Saturday, 19 April 2014

John Cooper Clarke

John Cooper Clarke

It was the first time I'd been to anything like it. Performance poetry, any sort of talk or reading, in fact. Luckily, AD is brilliant at recognising uselessness in others, shrugging his shoulders, and sorting out the tickets for the gigs. Luckier still, we secured a ticket for MM at a very nearly sold out show.

This was John Cooper Clarke and friends. He's got some pretty good mates. First on was Luke Wright. About a 75 / 25 split, stand-up and introductions / poems, he started with something like Fat Dandy, celebrating the larger man with a love of fine clothes. I liked The Bastard Of Bungay, every town and village has (at least) one of these whiskery old curmudgeons bemoaning the demise of everything they (and the Daily Mail) hold dear:

You’ve never seen such mobile jowls
or smelt such ripe productive bowels
and what the old boy does with vowels ….
The Glarston-berry Fustivowel?
Pow-pow with The Bastard of Bungay

Geoffrey Howe? Yes, very pleasant
I say, that’s truly corking pheasant
Ant and Dec? Contemptible peasants!
The present Bastard of Bungay

Then Mike Garry, more intense, not lacking humour, but happier with more obscure references, he referred to the balance of the evening, and he worked well between Wright and Cooper Clarke. Soldier Boy:

Boots scrape on Crumpsall cobbled streets
Inside the boots are fifteen year old feet
Khaki pants tight at the ankle
Grip and hold like a white slave manacled...

A caravan in the shopping centre
A man handing out leaflets showing boys on adventure
Smiling faces and glowing cheeks
But the leaflets are lies and the caravan man's a cheat...

And he'll send them off to some sun-drenched front
To fight a war that no one wants
A roadside bomb ends it all
Then home in a box to Lower Crumpsall

Then JohnCooper Clarke, much less harsh, much more whimsical than I'd anticipated. I suppose it's difficult to maintain an angry persona when you're the voice of McCain's Oven Chips. About 85% (white stage lights) stand-up / raconteur / old fashioned comedian (as in telling the audience jokes):

D'you know what? Any woman from this town who is faithful to her husband, boyfriend, or partner for five years actually gets a telegram from the Queen...does anyone know what it says?

[Pause]...

No, I didn't think so.

And 15% poems (dramatic change to coloured lights) he was simply great entertainment. Another arse-breather, he didn't stop for a moment, nothing apart from the occasional giggle interrupted the flow.

Frequently referring to the recently received honorary doctorate: “now I'm medical and everything”, and pleased with The Sopranos featuring Evidently Chickentown, like Madness, like HMHB, like Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the audience gets the benefit of all those years experience, knowing how to send people home happy.

Respecting the no (or not very much) bad language rule, here's a link to Evidently Chickentown:


Us used in the Sporanos:



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