I think that’s a fair description), the latter an abstract electro-fuelled rumination on memory and mothers. There was, however, a tenderness running through them both, and the more I pulled the thread, the more similarities slipped out of the seams: the magnitude of ritual, the exploration of family as identity and the use of additional languages paired these two beautifully. Zak later confirmed the New Work team had very carefully matched all double-bills and it seems this care is indicative of the Origins programme as a whole.

With the cliff-hanger-like framing of the pieces as works in progress, I look forward to seeing how they evolve further within the ever-expanding Birmingham creative ecosystem.


Origins Festival ran from 11-16th May 2026 at Birmingham Hippodrome. Find out more here.

The full cohort included: Amerah Saleh, Elizabeth O’Connor, Grace Barrington, Jaz Morrison, Louis Wharton, Nathan Sebastian Lafayette, Tina Hofman and Zakariye

The second Friday of this year’s Flatpack met me, unfortunately, on tired terms - I’d spent the previous day convincing myself to avoid the cool-sounding events to have a £5 pornstar martini from Kennedy’s in Moseley. I’d perhaps believed that my search to get a brilliant film out of the festival was just as fruitless as that martini. In the wake of the festival I’d say now I was correct: what I was looking for wasn’t a film at all, but rather a reminder of Flatpack’s mantra - it’s not about the screen. At midday, I went to Secret Space in Digbeth for the exhibition, and had my eyes flooded with images from the exhibition A Cage in Search of a Nightingale.

A Cage… is a compilation of unused takes and footage from the making of The Colour of Pomegranates, in a triptych format. The use of three screens allowed not only for periods of sensory overload - when each image was starkly different and yet infuriatingly detailed -  but also created dripfeeding of pattern-making potential. Occasionally, each screen would show a different take of the same scene - the same glass, for instance, splashed with the same paint by the same mysterious figure, with three unmistakably different results, the paint oozing down different avenues on the pane. On other occasions, The triptych split different angles of one central image - triangulating a rich tapestry between its close detail and geometric potential from afar. In those moments, the triptych felt like avenues into parallel universes - incrementally different experiences of one shared vision. 

The triptych used up the whole of Secret Space’s largest room - a space that usually fits a thousand, bustling in the heats of a boxing match or political rally. Here now, I was alone to contend with the ominous noises conjured by Elvin Brandhi and Tigran Mansurian’s collaborative composition, filling the room with a hollowing moan.  

What solidified the experience as a highlight, though, was when I wasn’t alone - when those sounds were joined by the babbling of another viewer behind me. A baby’s naive, non-verbal scats began halfway through my experience, its tones bouncing across the room with the same echo and mystery as Brandhi’s soundscape. Frequent enough to feel like some immersive experience, sparse enough to remain un-annoying, I found myself trying to figure out that baby’s experience - seeing through the eyes of me, its carer, itself. It’s a benefit that A Cage…, even with my knowledge of Colour of Pomegranates, felt like a womb of surreality, beautifully new images always surrounding, offering something new. I was sharing a vision of the past and future, wondering how long that beauty would remain in the brain of a 6-month old.


Flatpack Festival ran from the 9th to the 16th of May around Digbeth, with a hub at Secret Space. Find their next events here.

Layla Tutt’s latest release, Machine Gun, is a PJ Harvey infused rock song about the rise of facism. 

I attended Layla Tutt’s headline at the Yard, a little utilised venue, directly opposite the new Kings Heath train station. The Yard itself is most commonly used as a sort of garden centre, with a small cafe (briefly painted a garish orange by your’s truly) selling mushroom coffee. Despite Layla Tutt’s rock roots, the Lofi community feel of the venue was perfectly suited for the event.

With fairy lights strung across the rafters and cushions laid for audience members, Layla Tutt and Angus Sharp (Bass) played a stripped back set, that maintained the powerful voicing of their full band work.

I thought Moseley had long been forgotten as the hippy stronghold of the 1970s, but Layla Tutt proved me wrong. There were dreadlocks, sandals, crystals, greebos, hippies young and old, clambering to fit into the tiny Yard. I felt as if I had slipped back in time (circa maybe 2007 I’d say?).

Of the track Machine Gun, Layla said “I won’t tell you who this one’s about…….ok it’s about that facist Donald Trump!!!”  

Interjections like this make it incredibly hard not to like Layla and her band. Their charming stage presence combined with their retro styling make them one to watch in the Birmingham music scene.



Listen to Layla Tutt's 'Machine Gun' here!

Alternatively, find out when Layla is playing next via her Instagram!