..a Bar Magician
by Ben Rowell
Eleven in the morning and Sav is already on his fourth lager. He is trying to perfect a trick involving a new beer for its launch by a major American brewer later in the week, but the bottle keeps breaking. When things do finally go to plan, the bottle-tops he is casually flicking in the air and catching on the rim land, somehow, inside the bottle. Even across the kitchen-table in his Stockwell flat, and with repeated viewings (including failures), I really can t tell how it s done.
Sav (that's the name, just Sav) is a close-up magician; a near cousin of new-breed street-magicians such as David Blaine and Paul Zenon, and no relation whatsoever to old-stagers such as David Copperfield and Paul Daniels. Sav specialises in roving spots at London s more fashionable bars, parties and corporate bashes. Regular slots include Ian Schrager's Light Bar, the Match bars, 23 Romilly St and at the GE Club. Recent one-off engagements range from an after-gig party for the Fun Lovin Criminals to a soiree at Longleat for Lord Bath. In June, he also offered listeners to Chris Moyles's Radio One show a week's worth of radio magic slots.
The 27-year-old Black Country boy was first introduced to magic, aged eight, by a Butlins Redcoat. Sav practised alone in his bedroom through his school years ("I was a sad, obsessive kid") and then made his first foray into professional magic at De Montfort University when his grant ran out while he was studying graphic design. He busked on the street and made quite a bit of money . After university, a trip to the US turned into something of a magical tour when he bumped into a few American magicians. When he returned, he decided to employ his new talents.
Corporate-event organisers and bar-owners now hire Sav chiefly for the element of surprise. He acknowledges the ambivalence of the British public towards magicians ("Let's face it, most of us would rather be sawn in half properly than be button-holed by a conjuror at a party") but points out: "If most people are wary of magicians, we all, at the end of the day, love magic". Sav deliberately exploits this ambivalence when he works a crowded room. His understated approach involves choosing a small group and engaging them in some banter before whizzing through a 10-minute medley of magical highlights: it rarely fails. He also employs it whenever he pitches for new business, an activity that occupies many afternoons. "Whenever I meet a new client, I ask if I can show a few tricks. Normally, they're a bit coy and say it might not be appropriate in the office. But by the end of the meeting, we'll normally have half the office round the desk."
The approach has garnered him numerous corporate clients, including Disney, Rizla, Evian and blue-chips such as Citibank, Deutsche Bank and Diageo. Charged £250 an hour, they always receive a tailor-made performance and invariably rehire him. This afternoon, Sav has meetings with two City firms who wish to book him for Christmas parties, then he goes to see his agent in Soho. When he doesn't have meetings, Sav spends his time "researching new tricks, reading old magic books or just catching up with other magicians". After seeing his agent, Sav heads for his first professional engagement of the day, at 6.30pm in the Match Bar, Margaret Street, W1. He performs a regular Tuesday evening slot there. Arriving half-an-hour early, he disappears into the basement for ages. When he returns, he wears a beautifully cut, three-piece suit with an unusual number of pockets. "Yeah, it's a special suit," Sav concedes.
Surveying the room for his first victims ("Never interrupt a business meeting, and always let people sit down, catch up, relax"), he finally selects two twentysomethings. He decides on the downbeat gambit: Would you like to see some magic? Clare and Roberta, two web/media workers, look unenthused until Sav produces a flaming cigarette from thin air. He proceeds to run through a set of increasingly impressive card tricks before climaxing with his coin-spinning trick, in which a 10p is made to hover in mid-air. By the end of the set, both women are drop-jawed, delighted and demanding more. But Sav has moved on.
His success is repeated right around the bar. Andrew Coles, Match bar manager, observes: You can always tell the tables Sav's visited because they just look more animated. At the end of the evening, Sav returns to Clare and Roberta. While casually chatting, he executes his beer-bottle trick. It goes like a dream. If you can't be a Harry Potter wizard, you can at least be a bar magician.
