Bloody hell.
This was brilliant.
I really really enjoyed this months Wigan WOL open floor evening.
Darren Thomas was our compere and I thought he presented it very well. I'm a fan of course.

For me, the thing I enjoyed was to see the poets mature and improve, especially with the confidence delivery. I enjoyed the newcomers - a new element was injected into the evening with the influx - it's really special and exciting- and REWARDING to see the success of this evening and thanks go to the WOL team and all past and present who have helped to make this event blossom.

I think one of my favourite shows this summer.
Lets make the next one just as good.

thanks to all who attended so great to see this happen

A victory for spoken word


Has anyone got a set-list? Can we run through the poets and give a brief synopsis? Darren, anyone sober this night?

Paul Blackburn particularly stormed the show- its like he's been slowly coiling up, he's one of those springs in a clockwork toy that whip you when they pop out of the bolt-on enclosure.....

Once again

THANKS POETS AND AUDIENCE YOU WERE GRRRRRRRRREAT!

Pete - I'm writing a review as we speak...

The photos (sorry about the poor quality I must get a better camera) are up in Galleries and I think every performer is there - well John Togher's almost there - so that's your set list Pete.

First of all, may I thank all those people that made the effort to attend and either perform or watch others perform at The Tudor House Hotel over here in Wigan last night. Some members arrived via public transport and for that, I’m left with no other option but to commend them all. Was it worth it? Well, I certainly thought so.

That’s the beauty of Wigan’s open mic. You just never know what it is you’re going to get? Well, you do to a certain extent. After all, Wigan is not Wigan without the likes of John and Sandre’ Clays, John Togher and to a lesser degree - Paul Blackburn. I always feel that Paul excels himself when he performs at Wigan, maybe it’s the elevated stage and the dim lighting? Whatever it is - unlike me, it agrees with him.

Not many people actually enjoy being the first poet in the running order, for various reasons I’m sure, but John Togher was the first of, what turned out to be, a very diverse group. He stepped to the poetic plate and performed several pieces of work that have become familiar over the last few months but are always worth listening to. In John’s defence he hadn’t prepared anything, he was at the Tudor to simply grow his hair in temperate conditions and observe others poets and listen to their work (excuse No 424 in the poet’s list of bumper excuses). However, there aren’t too many poets that can get away with some of the material that John talks about, and he does it with great skill and rather worryingly, an intense knowledge of his subject matter.

Following in the sizeable wake of JT, albeit probably not directly, was the first of a series of fresh and very talented men from the other side of Wigan’s own universe - Manchester. Rob Tame performed with all the confidence and craft that comes with knowing that what you have to say is both well rehearsed and entertaining. Without the aid of written notes (what is it with these people?) he drew from memory his entire performance. I was so much in awe that I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about - and if I did - I’ve since forgotten.

Philip Golding is not only a quite remarkable man - he’s a bloody good poet too. I’m sure that most of us are aware that Phil has a condition where its debilitation fluctuates and can therefore manifest itself in various ways. He doesn’t try to conceal that fact - on the contrary, he challenges himself emotionally and physiologically and performs, always, to the best of his ability. He’s a prolific writer and if I possessed headgear of any description, I would remove it and doff it accordingly Sir. Perhaps Mel could lend me one of her more masculine hats?


Stevie Turner has more shoes than Imelda Marcos. If poetry was measured on the style and design of your footwear, Stevie is the new Poet Laureate. Unfortunately - it’s not. Fortunately for Stevie, his poetry is as significant to a poetry audience as his shoes would be to the catwalk audiences of Milan. He asked me could he have a copy of what I’d written when I introduced him, so Stevie - here it is.


“Stevie Turner is an exception to the rule I before E except after Steve. His poetry appears rock solid. However, leave it to thaw and it reveals a softness and an acute observation of the madness that we rather flippantly call the ‘demarkation of insipid relationship implosion of love and all things which curl’. Confused?
In other words, listen and yeah shall learn the real art of unravelling the mystery of multilayered poetry“.

No - it doesn’t make sense to me when it’s taken out of context. By ’context’ I mean of course, drunkenness.


Following in the high-heels of Stevie was of course Melanie Rees. Mel looked a little anxious at the start of the evening and I’m sure she won’t mind me saying that she appeared what can only be described as ‘emotional’. This emotion however, is what fuels Melanie’s creativity. Performance does not do her poetry justice. It is far too intimate to be shared on a stage with dozens of other men (and women) salivating over her every word. Yet, she chooses to share that intimacy with us, and for that we can only be grateful. If you haven’t had the chance to read her work then you must do so…Now..! Go on..!! This review can wait…

Good init?

After Mel - the Golden Fleece of poetry, we were treated to a fantastic treat. Free drinks all round courtesy of Write Out Loud? No. Better than that (but only marginally) we had Dominic Berry. I’d only ever seen Dom’ perform on one other occasion before last night and I remembered him. This alone told me something. He’s another one of those poets that perform without notes (Ba’stad) and his animated performance and delivery complemented his spoken word beautifully. Don’t ask me what he was talking about - I’m sure some members of the audience could tell us. I just remember thinking that his performance was how a ‘performance poem’ should be performed. If that makes sense?

Dominic was a big act to follow and it never feels right when you have to get on stage and you can still smell the cordite left by the smoking gun of a fine performance. Enter stage right Mr Paul Blackburn. Now, PB has performed poetry at many a venue and there is a saying that familiarity can of course breed contempt. Wigan is all too familiar with the concept of breeding, and perhaps this is what spurred Paul on to raise his own particular poetic bar. His poem was new. Well ,I’d never heard it before. It had a beginning, a middle and, fortunately, an ending. All this within six minutes. It had humour, irony, melancholy and perhaps every other emotion that you’d expect when talking about yourself as a 16 year old boy. By the end, I think he’d convinced himself that he WAS sixteen. A great imagination and a fantastic performance from a man who didn’t even put himself on the running list in the first instance. Shame on you Blackburn.

I may have missed somebody here? Gordon?
Yeah - Gordon Zola (again without notes) gave us his folk song and try as you might, you could not help but sing along with the chorus. Which of course was his intention. He's corrupting our minds with folk music folks.

Ooh yeah - Ben Richards. For me, Ben and Paul were the highlights of last night’s show. Ben is new to me but an obvious seasoned performer. His performance perhaps represents what ‘performance poetry’ is, or arguably should be, at its very best. Again, no word sheets to prompt, which left him with every available limb with which to express himself with - which he did to great effect. Very clever and very fast delivery with alliteration and a combination of words that sounded like they put extreme demands on his vocal articulators. His facial expressions married with his words in the right and wrong places where appropriate, and he delivered a performance that was perhaps one of the best I’d seen at the Tudor. On a poetry night at least. Simply brilliant.


Last night at the Tudor we also saw both sides of the Peter Crompton coin. While this may sound illegal, it did in fact highlight Peter’s skill as a poet. He would be the last person to compliment his own work or say that he felt that he ‘did good’, but the man ‘did good’. Wigan is, I feel, his comfort zone, and this reflects in his performances at this venue. We were treated to a softer more intimate side of his creativity with his first poem, but you always knew that this was the appetisers to his fillet steak ‘vocal’ finale.
Whichever you prefer, Pete always gives us our fill of what it is we want to see. He may look like a “12 year old” in his Galleries picture, but his poetry is straight from the mind of a thinking man.

Sandre Clays and her husband John are in line for a long service and good conduct medal. At least they would have been if their careers had taken on different paths. Yet they chose poetry as their creative outlet and Wigan would simply not be Wigan without the contributions that they both make to the poetry nights. In between the theatrics, their sobering words are a fine example of the many dimensions in which poetry operates and they are a much needed foil to the pantomime that can develop around some of us. Well - for a few minutes at least.

Julian Jordan. What can I say? He rolled his R’s at us. So, we simply rolled them back. Any man that can get the phrase ‘bilabial plosive’ into a poem and it still make sense (without resorting to vulgarity) deserves any accolades that are rolled his way along with a fist full of R’s.



Dam Robinson was the final poet. He won the Wigan slam on this very stage and it was perhaps that reason which allowed him to sit and perform some of his work. You don’t win slams if you’re not a good poet/performer (contrary to the urban myths). Dam Robinson is an excellent poet and performs in his own inimitable way. Together with every one of the poets on the night he excelled himself.


Before last night I commented that the night at Wigan was becoming a little stale through no fault of anybody. Last night reaffirmed my belief in performance poetry as I personally thought it was a ‘reet good do’. Having said that, it’s usually the compere who is the difference between a good night and a great night, but last night, it was the poets and their performances which made that all important difference.

So come on some of you 300+ members of Write Out Loud. Wigan is the ideal place to begin, develop and ultimately enjoy both your own poetry and that of other like minded people.

I thoroughly enjoyed the night, and Darren's compering set the tone… well,
Sorry that should read 'set the tone well' but I thought I would adopt Darren's comedic bathetics.
Excellent 'do'.
Encore!

Wigan? Loved it!

This was my first Writeoutloud gig, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Loved seeing everyone perform and meeting so many friendly faces. I have a feeling it will not be my last visit.

As I write this comment Darren I see that I am not the only insomniac.

Thank you for the kind words you wrote about me as part of your review on what was, for me, one of the best WOL gigs I have been to. Darren you are a natural at hosting with dry humour at its best.

I think you would be hard pushed to find the wrange and quality of poems on show in Wigan that night. It was an absolute treat, not only to perform at, but also listen to.
Once again The Tudor Inn sets the standard.

One of my maxims is that you can either hide in the corner or take life on, on your terms regardless of what cards have been dealt. So with my writing and performing so warmly supported by the WOL gang I, in turn, raise my cap in solute to you all

very sorry to have missed this night : (

will try and make the next one

steve

Sandy and John had a fabulous time and we hope for more wonderful events in the future. By the way, we love being naughty poets and we don't care if we're getting old. Thank you for being so kind