JOHN COOPER CLARKE 17th SEPTEMBER 2013, THE ARTRIX BROMSGROVE

I’ve been lucky enough to catch John Cooper Clarke many times over the years.  Sometimes as support to some of the greats such as Joe Strummer, the Only Ones or the Fall, other times playing solo or as part of a joint bill with the likes of John Otway or Atilla The Stockbroker.  I have yet to leave one of his shows feeling less that entertained (okay there was one show in Wolverhampton where he didn’t show up, apparently he had checked into his hotel, gone for a walk and nobody could get hold of him!).  He’s a true showman, mixing poems (old and new these days) usually told at breakneck pace with his humorous take on the world seen through his …. shades, even throwing in hilarious jokes and one liners.  Sometimes I wonder why he is not one of the biggest names in stand-up comedy in the country.  The shows have varied from the chaotic, sometimes with hardly any new material, despite being several years apart, to a couple of much more polished shows last year featuring mainly new material – The Leamington Spa gig was among the best I’ve ever seen, a load of new material, delivered in an more ordered but still edgy performance and the slightly more upmarket Birmingham Town Hall gig (reviewed here) later in the year with an even more polished set.  But as I said earlier, all of them never less than entertaining.  John has seen somewhat of a resurgence in recent years, with tracks featured in the Sopranos, collaborations with Plan B, TV documentaries and radio shows on 6Music.  Not to mention the recent chip advert??  This has resulted in a couple of more high profile tours over the last couple of years in larger venues.

 

And so to tonight’s sold out in Bromsgrove.   First night of the tour at the intimate 300 seater Artrix Theatre (it’s the first time I had visited the Artrix and was so impressed with the venue). 

First on was Luke Wright, a youngish (31 is young right?) Essex poet who told a few humorous tales of everyday life that led up to equally humorous poems.  The audience quickly warmed to his often self-depreciating humour and JCC has obviously been a massive influence of his poetic delivery, which was no bad thing. 

Next up was Mike Garry whom I’d been lucky enough to catch once before.  Mike has a totally engaging and almost hypnotic quality to his performance (he described himself as a youngster being captivated by the melody of the human voice) and although his poems took us to some dark places, leaving us feeling like onlookers, apprehensive and unable to intervene, you felt compelled to follow.  Unlike his previous performance he did intersperse the poems with a smattering of humour (often dark too) and little insights into his life.  It was a brilliant performance and he was spot on when he described the show so far as a balancing act, with the two poets offering something from each end of the spectrum, complimenting each other beautifully.  If you get the opportunity, check him out and especially look out for his tribute piece, Saint Anthony. 

Then to the main event.  This was the first night on quite a long tour and as a result the show perhaps was not quite as polished as it will be by the end of the tour.  A few forgotten lines here and there,  going off at tangents and sometimes never coming back to the main thread, but that slight chaotic undercurrent doesn’t detract any from the evening’s entertainment.  I’m not really sure what exactly I love about JCC.  It could be his spot on comedic delivery.  His off kilter wry observations of the world around him.  The poems, usually humorous, often told at breakneck pace.  He looks as cool as fuck, a punk rock n roller mixing sharp jackets, drainpipes and Chelsea boots with the shades and a bouffant to kill for like he invented the look!  The show is the usual mixed bag.  Older poems such as Beasley Street (and it’s modern sibling, the upmarket Beasley Boulevard) Hire Car (can’t be considered as new anymore) and I Wanna Be Yours as featured on the Arctic Monkeys recent number 1 album, (Alex Turner has long declared his love of JCC), sat comfortably with the newer ones, Deco Beach (making its debut) and his second poem about incarceration (36 Hours being the first) told from the perspective of a schizophrenic inmate.  But for me it’s his delivery when talking about the minutiae of everyday life.  The tale of bumping into the Manic’s James Dean Bradfield in a Manchester hotel over breakfast while eating eggs benedict and trying to break in a new velvet jacket had me crying.  I won’t reveal any more detail but suffice to say it was another great night in the company of the bard of Salford and we left the venue with Evidently Chickentown still ringing in our ears..

JCC - Evidently Chickentown