Bilston Voices: My Bit

For those interested, should there actually be any, my complete set from Bilston Voices can be found by following these links in order.

A Safe And Secret Place
The Naughty Chair
Freedom
Games Lessons
First Love In Flashback
Chaos Theory
The Bangkok Hustle  (not the others on this page, just that one!)
The Teddy Bear House

Bilston Voices

Well, we really are running out of time now, aren't we? I have one more visit to Bilston Voices as an audience member to come (and of course one to City Voices) and then that's it. I'll be gone, on my way to China. That's why I was so pleased to be able to appear last night as a performer. 

I had the slot before the break but before we got to me we had two other poets to listen two and they were quite a treat.

Kurly McGeachie who opened the proceedings had a friendly, bouncy open style and an unusual fondness for peppering his poetry with sound effects - everything from vacuum cleaners to hand grenades. He opened with a short poem about Smiles and followed this with a much longer and more complicated piece called Home. Both were excellent. Whenever I hear poets perform long, complex pieces with this level of skill I am simply awestruck by the talent it takes. I have enough trouble remembering my own relatively straightforward, much shorter pieces. Kurlie rounded out with a love poem - You Are Beautiful and finished with a piece called Words that was more like rhythmic prose and very good indeed.

Kurlie was followed by Maurice Arnold, on older - and very different - performer. His poems were mostly short and quite humourous - ranging from Beer Festivals to being born in Dudley - with a couple of more serious ones included for variety. The poems were very good, especially the final one,  I Was Born In Dudley Town, but there was a slight problem with the delivery. He tended to go rather too fast and to run the ending of one poem into the introduction to the next with neither a pause nor a change of voice tone so that by the time the audience realised the poem was over he was through the introduction and rattling into the next one. He would benefit greatly from slowing down and reducing the number of poems in his set.

Then it was my turn. Since I decided about a year ago to recite rather than read it has become my preferred method of performance. I enjoy it much more because I can connect more with the audience and be more expressive in the delivery. I had decided to do a set of entirely autobiographical material and I had rehearsed a lot to get it down pat. It seemed to go very well indeed. There was laughter where there is supposed to be laughter, sighs where I expected sighs, choruses of appropriate oohs and ahs. I came off feeling really good about it.

After the break we had another change of performance style and material with Mark Reece. He gave us a long extract from an unpublished novel in the form of a rather puzzling extract about a mortgage salesman trying to con a weird old lady. It had its moments but on the whole I found it unconvincing. The situation seemed unlikely and the detail under-researched. Though the dialogue sounded quite authentic the piece was also far to long for the slightness of the material.

The evening was rounded out by Simon Fletcher who announced at the start that he was going to give us "fifteen minutes of flowers, birds, butterflies and stuff like that" and that's precisely what he delivered - a selection of pastoral poems that were very descriptive of the countryside that Simon clearly loves. His measured delivery suits the material perfectly and he writes in a gentle and literate style but his poems always seem to me to be the kind that reward a reader much more than a listener. All the same it was a polished performance to round off another fine evening.

One more to go and that's it. I really am going to miss Bilston Voices.

Forthcoming Attractions

Just a quick reminder.

Next Tuesday members of the Scribblers Writing Group (including me) will be filling the first half of the bill at City Voices in Wolverhampton as we launch our latest anthology of poetry and prose which includes the winners and runners up from our open writing competition as well as our own work.

The event takes place at The City Bar, King Street, Wolverhampton on Tuesday 10th May and usually kicks off at 7:45, finishing at 9:15. Best to be there from 7:30. And, of course it's free! At the moment I don't know who the second half performers will be, but be assured they will be worth seeing. They always are.

A couple of weeks later, I will be doing a full slot at the sister event, Bilston Voices, where I am intending to do a set of mostly autobiographical verse in my swansong Midlands performance. Once again I don't know yet who else is performing.

That one takes place at Metro Cafe, Bilston (opposite the Town Hall) on 26th May and starts at 7:30. There is a £2 charge but it's well worth it. Like City Voices it is usually all done by 9:15.

So, if you can make either event, please come along and enjoy.

Bilston Voices

Although the fine weather seemed to have had an effect on the numbers attending this month's Bilston Voices it certainly didn't reduce the quality of the event at all. The performances were of the same high standard that we have come to expect and so we were treated to five more excellent sets in our evening's entertainment at the Cafe Metro.
It started with Ddotti Bluebell who gave a confident performance in a fast-paced, rhythmic, almost rapping style. Her opening poem was an odd piece about what Hitler would have been like if he had worn her bright orange boots. Other poems covered various aspects of her experience as a poet - how she became a poet, the stress of writing and so on but by far the oddest was a rapping villanelle about child slavery. Before I heard it I'd have sworn that a rapping villanelle was an impossibility and the subject matter added an extra level of improbability. Nevertheless it was a fine piece of work, both technically and as thoughtful entertainment.
By complete contrast Janet Smith gave a quieter, more structured set  of shorter poems. Her strength lies in the use of imagery from nature both straightforwardly and metaphorically. My favourite from her set was "The Fire In His Eyes"  about a childhood experience of creating a collage of a tiger but all of them were lyrical and delivered with a quiet intensity.
Things turned around again with the appearance of Andy Connor, literally with his appearance, as he strode  slowly and menacingly towards the performance area before delivering the most powerful piece of the evening, a startlingly dark and aggressive poem about being a bully at school and the lifelong aftermath of it. It was wonderfully and mesmerisingly done with intense flashes of anger contrasting sharply with almost prosaic descriptions of violence. He followed it with a brighter poem about an inspirational teacher and an extract from his new novel in which he convincingly described a visit to a rather dodgy car dealer. It was a varied set and all very well done.
The second half kicked off  with Hazel Malcolm. In homage to tomorrow's Royal Wedding, she started with a short poem about being a bridesmaid and followed up with a reprise of the piece that she had read a couple of weeks ago at Wolverhampton about  her mother acting as banker in an informal financial club. A diverse selection of pieces  including poems about a plastic bag, how time changes us and some short reflections about hairdressing rounded out her set.
Theo Theobald never disappoints. His sets are only peripherally about poetry as the introductions are often longer than the poems and both are laugh-out-loud funny. In among the banter we were treated to poems about why he hates the London Marathon, how men drive and Eastenders' script writing, as well as the more serious Harry's Stool which was an unusual and poignant reflection on death. He finished off with his ever popular slam piece riffing on the names of the areas from the Radio Four shipping forecast.
It was an excellent end to an excellent night that was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone there.

Bilston Voices

It's Bilston Voices time of month again.

Last night's entertainment started off with a poet I hadn't seen before, Elaine Hickman-Luter. Her slightly hesitant start may have been due to nerves or, more likely, to the fact that she was performing with a broken arm while Jill Tromans stood at her side holding the poems ready to hand to her. She picked up quickly though and soon got into the swing of things adding tone and colour to her delivery. Her set was a very mixed bag of both styles and themes. Poems about trees and crocuses sat side by side with poems about moving to Mars or a friendly elf. Very traditional verse forms sat side by side with with much more modern and abstract material. She also had my favourite title of the night - A Day With An Abstract Seagull though I couldn't tell you what it was about if you gave me sixpence. I thought it was all very good but I liked the more traditional stuff a little better.

I had also never seen the second poet, Ness Tobin, doing what was only her second ever performance and making a pretty good job of it. Her poetry was mainly descriptive of people. Ms Together told of an encounter with a perfect mother. When You See Her, The Girl With Doc Martins and Rich Boys all painted vivid character portraits. Even Seen To Be Believed, ostensibly about biscuits, managed to sneak in a portrait of a compulsive biscuit eater. Occasionally her delivery missed the beat or mistimed the rhythm slightly so that the flow was interrupted but that can easily be forgiven in someone who has only read in public once before. 

Finishing the first half was a Bilston Voices regular, Peter Hill. He gave us a nice change of pace with a very funny story of a conversation between a grandfather and his young granddaughter in which she gradually tore holes in his story of The Three Billy Goats Gruff with the true logic of a child. It was a clever piece producing lots of chuckles and some laugh out loud moments. He accompanied it with a nice poem, allegedly true, about the time that his wife painted his favourite garden bench bright pink. It was funny and very well delivered.

After the Break Silvia Millward was back for another Bilston Voices reading. I've watched with interest her developing performances and she gets better every time. Her selection of material was good but more importantly she seems more relaxed every time she appears and her introductions to the poems are now far more natural and less forced. The poems themselves are very evocative of time and place. Whether describing childhood holidays, lorries sliding about on the ice or the contents of her trinket box she manages to create a genuinely atmospheric mood.

The final artist of the night, Simon Lee, I encountered for the first time last week at the Love Slam. I'd liked him well enough then with his two well crafted and rather funny poems but he made good use of the longer format with a series of humourous verses with an almost (but not quite) rapping use of rhyme and rhythm. A poem about a banker making excuses was followed by one about not wanting to dance and another about appearing on the X-Factor. One poem, The Waiting Game, was more serious in subject but maintained the rhythmic style. A fine performance to round off another fine night.

Bilston Voices: January, 2011

Better late than never.
My review of this month's Bilston Voices has been delayed by real life. Actually the bit of real life in question started on Thursday afternoon when I finally taught my last class at South Birmingham College but  it was the bit on Friday, my leaving party, that prevented my normal prompt review from appearing.
Anyway, enough of real life, what about the monthly entertainment that is Bilston Voices?

It started this month with Jackie Evans who gave us quartet of poems and then one of her prose pieces. The short poems - about the moon, butterflies, valentines day and blackberries - were very nicely done and very traditional but, for me, what I like to hear from Jackie are her very warm and human tales of her life. She is in the process of writing an autobiography and her memories of incidents from her life in her wheelchair are warm, humorous and an absolute delight to hear. On Thursday her tale was of two brief brushes with the law when she was younger and were as charming as ever. I rather hope that one day she completes and publishes her autobiography as I, for one, will be at the front of the queue to buy it. I suspect that everyone who has ever heard her read will be there with me.

Jackie was followed by Ron Davies who, in previous performances, has usually given us very Black Country oriented writing but on Thursday gave us a very funny tale of two people visiting a particularly seedy guest house in Weston-super-Mare. I chuckled all the way through it and laughed out loud a a couple of the funniest parts. It was a portmanteau view of some of the worst places that most of us will have, at one time or another, have stayed in.

Jane Seabourne was next. Her poems are diverse and thoughtful and covered topics as far apart as why we throw coins into fountains (or indeed, as the poem suggested, into just about any bit of available water), the story of King Canute, how fossils are formed and, as with Jackie, butterflies. Her quiet, relaxed style perfectly suits her poetry and, as I've remarked before, the venue - Cafe Metro - perfectly suits the style with its comfortable surroundings and attentive audience.

After the break we had a slightly more lively and animated performance from Naomi Paul who was the only performer of the evening that I hadn't seen before. Her poems, and her one song, were also diverse in tone and content but were great fun. Perhaps, though, fun is  the wrong word, given that the content of some of the poems wasn't exactly cheerful. I was particularly taken with her poem about libraries which included the great line "a novel a day keeps the fascists away". She finished with a tale of a trip across the USA on a hippy bus. It was a great performance from someone I hope to see perform again.

We finished with Dave Reeves who mixes poetry and music in the most entertaining way. Some he recites unaccompanied, in other cases he uses a harmonica to punctuate the verses or an accordion to provide a pleasing backdrop like a frame for a great painting. So he gave us the story of Good King Wenceslas, retold from the peasant's point of view, a rant about living in a home with thin walls. His final piece, this time with the accordion, was a marvellous piece about going home in the rain on a cold day in 1953. It reminded me greatly of Ivor Cutler or, perhaps, Viv Stanshall. I was pleased to find that he felt this to be a compliment because that's certainly what I intended it as.

If I get my hoped-for job overseas, I am starting to run out of visits to this monthly event but when that happens I shall certainly miss it. Since it started it has given me one night every month when I am guaranteed some great entertainment and after I am gone it will go on giving entertainment to others.
I will miss it.

Bilston Voices

Bilston Voices last night went for a Black Country themed evening and it gave the proceedings a consistency of tone that is sometimes lacking in the more diverse selections usually on offer. This time round I had seen all of the performers before and was looking forward to hearing more of their work. Jill Tromans, from Scribblers, kicked off with a couple of good poems and a very funny story about a man taking his pet chicken to the vet. It was her best performance so far. She performed, rather than read, the two poems and gave a very expressive and animated reading of the story. She also introduced them well and had the audience laughing out loud at the links as well as the writing.

Eileen Ward-Birch followed with a reading of a selection of her poems and a nicely observed, if rather slight, memoir of a childhood visit, in winter, to see relatives in Aldridge. She fitted quite a lot of short, diverse poems into her set ranging from one about the renovation of St Leonard's Church in Bilston to one about internet shopping via one about the ash cloud from the Icelandic volcano eruption.

The three remaining performers for the evening had something in common. Much of their poetry would have been utterly incomprehensible to anyone who wasn't born within about five miles of the venue but achingly funny to anyone who was. So, from Geoff Stevens, we got a poem about pigeons, one called "Why am Darlaston blokes so slow?", another about a Black Country dialect sex chat line and so on all delivered in a heavy Black Country dialect that really engaged the audience. Dialect poetry has to be very well done to succeed and Geoff's is very well done indeed.

After the break Mike Tinsley took over and things took a turn for the prurient. This being Mike, we had expected no less.  He included poems about sex, death, Christmas and carrots (in sick) in his very enjoyable set. One of Mike's tricks is to take jokes, usually dirty jokes, that are so old they are creaking, and give them a new lease of life as poems. It works well, though the groans from the audience are as loud as the laughs. He's a thoroughly entertaining performer who included more dialect stuff to confuse any visitors from out of the district.

We finished off the evening with Brendan Hawthorne whose poems were just as good though perhaps (a little)  less seamy. He covered the way that pubs have changed their character over the years, health and safety and the wickedly funny idea of a Black Country dialect SatNav among other topics though my favourite was the slightly more thoughtful, though still funny, one about a lifetime of trauma caused by not getting a bright orange space hopper for Christmas in 1969.

Another great night for five excellent performances. Bilston Voices just goes on delivering the goods every time.

Bilston Voices

I go to quite a lot of poetry events and, in my experience, the people I'm watching fall into two broad groups - readers and performers. Nothing wrong with either of those things, of course. Tonight's Bilston Voices was mostly filled with the latter and, in an event that is always excellent, it was one of the best yet. Jane James started the evening with a thoughtful and perceptive set of poems that were mostly performed in a monologue style. The poems had a reality and depth to them, concluding with a piece about the death of an uncle which, because of recent circumstances resonated very strongly with me. 

Following Jane was Richard Bruce Clay reading a section from his novel Both. I have previously heard him read another section of the same novel and on both occasions have been impressed both by the quality of the writing and the power of the performance. The range and passion of his vocal delivery greatly enhances what is already an engrossing tale. I bought the book and will review it here when I have read it.

Iris Rhodes had a hard act to follow and did so with a more subtle and measured performance. One interesting thing was that she brought a whole new depth to the phrase "a local writer". She writes mostly about the local area but tonight rather than focussing on Bilston or even on the smaller area of Bradley she announced that she was going to read to us about the extremely narrow area of "the corner of Baldwin Street and Salop Street". To that end we had a brace of pieces - a poem and a story. The poem was OK but I enjoyed the story, a tale about the "biggest pig in Bradley", much more. A slight tale but very well constructed and very well told.

After the break we had an unbilled treat as the new Birmingham Poet Laureate, Roy McFarlane, told us a little about his plans for poetry in the region and read a poem about a Hurricane which showed, if proof was needed, just how good poetry can be when done by someone who really understands his craft.

Returning to the billed artists the next one up was the regional coordinator for Apples and Snakes, Bohdran Piasecki. If there is a performer with more energy I have yet to see him. He bounced around the tiny performance area like a demented Tigger and delivered a set of genuinely passionate and serious poems that had the audience riveted, linked by witty and intelligent banter about the Polish people and life. For me he was the best turn in a night full of excellent turns. The first poem, Memories, was my favourite but all of them, even the one in Polish, were very well done indeed.

The evening was rounded out with an old favourite of Bilston and City Voices, Win Saha. She is a quieter performer than the others there tonight and writes in a much more traditional style. Her poems - on subjects as diverse as MPs, grumpy grannies, Christmas and Bilston Market - are all light and humorous and well crafted but by now she must be getting rather tired of performing Omelette, a poem that appears to be de rigueur  every time she appears. It was a quiet finish but a very good one.

An alternate view

There is another review of Bilston Voices here.

Quixotic and distinctive, eh? I shall hope that was intended as complimentary.

Metro Voices : 26 August 2010

Bilston Voices is always interesting but last night's was one of the best I've been to - and I'm not just saying that because I was one of the performers. Outside the weather was miserable but the turnout was remarkable. Cafe Metro was packed to bursting with an eager and appreciative audience and the acts were all excellent with performances that were mostly poetry but poetry in a very diverse collection of writing and performance styles.

We kicked off with Carol Ward who gave us a collection of humorous verses on topics ranging from transvestism to the uses of brick walls. They were well-structured and well-crafted and, just as important, they were funny. A lot of "humorous" poetry turns out not to be very funny but that wasn't a problem in Carol's set. 

She was followed by Roger Jones, a familiar voice at this kind of thing. For Roger it really is the voice that sells it. He's an accomplished performer of all kinds of writing and last night he gave us a mixed set including some quite serious poetry, a couple of nicely observed memoirs of childhood and a couple of sketches. I was very taken by his opening poem, a thoughtful piece wondering about what had happened to some childhood friends from an old photograph, and he bravely attempted a Villanelle , a verse form that I have attempted myself once or twice. It's an absolute pig of a verse form and near impossible to write well but he had managed it, though he did tell me later that he had only ever written that one and had no intention of trying another. Can't say I blame him.

I was the final act before the break and obviously I'm in no position to judge whether I was any good or not though I gained a gratifyingly warm reception. I was attempting, for the first time in ten years of performing, to do my set without a written copy, entirely from memory and I'm pleased to say that though I stumbled once early on and had to look at my notes, the rest of the set went without a hitch. It was as nerve-racking as the first time I ever read in public but it was a great experience. The lack of a script freed me to put more tone and emotion into my set and to make better contact with my audience. I shall certainly be trying to do the same at any subsequent performances. My set was mostly taken from some of my more serious poems but with a couple of lighter ones thrown in to lift the mood. 

After the break Dave Finchett, another familiar performer, read a series of poems. His humour is often subtler than many and his poetic imagery more... well, more poetic. A lot of his work is what one of my friends (who really doesn't understand poetry) would describe as "prose, written down in lines" but that would be doing it a terrible disservice. His poems included a couple of very funny ones about office jargon and automatic "press one to go to next menu" telephone systems as well as a more than passable impersonation of Michael Winner eating in a posh restaurant.

The final act was Lorna Meehan and she had also chosen to perform largely without a written copy. Her style was big and active and quite physical, her poems ranting at the audience in fine style. She was better, by a very long way, at it than I am. Her topics included an impassioned plea to elect Stephen Fry as President, a raging demolition of Lady Gaga and a lustful entreaty to the latest Doctor Who for a cross-species relationship. She was excellent.

So, overall, one of the best evenings so far at Bilston Voices which continues to raise the bar in the quality of the writing and performances. I only hope that I can keep on raising my game to move with it.

Er... um... it goes something like this...

Down at Harrow, as always, I had a lot of time on my hands when not teaching. The Hill isn't exactly replete with entertainment possibilities - which may well be the understatement of all time. The result was that I watched a few movies on the projector in my classroom, listened to a lot of music and spent quite a bit of time trying to memorise the poems for the set I'm doing tonight at Bilston Voices. Normally I read my work. It's no secret that I have a terrible memory. Tonight though I'll be trying to recite - perform even - my work, instead of just reading it. I will of course be taking printed copies just in case I need them.

For anyone who might be vaguely interested I intend to do a set of poems about museums. Sounds dull, I know, but hopefully it won't be. It won't be for me, anyway.

Bilston Voices: A Remote Control Review

This month as I am working away I have been unable to attend Bilston Voices. Therefore the following review is a guest post and comes to you straight from the pen of Jill Tromans who, in addition to writing the review performed at the event and, on previous evidence, is far too modest about her own contribution.

Bilston Voices 22 July 2010

Bilston Writers
Jill Tromans
Bilston Writers

Interval

Stu Flavill
Heather Wastie

An enjoyable evening at Bilston Voices was launched by a series of fascinating performances featuring the many talents of Bilston Writers, as they cleverly depicted an interesting and informative reminisce of Wolverhampton's Sunbeam factory. They spoke about its history and significance in the town [now city]; as well as reminding us of the effects of its demise on the local community.

Silvia Millward introduced Stuart Haycox, Ramesh Gaat, Jackie Evans and Peter Hill as they recalled fond and sometimes personal memories of Sunbeam's impact through a medley of well-rehearsed and poignant pieces, beginning with Sunbeam - The Light of our Lives, read by Stuart Haycox and concluding with Silvia's soulful, yet hopeful, rendition, Factory On Hold.

Half way through the first half, I attempted to raise a laugh with a couple of  light-hearted poems and a humorous monologue about two elderly aunts.

The second half of the evening was kicked off by the very talented Stu Flavill, who entertained us with a varied and quirky selection of his poetry. I particularly enjoyed his piece about the demise of the Western on TV.

Finally, the multi-talented Heather Wastie brought the evening to a climax with her own special brand of humour. She began by informing us that she had declined an offer to perform at the Royal Albert Hall to appear at Bilston Voices, adding "Unfortunately my orchestra has accepted the other offer."

Her talents appear endless; singer, poet and all-round entertainer who manages to perform with skill and finesse I would travel far to see Heather and her many alter-egos.

Forthcoming Attractions

Last night I went to a poetry even organised by Geoff Stevens to celebrate his forty years performing by revisiting the pub where he read for the very first time so long ago. I was happy to go and celebrate with him, he's a poet I admire a lot. It was a great evening with an open mike session for poets so I got to do a set. I enjoyed it immensely, not least because it was a rare chance to perform the stuff that I like most myself rather than the stuff that I think will be popular with the City/Bilston Voices crowds. 

And that brings me to the purpose of this post. Shameless self-promotion. For anybody who is interested and in the vicinity of Bilston, I'll be reading again in the August Bilston Voices. You'll get about fifteen minutes of me and fifteen minutes each from some rather more accomplished writers. The venue is Cafe Metro in Bilston, the date is 26th August, the time is 7:30, the cost is £2.

I've had a request to include some of my poems about the House on the Rock so that will form part of the set. The rest will therefore also need to be poetry rather than prose and I shall probably stick with a travel theme.

August the 26th - be there or be somewhere else!

Bilston Voices: June 2010

I missed last month's Bilston Voices because of a problem with my foot and I'll miss the next one because I'll be away working so I wanted to go to this one. Instead of the usual five performers it had seven performing slightly shorter sets. This was to accommodate a group of sets from members of the City of Wolverhampton College Creative Writing Course.

First, though, we had the briefest of cameo appearances from Geoff Stevens who has performed at the venue before and has been around on the poetry circuit for forty years. That's why he was there, to read only a couple of his poems from his "Islands in the Blood" collection, and to invite us to a poetry event on the following evening at the Villiers Arms, the place where he did his very first reading. His two pieces were from the more serious and evocative end of his range and were very good indeed. The brevity of his appearance meant that we weren't treated to any of his popular Black Country poetry.

He was followed by Yvette Rose who followed a short prose memoir about working in Woolworths' with a group of gentle and wistful poems that were accomplished enough with strong rhythmic structures and good rhyming (both end rhymes and internal rhymes being used effectively.) The subject matter wasn't really to my taste but it was well enough done.

Then we were into the Creative Writing Course sets. The first was from Roxy Lal, a young writer reading for her first time. The works she read were very personal and evocative memoirs that at times clearly affected her emotionally but she completed the set well and has great promise as a writer. 

She was followed by Marion Cockin. She is very good poet that I have seen a few times. As I've said before I don't always like all of her material and this time felt that it wasn't as good as her previous sombre performance at Bilston Voices. It was nevertheless an entertaining and wide ranging set. Works included an amusing piece about choosing paint from the plethora of available shades, a love poem with some word play on multiple meanings and a serious poem inspired by the armistice day two minutes silence.

After the Break Lucy Nickholds, another writer from the Creative Writing Course, read us an interesting and original, if slightly macabre, fantasy story. She was followed by Michelle Moore who started with a short and rather bleak poem describing part of Wolverhampton and went on to a very good monologue in the character of a teaching assistant. It was well-written, well-read and quite accurate about how teaching assistants can often be viewed by teachers.

The evening was rounded out by a set from Jane Seabourne, the organiser of the writing course that had provided so much of our entertainment. Her poems were a mixed bag of styles, some funny and some very serious but all excellent. I was particularly amused by her description of a college open day in which the organisers had tried to make an essentially dull event into something more entertaining. I laughed out loud at the line "It's rumoured there'll be Morris Dancing". It perhaps wasn't the dramatic finale that we've seen at some previous Bilston Voices but it was, in a lower key way, a very satisfying end to the evening.

Bilston Voices

It was an unusually subdued evening at Bilston Voices last night. I don't know whether it was the political debate that kept half the audience away or the football or the nice weather but something certainly did so that half the seats in the already quite compact venue were empty. It flattened the atmosphere a little but the performers still managed to give us another night of good entertainment. First up was Eileen Foy whose set fell a little between two stools. Her poems were well-crafted but occasionally had the feel of writing exercises - albeit very well done writing exercises - poems about poetry often do, nevertheless she entertained us solidly for fifteen minutes before handing over the stage to Rory Kelly. Rory was one of the occasional series of young performers that Emma is encouraging with slots at the venue and he treated us to a spirited and enthusiastic performance of short humorous poems delivered with a great deal of gusto. Considering that he had to rush off home immediately afterwards to revise for an exam today it was an especially bravura showing. He was also the only poet to perform there so far complete with a visual aid - a photograph of a meditating policeman on every table - to accompany one of his pieces.

The half was rounded out by Marcia Calame. Her poetry was rhythmic and with what was almost, though not exactly, a rapping style. While I found some of her pieces to be rather metaphor heavy, her reading of a longer piece which she described as a "work in progress" was really very impressive. She asked for our comments and I'm happy to comply. My comment is that if that is a work in progress I hope I get the chance to hear it when it's finished as I was quite taken with it even in its current form.

After the break the atmosphere picked up thanks to the style of poetry favoured by Mike Tinsley. His poems are funny and clever and with seaside postcard sense of humour and mostly written in a Black Country dialect. Dialect poetry can go horribly wrong but not last night. The trick is to have a poem that would be good without the dialect and then the dialect adds another layer. Mike managed the trick admirably. It made him a hard act to follow but Dave Finchett gave it an excellent try. His  poems were a mix of nostalgia and humour with a dash of anger thrown into the blend. He pulled off tricky rhyme schemes and rhythms with skill as he gave us pieces about his memories of "Spot The Ball" and his feelings about the credit crunch and the modern sound bite culture among others.

And then it was over for another month, a quieter night than some perhaps but still an entertaining one.

Bilston Voices

Last night John Prescott was addressing the members of the local Labour Party at Bilston Town Hall. Fortunately for me there was an alternative. I chose to forego the pleasure of Mr Prescott's company and visit this month's Bilston Voices to sit comfortably and listen to the evening's five performers.
Andy Moreton kicked off. He was a little nervous as it was his first time to read to an audience but he had no need to be. It's a remarkably performer-friendly venue and his work is strong enough to go down very well. It was a mix of humourous and serious poems and one longer prose piece about a voyeuristic old man and it was all well received. I know Andy from my writers' group and I was glad that Emma had finally managed to persuade him to take part.
Next came Dave Reeves with a well-performed, if rather odd, set. His opening poem, a polemic about reading poetry on the web, was fittingly written on a scroll and he moved on to a slight variation on a poem by Alan Ginsberg in which he had replaced "Levinsky" throughout by "Lewinsky". He accompanied himself on accordion. It was novel but nowhere near as clever as he thought it was. Fortunately other poems in the set were very clever and sometimes very funny and delivered very entertainingly.
A young local poet, Tom Jenkins, rounded out the first half well. His poems were witty and well-crafted and included a nicely done pastiche of Poe's the Raven as well as a worryingly convincing piece about an internet stalker.

After the break we had the highlight of the night, Theo Theobold, whose set was really a stand-up comedy routine interrupted by some very funny poems. His jokes elicited laughter and groans in equal measure and he performed with energy and spirit.
It was, perhaps, therefore unfortunate for Simon Fletcher that he had to follow him. Without Simon's organisation and advocacy of poetry in Wolverhampton it's probable that we'd have neither Bilston Voices nor its big brother City Voices. He also writes poetry and prose with a great deal of technical accomplishment. It would require a sharp ear and a harsh critic to find a mis-stressed syllable or a misplaced word. The trouble is that his writing is usually quiet and contemplative, and often very personal, memoirs of his life and family. If not following Theobold they would have been intimate and sensitive but in the circumstances they seemed a little flat.

So, another great night out in Bilston without a politician in sight. I can't help feeling glad that I wasn't in the Town Hall.

Bilston Voices: A Masterclass in slant rhymes

This month I almost missed the start of Bilston Voices which explains why I have no idea why Marcia Calame, billed to open, wasn't there. As I entered, carefully trying not to make too much noise, Emma was just starting to read as half of a fill in set that she started and another member of "Women Who Write" (whose name I didn't manage to get) finished. They were reading poems from an old anthology that were very good but perhaps a little over-familiar to the regulars. Then though it was on to the billed program.
Ray Jones I have seen before. He's an entertaining writer but what makes him special is that he's a very fine reader. His opening work was a character piece narrated by a man the day after his 99th birthday in a nursing home. It was by turns poignant and hilarious and occasionally reminiscent of the Alan Bennett Talking Heads monologues. The second piece, about a man seeking marriage guidance because his wife was changing sex, was a touch less successful but nonetheless very funny.
Ray was followed by Sarah James who managed to get herself into a bit of a muddle by reading a three character play. It was a humorous, Monty Python-esque skit about Vincent Van Gogh and Paul Gaugin doing the ironing but as a reading it needed three distinct voices and a lot more acting and timing. My impression was that done properly it was probably very good but that it wasn't a suitable piece for this forum. Her set recovered with the subsequent poetry which was well received though not completely to my personal taste.

After the break we had Ron Davies. I don't recall ever seeing him before but his wistful tale of first love in the Black Country seemed very familiar so I think I must have. It was told with good timing and was very entertaining. The humour and gentle sense of longing for childhood innocence were delicately balanced but never slipped. Like Ray Jones in the first half he is a very good reader, though occasionally the use of character accents did seem a touch forced.

The evening finished with Andy Connor who I've definitely not seen before - I'd have remembered. His set consisted of a number of short funny poems, one long serious poem and one long funny poem. All were well crafted. The funny ones very very funny. The serious one, about the Paris tomb of the Unknown Soldier was skillfully done and my personal favourite. What struck me about his set though was that it was practically a master class in the best way to use slant rhymes. I know a lot of people Who wouldn't have liked him. They are the kind of people who think that all poetry should rhyme and that if it doesn't it isn't poetry. They should listen to Andy who, like last month's headliner, also performed rather than reading. A careful analysis of the rhymes would have found that most of them were near-misses but that was clearly an element of his style and the recitation showed just why this isn't actually important. Historically rhyming poetry is a relatively modern invention, something that the "doesn't rhyme, ain't a poem" brigade would do well to check up on.
One last thing that struck me was actually something he said in introducing his serious poem, "Life's not that simple. It would be dishonest to only write humourous verse."
It's an admirable sentiment and one I agree with wholeheartedly.

So, once more an excellent night out, marred for me only by the fact that I was dog-tired from my "neighbour problem". That too was resolved though as I rounded the evening with a couple of pints in the pub next door and went home and popped in some very effective silicon ear-plugs and managed to get my first decent sleep in a week.

Bilston Voices

This month's Bilston Voices was nothing if not diverse. Along with City Voices, it's often an eclectic mix but tonight's pushed it further than usual. They kicked off with Raj Lal, rescheduled from last time. She read the first chapter of a work in progress, a novel set during the 1984 riots in Delhi. It was gripping stuff. The best compliment that you can pay this kind of writing is that it sounds authentic and this certainly fit the bill. It sounded more like memoir than fiction.
Keith Melbourne was next with a set of poems with a local feel, some delivered in dialect. Most of them were clever and funny - one was sung to the tune of The Deadwood Stage. It was a versatile performance though with a more serious note being struck, and struck very well, by his poem "The War Artist".
The first half was rounded off by Ruth Parker who opened with a couple of her poems, as excellent as ever, and then moved on to a story, albeit written with her usual poetic flair, about a woman changing her life after her husband leaves. It was a good enough story, well crafted and entertaining, but personally I would rather have heard more of her poems.
I say that she rounded off the first half but before we broke for the interval there was one more poem, a tribute to the venue - the Cafe Metro - by John and Liz Rogers. It was short and amusing and they presented a framed print to the staff to hang on the wall. It is a nice venue, oddly shaped and pleasantly decorated with just the lack of any beer (apart from the kinds of bottled lager that I can't stand) being a drawback.

After the break it was time for something new. The organiser and MC, Emma, is a great advocate of spreading the joys of poetry and she has started a new feature of a shorter set showcasing a young writer. Tonight's was Emily Oldham who read a handful of her poems to us. If she was at all nervous it didn't show and she rattled through a set which may have been a bit top heavy with the preoccupations of youth but showed a great deal more skill and style than I could have managed at that age. (Any voices from the back crying "Or now" can leave!)
We moved on to Paul Francis who read a collection of extracts from his new autobiography. Paul has a lifetime as a teacher and writer and the anecdotes, combining elements of both, were strong and interesting. I'm not sure if they were more interesting to me as a teacher than to others in the audience but I can say that I enjoyed them a lot.
And so to Heather Wastie - or possibly Lily Bolero, the performance was, by her own admission, rather schizophrenic. Her poems were not just well written and extremely funny but brilliantly performed. Like Emma last time, she didn't read, she recited, freeing her to perform. As she went through the set she took on a whole range of different characters and voices to great effect. I especially liked the one where she "interviewed" the members of the audience at a classical concert, becoming character after character each one with their own peculiar and annoying, concert-going habits and each one critical of other members of the audience. Like Keith she finished with a song, complete with a taped backing, an instrumental break and a dance routine. It was hilarious.

So all in all another excellent night out. The only trouble is that they keep on raising the bar so that those of us who also sometimes get the chance to perform there will have to work harder in future to keep up. It's a good problem to have.

Bilston Voices

I have just returned from the monthly Bilston Voices performance. For those who haven't extensively scanned the back entries in this blog, this is a gathering where local writers are invited to perform their work to an enthusiastic, if small, audience. I've sometimes read there myself.
Tonight, as is customary, there was a wide range of material on offer.
They opened with Michael Hill. His was an unusual piece. It was a memoir of his childhood but created with almost no narrative structure. This didn't, in the end, actually matter for what we heard was a broad brush impressionistic description of an unpleasant and brutal childhood. The lack of structure in some ways made it more personal and more affecting, as if we were hearing the raw and ragged recollections of a painful time in his life.
He was followed by lighter fare. Sylvia Millward I already know. More than that I already know the set she performed this evening having heard an almost identical version at the sister venue at City Voices in Wolverhampton. These performances are the first two times that Sylvia has ever read in public and tonight's was the more polished. It seemed a little slower and the better pacing let us focus more on the individual poems. The first collection in the set was a group of poems about the sea and they left me a little cold - I'm never a great fan of lyrical descriptions - but the industrial poems that made up the final section were very good indeed.
Iris Rhodes finished off the first half with a long description of Bilston and Bradley when she was growing up in the forties and fifties. This is a little before my time but many of the things she described were still there in my childhood in the sixties. I was particularly taken with her descriptions of the old market. I remember it fondly. It was the kind of old fashioned enormous building with a high arched roof and two long, wide aisles that separated the wooden stalls on either side of them. No one would ever construct such a market hall nowadays. It was incredibly wasteful of space and almost impossible to heat but it had character. The modern replacement is a squat square box with aisles too narrow for two people to pass easily while two others buy at the stalls. It's a dull, functional (barely), characterless block.
Iris evoked the difference between then and now perfectly.
After the break it was due to be Raj Lal but instead we were treated to a stand-in set by the MC, Emma Pursehouse, and treat is the appropriate word. Emma's poetry is always excellent and her theatrical and dramatic performances are terrific. Unlike most of us, she recites all of her work from memory, which frees her up to perform rather than to read. To go with her poets flair for words she has an actor's grasp of motion and a comedian's grasp of timing. It really is a treat to watch and listen.
It was a difficult act to follow but author Jeff Phelps gave it a solid try. He read a section of his new novel, "Box of Tricks", and a selection of poems. The section of the novel worked very nicely as a self-contained vignette, promising good things for those who read the whole thing. The poems flowed nicely and were perfectly read but lacked the drama of Emma's spirited efforts. One of the poems, Public Dreaming, reminded me very strongly of some of Bob Calvert's old work both as a poet in his own right and as a lyricist for Hawkwind.

So, overall another splendid night out with the only disappointment being that the next Bilston Voices will not be until the end of January. In December there won't be one because it would fall on Christmas Eve. They seem to think people might have other arrangements. Oh well, good things are worth waiting for.