Robin Ince told a story onstage about a previously Laugharne Weekend that perfectly encapsulated the spirit of this mind-bending, time-bending intimate literary and arts festival. Ince was backstage with legendary spliff-meister Howard Marks when Marks said to him: "Have I been on yet?". It's a remark that seems to sum up the blurring of lines between performance and just having a good time that is the Laugharne Weekend. Then again, it could've been the result of drugs.
The emphasis in Laugharne (apart from drinking in the fancy Brown's Hotel bar) is on bookishness and poetry. Dylan Thomas lived here for a while and called it a "timeless, mild, beguiling island of a town". But when you have a festival in a tiny Welsh enclave that has the word 'laugh' in its very name there is no avoiding some comedy.
Alongside Ince, who – this man could digress for England – talks about so many different things onstage he does his absolute best to defy categorisation, this year's festivities also featured Nick Revell interviewing Jonathan Pie as well as doing a solo gig of his own and Ince, Susan Murray and Isy Suttie doing a more conventional three-way stand-up set. Sadly Stewart Lee was indisposed, although not entirely absent as Ince did a very good Lee impression. I had to leave early on the Sunday which meant I missed Ben Moor, Joanna Neary and Mark Thomas.
One of the neat things that co-organiser Richard 'no relation to Dylan' Thomas does is sell all-access wristbands rather than individual tickets for events*. This means you can wander around and pop into something you might not necessarily have paid to see in assorted churches, pubs, marquees and community halls. Highs included a remarkably dry, deadpan Linton Kwesi Johnson talking about his new collection. Time Come. Music writer Jude Rogers rolled back the years with her book about the power of pop, The Sound Of Being Human. And Helen O'Hara had some funny, insightful music biz stories about her time playing violin with Dexy's Midnight Runners. Read more about them in her memoir What's She Like.
Past Laugharnes have featured Patti Smith, Ray Davies of the Kinks, Mick Jones of The Clash, the actor Michael Sheen, the writer Caitlin Moran and comedians Harry Hill and Alexei Sayle. Another veteran of Laugharnes gone by, John Cooper Clarke, made a welcome return this year. As he walked onstage at the Millennium Hall (more like a youth club than the Millennium Dome) I worried in case a slight gust of wind from the River Taf might blow him over.
His legs were as thin as proverbial pipe cleaners, but a big hat gave him some much-needed ballast, I just hope he wasn't top heavy. His mid-set patter had something of Granada TV's The Comedians about it, but once he started to deliver those classic poems about his preference for hire cars, Beasley Street, I Wanna Be Yours (Spotify's top poem with over a billion hits) and Chickentown, made famous by the Sopranos credits, there was no stopping him. I love words and the magical way they can fit together, so of course I love John Cooper Clarke. He's a genius, pure and simple. I also caught some of Essex poet Luke Wright's set and enjoyed his poem that only featured one vowel - an a. "Shawarma. Lamb shawarma. Small lamb shawarma."
Although there was plenty of top rate comedy slotted in between the art, I have to be honest. The funniest set actually came from a musician who also has a nifty way with words. I had an inkling that Squeeze's Chris Difford would be good. A few years ago he appeared here to plug his autobiography and told some brilliant stories such as one about ending up as Bryan Ferry's chauffeur, complete with peaked cap.
Onstage in the local chapel he was supposed to be doing an acoustic solo set, but the classic songs – Cool For Cats, etc – almost played second fiddle to more anecdotes, often about life on the road, seeing support bands such as the Police and Dire Straits screech past on the road to superstardom, and hoping to be "minted" one day. Difford was as good as any raconteur I've ever come across in a set that featured lovely call backs, running gags, comedic bitterness and envy and a winning streak of deadpan self-deprecation. There's clearly a comedy career waiting for him if the musical muse ever dries up.
A particular Difford diamond was his tale of going backstage at Top of the Pops with Jools Holland hoping to charm Pan's People with a packet of fags, only to discover that another sexier, shinier pop star had got there first. You'll have to buy a ticket to see him yourself if you want to find out who he means.
Every year after everyone has recovered from having so much fun there is a vote for act of the festival. Others will have their own favourites. I know there was a lot of love for musician Angeline Morrison and vocal veteran PP Arnold. The result has just been announced. Needless to say it was Chris Difford. Which isn't just cool for cats, it's cool for Laugharne.
The next Laugharne Weekend will be next March. Probably. Keep an eye out here. *And by the way, numbers are limited and it always sells out, so bag your tickets (and accommodation) as soon as possible.
Watch Chris Difford doing Cool for Cats below (with some help from the audience)
Pictured. Robin Ince (top), John Cooper Clarke (middle), Chris Difford (bottom). ©Brucedessau
