Captain of the Rant
 

Captain of the Rant is a East London-based spoken word artist and perfomance poet and has been performing since May 2008, having quickly become established as an energetic, passionate and hilarious performer. Every show unleashes acidic wit, anger, hyperactivity and pointed lyricism.  He has shared stages with poetry legends such as Martin Newell, John Hegley, Kate Tempest, Steve Larkin, David J and Attila The Stockbroker, and also performed has a featured artist for Apples & Snakes, Hammer & Tongue and OneTaste. Festival appearances include Secret Garden Party 2010 and Wood Festival 2010.

In early 2010, he recorded and released an EP with the producer Hair Explosion called No Copyright Necessary. They are currently in the process of releasing the second EP, Nudges, Whispers and Threat.

As a writer, his poetry and articles have been published in a diverse array of publications, including The Erotic Review (issue 104, November 2009), stand-up comedy website Chortle, Engima magazine, anarchist newspaper Class War and webzine La Bouche (issue 3, October 2009).

He organises and co-organises many independent spoken word and music events all over London.

Here's what some publications and individuals have said about my work:

“[The No Copyright Necessary EP] is poignant and funny... it manages to stay angry but at times introspective... a complex and beautiful work” - Jo Problems, Big Wheel online fanzine

“Watching Captain of the Rant perform is like observing a blistering, runaway, out of control, giant spoken word juggernaut... blindingly brilliant brain sparking stuff that needs to be seen!” Daniel Cockrill, Bang Said The Gun

“Captain of the Rant is in your face social commentary, as well as funny and at times poignant” - Pete The Temp

“Combines a barbed wire wit with a ferocious delivery that has made him one of the most distinctive voices out there today” - Speechmotion

“"In a scene perhaps more open than most to saturation by pretension, Captain of the Rant is consistently a breath of fresh air. His poetry takes in the political without being preachy and the profoundly personal without being inaccessible. There is no unnecessary window-dressing with his poetry; just good, honest chat about shit that matters" – The Ruby Kid

“The biting social commentary unleashed by Captain of the Rant clearly came straight from the heart and was tasty food for thought” - Hannah Rodger, Fringe Report

“Freaking brilliant” - The King Blues

“When he pulled out the estate agent poem the place went nuts!” - David J

“Fantastic... one of the best new performance poets I have ever seen” - Attila The Stockbroker

"What particularly strikes you when listening to his work, along with his unshying honesty, is his ability to place personal experience in a wider social context. Brave enough to question his own thoughts and actions in a public domain he almost challenges the listener, in words accessible to all, as to their own accountability and responsibility" - Mudkiss Fanzine

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/captainoftherantpoetry
 

 Captain of the Rant vs. Hair Explosion's EP 'No Copyright Necessary', is available for free download at: http://captainoftherant.bandcamp.com,

NOTES FROM A DYING TAXPAYER

I'd always wanted to see Africa but

BANG

I was born at a starting pistol

Risk all?

No need

It's all set out crystal clear

Heed the fear

It's pure instinct

Keep busy

Keep your head down

Like rabbits building warrens

A life of tunnel vision

Listened to everything I was told

You gotta grow up

Or there's no point in getting old

I could get all that my parents never owned

The guilty sweat of them working their lives for me

And paying for uni

Seeped in my bones

I was going to prove my whole worth

Stand firm on my turf

It was the only battle worth bothering with:

It was brutal, sweaty and savage

As expected, there was friendly fire

And collateral damage:

The winner got to be average

So I paid my taxes

Kept my landlord sweet

Obeyed all the laws

Didn't disrupt

Debts paid on time

Watched what I ate

Never shagged around

Kept up with current affairs

Listened to sensible music at a reasonable volume

Never smoked

Never did drugs

A couple of beers on the weekend

And a coffee in the morning

Sorted me out just fine

In short

I played the game

And paid my dues

But now I've got the shaky feeling

That this game was rigged to lose

I convinced myself

That all this was deserved

But now

It all seems absurd

Because all my mates have the same TVs

Same cars

Same houses

Same stories as me

Such a loss

Because despite all those promotions

I always had a boss

And what was the cost?

A buzzing static motion

Like a wasp trapped in a congealing tar ocean

And everyone told me it was kosher

The status quo

But I was always undercover

Pretending I was someone I didn't know

Every day at work there was

A comfortable suppressed sadness

As familiar conversations evaporated over and over

What'd you do this weekend?

How're the kids?

Are you coming to Tracy's leaving do?

Who's got my fucking Tippex?

Chats that smacked the imagination

Into a bloodied unconsciousness

So many words but so little said

Nothing to distract from the

Tax bills

Mortgages

Payslips

That elbowed for space in my head

Every four years I cast that invisible vote

It was a floating vote

It floated into nothing

It disappeared into the wind

Like so many lost years

While wars ripped my telly to shreds on a nightly basis

Hoodies weiled knives

There was a new killer flu on the horizon...

But none of it ever happened to me.

Nothing ever really changed.

So much time spent scared of nothing.

I didn't know waste had a taste until now.

And every brick of this hospital has that discoloured tinge

I cringe at the smell of the rot

That creeped in

Seeped in

And rose so high

Became so normal

That no one ever peeped in to check if I was drowning

My memories are like holiday snaps

Wrapped in laminate

My skin's the only thing that's real.

I touch my chest:

My diminuendo heartbeat

Spent so long trying to find my feet

And didn't even find them.

I can nearly see Africa from here.

It's all nearly over.

It was nice.

I remember my English teacher telling me

That nice was a meaningless word.

Perfect, then.

Just please don't remember me

For the things I never did.

BATTLECRY OF THE SEXES

I’m leafing through the gardening magazine

After gardening magazine

In the waiting room

Until my eyes lock and zoom

On the one thing I’ve been looking for...

Casually my greasy paw slides over

Making sure no one’s watching

I make the snatch, good and clean

And casually I put on my lap

A women’s magazine

Waiting rooms are the only chance I get

And I admit

It’s an addiction

I need my hit

Flicking through problem pages, fascinated

And at the same time thinking:

“Do women actually read this shit?”

Then watching Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp

Swim dimly into my memory

And feel a twinge of jealousy

As I rub a guilty hand over my beer belly

Knowing that it cost more than going to the gym

Then I understand how detachment from your own body

And fantasy about an imagined ideal

Is necessary in order to feel

Something close to happiness

In a world where we’re made to feel dissatisifed

Because we’re not beautiful

But fuck that

It’s time to take a time out

So guys hide behind

FHM’s brazen brawn and lies

Allies in a protest against progress

Because it’ll mean they’ll have to rely

On their personalities for a change

And girls hide behind

An obsession over not eating too many pies

But I love a woman who loves her food with a passion

And devours life too because she knows it’s on ration

Because she’ll make me see that we’re all able

To refuse what’s been put on the table

A war’s been started

Masquerading as a game

Priorities getting warped

As we’re taught that the opposite sex

Is an animal to be caught

And tamed

Our emotions are reigned in

And smothered by the din

Of their disguised battle cry

And here’s mine:

Dear Deadrie,

Why don’t you just fuck off and die?

Because I’m fucking bored of the goss

Smothered in gloss

And all the made up stories about people shagging their boss

It’s cost us a massive loss

And the uncrossable chasm you’ve help manufacture

Has left us as fractured in this age

As Adam’s ribcage

We’re left alone, groping in the dark

For the tissue and the remote

As the vinegar stroke smote

The smoke that those sprawled, moaning actors

Caused in our loins

As we try kind of sex

That might make us connected and joined

RIP Ballard

You warned us where we were headed

Because we’ve been divided

And sold

And told it’s our fault

From a vault of holy books and

Being scared into how to look

So let’s crank up Bikini Kill

Set light to that magazine subscription bill

And take those pages

Of the self-appointed sages

And build a huge fucking bonfire

A funeral pyre on the high street

Where we can dance and drink and fuck to an equal beat

JUST TEXTED

Fuck, I just texted

And now I’m next to vexed

I used my most concise wording

Cramming and ramming all the info in

So I didn’t have to pay for that second page

And I reckon it was pretty good

I’ve definitely written worse

But I gotta sinking feeling I might as well have sent it in a hearse

My fingers skipped hesitantly over the keys

But I pretended to myself I’m doing it with ease

I gave it a quick review to see if there was anything to mend

And then I picked her number and whacked send

Will she notice the ‘x’ at the end?

She could construe it as a kiss

It was such a risk, why didn’t I think?

Jesus I hope she doesn’t make the link

Christ, calm down Paul, it’s not that bad

It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a reflex of a hand

And on reflection it could move it into the sublime

Anyway I use it with my female mates all the time

Oh, great, now I’m sweating

Betting that I fucked everything up

I hear the beep of my phone on the kitchen table

And at first I’m barely able to move my hand

Then it shoots over, unlocks and presses ‘read’

And it’s a message from Mum asking what I had for my fucking tea

I feel like texting back: ‘Rejection on toast’

But I leave it and wait for my special digital post

What the fuck happened?

When did it come to this?

Our perspectives bent all out of proportion

Forcing us to take nervy caution contacting people we fancy

Getting antsy about whether we seem too needy or keen

It’s obscene:

Because technology is taking over our lives

And arrived so subtly we didn’t even notice the rift

As we all started to drift apart with too much ease

As companies make us think we need more stuff

More phones, more profiles

More time shut up in our rooms

Sitting underneath our band posters

Pretending it’s all drawing us closer

While we boast a chance to reform our personalities

Instead of ringing and meeting and talking

To those friends who you now haven’t got the time to see

You’re now a few clicks away from near anonymity

As if increased CCTV wasn’t near enough

Making us fear all the people we thought we could trust

Now we’re making our own cells

Giving the State a hand

Sinking in electronic quicksand

And the democratisation of media is great thing

Unifying people for the constant fight

Giving information to people who otherwise wouldn’t see the light

Giving our community more muscle, strong and tight

Just don’t let bulletins replace marches

Don’t let profiles replace personality

Don’t let texts replace conversation

Don’t let porn replace meeting someone you genuinely love

Don’t let them bury us up to your necks

And shit…

I’m still waiting for that text…