Reviewed by Martin Grey and Lytisha
John Humphreys, acting as our MC, introduced the evening reminding us all that the fabulous DIY poets group has been around for in excess of 10 years now. He also reminded the audience of our tag line: We are nice and we don’t always rhyme before introducing Leanne.
Leanne Moden has not been in Nottingham long, but is certainly making her mark on the poetry scene. She began with a poem taking us back with her through teenage memories of a gig in Brixton where she’ll never forget the burst capillaries on the bass players face which is as up-close and personal as a fan gets. Not quite as close as the close call the questioner that was on the receiving end of Leanne’s well thought out arguments about Lady Gardens almost had! Ever questioning social attitudes, Leanne’s poems encourage you to think whilst you laugh along.
Martin Dean was up next. He took us on a trip through Rome, where he encountered foul smelling strangers and noted that chaos was a word the Italians invented. Possibly not Martin’s dream holiday? It wasn’t all negative, there was a pppositively pppleasant pppoem with plenty of alliteration to push people along. A good set that took us around Europe.
Next up Isis made her debut on the diy stage with a great set including her own tribute to Lear in the form of a nonsense poem as well as a couple of others leaving us all enraptured by (her) charm. We look forward to hearing a lot more from our new star.
Following our newest performer was one of our more seasoned stars, Clare Stewart who put out an urgent call for the mister or missus scientister out there to come up with a cure for her blister which was curtailing her kissing. She also got us wondering what those pristine swimmers that don’t wet their hair get up to while some of us piss about with poems and paintings. As ever an entertaining set.
Andy Szpuk was next. After unwinding the mic, a little trick he is working on, he raged against the injustices around, including the spiking of the capital to stop homeless people sleeping in conspicuous places. In a tongue in cheek change of tack Andy then performed a poem for Daily Mail readers entitled Benefit Scroungers. Then to the delight of the audience Andy treated us to a sneak preview of his Musical in progress by singing We’re good at making guns to the accompaniment of detonators being ‘clicked’ by the audience members’ fingers. Plenty of food for thought.
Martin Grey changed the tone completely and we all loved his lovely poem about love and how lovely love is. He then went on to disclose his precocious childhood through his piece about counting on his hands at school. Although I have to say I agree with Martin and not the teacher… but maybe that says more of my attitude to authority figures that are not getting it right… Martin concluded his set, which he delivers with an almost snake like mesmerising charm, with a moving piece about missing people.
Leading us into the first break was Trevor Wright. He told us of the dim glow under the door indicating the presence of his offspring, whereas in very recent times it had been seeing the area beneath the tree a Teddy haven or a fairy ring, or kicking every last leaf in the world depending on how the imagination was moving. They do grow up so fast! Trevor concluded his set with Yella! one of the poems included in the with local anthology produced by Five Leaves Press about the refugee crisis. Does anyone tune into the stars?
After a ten minute break for more crowd loosening beverages, Orla Shortall, or Sparklechops as she claimed she’d been called, got the second half underway. A warm delivery of charm over strong messages is quite a forte of hers and tonight was no different, her journey from John Donne’s The Flea to the sometimes awkward mornings after sex, via the DH Lawerence Heritage Centre definitely kicking off the second half with a bang.
Being stuck in things you can’t control was the theme of our next poet, Lytitia Tunbridge, who regaled us with stories of how it gets harder to buy bras as you get older, how we never look up from our gadgets and the concern you feel when your bath is at risk of falling through your ceiling. She finished with “Beyond Control”, likening our journey through life to being off balance on a see saw. A set delivered with punch and vigour, full of struggles we can all relate to, except for maybe the bra buying.
Lytitia, Orla and Clare will be headlining our event at The Lofthouse on 24th November, the only event in the Nottingham Poetry Festival to feature female headliners, so power to us!
Next up was Andrew Martin, aka the world’s nicest man, who filled his five minutes with an A to Z of the politics of land use and how our rights to use it are being eroded by the interests of the powerful and the wealthy, set inside Chatsworth and Oxfordshire. A nicely textured, softly delivered set that challenged the politics of class and the notion that the grass is always greener.
Continuing the textured tones, Richard Bower then filled our souls with a trilogy of emotions. “Morning” showed us the hope from touching nature on a brand new day, “Nightfall” showed us the storms in the fragile darkness of endings, while “Skin to Skin” reminded us that it’s ok to articulate the dreams you have. The straight talking beauty of Richard’s words couldn’t fail to take you into your own emotional highs and lows.
Next up was the Breath on Paper, Phil Deakin, who took us back to our childhoods with “The Ghost of Yesterday”, which told of how easy it is to become invisible by using his time in school with the nickname ‘Ghosty’. He then charged his phone for all the time it has stolen, the friendships it stopped him finding and the people it stopped him meeting. The irony of using technology to spread his was not lost on him as we all took heed of his valuable words. Phil is most definitely a man with a lot to say.
The plentifulness of the poets was partly down to our next performer, The Cat in the Hat, our leader, Frank McMahon, who was having a rare night off the compering. Ever a fan of the short poem, Frank wistfully took on the Beatles, strong villains and fragile heroes, from John Lennon not believing he could sing in the shower to Liverpool, not Hemel Hempstead being the home of rock and roll, via the denim and leather days of his youth and the worlds apart between Steve Davis and his “First Hero” Alex Higgins. He finished with “From Green to Black”, about how his Dad swapped the green of Ireland for the black of Wolverhampton. Once again, a century break performance.
Frank led straight into our most excellent compere, John Humphreys, who of course plugged his book launch/50th birthday party, but only because you should all come to his night and buy a copy. John is a musical encyclopedia and his latest piece was about Lee Hazlewood, who very few of us had heard of, but we’re told was a highly influential 1950s American artist whose words and melodies helped define popular music. With deep, slow, warbling tones, John took us through his tribute to the man, not only giving a fine performance but also educating us in the process.
Our final pre headline poet was an impromptu set by Hazel Warren, because, well, we like to include everyone if we can, and she certainly didn’t disappoint with two excellent pieces. “Jumpers for Goal Posts” challenged the gender expectations of boys and girls, while “Brew Love” masterfully cut through the struggle to open your heart after being hurt, with the thoughts that can go through your head when making a cuppa for someone you think you might grow to like. Humble yet warm, it was a teariffic way to end the second half.
After a quick refill, it was time for our headliner, Chris Page, the Dark Lord, who really rose to the occasion. Chris marvellously manifested his misery with a glint in his eye and a smirk in his stanzas, the 20 minutes flying by before you felt they’d barely begun. With a haiku that smiled through your pain, to stories of self destruction caused by untied shoelaces that told you that the bad will always pass, we were sent into the darkest nursery rhymes that we’ve heard for a long time. Certainly, that was a teddy bears picnic I’m glad I missed! Two dark Christmas poems followed, which beat the Christmas lights with the mid November Christmas spirit, before “Twelve Nights” which deconstructed and rewrote the twelve days of Christmas into something much more relevant to the problems we face today. He finished with a letter to the child he doesn’t have yet, telling them, and us, in heartfelt details, about some bad experiences of his own, while inspiring us to want to do as well as we can should we ever get the chance to give the gift of life. Every clap and cheer was more than justified, it was a superb set.
The night ended with acoustic vibes from Stacey McMullen, who has more musical talent in his metatarsal alone than most of us have in our entire bodies. “Lines in the Sand” showed the stark plight of war refugees, while “Woke Up this Morning” reminded us that the blues was alive and well. There was even some acoustic “Killing in the Name of” thrown in for good measure, before finishing up with a fitting singalong to“54-46 (That’s My Number)”. Stacey’s effortless flipping from blues to jazz to funk to reggae certainly finished the night off in style.
So, there we have it, another great night with the DIY Poets. That is indeed what we said now. Once again, we were nice and we didn’t always rhyme. Hope to see you in February!
