I was going to perform at Prismatic tomorrow, but I don’t dare. There have been relatively few things ever that I’ve not dared do, so this got me thinking about why that is. I suppose the first thing is that it’s something quite far away from anything I usually do. I’ve only ever been to one spoken word night in my life. It was at a bar my friend worked at, and I didn’t know it was on when I went. I don’t think a lot of the other people there did, either, as they were talking over the performers, who were mainly quite dramatic, and made me cringe a bit. I don’t think Prismatic will be anything like that. The previous events, at Hyde Park Book Club, seem to have been attended mostly by people who wanted to listen to the speakers, and enjoy some ambient music and visuals (the random night in the bar had neither tunes, nor any projections). I couldn’t make it to either of those, but I’ve watched the video of the first event, and the performers speak well and plainly, without theatrics or pretension. But I still feel like I need to actually go to one of these events before I put myself forward to be part of one. I suppose, otherwise, it would be a bit like DJing in your bedroom for years, and then playing a gig without ever having been to a party. Not that I have been performing spoken word on my own at home for years. Or ever, in fact. But I do write.
That has led me on to my second point, and probably the biggest reason why I am reticent to stand in front of people and read a piece of my own verse… There is no screen, or barrier. No suit of armour as it were. I write short stories and poetry and publish them on a blog that does not have my name anywhere. There’s a degree of separation there. This blog is different. It’s matter of fact, rather than my soul. Singing something you’ve written yourself is different, too. Again, the music gives it a degree of separation. DJing, dancing, acting in a play or a short film; again, your self is removed from the performance by degrees.
When I was very young, I went to the funeral of someone I had never met. One of my teachers asked me to read a poem for him as he was too upset to stand up and read it himself. He said he wanted me to do it because I was the best public speaker he’d ever heard. Which leads me to think that he probably hadn’t heard too many public speakers, although I was in a lot of plays, and got asked a lot to do readings and stuff at school. Also, before you question this, he wasn’t any kind of creep. Anyway, I had no qualms about doing this; in fact I never even thought anything about it until a few years later when I mentioned it to a friend, and they told me it was really weird.
Reading someone else’s poem, at a stranger’s funeral, is, again, completely different.
I do actually hope that I will have the balls to get up and speak at one of these events one day, but for this one – which is tomorrow night from 7 at The Imaginarium – I’m just going along as a punter, to enjoy what other people are going to say. I also have great admiration for them for doing it.
The event is organised by my pal Joe, and there’s an open call for performers until the day. So if you’re a little braver than me and you write, or if you do spoken word stuff anyway and you’d not known about this event, contact him through the Prismatic Instagram.
Also, if you’re interested in finding out more on what this is about, have a read of the interview I did with Joe for DIY Leeds and check out the video below…
