02/04/2026
Been a bullet right between the eyes – there was no time or room for manoeuvre
After fifteen remarkable gathers upstairs at the Unicorn Ale House, it is time for me to share some news with the community that helped bring those nights to life. The Mothman Gathers at the Unicorn will now be coming to an end. The brewery has decided that the upstairs boardroom will be converted into a pool and darts room, which means the event room that allowed those evenings of music and poetry to exist will no longer be available in the same way.
For many a brief moment in Manchester, something rare happened in that room. Artists from across the city, singers, writers, poets and musicians, climbed those stairs carrying pieces of themselves to share. What formed there was not simply a showcase of talent. It became a listening room where audiences chose silence out of respect for the courage it takes to stand and reveal your work.
All of this happened upstairs at the Unicorn Ale House on Church Street in the Northern Quarter, right in the centre of the bustling city of Manchester. Outside, the street carried on with its usual energy, and this listed building that will move for nobody, dwarfed on either side and behind by towering living quarters, held something very different on its second floor of three. In that room, a very different atmosphere took hold.
Over time I experimented with different venues and different room sizes, always searching for the environment where original songwriters could truly let fly. What I discovered was simple. The best environment for gifted artists is the smallest one, what I now call the micro-venue.
A room small enough that everyone understands the one rule without needing to be told. When someone performs, the room becomes silent and everyone locks in. Not because they are forced to, but because every artist in the room understands the courage it takes to stand up and reveal something born from private moments of creation.
Inside that space something else began to happen. Artists shared technique, explained where songs had come from, and spoke about ideas and inspiration. Sometimes they invited each other to collaborate mid-set when the moment felt right. It became a place where musicians were not only performing, they were learning from one another in real human time.
Acts traveled from near and far, as far as Warrington, Buxton, Bolton, Todmodern, and Leeds to be part of this
First Wednesday of Every Month (apart from January – nobody goes out in January x)
Between sets the room returned to gentle conversation, and people would rush downstairs to top up on the Unicorn’s famously cheap and friendly drinks. Then the bell would ring. That bell meant only one thing. The room fell silent again, the next artist stepped forward, and everyone locked in.
Building that environment took time. Many shapes and layouts were tried until the room eventually settled into a miniature theatre-like setup with a dedicated stage area at the back. It did not begin that way though. The first gatherings were held with all the lights on, chairs in a semi circle, no microphones, and amps unplugged. Later microphones were introduced, and only later still were amps added.
One comment I hold especially close came from Octavia, who once said, “Microphones and amps feel like sacrilege here.” To me that solidified felt proof that something rare had been created, a place of occasion where the focus was entirely on the artist and the moment.
The Mothman Gather became my way of creating that environment. I built the room like a kind of moth trap itself, soft lighting, a mood-laden atmosphere, and limited lights, the kind of dimly lit, atmospheric pubs I grew up around in my Irish family.
That light would then attract the moths.
To me the moths are the rare original songwriters out there, the gifted ones who are so hard to pin down and then witness in full flight. One by one they would arrive, drawn into that room, and when they performed the entire space would fall into the moment. Everyone present learning from the experience of watching real mastery happening in real time.
That is why I call myself the Mothman. Like the moth itself, I have also been burned by that same light more than once. Chasing down these rare performers and building spaces for them often became an obsession, but it was an obsession born from love for the craft, fragile yet powerful, like the hurricane a billion moths might make beating their wings all at once.
I want to thank the landlady and all of the staff at the Unicorn for their warmth and support throughout. They allowed this unusual experiment to live above their pub and welcomed it from the very beginning.
Much thanks must also go to Firefly Dawn for her unending support, from extra photography on the nights themselves, to artist questions on the nights, to advising on how the room was shaped into the atmosphere it eventually became.
A special acknowledgement must go to John Coley. Connecting with his Scribbling Town collective was an honour. Jon joined the final gathering, and bringing that expertise into the fold (and to bring along his own extensive fold) felt important. My intention had been to run the gather alongside him for some time and then, when the moment felt right, hand the room and its gatherings over to Jon to continue. He would have been the perfect steward to carry that community forward.
Special thanks must go to Laksmi for being the first act to ever play the Mothman Gather, setting the tone for everything that followed. And to the regular and much-loved supporter Miss Airedale for so fittingly closing the fifteenth and final night.
Knights at my table throughout the gather were without question Octavia, what a knight’s name that is, alongside Adam Leavy, Alexandra Hislop, and so many other remarkable artists who helped shape those nights.
For me personally, this closing of the gather also marks the beginning of something else. For the past few years I have been building spaces for other artists. Now it is time for myself to return to being an artist myself again, to write, perform and record, and to step forward into the next chapter of my own work – that being playing something ‘more’ than just ever once each time as (Adam Solitaire-piano)
At the same time the creative world stands on the edge of enormous change. Artificial intelligence is beginning to lean hard on the arts in ways none of us fully understand yet. In new times like this the role of human creativity becomes paramount important to continue.
The Mothman gathers proved something powerful to me and all who attended. Give artists a room. Give them an audience willing to listen. And something extraordinary will…….be felt
So while the gather at the Unicorn is ending, the spirit behind it is not disappearing. The artists remain. The voices remain. And the work continues.
Thank you to every artist who climbed those stairs. Thank you to every audience member who chose to listen. And thank you to the Unicorn Ale House for giving those nights a home.
The Gather ends. But the Moths are out there ALWAYS
Other gathers led by myself may happen elsewhere, I now know the format
You who gathered, proved that.
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On the last gather
Jon was on holiday in Texas
Jake and his guitar shown he was a natural born songwriter
Miss Airedale, He was magnificent, he always is
And a surprise act travelled all the way from Leeds, Binman by day, Blues playing god after dark
Another act never bothered to turn up
And another chap id never met in person before, snuck off to that high hill, the Whiskey Jar to play at the shows yearly birthday instead – the AUDacity x
AND SO
As Adam Duritz of Counting Crows wrote in the heartbreaking beauty of the classic album ‘August and Everything After’
‘I think it is time to take the top down’
(Meaning of a giant circus tent)
Mothman – Manchester
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All acts who performed are to be thanked via private message
I will also list all the acts who performed, made the gather
