Seven Days & Seven Nights Performance / Poetry & Spoken Word

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Lyric Lounge Publication 2009

Foreword

Welcome to the Lyric Lounge Publication

Lydia Towsey
Lyric Lounge Artistic Director
2009

The Lyric Lounge was seven days and seven nights of poetry, spoken word and live literature. Taking place at The Y Theatre, Leicester and programmed to coincide with and celebrate The Special Olympics, it was a unique event in the region’s literary history.

It’s hard to adequately convey the atmosphere of ‘The Lounge’. The week saw hoards of people descend from the moment we opened our doors to the moment we closed each night. We ran from 11am to 11pm. At any one time there were between 30 and 50 people in the space. Evening shows attracted between one and two hundred people. The Lyric Lounge resulted in over 30 new writing and performance commissions.

It engaged many more artists in workshop facilitation and other creative roles. It motivated an impressive number of volunteers to support its delivery. It energised a whole community.

Each day The Lounge was themed with a different colour and programmed to particularly address specific audiences. ‘Green Thursday' featured ‘The Edge’ and was all about young people. ‘Pink Monday' ended in ‘Showcase Live’ and particularly targeted people with experience of mental health problems. However, the beauty of the festival was the way in which different audiences mixed together.

Alongside it’s shifting programme there was a fixed structure with rolling elements. On any day, visitors could have a one-one session with Book Doctor, Alison Dunne of Leicester City Libraries, or with Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze, the internationally acclaimed poet and Lounge Patron. There were opportunities to draw with Tim Clarke, our Artist in Residence and between 1 and 2pm each day a ‘Lyrical Lunchtime’: an open mic with booked slots, to share what was being created.

On the opening weekend we played a range of specially curated poetry films, including a specially commissioned showing of Steve Tasane’s ‘Talkies’ and throughout the week there were many other opportunities to engage. Notably these included a visiting ‘bus’ fully augmented with multimedia equipment for young people (in the event of exceptionally diverse backgrounds) to make films with.

Two of these recently showed at the BFI, London. However, between programmed elements people would still be in the bar or theatre, hanging out, drinking coffee, talking about, reading or writing poetry.

The Lyric Lounge succeeded in substantially strengthening the already strong literature community - and also uniting many other communities around it’s banner. Today, at nights like WORD! or events programmed by other organisations from 2Funky Arts to the Leicester Libraries, this strengthened sense of community continues to flourish. I can think of no better legacy.

Poetry & Lyrics

Selected Poetry & Lyrics performed throughout the Lyric Lounge Week

Saturday Quote

Jean 'Binta' Breeze

I think of word relaxing on settees
casting their spell
on those gathered in the room
finding meaning in each greeting
seducing ears with funky tales

Tell me now if you have heard this story
another hero, another age of glory
will you gather poems in your hands
and send them off the stage
dancing to their rhymes.

I think of words rippling to the beat
metaphors invited to come in off the street
suppose we dress up letters
wrap them up in laughs and tears
and send them off to speak
about our loves and fears.

Come sit with me while poets weave their magic
painting with each breath another colourful lyric
shaken stirred and swallowed
this lounge becomes the hallowed
we bow our heads to one final amen
our pockets full of truths we never spent

I think of sentences on comfortable chairs
of moments in performance that make us gasp for air
each day warming to the sound
each night lighting, lingering, loud
magnificently crowning speech in the lyric lounge.

Boston.J.Williams / Commercially

Commercially these halfwit MCs would have you believe that they're deep
inadvertently you believe the deceptive dialect in which they speak
but would you kindly allow me to speak? Thank you.
Its only right that I should start in the streets,
god forbid that I should see another brother or sister starve in the streets
unfortunate as it may be
I bear witness to many brothers and sisters of whom have and still do start in the street
and so I step forth as they do, in their plea for warmth
I am humble for I shall not plea for sweltering heat
but warmth,
to ignite the amphibious blood that circulates my withered body
from weak and incapable feet, swollen and bruised hands
to my hollow and tainted soul
by any means necessary
we, will prove to them
we, we will show to them
that being a black man is not skin deep.

Sunday Quote

Lucy English / I WANT TO BE A BITCH!

I’m sick of being sweet and charming.
Uncomplaining, undemanding.
I want to tell it how it is.
I want to be a bitch.

I want to say to my best friend.
You look awful in that dress,
like a bag of potatoes with a ribbon tied round.
And you need to lose weight. About three stone.
And that husband of yours
is a pompous bore, and is having an affair
with your sister. (I promised not to say.)
And she’s pregnant and, by the way, your children,
are ugly and not too bright, and can you please
stop talking about them all the time. Alright?

And I want to say to my mum. Shut up.
Shut up talking about curtains, and that little bit of stuff
you found in the market will make a nice cushion,
and in the high street they’ve just opened up a nice new boutique
that sells Jacques Verte.
I do not care. And I do not care about Mrs. Whatsit’s
eldest daughter Clare, who did so well and now she’s married to a doctor.
Mum, can you please say something that’s interesting,
like what do you think about global warming
and poverty in America?
And do you think you’ve got dementia?

And I want to say to my dad.
Stop giving me tomato plants. They always die.
And yes, I do know that if I took the second turning off the B31106
I would get there twenty minutes earlier.
And no, I don’t want a very useful book on how to mend my fridge.
And yes, I do know how to download my photographs,
And dad, why have you not hugged me since I first grew breasts?
And why don’t you go and see a therapist?

And I want to say to my daughter.
Stop showing me your scribbly drawings.
You have no talent, none, whatsoever.
But that won’t stop you getting into art school.
So why don’t you go now and stop bothering me
with your latest “do you think he fancies me I think he fancies my mate Lisa?”
Darling, can you please grow up. I mean you are nineteen.
Is there nothing in your brain but mobile phones and celebrity must haves?
Please learn to live on what you earn
rather than buying handbags.
Why don’t you go backpacking to Thailand or Goa?
Why don’t you go anywhere but here?

And I want to say to my son. Hello? Hello?
Is anybody in there, apart from MP3’s and tomb raider level six?
Have you, like, forgotten, how to, like yeah,
have a conversation with somebody, like whatever.
And you smell. I mean really bad, like last month’s cheese.
And can you look at me instead of at your feet,
and take that bloody woolly hat off, please.

And I want to say to my partner,
Just do it. Go and buy a Harley and black leathers
and work out your midlife crisis.
I know, I know, your job’s a bore,
You’re out of shape; you don’t know where it’s all going.
So why don’t you fuck off to Bali
and find some twenty two year old who’s drugged up enough
to want to sleep with you.
Go swimming naked in the sea.
Fry your brains with ecstasy.

And I want to look in the mirror and say to myself.
What the fuck are you doing?
What are you? A one woman cooking, cleaning, washing, counselling machine?
What are you? Fabulous at forty? I don’t think so.
You’re underpaid and overweight.
Has it really come to this? The ten pounds you spent on a top
in TK max to make you feel young?
And what’s worse, you’ll never wear it.
Why don’t you just go down the station and take the next train out?

Why don’t you find out what you want?
Do all those things you said you would,
Like learn Spanish, live in Prague, climb Scafel Pike.
Wear red trousers and a quirky hat.
Shout more. Tell it how it is.
I’m going to like being a bitch.

Lydia Towsey / Looking Glass

Some people hear words.
Some people hear sounds.
Someone speaks, an orchestra plays.
A dust cart sweeps, a choir raves.

Some people hear music
in sentences, music
in recipes,
music in prayers.

And he is sitting in a bar
in the middle of the night
hunched over a keyboard, knuckles white.

And words are keys on a pianos face.
Words are there in the falling rain.
Words are just sounds.

A women walking, is a saxophone
A piano playing is a tiny home
with the moon like a bone
and the sky like lingerie.

A nine bar blues
is a word like sex
repeated,
insistently

And a riff is a dream
you can pack in a chest
A score is sheet
pulled over a bed.

And the music has words.

A congo is chanting a name.
A trumpet is scatting a phrase.
A cello’s describing the shape of a neck
A saxophone’s saying it feels like a wreck

He’s describing the sound of a gin
describing the sound
of a women who’s watching.

Some people hear words.
Some people hear sounds.

And they hang in the dark.
And the night sings alone.

Alison Dunne / Poem For A New Home

This above all is precious and remarkable
How we put ourselves in one another's care
How in spite of everything we trust each other
- John Wain

I don’t know anything except
this morning one man handed another
a bag of tea and biscuits
that a woman is giving a sofa
and I will bring out of my loft
the ends and slats of a bed.

To prosper is to accept the good
that comes to you.

On the day you’re looking at the flat
we see on Googlemaps the street
the little roofs and yards
This is the beginning and the end of something.

My lover tells me
this city is beautiful
as we drink coffee in the sun.
He shows me, even the paper tubes of sugar are beautiful.
It’s how you look at things, he says.

To prosper is to accept the good
that comes to you.

In my pocket is a promise.
I will meet whoever comes
with my hands open.

Monday Quote

Nabil Musa / Piece.

Last night I went to sleep as a child
When I woke up this morning I was a man
I would like to go for a walk
I would like to talk
I am cold
When I am cold can I be sad?
A Big bomb explodes!
Black smoke covers the sun
Shall I go to kill someone?
Or shall I go for a walk?
Walking, walking
A big voice explodes!
Another big bomb!
Black smoke covers the sun
Black smoke covers the mind
Black smoke covers the throat
Can you stop telling me to be happy
Just because of Obama
Stop telling me, stop telling me
You keep telling me stop reading Sarah Kane's plays
You’re going to end up killing yourself
Shall I go to kill someone?
Or shall I go for a walk?

Nick King / Bees in our drinks

My Granddad was from a generation
Where they didn’t even
Feel the need to hide
Their more offensive opinions

I always remember him
Justifying everything
By the fact that
He had defended us all from the Nazis

I also remember
It becoming increasingly obvious
That he was in fact
A Nazi himself!

He once took issue
With ‘Friends of the Earth’
Being in the news :
`What’s all this about save the whales?
What do we need whales for?'
He was being perfectly serious!

Carlton Brown / God Speaking Voices by Thunder and Lightening

Another time,
nurses came
the outreach team
took me to the hospital
for a medication change.
Laying down
in the hospital dormitory room
the rain came down
thunder and lightening
God said
in a voice saying:
Speaking angel.
I remembered to do my training
in the dorm
shadow boxing,
in thunder and lightening,
then after I’ve finished
the storm of rain,
of thunder and lightening
spoke again. A voice said:
Allah contarat this -
is what you said God.

Vernski Noble / Drums

When I wake
I hear the beat playing still,
it gets annoying
tap, tap, tap, tap.
Still I hear the singing
The voices, the drum.
There are birds singing
I hear them say
they’ve slept well
and good morning to each other.
One had a dream where it was human,
but it’s still flying.
Wow. I’d love to fly
away where there is no drum in my head
to freedom and beyond.

Ben / Voices

People communicate in many ways as well as speaking e.g. African drumming, and voices can be heard directly (spoken to you) or indirectly (second person). There are many different languages from culture to culture and means of expressing and interpreting commune.

Voices can be explained as the communications that tells us what is what and where in this universe. Physical structures have names, meanings and representations. As well as symbolic meanings and ancient references.

(...) My voice is my own tool to speak out about my principles. To interpret one’s principles in mischievous ways isn’t for practice. Everytime I is speaking entirely on impulse.

Jason / Voices

Inside the shop I need some bread
Alcohol, alcohol are the voices in my head

Oh no I don’t want to drink
you need to drink, you cannot think

Four cans of Skol super please
I say to the cashier

I can feel myself sweating
ha ha he’s going to laugh
the voices say as I pull out the cash

Did he say eight cans and some fags?
The voices say ha ha I’ll get you trashed

The sweat pours down my back and face
please let me get out of this place
I don’t feel part of the human race
I hate these beers they’re a horrible taste

Moses I Banton / Voices

when I was homeless
I used to drink
so I would not feel the cold
and walk up the street
people use to say
he’s a mess
but I never had nothing to eat
but how did I get this way
with the voices telling me
perhaps you are gay

I hear voices
I hear voices

whether it’s right or wrong
I hope it’s the right the voice
telling me where I belong

Idris Kara / Summer and Winter

That winter was particularly memorable because an odd thing happened a bunch of Rastafarians and some other people forced to live on the estate where I lived protested outside the housing association that rented us our properties. There was one Rasta that stood out in particular. He stood up and said

“You give us no work, then rent us homes that have no sound proofing and that are too expensive to heat. Then you hike up the rent, were not asking for much just that you make some simple improvements to our estate. Look at the conditions that we have to bring our families up in. we are only asking for the right to be treated like human beings

A crowd gathered and there must have been at least fifty people involved in the protest. It got quite heated as many of the people had carried these frustrations for a long time and now that they had the opportunity, they wanted to be heard.

I stirred it up a bit by shouting at a guy that I knew that worked for the housing association. His name was Jamaal he was housing officer for my block and he had a bad habit of regarding you with a look of veiled disgust every time you walked into the office and asked for something. He stood there with a smug look of superiority watching the protest, so I shouted,

“Oi Jamal you don’t live in a shit hole like we do, bet your house has proper facilities, you’re an asshole mate”

The crowd picked up on this and a cry went up,

“Jamaal is an asshole…. Jamaal is an asshole

What have I done, he shrugged his shoulder and said “I only work here?”

Shortly after the police turned up and dispersed us all on the threat that it was illegal to protest outside a government building and that we were disturbing the peace.

I feel compelled to tell you this story because I doubt you will read about it in the Leicester Mercury or hear about it on the BBC Radio Leicester, but it happened I was there.

Dean / Summertime

but slowly as the snowman starts to melt
and the sun starts to reveal itself
bringing more and more smiles on people’s faces
it can only be the start
of summertime.
Car roofs are taken off,
windows are fully open
sunglasses are put on
and people fight for the shade
maybe to have a picnic in
I still wonder why
sunshine brings a better person
out in all of us.
Maybe its the warmth
that makes us feel happy.

Tubu / Women Men an yutes voices I hear

Me hear a man say good mourn in me say good mourn to him
Me walk to e Shop in centre. On day way to da shop in centre me here yutes talk to dere Mammys & Mammys talk to dere Pickmeago
Me buy new claat an put me new claat on ina e Shop an walk outa e Shop afta me pay fe me new claat ca me waan tu
Me come a e 27/07/09 show fe practice
Me hear ery Body say dere part a e show
Some a e smaddy and dem type up at da practice sayshone
Time to go now
(Effect), (shout excite) me feel hungryaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!
Me say see ya to all at da show an reach ina me bag a yam fruits
I av fe walk to me Yard where me relax

Good Day,
Have a good Summa.

Tuesday Quote

Jean `Binta' Breeze / To the Music.

The rum is in my blood
the drum is in my head
the thought of coffee and a smoke
gets me out of bed

What happened to the sun today
so much colder than yesterday
makes me feel so old and grey
hope that I can find my way

To the music
To the music
To a warm backroom
To the studio
To the base drums
And guitars.
To the mellow nots of he saxophone
To the crooning of the voice.

Wake me up baby
With the hair of the dog
Stir me and shake me
So my blood doesn’t clog
Ease me over the mountain top
Hold me with the base
So the rhythm won’t drop
From reggae to rock
To electric shock
Forget about the weather
Forget about the clock
Slowly forgeting the morning blues
Wake me up gently
Don’t blow my fuse
Because
The rum is in my blood
The drum is in my head
Another coffee and a smoke
Now I’m feeling red

Take me back
To the music
To the music
To a warm backroom
To the studio
To the base drums
And guitars.
To the mellow notes of he saxophone
To the crooning of the voice.

Jean `Binta' Breeze / Innocence

It’s a tight knit group this one
I caught them filling in forms
sitting in a circle
feeding back
their tones are soft and gentle
their smiles are shy like a summers day
when clouds keep bright sun at bay
in the theatre
time seems hushed
as they peep from behind grey curtains
they took their time to set the stage
and now the music breaks the silence

I’m amazed at the attention to detail
would you marry me my love?
It’s a restaurant proposal
and he is down on his knees
they break again to silence
and the music brings us back

There are no words
Just this music
That seems to calm us all
It doesn’t break their concentration
no voices break the magic
until the beautiful wedding scene is due
and there’s 3 chairs for the couple

I am touched in ways I can’t explain
like something lost
and something gained
like innocent flowers opening to rain
like when joy conquers pain

So twinkle twinkle my little stars
now I want to find out who you are
sometimes strange then familiar
your love will reach us from afar.

Jean `Binta' Breeze / Humour Me

Make me laugh
make me cry
make me sing a lullabye
make me blink
make me think
throw in the kitchen sink
to make a joke
about your pain
to bring the sun out
when it rains
it’s your story
tell it well
release your mind
from any spell
when the medication grips you
find a line that will just rip through
all the sleepiness of shadows
all the thoughts of sad tomorrows
all the demons and the sorrows
all the memories full of horrors
make me laugh
make me cry
make me sing
a lullabye
make me lift my head up high
make me reach up for the sky

Imagine another punch line
that will stop me in my tracks
tell me a crazy story
so I bend until I crack
If you should spot me now
sitting sadly at the back
could you tease my smile with lyrics
bring out the humour that I lack

Make me laugh
make me cry
make me sing a lullabye
when the world tries to defeat me
when my head is bowed with fear
when no word of joy can reach me
from all the voices that I hear
when my heart hangs low and heavy
and the panic button’s punched
when logic and reason leave me
and you think I’m out to lunch

Make me laugh
make me cry
make me sing a lullabye
make me dance
then take a chance
bring me joy before I die.

Graham Norman / Why I love Matisse

She has this picture, a Matisse,
pulled from a colour supplement
oh, years ago; it’s pressed like a summer flower
in a clipframe, the staple holes pushed flat.
It hangs where she can see it as she rests on pillows.

A woman lies on a low bed
sleeping, her companion looks out
tall windows to a Mediterranean sea
that’s as green and hot as the room they’re in.
You can feel their female languor and aloneness.

She will gaze at it for hours, so long,
she’s travelled all the way through France;
now she is resting on that bed in a red gown
and standing at a high window looking south

That is why I love Matisse.

Wednesday Quote

Anne Holloway / Sherpa (extract)

He always wore that watch, strapped to his wrist.
Engineered for action it would never see -
clean face and strong hands -
second hand tipped red like cupid’s arrow
pointing to each of us in turn, never resting on one
. Dictating our timetable -
set by the pips on the B B C.

Radio 4 was his constant companion.
Programme less important than the tone or pace,
the soundtrack to his careful life.

Fay Roberts / I keep my head in a box (extract)

I keep my head in a box
It’s sides are straight
Edges ordered, corners reinforced
Well-constructed border
In all four directions.  
It’s dark in the box, and quiet
Nothing disturbs what’s inside.
The cries of the world muffled
It rests inside – unruffled and unchanging.  
It’s warm in the box.
Close and still and stale in the box...
Rebreathing the same vapours –
Untouched by the slightest hint of...
Weather... 

Pam Thompson / Resurrection

After he’d gone, she thought she’d bring him back
so she scoured the house for traces of his hair,
semen, blood and skin: epithelia from a comb;

from her sheets; from underneath her nails.
She ransacked sweat from a shirt he’d left;
swabbed piss and shit from the toilet rim.

And conjured him on a night when a gibbous moon
stormed in and out of the clouds like a temper:
blank-faced, dumb; an Angel of the North without wings.

Flight was never in her plan. She watched him
through all weathers and parked her car a little closer
when it rained to get a better view. Saw time turn its tricks,

how his skin sagged, fell away from bones. And how rooks,
nesting in the cavity where his heart once lay, pecked
at shreds, and, she swears, spat them out.

Jason Finn / Extract

She wasn’t just the prettiest girl in school: she was the prettiest girl in ANY SCHOOL: EVER. Her looks were legendary. Cleopatra would have knelt at the altar of Carmen’s beauty. If Helen of Troy would have but glanced upon her face she would have wept a waterfall of jealous tears, and the ships would have sailed in the other direction. Carmen’s divine beauty was the reason behind Mona Lisa’s clenched lip covetous demi smile. If the devil had but caught a glimpse of Carmen he would have repented all of his sins: and meant it.

Thursday Quote

Mombowie Starchild / From Non Est Ad Astra Mollis E Terris Via

o come on what is wrong with the human heart,
That it cannot have love without tearing it apart?
His art was subtle as a silent dance in the dark,
Sirens I was blind to – deaf to all alarms.
Disarmed me then harmed me where he knew it would hurt,
Criticised me ‘til I craved him to assuage where he’d burnt.
Served insecurities with acerbic urgent words,
Told me I was nothing then said I was his world.
He said I was his only girl - made me swear I’d never leave him,
‘Til I came to believe him – depend on and need him,
Feeding lethal brain freeze of sweet pleasure… then pain.
So rained in cursed names to nurse my cursed shame
From kisses to missiles, lip’s whisper to crashing fists
I’m Tina Turner asking: “What’s love got to do with it?”
When he’d punch me black and blue I’d excuse the fusillade,
Accuse myself of somehow being where to lay the blame.
Oh! loyalty is ignorant, its tattoo drew in strange pigments,
Makes your view skewed screws you with its disabling figment.
But the truth pursued me, it moved me one June morning last year,
He came home effusing a stranger’s perfume and stale beer.
Sleep must’ve made me stupid – I refused his crude advance,
So he took that cue to renew in me exactly where I stand.
Grabbed and manhandled me struggling to the mirror,
Spat I’d always be his ‘cos who else really is there?
As I stared at the glass, I was moved to consider
The familiar glimmer of my mum’s battered figure.
Something shifted - now hard slaps only sharpened my vision,
Aligned in me my senses where before had been division.
Clarity brought indignance, indignance dug up hate,
A blood-red haze veiled me as he hit me in the face,
On the dressing-table scissors, my reflection in the blades,
In my rage my digits gripped them..!
What came next can’t clearly say…

Takudzwa / Wannabe Gangster

Some people say they want to be a gangster but don`t know what is coming their way. Like going to jail, or getting a bad education. Like people at school want to be a gangster. They think they’re bad, they pick fights, they give attitude to teachers and they think that’s cool. They think that they can get away with it. They just want to be a gangster. They think people will be scared of them, or that people will be their friends - that they’ll be popular. but in the future things aren’t going to be great.

Some people at my school, they smoke at a very young age - because they want to be a gangster but in future they might get cancer or die young.

Some people at my school, if they don’t like someone, if they don’t look right, if they just don’t fit - they have a go at them, they bully them, but in future, if they carry on, if they get worse, they might just go to jail.

Some people say they want to be a gangster but don`t know what is coming their way.

Tariro / Why Do They Do It To Me?

If you waked across the road with your friend no-one would say children these days.
so why do they do it to me?
If you walked home at night the police wouldn’t search you for a knife.
so why do they do it to me.
If you walked home with your little brother no-one would say he’s your son.
so why do they do it to me?
you wouldn’t get an after school for not liking someone.
so why do they do it to me.
If you walked into a shop no one would be quick to accuse you for stealing.
so why do they do it to me.
If you got 100% on your test no would think you were stupid.
so why do they do it to me?
some would say it’s because of the colour of my skin other would say its because of the way i come across

some people call me young
even though they know i’m not i with it.
some people call me young
because they don’t know what i have seen with these eyes which they often call blind
some people call me young
they see that some times i look bad and
all the issues with my dad
some people call me young.
so they think i’m unappreciated, unloved but they don’t understand that my past tells more than that.

some people call me young
so they put me in prison and treat me like they would an enemy

Friday Quote

Kim Chauhan / Goal!

An electricity charge that tingles up my spine,
I cannot help but shout and express my joy with sheer excitement.
I lift up my top, do somersaults and handstands,
I go crazy, just because i can.
I look out at the people who have come to support us.
I am happy that they are happy.
I love football.
I breathe football.
Its like Love,
It makes me feel on top of the world.
And no matter what people say,
I am proud of my team, even when we lose a game.
I don't lose faith.
I am just a piece of the puzzle,
The players are like spices,
Carefully arranged to create a mixture.
We all need each other to bring the ball to life,
Goals are only an action that bring the ball alive,
I love football,
I breathe football.

Stuart Michael Snowdon / I’m a one Woman Man

I’m a one woman man
And I don’t need to brag
About how many women
I’ve happened to shag.

I’m no Rod Stewart
Or Charles Aznavour,
I don’t want to be
a Hollywood Star.

I’m no Ron Jeremy,
Porno Pioneer
And Julian Cleary
Doesn’t make me feel queer.

I’m not a tough squaddie
Or medallion man;
Olive, not Popeye,
Is my number one fan.

You still make me laugh
At all the things that you do;
I want to grow old
And eccentric with you.

Rob Miller / Untitled

It might have been a wasp
Or it might have been a bee,
But some black and yellow stripey thing
Stung me
And whether it were a bee
Or whether it were a wasp,
It’ll certainly necessitate
A visit to the hospital.   

Bob Bennett

You smile
                     and give
             I smile
                     and take
             I smile
                     and have
             You wince
                     and quake


             I smile
                     and give
             You smile
                     and say
             I smile
                     and need
             Your smile
                     to stay


             Your smile
                     is mine
             But at
                     your loss?
             Without
                     your smile
             My smile
                     is gloss.

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Listen to audio

Essays

The Lyric Lounge Week essays.

2Funky Arts is a non-profit creative arts and development agency, committed to the creative learning and development of children and young people. Working through Rebecca Wooster, Vijay Mistry and Rickin Bilimoria, they were responsible for producing the Lyric Lounge. Appropriately, they kicked things off with I LUV LYRICS: an open mic competition for lyricists, poets, MCs and spoken word artists, aimed at young, emerging talent.

The event was compered by BBC 1Xtra’s home-grown presenter Ras Kwame, with the support of a live in-house band and fully wired tech desk. At stake was prestige, but also an artist development bursary, to help launch the winner as an artist.

Prior to the contest a series of I LUV LYRICS workshops had been programmed, led by Dreadlockalien with the support of Mother Hubbard and Andy Craven. Attending these, dozens of young people were able to hone skills, write new material and generally build confidence. In the final event, the top prize was taken by Boss Man, with the artist, Boom in close second place. The show attracted a full capacity audience and has laid the ground for further exciting work to be undertaken. For more information go to 2Funky Art’s website: www.2funkyarts.co.uk.

Other highlights from the first day included: ‘Poetry in Motion’, a reading from ‘Protein Songs’ with poet and editor Wayne Burrows and live film footage from the Retina Dance Company, who have adapted his work. Saturday also saw the first ‘Lyrical Lunchtime’ slot of the festival, featuring Patron, Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze. Jean read her specially commissioned piece ‘Lyric Lounge’ alongside performers from Tuesday’s ‘Special Olympics Cabaret’. Sunlight filled the bar and bowls of oranges decked the tables, all echoing the day’s official colour.

WORD! is Leicester’s leading spoken word organisation - delivering the longest running poetry and spoken word night in the East Midlands. Working through it’s compere and co-ordinator, Lydia Towsey, they were responsible for The Lyric Lounge’s artistic direction. Sunday was themed with their traditional red and saw them showcase the best of what they do.

The morning kicked off with ‘Coffee and Characters’ a masterclass in story writing, facilitated by Derby and Nottingham based writers, Amy Wilkinson and Aly Stoneman. Participants drank coffee and made ‘story cubes’, to find people and plots they never knew they had.

In the afternoon, the night’s booked act, Lucy English arrived to deliver a ‘WORD! Workshop’ in writing and performance. The resulting pieces ranged from the group to the individual and explored everything from Facebook and Twitter, to physical performance techniques.

The day ended with the main WORD! event - in which all stops were pulled for a breakthrough evening of live feed, bespoke visuals, open mic and a booked act. Compering the night, the Lounge’s Artistic Director, Lydia Towsey performed new work, first with music and visuals from the ‘Foot in Hand’ dance company, then with music from ‘Accortumn’ trio: Dave Dhonau, Ola Szmidt and Mike Sole (see Friday).

As ever WORD!s open mic was of an exceptionally high standard. Group pieces, made during the afternoon, were showcased and cameos turned. The illustrious line up included: The Lounge’s Book Doctor (Alison Dunne, of Leicester Libraries) and Dan, a poetry-writing dancer from the ‘Foot in Hand’ company - who’d come down with the whole troupe. The night ended with Lucy English, extolling the virtues of bitchiness and reducing the whole audience to laughter and silence, in equal measure.

Post Lounge, WORD!’s night continues to grow, and now features live music and visuals as standard. The event takes place on the first Tuesday of every month, at 8pm in The Y Theatre. For more information, please go to www.myspace.com/wordleicester.

After a busy weekend of open mics, workshops and lounging, Monday saw the arrival of both ‘The Book Doctor’, Alison Dunne and ‘Artist in Residence’, Tim Clarke. Setting up in the bar they worked tirelessly throughout the morning, with anyone seeking support, advise or just a spot of inspiration. Dr Dunne hung a white coat and stethoscope in the window and did bibiliotherapy and one to one writing surgeries. Tim Clarke painted and drew anything he could get his eyes on - and got others to do the same.

After a ‘Lyrical Lunchtime’ with local songstress Mellow Baku, there was a workshop to launch the Lounge’s in house art show: Poetry in Motion. It was led by Kevin Fegan (Artistic Director of Write Way Up, see Wednesday) and took work generated by The Leicester Society of Artists (LSA), as its subject matter. New and exciting writing, quickly developed. After a spot more lounging and a special ‘VIP Lounge Launch’ the day moved seamlessly into ‘Showcase Live’, the evening’s big event.

‘Showcase Live’ is a specialist spoken word project, supported by Leicestershire Partnership NHS Trust and produced by BrightSparks (the voluntary arts in mental health group) with support from Akwaaba Ayeh (the specialist BME mental health advocacy service). It targets young men, of predominantly BME origin, with experience of mental health problems.

‘Showcase Live’ at The Lounge featured nine young men, with many more feeding into its development process. Over the course of 10 sessions, artists were mentored by Lounge Patron, Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze and artistically directed by the renowned impresario, Melanie Abrahams. Further support was provided by Lounge Film Maker, Keith Allott and Composer, Dave Dhonau. Their final show saw a young man from Kurdistan blend dance, film and spoken word to describe his country’s political situation. Others touched upon homelessness and poor housing. Others still, spoke in patois, or imagined how birds might dream of becoming people, or how thunder might speak.

Showcase Live is one of only 10 projects in the UK to have been awarded Beacon Status by CSIP (Care Service Improvement Partnership). It has been featured by: ‘Mental Health Today’, the BBC’s ‘Headroom Season’, and Trutube. Documentaries about it, made by Trutube and Video Nation have been screened at the BFI (British Film Institute) and across the UK’s 10 ‘Big Screens’. The project is now planning its third cycle and actively seeking more participants from across the region.

Tuesday’s many highlights included: ‘Bridging the Gap’, an exciting panel debate, looking at the relationship between ‘page’ and ‘stage’ in poetry, and ‘The Special Olympics Cabaret’, featuring newly commissioned work by Lounge Patron, Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze.

The panel debate, hotly trailed on The Literature Network's website, saw a coming together of both sides. Panellists included: local performance poet, Sureshot, LPS (Leicester Poetry Society) representative, Graham Norman, The Book Doctor, Alison Dunne and Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze. Chaired by Lydia Towsey of WORD!, the debate examined the differences inherent in each approach. Sureshot argued for the power of the voice, while Graham extolled the internal voice of the reader. Jean said simply, that good poetry, was good poetry and should therefore work on both page or stage. The debate ended with the packed audience opening up to a range of new perspectives. Since The Lounge poets from WORD! have read at the LPS and poets from LPS performed at WORD! Joint projects are planned for the future.

The evening’s show had been keenly awaited. It featured five disability led arts groups: The Remit Music Group, The Remit Performing Arts Group, BrightSparks, The Adult Learning Group from Countesthorpe College and Movers Theatre Company. Over the course of two months, prior to the festival, Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze visited each group and wrote a poem for each. Compering their final cabaret, she used these poems to introduce each group - and the case of Remit’s Music Group, actually performed with them. It is hard to fully convey the electricity of this night. From Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze, rocking out with the band, to Movers Theatre, weaving magic with sound and lights, the night will be remembered for a long time.

Wednesday at The Lyric Lounge was a day for museums. It started bright and early when the ‘Leicestershire Open Museums Service’ arrived with a big box of artefacts. Setting them up the bar, visitors were encouraged and supported to explore and write poems - about everything from cracked dolls to old model houses. At the end of the morning, the lunchtime slot featured a performance from local poet and museum object devotee, Mark Goodwin, alongside young poets performing objects based work they had just written.

In the afternoon, a scout party of Loungers headed over to The Richard Attenborough Centre (RAC) for a ‘Lyric Lounge’ satellite workshop. The session, led by poet Deborah Tyler Bennett took the RAC’s ‘Streetstyle Sportstyle’ exhibition, as its inspiration. The result? Once again fresh work and new and exciting directions.

The evening saw ‘Write Way Up’: a showcase of new Lyric Lounge commissions. The night featured five up and coming talents, all of whom had won their commissions through a highly competitive audition process. It was artistically directed by Kevin Fegan, the acclaimed poet and playwright, and produced by poet and WORD! associate, Pam Thompson. ‘Write Way Up’ featured stunning music and visuals from the Lounge’s Film Maker and Composer. It wowed the crowd, made old things come alive and showcased museums to brand new audiences.

The performing artists continue to build on their success, returning to perform at WORD! within both booked act and open floor spots. Their future independent projects include: forthcoming journals, collaborative films and wider undertakings of performance.

On its penultimate day the Lounge surpassed itself with the arrival of John Hegley. ‘The God Father of Performance Poetry’ dropped by in the morning to lead a masterclass with four older men: poets, scheduled to perform with him as part of the Lounge’s big finale. After an intensive session, split between auditorium and workshop space, John and the group emerged to join in with the lunchtime slot.

Thursday’s ‘Lyrical Lunchtime’ saw Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze and John Hegley preside across the bar like the King and Queen of Poetry. Performing alongside them were the fantastic Nottingham based artists, Aly Stoneman and Milk and a selection of other artists from the floor. After an impromptu rendition of Happy Birthday, sung to Elizabeth Bishop, who’s birthday was also that day, the party broke up and Mr Hegley was off again to facilitate an open workshop, with as many people as he could fit in the room.

The evening saw ‘The Edge’: a showcase of young people reflecting on contemporary issues. The compelling night of live performance featured ensemble performances, an evocative score (composed by Dave Dhonau) and haunting lyrics sung by Morgan York, a talented 15 year old. Directed, produced by, and featuring Mombowie Starchild with support from Rob Gee. The green lit auditorium was packed out and resonant.

The last day at the Lounge brought together many of its highlights. One to ones with Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze and The Book Doctor, drawing sessions with Tim Clarke and in its final hours the same quiet concentration and animated discussion amongst Loungers, as had been seen all week.

The Lyrical Lunchtime featured the powerful trio ‘Accortumn’ alongside entrants into the Lounge’s in house poetry art competition. After much deliberation, judges picked out two joint winners, Kim Chauhan for her footballing spice bottles and the immaculately performing, Alison.

Both day and festival ended in a gold filled auditorium, reverberating to much hyped ‘John Hegley Music Hall Cabaret.’ As with the whole week, it did not disappoint. One by one, four older men of diverse background were introduced to perform, by Hegley himself.

Oscar Frank, Stuart Snowdon, Bob Bennett and Rob Miller presented work of an incredibly high standard. From Oscar’s light hearted and formally flawless rebuke of Thomas Hardy, to Stuart’s heart-warming and ironic ‘I’m a one Woman Man’ the group shone.

In the second half, Hegley stepped up to deliver an astonishing show. He was at times accompanied by a whole host of musical talent which included: Leicester based band ‘GEM’, Hafsah T Ali (a locally based, young flautist), his own long time associate, Keith Moore on double bass and of course, himself on mandolin. He moved from pathos to laughter and had the crowd translating French, tapping specs and singing along. He and his cast were immaculate and by the end of night the sold out theatre was in love - with Hegley, with the Lounge and with all things lyrical.

Contact

Contact.

Writing East Midlands
49 Stoney Street
The Lace Market
Nottingham
NG1 1LX
T. 01159 59 79 29
W. www.writingeastmidlands.co.uk

Credits

Credits.

The Lyric Lounge (Phase 1) was managed by 2Funky Arts, with creative programming from WORD! and guidance from a steering committee (led by Writing East Midlands and featuring Leicester City Libraries, The Literature Network, The Y Theatre, Apples and Snakes and Mainstream Partnership). It is part of MLA and Renaissance East Midlands’ contribution to the region-wide ‘Igniting Ambition’ programme and is being undertaken in partnership with Arts Council East Midlands. Additional funding was sourced from Leicestershire Partnership NHS Trust, Leicester City Council and Connexions Leicester Shire.

Jean 'Binta' Breeze /
Lyric Lounge Patron

Alison Dunne /
(Leicester Libraries) Book Doctor

Rickin Billimoria & Vijay Mistry
(2 Funky Arts) / Project Managers

Rebecca Wooster (2 Funky Arts) /
Marketing & Press

Lydia Towsey (WORD!) / Artistic Director

Keith Allott (Line Out) /
Live Visuals & Film Maker

David Dhonau /
Live stage sound & music composer

Adil Jaffer / Logo concept designer

Dokument /
Print, Web, Photography & Brand Design