John Cooper Clark is out and about in Ireland again, this time taking in five nights and kicking things off at Dublin’s 3Olympia.
“I wanna be your vacuum cleaner
Breathing in your dust
I wanna be your Ford Cortina
I will never rust
If you like your coffee hot
Let me be your coffee pot”
Sounds familiar? Arctic Monkeys right ? Wrong!
Alex Turner probably takes most of his inspiration from this absolute legend hailing from Lancashire, England. And you can evidently hear it in how he holds himself, how he speaks, and just how damn rock and roll Clark is.
How would you describe your poetry to a non English speaking crowd?
Imagine the titanic with a lisp …
“Unthinkable” says he.
He left the crowd in stitches as he worked through the coughs and the frog in his throat. Well you can imagine, with the amount of words plummeting from the tip of his tongue.
I can imagine Clarkes eyes behind those rouge tinted glasses like a slot machine with one of those levers on the side and when you pull it, it’s just a spinning storm of words rolling in his eyes like a window showing how his brain actually works.
Has anyone even seen JCC’s eyes ? Do we know he has some?
Or is he as good at reading poetry, blind,
as Stevie wonder is at reading music.
Poetry is rock and roll, as he grabs the mic and shimmy’s like Elvis holding a book of pages commenting on the world.
“This one is written in the same tune as the last one… for your ease of convenience” right before he rolls into a chain of wordings like a salesman at an auction but he’s selling life, he’s selling moments, he’s selling poetry.
“If you’re in the poetry business , idleness is your friend.” Says he to the crowd.
An absolute honor to photograph and an Incredible opportunity to see a living legend at the top of his game.
Kicking off with Jan Brierton reading us memories and muses from her little book, “What day is it?” Speaking of funny moments from lockdown and heart ache.
We were then greeted by Mike Garry, the infamous Poet, Librarian, Mancunian, Father, Husband, Uncle, and Brother. Singing us some tunes and telling us tales of his son leaving the main land and moving to the isle of white, sorry I mean, New Zealand.
Speaking of his city, his mammy and how good of a salesman he is as he scatters his books across the floor so you can contemplate purchasing them after the show.
A night full of language, love and tales from the past. With plenty of humour thrown in for good measure.
What a night, what a show, what a city.
Jan Brierton & Mike Garry photos:
John Cooper Clark photos:
Photos & words – Carl Foran