Just back from Cardiff

Just back from Cardiff and performing as a guest act at the Dickensian Twist Slam as hosted by the unstoppable Mab Jones with her boundless energy and charm, at the Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff, to celebrate the 200th centenary of Dickens and also World Book Day. We were there as Widsith and Deor's Monster Theatre! I.e. storytelling theatre but with a cast of 90% Monsters (bodymasks), presenting our new adaptation of Charles Dicken's Christmas story 'The Chimes'.
   It was good weather for travelling, despite a quick hail storm before Bristol! And then over the Severn and Wye Rivers, with what felt like driving over the Sea, the bridge was so vast, and then at last into South Wales. It had been far too long! and was good to be back (I used to go to South Wales a lot at one stage, although knew Swansea rather than Cardiff). Surprisingly, (having spent a lot of time formerly also in North Wales, and knowing West Wales a little and the Marches pretty well) I had never yet been to Cardiff but always meant to go, so this was the perfect opportunity. The weather cleared up, we found the Arts Centre and parked down a quiet road, and then it was off to have a quick look round before the evening show. Cardiff had a Castle which looked a complete mixture of styles! A wonderfully eccentric timeline through architectural fashions, and the city centre seemed full of interesting arcades, packed with  small independent shops. We passed open air market stalls, one of which had the kind of stall I run myself, except that it sold chocolates: The signs modest, to-the-point and ever-knocked-over by the shy proprietor, who had toasting tongs to pick the chocolates up, which weren't ideal for the task. The goods themselves were large and square and evidently about taste and not fancy swirls or wrappers. The brown paper bags to put them in were also, purely functional - the emphasis was definitely on the goods themselves! And they were indeed, some of the finest chocolates I have ever had - amaretto and coffee were the chosen flavours, in plain chocolate, and they were freshly picked off the chocolate tree. Divine. No sales pitch, no fripperies, just some of the best-tasting chocolates a gourmet could wish for. The Bute Park looked lovely, we passed a view of the expansive waters leading to Cardiff Bay, and when at last it was time for a drink, we discovered that Wetherspoons had taken over a beautiful theatre building, The Prince of Wales. It had split levels with a modern but sympathetic and stylish spiral staircase, balconies and boxes with huge red velvet curtains fringed with gold in alcoves, a balcony above tiered with theatre seating, a bar where the stage had once been (it looked like), curtain still above where the  proscenium arch must have been, a theatrical frieze, some striking - plasterwork? decoration over the proscenium arch as well, stained glass windows in unexpected places, an airy roof of exposed timbers over the upstairs bar, and altogether was (as well as a very busy pub) a magical space! And then (after a brief supper) it was back to the pleasant, airy, Chapter Arts Centre to unload the cargo of Monsters and meet Mab Jones, who had so kindly liked our Monster Theatre videos. There was a brief open mike, and then the slam proper, with people interpreting the C19th inspired element in a whole variety of different ways. To listing as many titles of Dickens' novels in a poem as possible (though I could've sworn he left out Bleak House!) to tacking the author's character, to lauding the age in which he lived in wry rhyme, to an almost dancer-like recitation/performance of a C19th poet (Browning), and many other takes, some more or less loosely having a nod to the theme. It was a very tough set of decisions for the randomly picked five judges, as at least five contenders were equally good, they just had very differing styles, so in a sense, it felt wrong to pick one above the others. But the most slam-friendly professional did just win, as something about the confidence that lots of bookings and experience brings tipped him upward in the judge's eyes, understandably, and he did have the most stage presence. Moreover draws can be so messy! And absolutely impossible between so many. But was still a pity to see folks who'd done so well in the first round get knocked out, and the five turn into just three, but the more slams I see, the more I just feel this is the nature of the beast. It's very rare that I've thought 'yes it should be x' and then it was, at the end. So I couldn't help but feel for all the finalists, but then it says much for the quality of the performances elicited by the slam! And of Mab Jones ability to attract such talent. She kept the pace moving with great aplomb - no mean feat with so many contestants, an open mike, AND two guest acts! Our own adaptation of 'The Chimes' seemed to go down very well, with myself as Toby, and Deor doing amazing quick-changes as all three aristocrats AND the goblin of the bells, all with bodymasks, three of them huge, and two with light up eyes. There was a heap of generous applause and I and Deor got lots of kind compliments, Deor about the masks (people just love them), and myself about the storytelling. 'I've never seen two person storytelling done in that way - it's great!' was a comment from one of the poets that left me glowing. 'Brilliant! That was spot on!' said one woman from the audience - I wish I'd said more in reply than just a sheepish 'Hey thank you!' but you always think of something more to the purpose long afterward! The evening finished with a Vaudeville act dressed as Queen Victoria with lots of showmanship, and then it was time for the show to end, and 'so to bed' as Pepys used to say!
   Huge thanks to the wonderful Mab Jones for having us!

Bristol Acoustic Night

At last I got to Bristol Acoustic Night! The much-acclaimed, long running, and positively legendary acoustic evening at the Halo Cafe Bar in Stokes Croft, Bristol. I feature it regularly in Spoken/Written, have heard so much about it, always meant to go, but things kept cropping up, until at last, this half term, with a day and a half free, and one of those being a requisite Monday, at last I was free to go! Stokes Croft itself is an interesting area - so covered in graffiti that I wondered if it was a partial legacy of the graffiti festival which I'd heard about? There were a couple of images signed Banksy, and some very colourful pieces, some pretty clever at angles to trick the eye or reflecting the street, and one near a large crossing that looked as if was probably wonderful from a distance/the other side of the road, but the 'bigger picture' was, quite literally, not available close-up. It either looked (the whole area) terrifically arty or like a vision of street gang apocalypse! However, the trendy bars and stylish boutiques and shabby chic charity shops gave the lie to the latter and underlined the former. We found an especially comfortable cafe bar called The Social, with red leather sofas, fairylights, exposed brickwork, solid wooden tables and fantastic coffee, with free biscotti - some of the best I'd had, full of orange and lemon flavours.
   Then it was time to head on down to Bristol Acoustic Night, and the Halo was a smart restaurant/cafe/bar, with quite a large lounge at the back, where the Night was held. It had tables and chairs, and sofas as well, a well defined stage area with black backdrop and logo poster, professional PA and its own sound technician, reliable mikes, ambient lighting, and generally I could see at once why it was so well known. A great venue of good size and ideally equipped. Introductions and compering were done by Andi Langford Woods and Julian Ramsey Wade, with great aplomb and flair. The latter punctuating the proceedings with some heartfelt performance poetry including a very fine love poem at the end. Andi was charming and he and Hazel Hammond the tattoo poet ended the evening with a comic duo dialogue poem story. Acts were of a very high quality, but I must just single out Luke Blake and Guilia, the latter an excellent guitarist and the former with a really lovely voice, Hokkers a very talented singer/songwriter with a great vocal range, and Pink Sniper, whom I was rather surprised not to have come across before as he was a deadly political performance poet. Great performance, had presence, and the work was fantastic - blow after blow of sophisticated and punchy analysis of pop culture problems and attacks on mainstream notions with unremitting accuracy and thoughtfulness all wrapped with quirk, truth and terrific delivery (from memory of course). Just my cup of tea. And I agreed with him too!
   The Stand Up Philosopher gave a brilliant set - Foucault's History of Sexuality Vol. 1 condensed into under ten minutes, and it went down extremely well - he had some lovely comments, not least from a guy who said 'That was brilliant - I don't know much about Foucault, you must tell me in the interval.' And when I came back from the bar in said interval, they were indeed deep in conversation! Also Luke Blake (doing a PhD in - performing arts? and philosophy) said it was the 'most perfect expression' of the combination he'd seen. It was superb and the video is up on the 'Withywheel' YouTube Channel (the channel for all artists from the Cartwheels Collective).
   I did a sequence from a poetry performance called 'The Maze of Love' and it seemed to go down well too. All in all, a great night with some truly fine talents, and some I'd really like to see again! Well done everyone, and big thanks to Andi and Julian for having us!

That Time of Year Again...

Well after the Christmas and New Year break, it's that time of year again...Yep, time to go hell for leather on all the venues and event promoters whom you started bothering last September. A handful in September, as it was still the high from the last season. Then a few in October. More in November, and you always mean to do as many in December...but even if you don't flag, mysteriously offices shut earlier, folks are on leave, or simply it's more answerphone than staffed phones... And now it's time to hot up the pace, ringing all those whom you've e-mailed and who haven't yet replied, reminding those who've sounded interested, trying to get hold of those who've mentioned bookings in order to elicit firm dates (not least because of those who are asking when you're free - of course you as yet have no idea!). E-mailing again all those who've lost your details when they were away or off sick, and phoning new places to ask whom to contact. Filling in online forms for various festivals, and generally gearing up be a stalker - well, that's how it feels. My intentions are honourable - I just want some work, but now I know what days x works, when y has been on holiday for how long, and when they've been off sick, that z takes long lunches, that v never gets into the office before 10, that u always leaves early, and that o is only ever available on a Thursday... If I had been employed to check up on these folks about the amount of time they are actually in their offices, I'd have had a fat cheque or two by now! Sorry, I couldn't help being silly for a moment there, but it IS demoralizing trying to get hold of very busy people to get an answer to your question, and that being one of importance to you. It does one good to see the funny side from time to time.
   I was just wondering how many times I'd already rung x and y, when my co-performer Deor reminded me just how many times it took me to eventually get through to a certain big festival curator last season. Because it's only when you've caught their fancy or captured their imagination, whipped up their interest, that they give you their mobile number, and start calling you back. THEN communication becomes smoother and easier, simpler. But - you have to get to that point first. When you're booked and performing, everything feels right, and afterwards, with the festival programme or venue brochure tucked safely under your arm, you forget all about the huge amount of admin. - and I don't mind admin.! - but I mean the soul-destroying chipping away at the rock face, and the feeling of dogged warding off of despair that it induces - you forget about all that stuff that you had to do in order to make it happen. And it feels as if it was always going to be, that you would get these gigs.
   It wasn't of course. If it hadn't been for all that hard graft, it would never have got arranged. Promoters are busy. Festival organizers have to deal with dozens of acts, sometimes hundreds, depending on the size of their marquee, field or area. You have to convince these folks that they ought to remember you, that you will be great, and remind them of that.
    I only remember the curator ringing me back and everything going from there, negotiating the fee and parking permits. 'No' said Deor - 'Twenty phonecalls it took to get to that stage.' 'Twenty?' I gasped. But when he said it, I DID recollect - yes, unless you're at one of those gigs who just book you time and time again, that's the sort of effort we're talking about. The thing to keep telling yourself? 'Something WILL happen. I MUST just keep on'. And remember - it was like this last time, and the time before that... Call it the 'January Blues'.

Word Command Winter Panto!

Time for Christmas shows and the Epicentre Book Cafe had a special Word Command last Thursday - the the Word Command Winter Panto! Hosted by and starring Bryce Dumont (as Bing Crosby, he was modelling it on past television specials!), Lucy Lepchani, Chris Brooks, Robert Garnham, ourselves Widsith and Deor Storytelling Theatre and others. Everyone had a Christmas twist, often comical, (Chris's classic audience-join-in rhyming was extended to bring in the festive season!) often thought-provoking (Lucy reminded everyone that the elderly are simply folks like everybody else who have lived longer - and had some asking for drugs of the illegal variety as a present!), and sometimes outre (Robert's surreal 'Wardrobe Man' and flashing-lights-with-antlers hat!). It all made for a delightfully seasonal mixture, as Bryce read out apologies of various Hollywood folks of the 'Golden Age of Cinema' to add to the fun.
   We did our new adaptation of Charles Dickens' 'The Chimes', one of his Christmas stories (but one which is told less often than 'A Christmas Carol', with some of our latest bodymasks. (Deor has been busy the last two months!). So Mint the Mouse Troll was Chief Goblin, Nosferatu acted as the Prime Minister, the King of the World played a merchant banker, and so on. I just played the one character - Toby, the poor message runner whom the story circles around. It was about fifteen minutes long, but due to those who unfortunately couldn't make it (the weather wasn't pleasant, with a lot of spray, rain and sleet on unlit roads), we did have time for it. And it went down very well! Folks were extremely kind about it, and we were very pleased with how it went. It's always so nice to have the opinions of fellow professionals who see a lot of acts and performances! So it really means something when they give praise. Big thanks to Bryce for having us, organizing it, hosting it all and making great coffee! And to Lucy, Chris and Robert for being so great to watch and saying such nice things! A Merry Christmas One and All!

The End of the Line?

   Spoken/Written is in real financial difficulty. With so little money coming in, it hardly makes sense to spend the time putting it together which could be spent trying to work in other ways. For the sake of those who have paid, Spoken/Written will probably carry on until around next Easter. But after that – if it continues at all, it will be a reduced version. If Spoken/Written continues, it will just have to feature more news about the Collective – the arts network which hosts it – in order to have a reason to be. and to evolve as one of its early models – the Spiel Unlimited newsletter – evolved.

   My initial impulse, years ago as Editor was to run Spoken/Written Bulletin S.W. – as it was funded by the Arts Council through tortuous grant applications until July of last year – as some sort of Public Service Information station. Anonymously – I thought it would be somehow a trifle tacky to tell people it was actually edited by a poet, writer, performer and proof reader, themselves on the look out for gigs and freelance work. I imagined this to be somewhat self-serving and tawdry, so it was issued as if by magic like an automated system, with the aim of benefiting as many people interested in words as possible. After much nagging from people who were surprised to discover that I edited it, or that I still had the illusion that it was like the BBC, I gave in and started writing Editorials. At first with the idea of communicating things of interest which I had found out in the course of putting an Edition together. I suppose I thought people would feel gratitude for or desire to help something or someone so disinterested and virtuous (!). I have always suffered from too much C18th/19th century novel reading. (Whom did I think I was? Monsieur du Pont from The Mysteries of Udolpho?!)

   But I have learned a lot since then. That unless you ask for aid, no one will give you it. That people think that because something ought to be funded, that means that morally it must be in some meta-sphere, and hence no one need bother. That generating goodwill is about more than providing a service, even if people say they value it. In fact that that it is often about selling yourself and your lifestory or quirks as a 'brand' (something that I at least find hard as the words 'brook, spirit and bear' spring to mind - although if I could grit my teeth, I suppose I ought). And 'getting your name out there'. Something that people can feel a 'personal loyalty' towards.

   Finally, as Spoken/Written earned so little this month and has had no feedback for months, I must assume that some things also run their course. That, for a mixture of reasons, the main one of which is probably technology, that it is no longer as needed or as useful to folks as once it was. I have also learned that some kinds of idealism are just plain dumb, and that if no one understands what you’re doing or why, then you won’t get any credit for it and so really should not expect any. I guess I am just feeling 'disenchanted'. But then working on something for six years, founding it, nurturing it, getting a feeling of worth from it, and then looking at it coming to an end was never going to be easy. I've learnt a lot, got better at admin, got published in an anthology and a few zines, including my all time favourite, 20x20 Magazine, and been offered the odd gig, all as a result of Spoken/Written. I've also gained some much appreciated freelance editing work and grants consultancies. Three Arts Council grants (though stretched too far and perfectly reasonable pay has been drawn out to pittance). And a lot of experience in research, 'the scene', how internet searches work (invaluable) and all kinds of work skills and confidences arising out of them. It's been a ride. And perhaps most of all, I've had some very kind praise from subscribers and donations from those willing to dig into their pockets to support something they considered worthwhile - a zine which I created. And that has been very moving. I just wish I could have (as it's a remote-working job done almost all via e-mail) met more of those lovely folks in person. Well, I guess Spoken/Written says 'Thanks for the fish' guys. Take care and good night. 

Exeter's Duckaroo Club

Last night's Duckaroo Club at the Bike Shed Theatre in Exeter was an intimate affair. (Its predecessor was the Exeter Catweazle Club and was held at the Speakeasy upstairs at Oddfellows, but for some reason many of the branches of the Club were closed by the organizers of the original Club, and so the Exeter branch metamorphosized into the Duckaroo Club, and is now held at the Bike Shed Theatre.) It's on after the show in the auditorium every Thursday night, and actually the format really works! Far from starting too late, it has a 'from 8.30pm' informal get-together in the stylish yet comfy bar of the Bike Shed, and once everyone's had time to relax and have a drink or something to eat, and actually catch up with each other (which one so often doesn't! having so many folks to say hello to at such events) properly, and then roll in at 9.30 to the stage and actual theatre. To my amazement, the set from the play was still there - well, thinking about it, during a run, of course it would be. But it meant that the thoughtful and theatrical designer backdrop was all ours for the evening, not to mention the lighting. I've been to cabarets and slams in the same theatre with bold lighting that was just functional - but this was warm, atmospheric and elegant. And, as performers, it seemed to me that all of us responded to having a proper 'stage environment' to perform in, by pulling out an extra stop. Despite clashing with two other popular events (the Blue Walnut in Torquay's Performance Poetry night and Uncut Poets at the Exeter Phoenix, which would always be the case with a weekly format) and so there not being many of us there, there was definitely the 'pin drop' ambiance for which the original Catweazle was famous. The host, gifted musician and singer Kimwei Westbury started the evening with a 'Symphony for Happiness' on guitar (which she plays as percussive as well) and started with a bang! A beautiful piece, hypnotic, absorbing, and like much of her work, neither rock/pop nor contemporary/classical but a wonderful and engaging mixture of the two. Arty, modernist, yet also accessible, harmonious and brilliantly danceable, it, like Bjork's music (the only comparison I could think of) is seriously intelligent acoustic pop, (I wouldn't describe it as folk) and doing something different and genuinely experimental whilst being really melodic. We then had the treat of the classically trained Stephen Yates on guitar, which was just spellbinding. He gave a wonderful mini-lecture on Paganini and the history/beginnings of the rock star cult/ure, in whose legacy we live, and it was so enthralling, I felt as if I was re-living the kind of experience which I had at the marvellous Medieval Music course I once went to at the WEA. He plays technically challenging and virtuoso pieces with terrific skilful dexterity and it was a real pleasure to listen to him, especially as he had chosen something wonderfully creepy and off-kilter in honour of it being close to Hallowe'en. During David Heathfield's story (a Katherine Brigg's tale of the Moon falling into the snares of the marsh creatures), both musicians extemporized which was magical, and after Katie Moudry telling a tale with her poetic turn of phrase and well-toned voice, Kimwei and Stephen finished the evening off with a joint improvisation! Which was, with two such gifted musicians, and improvisation-chemistry added, really something not to be missed. An evening stuffed with treats in other words.
We (Widsith and Deor) did a section during the proceedings, of our 'Carnival of Monsters', giving the full introduction to the invocation, summoning of and speech by the Diabolo figure. We thought it went very well, and it was great to have a chance to do the whole thing, as of course at noisy drunken festival venues, you move swiftly on to the next monster to keep the pace of the evening. (But during festivals and cabarets it's best to perform it as cabaret, and not as the full theatre-experience which we are developing the full Monster Carnival as.) It was nice to shoot it past such an appreciative audience.
Big thanks to Kimwei for organizing it! It was, as said, 'pin drop' magical.

PowWow Litfest

This weekend it was off to Birmingham to support Deor as Matthew Hammond the Stand Up Philosopher. We arrived in the morning to catch up with good friend Robin (an artist/musician and mental nurse), and then set off for the venue. We parked nearby the capacious pub with its varied areas. The Prince of Wales in Moseley has an old world feel with leather settles with brass studs, bits of stained glass, is quite dark but in a Victorian railway kind of way, has moose head over one of the mantles and generally has the tobacco stained look on dark polished wood. However the function room is more cosy with jacquard cushions, and the larger garden another world! Under a roof, there are many antique-style tables and chairs including a very large octagonal table with classic motifs, colourfully upholstered on carved wooden dining chairs, with icicle fairylights. Then there is a kitchen (the only food?) only staffed at suppertime by folks who come in to cook vegetarian Indian 'street food' which looked authentic, a little shed that was a winecellar (!) seeling only wines, and advising on bottles looking French with bit of raffia attached and a little cart, and then a dodgy-looking pink lit lounge and then a large marquee with a tropical themed cocktail bar! Complete with bamboo, shells, cocktail bartenders in flowery shirts with loads of cocktail shaking going on, huge colourful drinks with endless straws and parasols, and the occasional flambe of said drinks, some of which looked like they were about to set the bamboo on fire! Plus a mixture of benches, ancient upholstered settle in a corner, red leather Chesterfield sofas (a feature at lit fests it seems! Velvet or leather, red or green!) and classy stools and modern solid pine benches, picnic tables and 'proper' tables, rectangular or bistro circles...all in all an extraordinary mixture of a pub!
   The Litfest was held in the garden, and the speakers and performers in the tropical area. There was a well stocked book stall, amusing comperes, representatives from both agents and publishers, plus a publishing debate, and creative work from authors including the organizer, novelist Andy Killeen, plus music and all in all a really buzzy atmosphere. The slam was a very interesting one, involving composing short pieces of fiction during intervals with the three heats spread out over the evening! Which explained the earnest-looking folks surrounded by sheets of paper in the corners. Much of the day and evening and the venue was packed, needing the steward and hand-stamp system employed for order and entry.
   Matthew Hammond the Stand Up Philosopher was at 9pm, and I went on to introduce him and the idea of 'stand up philosophy', also to mention the books and website (as that can really break frame when performing! when does one mention them?) and he then did four pieces, all of them brilliant - a thought provoking Foucault, still with the power to make one start with revelation, a timely, telling and funny rendition of Moore's fabulous fantastical satire 'Utopia', the searingly scintillating '3 Minute Marx', and to finish, Nietzsche's barbed but side-splitting critique of Kant, done as storytelling. Books were sold, hands were shaken, and folks said some lovely things. 'That was brilliant!' 'Highly entertaining' and 'really unusual' being some of them.
    All in all, it was a great weekend, with as as well the buzzy LitFest and storming set, a lovely afternoon wandering round parks and city streets with old friend Robin, stopping at the MAC arts centre for coffees, dodging the heavy showers by some miracle, and going round beautiful historic Worcester on the way up and hearing the organ thundering as the keyboardist was practicing at the stunning Gloucester Cathedral on the way back...with the Saxon ruins of the original building all picturesque just nearby...So ends the summer season of festivals - big thanks to Andy for making it end with a bang!
   And affectionate thanks to Robin and Clare for making it so extra special.