Alongside all this musical wizardry you'll hear the incredible work of Faber New Poets Sam Riviere and Heather Phillipson (recently featured in the Clinic Anthology), the Tall Lighthouse and Ambit wonder Emily Berry and from our very bosom, Rachael Allen. Everyone at this event will be covering a song/poem from the deceased, so be prepared for some interesting/inspiring listening folks.
and ff this isn't enough for your greedy chops then the delightful men at Zineswap will be curating a table of zines and dreams for you to feast on.
To top it all off, it's only bloody free! Everything kicks off at 4:00 and is all interwoven from then through to the evening, so get yourselves down to the Notting Hill Arts Club and indulge yourself till you're fat and bloated, I know I'm going to.
Also as a side note I was re-reading the Clinic book on a train yesterday and I had forgotten just how incredible Heather Phillipson is, just check this poem out for proof and then head over to Notting Hill:
Some Kind of Memento Mori
Oh yes, the woolly mammoths are all gone.
For twenty three and a half hours a day I forget
and then a 40-watt bulb blows as I turn it on.
It’s something unspoken, the burnt-out bayonet –
its filament no longer incandescent,
the electric current without an outlet, and I see –
not much has changed since the Pleistocene.
Removal of the bulb is a change of epoch.
These days there are elephants in Africa, elephants
in India, the new gloom of silhouettes and table lamps,
new pearl bayonets in my cupboard in their boxes.
But the woolly mammoths are gone even in Siberia.
The glass bulb is spent, though shapely in its socket.
I’ve changed plenty of bulbs but this one’s gone
and brought to light the shadows that go on in shadows
or, as I think of it, yes, woolly mammoths.