It’s my 20th wedding anniversary today. But this is about something else, kind of.
In 2013, our favourite landlady Karen asked if me and Sparky would play on the 27th December. She was quite open that it was the quietest night of any year, falling not only in the gooch between holidays, but also that year being a Friday. By hostelry-logic that meant that there had been an effective six-day weekend around Christmas and even those who were still standing were probably out of pennies for the pub. If you were gonna book a turn, the attraction-to-cost ratio was tipped very firmly in favour of “limited appeal at no real cost”.
I’d fallen in love with an occasional live show called Wesley Stace’s Cabinet of Wonders. Hosted by the titular polymath artist, each event combined star performers from his Rolodex (wiki it, kids) to sing, read and share the stage for a couple of hours. You booked to come, safe in the knowledge that the show would be fun, regardless of who showed up.
Back then, Sparky and I had been in the same band for 17 years, but our contact lists were pretty much just other members of our band, most of whom were related to Sparky by birth.
The plan was simple: if we could recruit friends who could sing but didn’t, we could back them live. They would bring friends to watch them. The pub would fill. It was genius. On paper.
Fast-forward to tonight. Over the last ten years we’ve played the same date nine times (you know why we skipped a year). There have been something like 32 performers who have shared the night with us. That looks like a low average, but there are many who have become returning-Stars. Depending on their experience of live performance, we thank them for their courage or their time and sometimes both.
You will have your own highlights, maybe. Many of mine have been in rehearsals with folks, at their dining table, or in our secret rehearsal space (yes, we rehearse). Often it’s the reaction of family members, banished to another room, who can’t help but clap at the end of a first run-through of a song.
One particular flash of delight/pride/ridiculousness was the moment, as our six-time Star Martin ended his reprise of all five of the songs he’d performed up to then, he was met with “Nice set, Chief”. A set. Between us we had created a set. How lovely.
My playing has continued to be the limiting factor, but, like cigar-rolling, it seems it’s a skill that continues to improve infinitely, if glacially.
But my most striking memory came a little while after the performance. Without wanting to mawk (is that a word?), we miss Loughborough’s own occasional Roman centurion Glenn Hopkins at this time of year. Glenn came to anything live, even our shows. He once shared vocals on a Cato version of “Ever Fallen In Love”, to the delight of Iris, his mother who was moshing at the time. That was in The Nuns, too. Glenn performed one of a handful of poetry readings that were a part of early Cabarets. We never play too loud, and Glenn’s voice was probably drowned out by the drinkers we’d managed to attract. But, on the recording we made from that night, it is clear and gentle and bright and full of the delight that I hope he got from being on the other side of the microphone. The clip has been on our SoundCloud since then. I sent the link to his sister in the weeks after his sudden passing a year or so after this show. If you’re in the mood, you can listen here and raise a glass to him. A beautiful, daft man and we are honoured to have been part of his scene.
https://on.soundcloud.com/Pie3Nsx6nUmqmuGN8
There are too many Stars to list (and I haven’t written them down). But it’s been a pleasure to be part of their performances. Even when we weren’t part of them.
This year has been a bit frantic and we haven’t been able to rehearse much, let alone to recruit stars, but that Rolodex has got fatter. Thanks to the community at the Three Nuns, the amazing team at The Cask Bah, and the Wheeltapper and White Hart and Needle & Pin (all of whom are keeping live performance going in Loughborough), we find ourselves surrounded by talent and we are delighted that some of it will be here tonight, at The Tenth Annual Fatzorro & Sparky’s Winter Cabaret.
Thank you to all of our Winter Cabaret Stars, the team at The Three Nuns, and to you for coming out on what is often also a most inhospitable night of the year. Thank you to the Missus’ Fatzorro & Sparky, both of whom are keen that we keep this up to stay out from under their feet.
We still don’t pretend that we are anything other than what we are: incredibly lucky to be doing our hobbies in places that’ll have us.
Happy Winter Cabaret Day
ps people ask what charity the event supports. It doesn’t – it’s designed to support a pub and the people who keep it going so we can do this more. We play lots for other people and sometimes that’s for their charity and everyone we know has a charity that they’re attached to. So: if you’re so inclined, please give money to your charity as a way of saying thanks to the pub for a good night out, and for making it through another year. If you’re inclined, but don’t have a particular charity, then please stick wads of cash into The Bridge (East Midlands). I wish they didn’t exist but I’m glad they do. Peace.
Try not to lick it 