I was just nipping in and out of the newly refurbished Mount Pavilion. Just lending my support for a few minutes. Over an hour later I was like a hyperactive Haribo-munching seal, happy-clapping along with the my fellow audience members, joining the rapturous applause and whoops. A satisfied audience? You betcha!
The slam session started off with local poet Steve Stroud who gave a solid performance of word elegance and beauty. One of my favourites from Steve’s set was a poem about a local bus journey which was not only a literary masterpiece, but had great command of humour.
Big Charlie Poet performed a touching poem about wanting to be a Dad. Blimey, the heart-warming flow even got me feeling broody. Grozwel (aka Ryan) had a more likeable Ali G feel about his set with witty word play matching itself against urban slang.
Throughout the slam, compere Colin Davies used his witty, if not often risky, humour to fully engage the audience. His enthusiasm for the art form only added to the excitement, and vibrant vibe that filled this amazing space.
As well as compering Colin was able to deliver some of his own repertoire, which packed such a political punch it would certainly knock the elite from their feet (see, even I have been bitten by the rhyming bug) if bellowed in Westminster. Colin’s set was both powerful and inspiring, so credit where it is due.
Finally it was time for the main event. Trevor Meaney performed a Wyre exclusive, Meaney’s Mouth Burst, which is to be performed at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Fair play and full credit to the Lancashire Dead Good Poet Society for having not only the ambition, but the vision (I’m on a rhyming roll) to bring such an acclaimed act to the Fylde coast. The people of Fleetwood were truly rewarded with a lyrical treat fropm Meaney’s set.
Packed with the same humour and wit that has blessed the great John Cooper Clarke, Meaney was engagingly animated in his delivery.
Standouts from his near 50 minute set included his past close destructive relationship with Cannabis and a belly laughing train ride from Lancaster to London which pulled into the station with a spit-your-brew-out ending. Piece of meat, as the title suggests, is about the way some women are treated as a commodity. It leant towards the more sleazy side of lecherous than the physiological side of the ‘Male Gaze’ but even in its crude manner it still had the power to make one think how you view the opposite sex.
Some shorter poems followed, still bursting with humour and quality, finished off the set. Then it was off into the sunset with a feeling of deep satisfaction but a thirsty appetite for more.
The Lancashire Dead Good Poets meet on the first Friday of every month at Cafe Number Five, Cedar Square, Blackpool. They also run poetry workshops at Central Library on the last Saturday of the month, 11am to 1pm. You can follow them on Facebook or read their musings on the Dead Good Blog.
Images courtesy of Two Old Birds With Cameras.
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