May 6, 2008
A poetry slam night is as a rule, never dull, and tonight’s Hammer and Tongue poetry slam final was no exception. What sets a poetry slam apart from any other night of performance poetry is the variety of its poet-performers and the fact that it’s a competition judged by audience members chosen at random at the beginning of the night. The judges were duly given their folder of score cards and a summary of the basics - judge the poem, not the performer and his/her good looks/fashion sense etc; judge quickly and emotionally (this is not an academic exercise); don’t be too harsh with your scores (as everyone will hate you!) but don’t get overly carried away and award the perfect ten to anything other than the absolute best: ‘it’s like love; you’ll know when it happens.’ - Nice!
The evening was hosted, or mc-ed, by the capable and entertaining Steve Larkin and Sophia Blackwell, whose down-to-earth approach nips any flowery poetic pretentions well in the bud: this is performance poetry, warts and all, not pretty ideas or gushing love poems. Their nonchalance belied the skill it must take to work the crowd so that it remains switched on and receptive for every competitor. Each performer had three minutes to do their thing, and brief musical interludes – the likes of Teenage Kicks, and Rock the Casbah – refreshed the audience’s mental palate between the eight finalists.
The finalists themselves didn’t disappoint: there was variety in approach, in theme, and in tone. There were poems with funny moments and others with angry moments (Julia, I dare you next time to name that ex-friend!), diabtribes against the ills of our society, performances which demanded some audience participation, poems which shocked or surprised, poems which juxtaposed the ordinary with the fantastical, or the sublime with the ridiculous and poems which told stories and others which built up images and emotions. It was varied and stimulating evening of ideas, passion and personality, and while all finalists are winners, the winner of the final was Bohdan Piasecki, whose intense delivery and ability to express what many people struggle to put into words won the audience over.
The evening was hosted, or mc-ed, by the capable and entertaining Steve Larkin and Sophia Blackwell, whose down-to-earth approach nips any flowery poetic pretentions well in the bud: this is performance poetry, warts and all, not pretty ideas or gushing love poems. Their nonchalance belied the skill it must take to work the crowd so that it remains switched on and receptive for every competitor. Each performer had three minutes to do their thing, and brief musical interludes – the likes of Teenage Kicks, and Rock the Casbah – refreshed the audience’s mental palate between the eight finalists.
The finalists themselves didn’t disappoint: there was variety in approach, in theme, and in tone. There were poems with funny moments and others with angry moments (Julia, I dare you next time to name that ex-friend!), diabtribes against the ills of our society, performances which demanded some audience participation, poems which shocked or surprised, poems which juxtaposed the ordinary with the fantastical, or the sublime with the ridiculous and poems which told stories and others which built up images and emotions. It was varied and stimulating evening of ideas, passion and personality, and while all finalists are winners, the winner of the final was Bohdan Piasecki, whose intense delivery and ability to express what many people struggle to put into words won the audience over.