At last night’s Book Slam the performers were much better than I expected.
I love Book Slam.
Through 2007 and 2008 I’ve seen Will Self, Toby Litt, William Boyd, Roger Robinson, Irvine Welsh, a varied selection of entertaining writers, poets, rappers and musicians.
Hanif Kureishi was much hipper and funnier than I thought he would be, reading from The Buddha of Suburbia and from his new novel Something To Tell You. Kureishi joked about the chief exec of the RBS and his astronomical pension of £650,000 a year. He was endearingly droll. He said, “I’d have destroyed capitalism for half of that.”
Lively, lovely Gemma Weekes read from her acclaimed Love Me novel and did some nice sharp poems.
And Bridgette Amofah, backed by three white boys on guitar, bass and drums, has a voice that’s dramatic, compelling, fascinating. I was thinking Helen Shapiro while others were thinking Amy Winehouse. I remembered discovering Annie Lennox at a lunchtime gig at the LSE. Her group The Catch became the Tourists became Eurythmics. It wasn’t easy, even for somebody as talented as Annie. It’s not easy for Bridgette. You have to get the formula exactly right AND have a big hit.
I already want to see Bridgette again and I saw her ten hours ago. She needs slightly stronger songs, of course. But all singers needed slightly stronger songs. Name me one who doesn’t. But these songs are good enough for now. And her voice records so beautifully. Record producers love working with voices like that. It’s what they live for.
Book Slam was busy. But Ladbroke Grove wasn’t busy, the 52 bus wasn’t busy, the walk home from Willesden bus garage wasn’t. I’ve seen recession nights before.