open mike swipe

open mike swipe (no offence meant to anyone - words in [brackets] indicate words I can't make my mind up on...still...written back in 2006)


I used to do an open mike..

A hundred miles from here,

And There were only 2 good reasons to go,

to take the stage, and for the beer.



Cause the acts they had still WORE their moulds,

Uninformed formulaic inpirations had infected them like colds.

I got away, and I say today, in post-nostalgic cheer,

There's [absolutely] nothing at all like that here.



There was the teenage chappie, who'd gonnan got a guitar,

And yes, he actually could play,

But he never could just smile and take the floor,

and try to brighten up anyones day.

No-one cared that his life was a desolate road,

Or his hamsters hi-tailed it to Harlow.

The last thing that that boozer needed was another gary barlow.



So its good to be here now, amongst such acts of sheer class.

If the music ached like it did there, I'd be out of this place fast.

The witch-like divine voices, with their charms, black hair, pale face.

But again, the angel sopranos' sang tragic songs of dark disgrace.



I mean you're in England, You're in Reading, Down the pub, Hell You're on stage

Yet all we hears your fears, your sorrow,frustrated anger and your rage.

You could be one of many millions who just haven't half our luck,

But you whinge like a maudlin [wounded] seraphim, trying to find a lesbian[girl] half your age



But theres no-one like that here, maybe cos Goths been and gone,

And now girls like to exercise stead of sticking black and make-up on.

The enchanted angelic vocal here just sings of smiles and beauty pure

And makes the mundane glow, makes the usual obscure,

As a thrill-seeker I'm ashamed I haven't found this place before.



And the song-writing here, so varied, well thought out, and yet so cool,

Not sure how long I can stand here spouting verses like a fool.

A song about morbid loneliness, such deep-seated philosophy-

And done in just three chords a as well, dminor a and e.

Its new and its exciting, not dull flaccid or tired.

And to follow with house of the rising sun, how clever, how inspired!



Instead of the tosh they used to spout,

which we'd all heard so many times before.

One guesses every tiny thing they did,

must have felt like such a chore.

It got me down tho in the end,

It was as if I'd caught the flu.

Once a week for half a year,

desperate inspiration takes control of you

But this is like nirvana, herein lies my zen,

Happiness in music, performed by angels and great men.