Review

Mark Grist at The Vaults Devizes Festival

Review published in Wiltshire Gazette and Herald today (unedited version)

Devizes Festival has embraced poetry this year. We’ve had John Hegley, Arthur Smith, Professor Elemental and the Poetry Slam and last Monday at The Vaults, Mark Grist; Rogue Teacher, spoken word artist and battle rapper. Over a pie before the show Mark was happy to chat about poetic rivalry and revenge, Peterborough and whether poetry should be more art than therapy. He is a cheerful, accessible, energetic man with a twinkle in his eye and a plan to pay off his mortgage with his craft.

His act is comprised of anecdote, flowing prose, blank verse and rhyme. His work is insightful, angry, touching and respectful in turns. His story weaves through his set; he has been the Poet Laureate of Peterborough and has gone by the name of the Count of Monty Gristo; he taught difficult children who liked to set fire to things and were easily distracted by seagulls; he inspired his pupils and was in turn inspired; he took up a challenge from one of the kids to enter a rap battle and creamed a lad called Blizzard with Mum jokes, the video of which went viral, and he has skirmished with and worked with people with names like Omen and Mixy.

He engages his enthusiastic audience with tales of visiting dead poets’ graves, of nutmegging in Keynsham in his teenage years, and of the day when one of his pupils shot another in the head. He chooses Maisie from the audience to serenade with his deliberately bad poem about “gingers”, for bad poetry is in itself an art and some words just don’t have a rhyme. He answers a request for “Girls That Read”, his homage to women of intelligence, another internet sensation. He berates the habit that some poets have of deriding and criticising each other’s work and recites a tale of tomatoes thrown at a competition where the last poet standing bashes his own brains out with a tin. He wants us to “cheer on the Keiths” for every poem has a place.

The Vaults was the perfect venue for this Fringe event, which attracted a younger, well informed audience, who loved Mark and his exciting work. Who says that poetry is a niche interest? Not Devizes Festival. We’ve brought it out of the closet. We rock.

by Gail

The Ruts DC and 2 Sick Monkeys do Devizes Festival

Review published in Wiltshire Gazette and Herald Thursday 18th June (unedited)

Those of us who ventured out in Devizes on a school night to The Corn Exchange couldn’t quite believe our luck. The evening kicked off with the heavy sound of 2 Sick Monkeys, Wiltshire punk royalty. Pete “We just want to make people happy” and Fred Monkey, a man of few words, from Swindon, are an in your face two piece who steamed through their set with No Brakes and cheerfully instructed us to leave the building in no uncertain terms.

Then on came The Ruts DC, in their second incarnation since 1977, when they burst on to the scene as The Ruts, on the front line of punk and protest, rocking against racism and railing against injustice with their unique combination of roots, punk, reggae and ska. The book of the band is titled Love In Vain, after the hypnotic lament released only months before the death of the charismatic Malcolm Owen to heroin in 1980. Many bridges are under water since those days, and one might have expected world weary cynicism from a band so haunted by loss, but we were to realise swiftly that The Ruts DC have spent the years evolving their magnificent sound to the point of perfection.

Segs Jennings played mesmeric bass and sang with poignant tone, Leigh Heggarty surprised with intelligent riffs and the genial Dave Ruffy on drums co-ordinated the trio with a twitch of an eyelash. They’d got us with SUS, we were Staring At The Rude Boys and reminded that there is always a Jah War somewhere. We were no longer In A Rut and our Babylons burned with exhilaration and joy. We marvelled at the glory of this band and wondered where the years had gone, we remembered songs we had forgotten we loved, we danced and shouted and generally rejoiced. One bloke was heard to say that to his shame he had been just too out of it to see them years ago but is beyond excited to see them now.

The Ruts DC are still fresh, polished and relevant. They still rehearse diligently, and it showed. They kept up the quality and pace for ninety minutes, leaving us delighted and wanting to follow them on the rest of their musical journey. On the way out after the gig a band member whispered “Thanks for keeping the faith.” On behalf of those of us who were there, the pleasure was all ours.

by Gail

Arthur Smith at The Corn Exchange

Here is my review for the Wiltshire Gazette And Herald http://www.gazetteandherald.co.uk published online today

Arthur Smith at The Corn Exchange on Saturday 6th June

Arthur likes Devizes. He takes time before his gig to wander round the streets with a fag to get a feel of the place. He’d like to tarry a while but has to rush off afterwards to catch a train. He has done his homework, much to the approval of his old physics teacher, Terry Hall, who has bought a ticket to see how the old boy turned out. He is world renowned and prolific, with regular appearances on television and Radio 4, yet there are no airs to this man and he is frankly not Grumpy at all.

Arthur has read the Gazette and is party to the sorry tale of the scamming fish salesmen in the villages. He places Devizes firmly between Melksham and Marlborough in the socioeconomic hierarchy of Wiltshire, remarking that, in comparison to Balham, our kebab shop reminds him of Downton Abbey. He refers to the quirks and foibles of other parts of Britain and likes a nice regional variation. He jokes about the Festival, aware that we have Bran the Blessed booked and that our Chairman is not to be messed with. He plays with the audience, getting us to bleat like sheep. The lovely “Carrie from Melksham” has a sheep cry to die for and she gets to read out the comments from the audience about what makes us grumpy: Cyclists without bells saying “Excuse me” on the towpath, litter on the Green, having to stay sober to take Arthur to the station and other inconveniences.

He sings, recites his own poetry and that of others, cracks off one liners and rambles through longer tales. He shows how Ladysmith Black Mambaza wrote a song about him and does Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah like Lee Marvin; reminisces fondly about his childhood, telling a tale of a shower of shorts and giggling girls; touches on controversy, proposing a society for the promulgation of assisted suicide for those deemed by the grumpy to be suitable candidates, yet never goes too far; upsets Yorkshiremen, but only slightly; he judges his audience wisely and pulls himself up for swearing; he makes us laugh, a lot.

Arthur Smith is a bit of a paradox. He reads John Dryden’s “Happy The Man” and finishes off with “Simon (Arthur) Smith and his Dancing Bear”. His act is laid-back and laissez faire, delivered deliberately as if he were middle-aged, disillusioned, tired and past his prime, yet through his material shines hope, joy and empathy for the human condition. Devizes loves him and it appears that, as he is observed cheerfully posing for photographs with Terry Hall and the event sponsors from The Kennet and Avon Brewery before departing for the train, he shares the love.

Gail Foster