The Duchess is a medium sized, smoky, dimly lit, friendly pub in the centre of Leeds. It has a good stage and holds a couple of hundred people, maybe a few more. It was packed solid for this gig, the busiest I've ever seen it. There was quite a wide age range, and all different kinds of people - some with body piercing and tattoos, others with creases down the front of their jeans and a Marks & Spencers woolly pully. An oddly assorted bunch then, but all brought harmoniously together by a proper respect for this extremely funny bloke.
The stage was bare apart from a single microphone and stand, and JCC ambled in through a side door, as if popping in for a drink with a few mates. He walked on stage to a friendly cheer from the crowd, carrying a plastic carrier bag containing just a notebook and his fags - er, sorry, that's cigarettes for the benefit of Americans ;-) (!). Wow, minimalist.
Though billed as a punk poet, I tend to think of him more as a stand up comic. Maybe the emphasis has changed over the years; I saw him for the first time only a couple of years ago so I wouldn't know. His poems, though sharp, observant and clever, are delivered so rapid fire as to fly right over your head unless you've either heard or read them before. They're worth the effort of paying attention to properly though.
It's interesting to see you've got a lot of his jokes on the web site. They are all good, but much of the effect comes from the way he tells them. He has a lovely "bloke in a pub" conversational style when telling funny stories which carries the audience along with him. Some of his most amusing asides are not jokes as such at all, just witty observations. He opened with a really funny routine about not judging people by appearances: "Why not? You can't know everybody. You've got eyes, use them. They'll tell you a lot. Look at Hitler..."
He was on stage for an amazing two hours. At no time did he look in any danger of drying up, and he kept the audience's full attention throughout. By the end of the evening the tears of laughter had run so freely down my face for so long that I'm all wrinkly now.
Johnny Clarke eh. What a guy.
Chris Nuza
And here's another review of the same gig...
The Duchess of York, Leeds. Coincidentally, the same venue as the last time I saw John Cooper Clarke perform. Probably fiteen years ago. The audience had changed. Older, warmer, better behaved.
So had Johnny Clarke. What a change - he looked so, well... well. The man once described as having the look of a compulsive blood donor was in fine form.
Old favourites - Health Fanatic, Twat, I married a monster; and several pieces new to me - including Hire Car & Martin Newell, were delivered at customary high speed to an appreciative capacity crowd.
The lenghty supporting banter, in which all humanity outside Salford got a good panning, in particular those from Germany, Japan and Burnley, went down a storm.
Two hours, twenty ciggies and five pints of Tetleys later, he was off. Leaving us all shouting for more.
Tony
(Tony was also decent enough to send some photos in from the gig which are now in the Pic Arcive).