About this Event

Cheap Tix available til 6pm tonight: https://www.skiddle.com/whats-on/Bath/The-Nest/Luke-De-Sciscio--Friends/13080300/



James Denley - a typhoon of a man, his power hath crept across the Earth beaming joys and music for which do souls surrender ...himself the vision of animalism, shamanistic inexplicability - sirens weep, lions cower...a voice to echo the comedy of ages, the Jester of Revelry...my very good friend.



And - Yes... some sirens do weep - others howl, others still take a Bic and narrate your soul...winsome, wise and fluid - choral, clandestine and crystalline in visions of verncaular vividity: you hate Hospitals - you want Mother's love : find peace in halls of reverb, set fires in oceans ephemeral - Emily Isherwood: thank you for gracing us this night, they are ready... Emily Isherwood.



Jim.



Jim Blackmann is a whisper. He is a shoulder. He is the eye in a storm and a 4 leaf clover. He is the peninsula in a rough tide, the singular white cloud and the lyric you wish you'd written. He is the wisdom, he is the grace, he is the brail your fingers unpick on the handle just before you open the door. The silver to your lining, the meaning behind your tattoo...a poet, a brilliant fucking poet…and a whisper. Jim Blackmann.



Gareth. Gareth "BRACE YOUR FUCKING BRITCHES" Evans...



He's my friend. He's the dude who when you say 'I wanna be a singer' in the back of your mind you go...'but yeah, THAT guy is just...' and he is...he is something else. Gaz won't play for you. He will play you. And I'm pretty sure, half to ...most of the time...he doesn't even know he's doing it. Music that is just REALLY REALLY REALLY...REALLY REAL. The voice. The soul. THE Gaz.



The elusive, the enigma, the once-in-a-lifetime, The soul that is, That song you love, That heart… You're welcome. …its Gaz.



...now who? ...this is shaping up right?



How about The Timeless Man? How about The Dude? How about the guy that just is and always would have been, irrespective of context, irrespective of whether it's fucking Egypt in 500BC, or he was born a tree...yeh how about HIM. Lawrie 'Nail down your wife' Duckworth... the satirist, the Devil's accomplice...come Devil's rival ...come beat the Devil into the frickin' ground with a cool and a wit sharper than the tongue of the snake that Jim Morrison rode to the edge of reality only to be kicked in the nuts by Lawrie Duckworth for not meeting his own INFALLIBLE expectation of cool. Yeh...HIM. You will laugh or you will reveal yourself a cyborg… you will …question certain things...



I'm getting sweaty...I need to cool down...



excuse me whilst I grab a cold glass of water and ...reach for something... smooth...



If purple was a sound - if satin had a melody - if a heron was perched on your window sill right now and you looked it in those eyes and said 'Hey, Heron...wassup?' ...you'd be insane.



Seek confirmation of your sanity, seek to see Harry Miller...on November 29th ...because soon you'll be saying: 'Oh shit, Luke WAS right, this kid IS THE SHIT!' ...and you'll be saying it to a heron...because a) their notorious levels of smooth might console your missing out and b) you're still insane...



Harry Miller is The Kid. If The Dude wasn't already The Dude then Harry might be The Dude...but for now: one dude, one Harry ...and you: listening, between - in awe, "Oh my god, ain't he just the cutest" and "THAT voice though." It's The Kid. Smooth …as a button.



We continue... with a role-play:



"Hi, yeah, I learnt to play guitar" :)

- Are you Arthur Cunnington?

"No, I'm not, I just like to pl..."

stop talking.

"I like to play guit..."

shh.



Arthur learnt to play guitar. …but...

Arthur hails from a reality in which hands don't abide physical reality.

Arthur hails from a reality in which Hendrix was a skinny white kid in a Fedora...

the truth though: Hendrix did sometimes wear a Fedora…and soon, you too, will be adding Fedora to your Christmas list in the vague hope of, just once, being as at one with something, anything, as Arthur is with his guitar.

He can play...

And he sings. Like a wolf. Like a lone wolf. Like a lone wolf on its loneliest day of living.

Like the spine in your back was put their merely to be played like the ivory xylophone it is...



Hark this night for afoot your colossus we stand a tremble below the cloud that says 'Heaven' and a thunder that says 'Brother.'



*writes 'Dear Santa' and 'Fedora'*



November 29th at The Nest will be a fantastic night.



Bring yourself, bring your soul, bring your smile and bring your childish expectation of something bigger than the some of its parts…WE ARE GOING TO HAVE THE BEST NIGHT OF MUSIC AND YOU WILL HAVE BEEN THERE.



___________________________________________________



£3.50 ADV

£5.00 OTD



£10.00 A2 poster available on night.



All proceeds going to performers and Deano Mctaggart, poster artist (available for hire) insta: https://www.instagram.com/deanomctaggart.art/