Sing For Your Supper

I first knew Archie as the main man in the Commie Faggots - a brilliant band name even if it has caused problems publicising his gigs on facebukkake. You'll read here how Sing For Your Supper engenders a sense of community - family even - and indeed Archie and I went on to perform together at a whole range of events; and we have supported each other's endeavours over the years. Here's Archie in his own words on 'S4YS':

SAYS was basically where I cut my teeth as a performer. It wasn’t my very first open mic - that was the Half Moon at Herne Hill hosted by another legend of the South London open mic scene - Len Hovis. It was at the Half Moon that I met Carl who invited me along to an open mic he was starting. I went along probably the next week and was very nervous about performing but Carl made me feel right at home. He made every performer feel cared about and gave equal attention to everyone whether they were amazing or shite. He also made sure all the audience respected the performers so no one would talk through people’s sets. I guess because of this people kept coming back – including me - I probably went to at least half of them for a couple of years and still pop in when I can now. There was a real family vibe to the night. And it’s where I met friends I still see to this day, including Ant. Carl created something really special with Sing For Your Supper - someone give him a medal!

And please Do visit the Commie Faggots at their own website: https://www.commiefaggots.com/

Hilary quickly became a regular and regarded perfomer at S4YS nights - I most often saw her at the Bread & Roses. She is a rare performer in the London scene, as she will often turn out to support others even when she is not performing herself! Here's Hilary in her own words on 'S4YS':

As we all know, Carl is a man of generous spirit and one that has our backs. At all times but especially at open mics. I remember my first S4YS at the legendary Queen's Head in Brixton. I walked in to the second venue I'd ever been to perform, looked at the pub, looked at the clientelle and promptly burst into tears. Carl gave me a massive hug and a kiss on the hair and then told me to 'Get on that fucking stage'. I did and it felt awesome.

At every S4YS and other open mics he has run, I've felt important and as good as anyone else performing. I like how Carl does my call and return gag at the end, each time like the first time he's heard it. There was also the time at Balham when the meal was too hot for my delicate tastebuds, so he nipped out and brought me a cornetto.

I'm unsure as to exactly when I first met Panama Dave. He's one of those people that just make sense. I mean, it makes sense that you know him as soon as you do; he's a rightful sort of a fella. Quietly spoken (and isn't that always THE most positive human attribute?) except for when on-stage; whence he is silent as a monk - for his guitar does all the talking that's a needed. He really is a virtuoso. Makes me glad that I never really took up guitar (except to learn working class hero) for if I had I would surely have to hate him. He's just that good. Here he is in his own words:

I first met Carl Chamberlain at a random open mic night in Borough, in April 2010, and at his invitation attended one of the last S4YS sessions at the NineBar a few days later. Since then I have played 366 gigs with Carl, the vast majority of them being S4YS gigs. Carl was also pivotal in nearly all of the gigs I arranged, providing personal support and his legendary MC skills at Open Mics at the Cricklewood Windmill and Sunday Showcases at the Magic Garden.

S4YS seemed to work almost anywhere (Lambeth North, Nunhead, Brixton, Elephant & Castle, Balham, London Bridge, Clapham), as long as it was south of the river (the one exception being the Imperial at Leicester Square) and the establishment was prepared to feed us minstrels. But it found its true home at the Magic Garden in Battersea, where it ran weekly for three years. Carl was masterful at drawing the room's attention to the performers, and for those of us who played there, it became very much like a family, with all of us kids playing with our favourite toys, alone and together. Some memorable jams and collaborations occurred on his stage. Bands were probably born there.

My last gig was on the 3rd of March at the Magic Garden. I've seen Carl once since then, but no-one else, and his gigs are what I miss most about normal life. I look forward to the day we can all safely meet again there.

You definitely want to find out more about dave, so CHECK OUT HIS WEBSITE at https://www.panamadaveparrett.com

Pat is a stalwart, an absolute rock. Stuffed full of wisdom and experience but with a little of the devil may care about her. Here she is in her own words:

I first met Carl at The Queen’s Head Brixton. Very new to Open Mic. His encouragement lead me onwards from doing covers to eventually writing my own songs. Many happy memories. I had changed my boots to some Italian leather ones. When I got back to my seat the bag with my walking boots was gone. We both laughed uncontrollably about the shock the thief would get when they relised what they had nicked. Two weeks later he gave me a pair of walking boots to replace mine. We giggled about unknown foot fetishists.

The Bread and Roses next Venue up. Lovely night too .Carl also hosted The Cool Calm Collective there too. Often for a while we were the mainstay of this venue but it gave us time to converse so that was Ok as well. Then I was at Carl's first ever Magic Garden Open Mic. Blown away again by Carl’s fun but professional management. It was at this venue my first album was conceived over tequila shots with Shaun Buswell one Christmas. Arrangements were made. Then the inevitable Patti gets the flight times wrong. Half of London was looking for me. Knowing I wouldn’t miss it. Ant Smith and Christine coordinating the search. Where was I, in my kitchen drinking coffee. I wanted to crawl under a rock I had missed the flight, a videographer and Shaun went ahead anyway. He laughed so hard at my Spinal Tap behavior. We rescheduled. None of it would have happened if it wasn’t for Carl organizing the open mic. He’s always understanding of my disorganization getting lost due to my Dyslexia. Once at the bandstand gig at the little black cat café I was yet again late. I duly explained I got lost, natch he responded expected but not that important, Thanks Carl for all you have enabled me to achieve.

Find out more about Pat, and buy her album, on her WEBSITE at https://pattipaigesongwriter.wixsite.com/home

This is Christine, my wife, playing up for the camera; just one of many reasons why I love her. Another such reason is that she gives the best audience, as she elaborates here:

Even before I attended a night, I knew ’Sing For Your Supper’ was something special. The idea of providing performers (and occasionally their groupies 😉) with a meal to thank them for supporting the night is such a sweet concept. I am not a performer, I’ve tried but I’m not particularly talented and I don’t really enjoy performing so it’s really not for me. I do enjoy watching other performers though and I can say with some confidence that I give good audience. Carl marvellously labelled me as a conscientious observer! And I hope I have been pretty conscientious. Even if it means double crossing my legs, I try not to leave halfway through a performance and I shut the fuck up when someone is on the stage.

One of the best things about the S4YS nights though is how nurturing they are. Carl and Sarah-Jane have established a supportive environment where I’ve seen many performers evolve and flourish. Patti Paige, Hilary Bennett and Bryan ’Beadyman’ Wilson have all developed into first-rate ’turns’ and Carl has revealed himself to be a beautiful singer with Sarah-Jane’s gentle encouragement and expert tuition.

It was also possibly the only time I’ve ever seen Ant genuinely nervous. To set the scene, S4YS nights were rarely hived off into a back room where performers were privately performing to other sympathetic performers. No, these were held in the main rooms of pubs so you were not guaranteed safe passage. Ant, in his wisdom, decided that the premiere of his poem 'Shorty' should be at a S4YS night in the main bar at The Bread and Roses pub in Clapham. It’s a poem in which Ant opens up about his penis size anxiety and I think he genuinely believed that the audience would eat him alive. It was the complete opposite reaction, the audience loved the poem and Ant for having ’the balls to admit to it’. This led to a fair bit of fame for Ant and also gave me the opportunity to tell Wayne Sleep about my sex life without being arrested. Win-Win.

At the time of writing, we’re currently arse-deep in the middle of the COVID-crisis so open mics are few and far between. I don’t even live in London now - the home of S4YS - but writing this makes me yearn for those gigs - even the ones at the legendary Queen’s Head which I maintain was a God-forsaken shithole although I know that Carl, Ant, Sarah-Jane and many other people are much more dewy-eyed and romantic in their reminiscences.

I was quite excited about the bread and Roses at first - being a union pub it felt like I could drink AND support the popular front; it seemed to make drinking worthy.

And there was a lot to be excited about - the front room had an actual stage with PA and quite an interesting background for the photography. They painted over the backdrop eventually, but that was fine as it meant the photos wouldn't end up being too samey.

Some nights we would be relugated to the back room - which I don't think Carl ever really liked but I felt it gave the nights a much more intimate feel; so either option worked well for me.

Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes—

Hearts starve as well as bodies: Give us Bread, but give us Roses.

James Oppenheim, 1911

It was weird though how it was always a much quieter night than other S4YS ventures. There were almost always just enough people for it to be worth running a list - and it did get busy at times; but nothing like The Magic Garden (say) with its 30+ often on the list. I never understood why it wasn't more popular. But at least it meant one could always get a decent turn and it was a fine opportunity to catch up with friends.There was usually even time to chat with Carl - who on other nights was super busy every moment.

We hosted my 20th Anniversary of being a performance poet there - which was a busy night; an excellent night - with the other acts all including a cover version of one of my poems. Soon (honest) I'll create a page about that night...

Our contribution to We Shall Overcome happened at The Bread as well - this one was driven through by Sarah-Jane who did an absolutley top-notch job of it; despite some difficulties the venue visited up on us...

...and in fact venue difficulties were a constant factor. I thought it was great that this was a union pub. But actually at the end of the day that meant that it was run by employees who were essentially disinterested in the cultural life that a pub represents. From my perspective, the management had no care for the community; it didn't matter to them that people were travelling from far and wide for S4YS and they thought nothing of disrupting or cancelling the night at the drop of a hat.

But STILL, great and important things happened there and I have nothing but fond memories of attending.

I think Carl may have ran nights here before I knew him (we met late 2009, according to the photographic evidence) - but I only found myself here on a couple of occassions. S4YS's 4th birthday was one of them, at least.

Situated on Tanner Street in Bermondsey, apparently. The very first S4YS night I performed at. Carl did a live web-cast and I believe Christine was able to watch it from home. Which was all terribly exciting back then!

I don't think I went to this one more than just the once.

It had an emptiness about it the day I visited - the kind of emptiness that could be filled with ghosts if ghosts were real and they had nothing better to do. I think I presumed it was due for demolition and we were the last few souls to grace its floors.

I think there were more tables than chairs - like the last legs for venues are always the table legs. The chairs being easy prey are picked off at the first smell of decay in a joint.

I have no idea who else performed - clearly some did for you can see the photographic evidence here. It was a summer's evening in 2010 - I can barely believe I found the joint; we didn't have your google maps and iPhones back then you know. I used to print a map off at work before setting out to find a gig - but those maps were rubbish! They always seemed to miss out just the most strategically important street names. My tactic was to go to the nearest tube station and then walk in an ever increasing spiral until I found the venue or else gave up and travelled home. Whether I made it to a planned gig or not was pure fortune. Or misfortune, depending on your point of view.

In this case I'ms sticking with fortune.

It was a good gig, even though I can't remember the set list. All I do clearly remember was smoking cigarettes with Carl, whom I decided would be my buddy. It was still a pretty new city to me, and I decided a man needs buddies - they tell you that. So I declared Carl would be my buddy and I did my best to support him, and S4YS, thereafter.

The Old Nun's Head was one of the more awkward S4YS venues for me to get to. It was a classic Type II venue. Yes that's right, there are two types of venue. Those with a performance area in and amidst the main hullabaloo (The Type I's) - and those with a segregation of the poets and poet lovers from the, let's call them 'others'; you know, a basement, or an attic.

The Old Nun's Head gave us an attic.

It was lovely. And intimate. Intimate enough that those in the audience waiting for a turn would get suckered into actually listening to whoever was currently on stage. There are various open-mic crimes, such as signing up then buggering off elsewhere but for your own 10 minute slot. The busier (and on the face of it more successful) nights suffered such way more than the 'intimate' gigs. And there was never much of that at the Olde Nun's Head...

I remember turning up here to perform on the day my mother died. I suppose I had always hoped for such a day, but I was grown up now. I was supposed to understand things better and to have them in perspective. Her passing was supposed to be a gentle sigh ; an 'ah well then' moment. It wasn't supposed to mean anything to me.

But I guess it must have done, for I did make some reference to it. And I was a little, distracted in my mind.

I think I gave good poetry. Stage me of course isn't me. Yet it is. I am The GameCat (say my name) - but The GameCat is much more honest than I can ever be. Particularly in these quiet, intimate spaces.

I also remember that night when Dan performed atop of the tables.

Anarchy.

Is possibly too kind a word.

I think my first experience of this joint was attending Dennis Just Dennis's Queen's Speach open-mic, and I thought "Wow, a pub with an inside smoking room".

It seemed a little illicit to climb the backstairs to the attic in order to smoke and perform.

But really, smoking indoors was the least of it.

To this day I have no idea how that place kept its licence.

Or how I never died.

But I didn't. It was a most chaotic oasis in a sea of calm. Except there was no sea of calm. We were all slightly insane then.

I remember being a little concerned that the very elegant and sartorial black man sat reading stage right with his crucifix gleaming in the bar lights, would not take too kindly to the nature of my words. I didn't know then just what The Queen's Head was, nor that he and I would continue a long and fine friendship... I'm glad he survived those days.

I'm glad we all did.

Although I just don't know how.