We like it when we get a chance to do something a little different. This is where Dean’s dark spoken word past comes in handy. So, a few months ago Matt McAteer got in touch with Dean to ask if he would do some spoken word, Dean said cool. Dean got back in touch and said ‘is it okay if there is some music in the set?’ Matt said cool. Dean got back back in touch and said ‘is it okay if it is mostly music?’ Matt said cool. Dean got back back back in touch and said ‘Is it okay if it is all music?’ Matt said cool. Dean got back back back back in touch and said ‘ - 273°C’
Matt said cool.
The posters for the evening were looking great and we were very very excited to be sharing the night with two very good friends of ours - Keith Ford and Miggy Angel. We were also excited to share the night with friends we were yet to make, Matt McAteer and Ichabod.
We arrived and the red walls and the red carpet told us we were at the right place, not just for our set, but in life, obviously.
Matt met us at the top of the stairs, welcomed us to the club and apologised profusely as he was having to quickly shoot off to get some things he had forgotten - like his wife, Melanie.
Next up we met Hayley, Ichabod’s other half. Everyone was so warm, welcoming and genuine, and we aren’t just saying that because she complimented my Crash Bandicoot T-Shirt.
During our sound check, Kieran (Ichabod) said things like ‘yeah, I’m really sorry.’ ‘If that’s okay with you guys.’ ‘I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I am doing.’ To which we say horse manure, sir! With only one mic, he managed to create one of the best sounds we have played with. The one mic worked for all of us too: Him as a solo artist, the poets as readers and us, as a duo.
Matt (as every good MC does) started off the night. The first poem included language of DaDa poets. A made up language (but then again aren’t they all?). Matt introduced the night with good humour and set the tone for the evening perfectly.
Next up was Ichabod. Dean and I like surprises. We try our best to not watch trailers for films, read the blurb of books, and always read political manifestos (then you’re even more surprised when they get into government!). We like going into things blind. Most of the time this leads to good things. Tonight was one of them nights. We knew that Ichabod would be playing but, having not heard his material before we were pleasantly surprised. The best description I heard from the night was ‘The voice of a young Elvis, the body of Elvis in Vegas’. Although, I think that would actually be doing him a slight disservice to compare him to anyone, certainly an act of his own with an incredible voice, varying guitar style and lyrics to make your heart wince.
A small break, again, everyone very chatty, warm and welcoming. Next up was Keith. Keith spins words and poetry like a spider spins thread. Weaving his words around the room with a deft precision that can only come with poems about spit, or poems that have been written out on a spindle of bog roll. The same poem could make you laugh out loud but often had a poignant end to make your heart stop and your head spin.
The force of nature, only known to us as ‘Chris’ sat through the next break telling us all about ABBA and Bowie. A great mix to be fair, we like our tastes eclectic. He sat looking genuinely distressed that no one would accept his offerings of pork scratchings as we set up to play.
Our set went down a treat and it was lovely to have an attentive audience. Lots of whooping, and with Miggy in the audience, deafening whistles, too. We told the story of our band name, and how to some people it means a warm, safe place… And to others it means vagina… And to some, that’s the same thing anyway.
It was getting late but the night was still young. Last up was Miggy. Notoriously hard to photograph (because he is so animated). Miggy is a fantastic poet. His poetry comes from the real. Real experiences, real people and real feelings. There is nothing quite like the poetry that comes from someone who has been saved by the very thing itself. It is true, heartwarming and lacking in pretentiousness. Poetry that is accessible to all, not just academics, and that’s how it should be.
The night drew to a close and there were a lot of hand shakes, kind words and jeers of TAKEAWAY!
Keith very kindly gave us a lift home with the added bonus of stopping for a cheesy garlic bread on the way. We then sat in the making room at home, Miggy and Keith with napkins in their shirts and kebabs on their laps, talking about the excellent night. We ate and stayed up to the wee hours talking about life, poetry and music. All while eating cheesy garlic bread and at 3 in the morning I had the epiphany. Just like the start of the night. We are right where we are meant to be.