Garyswordz

And so it was not so much farewell – as adieu. The final Rhymes, which had brought out probably the best attendance in memory turned out to be the final Rhymes in this format. It was a fitting swansong. The Bill reminded us all of what had made the event a success in the past. Eight performers, seven of them local, brought out coteries of their own supporters and several poets not performing on the night happy to exchange poetic scuttlebutt. Long standing compere Lorna Meehan looked delighted, and a little overwhelmed, by the turn-out.

The first half required your first name to be James, the first of whom was James Barnett, a young cataloguing librarian from the University of Birmingham. His milieu is the dark, brooding and introspective – quite handy if you work in a library, and he did it well. Always accomplished, impeccably rehearsed and confidently delivered, he visited Discipline, Fidelity, The Head Girl and Visiting Hour at the Care Home. Curiously one poem was Untitled, which I would have thought would have been anathema to a librarian. His imagery was invariably meticulously crafted, the alliteration avoiding cliché. Yet as a whole, I felt it veered as a set a little too heavily towards bedsit angst, something which a re-jigged set, and experience, will easily redress.

James the Second was James Bunting. He had a game plan. It worked. It comprised four parts of around four minutes each, the last of which was entitled Introduction, neat eh? Part one, Paradise was a lyrical personal cri de coeur with shades of Milton’s Paradise Lost and Dante’s Inferno ingredients in a heady, satisfying, rich, mix. Part two, Politicians was the most edgy and satisfying. His lament that Kerouac, Dylan, Lennon and Ginsberg were from a fading generation and that no contemporary young performers were picking up the baton of dissent struck a chord which resonated with young and old in the audience. Promises was a bold, bare paean to a wicked girl and offered a light change of course before he hit the home straight with Introduction , an amusing coda a compelling statement of poetic manifesto with the memorable line that he was, “Older than when he started this poem” a defiant invocation for us all to get on and do something with our lives. I loved it.

Lorna Meehan explained that the New Rhymes may feature extended poetic performance from individuals and ensembles. As if anticipating this turn of events, the Decadent Divas offered us a vernissage of things to come with their four part, twenty five minute piece, debuted at Artsfest a few weeks ago. It featured Charlie Jordan, Maggie Doyle, Laura Yates and Lorna herself. Shakespeare decided that there were seven ages of man, the Divas have opted for four stages of woman by articulating the voice of women from four succeeding decades. The packed house in an intimate atmosphere clearly energised the Diva’s, with some skilful editing, new material , shorter soliloquies and more dialogue enhancing and improving this well written and entertaining poetic drama. To date the women have articulated universal observations about their time of life. The opportunities for them to build up character and have them observing contemporary issues gives this ensemble plenty to go at. I want to learn more about the individual Divas, and I am sure we will.

A varied bill has always been a strength of Rhymes and David Calcutt offered a change of direction, and pace. He split his performance into two parts, the first incorporated writing inspired by his work with those experiencing dementia, the second was a series of poems about curlews inspired by a recent visit to Laugharne, home to Dylan Thomas. Few would consider a series of poems on curlews, but few observe nature with the clarity and softness of touch of David, as we shared the exhilaration of the twists and turns of this magnificent bird. Inevitably poems about dementia will include the downbeat, but what shone through was the humanity of these poems which were sad, yet celebrated the human spirit too as the sclerotic effects of this disease take hold. Beautifully constructed, and inspiring.

To close the evening Naomi Paul took the stage, a wry, dry, witty performer who takes her craft very seriously. Deadpan humour is her speciality, and it worked a treat tonight, drawing the audience in as they waited for a twist – how good would she be alongside Jack Dee? And she does do stand-up comedy too. But her craft is as much in the words as it may be with any joke that she delivers so performance poetry suits her well, an audience ready to appreciate the whole, not simply waiting for a gag. The Catch about a past lover was particularly popular with the women in the audience, as was Displacement Activity and Leaving the House ( she had clearly witnessed my wife’s ability to make provisions for a trip into town rival Mallory’s assault on Everest). She finished with my personal favourite, the tale of her personal odyssey to travel the Hippy Trail only to discover that it was all over with “The Grey Rabbit Bus”. Not even the lusty , booze and pharmaceutically fuelled antics of her fellow travellers could provide her with relief as: “ I am English”

The final Rhymes will be followed by……………………………………… an end of year Slam in November, and a New Rhymes in the New Year- check the Facebook page for details.
21/9/11

The Shifnal Festival is a vibrant affair in a village seeking to make its mark, and succeeding. Ken Dodd opened the twelve day run of paid for and free events. Ian McMillan was appearing on the Wednesday, but on Tuesday a healthy crowd turned out at the Oddfellows Public House for a combination of headline performance from Simon Lee, Emma Purshouse and Mark Niel – our Three Poets (who) Walk into a Pub.

Mark is a stalwart of the Performance Poetry and Slam scene, I first saw him perform a couple of years ago when he won the Muck Wenlock Slam, and tonight he was on his usual effervescent , ebullient form, opening up with his signature My Name is Niel through the Lozell’s Prayer and beyond. Few would imagine that having your name misspelled in a bank could result in an assault charge – but for Mark, it might!

Black Country girl Emma Purshouse was on home turf and breezed through her set of humorous observational and character based verse. Whether it be the wisecracking quips from builders to passing by women, the perils of choosing the wrong Welsh town to have an automobile accident in, or neighbours with twitching curtains, Emma has a story to tell about it. Wry and always warm.

Solicitor Simon Lee opened both the evening and the headline slots. His skill lies not in the verbose and grandiose, but in concise pithy comment on the world around him. Whether it be Robert Preston’s skills as an economics commentator, Patrick Moore’s skills as an astronomer or Richard Whitely’s skills as a Countdown presenter, Simon has a poem for them, and very well they went down too.

Local poets were strongly in evidence too, none more so than festival organiser and Marc Bolan expert Tony Stringfellow who entertained with Politician (not Cream’s version!). Lyn Curtis lyrically wrote of Cardigan Bay, Steve Harrison predicted a riot with Words and Jack Edwards stole his mentor’s opening line, before launching into In the Pub. My favourite open mic performance of the night came from Jane James whose poem Snoring combined the touching and comic in just the right measure.

With a strong bill of mainstream events it was a delight to see the success of what amounted to a Fringe event drawing in the travelling poetic hard core ,local poetry aficionados, and a fair few people having a pint who wanted to see what all this poetry lark was about. They, like everyone, enjoyed themselves.

20/9/11

The subtle assimilation of poetry into mainstream entertainment was much in evidence on this bill with three out of the four main acts having a poetic background, each artist taking the form into different areas. A good turn-out in very agreeable surroundings provided a strong platform for them all to strut their very different stuff .

A variety bill requires a skilled compere to draw together the disparate elements and tonight we had one in comedienne Iszi Lawrence. A southerner parachuted into parochial Black Country territory, she needed to find her feet fast . Fortunately she did so by spotting a school age girl in the audience, Katy . This provided an ongoing connection and theme as the evening advanced ,even though it may have caused Lawrence to temper her material slightly, and Katy to wish that her aunt hadn’t seated them at the front! Her themes were safe; awkward flat mates, the perils of living with your mum, buying your first alcoholic drink, and her penchant for Alan Rickman’s dulcet tones, (and beyond!). That easy manner was just what was required , as she breezed easily through her stand-up comedy between each act.

Heather Wastie is an artistic polymath well known on the Midlands circuit, tonight she performed as Montserrat Carbonarra, an opera singer whose orchestra was sadly otherwise engaged. But she was not going to let that put her off. A beguiling mix of comedy, light verse and………….operatic singing, she entertained and amused as the opening act, the highlight of which was when she had to improvise as an oboe too, as the oboe player also was unable to be present. The only disappointment being that the audience was ready for more when she finished – but that’s opera singers for you!

Performing a poetry set in front of an audience on a variety bill is no ordinary task. Fortunately, Jo Bell is no ordinary poet. The current holder of the salaciously titled “Bilston Love Slam”, she titillated with her risqué material (all in the best possible taste , of course), and engaged with the sincerity and authenticity of the rest. A festival regular and Director of National Poetry Day she knows how to play her audience Topics including disastrous dates, internet dating, sailors and computers were comfortable crowd pleasers, but there was no dumbing down. Context , an assembly of discordant phrases was sharp and clever, Urban Mermaid her tour de force. The latter brilliantly juxtaposed the urban grime of the Manchester Canal by Piccadilly Station, with the myth of the Mermaids in a piece of startling, and inspired, imagery.

The second half commenced with an act that had, unlike Montserrat Carbonarra, remembered their instruments, in this case a double bass – and a triangle. Paul Eccentric and Ian Newman are The Anti-Poet, a beat duo who combine comedy, poetry and music in a winning, idiosyncratic mix. Paul is the voice ( and triangle player), Ian slaps the double bass and plays the straight man in the comedy. Having recently played twenty eight gigs in seven days they were unsurprisingly well rehearsed, opening with the defiant We Are Artists before taking in the trials of doorstep evangelists, fame with Overnight Success ,and black humour with I Hope It isn’t Anyone We Know. Original in material, and striking in appearance, the crowd loved them.

Headlining was Steve Best who blasted through an initially bewildering but ultimately triumphant set. Ablaze with energy he appeared to get through half an hour’s material in the first half minute as he manically told jokes, performed tricks and made faces. Once we had time to adjust, things began to settle. We were watching a very accomplished visual comedian using props and gadgets combining slapstick, magic and stand-up. Balloons disappeared into his mouth, only for them to reappear with hankies from “the other end”, puns and one liners ricocheted around the room, and he had time to play the guitar, rather well. Very quickly the room reverberated to pretty much continuous laughter as one joke piled onto another with shades of Steve Martin, Charlie Chaplin and Tommy Cooper all rolled into one hugely enjoyable 21st century package. A worthy bill-topper and a big success on the night.

A variety night with variety, but producing a coherent whole, promoter Emma Purshouse has set herself quite a standard with this annual series of events.

17/9/11

Poetry can be about pretty much anything, and so this evening proved, with subject matter confined only by the imagination of the poets. When most people see a post box they think of letters, bills they have forgotten to pay or birthday cards which must be purchased and sent. Teenage children might see it as a useful confined space to place an ignited firework . A poet sees beyond this though.

Stephanie Lunn has weightier matters on her mind, such as the problems of posting desserts – trifles, custard, that sort of thing. And then there is the matter of meat. Neatly sliced ham should be okay, mince less so, the gravy gets everywhere. Finally ,the question of posting beards, particularly when the man (or woman) is attached. Do sheep worry about the existentialist dilemmas explored by Satre and Kierkegaard? Of course they do, and then there are toasters………..Although most of us had not given these matters much thought, Steph has, and the world is a better place for it. Yet she does not simply deal with the surreal, The Camera Man , about a photographer who snatched a shot of a less than happy bride was wonderfully grounded, and resonant.

Andy Biddulph blazed through Economic Stability with a clarity that Greek Finance minister Evangelos Venizolos would have found quite useful ,and explored frontal lobe activity with an enthusiasm which 19th century Psychiatric Surgeons would have found heart-warming. Some poets perfect the art of “less is more”, Bert Flitcroft and Janet Jenkins are two such poets. Bert wrote amusingly about Poetry workshops and the Busy Ones, Janet told of cats, tennis as a metaphor for romance in Forty Love and the aspirations of a want-to –be Heavy Metal singer. Both poets were pithy, economic, and fun.

Light and Darkness is Ian Ward’s current collection, but he also debuted work for future publication exploring lost cities in Mesopotamia, and the withered wychwoods of Alaska before the poignancy of Dear John and the film noir influenced, Just Another Rainy Night. Mal Dewhirst relishes rediscovering lost or forgotten poets, and often rediscovers them at a rate of knots. August Stramm, the German WW1 poet appears to have won him over more compellingly than most however, as he has majored on him several times in recent appearances and has now taken to performing entire poems of Stramm’s in German , as well as in translation. He is right to do so. German war poetry has been all but ignored in this country. The sentiments are universal, the timbre of the words chillingly authentic. Anyone who owns a German first world war uniform must surely expect a call shortly! An intriguing coda to his performance was The Archaeological Strata of Polesworth Abbey, a clever piece on the dig in progress there in which the lines on the page can also be accessed as a dig accesses different layers and truths.

Terri and Ray Jolland entertained with their customary amusing blend of light verse and drama, organiser Gary Carr eased the evening along interspersing introductions with some very strong poems of his own after which we marvelled at how his daughter had survived the mishaps of his parenting! Before the Briefing stood out for me, a wonderful, atmospheric account of the factory floor before the night shift commences. Spoken Worlds plays again on Friday 14th October, and a tip that John Cooper Clarke is playing the Flowerpot PH, Derby on the 21st, a week after.
16/9/11