
written and performed by
Luke Wright
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Cynical Ballads, perhaps more than Luke Wright’s previous shows, puts the onus on form.
Wright, a performance poet, Radio 4 regular and founder of poetry collective Aisle 16, uses his new show to tell a series of contemporary stories through the medium of balladry (we're talking narrative verse, not power chords).
Taking his audience through the history of the ballad, Wright presents seven new poems, each focusing on recognisable characters from 21st century British life.
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Providing a brief revision session on the uses of meter as he goes, these ‘caustic tales of broken Britain’ are mordant, spiky and often surprisingly bleak in outlook. Wright (mostly) resists easy quips and stereotypes, to create witty yet unsettling portraits. There’s the rise and fall of the Boris-alike politician Dudley Livingstone (“Dear Dud had mastered anti-spin: the more he looked confused/the more he could be prejudiced and always be excused.”), the cautionary ballad of Fat Josh and the - only comparatively - light-hearted exploits of a pair of champagne guzzling ‘Extreme SKI-ers.’ Each archetype is built upon, shaded and sculpted, their story fleshed out and extended.
The ballads are back-dropped by Sam Ratcliffe’s appropriately grotesque and occasionally Quentin Blake-esque illustrations. This syncing of words and images is nicely timed and it serves to bolster the narrative-driven nature of the verse. The balance between the ballads and the in-between bits, the banter, the stand up, has shifted somewhat from Wright’s previous shows; there’s less chat, and when he does pause, it is to provide context and intention or to explain the poetic form’s evolution from broadside ballads, the newspapers of their day, through to the age of the parlour song.
Wright demonstrates once again that he’s as able a performer as he is a writer. He’s at ease with an audience and his confident, driving delivery gives shape to these stories while bringing out the sting and wit of the words. There aren’t that many out-and-out laughs to be had - though certain individual lines are incredibly funny - instead the humour is subtler and darker in tone, slow burning and shot through with startling imagery. Wright can encapsulate a character with one carefully honed and striking phrase and is unafraid of letting his anger at social injustice and inbalance bleed through into his work.
The most successful poem is also the most poignant; inspired by a painted-out chip shop sign in Norwich, Wright tells a tale of love’s flaring and fading. It’s a moving and mature piece of writing, full of emotional nuance, and one that proves the show’s title to be something of a misnomer. There’s cynicism here all right, a sense of bleakness and evident frustration, but there’s beauty and hope too.
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