the scream has scrum
as others have noted, twas a soggy soggy scream, decimating the numbers we're usually used to, but raising that feeling of cameraderie that you can only get with a crowd of strangers in difficult circumstances.
and, as others also have noted, the offerings were mixed, some readings taking to flight through the damp a bit better than others. stuart says that jon paul's style would have been better in a living room. i think it would have been better in the 3rd set. there's a hushed attention in the 3rd set of the scream. the kids have gone home, the darkness brings quiet. the 3rd set is the place for dry wit, for the offhand remark. Goran Simic's reading also suffered last year from being in the 1st set, his wry, mournful humour got lost. i, too, loved the way jon paul hurled his books, a slacker gesture if there ever was one. Afua Cooper finished the first set with a strong though not earth shattering performance, busting through the umbrella sound barrier. As the rhythm and intensity of one of her poems increased, water that had been building up from the rain fall broke through some unseen barrier, and dramatically accenting the poem, rushed down the steps of the raised stage behind her, a gushing kind of climax i couldn't help find a bit exciting.
the 2nd set was flanked by two strong performances. Kevin Conolly's opening poem was perfect, a poem that referenced a peformance situation but told it slant with a surreal twist. he had us at hello. And Darren O'Donnell framed a conversational invitation to social accupuncture with a tightly scripted monologue.
the 3rd set sent us home on a high note. I could listen to Erin Moure read in gallician for hours! and the excerpt she chose to read from the "theoretical" sections of Little Theatres was so apt, given the Big Theatre we were in, you could hear an audible "oh!" from a few places in the audience: "...The message didn't arrive. And now the audience is watching. But it's over. The play starts now: after it's over."
This was the one-two punch of the evening for me. So much to think about in Erin's reading, but then out came angela and her two colleagues, with an absolutely mind-blowing vocal orchestration of sections of wide slumber. the hysteria of those butterflies descending, the "ah" a panicked breath taken by force. the fluttering consonants and vowels. the horrors of the specimen jar. it was nothing short of brilliant. spell-binding. i've often said to my teacher colleagues, when they comment on what a good teacher angela is, that I'd lure her into the classroom if it weren't for the fact that i need her to be a poet because she's writing the poetry I want to read. and now she's performing the poetry i want to hear.
I still had angela's performance ringing in my ears when steven heighton came on, so i was a bit distracted. the richness of his poetry didn't quite carry through his reading. the message didn't arrive. was surprised by his choices from Ecstasy of Skeptics. so many poems in that volume have a livelier rhythm, even a more vivid conceptual energy that would have made good use of the big space you have at the scream. Finally, as others have also noted, Ryan Knighton was affable, his preambles
just as engaging as his work, and i mean that as a compliment to both.
so there's my take,
and you can read others here, here, here, here, and here.
and, as others also have noted, the offerings were mixed, some readings taking to flight through the damp a bit better than others. stuart says that jon paul's style would have been better in a living room. i think it would have been better in the 3rd set. there's a hushed attention in the 3rd set of the scream. the kids have gone home, the darkness brings quiet. the 3rd set is the place for dry wit, for the offhand remark. Goran Simic's reading also suffered last year from being in the 1st set, his wry, mournful humour got lost. i, too, loved the way jon paul hurled his books, a slacker gesture if there ever was one. Afua Cooper finished the first set with a strong though not earth shattering performance, busting through the umbrella sound barrier. As the rhythm and intensity of one of her poems increased, water that had been building up from the rain fall broke through some unseen barrier, and dramatically accenting the poem, rushed down the steps of the raised stage behind her, a gushing kind of climax i couldn't help find a bit exciting.
the 2nd set was flanked by two strong performances. Kevin Conolly's opening poem was perfect, a poem that referenced a peformance situation but told it slant with a surreal twist. he had us at hello. And Darren O'Donnell framed a conversational invitation to social accupuncture with a tightly scripted monologue.
the 3rd set sent us home on a high note. I could listen to Erin Moure read in gallician for hours! and the excerpt she chose to read from the "theoretical" sections of Little Theatres was so apt, given the Big Theatre we were in, you could hear an audible "oh!" from a few places in the audience: "...The message didn't arrive. And now the audience is watching. But it's over. The play starts now: after it's over."
This was the one-two punch of the evening for me. So much to think about in Erin's reading, but then out came angela and her two colleagues, with an absolutely mind-blowing vocal orchestration of sections of wide slumber. the hysteria of those butterflies descending, the "ah" a panicked breath taken by force. the fluttering consonants and vowels. the horrors of the specimen jar. it was nothing short of brilliant. spell-binding. i've often said to my teacher colleagues, when they comment on what a good teacher angela is, that I'd lure her into the classroom if it weren't for the fact that i need her to be a poet because she's writing the poetry I want to read. and now she's performing the poetry i want to hear.
I still had angela's performance ringing in my ears when steven heighton came on, so i was a bit distracted. the richness of his poetry didn't quite carry through his reading. the message didn't arrive. was surprised by his choices from Ecstasy of Skeptics. so many poems in that volume have a livelier rhythm, even a more vivid conceptual energy that would have made good use of the big space you have at the scream. Finally, as others have also noted, Ryan Knighton was affable, his preambles
just as engaging as his work, and i mean that as a compliment to both.
so there's my take,
and you can read others here, here, here, here, and here.
posted by happenin fish at 2:17 PM
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