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21 Oct 19
20:31
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Date Joined:
27 Jan 02
We saw her last night.
Excellent. To be hypercritical, she did not talk to the audience but the show was a hit .
After the show (ending peoples' faces) she came back onstage and she said the sweetest thing in lieu of an encore, she said c:
"Amazing feeling. I have said everything I wanted to say tonight, but I didn't want your last feeling to be disappointment. Please take away this good energy to wherever you're going on to tonight."
Excellent. To be hypercritical, she did not talk to the audience but the show was a hit .
After the show (ending peoples' faces) she came back onstage and she said the sweetest thing in lieu of an encore, she said c:
"Amazing feeling. I have said everything I wanted to say tonight, but I didn't want your last feeling to be disappointment. Please take away this good energy to wherever you're going on to tonight."
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I've just given her nearly two minutes on youtube, each to their own ub.
congrats on your stamina, saddo i lasted less than a minute
well tbf lefty dummies do tend to get short shrift from me - as no doubt you may have noticed
ah of course it would be the trend - but how can someone so boring and so awful be considered as talented?
but it fits that woke thing they go on about - what exactly is that supposed to mean by the way - harry has caught they tell me
but it fits that woke thing they go on about - what exactly is that supposed to mean by the way - harry has caught they tell me
ah the old injustice in society that the tree-huggers love
well that was stupid of me now i find she had a jolly good go ha ha
and brexit of course
but 'europe is lost' she is dead right there - germany is sinking under the new europe and all the friends coming to their cities
and brexit of course
but 'europe is lost' she is dead right there - germany is sinking under the new europe and all the friends coming to their cities
at least she is not politiclly biased - I wonder where she learnt all this tripe - I bet her school teachers are chuffed to bits - 'keep repeating the message' to the thickos ha ha
So she is basically another left wing person - I can't come to say poet, dramatist!!! - comedienne. It's just more of the same old propaganda.
Kate Tempest's poetry is simply no good Kate Tempest, a 30 year old dramatist and poet, has an appeal that’s hard to fathom. Is it all in the elbows? Like most performers raised on hip hop, she recites with her upper limbs flapping and wiggling as if by remote control. For emphasis she uses that impatient downward flicking gesture, beloved of rappers, like a countess at a buffet ridding her fingers of unwanted guacamole.
She sates the ear too rapidly because her technique has an obvious and easily corrected fault: no variety. Tempo and mood never change, so she can’t create expectation, uncertainty, surprise or relief. Every line sounds like its predecessor, half sung on a falling note, and every word seems to exult in its contact with the dolorous and moribund. Here’s a snippet from ‘My Shakespeare’, which the RSC, along with BP, commissioned from her in 2012. Tempest delivers the poem in her habitual tone of querulous anger:
He’s less the tights and garters
More the sons demanding answers
From the absence of their fathers.
The hot darkness of a doomed embrace.
Metrical rigour and adroit rhyming are not yet among her accomplishments. She has a pretty, cherubic face, framed by unbrushed red blonde hair and she speaks in a Caribbean lite patois that translates ‘those things’ into ‘dem fings’. This linguistic pattern has many fans among the elite. It’s seen as an emblem of barbarous innocence, of instinctive passions bred in the ghetto, of an unschooled and therefore superior creativity. And it particularly excites Arts Council grandees who believe their mission is to reach down to the uncivilised and protean human type. Which Tempest perfectly represents.
She is also, like many a timid and parochial spirit, pessimistic to the point of superstition. She sees malevolence everywhere. Even in Brighton, where next year she will serve as the festival’s ‘guest director’. To mark her appointment she analysed the present epoch with damning fatalism. ‘The fear spreading everywhere and the divisions between us deepening daily.’ The cure for fear and division is to attend a gig, she suggests, although perhaps not one of hers.
She’s drawn to ancient mythology and her appetite expresses itself, characteristically one might say, in terms of distaste and pain. She finds herself ‘arguing’ for what she calls ‘a new mythology’. ‘We’ve lost our connection to mythology. I find that kind of troubling.’ Hardly troubling. Hardly true either. The archetypes of Greek folklore are all around us. The narcissistic, man bewitching Kim Kardashian is our Helen of Troy. All conquering Zeus and his irascible wife Hera, co governors of Mount Olympus, have their counterparts in Brad and Angelina. Any premiership love rat could be the philandering warrior, Paris, who prefers the couch of love to the call of duty. Hephaestus, the crippled wizard, is Stephen Hawking. And Artemis, the sexless huntress worshipped from afar by impotent men, sounds like the new prime minister. But no one could accuse Tempest of suffering from a lack of ambition. And her desire to create a new mythology and to delight us with its wonders can speak for itself. Here’s a couplet from her poem, ‘Icarus’.
Foolish young pride, silly man cub
How can you learn to fly if you ain’t even learned to stand up?
Kate Tempest's poetry is simply no good Kate Tempest, a 30 year old dramatist and poet, has an appeal that’s hard to fathom. Is it all in the elbows? Like most performers raised on hip hop, she recites with her upper limbs flapping and wiggling as if by remote control. For emphasis she uses that impatient downward flicking gesture, beloved of rappers, like a countess at a buffet ridding her fingers of unwanted guacamole.
She sates the ear too rapidly because her technique has an obvious and easily corrected fault: no variety. Tempo and mood never change, so she can’t create expectation, uncertainty, surprise or relief. Every line sounds like its predecessor, half sung on a falling note, and every word seems to exult in its contact with the dolorous and moribund. Here’s a snippet from ‘My Shakespeare’, which the RSC, along with BP, commissioned from her in 2012. Tempest delivers the poem in her habitual tone of querulous anger:
He’s less the tights and garters
More the sons demanding answers
From the absence of their fathers.
The hot darkness of a doomed embrace.
Metrical rigour and adroit rhyming are not yet among her accomplishments. She has a pretty, cherubic face, framed by unbrushed red blonde hair and she speaks in a Caribbean lite patois that translates ‘those things’ into ‘dem fings’. This linguistic pattern has many fans among the elite. It’s seen as an emblem of barbarous innocence, of instinctive passions bred in the ghetto, of an unschooled and therefore superior creativity. And it particularly excites Arts Council grandees who believe their mission is to reach down to the uncivilised and protean human type. Which Tempest perfectly represents.
She is also, like many a timid and parochial spirit, pessimistic to the point of superstition. She sees malevolence everywhere. Even in Brighton, where next year she will serve as the festival’s ‘guest director’. To mark her appointment she analysed the present epoch with damning fatalism. ‘The fear spreading everywhere and the divisions between us deepening daily.’ The cure for fear and division is to attend a gig, she suggests, although perhaps not one of hers.
She’s drawn to ancient mythology and her appetite expresses itself, characteristically one might say, in terms of distaste and pain. She finds herself ‘arguing’ for what she calls ‘a new mythology’. ‘We’ve lost our connection to mythology. I find that kind of troubling.’ Hardly troubling. Hardly true either. The archetypes of Greek folklore are all around us. The narcissistic, man bewitching Kim Kardashian is our Helen of Troy. All conquering Zeus and his irascible wife Hera, co governors of Mount Olympus, have their counterparts in Brad and Angelina. Any premiership love rat could be the philandering warrior, Paris, who prefers the couch of love to the call of duty. Hephaestus, the crippled wizard, is Stephen Hawking. And Artemis, the sexless huntress worshipped from afar by impotent men, sounds like the new prime minister. But no one could accuse Tempest of suffering from a lack of ambition. And her desire to create a new mythology and to delight us with its wonders can speak for itself. Here’s a couplet from her poem, ‘Icarus’.
Foolish young pride, silly man cub
How can you learn to fly if you ain’t even learned to stand up?
Ohh she is on at free trade hall Manchester november 11, if she annoys the tory fanboys she must have something about her 
really thats not cool no , but her dissing the Spivs outweighs that Capt
' she speaks in a Caribbean lite patois that translates ‘those things’ into ‘dem fings’. This linguistic pattern has many fans among the elite. It’s seen as an emblem of barbarous innocence, of instinctive passions bred in the ghetto, of an unschooled and therefore superior creativity'
and dull as ditch water - just listen for a bit - fits in with the woke xr momentum lot - ticks all the boxes
the ironic title for me is 'europe is lost'
the ironic title for me is 'europe is lost'
No idea of his source but the author slags off Tempest then writes a bunch of pretentious bollox like this:
She’s drawn to ancient mythology and her appetite expresses itself, characteristically one might say, in terms of distaste and pain. She finds herself ‘arguing’ for what she calls ‘a new mythology’. ‘We’ve lost our connection to mythology. I find that kind of troubling.’ Hardly troubling. Hardly true either. The archetypes of Greek folklore are all around us. The narcissistic, man bewitching Kim Kardashian is our Helen of Troy. All conquering Zeus and his irascible wife Hera, co governors of Mount Olympus, have their counterparts in Brad and Angelina. Any premiership love rat could be the philandering warrior, Paris, who prefers the couch of love to the call of duty. Hephaestus, the crippled wizard, is Stephen Hawking. And Artemis, the sexless huntress worshipped from afar by impotent men, sounds like the new prime minister. But no one could accuse Tempest of suffering from a lack of ambition. And her desire to create a new mythology and to delight us with its wonders can speak for itself.
...
All the same, I'm not a fan. Regardless, glad you enjoyed the show UB!
She’s drawn to ancient mythology and her appetite expresses itself, characteristically one might say, in terms of distaste and pain. She finds herself ‘arguing’ for what she calls ‘a new mythology’. ‘We’ve lost our connection to mythology. I find that kind of troubling.’ Hardly troubling. Hardly true either. The archetypes of Greek folklore are all around us. The narcissistic, man bewitching Kim Kardashian is our Helen of Troy. All conquering Zeus and his irascible wife Hera, co governors of Mount Olympus, have their counterparts in Brad and Angelina. Any premiership love rat could be the philandering warrior, Paris, who prefers the couch of love to the call of duty. Hephaestus, the crippled wizard, is Stephen Hawking. And Artemis, the sexless huntress worshipped from afar by impotent men, sounds like the new prime minister. But no one could accuse Tempest of suffering from a lack of ambition. And her desire to create a new mythology and to delight us with its wonders can speak for itself.
...
All the same, I'm not a fan. Regardless, glad you enjoyed the show UB!
Gil Scott-Heron on Radio 6 (who love Tempest) as I type. That's how it should be done, Kate!
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