Max Fishel
Originally from Liverpool but has lived in London for over 40 years. Performs own material, which alternates between deep, silly, and poignant.
Worked in NHS for 5 years, state education for 40. Now “retired”.
Lifelong player of Irish music, plays at a weekly session in south London. Involved in education, equality and disability issues.
A dad,
a grandad,
a partner,
a human!
I was never beaten as a child
I was never beaten as a child
maybe that was because my father
wasn’t there most of the time
away four nights, in for three
just my mum and me
not speaking much at all
passing each other in the kitchen
or the hall
the front room lined with books
about the holocaust
and concentration camps of course
naked skeletons in a pit
were the companions I grew up with
she told me to be careful
every time I left the house
the Nazis were out there,
in Liverpool 17,
Smithdown Road leading to the gas chambers
at the Pier Head
the number 5 bus my own kindertransport
to hell
in her mind
the man and woman I called my parents
fed and clothed me well enough
he
made the money
she
cleaned the house
I
did my homework
they
said I was a Jew,
assumed I was a Jew
as far as they knew Max Fishel 2019
Only Music Can Do This
NB This piece is meant to be performed, in a self-referential manner according to the verse content and rhythm
A little six eight,
a lot of four four,
we love it all don’t we
and we shout for more
If it’s rock and roll or reggae,
bhangra jazz or jive,
it doesn’t really matter (cos)
it makes us feel alive
We’re black, white or brown you know,
we don’t give a damn,
all we want’s a decent tune
Bach or The Jam
We love it in the kitchen (this verse references the lyrics of certain
we love it in the hall traditional English and Irish folk songs)
we love it on the street you know we
fuckin love it all
On the beat or (this line, each word equal strong beat)
syn-copated, (“syn-copated” spoken as syn/(pause)/cuhpated)
it’s not like religion,
nothing is hated
No borders, no passports, we’re (beats on italicised syllables)
routinely optimistic,
everybody’s welcome, no
migration statistics
But then the beat chan/ges, (beats on italicised syllables)
♪ ♪. ♪ ♪ ♪. ♪
you su/ddenly feel it,
♪ ♪. ♪ ♪ ♪. ♪
takes you a few mo/ments
♪ ♪. ♪ ♪ ♪. ♪
be/fore your brain clears it
♪ ♪. ♪ ♪ ♪. ♪
And then there’s contemporary avant-garde, (this verse is performed in a randomly rhythmical,
Lots of weird sounds all over the place, , up and down pitch, totally bonkers manner)
Concerto for electric shaver and fallopian tubes –
what’s all that about? I don’t know
So –
a little six eight
a lot of four four
we love it all don’t we
and we shout
for more
Max Fishel
