Please contact us at

email to:-

performers@rrrants.co.uk

For more information

info@rrrants.co.uk 

 rrrants towers, 10 twitchell lane, aston clinton, bucks. HP22 5JJ.

Reviews - Independent, objective reviews on Performances & Publications

Rantanory: Little Stories

Rrrants Collective, 2012

Reviewed by  Laurence raw

www.radiodramareviews.com

Rantanory Tales at the Rrrants Shop

HUNTING THE GREAT WHITE PRAWN

By Ledger De La Bald

ISBN 978-1-906349-158

Review by Donna Daniels Moss

First off, a confession. I originally read this book last year with the view to review and then, with over 150 gigs and 17 festivals to deal with that review never did materialise. However I verbally review it to friends and family members and the book was lent out many times.

So finding myself with that rare luxury, time, due to the Christmas break business that we have periodically, I was determined to finally put polished nails to keys. I initially re visited De La Bald’s book merely to ensure spellings of people and places were as I recalled because there was never any doubt that the actual tale would ever slip from my memory! However as I flipped through, noting what I needed, I found myself reading the odd sentence, then the odd paragraph and then the odd page and eventually could stand no more. This was a story to re visit and enjoy again properly. I had forgotten the sheer joy of De La Bald's tale from the descriptions of Holes Bay and surroundings and it’s fabulous residents to the sometimes near hysterical scenarios that had previously left me helpless with laughter at first reading. So, even though I was enjoying my current read (Fyodor could wait) it was put aside allowing me to once again drift back into this marvellous tale.

As I wandered back through, I remembered being somewhat daunted at the prospect of reviewing a book that told the story of a prawning village but having never once been disappointed whenever I had been fortunate enough to see Mr De La Bald perform on stage, I felt sure that there must be a little something for me within those shiny covers. This turned out to be the understatement of the year!

You may be forgiven for believing that this will be a nice gentle read during those first few pages, as De La Bald sets the scene, however, it is not long before you are introduced to the characters that will ensure you will stay gripped throughout. We start with the visitor, bent only on digging out a few interesting traditions and comments from locals that might interest the world at large. From there, the delicious madness begins. Grandmothers, who decree at a childs birth to whom they will be married, only hesitating briefly to check in ‘The Big Family Book’ less family ties are a little too close for comfort. Master Miles, master of the prawning vessel ‘Prudence’, with his more than dubious tactics. The Rev Michael Grape, hell bent on closing down ‘Paradise’ the local drinking den, house of almost comic ill repute and home to the vessel capable of holding half a gallon of cider, the ‘God Forgive me’. Sweaty Betty, as she strips to her waist to create the hugely popular local fishcakes in what I truly hope is a purely fabricated method (for the love of all things holy let this be the case!) And then, there is Boathook Bald! Good old Boathook, there are in fact literally no words that can do this character justice so I can only recommend putting another log on the fire, drawing yourself a nice cool cider and introducing yourself to the man as soon as possible. I guarantee you’ll be pleased you did!

Donna Daniels Moss

'SEX & DRUGS & ROTTEN JOKES'

by Philfy Phil

CD

self published August 2011 and available exclusively from The RRRANTS shop priced £5 (+£1 p+p)

This second album from pantwettingly sharp satirical parodist and comedy songwriter Philfy Phil had this reviewer hankering for a return to the golden age of pop music, where humourous songs nestled proudly amongst records by the pop and rock stars of the day on mainstream radio playlists and Top Of The Pops alike. If those times hadn't been cruelly snatched from us in the late 1980s when popular music began to take itself too seriously and ultimately disappeared up its own arsehole, then at least three of the tracks from Phil's latest CD would be fighting for chart placings with the likes of Peter Sellers, Weird Al Jankovich and Bernard Cribbens. Personally, I blame hypocritical tax dodging whinger Bono. Lighten up for fuck sake! Get your boys back into the studio and record a couple of THESE tracks. 'Left Her Behind' and '$100' or 'Am I Invisible?' would be my choices, though any of the other nine new tracks on display here for the first time would do just as well, and would no doubt herald the pop culture revival of this too long overlooked artform and may even make U2 actually worth forking out for.

Sex & Drugs & Rotten Jokes' is a masterclass in musical comedy composition, deftly written and performed by Phil himself, with added instrumentation from producer Artwist helping to give this collection a much fuller, rockier sound than his last. **** reviewed by F I Kate

'WEIRD SCENES'

by The Game Cat

CD

self published July 2011 and available from The RRRANTS shop priced £5 (+£1 p+p)

We've waited a long time for this collection from the artist previously known as Ant Smith. It doesn't disappoint. Ant is the poetic equivalent to Marmite or rectal examinations. You either love them or you hate them. There's no sitting on the fence; especially after the latter! I've never known an audience to be so radically divided by a single performer. What it comes down to, I think, is that you either get his work or you don't. Is he offensive? Well, that depends on whether or not you are able to look past the scary sweary stalkerman image that he projects and listen to his cleverly constructed satirical responses to the hypocracies and the ludicrosities of the modern world or not. If you can't, and listening to someone declaring their undieing love for a corpse is the sort of thing that causes your dinner to pay you an unwelcomed revisit, then this collection is probably not for you, but if that's the case then you are sadly missing a treat. Buckle in, baby; life aint always pretty. Someone has to strip away the platitudes and tell it like it is and right now our lyrical messiah is Ant Smith, here doing what evolution gave him the lungs and mouth to do it with.

My only criticism of this release is that I personally think that the exquisite 'Definition' should have been the opening gambit, closely followed by his mantra 'Plaything' with the two live tracks bringing up the rear. But what do I know? I'm one of the people who LIKE 'Mortician'.**** reviewed by F I Kate

'YOUR SAX IS ON FIRE'

by George Stanworth

paperback book

published by Matador October 2011

available from The RRRANTS shop priced £5.99 (+£1+p+p)

I have marvelled at many a poet with the ability to stand up on a stage and recite Beowolf style epics without a crib to be seen; all impassioned gurns and flailing Shakespearean melodrama as they throw everything they've got at their heartfelt art. I've been awed by this and then sat down to read their collected works and... dropped into a coma.

George Stanworth doesn't do epic. George does something that many of today's 'it's-all-in-the-delivery' stage whores naievely rebuff. 

George does short sharp and surreal humour that works as well on the page as it does on the stage.

From the sublime

'Speed Dating'; four lines (one of which is empty), and six carefuly chosen words, to 'Frustration'; a tale of unqequited love for a celestial body, with as many pauses as it has words, this; his second book of sideways glances, puns, quips and thinly veiled contempt for public figures is the perfect top-of-the-cistern poetic portal for the attention deficit generation that proves the timeworn adage: bigger is not neccessarily better.**** reviewed by F I Kate (and Eric Dazzle!)

The Full review can be found here

Iszi Lawrence, compare... with Steve Best, The Antipoet, Joe Bell & Montserrat Carbonarra.

....A variety night with variety, but producing a coherent whole, promoter Emma Purshouse has set herself quite a standard with this annual series of events. 17-09-11, Gary Longden

Review of Rrrants Bardaid Festival 2011 by Christine Adams

BardAid 2011

The Rrrants collective is possibly the least cynical organization that I've ever encountered. Motivated by the DIY spirit, they have created an environment where performers can freely express themselves in any (legal) way that they choose. Even mere punters are warmly welcomed and quickly integrated. At a Rrrants event, everyone knows your name.

The BardAid Festival 2011 was a truly boutique festival set in a cosy function room above The Camden Eye pub. Despite the size of the room, I'd estimate that at least 500 poetry lovers passed through the doors over the three days. Not too shabby at all especially as the money raised for BardAid goes towards providing sweary poetry books for the people who need them most – the children.

The weekend was ably and tirelessly MC'd by the charismatic Paul Eccentric, one half of The Anti-poet. Along with his partner in crime, Ian aka Bass Whore on, ahem, the double bass; they teased the audience with brief sets of hilarious 'musetry' throughout the weekend. The Anti-poet are kings of the persistent earworm and I'd bet that everyone who saw them was chanting that mantra of frustrated middle-aged men - ‘tights not stockings’ – for days afterwards.

Friday 22 July

Day 1 kicked off with live music and such was the variety there really was something for everyone.  Philfy Phil set a high benchmark, no mean feat considering one of his parodies was about the perils of having sex during a bout of diarrhoea. Thaddeus & The Firing Squad exude ruddy-cheeked charm and measured enthusiasm, a bit like Jedward with A-levels and Ritalin. They definitely know what they are doing musically and I’m curious to see how they will evolve as their world-view widens. Tinlin are also likeable chaps and gave the audience chance to pause with their simple, acoustic melodies. In contrast, Dan ‘Black Sparrow’ Hunt was energetic and confident. He wears his heart on his sleeve in terms of musical influences but his brilliant bittersweet lyrics show him to be a true wordsmith. The Rude Mechanicals were right up my street, a combination of musical spikiness and high camp melodrama. They know how to entertain, as do Andy and the Prostitutes with their folky/punk sound and catchy choruses. I defy anyone not to join in with ‘Uncle Walt’s a paedophile’. They have a great line in audience banter and, from a purely personal point of view, I believe that any band can be improved with a banjo. Well, apart from U2… and Mumford and Sons.

Saturday 23^rd July – Diva Day

Diva Day starts with a bang in the form of Victoria Laxton-Bass. Definitely one to watch, she is proving to be a compelling performer in that she has something worth saying plus an innate understanding of what it is to be a poet. I should also mention that along with Emma Chesterton and Donna Daniels-Moss, Victoria is the backbone of Rrrants and, when she isn’t performing, she can be found doing the unsexy but necessary tasks behind the scenes.

From great poetry to great music with a series of singers and acoustic guitarists. Miss Jo Williams hit the ground running with her distinctive vocals and accomplished guitar playing, openly acknowledging her influences while ploughing her own musical furrow. Betty Steele like Miss Jo W, is much more than simply a girl with a guitar and was utterly beguiling. The sad news of Amy Winehouse’s death broke just before her performance so she closed her set with a sensitive tribute. Something that I quickly realized on this day was how diverse the performers are and how satisfying this is for hungry ears. Sola definitely contributed to this with her beautiful rendition of a traditional Croatian song, successfully communicating the emotions therein to the largely English speaking audience. According to her website, Lánre, hasn’t been playing guitar for long but I’d never have guessed, as her delicate picking perfectly complemented her rich and husky vocal. In many ways, the BardAid Festival was like a magnificent buffet with numerous flavours for the audience to taste. However, with many of the performers I wanted a full meal. Mary Spender being the perfect example, I thoroughly enjoyed her frustratingly short set in which she deftly combined acoustic instruments with current sampling technology to great effect.

Back to poetry with Mel Jones, one of the most engaging performers on the poetry circuit at the moment. Her love of language shines through, she is the undisputed 'queen of filth' and her poetry reflects a joie de vivre that is infectious and liberating.

Despite the success of Flight of the Conchords and the Mighty Boosh, musical comedy still doesn’t get the acclaim it deserves. This is a shame especially after seeing two of the best practitioners of this art. Jammie Sammy, dressed to impress and armed with a guitar, she lured us into her dark world of imprisoned lovers and incontinence before securing our complicity with the anthemic ‘Weirdos’. Maintaining the theme of bodily functions, Helen Arney and her ukelele managed to simultaneously delight and horrify the audience with her song in praise of mooncups (if you don’t know what a mooncup is, try Google)

I remember seeing Joolz Denby in Smash Hits in the early eighties when she was the poster girl for punk poetry. She no longer has vivid red hair but is still a commanding figure nonetheless. While her poetry has a slightly dated feel about it, there was no questioning her self-belief and she had a great line in pre-amble too. Back to music with the great and very lovely Helen McCookerybook, whose gentle demeanour and sweet voice belied her ascerbic lyrics. (She is also a pretty decent cartoonist too.) The day ended with another musical hero for me, the wonderful Viv Albertine, formerly of The Slits. She didn’t chat much but got down to work with a set of great sounding, very funny songs in which she looks askance at the world around her. Special mention should go to ‘Creepy Couples’, which made me think of those other experts in cutting through the sheer bollocks of modern living - Half Man Half Biscuit. Oh, and she also used ‘mouth sounds’ to fantastic effect too. I’m not going to expand on that – you should have been there!

Sunday 24th July – Rrrantanory

The Rrrantanory storytelling session was a great idea and a welcome indulgence on a Sunday afternoon. Regretfully, I arrived late and missed Alice Heavyside and Paul Eccentric but given what I did see, I'm sure they were first rate.

I'm glad that I saw Kat Quatermass whose modern revision of a

Russian folk tale had the audience both gripped and giggling. Gabriella Apicella delivered a refreshing and genuinely fascinating account of a woman going through an abortion. The brilliance of this writing was that she never once drifted into navel-gazing mawkishness and managed to deliver a thought-provoking piece without being judgmental. Ant Smith, better known for his poetry, delivered two short pieces, the first a fictional and devilishly funny exposure of the hypocrisy surrounding bereavement, followed by a true but understated account of being held at gunpoint during a siege in Mumbai.

The final performer was the hilarious Karen Hayley, Not just a great storyteller but a master of voices, using clipped, received pronunciation in her tale of lust for inanimate objects followed by her love story told from the point of view of a hardboiled LA 'dame'/clown(!) which also included Spike Jones-esque sound effects.

The final session…

All too soon, the festival came to a close with a densely packed evening of poetry which effectively showcased Rrrants top talent.

Danni Antagonist, stalwart of the Milton Keynes poetry scene and co-founder of Poetry Kapow got everyone in the mood with typical aplomb. Poeterry, the ambassador of love and rudey sex shenanigans, just gets better and better and seems truly at home on a stage. Ian Fremantle, showed great skill in using clever rhymes to deliver some powerful rhetoric on the homogenization of culture and the current fashion of demonizing the poor and dispossessed. The formidable, yet tender, Anna Le has mastered the art of narrative in poetry as not a word is wasted and she has a sharp ear for the rhythm and musicality of language. This is perfectly demonstrated in 'Lego Limbs’, which explores the all too common paradox of enjoying an intimate relationship while simultaneously desiring independence. ScrubberJack brilliantly reflected life on a modern council estate in a way that wasn’t patronizing or romantic but transformed the language of that world to create authentic, valid artistic expression.

Ant Smith's alter ego The Game Cat is a strange looking beast. With his wild eyes, badger beard and coat of many colours, he looks for all the world like a mad scientist cum perverse serial killer. On the surface, his dark poetry would confirm this view but a little scratching beneath reveals a passionate and tortured soul wrestling with deep- rooted fears about mortality and loss.

The man in the velvet mask Alain English kicked off with his profoundly moving signature piece 'Snakes in my ears, blisters on my brain'. He then moved into new territory with a sequence of poems discussing sexual mores. As with everything Alain does, these demonstrated his excellence as a writer and also revealed his playful side but, personally speaking, he is at his strongest when discussing themes and ideas that are truly unique to him.

The Anti-poet returned with a welcome longer set of crowd pleasers embodying the philosophy of the weekend in that they offered something for everyone, from the pomposity-busting ‘Artists’ to the painfully honest ‘I hope it isn’t anyone we know’. One of their newer numbers is ‘Random words in a random order’ which is aimed at poets who don’t know how to self-edit, or, indeed, clearly express themselves. No such accusation could be levelled at Tim Wells whose neat, short pieces effectively convey deep truths and describe the pleasure and fascination of living in multi-cultural London in 2011. Finally, Gerry Potter, rounded off the weekend with a set of rich material, which included a scathing attack on Simon Cowell and TV talent shows that cruelly seduce then exploit the deluded and the vulnerable.

All in all, BardAid 2011 was a great success and demonstrated that we live in a fantastic, creatively dense world, something that fills me with great optimism. Here’s to 2012!

Review of Quaking in my Stack Heels

By Ray Fox and By George Stanworth

Review of ‘Quaking In Me Stackheels’ by Paul Eccentric

Woop! I've just finished (reading) 'Quakin' In Me Stackheels' and feel I may never quake again! What a splendid book! I shall certainly revisit it again and again but have already picked up some really useful tips. I actually employed some of the techniques this morning when I had to give a 15 minute presentation in a training session at work. I was well prepared and for once I didn't experience the laboured breathing and bass drum heart beating out of my chest that I would normally get in those situations, so thank you for that. It felt amazing to be so calm. 

Review by Ray Fox, MyWordRadio

What Paul Eccentric doesn’t know about performing you could probably jot down on a bumble bee’s bandage. This is just as well considering he’s just written a book on the subject – the wonderfully titled ‘Quaking in Me Stackheels’ 

The book is primarily aimed at beginners, but more experienced performers can also benefit from the advice provided. From preparation to performance this book is neatly structured into a number of helpful sections that assist in areas such as rehearsal, styling, mic control, and handling an audience. The witty anecdotes and engaging style of Paul’s writing makes this book both informative and entertaining.

If you want to know how to become rich and famous then this is probably not the book for you. Paul rightly points out:- “…if you set out with that as your ultimate goal then you are most certainly doomed to eternal disappointment.” More importantly, Paul highlights the importance of perfecting the basics first, and having a good time while doing so. You sense the latter as he says he is “bloody well enjoying the ride.”

Review by George Stanworth

Review of

Oliver Gozzard's

The Commuter;s Tale

                      
by Robbyn Snow  

Now, I don't claim to know anything about poetry; I'm not that widely read in literature and the like so my initial thoughts when cracking the spine of this book, was that of complete ambivalence, with a hint of blank expression...

...but that of course, was before I actually started reading it.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a majority of the poems that I come across however; there was something about this one. As cliché as it might sound: it is different (and I’m not just talking about the fact that it has a few more pages than what I am accustomed to). It is old but somehow modern, humorous yet even pulls out emotion in all the right places.

Rather aptly, sitting down to reflect on the book, I find myself sat on a train, the 10:04 to Euston, and instead of the usual mundane time warp into the city, since having read Gozzard's tale of two travellers, I actually find myself looking around at the usual avoidably grey strangers, boarding the carriage, willing them to actually strike up a conversation.  Not just that but looking to see what my new train buddies really look like; what they might do or have been doing, and wondering whether strangers want to talk to each other but just...don’t.

Because that essentially, this is how Gozzard draws you in. He makes you consider your relationships with the unfamiliar people you pass every day, and think about what it would be like if one walked into your life (or onto your train), throwing out the stereotypical commuter shyness (*cough cough* rudeness) and took you away from everything.

After Cam (Mr 06:56) and B-ZEE (Rapper Extraordinaire) meet, Gozzard’s first person style allows you to join them on their haphazard voyage, a random sequence of events, that tie up...in the end.

The whole read seems like it should, at any moment, take a Dallas-style turn and all end up as having just been a dream (or at least, that is my theory) but it doesn’t.

I wouldn't want to spoil the ending for you so I will just say, “Read this book”. It will inflame any hidden craving you may have to break away from your norm and might just make you look at the unknown figure in front of you and say:

"Good Morning, I believe the sun will soon be out".

So Paul I write to thank u and praise u and generally say

That we laughed and shouted and sang home and away.

The acts came on but it was plain to see they weren't really acts but people like me

Liz laughed so hard it was beautiful to see, cheering and jeering ....with empathy

For the girl who is gay and the way you display .....she thought you

were one who took it up the bum, but no and her surprise I could see

We laughed on the way and I thought she would cry, for the pain she

inflicted on the woman she loved, for the straightness she craved when she looked in my eyes

And the dumping and begging and the moving on now.......

Its strange to behold how your words moved our souls,

how we questioned and thought and let our hearts fly

To the place of safety, that place in the sky, where the spirit communes and blesses us high.....

if its all predained then why do we cry.

The bitches and bastards who twisted us dry and left us to wallow and keep asking WHY

But now we are cured and we soar in the sky, we know the secret, we pass it on by

So Paul, my dear fellow you all touch our hearts, with word and music, rhythm and dance

I'm not beat, I'm not hip, I dress in a suit, but my friend de la Bere

told me you're good, so I came from the office as quick as I could

We dined in the Snug then over the road, OVO beckoned so we knew you'd be good

So thanks dear poets, bard and musicians, drop-outs and bums, you're all mind physicians.

.....And terribly GOOD :)

The above spontaneously and inspirationally written while laying in

the bath at the Holiday Inn, Manchester Media City.

Liz and I saw you last night at OVO, back to hers to sleep then up at dawn to fly here.

Thank you Paul and all.

Pete the JMP.     (Pronounced jimp)

(Junior Management Potential)  

Review of Rrrants in association with Poetry Link presents -

Pete The Temp by Peter Woods

Rrrants in conjunction with Poetry Link

Review by Ray Fox of,

Poetry Link Showcase at The Ovo Theatre,

Tuesday 1^st March 2011

Featuring Pete The Temp, Richard Frost, Ian Freemantle and The Antipoet plus special guest Vikki Laxton-Bass

          My second visit to the small but perfectly formed Ovo Theatre was an absolute delight from start to finish. Having had many enjoyable nights at Rrrants events before, I was keen to introduce more of my friends to the experience. This lovely little theatre has an honest, cottage-industry feel to it; from the intimate auditorium to it’s ‘living room’ style bar upstairs and with members of the staff and production team popping up here and there to fulfil various roles (a bit like a Carry On film)…you get that warm cosy feeling from the minute you enter.

 As host Paul Eccentric conveyed in his introduction, we would be getting a little more for our money (already being spoilt rotten for the very reasonable £4 entry fee). As a late addition to the bill, first up was Rrrants’ very own roadie and regular supporter, Vikki Laxton-Bass. Vikki is a relative newcomer to performing, having discovered her talent for poetry only recently. This was only her sixth public performance but you wouldn’t believe it as she delivered three original, quick-fire poems straight from the heart. With confidence and humour, and just a hint of vulnerability, she opened herself up to the audience through pieces dealing with such subjects as sexuality, unrequited love and family values. With her down-to-earth style, Vikki invited us into her life as she bobbed along to her own rhythmical delivery, giving an admirably assertive performance in daunting surroundings. A huge round of applause confirmed that Vikki is a budding talent. Definitely one to watch in the coming months and years.

 Next up was the seemingly peace-loving, self-confessed anarchist Ian Freemantle who, we’re reliably informed, has recently gained the title of ‘The Bard of Stony Stratford’. Well-deserved but reluctantly accepted I’m sure. You don’t have to agree with or even understand the politics in Ian’s material (personally I love it!) to appreciate his passion for common sense over government spin and corporate nonsense. He’s always got something important to say and it’s always something that we, the everyday people of this fair isle, can relate to. Having said that, I’m sure Ian would have no qualms performing a well-aimed set at, say, a Tory party conference; such is the courage of his convictions. Don’t be fooled into thinking that it’s all finger-pointing, rock-throwing, government-bashing seriousness however. There is a healthy dose of humour to lighten Ian’s socio-political rants, as witnessed in a cracking piece about recycling and the spread of the dreaded wheelie-bin. It raised such a buzz of support and laughter that Ian’s composure cracked and he was momentarily put off his stroke…a stroke of genius as his wry smile revealed he knew he’d hit the spot with this particular audience. The highlight of his set tonight, for me at least, was when he brought his partner Jess to the stage to perform a traditional clog dance as accompaniment to a brilliant piece about the decline of British industry through the last two centuries; others I spoke to agreed it was hypnotic, original and moving. Poetry ‘emotion’.

 Richard Frost takes to the stage. Not the Bard of Stony Stratford, but maybe barred from Stony Stratford (I’ve heard some of his more risqué pieces…) and originally from somewhere further north, judging by his accent. Having seen Richard several times before in different surroundings, I’m increasingly impressed by his versatility. His good looks and rugged Northern charm always win the audience over before he utters two words, but there is substance and wit there too. Tonight Richard offers up an animal themed segment, horses shoulder-to-shoulder with toads, via the best in beat poetry. He lays down some pretty nifty bass lines whilst his words roll out effortlessly on top throughout a light-hearted set. This is lovely stuff. It gets even lovelier when he is joined on-stage by percussionist friend Stuart, and fellow Stony Stratfordian, Ian Freemantle on melodeon. Different every time but always first-rate, he connects with his audience and knows just how to pitch his performance according to the venue. We, and The Ovo, like Richard Frost.

 Brazenly straddling the interval, The Antipoet launched into their set like the seasoned Rrranters that they are. Suited, booted (and what about those boots) and sometimes hooted by the very responsive audience, the boys pulled out some of their beat classics, along with a couple of new’uns but this time with an added gusto in keeping with the spot-lit surroundings of the Ovo. Opener (and for me their signature piece) ‘We’re Artists’ had us hooked from the outset and saw Paul Eccentric in a particularly animated mood. With their gothic stylings and punk leanings, their words spewed forth on a hot wind of passion and venom, like the very Hounds of Hades straining at their chains (they’re nice boys really). I’ve rarely seen them this fired up. The cheeky ‘Foxy Copper’ had the grinning throng clapping and ‘nee-narring’ along throughout. Like a demented band leader (what do you mean, he is one?), Paul conducted and coerced his audience to ‘keep the beat’. Pulling off the throttle just a little but with no less conviction, ‘Little Old Lady’ offered us a shock gender twist as its author announced it was actually about, or at least inspired by, a male family member. Come to think of it though, it could be about a number of people that I (and I’m sure many of us) know. Some of it certainly sounded familiar and, not wanting to pour water on their fire; it is for me rather a sad piece…..at the same time making the audience piss themselves laughing. Back on the gas now for this diuretic duo and into ‘I Like Girls’. It’s great to see the boys sparring on this one. With Ian’s bass now set on phase for the second set, together with their devilish delivery and leather-clad posturing, The Antipoet submitted an atmospheric, almost phallic performance. Beat that!

 So, to tonight’s headline act Pete (The Temp) – ‘he’s a damn fine administrator’ – who comes across like a young, crazed Griff Rhys-Jones high on Sunny Delight. Pete is a bundle of energy; lurching, flailing and marching through his incredible set. He warmed us up with some inspired call and response, then immediately had us all stomping and punching the air through his ‘mutant pedestrian’ piece, our combined voices chanting ‘I stamp my feet on the…pavement’. From that moment on we were in the palm of his hand, all inhibitions a thing of the past, and we would do whatever he asked. And that is how to enjoy Pete the Temp; get involved, go along for the ride as he sprays the front two rows with sweat and spit…his ‘holy water’. He also treated us to a couple of his winning (or losing) Anti-Slam pieces which are performed in character and are side-splittingly funny. A man of many faces and voices. His David Cameron parody, Cameron-Cam, was frighteningly realistic and at the same time truly acerbic. His political satire was nicely off-set by some hilarious musical interludes. Pete lampooned popular songs, hymns and TV themes…it’s not often you hear a grown man belting out the Bodyform advert in public. Pete is an accomplished performer and very adept at promoting himself without breaking his stride or losing his audience, in fact his self-advertising effortlessly became part of his act.
 There was one thing in particular that was still buzzing around in my head then next day…Pete’s uproarious rendition of ‘I Could Eat A Rabbit’ to the tune of the Kaiser Chiefs’ ‘I Predict A Riot’. He could’ve gotten away with just one chorus but no, he did a whole bloody song, by the end of which we were all happily singing along. Well done Pete! I predict a long, fruitful career…and I don’t mean as an administrator…
 

Review: The Antipoet – Tights Not Stockings by Jim Sutton

This one was not served to me cold – I approached with some anticipation following exposure to the live monster that is The Antipoet at a gig in the Midlands (they really are an impressive turn).

The pieces here patrol the demilitarised zone between spoken word and song, staring beadily (and occasionally baring their arses) in the direction of both, yet always highly approachable. The words are written and largely delivered by Paul Eccentric and the music provided in a funky, greasy minimal guise by multi-bassist and vocal chipper-in Ian Newman, with discreet percussion additions by recording engineer Mark Gordon. The subject matter ranges from the (surely by now, chaps, distant) recollections of school days, statement of sexual identity, the eternal battle with the tradesman of 'Blah Blah Blah' to what is clearly a big downer on religion ('The Happy Sinners', 'Holy Moses'). Eccentric never once pulls his punches, but it's all delivered with wit and a lightness of touch which leavens the frequently dark subject matter.

Personal favourites – they start with the bookish but swinging astro-existential “1420 MHz”. Then there's “Help Me, I've Been Kidnapped” in which the protagonist realises he is no longer living in the world he once knew, the tasty chordal bass part of “I Need To Know” recalling the fuzzy intensity of John Otway and Wild Willy Barrett, the possibly sugar-induced paranoia of “Zombies On The Common” and of course the red-faced and breathless sleazy paean to lechery and pervdom that is the title track.

Hear this as soon as you can. Better yet – go and see The Antipoet live for the best night out you'll have for months. Ding dong!

From a review of the Wolverhampton Midlands Poetry Slam, Mark
www.akickinthearts.co.uk
Twitter @glamourslammer

The Antipoet, recently seen at the Buxton Festival , visually combine the fetishwear of Marc Almond with the braggodocio of Adam & The Ants, yet aurally offer sharp poetry fromPaul Eccentric supported by the double bass of Ian Newman. They are  unique, funny and hugely enjoyable, as was the evening as a whole. Not your regular night out in Wolverhampton I suspect. 

Review by Paul Edwards

of Attila The Stockbroker

at The Camden Eye

on the 17th November 2010

I see that rrrants welcomes reviews of its gigs by members of the audience. Ordinarily I'd leave that to the professionals, but on this occassion I felt moved to offer my twopennyworth as a warning to others who might be tempted to buy a ticket to see the formerly fantastic and inspiring Attila The Stockbroker.

DON'T DO IT!

Remember him as he was in his glory days and not as the sad hypocritical parody of himself that he has become. I saw him twice on this his 30th anniversary tour and went from mildly disappointed at the first to embarrassed by the second.

What began as a reasonable audience at the start of The Camden Eye gig halved instantly when Attila pushed the compere aside while he was listing the evening's support acts, grabbed the mic and told the crowd that if they weren't there to see him then they should fuck off now or he'd throw them out himself.

He then promised to hit anyone who talked through his set. Normally i might have agreed with the latter comment, but the once principled and professional old man of the rant then turned his back on the stage and proceeded to talk loudly through all eight of the other acts sets! He was rude, obnoxious, threatening and bullying toward the bar staff and the rrrants crew and keen to show his utter disdain for everybody who had turned out to see him. And then he performed. I saw longtime ATS fans walking out as he slurred his way through his vaguley remembered set and sang off key to a poorly tuned instrument. He showed his antipathy toward the organisers by getting so drunk that he looked like a geriatric wino doing Attila karaeoke. Very few stayed the course and of those who did, I wonder how many will turn out to see him again?

He was still shouting at people when I left, casually destroying any good memories I had of his early career. Attila The Stockbroker? Attila The Cock.

Review of Ant Smith & Bertram Trotar's -

The Fools Of Love

 Edinburgh Fringe Preview

Rrrants Extraordinary Event

25th July 2010

The Camden Eye

Review By Beth Dawes

 Last Sunday (25th July 2010) was a hot and sultry night in trendy Camden. I use words like ‘trendy’ because I’m getting on a bit now and I experience a kind of awkward awe around vibrant young things wearing nose rings and clothes that look like they’ve been through a blender. However, in the packed, and steaming, upstairs room of the Camden Eye I felt right at home amongst a bunch of glorious eccentrics occupying various points on the chronological age spectrum, and all wholly and deliberately indifferent to the conventions of age. There were awkward young geeks giving vent to insights beyond their years, and old geezers waxing lyrical, satirical and sometimes outright profane about lurve, York and their mammies.

 
 Though the event was mainly to preview Ant Smith’s Edinburgh act, the plethora of supporting poets were wonderful - shocking, refreshing, touching and hilarious. The assortment of acts included a guy with two hats (Alan Wolfson), a former extra on Byker Grove (Tony Hickson) who held a peculiar grudge against York, a guy (Ernesto Sarzale) spouting forth on invisible lesbians and what to do when you find a belly button in your bed (delivered in what can only be described as the only appropriate state of dress for the weather), and Alvin Colvin whose mammy had something against breastfeeding. My personal highlight was Sophie Cameron. If Tracy Emin wrote poetry…well, she’d be a lot more pretentious than this straight forward Yorkshire lass. In my personal view the frank, sometimes poignant and often truculent relationship a woman has with her own undercarriage just hasn’t been eulogised enough in literature. Sophie remedies this in the only accent that can do justice to such a life-long and earthy relationship.

 But the main act was Ant Smith and his partner Bertram Trotter, doing their Edinburgh preview (The Fools of Love). I’m one of Ant’s groupies so have seen him a few times now, but for those who don’t know his particular personal style it’s rather like being savaged by a rampant, naked id. He communicates from the centre of his savage soul and it’s not pretty, but it is inexorably sincere. His ferocity never fails to blow his audience into the corners of the room like autumn leaves. Freud would have a lot to say about it. But bugger Freud.

 
 For his Edinburgh gig he has teamed up with Bertram Trotar. An unusual coupling - the latter’s style is gauche and foppish, a perfect counter-point to Ant’s style. But this coupling turns out to be perfectly suited to a fresh treatment of the theme of love. If you’re hapless in love you’ll love Bertie Trotar. If you’ve just been dumped your raging heart will find solace in Ant’s rants. And if you’re in love and sickening everyone around you then you’ll be pounced on to play the couples game, and thus given the opportunity to either ruin your relationship or inject some much needed reality into your pink cloud.
As it happens I’m going to be seeing this in Edinburgh too – 23^rd and 24^th August (Banshee Labyrinth). I’d wholly recommend it for anyone who’s around then.

You don’t have to be cool for Rrrants poetry, you just have to be ready for anything!

Review of Bard-Aid at the Poetry Cafe, 21^st July

By Danni Antagonist

....Introducing us to a night of poetry and punk rock, Paul Eccentric kicked off the evening but was very quick to usher on the first act, which established a pace and energy for the night which didn’t falter.

First up was “Captain of the Rant” who ditched the microphone for his rapid-fire dressings-down of internet social networking, Estate Agents, and women’s magazines. Similarly irrepressible was Sophie Cameron, billed as the family favourite and, a force of nature as ever with her onslaught of finely executed filth.

Never wasting a word, the charismatic Mat Lloyd’s performance is always confident but never cocky, and his pieces on bank managers and prejudice are simultaneously acerbic and heartfelt.

The seating in the Poetry Cafe does deserve a mention, as by this point I was incredibly uncomfortable on the cheap plastic chairs, which somewhat blighted the evening for me.

Snatching back my attention, Alain English launched into a phenomenal performance of the autobiographical “snakes in my ears”, edging his already dynamic and warmly impassioned style up another notch. His poems are always intricately crafted and flawlessly delivered.

Jammy Sammy’s struggles to strum a clean chord belie her incredible wit and fudge-sweet voice.  She started with her latest offering, “AA Man” which benefits from a more measured pace than some of her more established numbers. She always raises the roof, and tonight ends on the singalong “Weirdo”, which managed to set the place alight.

After Sammy, Paul contributed a (new?) piece on the joys (ahem) of aging, followed by Vinnie Gibbons. Vinnie’s barbed “Sole Trader” is smart and very dark, with his characteristically underplayed wit. And his “Heston Blumanthal” was scathing and hilarious.

Following him was Ant Smith. Now there’s no denying the jet-engine vehemence of his bellowed works, but in a small space with uncomfortable seating it’s a bit too intense for me!

With the bar and the volume well and truly raised, The Antipoet launch into an established set, ending on the deliciously naughty “Tights not Stockings”

The piercing blue eyes of the dashingly dishevelled Ed Tudor-­Pole, fix the audience with a maniacal stare. His bluesy rock style is impressive, but his goading of the audience to dance seemed rather uncomfortable in this stiffly-seated place. Also, both his vocal mic and his guitar seemed to be overdriven, making some fantastic music a bit painful. However, Ed is an incredible player and utterly charming performer, which more than outweighed these problems.

His laments on being called “not a punk” raised the issue of truth and artifice, very suitable for a poetry gig! Tearing up the rule-book, what a great thought to go home on after such a strong night from the Rrrants stable, where there is variety of everything, except for effort and passion. And every performer did themselves proud on both of those fronts. Bravo!

RRRANTS replys:  Agreed re sound but the room is not designed for the full punk experience (Must give that guy a bigger venue!) 

Review of  Philfy Phil's

SEEDY CD.

by Paul Eccentric

Click for Shop

 We've waited a long time for this. Philfy Phil is a living legend and his many fans around the globe have been demanding hard copy of the man's material for years.

 But translating a live act onto any form of stored medium can be a risky operation. A straight live recording; however professionally captured, will usually sound as if it's lacking something and it is: the atmosphere of the event itself. Similarly, hearing what is essentially a live act turned into a slick and overly produced glossy product can be an equally disappointing experience for the artist's original fans.

 Philfy Phil is a live performer. While his lyrics are exceptionally clever and funny, the real genius and charm of his act is in his live performance.

 A collective breath was held at Rrrants when Phil announced the arrival of his debut CD. Would it live up to the sheer hilarity of his shows? Would it work as well without the parody maestro's obligatory corpsing on final approach of a punch line? Would it sound better or worse if his guests had rehearsed their backing lines before performing them?

 What Phil has produced is the perfect compromise of the live v studio debate. This is a studio recording, but he has wisely chosen to eschew the trappings of too much faf'n polish and gone for an accessible, no frills adaptation which instantly evokes the very best of his live shows! Phew. Coulda' gone either way there, but like i said before, the man's a genius.

Review of Jammiesammy

 The George & Dragon, Chesham,

27th of March 2010

by Paul Eccentric

I've lost count of the number of times that I've seen her perform over the past year, from pubs to libraries; festivals to canal boats and I have never known her fail to storm an event. Having studied her act, I'm putting it down to the fact that as she stands up to the mic, tonight with that ostentatious red satin and velvet fifties dress, red hair, pink be stickered guitar and the mischievous grin of a five year old whose just learned her first naughty word, only four of us in this packed venue have any idea what's coming next. Nobody is expecting this sweet little girl to rhyme 'vibrator' with 'chronic masturbator' nor sing them a song about how desperately she needs to pee, and all with the most perfect comic timing and subtlety of delivery.

It's the wry little looks to camera; it's the innocence of that smile despite the fact that she's just said fuck at a children's party; it's the total lack of an ego whist retaining a confident stage charm; it's Sammy, once again trouncing everybody else on the bill with her. See to believe!

Paul Eccentric

Review of 'The Odd Eccentric'

'The Horns - March 2010'

By Jammiesammy

Standing in the crowd watching the band set up their instruments is in itself a sight to behold. 9 members of the band edge around one another on a tiny stage as they set up an electric keyboard, guitars, a trumpet and saxophone stand, the double bass is put to one side and mics are set up for the 2 backing singers and the lead singer (Who has the biggest pair of cymbols i've ever seen).  Needless to say there is little room for manouver.  yet everyone manages to wait their turn politely to do what they need to do to ensure their ready for the nights entertainment.

Now couple this with the fact that some of the band members live in places like Bournemouth, Brighton and Cambridge means that rehersals are far and few between, it makes you realise that what you are about to witness is nothing short of technical genius, and thats before anyones even actually played a song.

The Odd Eccentric.  How would one describe this particular ensemble of musicians.  Its almost like trying to describe colours to a blind person, if you haven't heard any of their music its difficult to explain just how different they sound in comparison to anything else out there. Each song has its own style yet sung and performed in a way that ties the whole set together.  Different and unique yet alluringly familiar.  Monday the 15th of March was the first time I had ever heard any of The Odd Eccentric and instantly I knew I was a fan.  The lyrics are brilliant the melodies are catchy and drive you insane for days afterwards when they wont get out of your head.  Basically if you ever have a chance to get along to one of their gigs.  I would do it without hesitation.  You'll never be the same again. This I promise you.

Sammy

'O Derry Boy'

by Paul Eccentric
 

Rrrants

at The Camden Eye

31st January 2010

Review by Sophie Cameron

Video highlights of this event can be found at

Get Your Ass to Camden Pronto! Sunday 31^st January

What can I say? I hardly have lungs left to breathe or pants that aren’t soiled. I am sending my dry cleaning and health bill to Rrrants for fucking me up. OK I didn’t have to pay for the evening and apart from the fact that it was the best evening’s entertainment in the whole world this is a recession and my briefs were expensive. I could use massive words and poetic smooches to try and re-fashion the night before your very eyes, like a sleazy attempt to wank at a long gone shag marathon, but the end product will undoubtedly be lack lustre.

Live poetry of this quality is a rare and beautiful (notice I didn’t say sexy) beast. The audience poised - mouths open and hearts laid out for treading on, the poets full up with words and aggressive lunges, I cannot express to you the explosion in ones brain when poetry becomes more than just dead verse on the page, but true physical full frontal expression, right from the epicentre of human humanness.

One day I will switch on my telly and see the anti-poet, Ant Smith, Rob Auton, Philfy Phil and the other man that I can’t remember his name, as he didn’t look like he was going to be any good but in actual fact he was amazing, on the screen and I will smile. I will smile bloody big as it is fucking about time. These guys are genii and if I have to take a used copy of Shakespeare’s complete works into the BBC and set it on fire to show them that then maybe I will.

Rrrants

at The Camden Eye

31st January 2010

Review by Mervyn Cooke Video highlights of this event can be found at

Take an intimate setting, the Camden Eye, avec les francais,  perched eyrie-eyed above the Camden thoroughfare, a garret  full of garrulous poets and musicians and you get yet ANOTHER RRRants star show.

lia Avroutine – always delivers  a solid set , Lada like in his durability, even if the place name poetry had us all guessing  --poetry is indeed a strange language  -why not have in Russian?

Sophie Cameron – shock and awe – what can I say – Sophie?  what can I say ?– is there a column in the Sun or the Daily Star for you?

Harmonica Lewinski captivated us with his acrobatic interpretation of the Ian Drury classic, Billericay Dickie,   His words danced the taut acoustic tightrope as we swayed from side to side with his re-telling of adolescent sex in the back of the Cortina, ramming her hymena…oh the night was worth it just to hear that one song!

And a hard act to follow admitted our Lesser Spotted Derry Wordsmith, Mervyn Cooke, shades of Heaney, shades of Hughes, words hewn from the heart.. “ Very poignant , very humbling “   commented a fellow RRRanter.

No notes, no props, no idea how Rural Ireland 1950-1960’s would appeal to the younger audience- there are universal themes of love and loss,  toil and tenderness that touch all our heartstrings.  Watch out for the next gig , a unique rendition of Ted Hughes ‘ February 14 th – a lamb could not get born’

Richard Frost– the Shamen of the North – strode Gandalf like, Noggin the Nog and foretold the future, a King Arthur of the Northern Line – God could I do with that pair of oven gloves he wore! ..100% inspirational and original.

Robert Auton is the poet sniper among us – he picks us off with his tales told through the prism of the absurd.  Very creative and delivered with verve.  Pizza Poetry –what’s your topping?

Ant Smith – shock and awe too!  – I was gobsmacked!

Philphy Phil –– the troubadour,  the wandering minstrel of the shires, the ballader with cheer…tongue in cheek – we love it!

And finally Poeterry – nervy in preparations,  his words slide of the page like the lavish women he lusts after, oily and willing all over. 

And there you have it a unique mix of the avant-garde, the luscious  and the lavish – you get what is says on the tin , Rhythmical, Ravings & Rants.   Catch it again on the 31 March at the Goat in St Albans.

Rrrants Bard-Aid

at The Etcetera Theatre

28th January 2010

Review by Christine Adams

My brother had a punk compilation LP called ‘20 of Another Kind’. I’m sure if you looked at side 1, track 8 under a microscope, you would notice much more wear and tear to the groove here than on any of the tracks on that record.

That track was ‘Gary Gilmore’s Eyes’ by The Adverts. I didn’t really understand the lyrics but to a gangly 13 year old they were suitably sinister and subversive.

Some thirty years later, Ant, my husband, asks me if I fancy going to see TV Smith in Camden.

I pause.....Never meet your heroes.

It’s Thursday 28^th January and we head to the Etcetera Theatre above the Oxford Arms, Camden. We are greeted by the lovely Donna who could be a shampoo model and makes us feel like old friends. In fact, the atmosphere was of an intimate party full of fun, sweet, anything goes characters - Rrrants events are clearly about inclusiveness.

The evening begins with the Antipoet - a double-bass/vocal duo that performs a far too short set of wickedly funny and brutal satire. I can’t really compare them to anyone else but the piece ‘Artists’ is bugging me as it reminds me of a track that was continually played on Annie Nightingale’s request show in the ‘80s and I can’t remember the artist or the title.

They are followed by the sartorially elegant Terence whose confidence in his dress is sadly not matched by confidence in his material. The rhythms of the words sound great but because he seems afraid to project I can’t get a clear grasp of his message. Shout up Terence mate – we want to hear you!

Rachel Pantechnicon is up next. Goodness me, she is fantastic. I can’t hear all her jokes and cracks as I’m laughing too much but, for me, the highlight is her children’s book about the lion with cheese grater legs - I am bent double and gasping for breath when she reveals the cover for adults.

So, finally, TV Smith takes to the stage. He is a bouncy, grey-haired chap who wears his place in music history with pride. Considering that many of the songs in his energetic, acoustic set were written when he was a teenager, there’s no navel-gazing angst or cod-intellectualism but pretty sharp and well-constructed lyrics. During the set he makes a mischievous comment about Iggy Pop starring in the adverts and then before I know it we’re at the penultimate song. The hit. Ok, it’s an acoustic version but that doesn’t matter, he sings the quite strange melody in the chorus perfectly and, all of a sudden, I feel tears streaming down my face. I am so relieved that I am not as bitter and world-weary as I thought when a 30 year-old (plus) song about a murderer can still affect me.

The night is over. TV Smith is stood at the end of my row chatting to Donna. I want to gush effusively but I’m covered in teary snot so I shuffle out of the little theatre on a beautiful high.

Brilliant.

Review of "Splat That Spider"

For anybody who has ever regretted buying an album on the strength of a solitary hit single, Jammie Sammy's 'Splat That Spider' should rank as a welcome antidote. If, like me, you have already become addicted to her Youtube smash 'The Kitkat Song', but were not expecting her to have a whole album of catchy, sarky and laugh out loud funny, yet nod'n wink poignant songs up her brightly coloured sleeves, then think again! 'Splat That Spider' is a studio recording of her infamous 2009 live set, which although benefitting from the odd overdubbed backing line and a sharper vocal mix, still manages to retain the raw edge of her live performances. Every track is classic Sammy! I quite liked Aberdeen when i went there, but then i didn't grow up there and i now know why they hounded her out of the city! Buy it from the rrrants shop priced £5 with £1 from each disc kindly donated to Bardaid! Go Sammy

Paul Eccentric Jan' 2010

Rrrants Bard-Aid

at The Etcetera

28th Jan 2010

Review by JammieSammy

Video highlights of this event can be found at

Rrrants

at The Camden Eye

8th December 2009

Review by Ant Smith

Video highlights of this event can be found at

'Sevenths:

twisted tales for sinners'

by Danni Antagonist.

(Available now @50p plus p+p. See her link on the 'performers' page.)

RRRants. The Watford library

12th November 2009

Review by Heather Merrison after her first ever performance in public

I found last nights gig to be really intellectually phenomenal. The RRRants company are by far the most warm, laid back and profound performers ever. Not to mention hilarious, I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. They made me feel really welcome like part of a very large weird, wacky, wonderful and talented family, I was quite nervous about making a mistake but I quickly learnt that all cock ups were embraced with laughter and light heartedness, nor did I think I’d ever find a place that I felt like I belonged, I couldn’t have been more wrong! I felt more at home with the RRRants group than a child in a 3 story sweet shop. They have something really amazingly special that I don’t think you would find with another performance company. I would love to perform, grow and learn with RRRants for as long as they’ll have me.

– Unplugged

Review - Wendover Library 8 October 2009

 I arrived at Wendover library expecting to see the regular and engaging assemblage of vaudevillians that gather for an Antipoet performance, but goodness, was I surprised. Before me sat an audience looking way out of their comfort zone as two rock stars stood either side of a Stand-Up-Bass preparing to perform. I soon learned that the audience were a local writer’s group who were most likely expecting an evening of genteel poetry reading followed by a question and answer session, but to their horror, found they had inadvertently booked a Rock-n’-Roll band. Take it away.…The Antipoet.

 I watched eyebrows rise, jaws drop, and bemusement dissolve into total engagement as Paul Eccentric, an accomplished performer with a touch of ‘attitude’ about him, delivered his perfectly written observations with just the right mix of anger, angst, irony and pathos.  Alongside him, Ian Newman, whose magical bass playing floats out notes that entwine, caress and when called for supply a powerful counterpoint to Eccentric’s words. This evening The Antipoet’s collective genius wove a magical dance, showering the audience with unique sensual delights; sweet, light and some beautifully dark.

 Many in the audience I thought had had their perceptions of ‘creativity’ deconstructed in an instant. I could see though, they were hugely entertained and some I noticed moved by the experience. Invited to operate in a different world of consciousness by The Antipoet experience, the group had been offered exciting new possibilities and unlimited creative horizons. I’m sure they will take up the challenge.

Barry J Macey

Sir Lobby Lud

 At The Cock in Sarratt, Herts, 27th of July- reviewed by Nobby Thorts for

'Hubble Bubble: Poetry In Potions' magazine, issue #6 summer 09

Leading the vanguard of 1930s kitsch revivalism is Watford's own, Sir Lobby Lud.
Surely it is time that we saw a return to ukulele based pop? Lobby seems to think so, and after being transported back through a hookah smoke portal to an English seafront pier in 1933 by his anachronistic melodies and halcyon lyrics, I'm forced to agree. These were the days when popstars were cravat wearing gentlemen who knew how to dress, had proper diction, wouldn't even dream of smackin' their bitches up and sang sanguine dittys about custard creams and wireless sets. But is it poetry? It is if i say it is and i do.

'And isn't that the Basswhore on loan from The Antipoet slapping some feisty rhythms, adding a new dimension to an already damn spiffing act? Top hole!!

Review of The NakedPoetryFestival',11th & 12th July 09 by Fawn Kate for KultureShock.

    Fifteen poets in three venues over two days. The first annual RRRANTS NakedPoetryFestival was a storming success!

    From the cramped and sultry confines of Covent Garden's iconic Poetry Cafè, through the rock concert excesses of the Marquee stage of Boxmoor's Music On The Moor Festival to the bawdy barroom blitz of The Horns in Watford,

    RRRANTS did what RRRANTS does best: promoting an eclectic mix of straight and comic poetry to an equally diverse blend of punter over a variety of different venues.
Each of the three shows forming the core of the festival gave it's audience a unique smorgasbord of heartfelt emotion, comic observation and surreallist weirdness.
Tears flowed throughout the weekend, some from empathy, but others from humour. If you haven't caught a RRRANTS performance yet, then get yourself to the next one!!

Artwist is that man.
I Taste The Rain takes the reader on a journey from one culture to the next, told through the eyes of a Canadian educated Russian now living in England. For the full experience, find the man himself and hear him reading it in the accent that fits the text!

REVIEW OF POETERRY at The Maltings Arts Theatre, St.Albans, 20.5.09 by Jim Reaper~

WET AS A FISH TANK!

 Anyone who saw Poeterry's live debut at The Flint Cottage in High Wycombe exactly one year ago would be astounded by his recent form. No more the shy fumbling heckler fodder of those early open mic' performances, the Poeterry that supported the great Francesca Beard at Wednesday night's Oral Cabaret is now a bubbling cauldron of rhythmic passion and Caribbean soul. From his opener, 'My Dad', the heartrending story of the three words that he was never able to say to his father, to the flagrant sexual imagery of 'Untitled', (though I think it should be called 'Masterpiece'), his current 'love' set will undoubtedly leave you "as wet as a fish tank"!

REVIEW OF 'DEMO TAPE' BY MAT LLOYD Published 2.4.09 - ISBN: 978-1-4092-6270-1 priced £5.

 The book is entitled 'Demo Tape', a knowing nod to the fact that Mat's words are written to be spoken aloud. But that's not to say that his poetry doesn't work on the page. In fact, particularly with pieces like 'This Town' and 'Blokes Poem', there is even more to be gained by seeing the stories laid out in front of you. The pieces in this collection are more than just poems. They read like individual novellas; tightly crafted short stories cast with characters that you are bound to miss once their tales have been told. It's a dark dystopian dimension that they inhabit and then you realise that it's the real world and you're living it too. Mat wants to make poetry cool, but with this book we think he could raise those expectations and make poetry rule!

Rrrants Fairness & Respect Policy

The Owners of Rhythmical Ravings & Rants' operate a strict anti bigotry policy for individuals work, but at the same time are firm advocates of free speech and the right to reply. We do however reserve the right to make a decision about submissions to this forum based on our own opinions and will remove inappropriate content, without debate.