Iguana Bar (Chorlton) & North Manchester FM

I wasn’t planning on writing about another Manchester open mic.  The test I've set myself is to get round as many different towns and cities as possible, and I’ve already written about two great Manchester nights here.  Problem is, to coin a phrase, Manchester is ‘so hot right now!'

The Iguana Bar in Chorlton has an open mic every Tuesday that is run by successful musician Charlie Allen.  There’s two good things about the night.  The first is that they got a decent sound guy who sorts out the PA, which means someone is always there concentrating on the levels.  It also means Charlie is free to organise and compere the night.  The second, and most unique from my experience, is that whole thing is recorded for radio.  The highlights of the open mic are played on the Late Junction with Jonathan Darwin on Manchester 106.6.

When I arrive at the Iguana Bar, Manchester legend Krazy Horse is singing about his own life.  Krazy Horse has long grey hair in a pony tail and leaps bare foot about the stage blasting out his songs.  This guy is an inspiration to anyone who thinks they are too old to enjoy playing music.  You watch Krazy Horse, who is in his 60’s (I know this because he told us) and his enthusiasm rubs off on you.  You'll be tapping your foot and shaking a tambourine before you know it. 

Because of the popularity of the night and the number of musicians that have shown up Charlie has reduced each performance to 10 minutes.  This is so everyone can get to play.  It also makes for a good evening, because you get to see more variety that way.

I follow Krazy Horse with kaoss plus accordion and it takes a while to set up, so I’m conscious of the time.  The sound guy isn’t phased by the unusual combination of instruments, but it clearly phases me because I forget to connect the sampler mic.  I play Disappeared Friend, which is digital beat poetry, and then Loopy Juice, which is a completely daft piece about the type of booze that sends you mentalist.  Jack Daniels is my enemy, what's yours?  This song went down well in Hebden Bridge the previous week and there were people dancing along, but I feel I’m making too many mistakes to get it off the ground tonight.

After I’ve played a singer called Rick O’Shea tests out some spoken word and guitar picking.  Then the awesome Alexx O’Shea plays saxaphone over a looped casio keyboard and kaossilator.  Here is a musician who likes to push the boundaries of her art.  You can read more of her in a previous Manchester blog I wrote about Illusions Bar on a Monday night.

Oscar and Greta play next and I’ve seen them at Iguana once before.  Greta has a cracking voice and theres also some quality, dark lyrics in these songs.  When Greta sings she has this meloncholy about her and it makes for a wonderful performance.  There’s something uncertain and lonesome about their tunes, and they are always well received.

A guy from Stoke plays slide guitar on an instrument he’s made for himself.  He tells us in a blues song that he built the guitar from an old wine box.  In fact, the chorus tells of getting wood and squirting glue into holes, so I start to wonder if the song is about something else.

The only down side of the Iguana night is the beautiful game.  They got major television coverage down here, so if there’s a big match on you may find yourself playing through the cheers and chants of a lively football crowd or waiting a little bit longer to play.  But there are no major matches on tonight and the football crowd have assembled at the far end of the bar for some lesser kickings.  The open mic and football coverage co-exists exceedingly well.

There are many more performers to come and this is a late night, sometimes going on into the early hours of the morning.  But I’ve got to get back over the moors before the witching hour and have to make tracks around about 11ish, so I'm sorry not to have seen all the other performers.

A few nights later and I’m knocking back a beer and just finished watching True Blood.  The second series was an enjoyable blood fest, but this new series is a disappointment.  So I tune into Manchester 106.6 via the internet and find myself listening to an interview with Naymedici who I'm pleased to hear are playing Friends of Mine Festival - they deserve it.

At around 11’o’clock Jonathan Darwin is joined by a laid back Charlie Allen who explains that there was technical hitch with the open mic the previous Tuesday, and none of the acts were recorded.  These things happen eh?  However, he is to play a best of open mic acts instead.  They play four open mic acts in total and these are mixed in with other famous performers of Charlie’s choice.  To be honest I’d like to have heard more of the open mic sessions but that’s just me, and I suppose they got to keep a broad range of listeners happy.

There was a particularly good song by an outfit called Sam Hayne and The Blood Flames.  They also use a cajon to good effect and there must be someone out there making a mint out of these things because they are popping up everywhere I go.  There was also some brilliant Irish music and fiddle playing.  And Charlie finished, neatly for me, because this is where my Iguana night began, with a song by Krazy Horse.

It’s a wonderful thing the people at Iguana Bar and North Manchester FM are doing for live music.  Giving performers and musicians the opportunity to play and maybe even be on local radio.  It’s not an all night long singer songwriter affair either and they actively encourage every kind of music and performance, which always make for a much more interesting night in my opinion.  You can listen to the open mic show on the link below (every Friday night) and they also provide a play again service if you got other things to do on a Friday night.

www.northmanchesterfm.org

Poet and the Loops (new beat poetry)

Its all the about the poetry man!
Poet and the Loops - Smells of London

Taylor John’s House – Coventry (13.2.2011)

News Flash:

I will be supporting Supine Orchestra at Esquires in Coventry on 26 March 2011 - starts at 7pm






A rainy night in the city they send you to when they stop talking to you, and the place I grew up.  Coventry is always on my mind and on the back of a weekend seeing family, I tracked down an open mic at The Tin Angel on Sunday night. 


Spinning round the 1960s ring round I weave in and out of cars weaving in and out of me in a completely chaotic fashion.  How we don't crash into each other is all down to timing and the excellence of the human mind, but it would only take the slightest of misjudgments to end up wrapped round a lampost.  I park up beneath a high rise and head down some steps, where moments earlier I'd seen two figures in the gloomy night disappearing with guitars.

Having searched the internet for open mics in Coventry, the results kept telling me of The Tin Angel in Spon Street.  A Kashmir night that promised to welcome all comers and all instruments.  It sounded just the job, but at the last minute I discovered The Tin Angel had been closed, something to do with a dodgy landlord and a change of locks.  The open mic had been relocated to Taylor John’s House in the coal vaults of the canal basin.

As a kid I used to come to the canal basin to do canoeing.  It was a rough and ready place back then, overgrown with a small community of hippy barge dwellers who had given up their houses for a simpler way of life.  Now the area had been the subject of urban improvement and there were no longer any canal barges to be seen.  The run down buildings were now upmarket offices and businesses.

It took me a while to find Taylor John’s House, disguised behind patchwork arches that once stored coal for an industrial revolution.  Inside, a small gathering of musicians were sitting in the comfy chairs around a couple of microphone stands.  There was a conversation about car crashes and I reckon they must be talking about that ring road I just drove in on.

After I’d got a drink, I was surprised to be charged a £1 entrance fee.  In all my travels to over 40 different open mics this is the first time I’ve ever had to pay to play, and although a quid isn't much in the great scheme of things, it seemed a bit mean.  In Leeds and Bristol there were free drinks for playing, in Oxford you got a free MP3 of your set, in Lancashire I’d even got a free meal, in Manchester they put you on the local radio, but in Coventry you get to pay.  I love my home town!

The host for the night is Mason and he kicks off the event with some original songs.  The songs have a reference point somewhere in the iconic 60's, but with a contemporary feel and slightly Bowie-ish.  I follow Mason with the beat poetry, but unfortunately the major kaoss doesn't like the PA or vica versa, so I have to get by with the hand held version.  It works well, but the full set up would have been better.  A gravel voiced blues guitarist is up next and is well received, then two young female singers sing some ballads.  Throughout their songs a guy plays along on a cajon at the other end of the bar, and it makes for a party atmosphere.

More musicians arrive and I get talking to Rich and Joel who collectively are Supine Orchestra.  They liked what I was doing with the kaoss poet.  I gave them a copy of my lyric book and they gave me two of their Cd's in return.  This is what open mics are about, meeting different people and finding out about their music.


Unfortunately I didn't get to see Supine Orchestra play as I had to leave before they took to the stage.  But I listened to their Cd's all the way back to Yorkshire the following day and was struck by the depth of the music and the lyrics.  Country and folk influenced songs and some great stories, such as:


'Rodriguez and me, breaking into factories, stuck in the air vent when the alarm went, hanging by the thread of my jeans' (Rodriguez and me) - that one made me chuckle


'Round the back of the bottle bank where the seagulls fought me for my soul' (Feverish Dreams)


A lot of thought had gone into the lyrics and you can check out Supine Orchestra on their myspace:

http://www.myspace.com/supineorchestra


There's a good crowd at Taylor John’s House and a decent welcome.  And judging by the quality of the music there is still some great song smithing going on in the old home town.

Noise Upstairs - The Riverside, Sheffield (9.2.2011)

When I was growing up, I remember with some fondness, forming a noise duo with a friend of mine called Ozz.  We were inspired by artists such as Throbbing Gristle, John Cale and Cabaret Voltaire into experimenting with music.  Our preferred choice of 'instrument' was a cassette tape recorder.  We would remove the back off these machines and poke our fingers around in the circuits so that they screamed back at us, as if we were harming them in some terrible way.  Maybe we were amongst the first of the circuit benders, but the practice hadn't been named back then. 

Over the years I have continued to dabble in using obscure instruments and household objects to come up with interesting sounds.  I often sample those noises and put them with something more melodic, because in the end I’m always pulled back to melody.   But these experiments with sound can be great fun, particularly when you find a sound that is like nothing else you’ve ever listened to.  So when I heard about Noise Upstairs, which is run by a group of enthusiasts in both Manchester and Sheffield, I was intrigued to find out more.

I opted to go to the Sheffield event because it took place at The Riverside, a venue I’d heard good things about and one which puts on a variety of eclectic and different nights, from theatre through to live bands and spoken word.  It’s situated on the outskirts of the city centre, in amongst a mix of high rise flats and next to a busy roundabout. 

On arrival at the venue I got a pint of Guinness and made my way upstairs.  I said hello to some of the guys running the event and one of them, Johnny, explained the set up.  You put your name in a hat and then they draw out three names at random, so you don’t know who your going to be playing with.  It could be any combination of instruments and objects.  They do this for an hour or so, and then there is a guest band, followed by more of the names in a hat.

I sat down at a table near the back of the room and picked up a copy of a free art magazine called Now Then.  One of the musicians was talking to another and it turned out he was just finishing a PhD.  A deep conversation ensued about the difficulties of acoustic and electronic combination in the key of F.  Another conversation related to sign waves, differentials and the availability of recording equipment in music departments.  It occured to me that many of the people here were music academics who had chosen the ways of contemporary noise over contemporary music.  I started to feel a little out of my depth and wondered whether the ‘anything goes’ philosophy was what it promised to be.  I’d had bad experiences with literature and poetry academics who looked down on anyone who hadn’t studied the subject at their high level.  Academics can be very elitist, and so can musicians - the fact was I needn't have worried.

When the programme got under way my name was the first out of the hat.  And I was teamed up with a saxophonist called Ian and an American by the name Rodrigo.  I made my way carefully into the noise proceedings feeling a little uneasy with the intensity of it all.  But as the process got going it became more relaxed and I decided to avoid the instrument samples on the kaoss pad and went for the sound effects.  Then I used the vocoder to loop some random words and sounds into the mix, speeding them up and slowed them down (trying to achieve an audio concrete poetry of some kind).  Ian threw in some sharp bursts of sound over the top and Rodrigo added to the ambiance with guitar.  Strangely enough, as random a collection of individuals that had never met before, we worked our way through the piece and found exactly the right place to stop.  The noise had its own life span and the ending felt very natural.

The next random set of musicians were Angie, Steve and Johnny.  Angie played an acoustic guitar upside down so that the strings were resting on a table.  She wrote on pieces of paper and then tore them up on the back of the guitar so that it could be heard through the PA via a microphone.  Steve played some chaotic bass lines.  Johnny stroked and tapped a small drum kit with an anti-rhythm, so that there was never a beat for the human heart to hook up to.  I watched the dark surging waters of the River Don outside the window, and it seemed like the reflection of neon lights was moving with this discord.  And again the ending came quite naturally, somehow deliberate, but never intended.

There were more performances from more trios and of particular note was an amplified cymbal which was played by another American by the name of Ray.  Ray had laid out what looked like a yoga mat on the floor and set the cymbal down on it.  He used various metal objects such as a fork, and an egg whisk, to scrape, tap and generally upset the cymbal into action.  At one moment it sounded like that noise you get when you run your nails down a blackboard, and another it resembled the ringing in your ears after you’ve run your fingers down a blackboard, the sound of the heart thumping in your brain.

Ray stroked and attacked his cymbal with relish.  He waved his arm out at the audience and then twisted his hand on his wrist in an odd gesture of defiance.  He shut his eyes and screwed up his face as the noises he was making got louder and more awkward.  He fidgeted and hesitated throughout the set in the manner of the edgy sound he was creating, and it was good to watch his amplified cymbal getting a right pasting. 

Meanwhile, a musician called Anton, filled the room with a sweeping synthesised feedback from an acoustic guitar.  In normal circumstances you would be fighting to prevent this from happening, but in this upside down world it was positively encouraged.  It complemented the sparse moments of the cymbal abuse and the quick bursts of the clarinet from the third of the players.

The guest act brought together Ian, Ray and Rodrigo as 16 Figures.  Rodrigo produced a stringed instrument almost like a guitar, but not a guitar, and he played it alongside a home made electronic box which was covered in switches.  From talking to Rodrigo earlier I’d learnt the box contained a paper circuit, putting together transformers and resistors in such a way to create random buzzing and whirring noises, as you changed the parameters and setting via an array of switches.

16 Figures created a vibrant and agitated noise and I had to stop myself from stroking my chin too vigorously.  Ray fidgeted around in his kneeling position even more than before, hovering over the amplified cymbal, whilst Ian seemed to relax into a burst of saxophone that started to sound almost classical, before stopping himself and using the instrument in a more percussive way.  I guess this is one form of music where if you hit on a pleasing melody you have to work yourself away from it because that ways lays convention.

When 16 Figures had finished I retrieved my stuff from the back of the stage and then bought a copy of the Noise Upstairs compilation.  When I got talking to a few of the Noise guys I realised very quickly they were not at all elitist.  This was an error of judgement on my part and one that was born out of bad experiences with academics in the literary field.  In fact they were as friendly and genuine a bunch as you could possibly come across, and passionate about their chosen art form.

The Noise Upstairs is something to be cherished and valued in a society that is dominated by manufactured sounds of the most banal and unimaginative kind.  I despair of the mediocrity of music, and even those who think their songs or creations may not be part of the middle ground, are actually more middle ground than they realise.  All singer song writers with a desire for creating something different should try a session of noise and see whether some of this creative experimentation rubs off on them.

I've included a video of Ray with the amplified cymbal below.

Earl of Camden - London (31.1.11)

I had unfinished business at the Earl of Camden.  The last time I was at the open mic here I bottled it.  The kaoss poet was a new concept and I was still testing the waters.  Lack of confidence and the evil twin was riding on my shoulder, going on at me like no tomorrow.  A shifting sands of an audience turned from diners to lads night out.  The fear of prejudice and the fear of non-conformity was haunting me, so I made my excuses and left.

It felt very different nine months on.  I’d been through the mill.  I’d played harsh venues in small towns and bars all around the country.  In one of them the people turned their backs on me.  In another I got a load of verbal from a drunk who wanted to kick my head in because of the poetry.  And I’d played to indifferent all comers who wanted the familiarity of safe covers and songs they could sing along to.  At this point, I still hoped people found something in my words and beats, but I was beyond caring what they thought.

The Earl of Camden open mic is run by Treana and takes place every Monday night.  This is lively spot with a diverse range of punters, some of whom are here to watch the football, whilst others are here to have a few drinks with friends and work colleagues.  They're not here for the music, but they aint a bad crowd either, and are willing to give it a listen and show a bit of appreciation. 

There’s also a good crowd of musicians and their friends who take up the tables around the stage area, so you’re always guaranteed a responsive audience at the live music end of the bar.

Whilst Treana is setting up the PA, one of the staff switches off the plasma screen and drapes a surreal picture of alien beings and a horse’s head at the back of the stage area.  He adds some cut out stars to the scene by hanging them from the overhead pipe work.  Once the stage lights go on, the whole place is lit up by primary colours, and you feel like something good is about to happen.

Treana plays a white semi-acoustic guitar (I wish I knew what make it was) and it sounds impeccable through the PA.  She has a strong voice and a song called ‘The Wheel’ is a particular favourite of mine.  I later find out Treana has released a few albums with a band called Wire Daisies via EMI and has also had her own solo album out.  In fact, according to wikileaks, Treana was ‘discovered’ by Roger Taylor of Queen, and also supported Robbie Williams tour of South Africa in 2006.  I’ll bet that was a wild tour and one which required much in the way of 'fruit and flowers', if you know what I mean - wikileaks (I mean wikipedia) wasn't letting on.

I follow Treana with three bursts of the kaoss and spoken word.  I can’t carry all my electronic gear around with me on these visits to London, so I’m relying on a pocket sized loop generator.  The PA does it justice and I have to make a note of the quality sound they got here.  I just wished I had control of the mixing deck to crank up the volume, so people couldn’t hear themselves think, let alone speak!

A string of good quality singer songwriters follow my set and the evening proves to be a guitar dominated one.  A guy called Laine introduces me to London Pride which is a very nice pint and only £2 a throw, a real bargain for spend thrift drinkers.  Turns out Laine does the sound at the nearby Wheel Barrow in Camden and is also a fine blues guitarist. 

I watch the bags of the women at the next table while they nip outside for a cigarette, and on their return they buy me a pint by way of a thank you and because there are notices saying that you got to keep an eye on your bags on account of the bag thieves.  This is London after all. 

Laine plays some down and out blues and is using his own amp and microphone.  The blues is made all the more authentic by his choice of instrumentation, but the authentic sound is still not quite loud enough for me, and then I start to think I must be going deaf after years of over doing it with the volume control.

One of the best musicians is a mild mannered geezer called Simon who picks and strikes the strings on Treana’s guitar to give out a warm and gentle music.  He taps the frets with his fingers to deliver a complex melody which is spot on.  He gets a resounding and positive applause from all of us who are listening, and even those who aren’t.

The Earl of Camden is well worth a visit on a Monday night and I certainly met some great people there.  The musicianship is top quality and I guess you’d expect that in Camden, and Treana is a very friendly and welcoming host.

The Old Bookbinders Arms – Oxford (9.1.11)

The Old Bookbinder’s Arms (or The Bookies) is in the historic suburb of Jericho in Oxford.  Jericho is just outside the old city wall and is said to have once been a place for travellers to rest if they had reached the city after the gates had closed.  Which made it the perfect place for me to call into after a long trip from up North.

When I arrive at The Bookies, 'Highway to Hell' is playing through the sound system.  I say hello to Nigel who runs the open mic and then settle in a back room full of interesting clutter.  A reel to reel tape recorder, a fishing rod, an assortment of old vinyl pinned to the walls, a selecton of radios - one of which has been hooked up to the sound system, pictures of jazz musicians, an electric guitar, a boran, a venetian mask, a bicycle wheel, bagpipes, a triangle, a battered looking bugle, a poster saying ‘Beheading a Lady’, a beer barrel turned into a chair, and some signed posters of the Beatles on the ceiling.  Random artefacts from times gone by.

Nigel kicks off the night with one of his own songs, which he freely admits is a ‘bit of a softy’, and some of the best songs are.  The Rotafors play next with two guitarists, Nigel on bass, and rhythm provided courtesy of some bongos. The first song is like a bit of a warm up, but by the time they get into the second they are much more relaxed and together.  A foot tapping number with a country feel.

Samuel (pronounced Samwell) from Argentina provides some spoken word, with Nigel picking out some backing on guitar.  I havn't got a clue what Samuel is talking about because its all in Argentinian, he could be talking about putting out the washing for all I know, but it works because he delivers the words with such energy and passion.

A girl by the name of Jess follows and she has a couple of her own songs to play. For one so young she doesn’t seem at all nervous and delivers her music to a supportive audience with confidence, I’d like to have heard more.

After Jess there are more musicians with their own tunes to play and I make a note that there don’t seem to have been any covers tonight.  Which is a good thing in my book, as I’d rather listen to what people have come up with for themselves. 

A duo playing accordion and guitar sing about ‘going down’ and I have to be careful how I describe that.  I’d been thinking of bringing my own accordion tonight, but I’m glad I didn’t because this guy can really play, I mean REALLY play.

I get talking to a lad called Andy and he sings in a local band.  He’s here to play some solo stuff and it turns out he writes a bit of poetry.  I give him a copy of my book ‘Poetry vs Lyrics’ which includes a CD of the kaoss sounds.  That book usually ends up in the toilet, I don’t mean literally ‘in the toilet’, I mean in the small room – its a slim volume and a perfect read for when your having a dump. 

When Andy takes to the stage he apologises that the first song he’s going to play is a depressing one.  If you think about it some of the greatest bands and musicians have favoured depressing music, so I don’t think its something to apologise for.  Besides, I like depressing music - it makes me happy!  And I like the song Andy plays too.  He follows it with a more uptempo Americana tinged piece called South of the Border.

Early in the evening I’d played ‘Its been a good year for the spiders!’ which is all about 2010.  The weird thing about the kaoss pad is that something unexpected usually happens and tonight was no exception, because within the drum pattern a strange crunching could be heard on every other beat.  You just got to live with what the machine will throw at you, make it part of the electronic fun.  This music emulates life, you just can’t predict what’s going to happen next.

After I’d played Nigel told me a secret.  It turns out he records all the performances and sends the music files through to the musicians.  This is a nice touch to the evenings proceedings as it means you can take something away from the night for yourself.  Thanks to Nigel you can listen to some of my set right here:

http://soundcloud.com/corncrake/its-been-a-good-year-for-the-spiders-live-in-oxford

Theres a friendly and relaxed crowd in The Bookies and I guess it reflects the local Jericho community of students, academics, musicians, aging hippies and artists.  Nigel does a good job of keeping the night rolling and giving everyone who wants to play a fair chance, and there are certainly plenty of players.  I hope to go back to The Bookies some day.

Illusions Bar, Manchester (20.12.2010)

Dave’s Early Doors Open Mic

The streets of Manchester were paved with compacted ice on this freezing Monday before Christmas.  The shoppers were hobbling along in their droves trying to avoid going arse over tit into the tramlines, braced for the sub zero temperatures and crowded pavements.

I found myself being carried along by a swarm of people in the Arndale Centre and it was hard to escape.  Every time I got a bit of space someone else moved into it.  Every time I saw an exit, the way was blocked by hoards of people with that crazed look of Christmas in their eyes.  This wasn’t the Manchester I'd planned to see, so I set off for the sanctuary that is the Illusions Bar and Dave’s Early Doors Open Mic.

I don’t know of another open mic that starts at 5.30 like this.  The idea is that you can get along and play some music after work or college, or before going on somewhere else.  I like it, but there weren’t many in when I arrived, perhaps because the event is relatively new and word is still getting round.

The small stage area at the back of the bar is dominated by a grand piano.  Sat playing the piano is Chris who is sporting a Santa hat and singing out some festive tunes.  I’m a sucker for the piano and I reckon the simple formula of human voice plus keyboard is a great foundation for song writing.  It also interests me that songs written on a piano have a much different feel to songs written on guitar.  They go different places and do different things.

A man is circulating the bar offering cheese and onion Pringles to the few people that are in.  I immediately recognise him as Dave, the organiser of this event.  Two women who look like they have just arrived from work refuse the offer of a taste of Dave’s Pringles, but I am more than happy to accept.

“This is an anything goes sort of open mic,” Dave explains to me once we have introduced ourselves.

“That’s my kind of night.” I help myself to another Pringle, because I neglected to eat before I arrived.  The Arndale crush made me forget I was aiming for a chippy.

“People ask me what they should play and I just tell them play what ever you want." Dave continued.  "It’s up to you.  I set up the night so there’s somewhere to play, could be covers, original music, its all welcome here.”

Just then Chris on piano takes a break and Dave goes over to organise the next act.  Its another Chris, but this time playing guitar and strumming out a few classics, such as REM ‘Man on the Moon’.

A woman carrying a plank of wood enters the bar with some friends.  She is called Alexx, and it turns out the plank of wood is an instrument.  A home made twelve string instrument with a pick up and a bar that slides back and forth beneath the strings.  Now we’re talking!  This is what makes these nights so important, the fact that someone would build something unique and then treat us to a rendition of its sounds is fantastic.

Alexx dons some fairy wings and rests the home made instrument on her knees.  The sounds are fed through delay and reverb pedals, and it fills the room with a slightly hippyish vibe.  It makes me want to roll a massive spliff and float into an eternity of sound and vision.  Except I don’t smoke no more. 

Whilst the room is filled with a wall of abstract vibrations there is some other magic happening.  On a large screen behind where we are sitting a live feed is showing what is going on at the far end of the bar.  A magician is playing tricks on a group of onlookers who have gathered to watch him shape shifting a pack of cards and egg cups on a table.  All of it is televised and he has nothing up his sleeves because he has no sleeves.  Its clever stuff and I watch some more.

Meanwhile Dave plays several songs on piano, one of which is an oldie called Crystal Chandalier, reminding us that the trappings of celebrity are nothing new.  And that its destructive powers can make people forget their real friends and loved ones if their not careful. 

It’s a good mixed up kind of a night so I feel some beats and wordsmithing won’t go amiss.  I run through Testosterone, Smells of London and The Return of the Bed Bugs.  It goes down well and for me this is the great thing about Manchester nights, they genuinely embrace different music in this city.  It seems like Manchester revels in pushing the boundaries, and much more so than a lot of other places.

Dave’s Early Doors Open Mic spans the eclectic and the mainstream.  It needs more people willing to add to the variety, but no doubt this will come with time.  And if your lucky, you might just get one or two of Dave's Pringles to keep you going.