SPEAK UP! @ THE LORD ROBERTS NOTTINGHAM, APRIL 25TH, 7:30pm
 Reviewed by Andy Szpuk
Gaining entrance to a poetry event with a tin of sardines felt a bit surreal, like stepping out of a Salvador Dali painting, but of course this was a We Shall Overcome (WSO) event, so people were asked to bring food bank donations instead of paying admission. But, if it felt slightly bizarre, it echoed the extraordinary and outlandish evening of entertainment that was to follow.
WSO is a movement that began in 2015 after the UK general election, in the knowledge that the nation was about to be subjected to turbo-charged austerity. It had humble beginnings, initiated by a washing machine engineer in Scarborough called Joe Solo, who also sings and plays guitar. Halfway through the evening, Pete Yen, local WSO stalwart and supreme gig/event organiser stepped up to the mic to tell us that the movement is growing in strength and raising funds for good causes continues nationwide. He also thanked Stewart Halforty of Peopleâs Assembly for his considerable contributions to the cause. Pete read a poem written by Joe Solo, âWhy Are You So Angry?â It was a great rendition, and captured the tone of the evening where political views poured forth, in between fractured lines of the idiosyncratic and wonderful.
The room filled quickly, and my eye line was punctuated by hats of various descriptions, Frank McMahon of DIY Poets sporting a Jeremy Corbyn type effort, Martin and Julian of From The Word Go wearing summery straw hats, and a few flat caps dotted around.
Martin and Julian opened with a taster for their headline act, with a quickfire poetry duet, with rapid exchanges and dainty wordplay, examining the relationship between land and money: âIs This Really The World That Money Bought?â
Next up we had 7 open mic poets. First up was Jake Wildman who treated us to âAn Age of Heroes and Godkingsâ, which drew on literary images, and âIntoxicantâ, about losing the self, which observed that losing the self can dull the senses. Then, Andrew Martin arrived at the mic, reading selections from his book âEchoes of my Mindâ. He read a poem about Grenfell, then a Facebook poem, which examined data privacy and ended with a stellar line: âthe tip of the Zuckerbergâ, and completed his slot with âMen are from Barsâ, examining gender stereotypes, men drinking, women knitting.
Martin was a great host and compere, but a feature of the evening was his need to readjust the height of the mic for each performer. He skilfully manipulated the audience into thinking heâd forgotten each time, and then coming to his own rescue, squeezing every drop of drama from the situation.
Jess Freeman jumped on stage next declaring a mission to deliver poetry that is personal rather than political, but she made every word count, on all levels, with âIâll Still Be Hereâ, a cry of solidarity for those with damaged souls.
Manjet Sahota got on the mic straight after and served up a poem about the cheese riots in Nottingham in 1766, called âDairyphobiaâ, it was a fine slice of rhyme, and he then read âIron Queenâ about homelessness in Manchester.
Emma was up next with a âLove Letter to the NHSâ, celebrating the heroics of health staff, a compelling picture that rang true completely.
Eleni jumped on to pour forth with an ode about water, all about a strong urge to be near the wet stuff, a strong tribute to H2O.
The open mic concluded with Jay Plus 4, a brief showcase of 2 projects: DH Lawrence and how he developed poetry, and Freedom. Jay recited âManifestationâ, observing that human connection can beat racism. Kenzi then took the mic to deliver a concise lyrical cry for freedom. Jay then flipped through his mobile to locate a DH Lawrence tribute poem.
Frank McMahon then took the stage, Jeremy Corbyn type hat still on head. Frank has now produced 10 books of poetry, and publishes 3 a year these days, probably the most prolific poet on the planet. Frank oozes nonchalant serenity, but also shows a thoughtful side, with cutting observations about the state of the world, and about his own life, with curled efforts of well-placed humour finding the top corner of the goal every time. He opened with âGuns of Americaâ, then âFacebook Liesâ, âRepaymentâ, and then âJesus Savesâ, which observed that Jesus may have been frugal, âturning mortar into wineâ. Or maybe Jesus was the best shot stopper of his day.
Frankâs words threw out challenges to the routines and rituals of modern life, asking questions, expressing a gentle exasperation with the world. Frank asked if there were any Thomas Hardy fans in the audience. Not a single hand was raised, but Frank ploughed on regardless, explaining that Hardyâs work was pioneering in identifying inequality, with âHardyâs Dueâ.
It was a typical Frank McMahon set, blasting quickfire through a landscape, around Britain and the rest of the world, and Frank concluded with âFrom Green to Blackâ, about his familyâs journey from Ireland to the industrial smoke of Wolverhampton. Another fine set of poems from the man in the Corbyn hat.
Martin announced a short intermission, the first act completed, in the Understudy.
Open Mic Part 2 commenced with Toby playing guitar and singing his âbitter pirate musicâ. His theme was the bonds that families have, focussing on the aspirations of young men and reflecting on past family life. It was heartfelt and soulful.
John Humphreys took the mic next, informing us heâd come out of his zombie period, after a series of family tragedies, and was now an angry zombie. He read âShouting at the TVâ, all about the avalanche of commercials we are subjected to daily, and a tribute to singer Phil Oakes who took his own life, âWhile Iâm Hereâ.
With any further pauses, Sophie Sparham, the second headliner, took the stage, wearing the chunkiest bobble hat Iâve seen for years. She proceeded to deliver a fine and diverse set of poems, reading from a scruffy pile of A4 sheets. She began with âO Come All Ye Faithlessâ, which was a hymn of solidarity for every loser in life. âLauraâ was then introduced, and a bundle of themes appeared, wage slavery, the banality of weather reports, victims of modern life, where another lonely girl dies in another lonely town, how freedom can be hard to find. Sophie took us back in time to Wilfred Owen and the first world war, and read an update of his famous poem, âDulce and Decorum Estâ, she gave us, â21st Century Dulceâ, with a world war taking place in a pub. The bobble hat came off. Sophie reminded us that we are celebrating 100 years of women gaining the vote in the UK and we travelled through time, through the eyes of a suffragette. A stellar line imprinted itself in my head: âwe are our own riot actâ. Sophie pondered what might be achieved in another 100 years.
It was an intense and wonderful set, which threw light on some of the worldâs problems but held on to more than a fistful of positivity. âHold My Handâ towards the end of her set was a touching and poignant piece about being different and struggling to find acceptance in a small community, trying to find the courage to be who you are.
From The Word Go took the stage, wearing mismatched straw summer hats, Julian playing the didgeridoo while banging a drum, while Martin talked to the rain, having a conversation with precipitation.
Julian passed a box around the crowd and asked everyone in the audience to write a word on it. This was to be returned to the stage later for processing.
Martin and Julian proceeded to have a conversation with each other, with one talking Italian, the other French, in an argument over who owned the brolly. It was Pinteresque stuff, and they completed a transaction for the brolly by haggling over which currency should be used. It felt symbolic of the state of Europe, with the cloud of Brexit hovering above.
We were treated to Julianâs juggling while Martin recited verse about how time seems to stand still and we jump through the same hoops. We got âEvad Should Be More Like Daveâ, with rapid fire exchanges between Julian and Martin.
The box with words written on it was returned to the stage and Martin selected some of the words and constructed a poem from them, delivering a strong message of hope and connection.
The most poignant moment was the sketch about homelessness, which ended with Julian wandering through the first 2 rows of the audience asking for help. No one responded and that echoed how things are these days. It was a powerful moment.
It doesnât get much more original than FROM THE WORD GO. Martin and Julian created a panoramic vista of entertainment that amused, entertained, but which also left questions hanging in the air.
It was a remarkable evening and undoubtedly one of the highlights of Nottingham Poetry Festival.
