Close Personal Friends. A Reflection.

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Hosted by Hormoz Ahmadzadeh and Robert Martin

Images Robert Martin

October 10th 11th and 12th 2010. Manchester

“That evening was truly special and I soaked up all the wonderful sentiment in the music and lyrics which really fed and challenged my soul!” Harriet Williams-Walker (guest)

“The performers, the hosts and the audience all have the best seats in the house.” David McAlmont

Close Personal Friends. David McAlmont, Guy Davies, Patrick Fitzgerald.

I have the covetable position next to my close personal friends: they are my collaborators, accompanists and musical soul brothers, Patrick Fitzgerald and Guy Davies. Guy and I have the covetable seats from where we can observe Patrick’s fingers as they execute his inimitably edgy chords. We look with green-eyed respect, over his shoulder, thrilling to the unashamedly imaginative wordsmithery in his lyric book. Patrick enjoys a similar vantage point when he takes a break and Guy and I step up to perform. We all luxuriate before  a small company of attentive guests. We hear every restrained cough and sneeze, every mobile bleep, every choked sob. Their laughter is infectious, their applause resounding. Our hosts have generously provided us with this audience of their friends and guests, something that Patrick’s creativity appreciates: because of another all-consuming vocation, performance outlets like these are rare. Patrick, Guy and I have done bits and bobs together over the years, but never has our mutual admiration, friendship and artistic affection been given the honour of a platform upon which to celebrate the survival of our creativity against the micro-odds of corporate music industry or the macro-shenanigans of life itself.

Close Personal Friends. Patrick Fitzgerald. David McAlmont.

Our hosts have the most enviable seats in the house because they have opened their striking apartment in the centre of Manchester to this remarkable event’s unfolding over three nights. They are profoundly and appreciatively conversant with the knowledge that every day two maverick creatives, with credible indie and pop credentials, don’t simply waltz into your home to do a performance of their back catalogues, and to tell the warts and all story of their 18/25 year careers and friendship. From where our hosts sit they also know that stories told and music performed to many music-loving audiences aren’t always readily granted the intensely immediate edginess of small theatre; not only are they enjoying an unlikely, unique encounter with  two favourite artistes-  having memories of early  love stirred by an evocative soundtrack that recalls that time- but they are inadvertently making a modestly invaluable contribution to the arts in their city by engineering this astonishing experience for their friends, loved ones  and even some complete strangers.

Each audience member has the best seat in the house because each night’s capacity averages thirty. The programme is generous, deep, inspiring, moving, thought-provoking, considered, literary, accomplished, the list could go on. The only amplification is for the electric piano, through the home stereo system. The acoustic guitar that Patrick and Guy share, my singing and that of Patrick and Guy isn’t miked. The performances are raw, true, live, bereft of lighting and reverberant gloss. The audience members are engaged intimately and directly: names are exchanged, questions invited and answered. Even a heated exchange about fame and the mainstream and my absence from it ensues. Gossip and low-downs are revealed, name-drops are clanged, tears are jerked, laughter is elicited, confessions are made, eyebrows are raised.

“The thin stripe where sky meets sea…” Patrick Fitzgerald.

Songcraft is explored and described: I realise how vital Patrick has been to my expression over the years, providing me with a platform to be intensely poetic when I’ve been hesitant to express myself thus. I marvel anew and proudly at the completeness of Patrick’s composition, the investment of emotion in every word, note and each ringing, chilling chord. I voice my reinvigorated admiration and grass up my genuine envy. Patrick sings with me- unexpectedly at points- as do I with him. At times I close my eyes to sing and am surprised at how powerful a voice I have and how far I can push it. Patrick pretends that there are vocal performances of mine that he cannot follow, before sitting at the piano and confidently snaffling my fleeting thunder with another heart-rending assembly of those chords of his, those literary lyrical devices typical of the superbly read, his disarming melodies and that vulnerable vocal thing that he does. I lovingly call him bastard! Guy holds his own by equipping himself with typically professional grace. He demonstrates his maestro-quality with diligent discretion as he capably handles  the music of John Barry, Michael Nyman, David Arnold, Craig Armstrong, Tom Waits, Bernard Butler, Saul Freeman, Magnus Fiennes, Gary Clarke, Boo Hewerdine, Patrick Fitzgerald etc. Favourite songs are greeted with whoops, the applause rings loud and long and there are seismic cheers that appear to rattle the apartment walls. Photographs are taken, i-Phones held aloft and video footage captured.

The second set concludes with a rendition of the song from which the salon takes its name, and as we rise to take a bow the audience rises to its feet to bestow a humbling ovation upon us. I want to return the favour because I admire the decision of those gathered to take a punt on this improbable experiment. We leave the room; we are applauded back; we do another five numbers; we bow; we stand aside for Guy to take a bow; he is cheered. We leave the room and are applauded back again. The hosts thank us profusely, openly airing their disbelief at what has taken place in their home; the feeling is mutual. As the performance concludes and drinks are refreshed, goodnights are stated and cds are signed, the feeling in the room remains one of amazement at the up-close-and-personal nature of a unique experience. The name of the show suddenly becomes appropriate not only to the performers on stage, but to a gathering that has been at one on an extraordinary voyage aboard the benevolently charted vessel ‘Close Personal Friends.’

‎”3 whole evenings in the company of Patrick Fitzgerald/David McAlmont and maestro Guy Davies. All different, all magical in their own ways, all intensely entertaining and moving for the audience. THANK YOU men.” Hormoz Ahmadzadeh (Host)

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