Folk Roots Tour

2009-05-17T07:22:00.000-07:00

Gig 15 The Travelling Folk. 7th May 2009
The Junction Inn
Groombridge
TN3 9RD

Attendance: 25
Price: £Free
My Location: In the round

Record Recommendation: Anna Begins: The Counting Crows.

When I embarked on this folking escapade in the chilly depths of last winter, I didn’t imagine I would turn up to each venue and have every gig performed to at least what I’d call a semi-professional level. Most of it hasn’t been the ‘grassroots’ I keep harking on about, but artists who have just been shaded out of the big time; if there is a big time in the genre we’ve been following. This may be due to other commitments, or not making the right decision at the right time. The biggest name I’ve seen so far, Phil Beer, made the momentous and profound decision a few years ago, to quit his London office job and become a professional singer. If he hadn’t, the world we inhabit would be an even more superficial place than it already is, so well done that lad!

The Travelling Folk, playing at the Junction Inn Groombridge, however, was more like the type of gathering that I was expecting! The idea behind The Travelling Folk is simple- a group of musicians meet up and play traditional music. It lived up to my idea of the stereotype folk event, with the venue this evening being a wonderful East Sussex country pub. As the name suggests, Travelling Folk use a variety of locations, When I arrived, there were a couple of old boys sitting at tables, discussing the merits of the leaf spring, and the engineering behind the cylinders, valves and inlets to be found on the steam engine. One of the chaps had a familiar look to him I thought. My memories of seeing him Seaford were confirmed a while later, when the lady who took the seat next to mine told me that he was involved with that club. Indeed, he turned out to be Roger Resch, who I mentioned in the Seaford write up.

As well as the steam train enthusiasts, there were a couple of other musicians with a selection of instruments in the bar. It wasn’t long before the singing started with a self-written number by a fellow on mandolin, called the Appling Song. It was a tune about the husbandry of growing and harvesting apples. The Traveller’s set up reminded me of a visit I took to Ireland a few years ago. I was walking along the Wicklow Way out of Dublin, and camping out in fields near pubs in the rural areas. Two patterns became obvious as the trail took us away from the city. Firstly, the Guinness became cheaper, and tastier, as the miles progressed. Some might say that the Guinness tasted better because it was cheaper, but I still maintain that out in the counties they knew how to tend to the black stuff better. They poured it, let it settle, and topped it up as lovingly as an artist would touch up his most matchless work. Perhaps it was seeing the task being done, and the anticipation of sipping that cool draught that improved the flavour. I don’t know what it was, but just thinking about those evenings makes the mouth water!

The second noticeable feature of going native I noticed, was that groups of 3 or 4 musicians would often pitch up in a bar, produce a fiddle or two, a guitar and accordion, and start playing. I had never witnessed this type of improvised, spontaneous musicianship before, and was thoroughly impressed by it all. A few of the patrons would stop and listen, but the majority carried on without, it seemed, noticing. In effect, The Travelling Folk were an English version of this phenomenon. I didn’t try the Junction’s Vitamin G, so I can’t comment on whether it delivered to the same standard- I couldn’t complain about the Harvey’s though.

The host for the evening, Terry, invited one of the steam engine fans, Mick, to sing next. Rose of Allendale was performed unaccompanied. I have to admit that there was something captivating about seeing the elderly gent singing without a hint of self-consciousness, in an English public house. Roger, with accordion, was up next playing Lark in the Morning. Mick was tapping his feet, many people were singing along, and the lady next to me produced a set of spoons from her handbag. Because, during our earlier converse I had told her I played drums, she passed them to me. Having never been formally trained in the etiquette of ‘spoons’, I attempted, unsuccessfully to produce the semblance of a tune. “Percussion”, as I informed an excellent jazz singer, who was shaking maracas ever so slightly out of time at a gig once, “should be left to percussionists”!

Even more of the Travellers joined in for the next couple of tunes, which included Man in the Moon. Martin was singing From Hull, Halifax and Hell next. The phrase is taken from the strict vagrancy laws that used to govern the two cities. It was said that during the 16th and 17th Centuries, anyone caught steeling 13 pence or more in Halifax, was hanged. This is of course totally untrue- they were beheaded on the gib for their troubles! John Taylor’s poem the Halifax Gibbet tells of the machine that was the infamous predecessor of Madam La..

Terry took his turn in the limelight with a well-sung Queen of the May Day, followed by Mary singing Bitter Green. Mary had arrived later in the proceedings, with her ‘instrument’. Even by the standards of this tour, where what I’d call unusual instruments such as the recorder, hurdy-gurdy, and spoon, (I do have a rock background remember) are relatively common, Mary’s stick stood out! The said instrument is known as a lagerphone, and originated in Australia, its owner has since informed me. It was a long walking stick with bottle tops nailed to it, and a washboard type scraper attached to the top. As she later demonstrated, it was a great utensil for shaking out a tambourine like sound, whilst banging out the beat with a thud on the floor. The Seaford Folk Club were well represented amongst the Travellers, as my personal guide for the evening, the lady next to me, pointed out. Mary is a founding member of that esteemed club.

The youngest member of the troupe, Mick performed on accordion next, followed by the good lady next to me playing Bedlam (the song, not the instrument). By this stage, the curiosity of some of the pub locals had been aroused, and they were looking in, clearly enjoying the event.

After a short interval, the canal boat song When the Chestnut Blooms in Flower was performed. I really liked the tune and its theme. Pat followed singing the rebels’ song Joe Hill. It was the first time I had heard this one, and I had similar feelings to the topic as with When the Chestnut. Joe Hill has become a legend of American folklore due to his, what critics say was an unfair, trial for the murder of John and Arling Morrison, and the subject of many a song and at least one film. Pat’s Joe Hill version focussed on his labour activist interests. The song ended with “when you see men on strike- I’ll be there”, a line which paraphrases Tom Joad’s “look for me in the eyes of a child” farewell in Grapes of Wrath. I guess theme of characters standing up to injustice are universally appreciated, from the depression of the 1930s to Middle England folk, we love to hear of brave people standing up to tyranny. And I raise a pint to them!

The night continued until about 11- those old uns have got some stamina, during which time I really enjoyed a couple of club instrumentals. Instigated by Terry, everyone who had an instrument strummed, accordioned, blew, banged or stomped together. Also good old Roger was constantly to hand prompting forgetful singers with the words. The night came to a close, and I, and two other first timers, were presented with The Travelling Folk badge to prove we had lasted the evening! Thanks very much for those Terry. Having a chat with Roger, I asked if the club ever had guest musicians. He told me that wasn’t the purpose of the club; it was there not to play out of the way in a back room of a pub. It existed to bring traditional folk music to the people, where they gathered, in bars. He said that sometimes customers had a laugh at their expense, much the same as Morris Dancers do on occasion. However, there was no cajoling that night; rather a “one more for the road” request from the patrons. If you would like to join in the tradition of spreading folk to the people, or just listening to singers perform for free get yourself along to support The Travelling Folk for a great evening’s free entertainment.

Someone once said, "be careful what you ask for- you might just get it". I think that the phrase is supposed to insinuate that you may get a less than desirable outcome; like the football fans who demanded their manager resign. He did just that, two months later the team was relegated. To add insult to injury, the manager’s new lower league team passed his old one on the way up when they were promoted! Since the tour started, I have been hoping to see what I call ordinary people playing folk music for the sake of keeping the tradition alive. I got what I wanted, but, unlike the hapless football fans, I could not have been more impressed with what I got.

Where to next on this tour? I am due to visit a random club next week, however, I have promised to take Biggs to The Ram Club in preparation to The Woodcut Process doing a floor spot there. The guest on the evening will be David Ferrard.

2009-04-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

Gig 14 Robin Gillan. 16th April 2009
Islington Folk Club
The Horse Shoe
24 Clerkenwell Close
EC1R OAG

Attendance: 35
Price: £7
My Location: 6th row

Record Recommendation: The Fire Inside: Bob Seger.

As we all struggle through this life, we have to make decisions, and stand by them. Then we either bask in glory or suffer the consequences of those decisions. In the short term, you can perhaps wing your way by on a bit of luck, but for long lasting success, in my humble opinion, you can’t; raw talent and class will stand out. Part of everyone’s allowance of raw talent, contains a very important packet of ‘good decision-making’. The most talented of us are blessed with the largest packets- oooh-errr! Don’t worry if yours is small, apparently one can purchase books to help grow it.

Lily Allen, for example, is lucky to be the daughter of actor Keith Allen. She has been accused of using his contacts, accusations, which she strongly denies I must point out, to launch her pop and broadcasting careers. Deny them she might, but the cynical side of me still says it was Keith’s influence; not any interviewing skills, hosting talent, or charisma of her own, that landed her the toe-curlingly embarrassing Lily Allen and Friends TV show.

Mike Peters, the Alarm front man, was lucky that Nigel Twist, the band’s drummer, is the brother of children’s TV host Gaz Topps. Topps leant the band the £1000 they needed to record their first single, Unsafe Building, thereby launching their rock career. Although they never reached mega pop stardom, and had their critics, the band was pretty successful, and to this day has a strong fan base.

In five years time, when she’s too tired to go to the parties that get her the attention she craves, people, as they try to sell their Lily Allen CDs, will wonder what possessed them to make the original purchase. Over twenty-five years after their Unsafe Building coup, and a couple of line up changes, the Alarm can still attract crowds to sell out 2000 seater venues. To be able to do that obviously requires raw talent, including your decision-making packet, which guides you toward what you are striving for, and why you want it. Lucky breaks can’t sustain that momentum.

Anyway, you may ask, as you often do, “where is all this rambling leading too?” I made a couple of decisions earlier in the week, which are having an adverse effect on me on this beautiful sunny spring day. They weren’t monumental decisions, and I reckon in the long run I won’t regret them too much. But I did decide to have too many late nights, and drink too much booze!

It started last Sunday as Biggs, Ford and I went to Dungeness to take some moody photos of the Woodcut Process. It was a good day out, which involved Biggs and I posing on a wind swept, chilly beach, next to abandoned fishing boats and piles of discarded nets and other debris, including a very expensive looking pilot’s chair. I have to admit that as most were long distance shots- there’s more background than the human subjects to spoil them- some of the pictures are half decent. Biggs has promised to put the better ones on our Myspace site, if you desperately want to see them. After the hard work, we refreshed ourselves at the local hostelry with a superb fish ‘n’ chip lunch, and I indulged in a couple of Broadsides, and an Old P.

The week that followed was one of excess and late nights, culminating in a works curry on Friday, and the Farnham Beer Festival yesterday! I must thank Mike for getting us the precious entry tickets for the event. As in previous visits, the fest was a triumph of beer over logic. While the rest of my body, and wallet, was saying “no”, my eyes were saying, “go”. There was only going to be one winner!

So it is this morning, as I watched all of those brave runners and wheelchair athletes doing the London Marathon, knowing that I should be enjoying the fresh air on a long running session of my own- Edinburgh is slowly creeping upon me- that I pay, with sore head and dodgy stomach, the consequences for poor decision making earlier in the week. I’ve only got 4 weekends before the marathon, so it shouldn’t be too hard to curb my enthusiasm for pubs between now and then.

Although he’s released a number of great songs, it’s the theme of the realisation that age takes its unrelenting toll on the individual who still has passions that I like about Bob Seger’s The Fire Inside. It’s a song that explores the seedier side of a person with human desires who realises that her “youth and beauty all fade away”. The Fire Inside Seger sings about, is the one that, for the song’s character, isn’t satisfied. It’s the love of someone who isn’t her partner- the one she didn’t have the courage commit to. However, she sees herself as ‘safe’ because she is in a relationship. The lyrics suggest that Seger suspects that she isn’t the only person in that kind of relationship. Quite a scrutiny of the human psyche! As well as the theme, listen to the piano. The keys on the tune are incredible; it’s a piece of genius that lifts the song, in my opinion, from the ‘good’ to the ‘great’.

I feel a link here; was Robin Gillan at the Islington Folk Club great, good or indifferent? Islington Folk Club nights are held in the large function room of the Horse Shoe pub. Compared with most clubs I have visited, the audience was ‘young’. When I say young, I mean, even though I am no longer a fresh faced youth, my age! Many of that audience were musicians, if the number of instrument cases of all shapes and sizes were to go by. They were gathered in groups, rather than integrating with each other, around the room- its size leant itself to the spread. This lack of integration didn’t make the place unwelcoming though; I guess not everyone wants to know everyone else’s business (unlike me!!).

As the room filled up, the Angel House Band took, and filled, the stage. I started to lose sight of the musicians as they arranged themselves behind bodhran and harmonica, 3 squeezeboxes, a fiddle, saxophone, and keyboard- yes that’s 7 musicians. The band opened with a refined instrumental, with bodhran player opting for the more subtle tones of the harmonica. Next up was the club host Bernard with his ukulele, singing his SUV protest song.

One of the lines was “don’t much like your BBC”. At the time it was received with a sharp disapproving intake of breathe from yours truly, because, although it has its faults, I think the Beeb airs many good shows. However, my opinion can change, and if I have to listen to any more trailers for The Apprentice, it will flip. The other day, the person who got knocked out was on Breakfast TV; then she was on the Steve Wright Radio show! Both shows introduced her like a wronged national treasure. Has the BBC not noticed; it was the likes of her, and her greedy, self-centred, blood-sucking cronies, who dragged us into this financial black hole? People, who are prepared to shed their dignity, creep to the boss, and tell tales on others to earn their fast buck, shouldn’t get publicity. They should be hidden away from the public eye, not stuck in front of a camera and encouraged! Oh yeah, when that obnoxious nincompoop says, “you’re fired” does he employ these desperate whiners already? If yes, surely he has to give them holiday pay, and 2 weeks notice. If he does not employ them, he can’t fire them, because he’s not employing them!!

Andy singing unaccompanied was up next. His song was the traditional classic that goes along the lines: boy meets girl, boy goes to sea, girl dresses as the cabin boy, cabin boy (girl) identifies herself, boy and girl get married at sea. Andy sang a very wordy song with a good clear voice. I had a chat with him during the break, and he told me he had only started singing recently- his teacher is giving him the right instructions.

After a slick change over, the Angel Band were performing again, this time the Harry Cocksedge Shottage instrumental. Following the introduction of “any colour you like, as long as it’s blue” from Bernard, Chris took to the stage. He played fine guitar, and sang and gurned in ‘traditional’ blues style.

In an impressively long list of floor spots, a three piece called Hurd, presumably because of the hurdy-gurdy played by Christine. The hurdy’s alternative sound was complimented by guitar and oboe- the latter being an instrument seldom seen on the folk circuit. It might be common where you come from, but it’s the first I’ve seen on this tour. Hurd played two brawls from the Champagne region of France, which had a really interesting medieval sound to them. This sound may be common where you come from, but it was the first time I’d heard it on this tour! As they had travelled so far to play, Bernard allowed them a third tune. With the hurdy swapped for a low recorder, and oboe for clarinet, the band played the mellow self-written Ghandi.

The Angel band was up again! preceding a very enthusiastic introduction for Robin Gillan. I was immediately impressed by the relaxed manner in which Robin took to the stage and settled himself before starting his first song. It is tough performing to an expectant audience, so being as comfortable as possible is a must, even if this makes for a short silence in proceedings. The short silence was followed by a guitar and harmonica Hillbilly instrumental, and an apology for his mistakes. The music sounded fine to me, and most of the other listeners I’m sure; another top tip for musicians from my Almanac of Stage Craft- don’t apologies! Gillan told us later about Roscoe Holcomb’s (Eric Clapton’s favourite country musician) unapologetic repost to a spectator who didn’t like his theme of songs. Every muso should take that insight of Holcomb’s on stage.

Gillan sang Bob Robert’s Sailor Song next, followed by a cheery little number on fiddle about a man shooting his wife Mrs Pretty Polly. While he sang the Sailor with a voice that to me sounded a la Guthrie, with Mrs Pretty Polly, the vocals took on a traditional English sound. Which ever set of chords he chose to exercise, they were pleasing to the ear.

Robin had been suffering tuning problems with his previous instruments, and he now picked up his ‘donkey’ fiddle, which he had deliberately cross-tuned. The fiddle sounded excellent to an up tempo version of Marched Retreat, where Gillan showed off his musical prowess. He then showed off his multi instrument ability with banjo playing Holcomb’s tune about a fellow killing his wife with poisoned wine. This was followed by a banjo instrumental, and a gorgeous tune about the Girl from Yarrow, played on accordion. This was a cracking end to a short first set.

As well as having a chat with the solo singer Andy during the break, I also had a chin wag with a lady who was visiting the club for the first time. She told me that she was enjoying the evening, but it was all very serious- she wanted to dance! As already mentioned, the function room was large, and one that I’m sure has witnessed dancing of sorts over the years. One of my laments about some of the clubs I have visited, is that people are sometimes put off expressing themselves, be it through dance, or singing along, by the atmosphere. I’m not expecting to pogo like I did at a Fingers gig, or sing at the raucous levels I would watching U2; but I do sympathise with the lady, as at some venues I’ve been to, I have felt awkward because of the chink of my glass when it’s put on the table!

Anyway, end of break, and not to be out done by Hurd, The Angel band, minus keyboard, plus hurdy-gurdy, started the second half. Bernard, posing elegantly against a pillar and strumming ukulele was next, followed by the Tom Paley. Next up was Martin Nail singing unaccompanied a ballad of the theme, which was becoming evermore common that evening: murder!!

Mark with his recently re-strung fiddle played an instrumental with Gillan next. If I could sum up the evening in three words, they would be “tuning, tuning, tuning”. Mark did warn us that he was having trouble getting the fiddle in key, and boy did it show! Poor old Gillan was trying his hardest to strum along and get some sort of semblance of a melody during their instrumental, but it did sound awful! Despite my previous comments about saying sorry, Mark should have apologised! I, however, will not apologise for my double standards when it comes to saying sorry advice. Still more eager floor acts followed, this time in the shape of local hero ‘Stetson’ Stan. He sang a clever little number called Super Horse. The 7th and final spot was the Band again.

With vocals so similar to the man’s, it was no surprises when Gillan played a Guthrie number. It was his first after the break, and was I Ain’t Got No Home. The song is a true great, and to be fair, Gillan did it proud. After some tuning, Robin performed a travelling song, then a couple of Scottish tunes by ‘Scotland’s most famous violinist- Hector MacAndrew’. The tunes were played well on fiddle, and I liked the way Gillan would start the song sitting, rise to his feet during the tune, and finish sitting down again.

What I didn’t like was the time spent tuning up. I know it has to be done, especially after hearing Mark’s fiddle, but due to time twiddling tuning keys, it took over 20 minutes to play 3 short songs. I’m sure you can purchase small electronic tuners to stick on the end of the instrument- Phil Beer certainly had one! If a less forgiving audience were present, people would have been moaning.

Well, Robin invited up the beautiful Brona McVittie, of the London Lasses and the Woodlarks, to join him on stage. They sang in a lovely harmony The Wind and the Rain, a song I’d first heard Martin Simpson play. Brona took on the vocals for Hares on the Mountain, which also sounded wonderful, after which she made way for the next guest Tom Paley. Sticking with the leporidae theme, he and Gillan played Little Rabbit, a decently long instrumental, followed by a short vocal verse at the end. This was followed by a good instrumental by Gillan, and an abrupt end to the evening’s entertainment! I called out for more, but none followed.

However, what does follow is Travelling Folk at the Junction Inn, Groombridge. Looking forward to seeing you there. Mark.

2009-04-14T11:09:00.000-07:00

Gig 13 Geoff Higginbottom. 2nd April 2009
Anchor Folk Club
Blue Anchor Public House
High Road
KT14 7RL

Attendance: 60
Price: £5
My Location: 4th row

Record Recommendation: Shattered Cross: Stuart Adamson.

Watching The Raphaels’ video is almost putting a tear of sadness in my eye. It’s a collage of photos taken from Guthrie’s 1930s Great Depression, black and white video footage, and most poignantly of all, stills of a young Adamson, full of life with his friends and band-mates from Big Country; played to the sound track of Shattered Cross. I know that most of you readers watch the Transatlantic Sessions, and it was on series 3 that I first heard Shattered Cross. Darrell Scott explains how his friend, Stuart Adamson, had penned the song in the last years of his short life while living in Nashville Tennessee. Accompanied by Paul Brady and the Sessions’ House Band, Scott proceeds to do exactly what he said he wanted to, “bring the song to life”.

Before his death, brought on by an alcohol overdose, Adamson had suffered mentally from break up of his marriage. Scott explains that the song describes the state Stuart was in when he wrote the song; it’s about redemption, loss; the loss of trust. As the song progresses, it draws you into the world of Adamson’s darkest thoughts. It leaves you, like the Cross; shattered. The effort taken to put those words on paper sums up Stuart Adamson, when I saw him on stage, he always let you know you what you were seeing: The Man. There was no faking it; he had energy, an unmistakable guitar riff, song-writing talent, a natural ability to get a 10 thousand strong crowd roaring and clapping to his songs. Most of all he had passion for what he was doing.

Stuart Adamson playing it the only way he knew. Photo courtesy corbis.com

Back in ’01 when I heard of the death of an icon, I felt a part of my youth slipping away. I’d spent so many hours listening to Big Country, not to mention Sweet Suburbia by the Skids, and it was all over. But it’s not, the memories are still there, the albums still get played, the Restless Natives DVD is still available. The writer has gone, and taken his earthly burdens with him, his songs are still alive, and non-more so when Darrell Scott breathes fire into Stuart Adamson’s Shattered Cross.

Well, believe it or not, good followers of this blog, and those of you who were looking for the Folk Roots Forum that I’m told has a “comprehensive list of folk tours and festivals”, I’m half way through my year long venture to discover where real musicians are playing, who’s seeing them, where they are performing, and what the quality is like. I know many of the gigs I’ve been to have cost a fiver or less, but if you’re going to make the effort to get down to your local club, and pay to see an act, I don’t think it’s wrong to expect a reasonable standard of entertainment.

It’s hardly surprising that the quality of the acts has varied, Phil Beer, for example has played the Royal Albert Hall, and Bob Fox and Stu Luckley’s album Nowt So Good’ll Pass, won Folk Album of the Year back in ’78, so you’d expect those artists to put on a decent show! Most of the musicians I’ve seen are part-timers- only the privileged few can earn a full time wage from their music. Mick Ryan, who played at the sold out Ram Club with Paul Downes, has been involved in composing numerous albums and written folk operettas; he still tops up his musician’s wage by working as a teacher. However, for the night they are on stage, these people aren’t teachers, or delivery drivers or librarians; they are musicians, and I haven’t felt short-changed yet!

The Folk Clubs I’ve visited are institutions of hard working volunteers who organise events for the love of the music, and the desire to keep a tradition alive. Indeed, many of them offer a sense of nostalgia and a welcome escape from the hectic environment that pervades society. Some even offer really cheap beer! There is more than one reason to visit and support these homegrown musical associations.

So, let’s turn to the latest “association” to be visited, The Blue Anchor Folk Club in Byfleet, to see how they compare to the rest……

I have visited the club a few times before, and done a couple of Woodcut Process songs with Biggs as a floor spot act, so was recognised by club host Mike Peach when I arrived. We were both surprised that it was over a year since my last visit though- where’s all the time going? Mike had read exerts from this blog, was keen to let his club members know about it, and asked if I’d like to let them know what I was up to. It was a very generous offer, and one I couldn’t refuse.

The venue started to fill up quickly, chairs had to be shifted, and spares brought in to accommodate the audience. Apparently the annual visit from Geoff Higginbottom is a club highlight, drawing a larger than usual crowd. The said crowd were very lively, friendly, and anticipating a great night, which started with Mike and guitar being greeted with cheers as he sang Dylan’s If Not For You. A banjo playing Jim joined Mike for the Adventures of Tim Finnegan’s Wake. The two made way for Mike Davis who played Three Drunken Maidens. It was an enjoyable tune, played well and sung with a good voice.

Mike made way for Geoff, who started off his set with an unaccompanied shanty called Hullabaloo, which was about the agonies of a seasick fisherman. The lady next to me had been telling me earlier that Geoff had a powerful voice. Higginbottom lived up to his reputation as he sang the song with one of the loudest set of vocal chords I had heard, he had no problem projecting his un-amplified range to the whole crowd. With 12 string guitar in hand, Geoff proceeded to sing Alesia Byabrew. The song is about a lady who is pleasing to the eye, leading astray the song’s protagonist, a common theme in folk songs. I think there’s many a writer out there living in hope! I was really enjoying the music, and that voice was one you really wanted to sing along with.

Robin Dransfield’s Fair Maids of February, which Higginbottom described as “nice”, was next. To call it “nice” is an understatement, it started with lovely guitar, and had the audience captured. Paddy’s Not at Work was next, followed by my favourite of the evening, Joseph Baker. The song about the eponymous Cheshire long distance runner is a Pete Coe creation that strikes a chord with me, as I indulge in a bit of running, and I used to live in Chester. The words make me picture the athlete running gracefully across the downs, effortlessly beating countrywide challengers ranging from the ranks of soldiers to butchers. I find it a touching tune that ends with the sad death of Joseph Baker, and his ghost that can be seen running on up the hills of his county.

Higginbottom showed off his guitar skills for Harvest Home, before picking up the mandolin for Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore. With a title like that, I expected to hear an “amusing” song. However, the song followed another popular theme- the one of leaving your home and promising to return to your love when the fortune was made. As Geoff said, ‘it’s promised by many, done by few’. I particularly enjoyed the light tones of the mando during the song.

As much a part of Higginbottom’s act as his singing and playing, is his between-songs entertaining. He interspersed introductions, with stories from his allotment, and a couple of half decent jokes- my favourite being the one about the ham-bush. You’ll have to see him for the full version; I can’t tell jokes- it probably wouldn’t even be funny if I wrote it down. He certainly pricked the interest of the audience whilst telling them of the true story of Bouncing Billy Barker, the hero of Tony Hill’s song that he played. In 1992 The Manchester Evening News reported Barker, who died aged 84 in 1965, could jump and ‘skim’, like a stone, across canals using hand weights that gave him momentum. I’m sure people of the time believe they saw him doing these leaps, but I’m also sure that one of Newton’s Laws mentions the equal and opposite reactions that would render his skimming impossible! Anyways, everyone enjoyed the song, and some read the extract from the News that Geoff brought along. Thus ended the first set.

After the break, Chris Harris continued the good humour with his ukulele-strummed tribute to the Blue Anchor’s special guest. I tell you what, it was a well written song, with some classic comic rhyming that fitted the theme. Higginbottom genuinely appreciated it! He hit the stage with Lloyd George, a moving song about a grateful farm labourer, just turn pensioner who was one of the first to benefit from the PM’s new pension scheme. This was followed by All the Good Times are Past and Gone. With the 60 strong audience joining in, the atmosphere was more Gospel Church than Surrey Folk, it was great sing-along stuff.

Almost as good as Joseph Baker, Higginbottom played Richard Thompson’s Vincent Black Lightning next. The first time I’d heard the song was on an old Dick Gaughan tape, and I loved it then. The song’s about rebellion, freedom, and young love; too good to last it ends in the tragic death of Vincent’s rider (there's a lot of dying in this blog!). It really is a solid tune; the fact that it mentions Box Hill makes it even more special. Mind you, Where the Conkers Grow, which followed, like Vincent Black Lightening had soul. Geoff’s traditional sounding voice made this a cracking song too. In a great evening those three songs were, for me, the greats.

After all the soul searching, further tales lightened the atmosphere. This time for the song Monkey Hangers: this one I believe to be a true story. It’s about the people of Hartlepool hanging a monkey they believed to be a French spy during the Napoleonic Wars. Because it couldn’t speak English, and looked “a bit foreign”, the people who found it assumed it to be on an intelligence gathering mission, for the French Emperor, about that strategic keystone, Hartlepool! The best part of the story, Geoff told us, is that 200 years later, the man who dressed up as Hangus the Monkey, the town’s football team’s mascot, was elected as Lord Mayor. I know this is true because it was on Radio 5 Live!

The penultimate song of the evening was Geoff’s third verse of Bob Marley’s No Woman No Cry, which is entitled No Rum and No Pies. I enjoyed the song; it would have been good if Geoff had sung a cover of No Woman though, I reckon he could do a fine job of it. For the encore, we were treated to Richard Thompson’s Meet on the Ledge, which has recently been voted number 17 in Radio 2’s top 100 listeners’ songs, which, with audience participation, brought back that ole Gospel feel.

Mike thanked Higginbottom for his excellent entertainment after the song. As I was about to leave, thinking that in the performance, he’d forgotten about my folk tour, Mike asked me to tell the crowd about my mission. I did so, and when I told them why I was doing what I was, I received a round of applause. Thank you all very much for that, and for a great night out. I look forward to returning in the near future.

As the second half of the Tour starts, I feel that it is really starting to gain momentum. This I hope to carry on at Islington Folk Club on 16th April when I watch Robin Gillan. See you there, Mark.

2009-04-02T15:59:00.000-07:00

Gig 12 Dean Tainio. 19th March 2009
Orpington Folk Club
The Change of Horses
Farnborough High Street
BR6 7BB

Attendance: 30
Price: £4
My Location: Back row

Record Recommendation: The Boatman: The Levellers.

Hi, I was reminded of my youth, sunny student days, and learning the ‘kit’ whilst watching Dean Tainio on Thursday. And of one of the songs that, for me, epitomises why we bother to make music. The Boatman contains many of the ingredients that make up the recipe for the perfect song (notice I’m sitting on the fence a bit? “one of the songs”, not the song, and “many of the ingredients”, not all of the ingredients). There’s only one perfect song, and in a later blog I’ll give a totally unbiased resume of why it is perfect! What The Boatman does have is a fine rhythm, an air of dissatisfaction, a longing, and a simple set of descriptive lyrics.

I suppose the song’s lack of complication makes it accessible to a wide audience, including students learning to play the drums on an electric kit. A housemate of mine, Jepson, fancied himself as a bit of a guitarist and singer- to be fair he had quiet a powerful voice, and wasn’t afraid to belt out the words. The Boatman was a song he used to play, and I would attempt to accompany on the very fake sounding kit I learned my trade on. I had never heard the proper version of the song before, so if a listener, who was familiar with the original, had been ‘treated’ to a rendition of our music alone, he might not have recognised it as The Boatman. Just add the words though, and you’ve got a song that is recognisable, enjoyable, and can be covered and interpreted by the next band of roaming students, garage bands, or folk singers alike.

The Boatman appeals on many levels; what I like about it is that you can almost feel the open air, and the escape from the 24hr consumerism that we are all told will lead to a more satisfying life, the shallowness that is the media who tell us that what ‘celebrities’ do is important, to the calmness and freedom that the song yearns for. The Levellers, in their wisdom don’t tell you how to get your freedom- if they did, that would make them equal to the producers of X Factor generation- but they do leave the tiniest kernel of inspiration that might make some realise that there is more to life than The Apprentice.

I’ve wondered a couple of times recently whether or not I should invest in a sat-nav. I’m a cartographer by trade so know how to read, and prefer the wider picture the paper map provides. However, visiting the Orpington Folk Club in Farnborough would probably have been easier if I’d had the nice lady telling me which direction to take. It’s not that the Change of Horses is difficult to find; it’s that I didn’t realise it was in the other Farnborough! When I arrived, three of the club organisers, Ted, Steve and Anne were in the middle of an instrumental on electric accordion, guitar, and flute and money collecting respectively. I threw myself into a seat after the hectic drive, spilled half my black-current and soda in the process, and made my excuses to the gent sitting next to me. He had an artistic air about him, which wasn’t that surprising really as I found out 15 minutes later when he took the stage, he was non other than Dean Tainio.

Although it’s the longest running folk club in the area, the guys at Orpington aren’t a-feared of modern technology. As well as the aforementioned accordion; the likes of which I didn’t even know existed, the musicians were all fully amped with a well set up system, and Anne was sporting a headphone mic of the type Madonna would be proud to be seen in; the first time I’d seen this technology put to good use in a club of its small size. The three next played Liverpool Lou, followed by Queen of Belfast City. The music leant itself to producing a relaxed atmosphere which didn’t put people off clapping or singing along, indeed, the club felt very inclusive and informal. There was even some good quality heckling- instantly put down by the compares though!

The three gave way to the next floor spot act, which was Norman with his bodhran. As a drummer, I always appreciate a bit of percussion, and I think that the bodhran is underrepresented, and in some cases undervalued, on the scene. Ok, if it is unsubtly played, it can be over bearing, however, good folk, have some faith in your local drummer, and you’ll soon be enjoying the depth a well played bodhran adds to a tune. A good tip for budding singers demonstrated, by Norman, was to play the key he would sing in on the whistle first to tune his ear. If you ever see the Woodcut Process perform their version of Dick Gaughin’s version of Murphey and Quattro’s Geronimo’s Cadillac, after the drum intro the observant will see Biggs strum a single chord. The reason he does this is the same as Norman playing his whistle. Anyway, Norman proceeded to sing good renditions of Spencer the Rover and Sandy Denny’s It Suits Me Well. The song’s theme is pretty similar to The Boatman, I really enjoyed hearing it and thought that the bodhran complimented the tune well.

Next floor spot artist was club regular, Robin. He dared to talk about the weather, received agro from the audience, and introduced Bread and Fishes, Alan Bell’s popular song about Joseph’s pilgrimage to St Michael’s Mount. Robin did say walking songs, which includes Bread and Fishes, are set in spring or the month of May; he can’t have heard November Road yet. Next he sang The Irish Ballad by Tom Lehrer, which was well received by the crowd.

Dean was up next, and he opened with a couple of gentle ballads. These were sung in clear tones, accompanied by some fine guitar work. Next was the now well discussed The Boatman, which I couldn’t resist singing along with- it’s such a great song. Dean strummed it very simply, his style giving the song an even more raw quality. An upbeat version of Dougie MacLean’s Feel So Near had the crowd singing along, clapping and tapping their feet. The bodhran of Norman could be heard playing along too! It was great to see the audience warming, and enjoying the music.

The Lakeman effect hit us next with Dean singing The White Hare. It is always a pleasure to hear this modern song based on the traditional theme of being bewitched by the beautiful lady. She comes in a variety of forms- a Siren in the sea, a bird of some sort, or in this case, the eponymous White Hare. As Lakeman has penned “be careful if you catch her”. I really enjoyed hearing the song, and Tainio covered it well. We were treated to some fine guitar playing with an instrumental next. I thought Dean played the tune a little bit too quickly, however, who cares what I think when members of the audience were giving it who-oops of appreciation!

Throughout the first set, I had been impressed by the singing voice of the gent sitting next to me, who sang along with a lot of the songs. My ear for a good voice must have been in tune that night because Dean invited him- John- up to accompany him for a couple of tracks. John sang Will You Meet Me on Claire Island, with a lovely Scottish accented voice. The two performing together made a really big sound. Dean and John complimented each other well on When I’ve Been on the Road so Long, especially when Dean added a harmony in the chorus. The set was rounded of with a particularly energetic version of John Martyn’s Over the Hill. The first half did fly by.

I enjoyed a pint of Harvey’s Best during the break, bought a raffle ticket, which won me a bottle of wine, and had a chat with Steve- one of the organisers. He told me of the changing fortunes of the club. Back in 2005 they used to attract large numbers each week, where as now, the recession was hitting their audience figures. I did compliment him on the warm atmosphere of the club and the enthusiasm of the organisers. I also managed a quick word with Dean, and was most surprised when he told me that this was his first solo gig. I had spotted a couple of signs of nerves, I have to admit, but as I said to him, I would never have suspected!

While we were chatting, the organiser’s band, joined by second accordion player, Ivan, played the lively Lilting Fisherman and The Leinster Jig. Then, for the second time that evening, Robin was up and singing his stuff before making way for Dean’s second set, which he started on the mandolin. Dean played a couple of John Martyn songs, including a totally honest version of May You Never, followed by his interpretation of Robert Tannahill’s Gloomy Winter. Dean was starting to get warmed up again now and played some good guitar on this one. It was followed by Martin Simpson’s classic, it’s only about 3 years old, but I’m sure I won’t cause offence by putting it in the category of the classic, Never Any Good. From my back row position, I provided backing!

Like I am, many people are fond of the murder ballad, an example being Robin’s much-appreciated Irish Ballad. The majority are written of a bygone era and can be enjoyed as there is so much separation from the events. Tainio followed Never Any Good with a tune about an ill fated ‘have a go hero’ who stood up to the local youths and paid the ultimate price. It was a lovely melancholy song that I really liked; not in the way I like a murder ballad, the song was too real for that, more so in the way some of the Trenches songs hold you in their tragic lament.

Even though Dean’s set was going well, I could tell that the nerves were setting in again, caused, I think, by problems he had tuning the mandolin. I can tell you the stage is a lonely place; and I normally perform as at least a duo. So what Dean did in calling up John again was like pulling that lucky seven from up his sleeve. Having the calming effect of the soft voiced Scottish fellow singing This Love Will Carry Me refocused Tainio, and soothed the audience. The number had couples folding their arms around each other and gazing into the partner’s eyes. Good tune boys, and good use of the guest Dean.

It wasn’t too long ago that The Woodcut Process were suffering a similar, but worse loss of confidence. We weren’t having the best of times on stage- mainly due to Biggs having erected the tent we were playing in- it was an outdoor gig, set up the sound system, wired everything up, sound checked all the bands that were playing that day, and re-erected the tent after a torrent of rain nearly washed it away! From my position at the bar I was totally unaware that the lad was under so much stress. Luckily we had Jones guesting for us that day. Jones is a perfectionist, and he has been known to let a sloppy musician know what he thinks of them during a live performance. Biggs and I were so terrified of upsetting him that we pulled our act together for Jones’ cameo, and managed to keep it going for the rest of our act.

John (and Jones at the Woodcut's gig) departed to warm applause. Tainio completed the set with a great rendition of Mike Scott’s Wonderful Disguise, and another John Martyn number. The final song of the evening had Dean going full steam ahead, strumming powerfully to Galway Girl. An encore followed- a controversial little number about the trouble caused by those people who aren’t men!

Before leaving, I spoke to accordion player and club organiser Ted. He was very proud, and rightly so, of the club. He told me of some of the famous acts that had played at the small club, including Blowzabella, and the legendary Steve Tilston. Ted’s own band Triality had also graced to stage at one time or another too. As he was saying to me, many other clubs had sadly folded in recent years. I think the secret to Orpington’s success was making people feel at ease and welcome, dedicated organisers, and booking solid acts to entertain. I had a great night, enjoyed Dean Tainio’s performance, and will try and get back soon with Biggs for a singers’ evening.

Oh, they were giving out flyers, but I don’t believe it! After all my socialising during the interval, and clutching my bottle of wine on the departure I forgot to pick one up! Don’t worry though; my road hasn’t reached a dead end. I picked up a copy of Folk London a couple of days later, and the first gig that I found was Geoff Higginbottom at the Blue Anchor Folk Club in Byfleet on 2 April. I will see you there (how many Byfleets are there?). Mark

2009-03-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

Gig 11 Barber and Taylor. 7th March 2009
The Open House
Springfield Road
Brighton BN1 6BZ

Attendance: 50
Price: £5
My Location: Back row

Record Recommendation: Sugar Mice: Marillion.

Picture the scene: it’s 4 o’clock on Friday in a bar. The lounge feels big because it’s empty except for the barman polishing glasses, a fellow who’s been drinking all day because that’s what he does, two other guys- not together but both smartly dressed- straight out of the office, one of whom drinks his beer a bit too quickly, and a 3 piece band setting up in the corner. The attention of one of the office workers is on his paper. The other two strangers at the bar are immersed in their thoughts, gazing out the window, occasionally casting an inquisitive glance at the band. The musicians quietly and methodically go about the business of assembling the kit, and are soon ready to sound check.

At the first harmonica notes, the thought-full suit is captured. Guitar and the click of cross-sticks on the snare have the barman and drunk listening. Vocals singing lyrics about better days and fading dreams have the reader pushing the news aside and turn his attention to the group. The song was The River, not Sugar Mice, and the band was The Woodcut Process, not Marillion, but the picture could have been painted from the words of the magnificent Sugar Mice.

The song is a wonderful harmony of flawless vocals and lyrics that tell a tale of regret, relationship breakdown, and something people these days seem to spend a lot of their time avoiding- taking responsibility! The build up of the song mirrors the anger and frustration felt by the protagonist at his weakness and inability to hold his family together. Although not shirking responsibility, the singer says “we’re just sugar mice in the rain”. It is a line that invokes a realisation that we are all potential victims of human frailty.

When he retired from Marillion, Fish left a tough act to follow- it’s an understatement to say that was an understatement (I think that makes sense). In my humble opinion, they’ve never quite hit the same vein since Steve Hogarth took over as front man, talented though he is. More likely is that they’ve become a different band that I don’t like as much as the original- it happens in rock ‘n’ roll. However, it’s up to him to input his ideas, and forge the best way forward for the band. As he was doing so, Hogarth must have spotted the genius that lifts Sugar Mice above a back catalogue of material that would have most signers salivating over. On the live Piston Broke album, it is the only Fish era song that he sings. And boy does he sing it; he doesn’t hold back. I’m sure that when Fish heard this version he rested easy, knowing his tune was in safe hands.

Sugar Mice is a song I’d love to play, but I don’t know if it’s of the style the Woodcuts could ever emulate- that’s not to say that behind closed doors we wouldn’t give it a blast. It’s not a song that can be reeled out. Unless we were confident that we were giving it the respect it deserves, as Hogarth does, we would leave it in the rehearsal room. The thing is, some tunes should just be left alone.

Returning to our opening scene, and the parade of lonely drinkers: it could have been any of the patrons of the bar Sugar Mice was sung about. Indeed, the band setting up were not immune to the condition that make us all potential “sugar mice in the rain” either.

Well, how was Brighton? It was my first visit to that seaside town, and like most other visitors, found it a thoroughly pleasant experience. My dinner was a delicious homemade affair bought from the Kemp Town Deli, that made the sausage roll I bought pre packed tasteless, even though it was a premium brand!

On my way to the Open House, I stopped for a beer at a hostelry that was for ‘ladies only’. I realised this too late as I made myself comfortable at the bar, and as I’m British, I didn’t want to make a scene by leaving. However, I must say I didn’t get the cold shoulder or get ignored; more than I can say for a lot of other pubs I’ve frequented. The bar also sold St Peter’s Ale- enough said.

After making light work of the ale- St Peter’s always seems to evaporate before my eyes- and receiving a call from Biggs to say he is now resident again in the UK, I made my way to the Open House. The pub impressed me- it’s not small, and its high ceiling and low lighting made it feel very spacious. The house music in the main bar was a bit too loud for my elderly ears. I found refuge in the rear alcove where I admired the contemporary artwork, which included a collection of radiators arranged in a collage, before going upstairs for the entertainment.

A very friendly money collector, and Kevin Barber, laying out tea light candles, putting out the chairs, and sorting the air conditioning greeted me! That’s what life is like in the music industry. Barber and Taylor had support that evening in the shape of Richard and Ron, playing tea chest bass, and guitar and mandolin respectively. This was the first time I’d heard the tea chest bass live, and thought it was a super instrument. What really surprised me were the range of notes that can be produced, and the deep bass tones. When I had a practise with Wilson, the Woodcut Process bass player a couple of days later, I was encouraging him to purchase such an instrument; he hasn’t bowed to my pressure yet, but it’s only been 1 week!

Ron and Richard opened with a competent version of Tom Paxton’s The Last Thing on My Mind, followed by Willie Nelson’s Funny How Time Slips Away, which they made look simple. Richard showed off his fine vocal range, as well as a bit of verve on The Blues ain’t nothing but a Good Man Feeling Bad. For the second time in a month, Lol George’s Willin’ was played. It’s a great song so it is no surprise when I hear it being covered- I’ve seen Dave Sharpe, as well as Phil Beer perform it. Ron and Richard’s version was very different from both, but it was a great interpretation, and that tea chest added a fine touch of character to an already personality-filled tune.

My favourite Richard and Ron song was Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come. Like Willin’ it is a wonderful song, but unlike Willin’ I had never heard it live before. Perhaps bands think other bands play it, and therefore avoid A Change is Gonna Come. But other bands don’t play a song that I think should be heard more. A Jimmy Roger’s Yodelling song was next, followed, also by a song I’d last heard performed by Phil Beer, JJ Cale’s Cocaine. They played it in a more orthodox method to Beer, to finish off what was a fine support act.

Kevin Barber acknowledged Richard and Ron’s performance at the start of the main act by saying, “we’ll really have to raise our game to follow that one”, before opening with Going Over Jordan. The powerful guitar gave extra dimension to the traditional Gospel song, which made it sound great. The driving guitar was followed by melodic notes for Taylor’s Sweet Marie, which has the ‘Acoustic Americana’ feel they describe the genre of their music as. The next couple of tunes, including Pennies from Heaven, demonstrated the guitar driven sound that defines their songs. The murder ballad Dearest Jane was announced; with the bad news that this would be the only murder song to be played that evening. A shame, I thought- there’s nothing like a good murder ballad to cheer you up. The lack of songs of this type was made up by the quality of Dearest Jane. It was a toe-tapping, mandolin bashing, vocal chord stretching, darkly cheerful song about revenge.

Barber and Taylor appeared to be of a very different nature. Where as Barber is gregarious, Taylor seemed more thoughtful and taciturn. However, their opposing characters lead to some pretty good in-between-songs banter that the audience appreciated. No more so than before Victim of Desire when Taylor announced we were going to be hit with the double whammy of harmonica and banjo! Of course the instruments were played to perfection.

I enjoyed Working on the Railway, a song about prejudice, before being treated by Broken Flower, an emotionally sung Spanish lyric-ed number. Before the break we were treated to a medley with excellent musicianship of Folsom Prison, and Mystery Train. On my most recent visit to Folsom- my brother lives there (in the town, not the prison)- I decided to visit the prison museum, which is within the perimeter, but not the walls of the prison estate, to get a feel for the establishment immortalised by Cash. Even though it’s no longer maximum security, and doesn’t hold death-row inmates- they are in the nearby California State Prison, it is still an imposing structure, surrounded by high walls built by earlier inmates. In the tranquillity of the

garden in which the museum stands there is still an oppressive atmosphere. The exhibitions of weapons made by prisoners to use on each other hold a ghoulish grip on the visitor. As the curator, who used to be a warden, said when I asked why weight training inside had been banned, she said in an unforgiving tone “the place is full of bad men, and they don’t change”. I cannot comment on whether it’s an opinion endorsed by the American penal system.

What was I on about? Oh yes, it was interval time, and I had a chat with the ‘money collector’ about the quality of the evening’s songs, the full house, and the lack of murder ballads- we didn’t dwell on that topic ‘cause we’d both thought the first set was great fun. As I was in ‘geek mode’ though I did recommend her listen to Country Death Song by the Violent Femmes. It’s a cheerful little number about someone who chucks his daughter down a well. If they don’t already, I think that the tune would be perfect for Barber and Taylor to cover, as it is acoustic Americano bluegrass.

The second set started with a new self written blues song, so new in fact that Barber forgot the words! This was followed by another new track of theirs A Dangerous Game, about two brothers in the English Civil War. It was a tense song that explored the relationships within a family where conflicting ideology drives them apart. Three cover versions were next, starting with Guthrie’s Vigilante Man. I respect the band for putting their own slant this classic; it was a little up beat for me though. A mellow, with harmony, ballad version, of Ring of Fire was next. The song was sung with tones of regret- I do approve of this sort of well-produced despondency. A blues interpretation of Heard it Through the Grapevine with fine mandolin and strong guitar throughout impressed. I would not have been surprised if Barber and Taylor had gone on to play the Creedence Clearwater Revival’s 13 minute version of the song; personally I wouldn’t have minded!

A change of theme followed. This time it was about medieval sex desires with the Love of Daisy. The song is an intriguing number set against the historical background of the politics of knights and nobles. Barber and Taylor then unleashed Old Walking Blues, and Walking The Dog, before playing Jackson Browne’s The Barricades of Heaven. The song featured some quite outstanding guitar as well as strong vocals. For the encore, a really distinctive version of Hank William’s I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry was performed. What a way to round off the evening!

The whole Brighton experience was a cracking one, with the band distinguishing themselves with their performance. Go and see Barber and Taylor, they are appearing, and rightly so, at numerous festivals around the area. Check their website for details.

As I left the Open House, I searched for a flyer to guide me to the next destination on this web of related folk clubs. All of my looking was, once again in vain, and I had to go home flyerless. It’s a good thing I’ve got my Around Kent Folk mag to direct me. On Thursday 19th March, I’ll be visiting the Orpington Folk Club to see Dean Taiuio.

I’m looking forward to seeing Dean, you, and some flyers there. Mark.

2009-02-28T05:48:00.000-08:00

Gig 10 Trotwood. 20th February 2009
Seaford Folk Club
Beachcomber
Dane Road
Seaford BN25 1DX

Attendance: 60
Price: Donations
My Location: Back row!

Record Recommendation: Talkin’ Bout a Revolution: Tracy Chapman.

I’ve heard it all now! On a news bulletin it was announced that Ryan Air are considering charging customers to use the toilet facilities on their flights. Apparently these are a ‘luxury’. In their “bid to drive down costs for all passengers”, Ryan Air may take a fee for using the loo. One of the few things that annoy me- I find the list of annoyances, like my age, seems to be on an irreversible trend of upward- are companies who dress up money making policies as ones which are beneficial to the punter. Someone has worked out that Ryan Air can make more money by lowering fares (probably not increasing them more like) and charging for the use of the facilities- which are, let’s face it a basic human need. If the change wouldn’t make a profit, they wouldn’t even consider the policy. I most sincerely thank the benevolent Ryan Air for being so considerate to its customers!

As for charging people to use public toilets, that is a scandal of the highest order too. There is a public convenience in my hometown of Weston Super Mare, on the edge of Grove Park, which used to be maintained by two ladies. Between them, they kept the place sparkling, well stocked with cakes of soap, and freshly cut flowers in vases, and had piped music playing to relax you while you went about your business (I haven’t used it for a while so things may have changed, in case you visit and are disappointed with the experience). When you visited, you could feel the sense of pride the ladies took in keeping their loo clean. On the way out was a bowl for donations, which I felt happy to contribute to.

However, the same cannot be said of the facilities at Waterloo Station. As the venue of the majority of our busking ventures- Waterloo Station, not the loo at Waterloo- both Lambert and I are regular users. Where as Lambert has resigned himself to paying the 30 pence!! fee, I refuse to bow to the injustice of having to pay. The turnstile has a bit of play in it, so you can pull it toward you and slip through the widened gap it creates. You can then enjoy what I think is everyone’s right, the free of charge toilet!

I was reminded how great Talkin’ Bout a Revolution is on the chartered coach from ski resort to airport at the end of a recent holiday. The driver was playing a surprisingly fine collection of tracks from a CD that he must have compiled himself; I haven’t seen an album with those tracks in any store. When we were caught by the opening bars of Talkin’ Bout over the system, my companion Hollis (who should know better as he is a part time DJ) and I were racking our brains as to who the artist was. Hollis suggested Dylan, but I recognised the song as more contemporary- for me 1988 is modern!

When Tracy Chapman’s unmistakable vocals broke in, it was obvious what the song was. The thing that is not obvious to many, is that it is Chapman’s song- the lyrics have the feel of having been lived in, like they’ve been around for a while. When I heard the song for the first time, I was surprised that it was Chapman’s original- I am a real cynic when it comes to good music. If I hear a great tune from a new artist, I find myself checking the back-catalogue to see if it’s a cover. Sadly to say more often than not, if it’s good, it’s a cover.

Not in the case of Talkin’ Bout a Revolution. Chapman sings about starting a quiet revolution, and about fairness and getting rid of poverty and the injustice that accompanies it. It sounds as if it’s the song Dylan inherited off Guthrie, it really is that good, of that flavour, and of that quality.

The great thing about the tour I’m on is that I have no choice of where the road will take me. Throw in the crazy world of folk and I need to “expect the unexpected” “be prepared” “baton down the hatches” have strings in my bow, feathers in my cap, nails in my coffin, and any number of other clichés written for raising the spirits one can think of. If it wasn’t for this tour, I would never have gone to see a French family play Irish folk music, let alone drive for a couple of hours to get there! But that is what I did when I went to see Trotwood at Seaford Folk Club.

Club nights for Seaford Folk take place in the conservatory of the Beachcomber Pub. The Beachcomber is in a prime location on Dane Road, on the seafront. I was very impressed with the bar- it was one of the longest I’ve seen for some time! The place was a bit run down though, and due I hear, for demolition. Not much incentive then to refurbish the place and turn it into the thriving business I’m sure it could be. If you’re new to the area, don’t be put off by the outward appearance; a warm welcome will greet you into the club.

Seaford was the friendliest club I’ve visited so far. The evidence for the why the place is so welcoming, has been gathered scientifically on my tour! They are, I consider: the small(ish) room, the layout of the tables- you have to sit close to people, which encourages interaction, and, most importantly, the openness and affability of the organisers. The club also admits children, which changes the dynamic of the evening- some may not enjoy it, but the fact they were present at this gig- performing and being inspired I’m sure- was a positive. I expect that this year, I will take young Morris- the son of a friend- to see some folk. He’s just getting to the age where he will appreciate what’s happening, and may even decide to learn an instrument, or how to dance and carry on the tradition. The lad has seen The Woodcut Process, and says they are his favourite band- the honesty of children is a wonderful gift!

Back to the organisers of the evening- John Cave had been expecting me, knew I was in a band, and asked if I wanted to sing as a floor spot. I politely declined, although I am starting to think it’s about time I learned to strum at least one of The Woodcut’s tracks and play it when I can. I will, I admit be a poor-man’s version, but it will give people a flavour of the band’s material.

The venue was starting to fill up, and John and his “assistant” for the evening Roger graciously collected extra chairs from the bar for all to sit on. They then started proceedings with and instrumental- John on guitar and Roger playing accordion. Next they played Froggy Went a Courting. It was good to hear people singing along- it’s a simple song and lends itself to being accompanied. John took his leave to let Roger sing No John. This was the first time I had heard properly how the shrewd character of the tune turns the lady’s No Johns into an affirmation to marriage. Roger then played and appropriately rustic version of Ring a Ring a Rosie.

Pearl and Collin were next, singing acappello Bring us a Barrel, followed by It’s all Gone Away. It was at this point that all the lights went, as Roger dimmed them enhance the cosy feel of the place. Floor acts were coming thick and fast now- Steve Dodd up next singing Gallows Tree. I really enjoyed this as Steve sang well, and I have a soft spot for the darker tune! Stuart and Denise Savage followed with Maggie May (trad version), and a cracker of a tune about a lumberjack in New Brunswick called the Ballad of Peter Emberly.

After all this entertainment, Trotwood made an appearance! Trotwood are a family act boasting three generations, playing at least three musical styles, on accordion, concertina, flute, banjo, cello, fiddle, guitar, penny whistle, and harp- yes harp, not harmonica. Christmas at their place must be insane! Right from the off they had the audience clapping along with an Irish waltz. This was followed by Yellow Red and Blue, and Castle of Dromore. When the whole family sang, the vocalisation was lovely, as was the harmony they put in.

The family’s appreciation of the English language was excellent. The father did most of the introducing, with Grandpa and mum explained a few as well. Indeed it was the said matriarch who introduced King of Fleisch. The song was about the head of a state in historic Ireland, who due to the small population of his subjects couldn’t raise many taxes to pay a large army. To deter invasion, he ordered his musicians to compose a fearful marching tune that would terrify the enemy. The out come was a limping marching tune, and a generation or so later the throne of Ireland. The ensuing march that Trotwood played was excellent, they switched instruments half way through- whistle for fiddle, and harp for banjo- and provided a tremendous build up.

A change of tempo in the form of The Midnight Special was next. With Roger sitting next to me and singing lustily, not even I could resist joining in with the song I had first been made aware of on an old Creedence Clearwater Revival LP. Although not really my cup of tea, the family then played Does Your Chewing Gum Lose its Flavour, which got some enthusiastic members of the crowd dancing! Although they were part of Trotwood’s “rent-a-mob”, it was great to see them twirling and skipping to the song!

During the interval, I had a good chat about all things folk with the floor singer Steve Dodd. He told me of the thriving scene around the South Coast area, which included several music, and a couple of Morris Dance clubs he had belonged to. It was good to talk to someone who had an excellent appreciation of the local scene, and he inferred that around there, the Morris scene was doing well, which is always good to hear.

Floor spots started off the second half with a local grandfather and grandson act of Noel and George. They sang Horsham Farming Lad, and Wellies. It was great to see George- about 12 or 13, strumming away and singing without a hint of embarrassment for the audience. Frank and Barbara were up next putting in a valiant effort of Matt Highland. Ray followed with a lowland ballad. Two thirds of Cornflower Blue, Chris, and Jill came after Ray. They played the self- written track Beside the Sea. I really enjoyed it, and to be honest, they were a cut above the average floor spot and played the song in a mellow relaxed manner. Grandpa Trotwood played fiddle for them on the Everly Brothers French song Let it be Me as the final floor spot song.

The Trotwood’s were soon attacking their instruments with vigour kicking off their second set with an instrumental, followed by Molly, Gentleman of Kent, and Tack of Barley. My favourite tune of the second half was Red is the Rose. The song is played to the same tune of the more famous Scottish You take the High Road, but instead of being about Loch Lomond, it’s about the lakes of Ireland. It’s a wonderful tune, and always good to hear. Trotwood then sang the Monkey Song, which was in a similar vein to Does Your Chewing Gum, before the youngest member of the band, not to be outdone by the local youth, sang I’ve Got Sixpence. Although she did look a bit self-conscious, she had a lovely voice and sang with great clarity.

During the penultimate song, I noticed the difference in playing styles between the youngest and oldest members of the band. Both were on fiddle for the toe-tapping Gold Ring Jig. The young ‘un was stroking like mad, with elbow up and down, and all over the place. Grandpa, meanwhile was economical with his strokes- the years making him a more wily protagonist of the instrument. The encore had everyone in the venue clapping along, and Roger accordion-ing away with the tune.

As I said cheerio to the organiser, John, he invited The Woodcut Process to play at Seaford. Biggs is back soon, so I don’t think it will be long before we take up the invite and restart our touring with a night at the most hospitable club I’ve been to yet! They even gave out flyers- the next leg of my tour is to The Open House, Brighton, on the 7th March, to see Barber and Taylor. I’m already looking forward to it.

Hope to see lots of fellow music fans there too. Mark.

What a Contrast

2009-02-21T02:23:00.000-08:00

What a Contrast. 18th February 2009
BBC Symphony Orchestra
Maida Vale Studios
Delaware Road
W9 2LG

Attendance: 200
Price: Free
My Location: front row

In contrast to the last folk gig I went to, where Phil Beer treated the crowd to a remarkable solo performance, on Wednesday, I attended a concert by about 60 times as many musicians in what was also a remarkable performance! Prior to this, I had never heard a live symphony. The thing that struck me when the orchestra had gathered themselves together, the first violinist had called order with an E note, and Michal Dworzynski conducted the ensemble into blowing, plucking, bashing, and bowing their respective instruments, was the multitude of sounds hitting me from all directions, all perfectly, as one would expect, in time!

It was an amazing spectacle to watch as well as hear. I would love to give the drums a go in an orchestra. As the hardest working member of all the bands I’ve played for!! the idea of sitting at the back of the gathering before me, listening to them graft away, and pretending to follow the music for 15 minutes, before rising dramatically and crashing the cymbals together in crescendo, then sitting down again for another round, appeals to me somewhat!

As well as the drums, eight double-bass players provided the rhythm. The one closest to the audience had a unique instrument. All of the others had regular volute shaped scrolls, but his was that of a carved skull or human head. I couldn’t tell precisely from my location, but it did stand out from the crowd. The musician was a stern looking fellow, fully in charge and confident in his position.

The hierarchy within the group made me have a quiet chuckle. I suppose to get the best out of that many people, there has to be some method of discipline. Music sheets were shared one between two. At a convenient time, one of the musicians had to get up, turn the page, sit down and resume playing within a beat. I expect it was the junior partner in the pair to whom this task fell; needless to say, carved scroll fellow didn’t do the turning!

As I left the studio when all was over, and made my way to the station, I was passed by a couple of cyclists dressed in the standard Symphony black outfits, with violin cases on their backs, pulling into a local pub; it must be a hard life being a professional musician. I didn’t join them, but stopped at the William IV on the Harrow Road and had a good larger, and a bad beer, which I exchanged for a good beer. Top tip- if you can, make sure you are there on Friday 13th March, Mick Jones (there’s only one) is playing a charity gig there with his band the Rotting Hill Gang. I’m away on the second leg of my Thames walk that weekend so can’t attend.

The show was a spectacle that I thoroughly enjoyed, and expect a repeat performance some time in the near future. I really enjoyed the Symphony Orchestra music but don’t worry- it won’t replace the folk or the rock. Next stop is only 2 days away, at the Seaford Folk Club to see Trotwood.

Cheers for now, Mark.

2009-02-15T09:29:00.000-08:00

Gig 9 Phil Beer. 7th February 2009
Footlights Folk Music
West Chiltington Village Hall
RH20 2PZ

Attendance: 110
Price: £10
My Location: front row

Record Recommendation: Proud Valley Boy: Martyn Joseph.

The next time someone complains to me about having to pay the TV license, I will invite them to watch a commercial channel until the mind numbing programme line up that encourages the brainless idolisation of “celebrities” makes them beg to be allowed to watch something of substance!

I’m not saying that everything on commercial channels is rubbish (Dave TV is pretty good), for a fulfilled life you can't watch 'brain in neutral' TV, or everything on the BBC is intellectually challenging. Take Horizon for instance. When I was a young undergrad, it used to be about hard science like plate tectonics and mountain building, or Rutherford’s atomic theory. These days it’s about “why thin people can’t get fat”, and “do aliens visit earth?”; hardly (not hard) science.

Anyway, to go back to my original point, one of my housemates was watching some nonsense about a group of wannabe models sharing an apartment, and how they wanted to become stars, before even she gave up and passed me the remote. I turned to BBC4 and was more than pleased with what was on- a new series of Transatlantic Session. I cracked open a larger- the new time makes it a bit too early to start on the Macallan- and made myself comfortable for the aural and visual feast that the show provides. Transatlantic Sessions is a fine show, which attracts many great stars of the folk world from both sides of the ocean. I particularly enjoyed Davy Spillane’s contribution. I’ve heard him play before- on Brian Adam’s unplugged version of Cuts Like a Knife, which influenced the Woodcut Process’ decision to cover it, but it’s the first time I have seen him. I don’t know why, but I expected him to be a lot older. And have smaller hands- he seemed to have an oversized pair- they were dancing up and down the whistle as you’d expect though. Anyway, what a show the Sessions are, and it was followed by Murray Lerner’s Festival! Programmes of this nature probably aren’t commercially viable- without licence payers’ money, they probably wouldn’t exist. Instead we’d all have to mindlessly watching some bloke who was on a reality programme once, showing us his medallion collection, his red with white leather interiored sports cars, before entertaining us by playing pool in his gaudy mansion.

As time relentlessly drags me to my middle age, it’s not very often that I hear a song that strikes me like the ones that used to drive me in my youth. In fact, the whole Martyn Joseph gig at Twickenham Folk club affected me like a gig hadn’t affected me for a long time. In an outstanding gig, the song that stood out, was Proud Valley Boy. The song unites Joseph’s patriotic Welsh roots with his awareness of injustice and social history. Proud Valley Boy is about a miner recalling the days when Mr Paul Robeson visited Wales in support of the oppressed coalface workers. Robeson, the son of a former slave, was intelligent, articulate, and on the side of justice; for this despised by the US government. During the Twickenham rendition, Joseph sang, “I hope Tiger Woods remembers your name”. A few months later at the QEH Theatre, Bristol, Joseph added Mr Obama’s to that of Tiger Woods’ during the tune. For me, it was a humbling experience to hear the future president being so directly associated with Robeson- a little remembered advocate of reform.

The song is not for the faint hearted, and I can understand why some Shirley Bassey fans objected to Joseph’s support slot on her tour; perhaps used to all the mediocrity we are subjected to these days, they felt uncomfortable with Martyn’s songs- they have substance. Proud Valley Boy explains how Robeson’s rich voiced rallying calls fired up Evan, a young miner at the time. After hearing the song being blasted out with every ounce of breath by Joseph, I too felt full of the fire that filled Evan’s belly!

At this point in my commentary, I must make an apology. The title of the blog states that I’ll be supporting “grass roots musicians”. To be fair, some of the artists I’ve seen have been grass roots; especially the floor spot acts. However, in the world of folk, you don’t get much less grass roots than Phil Beer, who I saw on Saturday. During the interval at the Beer gig, I was chatting to another fan who is a regular attendee at the Footlights Folk Club because of the organisation and the musicians who perform there. He had become so accustomed to seeing top class performers who were approachable and friendly, he said he now “only attends gigs where the artist is prepared to sign their CDs”. That comment could double up as my mission statement. I don’t want to use it as a slogan though, because it’s his, and his mission!

The West Chiltington village hall that hosts the Footlights, is not the most intimate of venues. This is because it is high ceiling-ed and spacious. It has good acoustics. It’s location serves numerous near-by villages so gigs held there are normally well attended. Before going into the hall, a couple of friendly locals said hello to me. When we were allowed in, I asked if I could sit at the front table they took, and was invited to join the conversation. I was told that Footlights had been around for about 14 years and in its time seen many great performances from lesser known, as well as famous artists.

The more folk gigs I attend, the more I realise the importance of Guinness in the proceedings. Trays full of the stuff was being taken back stage- it is good for you after all.

It wasn’t long before the warm up act took to the stage in the form of Jerry Page- the club organiser- on vocals, accompanied by Steve Winchester on acoustic and John Wigg on multi instruments. The first song was Between the Lines, which featured a nice fiddle line, followed by Flying Dreams. Jerry sang well in a subdued, Leonard Cohen type style. I was impressed by the confidence and skill they played with. After Flying Dreams, Jerry left the stage for Steve to take the vocals on the last song, the more lively sounding Ghosts. We all know Phil Beer is a very talented musician, vocalist, sailor….but to add to that list of skills, he is also a top sound-man! He was in charge of the sound, and his skills were called upon a couple of times to sort out the monitors. Phil dealt with the problems to a small round of applause!

Beer then swapped his soundman role for the one of main act. If anyone thought that Phil was not a multi-instrumentalist, the array of musical apparatus on the stage would have informed them otherwise. He had a mandolin, fiddle, and three guitars, and used them all. He opened up with a couple of toe-tappers to get the audience on board. Phil then played JJ Cale’s Cocaine in the style of a 12 year old Phil Beer performing it at his parent’s/ teachers’ evening. Beer tells a cracking story and is a true entertainer, however, in my humble opinion, the crowd weren’t very lively. I think it’s a middle-class thing to remain reserved at all costs!

Cocaine was followed by a medley, which Phil really seemed to enjoy playing, made up of Marriage Vow, Gwenapp, and Springsteen’s Factory. I don’t know if readers are aware that I am a fan of the Boss; it was great to hear Beer’s interpretation of Factory played on the fiddle. Phil swapped his regular acoustic for his small four stringed tenor guitar. He explained it was the “Lakeman effect” that inspired him to re-learn that instrument. The tenor has a lighter sound to a six string, and Billy Joel’s Downeaster Alexa sounded superb played on it. So good in fact, that I would never have guessed that the song was his! Beer was starting to warm up now and he treated the audience, who were slowly getting there too to Warren Zevon’s Ballad of Frank and Jesse James. I loved the way he was showing off on guitar during this one.

Unfortunately the first set was over all too soon. I had just enough time to get a much-in-demand tin of Vitamin G before Winchester and Wigg opened up the second set with Anorak Town, a well performed feel good song. Wigg played the low whistle to this tune- the lady sitting opposite observed how long it was! The final song the duo played was Clearwater, which produced a wonderful combination of sounds. One thing that impressed me about Wigg, was that he appeared to just miss the beat. He couldn’t have though because the timing was perfect- must be my eyes letting me down.

Beer took to the stage with tenor in hand to open his second set with another Springsteen homage, in the form of Young’s Town. Phil’s vocals were superb on this song about the industrialisation of a mid-western town. Country Music was then played on the fiddle, followed by Steve Earle’s Devil’s Right Hand, and Good Morning Weathercock. I really enjoyed the simple vocals and melody of Weathercock.

To play Broadside Ballad, Beer picked up his “big”, tuned to G, guitar for the first time that night. According to him, it’s great for Ry Cooder impressions, and he did an awesome impression, showing just how good a guitarist he is, playing to perfection the most complex run I’ve heard for a long time! Beer, being an astute performer noticed that the audience warmed to an “epic” song, so he treated them to Nic Jones’ Warlike Lads of Russia. The song was perfect. Lol George’s truck driving lament, Willin’ was sung with Phil’s powerful vocals pushed under perfect control, to their limits. I was impressed by the backing provided by the audience, with yours truly supporting too.

Just as I thought things couldn’t get any better, Phil played Acadian Driftwood from his Rhythm Methodist album. This was a beautifully captivating tale of Native American Indians being disposed from their land. Before I run out of superlatives, I must mention When This Bloody War is Over, and the medley of Flowers of the Forest and Holy Brook, also from Methodist. For the encore, Beer picked up the mandolin to play Robbie Robertson’s Broken Arrow.

That night, the audience at the Footlights were treated to musicianship of the highest quality, performed by one of the Country’s best talents, at the top of his game. I’m not gushing; I’m just telling how it was. I bought a copy of Downes and Beer at Nettlebed, and the man himself signed it for me. I don’t know why, but I felt a bit nervous when I spoke about the weather to him.

Before leaving West Chiltington, the people who had kept me company that evening invited me back to see the other half of SOH, Steve Knightley in March. I would love to see him there; unfortunately there are so many other folk clubs I have to visit. Once again, no flyers were distributed, so I have consulted my Folk Diary and the next stop on my tour is to Seaford Folk Club to see Trotwood on the 20th of February.

Hope to see you there. Mark.

Gig 8 Mick Ryan and Paul Downes

2009-01-31T06:49:00.000-08:00

Gig 8 Mick Ryan and Paul Downes. 23rd January 2009
The Ram Club
Portsmouth Road
KT7 OHB

Attendance: 100
Price: £10
My Location: 5 rows from the front

Record Recommendation: Hard Travelling: Dave Sharp.

After the break up of the best band ever, the Alarm, the band’s axe man- Dave Sharp- changed his style from “punk folk rock” (my definition of the music) to American folk rock. A subtle change in the naming convention; a dramatic change in his sound. It’s a style that gained him a few new fans, but not the following, and success, in terms of audience numbers, enjoyed by the band’s lead singer Mike Peters. Peters (who remains a hero and inspiration to many, including the writer of this blog) continued on the “punk folk rock” path satisfying his loyal fans, and brought in new tracks with the same theme to attract new ones. I suppose Sharp could have carried on his career in the same vein, and played the same genre Peters was, but would the demand for two competing musicians have allowed this? If, like Roger Waters of Pink Floyd, who tried to go head to head with Dave Gilmour after that band’s acrimonious split, the answer has to be no. I'm sure that wasn't Sharp's reason for not going that route though. In the ‘90s, a bitter Waters was lamenting the fact that while he played to 6000 people in a 10,000-seat arena, Gilmour was playing his (Waters’) songs to 50,000 in the stadium in the next town!

Hard Travelling is a Dylan, Guthrie inspired song played in a melodic tone, with words that will strike a chord with even the hardest of listeners. It’s a song that takes you, as its title would suggest, on a journey, subtly describing its course and the guardian watching over you. The song is beautiful and powerful, and wants to be reached out and touched, its brilliance leaving it just out of reach.

The first time I heard Hard Travelling was while watching Sharp in 2002 at the Plug and Play in Reading, at what turned out to be number 4 in my favourite gigs of all time. Trying to find the venue proved to be a challenge, but like the Barge mentioned in a previous blog, it was definitely worth persevering in trying to find. The main reason I located it, was because I could hear Sharp sound checking from the building in a row of garages in an industrial estate. The club was miniscule, and the 25 strong crowd that turned up to watch the show almost sold the place out. Looking at their new website, it looks as if they've changed location since my visit. I think even Sharp himself was surprised at the intimacy of the place. The reason it is number 4 in my all time favourite gigs is difficult to pin down, one is because the location was so different from all the other concerts I had been to at that time. The small audience of die-hard fans who had made the effort to turn up also impressed me. At big concerts you quite often get hangers on who are there because they have nothing better to do on the evening. They chat throughout the show, go to the bar far too frequently, and don’t appreciate the gravity of the evening. There was none of this behaviour at the Plug. The clincher for me was being so close to such an amazing artist- someone who is at the top of their game, who has played in front of 40,000 people! The crowning glory was the expectant hush that came over the audience when Sharp struck the opening chords of Hard Travelling, and the roar of approval at its conclusion.

The last time I heard the song live was in 2006 at the Killingworth Castle Inn; a venue the Woodcut Process were very privileged to play at a few months later. The audience on that occasion was very different to the patriotic crowd of the Plug and Play, but even they could sense something special was on the way when Hard Travelling was played.

This week has seen the passing away of two of the more accessible stars of the modern era. I’m not really qualified to eulogise on either so will put down highlights from interviews on the characters. Chris Blackwell, founder of Island Records who signed John Martin, said of him he influenced amongst others, U2 and Bob Marley. When Blackwell took Marley to see Martin, from his back-stage position, he kept pulling the curtains back and looking on to see where Martin’s backing was. Marley couldn’t believe that the man was playing solo! Blackwell described Martin as a man of extremes, his voice was gruff and scary, also soft and gentle; he was an angel and a tyrant.

The second loss is that of Test Match Special statisticianist “the Bearded Wonder” Bill Frindall. According to one commentator, who will get the final word, Frindall was as much a part of the show as “Aggers, pigeons, and chocolate cake”.

Last Friday, I went for the first time to the Ram Club. I was ignorant to its proximity to my house, and future trips there may be under taken on the push bike so I can sample one or two of the fine bottled ales the bar stocks. The 2007 BBC folk club of the year has recently changed venues, and is now located at the Old Cranleighan rugby clubhouse. The regulars encouraged a relaxed atmosphere that made me feel most welcome, and it wasn’t long before I was chatting to the couple sitting next to me. I told them all about the Woodcut Process, and my mission around folk venues. In return they tipped me off to the Footlights club in West Chiltington.

The music soon kicked off with compare for the evening, Ian, singing his song about the Ram moving locations, called New Beginnings. The atmosphere was such that people started singing along- an occurrence that happens too infrequently as I think I mentioned in a previous blog. After the song, he joked, with sincerity, he was hoping to win 2009 folk club of the year. From what I have seen on my tour, The Ram must be in contention. Next week’s awards will tell. Charles took the next floor spot from Wimbledon. He sang two of his own tracks including Living Dummy, about the hardships of life. He struck a couple of bum notes on the guitar, but to be fair the lad had a pretty good voice.

As I frequently confess, I am a new comer to the magnificent world of folk, and am ignorant to many of its players. On the floor next came Heather and Paul. Heather sang Farewell My Son from the folk musical the Navvy’s Wife. I was really impressed at how at ease they were in front of the large crowd, and especially with Paul’s easy guitar, which sounded awesome. It was only when Paul was joined on stage by Mick Ryan for the main act, that I realised he was Paul out of Mick Ryan and Paul Downes!

I enjoyed the control in Mick’s voice as they opened with The Grand Conversation. This was followed by Reprisals, with its very traditional sound, from his show The Voyage. Then to show we are all human, Mick forgot a verse in Young Men All. I have chastised Biggs a couple of times for forgetting words on stage, and like Downes reminding Ryan of their order, I have had to prompt the lad too! Despite the mid-tune hiccup, Young Men All was finished expertly with a rousing crescendo.

Paul picked up the banjo for the next song- Land of Cockayne, which sounded sweet as a nut! This was followed by another track from the Navvy’s Wife: Farewell. As expected it was a beautifully melancholy song about a mother’s good-bye to her son.

The songs were interspersed with some good old-fashioned banter. Subject matters included the state of Paul’s car, the vocabulary of the youth of today, and the merits of shopping at Lidl. Downes did excuse those who had never heard of Lidl as we were in Surrey after all! Mick Ryan strikes me as a truthful man, the fact that he is a part-time teacher suggests he is trustworthy- to a point! If he told me a tale, nine times out of ten, I would believe it. I’m sure that most people would concur with me. I think that he doesn’t believe the majority of people trust him- before most of his anecdotes; he said, “this is true…” Mick, we do believe you.

Before the interval, the catchy Lazy Man, which featured some great guitar, and Lark Above the Downs were played. Lark is a reminisce about war in the trenches. Ryan showed us the power and control of his voice in this one; he held the note wonderfully in what was a very touching song.

Bob Wood singing about Rabbie Burns on the floor followed the interval. Alan and Carol Pryor were up next sing Davie Steele’s Last Trip Home, acappello style. The rendition received the largest round of all the floor acts that evening, and well deserved too I thought. Jim Merry followed this tough act competently, before making way for Ryan and Downes’ second half.

They opened with The Foe from a Hard Day’s Work. Paul Downes excelled himself on guitar during this song. He did actually command the songs more in the second half than the first; I for one, really appreciated his musicianship. They sang a Frampton song (the name, like the words to Young Men All escaping Ryan, evade me) during which I’m sure I could see smoke billowing from the strings of Downes’ guitar, he played so hard! Other songs they played included the Sleep of Death, and Geevor Tin Mine, which is played to the tune of Joni Mitchell’s The Light. Geevor Tin Mine featured great harmony and showed the versatility of the band.

The Bell Ringing song painted a picture of a traditional British country fayer. For some reason the words “a hat laced with gold” appealed to me. Downes excelled on the banjo for this one. Ryan and Downes saved the best song until last with Thomas Brassey. This was a cracker played at a “railway temp”, with overlapping vocals. The song was a foot stomping, show stopping treat for the good audience at the Ram. Before they left the stage, Ryan complemented the organisers, and echoed Ian’s words about Club of the Year, and said, “it’s the hard workers that make a club what it is”. The encore followed and was a tongue in cheek song about the virtue of the pig- read my opinion of funny songs in me last blog.

I very much enjoyed my debut visit to the Ram, and the music I heard that night, I look forward to my next visit. On to more urgent matters. The only flyers the club had to hand, apart from their own were ones for Twickenham, and Croydon- clubs I am all too familiar with. So, on the recommendation of the couple I was sitting next to at the Ram, I am going to the Footlights club to see a certain Phil Beer on 7th Feb.

Am looking forward to seeing you there. Mark.

2009-01-24T05:26:00.001-08:00

Gig 7 Vin Garbut. 11th January 2009
Twickenham Folk Club
The Cabbage Patch
TW1 3SZ

Attendance: 100
Price: £10
My Location: 3 rows from the front

Record Recommendation: Every Line of a Long Moment: Roddy Woomble.

Martyn Joseph said it, Vin Garbut said it, and I think it quite a lot. In Joseph’s case it was at the Twickenham Folk Club last year, in the best performance I have witnessed at a venue that has hosted many illustrious guests. Two songs into his second set, Joseph said, “I’ve had a request, it’s a great song, but I don’t like playing it ‘cause it’s the one I always wish I’d written.” He then proceeded to stun the crowd with his amazing rendition of Springsteen’s Thunder Road. Afterwards, I let my friend, and Springsteen worshipper, Big Barry know I had just been to an outstanding gig, which was topped off with Thunder Road. The lad was very impressed. On that recommendation, we went later in the year, with my parents, to see Joseph in Bristol. Even though Thunder Road wasn’t played, Baz couldn’t help falling in love with the music.

On Sunday, with a lot less regret than Martyn had, Garbut played If I Had a Son by Phil Millichip. Garbut had the same perspective on the track that Joseph took to Thunder Road. Millichip was the first person in his family to not work down the pit, and the song is about his father’s decision to educate him so that he didn’t have to. It was stirring stuff, and I really enjoyed the song.

If you are lucky enough to attend a Woodcut Process gig, at some stage in the evening, you will be treated to a beautifully mellow, yet fast tempo-ed, modern folk classic. The song is Roddy Woomble’s Every Line of a Long Moment. The song is to me what If I Had a Son is to Garbut, and Thunder Road is to Joseph.

Even though Every Line is played at, for a drummer, an arm-busting tempo, it is such a joy to perform, that I soon forget my aching limbs and admire the melody that invites the audience to tune in. Woomble’s background as front man for Idlewild (the Woods also play their song Safe in a Hiding Place), has given him the confidence to write songs that will rouse an audience. Indeed, Every Line is co-written with Rod Jones, Idlewild’s guitarist. The long list of folk celebrities that play on the My Secret is My Silence album the song’s taken from, could only influence positively Woomble’s dip into the world of folk.

Biggs and I have played Every Line as a duo, and with my busking buddy Lambert improvising John McCusker’s violin, on the harmonica. The song is always greatly received, and we have been lucky enough to have had Miss Stott guest for us on violin, and help to play the song as it really should be played. More recently, Bigg’s sister has taken on the mantle of full-time violinist for the Woodcuts, and the instrument adds the extra dimension to the song that makes it a privilege to perform.

As we played Every Line of a Long Moment at a gig recently, I glanced out at the audience. The singer of the band who’d been on before us was standing next to the stage, his foot tapping and a huge smile on his face. At the time I had a twinge of regret that it wasn’t one of our own, but to quote Vin Garbut “the best songs are ones you choose- not ones you own.” I’m now going to insert the disc into my player, turn the volume up, and play along.

Before I start, I must apologise for keeping you all waiting for this blog entry- the last was written well over 3 weeks ago. I have been very busy, and under the influence of the Moveable Feast gig, I have written a new song. It’s called The Government Man. Biggs has a copy of the words and is pushing his music writing skills to their limits in coming up with an apt tune. When it’s recorded, the song will be on our myspace site for your aural pleasure.

Talking about aural treats, Vin Garbut delivered on the 11th Jan at the Cabbage Patch. I attended this gig, with my busking buddy, Lambert. The audience numbers were too high to fit in the bar annex, so the expectant crowd were ushered up-stairs to the night- club venue, which was filled to over flowing with chairs. It was so busy, that Twickenham Folk club organiser Gerry said we might have to stand! I don’t mind standing at gigs; before I started watching folk, 95% of the ones I attended were standing only. However, as I squeezed into a seat on Sunday, I did appreciate it, even though we were like sardines at the front. The crowd was at least double that of Vin’s originally planned, but ill fated, October gig. When announcing the acts, Gerry observed that cancelling a performance, then re-scheduling it as Vin had done, seemed like a sound business plan- no wonder Vin’s been around so long.

The music commenced with the club’s sound man, Paul Vile, and Pip Collins playing a couple of Pip’s songs. Paul is an accomplished guitarist who sounds good and always looks in control. I’ve seen him play a few times, and he has an air of calm on the stage. Pip was obviously enjoying her singing, and it is always a pleasure to see someone performing openly and honestly. Next up was Vin Garbut’s “chauffer”, Martin Nesbit. Martin explained that he knew Vin pretty well, as he was his builder too, and he thanked Vin for lending him his guitar. Nesbit was a very witty man, and his singing and playing were good- for a brickie!

His second song was a “funny” song. I will make things clear right now- I’m not a fan of “funny” songs. Invariably the one thing they are not, is funny. If you want to make people laugh, write a joke or a sketch, and tell it in between your songs, which can be about sensible things like the open sea, betrayal, revenge or murder. I went to an open mic evening in an Oxfordshire pub recently, where the musicians, many of whom were very proficient, were predominantly from the local folk club. I thought I was in for a real treat when the first artist played a sonnet on the replica of a middle-ages lute. It transpired that he was one of the country’s foremost traditional instrument makers, and regularly gets commissioned to create them for film sets. The next musician proceeded to set a dower, for me, tone with a song about curry. This was followed by other members of the club trying to get a laugh out of chocolate, badly behaved ladies, and vegetables, amongst other un-comical themes. The only thing that made me guffaw that evening was when they passed around the jug expecting imbursement! Leave “funny” to the Baron Nights! Having said all that, Nesbitt’s song was quite amusing, and I think that a smile even cracked the cantankerous lips of yours truly.

James Henry took the final floor spot. He was promoting his latest CD Sweetener. He sang City Fox, and All that I Want for Myself, from the aforementioned disc. The lad is a good musician. Check out his website.

Garbut took the stage with guitar, Guinness, complete with holder attached to his mic stand, and about 10 minutes of gags. After his tale, he asked if he’d sung Land of Three Rivers yet. He hadn’t, but proceeded to do so, his distinctive clear voice hitting all the right notes. Three Rivers was followed up, shamelessly, by his fortnight late Christmas song. I found the song strangely catchy, and it had the perfect balance of regret, melancholy, expectation and seasonal allusion that make for a great festive tune. This was followed by more tale telling, and scene setting for Diary of a Northumberland Miner. The tune was about how Lord Londonderry forced miners out of work, and even stopped their water source in an act of cruelty condemned in John Wrightson’s song.

It was after Diary, that Garbut introduced Craig- the man with the camera. The show was being filmed- if you purchase it, keep an eye out for me, three rows back, on the left as you look at the stage, furiously writing notes, and wearing a blue and white shirt if I remember correctly! I’m not too sure when the film will be available; the gig it captured was a cracker though.

While the songs were played, I didn’t really notice the running theme of dissent and dissatisfaction in them. This may have been due to Garbut’s skill as an entertainer. In between songs, he spun yarns and told witty tales about subjects as diverse as the difference between his and Bob Fox’s (brought back memories of Dartford) accents, kids falling off chairs, and childhood ambitions. However, as I type, and look through the titles he played, it is obvious that Garbut has a message, which is one of stand up for yourself. Don’t be afraid to be an individual. Talking about individuals, Fang- of ukulele playing fame back in October- was seen sitting in a corner enjoying the ceremony. The message was pounded home with Fear of Perfection. Garbut wrote the song in 1976 during a visit to the States. Back then, anxious parents persuaded their children to wear teeth braces to meet the dentists’ standard model of how teeth should. As far as I know, the practise still exists today; the really concerning thing is that it is one of the less obvious forms of “enhancement” that are around these days. The point Vin was making was that these treatments cost money so are most accessible to the rich…. I will concentrate on the music. The delivery of Fear of Perfection acappello style, gave it the extra potency a song with that message deserved.

Other songs performed included I Never Found My Eldorado, Troubles of Aaron, A Teacher from Persia, Edgar Guest’s It Couldn’t be Done, Beer’s Children, and Streets of Staithes- about the demise of fishing in the small North East town. After the rendition, Vin told us that last time he played the song here, a local had congratulated him, with a tear in his eye, and announced that he didn’t realise there there had been such an influential fishing industry in Staines. This was obviously received with roars of laughter from the Twickenham crowd! Highlights for me were If I had a Son, Man of the Earth, which is about a man forced to retire, and England my England. Vin’s powerful voice draws the listener into this captivating tune. A tin whistle tune had the crowd toe- tapping on the edge of their seats.

On exiting, with great grins on our faces, Lambert and I agreed that the entertainment value was second to none. The gig was the longest lasting one I have seen at Twickenham- the rules flaunted as Vin played after 11 o’clock- oohh- eerrr!

I took the obligatory flyer with me, and I am very pleased to say that my next outing will be at the 2007 Folk Club of the Year, The Ram. On show will be Mick Ryan and Paul Downes.

See you there, Mark.

2009-01-24T05:25:00.002-08:00

Moryssh Daunsers 10th January 2009

Hello all, a big thanks to the regulars for continuing to follow this blog into the New Year, and welcome to all the new readers. I’ve had some good feed back recently, and that helps inspire me to keep blogging!!

Amidst all the doom and gloom that is being reported these days, I read another bad news tale that is closer to my interest than some others. It was a snippet that went along the lines that Morris dancing could die out in 20 years. This would indeed be a sad thing, because, as Charlie Corcoran of the Morris Ring said recently, “once we've lost this part of our culture it will be almost impossible to revive it”. The Morris dance has been around for hundreds of years, and even by Elizabethan times it was considered an ancient art. The title of this page is in reference to the 1448 document that gives payment to the Daunsers for their services. When we see dances these days it is a manifestation of over 500 years of evolving dance from when it started with two performers, to at least 4 these days. Corcoran also says that young people are too embarrassed to take up the activity these days. I can sympathise with the young. The costumes dancers wear, are seen by many, as sources of derision, rather than one of pride. They vary from troupe to troupe, but in the main are traditional working wear, with ruggles (bell-pads).

(image taken from the Morris Ring)

My most recent encounter with Morris dancers was at the White Horse Folk Festival in 2008. We were treated to performances from three different forms of the dance. When they arrived at the pub, they were greeted with gusto from all of the patrons. I was most impressed with all dances, they showed great skill and timing during the dance, but also there was camaraderie about them and a sense of belonging to the team. The Icknield Morris in particular, left an impression on me. They danced with real vigour, aided in the main by the young members of the troupe, which included the Junior Leader playing the melodeon. When I say young, I mean young. They were guys in their early twenties, if that! I felt very privileged to be watching the skill, fitness and strength in the performances.

To be fair, it wasn’t just the youngsters; many of the old boys were clashing sticks, and shaking bells with just as much enthusiasm, although the want of stamina was getting the better of some. During the Icknield’s third dance I had a chat with one of the senior members of the troupe. When I asked why he wasn’t involved in it, he replied that officially he was allowing the juniors to take the limelight for a change! I could only congratulate him on his modesty, and generosity in sharing the acclaim of the spectators amongst the troupe as they sweated away on the warm afternoon. And his choice of ale from the well stocked bar!

Not too long ago, I was listening to Radcliffe and Maconie, who were talking to a caller to the show. They asked him the usual questions i.e. what his job was- formerly in the army, now a trucker, his marital status- married, etc. Radcliffe then asked what his hobbies were, to which the caller said Morris Dancing. As soon as he said that, a surge of interest one could almost feel from the DJs, was being broadcast. There was a bit of rib tickling, because that is Radcliffe’s and Maconie’s job, however, there was a genuine respect from the two to the caller for his involvement in the tradition. They did mention about a fall in numbers, and whether the caller was embarrassed to tell friends that he danced. The reply was that he didn’t feel at all embarrassed, and didn’t hesitate to tell acquaintances of his hobby. “I didn’t tell anybody when I was in the army though!” was his final defence.

Humorous as the response was, I suppose this is the problem faced by many people courting the idea of joining a group. However, this is where the Morris Ring needs to fight on all fronts. If they can demonstrate to potential members the solidarity, and pride in their pursuit that comes from being in a troupe- which was clearly in evidence from all the performers at the White Horse Fest- they will have no problem recruiting. Once a member, dancers will then fully appreciate the health benefits, and the satisfaction of being involved in keeping alive one of this nation’s proud traditions will bring. Let’s see this tradition around for another 500 years.

I’m off to see Vin Garbut performing in Twickenham tomorrow. I am looking forward to that, and telling you all about it with my next update of the blog.

Mark

2009-01-24T05:25:00.001-08:00

Gig 6 Moveable Feast. 22nd December 2008
The Barge Inn
63 Layfield RdGillingham, ME7 2QY

Attendance: 50
Price: Free
My Location: Stage Side

Record Recommendation: Fairy Tale of New York: The Pogues.

I think that it is only fitting that I recommend a festive treat this blog. There are quite a few good seasonal songs that compete for the prestige of being called Mark’s Favourite; they include A Spaceman Came Travelling by Chris de Burgh. I admit it, I do like a Chris de Burgh song, but it is a good song, I will say no more! Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s Power of Love is also a fine song. The thing is, if they weren’t Christmas songs, I would have forgotten about both of those tracks by now. There are two Seasonal songs that I think are genuinely worthy of being classed as Quality Songs. The first is I Believe in Father Christmas by Greg Lake.

I think that it is a beautiful song, and it never fails to put me in a festive mood when I hear it. Even though it is a reaction to the commercialism of Christmas. It has recently been covered by U2 for the Red Charity. At first I thought I had dreamed it all up when I told friends that one of my favourite bands covered one of my favourite Christmas songs- it just sounded too good to be true.

However much I enjoy I Believe in Father Christmas, I can only recommend one song, and it is the one and only Fairy Tale of New York by The Pogues. It just is the greatest Christmas song of all, and although it is a Christmas song, Fairy Tale could be recommended on a glorious mid-summer’s evening with swallows darting across an open field, the hint of apple blossom drifting on the warm breeze, it is such a timeless hit. I suppose one reason for its status, is that on its re-release every Christmas, we are reminded how uplifting a tune it is. As it is only “available” for a short period, we don’t take it for granted, we welcome it back like an old friend- one who is a bit unpredictable but exciting none the less, and we never bore of it.

The song has been covered by many artists including Sinead O’Connor, Ronan Keating, Razorlight, and The Woodcut Process, among others. The song was on a list of want-to-plays for a long time. Biggs and I had the good fortune to be supporting local band the Phantoms in early December 2007, plus Biggs’ sister was around to guest for us on violin, and female vocals, so we dedicated ourselves to learning it. Fairy Tale is a deceptively difficult song to learn as I found out while playing along with the CD. Half way through it veers off into 5/8 timing, and with so many good drum fills in the song I had to concentrate hard on keeping the beat.

Playing Fairy Tale of New York also gave me the opportunity to chance my arm at providing a bit of vocals. My voice isn’t the best in the band- it’s probably the third best- just a head of Wilson- but when it comes to imitating a drunk down and out, my untutored vocal chords are almost more suitable than Biggs’ cultured ones. I also don’t mind providing backing on Eerie Canal- I’m less out of my depth when the words are intentionally not too harmonious- i.e. when, in this case, they’re sung by drunken barge men. So the two of us, Biggs and I, sang the opening monologue together. I must admit, the crowd seemed to enjoy our rendition, I loved playing it, and I look forward to playing it again. Can there be a higher recommendation for Fairy Tale of New York?!

Ok, I was off once again on my travels; to Kent again, to see Moveable Feast at the Barge. The web site describes the pub as “Medway’s best kept secret”. I can vouch for this statement as I spent about 15 minutes wandering around trying to find it- even though I had a map, and I am a cartographer! If you are looking for it, don’t go in to the Ship thinking the Barge has had a refit and rename; the Barge is just around the corner, and worth perservering to find. My first impression when I saw it nestled in a terrace between two houses, was “wow”. The interior was unique too. With a name like the Barge, it was no surprises that it had a nautical theme, with low ceilings and lighting, dark wood panels, and sea-faring memorabilia on the walls. These included a couple of tillers, paintings, and model boats. The place was full of trinkets from 17th century buckles and coins found in Kent, to the bottle of Arrogant Bastard Ale sitting on the shelf. The ales behind the bar were of a good quality too, and I treated myself to a Young’s Special for £2.90.

Moveable Feast started playing at about 9, and I made my way to the only vacant seat, which was slightly behind the stage, in a rapidly filling pub. The main problem the venue has, is the number of posts that can get in the way of the view of the stage. But I suppose the ceiling does need to be held up! Moveable Feast were represented by Jo on double bass, Di on fiddle, Mitch on acoustic and lead vocals, and Tony who I thought was on electric guitar. The band has a drummer, and acordian player too, but they were unavailable for that evening. I was a bit disappointed, because when the band was sound checking, there was a set of conga drums on the stage, and I was hoping to be treated to some rhythms performed on them. Unfortunately they were carted off to a safe place behind the bar before the act started, or I could volunteer to play them!

The band started the gig with Your Scent Upon My Heart, which sounded like a traditional Country and Western style tune- a bit like something Tammy Winnet would play. This was followed by Pebbles on a Beach. The song had a Latino feel to it, and it was about swimming against the tide, and it was nothing like Paul Weller’s song with the same title. The Weller sound came later in Stretley Road, when Mitch was punching out the words in a very Jam- like fashion. During Pebbles on a Beach I noticed that Tony’s “guitar” sounded very much like a mandolin. It was only after 3 more songs and a lot of squinting at the instrument, that my eagle eyes noticed it was eight stringed, and was in fact an electric mandolin.

Things really started to get going when Moveable Feast played Baltimore, a song inspired by Mitch touring in Ireland. Di stepped up, and expertly lead the tune, and carried on the good work as they launched into a couple of foot stomping jigs that had the crowd clapping in time.

It is here that I must express my surprise at the folk gigs I have been to. It was at the Moveable Feast gig that I heard, for the first time the audience clapping along to a song- well done Moveable Feast! How shocking is that? I have been to too many concerts to count, watching all genres of music, and the crowds have always responded by at least clapping along to the songs. I suppose the small seated venues I have been in recently don’t really lend a conservative crowd an opportunity to let themselves get carried away by the music- it would be far too embarrassing for them! But come on audiences, let yourselves go; love the music. I can’t put all the blame on the audience, no; the organisers need to create the ambience where people aren’t afraid to get a bit carried away. Turn the lights right down, start a few hand claps- people will join in, and the band will respond.

Phew, where was I?! Oh yes, Jo provided lovely harmony on Forgive Me Now for all the Sins I have not yet Committed, which was a great relaxing song. Before the interval, a superb interpretation of House of the Rising Sun was performed with awesome mandolin solo thrown in for good measure.

The second set commenced with Tango of Sexual Power, a song about the Falklands War that had me thinking up some words for a new Woodcut’s song- the first verse has been penned. Biggs, you have been warned. Throughout the evening, the band showed off their versatility by mixing up the songs from folk, to country, to gipsy (all very different styles) Irish folk, and a bit of Ska, I certainly enjoyed the variety, and judging by the participation, the rest of the crowd did too. Highlights for me included the fine build up that was performed in Heart of Stone, Burnt Bottom (Charred Arse) the Gipsy tune, and the driving bass in Wild Eyes. I also loved their cover of The Devil Went Down to Georgia. The song has been a favourite of mine since I were a lad, my good friend Dawson bought it as one of his first singles, and we played it while weight training in his room. When the song was being played, I thought that the lights on the Christmas tree by the stage had gone ballistic, until I realised they were flashing in time to the song! The song Moveable Feast was played toward the end of the evening. It is a charming tune where the lyrics move effortlessly from the feast of food on a mobile kebab van, to the feast of an ethnic mix that makes up this Great Nation of ours. It was a cracking evening, and Moveable Feast would liven up any party they were invited to play at.

On my way out, I was stopped by Tim, the “Skipper” of the Barge, and asked if I had enjoyed the evening. I replied in the affirmative, and complemented the band. Even though it was a busy pub, Tim took the time to tell me how he has interest from bands as far away as Holland who want to perform at the venue. I told him that there was a reason for bands wanting to play there- it is a unique setting, it has a relaxed, and welcoming atmosphere, which reflects the management style. Have Radio 2 visited the Barge yet?

I have one slight problem though, once again, no flyers were handed out. However, I have come up with a plan. Cast your minds back to the beginning of this tour- the act to kick it off was Vin Garbut at the Twickenham Folk Club. As you know he pulled out due to sickness, however, he will be playing at that location on 11th Jan. So, if no-one minds, I will re-visit my Folk Home on that night, and continue thence forth.

Cheers, Mark.

2009-01-24T05:24:00.001-08:00

Gig 5 John Pearson and Jem Turpin. 8th December 2008
The Barnaby Rudge,
Albion Street, Broadstairs,
CT10 1NE

Attendance: 30
Price: Free
My Location: 3 rows from front

Record Recommendation: Cousin Jack: Show of Hands.

Well, when I started my foray into the world of Folk about 3 years ago, the band whose name kept cropping up was Show of Hands. As I now consider myself a Folkie; more a trainee than hardcore, I reckon that I am qualified to use the three-letter acronym SOH for the band. Apologies to any purists I upset, but think of all the virtual ink I am saving! A beautifully written song with a simple melody. We all know Beer and Knightley are capable of out-playing most musicians, but it is the accessibility of Cousin Jack that, in my opinion, is its strength. I was reminded of the song whilst watching ‘Railway Walks’ with Julia Bradbury a while ago. She was being guided by a former miner who worked underground in Cornwall, and he said, about the Cornish: “if there’s a hole in the ground you’ll find one of us down there.” Words straight out of Cousin Jack. The landscape around the mines was devoid of any life because of the pollution caused by the digging; it looked exactly like how it is described in the song: “scared like the face of the moon”.

Is this song a protest song? Of course it is! It is subtle, so it doesn’t really matter. If they wanted to, SOH could act as support for Dame Shirley Bassey, and get away with playing it as a protest- unlike Martyn Joseph, who was relieved of his slot supporting that great Lady because of his pugnacious tones. Although Cousin Jack mourns the loss of industry and community, it doesn’t steer a safe course away from the reality of mining. The lyrics don’t disguise the poison that affected many of those men who worked underground, albeit in an almost celebratory tone, like a passage of right almost. In the version recorded at the Royal Albert Hall (RAH as I’m using acronyms) Knightley says it’s about the Cornish, and in an interview with Folking.com, he says he would like the song to become part of the county’s heritage. Unlike many protest songs, Cousin Jack is not really dateable, so won’t go out of fashion. I believe that it has got the strength to become a song for generations.

A band that only yesterday was keeping folk alive, by practising, amongst other songs, Cousin Jack, was the mighty Woodcut Process. Biggs had returned for a brief interlude from his secondment, and we spent an evening rehearsing. It was the first time I had had a serious practise for about 6 months. I have been spending some time with a little known band called White Taxi, but I liken that band as Ronnie O’Sullivan does his left hand, as a mistress- I go back to it when I need some reassurance, some excitement, and to get me through the occasional tough patch. Sorry for using Ronnie’s term, but his was such a great use of the word mistress that it deserves paraphrasing. I’m also sorry to Clay and Wilson from the Taxis for calling you my mistress!

I was a bit rusty, I admit, especially as the esteemed couple of Biggs’ sister, and Wansborough- of the Jellyheads, who put on extra pressure with their excellence, joined us. But we played well, it was a great evening, and it was good to be back! I’m looking forward to Biggs’ permanent return and getting back to making music. We practised for the first time our new track (as yet untitled), and when the form is sorted, I reckon it will be a cracker. It’s got a beat that will get people clapping, I hope, and it won’t be long before it is released on an unsuspecting public! The session has made me realise that I need to practise, practise, practise, and practise some more.

A survey was conducted recently where school children were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. A large number of them said they wanted to be “a celebrity”, quoting the likes of David Beckham. I think that most of the kids didn’t realise that Beckham is a footballer who has become a celebrity. Back in his day, he was an outstanding player, and he became an outstanding player by practising. For an hour after his Manchester United team-mates had left the training ground, a young Beckham would remain on the field practising his free kicks. For a while English football benefited from his perseverance. The same can be said about Johnny Wilkinson’s talent for dropping a goal. The esteemed musicians I rehearsed with yesterday didn’t just wake up one day able to perform wonders on keys and fiddle; they worked hard to get that good. So for all you kids out there who want to be “celebs”, get good at something. To be good at something, practise.

Let me tell you about my trip to Broadstairs. I was looking forward to this one as I haven’t been to the coast for a while, and the line-up, although John Pearson and Jem Turpin aren’t Folk as advertised in my flyer, they are a grass-roots act of the type this blog is also dedicated to. I had read good reviews about the duo on Blues web sites, so it was R’n’B that I was expecting.

I arrived at the Barnaby Rudge at about six o’clock. The venue didn’t host a folk club; it was going to be a night of music played in a pub. As it wasn’t promoting the Folk scene, there were no flyers! The pub itself had a modern interior, was spacious, well lit, but not glaringly bright, and warm. The Barnaby is named after the eponymous hero of Dickens’ Barnaby Rudge historical novel. Dickens regularly visited Broadstairs between 1837 and 1859, and the town pays homage to its literary genius of a guest with a museum, annual festival, and numerous buildings named after him, or his characters. The imposing Bleak House, Dickens’ home in Broadstairs, sits above the cliffs, commanding an impressive view of Viking Bay. Back at the Barnaby, I was told by the helpful bar staff that the music wouldn’t start until 9:45- after the football that was to be shown!

I would have to be patient, so after a fish and chip supper, I visited the Charles Dickens Pub for a blackcurrant and soda. As I enjoyed the view of the bay, on a leather seat, surrounded by dark wood panels, I couldn’t help but notice that the music being played was somewhat out of character with the surroundings. The system blasted out a remix of Summer Nights, followed by a mix of the classic Live is Life by Opus, which for some reason kept fading into the words “a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut”. Most surreal! The worst thing was I found the music strangely catchy.

At 9:40 I returned to the Barnaby, only to find that the match was still being played, and wouldn’t finish until 10. As soon as the match finished, Pearson and Turpin plugged in and started, and unfortunately as far as a gig goes, this was a no-starter. With the football crowd still in, the band cranked up the volume to compete with the shrieks of laughter, and post match discussion. For a lot of the first 30mins, John Pearson’s guitar drowned out his vocals, and Jem’s harmonica. That isn’t to say they didn’t play well. I really enjoyed Way Down Town, which sounded very Tom Waites-esq. The quality of their musicianship could be heard above the melee, and quite often I was deceived into thinking there was more than two instruments on stage. As the football fans started to thin out, the speaker volume was adjusted in time for an awesome rendition of Dylan’s Crash Levee. The song released Turpin and Pearson to perform a beautiful interplay between harp and guitar. It was the highlight of the evening for me. I complemented Jem later on at the bar, praise which he modestly accepted.

That’s not to say they didn’t manufacture much else in the evening. On the contrary, a number of songs caught my ear, including Deep River Blues, Fredrick McQueen’s Don’t take Everybody to be Your Friend, which had some groovy harp on, and Good Friends. Pearson and Turpin played a couple of real good travelling blues tunes, by the names of Whisky Train and Streamline Train, which they finished the night on. The rolling train guitar sound grabbed me from the start of Streamline, and saw Jem and John play a solo each. Listening to these two songs conjured up images of railheads, people warming themselves around a brazier, waiting for the next flat-bed to arrive and jump a ride into the night. Unfortunately, it was only as the night neared its conclusion and the remaining audience were there to listen to the music, did their skill really become apparent.

As soon as the clock hit 11:15, the two finished up and started packing. I don’t blame them for not hanging about. They had a bum deal really, having to wait until 10 to start, and playing in front of a crowd who weren’t really listening, but they did a good job, and soldiered on. I expect that if asked, they would admit the situation wasn’t conducive to playing at their peak. But hey, as a musician, you have to be prepared for a non-interested audience. I remember listening to a recording of the Woodcuts playing in a bar. I could hardly hear my drums, let alone Biggs' vocals over the punters’ chatter.

The Pearson and Turpin experience was a good one, and I would happily have paid to see them.

So, as I had no flyer, I resorted to Plan B again, and consulted my Around Kent Folk publication. The date has been fixed for my next trip; it is on 22nd December, to see Moveable Feast at the Barge, Gillingham.

See you there, Mark.

2009-01-24T05:21:00.000-08:00

Gig 4 Tich Frier. 24th November 2008
Croydon Folk Club,
Ruskin House, 23 Coombe Road,
CRO 1BD

Attendance: 35
Price: £7.50
My Location: 3 rows from front

Record Recommendation: Straight to Hell: The Clash.

A punk rock review on a folk blog, I hear people muttering. Remember, all music is connected with only few degrees of separation. It has been said that anyone could meet anyone else, anywhere in the world, and they would both know, or be related to someone if they traced their associates back 7 degrees. So why do we all hate each other? Perhaps we hated the person 7 degrees back.

I reckon that two, or three, associations at the most, separate music genres. Joe Strummer was a Woody Guthrie fan. The more I travel, the more I hear Woody’s influence- don’t be surprised if you hear his name mentioned later in this entry. Straight to Hell is a great track that is done in the reggae style that many Clash songs are famous for. It’s a tune that elevates the Clash above your average punk band of that, or any, time. They’re singing about injustice, cruelty, war and poverty, and its marching beat guarantees that it doesn’t get depressing. The song has a certain hypnotic quality. It draws you into the lyrics based on the plight of children of American servicemen being born to Vietnamese women in Hochi Min City. The line "it ain't Coca-Cola it's rice" is just sublime. If you’re lucky enough to hear the song on The Story of the Clash, the fact that it precedes Armagideon Time (by Willi Williams and J Mittoo) really shows that this band could put out a message in their awesome songs.

Last night I was watching my favourite channel (BBC4) and, much to my delight, The Clash Live: Revolution Rock came on, so I opened a beer. Only a few months earlier, I was watching, on the same channel, the Transatlantic Sessions. It’s strange how certain drinks seem to fit a certain situation; during the Sessions, I couldn’t resist a Talisker. It just seemed right to be supping it to that show. I suppose the fact that the Sessions were filmed at Strathgarry House in the Highlands, had a subliminal effect on my choice of beverage. Or maybe I just fancied a Talisker- that’s not a bad thing is it? What I’m saying is “good on the Beeb”, even though they have dumbed down a lot of their shows recently, i.e. Horizon, for broadcasting this diversity of music. A couple of weeks ago they played Jeff Beck at Ronnie Scott’s. Not my cup of tea really but it’s music, it’s live!

During the Clash Live, Barbara, one of my Polish house- mates, asked who the band was as she didn’t know any of the songs. I was about to tell her when they played London’s Calling and she recognised the track. She had first heard it at a private party when she was a schoolgirl living under Communist rule.

In the grand scheme of things, music is quite trivial I suppose, but I remember hearing London’s Calling for the first time and realising that music can move people. And I had been bombarded with amazing songs my whole life, with no restrictions, except my tender age, on what I listened to. In fact, another time I heard the song is a moment I will never forget. I was sitting on a terrace, a balmy evening in New York, the City’s skyline in front of me, London’s Calling on the juke box, I felt proud; I felt like I had arrived. In Poland at the time we had the Pistols, the Damned, and the Police, amongst others, in record shops and on the radio, they had censored Polish and Russian bands playing on the airwaves, and not much else. The effect London’s Calling had on the gathering Barbara told me, was at was electric. She said it was a link to the outside world. It’s only a song, but it let people know that there was a real world; they weren’t alone- what a song to put out a message of hope! As I imagine what it was like to hear, for the first time, the power and passion of that song, in an act of subversion toward the dictatorship, I get goose- pimples. This happened only 20 odd years ago; for me it’s a tangible link to the past. We acted as dictators to the Scots. It was a while ago now, but I expect that when the village folk heard a lone piper playing a rousing anthem on the banned bagpipes, it made them feel invincible. Just like the Poles and Joe Strummer.

It was a chilly evening a bit closer to home when I saw Tich Frier. He is summed up by the six words “small guy, big voice, sharp wit”. When he arrived, he didn’t disappoint. I say, “when he arrived” because during the floor spot acts, we thought that he wouldn’t. Ross, the MC, who is the first person I have seen drinking out of a tankard on this tour by the way, had a contingency plan though. A blues band was rehearsing in Ruskin House, if Tich didn’t turn up, they agreed to take on the mantle of main act.

Croydon’s Folk club is a stark contrast to the Ironworks in Oswestry where I was at a fortnight ago. It is in a nursery school hall in the grounds of the Labour Club’s HQ- Ruskin House. This was the first time I’d been to a gig where I put my reasonably priced pint (£2.70 including a packet of crisps) next to the candle, on the low half hexagon table that brought back memories of my schooling. It is a place that to many would be the stereotype Folk club, a bit rough around the edges, very informal, and an eclectic mixture of people. There was no pretence there; everyone was really friendly. I spent the first 10 minutes talking to a regular called Joan. She told me how the children, whose hall this would be next morning, had planted pumpkin seeds earlier in the year, to watch them grow, harvest them and turn them into soup. I find it reassuring that in the cynical world we live in, nature still provides wonder for kids.

Joan asked me what had drawn me from my local in Twickenham to Croydon. I told her about my mission, and she agreed that a lot of very talented musicians, many of who played at her club went sadly unnoticed. That night I achieved minor celebrity status- during the interval, one of Joan’s friends said to me “you must be our visitor from Twickenham”- word gets around! In fact I wasn’t the only guest from Twickenham, Wendy Grossman, who took a floor spot at the Brian Willoughby and Cathryn Craig gig that started this quest, was also there. Wendy has a sound folk pedigree; she has released a couple of albums, played numerous festivals, and provided backup for Bill Steele, and Jon Wilcox amongst others. She also has an entry on Wikipedia.

Ross who sang unaccompanied, was the first of a plethora of floor spot acts. I’m sure he won’t be upset when I say he hasn’t got the best voice in the world. But, like bowling in cricket, I’d never have the nerve to do it in front of a crowd, so I fully respect anyone who gets up and sings with no backup; and bowlers! Next up was the multi-talented Jenny- earlier she had been collecting money on the door. Chris Roach also sang unaccompanied- a couple of shanties this time. I’ve heard that the shanty is becoming popular again, and I must admit I do love listening to them. Believe it or not, Johnny Depp has released an album of them featuring artists like Shane McGowan, Bono and Brian Ferry, amongst others.

Joan who I’d been talking to, and her husband Phil, took to the stage and turned out a couple of good tunes. My favourite floor act followed- Les Alvin. He is a great local talent, and to be fair, he did stand out from the acts that preceded him. In particular I enjoyed Old Man of the Sea, he certainly performed it with the confidence of a well-rehearsed musician. Mike and Chris Crowthorne were up next, followed by Hector Gilchrist and Wendy Grossman. Hector, who makes up the Selki duo with Liz Thomson, and is founder of Wildgoose Records, was at the first folk gig I went to in Twickenham. I remember having a friendly chat with him, and my friend Miss Ford always asks about the lad when I go to Twick-Folk. He sings with an incredibly clear voice. I’m not sure where he comes from, but his voice has the lyrical tone similar to Scottish Gaelic speakers. Wendy once again played her now famous auto-harp.

Well, all of those floor spots took some following, and Tich did the admirable job you’d expect a seasoned professional like him to do. He’s been on the scene for forty years, and shared the stage with names such as Robin & Jimmie, Carthy & Swarbrick, Archie Fisher and Willy Russell, and he even has Dick Gaughin guesting on his latest album. At this point, the folk club could have done with turning the lights down a bit. The atmosphere the candles should have produced was lost in the glare!

The performance was one I really enjoyed. In the small venue I felt a closeness to the artist that I haven’t experienced for a while. Tich’s act was simple stuff- very effective though- a song followed by an introduction. He didn’t show off on the six string; but there was no need to. The story behind Northwest Passage, about John Franklin, husband of Lady Jane, was as interesting as the song itself. I liked his story telling, especially when he introduced Bothy Ballads, which originate in the ‘midlands’- Aberdeenshire. What followed was a cracking song called Ballad to Dougherty, and a mention of Moira Anderson. I haven’t heard her name spoken at a gig since I listened to Marillion, where Fish tells her to “eat your heart out” before launching into Margaret on their B Side Themselves album. I reckon it’s a Scottish thing!

Talking about Scottish things, the evening put me in mind of the October Fest Biggs and I went to at the Clachaig Inn in Glencoe. Tich is the kind of artist who would go down a storm at that event. I reckon that the Woodcuts, even though they are English, could hold their own at the Clac. too. We do play a couple of songs from North of the Border. Other songs that stood out for me included Parish of Orwell, and Isaac Lewis, both on Shanghaied- Tich’s latest album. Half way through the set, Tich put down his guitar, and told us the story of how he sang Rose of York at his friend’s funeral recently. He then sang that song accapello to us. I don’t know how the people at the funeral would have felt, but it brought a lump to my throat- it is a beautiful song about the frailty of human life during war in the trenches. The seminal moment for me, however, was Tich’s rendition of Steve Earle’s Christmas in Washington. Wow! I sat back in that school hall with its flaking paint, and draughty window frames, and listened in awe- it seemed to sum up everything my mission was about. If you haven’t heard it before- I hadn’t- our old pal Woody is featured heavily in the lyrics. If you can’t make it to a Frier gig, you have to listen to Christmas, or if you like the song and desire to hear it live, get down to a Frier gig!

Thanks to Tich and Croydon for putting on a great show. I am enjoying this tour so much, and it is filling me with enthusiasm to get playing again. The Woodcuts are having a brief reunion for a practise and a beer in a couple of week’s time, and I can’t wait.

On the way out of the venue, I snatched a flyer as I sprinted to the station to catch the 23:16. The good news for the Barnaby in Broadstairs is that I’ll be visiting them on the 8th Dec to see John Pearson and Jem Turpin. Now they sound like a couple of folksters if ever I’ve heard of a couple.

I will see you there, Mark.

2009-01-24T05:20:00.000-08:00

Gig 3 Cara Luft with Hugh McMillan at the Iron Works Oswestry. 12th November 2008
Attendance: 50
Price: £5
My Location: 3 rows from front

Record Recommendation: Bad: U2.

On my way to Oswestry, the U2 song Promenade from the Unforgettable Fire album was going through my head, in particular the line “words that build or destroy”. Wow, with profound lyrics like that, I thought it would be worth recommending as my song of the fortnight. However, after listening to it, I flicked to Bad, and realised that this would be my recommendation, and that I wouldn’t write about Promenade! Not because Promenade isn’t good; it’s very good, but it is eclipsed by the seminal piece of music named Bad. From the opening chords it is set apart from the crowd, even on an album as good as Unforgettable, it stands out. On this track Bono doesn’t do his reputation for having one of the finest vocal ranges in music any harm. It is sung and played with a passion rarely heard, I just love the bass, and Larry Mullen’s tom work too. I guess it’s because of the ability to produce records of this quality that U2 were the world’s greatest band for a long time- possibly the greatest ever. A bold statement, I know, but there are people out there that think the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Inxs and REM at one stage could lay claim to that title (including Michel Stype, who had ambitions to write the world’s best album). I’m sorry, but until they can come up with anything to match Bad, they’ll be footnotes to the true Greats. Please listen to the track- I might just be a grumpy ole man who needs to get off his soap box- but I’ll need a very long ladder to descend from this one.

Another busy week is over, unfortunately a rock and roll legend won’t be seeing in any more. News that Mitch Mitchell passed away at the age 61 reaches the airwaves on 12th November. Of course he’ll be remembered for accompanying Hendrix for a few heady years, in revolutionary age that most people (including yours truley) have only witnessed through grainy Woodstock, and Isle of Wight festival footage. Mitch’s departure even made it onto the Today Show on Radio 4. Luke Lewis, editor of NME, and Nico McBrain, Iron Maiden drummer, paid tribute to Mitchell’s skills as percussionist, and rock star. The discussion even lead Evan Davis one of the show’s hosts, to declare they “don’t make drummers like they used to”. I expect this was acompanied by a perfectly in-time collective sharp intake of breath from the likes of Mark Brzezicki, Chris Sharrock (who’s been mentioned earlier), and countless other drummers in up and coming bands.

I suppose in some respects, there is truth in what he said. There aren’t many drummers in modern bands that, like Ginger Baker, John Bohnam, Keith Moon, and Mitchell, who are stars in their own right. This has probably something to do with the more modest era we live in. As was mentioned in the interview, the sticks men of yesteryear would indulge themselves somewhat with their solos, with some lasting up to 30 minutes! Bands just couldn’t get away with that sort of stuff these days- especially as it would have to be followed by the bass solo! Nico, rather apologetically almost, said that he’d once performed a 20 min solo. He followed this up by saying that these days Maiden would rather chuck in 4 songs instead.

A band that had the balance right, in my opinion, was Marillion, under Fish. Each member was given 8 bars to show off- no messing around, straight in, straight out. Listen to Market Square Heroes on Real to Real for an example. Because, let’s face it, the punter wants to see a bit of showmanship, they want to see the musicians perform; but not get bored to tears. Enough said, except for raise a glass to Mitch when you get the chance.

If you were in Waterloo underground on Saturday 15th Nov, and you heard a couple of buskers plying their trade, that would have been me and my busking buddy Lambert. He does all the complicated stuff like sing, play guitar and harmonica, and I bang the bongos. It’s a great way to spend an afternoon if you’re a musician who, like I do, need some practise in front of an audience. Since Biggs started his secondment, I haven’t played in a pub, and to avoid getting too rusty, the busking suits me. I love the way people, especially kids, respond to live music. Some youngsters skip and dance along, others clap in time, sometimes people even pay hard cash when they hear it. It is difficult to predict which song will earn you the most. Last time our money spinner was California Dreaming, we played it twice yesterday, and it raised a pitiful amount, whereas 8 Days a Week, which hardly raised a penny last time, had people filling up the collecting hat like the recession was at an end. I suppose the main thing is to enjoy the experience and not to expect any money. With yesterday’s earnings I thought I could retire, unfortunately it didn’t take long for it to disappear into the till of the Fire Station hostelry around the corner from Waterloo!

Let me now tell you about the Cara Luft gig. She is an award winning Canadian singer song writer who used to be in the Wailing Jennys (or is it Whaling Jennys- you can’t tell with folk). She is touring the UK, with Hugh McMillan, promoting her new album The Light Fantastic. Our paths crossed at the Ironworks in Oswestry.

The Ironworks isn’t a folk club, but a live music venue. There were no volunteers setting up chairs, or handing out flyers- I’ll come on to that later, so it lacked that warm welcome I’ve become acoustomed to on my short tour. That’s not to say the staff weren’t friendly, ‘cause they were, but the evening was about the business, not the love of folk. The ‘works building reminds me somewhat of the Maltings in Farnham. It has the potential to be like the Maltings, and become the focal point of the community. If it is run correctly, the place could quite easily host acting workshops, antique sales, and craft fayers amongst other activities, and stand out as top venue for live acts in that part of the country. As Cara said, it was the best venue she had played in so far. Here I must mention that it had the best sound I’ve heard in a long while- all credit to Alled who engineered it by making repeated visits around the room to ensure it was perfect. Another thing going for the place is that you can get a pint of blackcurrant and soda for 20, yes 20 pence.

Cara’s music and singing was relaxing. If I was listening to it in the car, I would have wanted to take my foot off the gas, pull over and chill. Like a lot of the other folk artists I’ve seen recently, she is very witty and a good story teller. I also liked the way she threw her arms up and sang Laaah after a couple of her songs.

Being a Canadian, she’s obviously used to big scenery, and the spirit was captured particularly well in the songs Town of Wilcox, and The Light, both written when she was staying with a nun in the middle of Saskatchewan. McMillan alternated between mandolin, and bass. It acted in exquisite balance to Cara’s vocals and guitar, and he did play some neat riffs. I’m starting to appreciate the sound of the bass a lot more now than I used to. This could probably be down to the fact that I don’t hear it very much on the live arena due to genre I’m following at the moment, so when I do, I really like it.

The two were very good at ending a song. This might sound like a simple task to some, but in my experience, an audience can forgive a poor song if it has a good ending. This is because they will forget the rest of the song. Their endings didn’t mask over poor songs though, they enhanced what were already beautiful tunes. Other songs that stood out were Bonny Light Horseman, You’re no Friend of Mine, and Down the River. Despite the late start (it didn’t kick off until 9:40) I had a great evening in Oswestry. I liked the venue- it’s one I could see the Woodcuts playing in, the sound quality, Hugh’s musicianship, and I loved Cara’s songs, and her charm. Take yourself along to see her if you can- like me, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.

Where to next? As I mentioned, no flyers were given out, so I grabbed a copy of Maverick Magazine that was lying around. It had no gigs which tied with my schedule- honestly. I thought I could see Keith James and Rick Foot at the Clapham Picture House on the 23rd, but that is the day I return from my next holiday, so I’ll be too late to see them. I have, however got a copy of the free Folk Diary in front of me, and the 1st gig I can go to is...... Tich Frier at the Croydon Folk Club on 24th Nov.

So, it is with great pleasure that I will be visiting Croydon.

Mark.

Bob Fox and Stu Luckley

2009-01-24T04:10:00.000-08:00

Something New 20th Oct 2008

I’m aching a bit today. That’s because on Friday and Saturday just gone, my friend Ed and I walked from the source of the Thames to Oxford- over 50 miles, following the Thames Footpath. The source is in a field about a mile and a half from the train station at Kemble in Gloucester. The station was a place, we decided, that would be a good place to work. It had a sort of 1950s feel to it- when trains ran on time, people respected each other, and things were a lot more sturdy than they are these days. Or so we’re lead to believe. I was watching a programme on my new favourite station- BBC4- that showed footage of passengers of that era being interviewed, and they were complaining about uncomfortable seats, over crowding, and high ticket fares. And that was before Beeching! Anyway, if I worked at a station like the one at Kemble, after seeing the commuters off, and helping a lady load her trunk on board the 9:20 to Cricklade, I’d put the kettle on and browse the day’s papers. A little later I might bring myself to sweep the platform and water the hanging basket- sure it would be hell, but it’s a hardship I’d endure for the good of the community.

There wasn’t much water at the source- I was expecting to see a spring bubbling out of the ground, but I wasn’t disappointed. The tranquillity of the place, the green fields, and the long shadows cast by the lowering sun, more than made up for the paucity of H2O.

After taking a photo or two of the stone that marks the start, we made our way to the B&B we were staying at, and after a mile or so, we saw water- there was a river in that dried up bed- eventually. It was the first trickles of England’s greatest river; it was the start of “liquid history”.

The pub we went to in the village of Ewen that evening was a disappointment however. It was what is described as a bistro pub, as it served expensive food. That didn’t bother me too much, because it was good food, and we were on holiday. It was when they brought us the bill that I had cause for complaint. They had charged us for an extra drink each. When I informed the bar man there was something wrong with the bill, he immediately said he had put too many drinks on it. The speed at which he registered our complaint makes me think it wasn’t an honest mistake. It takes a lot more than 4 pints for me to miss a trick like that. After that moral victory, I’m sorry to say that I acquiesced to Ed’s insistence, and paid my share of the 10% service charge they had automatically stuck on the bottom of the bill. The fact that they’d tried to rip us off, and charged us 10% for the privilege made me livid I can tell you!!

The fresh air that I inhaled next morning soon made me forget the pain of the previous night. As we headed off on that autumn morning, we decided that as we’d started the Thames Footpath we would do the whole 184miles over a series of weekends. The next instalment is due in January; winter walking is so rewarding, especially as you take a seat next to the fire, scotch in hand, when you reach your destination. Of course a few years ago, I would have spent the night under the Plough, Great Bear, and North Star. These days it’s under a duvet in a cosy B&B.

‘Isn’t this blog about music?’ I hear you ask. Yes it is. The other evening I was listening to Mark Radcliffe on Radio2 (Stuart Maconie was on hol) interview the Irish comedian Jason Byrne. When asked who his influences were, after listing a few regulars such as Dave Allen, and Tommy Cooper, I was surprised to hear him say Mike Harding. Byrne told of an occasion when Harding had strung out a joke the entire length of his half hour show. I must admit- I’m no expert on 1970s comedians, but I did think that back then Harding was busy being a folk musician.

It was “the” Mike Harding for sure, as Mark Radcliffe started waxing lyrical about his folk show on a Wednesday. Wednesday from 7-8 is an awkward time for me to listen to a radio show. It is either band practise- the band that has sent their finest collection of hits to Mike Harding, only to receive a stony silence as way of reply- or cricket. When I say ‘the’ band, I’m sure we’re not the only band that sends CDs to the man, and perhaps he’s working his way through the backlog before discovering ours. Or maybe, like Ringo Starr, he’s stopped writing to fans! He’s been pretty good about not signing memorabilia- Ringo that is. In his press release in early October, he said he wouldn’t be signing anything after the 20th- if it’s post marked after the 20th it will be binned. I really like his quaint generosity, ok, if you were thinking of sending your T-shirt off for him to initial, you’ve missed your chance, but it will take him for ever to sign all correspondence up to that date!

So, through no fault of mine I keep missing what is undeniably an excellent wireless programme. I know it’s good because on the odd occasion, I’m not required for the first 11, and I catch the show; or my lead singer can’t be bothered to do a full session and we hear the last half. Things will change though. There is a new invention called the “internet”, and you can save radio shows off it; Mike Harding’s is one of them. I intend to do this as well as all the other commitments I’ve made.

Oh my God- how will I find the time? I’ve even agreed to run the Edinburgh Marathon with a bloke from work!

Cheers, Mark.

Gig 2 Bob Fox and Stu Luckley at Dartford Folk Club 28th October 2008
Attendance: 120ish
Price: £8
My Location: front row

Record Recommendation: Vigil Ante Man: Woody Gutherie.

Music stripped to its bare bones. It’s a simple tune, but I suppose that’s the way they were written back then. Before I’d heard the original, I heard a cover by Mike Peters, who professes to have been heavily influenced by Gutherie. I’ve been a fan of Peters since my boyhood so I rushed out and bought Dust Bowl Ballads to see who had been inspiring him. A superb purchase it was too, I especially enjoy playing it on while relaxing in the garden and having a beer. I think I will discuss the album in greater depth at some stage of this blog- there’s something to look forward to!

I endured a tough weekend and was suffering the effects even on Tuesday as I went to Dartford. The occasion that had put me so out of sorts was the Twickenham Beer Festival! It’s been having that effect on me, on the weekend that commemorates the passing away of Nelson, for the last 4 years. At one stage in my life, I was not into Folk, and I was not into ale. I don’t know how I managed to weave those phenomena into my life, but their appearances roughly coincided. The beer was first. I used to a bit of voluntary work in my younger days; am taking a bit of time out from it at present- come on, there are only 48hrs in a day!, but I will go back to it in the future. We did manly outdoor work like chopping down trees (dead ones), constructing fences, installing gates, and building the occasional bonfire. When I got home after a hard day I used to enjoy nothing more than opening a bottle of St Peter’s Organic Ale, slowly pouring it into my Stein- I hear disapproving in-takes of breath at that statement, but I don’t care if it’s German, I will continue to drink out of my Stein until the Brits can invent a superior vessel- and supping it in the garden. I also like the real ale scene- any guild that doesn’t shun the bearded, the un-trendy, the slightly eccentric, and the hat wearers, amongst us, must be a noble one.

Saying all that, there were a number of very attractive young ladies in attendance on Saturday. As it was the last day, and stocks were running low, I only managed a Ramsbury Gold, and a Shere Drop before the casks ran dry. I alleviated my disappointment of missing the Wayland Smithy and England Expects, by indulging in some bottled Crop Circle, and some outrageously strong cider, before visiting a number of local hostelries. What a night! My friend Paul’s return bus ticket indicates we left Twickers at 1.35am.

The next day we sobered ourselves up by going to the Imperial War Museum. It’s a moving experience seeing photos of the horrors of war, and reading peoples accounts of how they’d survived, and it is one museum I would recommend visiting if you can. It certainly puts into perspective the trivialities most of us moan about these days.

Before Paul went back home to Weston- Super- Mare, I suggested another trip to Twickenham- this time to the Folk Club. We were about to go in, when I saw the poster- Bob Fox and Stu Luckley. I couldn’t spoil Tuesday’s event by going, so poor old Paul had to miss them too- I don’t think he cared too much as it meant he could get home earlier.

What happened at the gig? I hear you ask. Well, in case you don’t know, Dartford has been voted Radio 2’s Folk Club of the Year, a fact that Colin, the evening’s compare kept reminding us of- with tongue firmly in cheek, of course. I don’t blame him; it is a prestigious award, and something to be proud of. The Club volunteers were very friendly, and made me feel most welcome. I had a good old chat with Roger who regularly helps out- he’s not a musician he admitted; he’s there to put the chairs out, shift the speakers and tidy the place up. Every club has got a ‘Roger’- someone who’s there in the background getting the un-glamrous tasks done and who is just a great asset to the club.

Also, as the club is hosted by the Working Mens’ Club, Dartford Folk Club boasts great prices. I had a pint and packet of crisps for £2.40. I couldn’t believe it!

The floor spot was taken by violinist/vocalist Ceri Davies. She had come down from Worcester to perform as a special guest, and played four songs with great aplomb. She was very entertaining and the audience certainly warmed to her. Half way through her second instrumental, though, she made the mistake a thousand up and coming performers before her have made, and a thousand others will make in the future- Biggs, the lead singer of the Woodcuts used to do it regularly. She made a small error in a sequence, and grimaced at the fact. You wouldn’t catch me doing that- I don’t make mistakes!! No one in the audience would have noticed if it wasn’t for the pained look that crossed her face! Don’t worry though, I’ve even seen Martyn Joseph, show his frustration in similar fashion. Anyway, Ceri played good trad folk, is off to Uni next year and will be looking for musicians to hook up with. Keep her name in your diaries, phone books, backs of cigarette packets, or where-ever- I’m sure she is a name to look out for.

The start of Bob and Stu’s gig, set the tone for the rest of the evening. With comic timing, Colin announced, as Ceri left the stage in front of him and Bob and Stu entered behind, “it’s great to see some young talent playing in the club”. “Thanks very much” was Stu’s Geordie accented response. The two of them were great entertainers- they could play, and rip a yarn. On more than one occasion I found myself laughing out loud at tale of theirs. The reason they were touring was to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the release of acclaimed ‘Ain’t Nowt Passed So Good’ album. Plus, I suppose, it’s their contribution to the revival of small-venue, top class live entertainment.

It has been many years since they last performed together, but they were certainly well rehearsed. I especially enjoyed Bob Fox who strutted his stuff in the campest of manners, playing his acoustic bass guitar. That was only the second time I’ve seen one on stage (acoustic bass that is)- the previous being played by Craig Adams providing rhythm for a certain Mike Peters. The train-imitating tempo he provided on the Engine Drivers’ song was masterful- I though the 19:27 to Euston would burst through the stage on queue to his measure. Stu wasn’t to be outclassed though, and he played solidly all night, provided the majority of vocals, and to be fair, the majority of gags. I liked the no nonsense approach he has with his kit- he didn’t handle it with kid gloves. Some artists treat their instruments with an over caution that reminds me of that time I held a £150 bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label in World of Whisky.

Well, the night was a great one. My favourite tune was The Thresher, a lament about a doomed nuclear submarine in launched in the ‘60s. The lyrics were particularly poignant especially as we approach the Remembrance Day season. I left with a smile on my face, a warm handshake from Roger, and a Cara Luft flyer. I’m off to see her at The Ironworks in Oswestry on 12 Nov- how far from Feltham is that??

As I type, listen to Start by The Jam, think of all the great bands and venues my Acoustic road trip will take me to, I feel a surge of excitement well over me. Looking forward to seeing you all too.

Until next time, Mark.

2008-12-31T06:44:00.000-08:00

Folk, Roots, Acoustic and The Woodcut Process

It's all about Music 11th Oct 2008

Hello all and welcome to my blog.
I have been inspired to write a blog after reading my colleague, Andy Ollerenshaw's, book version of his enlightening Wick to Wembley and FA Vase blogs. In it, he describes his FA Cup trip via his local club then following the winning team of subsequent ties to its Final conclusion. His is all about football. Mine is all about music. The thing I like about Oller's magnus opus is the way he describes the passion felt by local people who are fans of local clubs, and the dedication of volunteers to the team. What he describes is the real World, the real England. And it was still interesting! The matches we see on TV are so detached from reality, it is almost surreal, and what really worries me is that some people regard this tilted view as reality.
I'm not even a "proper" football fan, but I enjoyed his book because it was a comment on the Nation. Anyway, enough free publicity for his book (Wick to Wembley- I don't think I'm mentioned in it once!!), and why, and how am I doing my quest? I am a music fan, I love the way a song or piece of music can lift you up, and speak to you. If you've never felt like that about a song, you've never heard a real song. I also love the spectacle of live music: an individual, or group of individuals, letting an audience know what they're all about in words and chords.
Living in the shadow of Twickenham Stadium as I do, I quite frequently encounter road congestion. This is caused not only by rugby fans, but, more frequently by music ones too. In the recent past, the Stadium has hosted, amongst others, Rod Stewart, The Police, The Eagles, and Iron Maiden. All of them class acts I have to admit; musically very different, but with at least one thing in common…. astronomical entrance fees. Tickets were costing over £60 for all of the bands. A friend of mine paid £75 to see Rod, that's a lot of money! These bands generate a lot of publicity, and people start getting used to these ticket rates. Like the football we see on TV, the good folk of England can believe that this is reality. Some may think you can only witness live music if you have a spare ton in you pocket. I'm going to dispel this myth so people can start to sleep easy again!
How you may ask? I am going to visit a different "folk" club every fortnight for the next year. I'll be going to places where you can see the whites of the performers' eyes, chat to artists who've played hundreds of gigs all over the world, and visit the volunteers whose dedication keeps these clubs a-float. The way I will decide which club to visit next, is by picking the first one mentioned on the first flyer I'm given at a gig, regardless of the act (unless it's the venue I'm already at). That way I hope to see a good cross section of clubs at different locations so I can comment on their similarities and differences. Of course you'll be treated to a review of the concert too!! If any of my entrance fees are over £20 I will warn you in advance so you can sit down before reading the price- I honestly don't think there will be many, if any though.
Keep reading and please comment. Cheers, Mark.

Folk 12th Oct. 2008
The observant amongst you may have noticed that in my previous blog I put quotations around the word folk in "folk" club. It was done deliberately, and the reason for it is that of genre. In my humble opinion, the main problem "folk" has is that many people associate it with out of tune guitars, out of key singers, and the '70s. The modern folk I have seen can be no further from these stereotype ideas. Ok, some of the floor singers (locals who play a couple of tunes before the main act) have been a bit ropy- but they are only amateurs, and they'd think themselves lucky if they make half a mild for their efforts. But even most of them are accomplished musicians.
Back to the genre issue- what makes one type of music a different variety to another? While I write this I am listening to the Absolution CD. It is sub-titled Rock the Alternative Way as it is a compilation of 1990's "Indie" songs by bands ranging from Fields of the Nephilim to Siousie and the Banshees. Of the 18 tunes on the album, 10 are about Love, 2 the Sea, 3 Deliverance, 2 are about problems faced by the young 'uns, and the last song is Ziggy Stardust! I suppose that one's about a heroic character with mythical status. Believe it or not, Gary Moore produced the disc. Only the lead guitarist of the band that made the Irish Folk song Whiskey in the Jar a rock classic!
I was chatting with my friend Barry yesterday, and he was telling me about a show he saw recently where the tattoo artist who decorated many of the Gangster Rappers in America was being interviewed. According to him most rappers weren't about glamorising gun crime and violence, they were stating what life was like on the street. I have just returned from a holiday to the States, and even in San Fran, a city most people would associate with free love and pacifism, there are many streets you wouldn't want to walk down after dark. …… was glad he managed to get out of it all, then he was shot.
Last week I saw Martin Simpson in concert. I haven't got a precise break down of the themes of his songs (it was pre my blog), but I reckon a few were about love, some were tales of the sea, some about guilt and deliverance…. One was about a girl who was murdered by her sister, and had violin made out of her body parts by a wandering musician who found it on a riverbank!! If anyone knows the name of the song, let me know.
What I'm getting at here (as if you haven't already realised) is that throughout the generations, the tunes, and the instrumentation of songs has changed. The emotions that drive people to put down words is still pretty much the same as those felt by folk who sung about being driven from their land, losing loved ones at sea, and struggling to bring up a family in an uncertain world.
Well, the venues I will be visiting, I expect will in general, be small, perhaps a bit run-down, and have an earthy feel to them. In some ways I'll be a bit disappointed if they don't. And most artists I see will probably recant tales of drowning on the ocean, not shootings in an alley. So, if we're talking stereotypes, yes, I'll be in "Folk" clubs listening to "Folk" singers, but to quote
Louis Armstrong: "all music is folk".

The Other Mission
As well as a journey of discovering new (to me) bands, and venues, I intend to use the time I spend blogging- the word blogging isn't recognised by my spell checker, is it a real one? But then again nor is scree and I'm sure I wrote an essay on the stuff as part of a geological study of North Wales at Uni.- to re-discover my music collection. On my shelf are over 200 CDs, some of which haven't graced the tray of my player for many a year. I'll be working methodically through them from Absolution, to Roddy Woomble. Here I admit that I really should get a few XTC discs, and perhaps ZZ Tops greatest hits. As for Yazoo, I'm sure I had reason enough for not getting any of their stuff in the first place. The raw tones of Bon Scott of ACDC singing the High Voltage album are currently being "appreciated" by my housemates as they filter through my walls.
I will also indulge myself by imaging that somewhere along the line, Radio 4 has considered me worthy of being castaway on a desert island. Instead of 10 songs to bring, I can take 26! A blog a fortnight for 1 year, if my maths is correct, that makes 26- a track for each.
My 1st is Hollow Horse by the Icicle Works. I was reminded of the brilliance of this song, which is played, it seems to me, for the pure ecstasy of making music, whilst listening to Radio 6 Music earlier this week. They have a slot where they play a classic from the Peel Sessions, and the Work's 1984 masterpiece was the offering on that occasion. From the unmistakable opening guitar rift, to the joyous lyrics voiced by Ian McNabb, Chris Layhe's driving bass, and Chris Sharrock's frantic drumming, this is song one that unquestionably deserves the prestige of being on John Peel's show!

The Main Mission
It all starts tonight. The first leg of my trip begins at 8pm in the Cabbage Patch Pub, home of Twickenham Folk Club, 67 London Road, Twickenham, TW1 3SZ. Post-code's added in case you fancy a visit, and will be sat-navving (how considerate is that?). Performing is Vin Garbutt. No idea who he is or what he'll be playing, but I'm looking forward to seeing him. I will let you know how it went.

A Change of Plan 13th Oct 2008
I'm now listening to my second AC/DC disc, Back in Black. If I have go through with my original plan of listening to all my albums in alphabetical order by artist, that means it'll be Who Made Who, again by AC/DC, next. Gawd knows I love 'em, but three in a row- it will drive me nuts. And when I get to Iron Maiden, it'll be seven of theirs in a row. What was I thinking when I bought 'em?? Certainly not playing them back- to- back…. I hope.
What I'll do from now is listen to my discs in alphabetical order, however, only the first from each letter. When I reach the end, I'll repeat until all albums have been heard.
Now that's cleared up, let me tell you about last night:

Gig 1 Cathryn Craig and Brian Willoughby
Attendance: 50ish
Price: £10
My Location: second row from the front

Firstly I must apologise for my ignorance. When I arrived at the club, I was surprised to see a sizeable gathering of folkies; there was a buzz, with Vin's name being mentioned in excited tones. He is a well known and popular artist on the folk circuit. He's just as famous for his story telling as his musicianship. I will from now give the performers I'll be seeing the justice they deserve, with some research.
The chance to see him had brought in a few new faces. Unfortunately for the fans, the lad was suffering from laryngitis and was unable to make the gig. I was informed by a very apologetic club organiser- Gerry, as I was going in. But he'd managed to secure Catheryn Craig and Brian Willoughby, if I wanted to see them instead. No worries. I paid my entrance. I took a flyer!
The next person I spoke to was a gent who lived in a canal boat. I didn't ask him if he lived in a canal boat, I didn't even ask him where he lived, he just told me. He then proceeded to inform me about the in-efficiencies of his local neighbourhood watch, his dog, the advantages of a 24 hour mooring, his trip to Eel Pie Island, and a joke about a fisherman and a mere-maid! I wonder if living in a boat had something to do with his willingness to tell random facts to strangers? I thought about buying a canal boat once! A bloke I work with has one on order, I wonder if his taciturn nature will change when he moves in?
I quickly made my excuses and had a chat with the lady next to me. She was from the North East, she apologised, and it was she who gave me the heads up on Garbut.
The first floor spot singer, Wendy Grossman, with banjo played a couple of good tunes to warm up the crowd. On leaving the stage, she was asked to play another. The next act wasn't ready yet- word got round that he'd got his beard tangled in his ukulele!! After Wendy's third, Gerry introduced the oncoming performer: Fang. Up shuffled the 65 year old Fang on his crutches. He then broke into Paranoid by Black Sabbath, followed by Anarchy in the UK by the Pistols, strumming away competently on the ukulele. You honestly could not make it up! Like iron filings to a magnet, this thing called Folk attracts the talented, the talented eccentric, and the eccentric.
Fang was dutifully given his deserved applause, and he made way for Catheryn and Brian. They had been at the same hotel as Vin Garbut the previous night, and in the message they relayed from him, he seemed genuinely upset about missing this gig. Luckily, they had agreed to stand in. Like many small clubs, pubs, and banks, the difficult financial climate that is the mid '08s has had an effect on Twickenham Folk club, and if the gig had to have been cancelled, the loss of revenue would have been bad. Catheryn showed her appreciation of the crowd for supporting live music. The thing is, when it's of the quality we'd seen that evening, I think word will get around, and people will start filling seats.
The gig was performed effortlessly. Catheryn's really got a powerful but controlled voice. I've never seen anyone standing so far away from the mic, yet still get every syllable amplified so perfectly. The last song before the break, about Princess Pocohantis, was truly great. It would be a hard-hearted person who wasn't touched by it after being told tragic tale of her short-lived life. I was also mesmerised by Brian's guitar playing. It sounded alternately like Floyd and Knopfler- I can't think of many higher compliments, but it was unbelievable! And I've seen some good axe-men.
During one song in the performance, I thought, "if the Boss himself was playing now, it wouldn't be any better" the tone, the guitar, and venue complemented each other perfectly. That's not to say they are better than the Boss, no sir-rie. Only on two occasions have I witnessed live music I thought bettered his seminal Earl's Court appearance in 2000- and that was special!
In conclusion, I had a great night out, was well pleased to see the act, and will see them again. As they exited the stage, Catheryn and Brian said they were going to be playing at the Bull's Head in Barnes Bridge for an important gig later in the week. Last time I was there, I was watching the lovely Helen Baden, whose CD I've just listened to (B for Baden see), and I've had the honour of playing support act to, singing jazz.
Time to sign out now, Radcliffe and Maconie are playing the Charlatans on the wireless. Oh yeah! Sorry, that "oh yeah" should have read: oh yeah, where am I going for my next journey in folk? Well a fortnight from Sunday on my flyer would have had me watching Bob Fox and Stu Luckley at the Cabbage Patch in Twickenham. I must move on, so the next date on the hand out is 28th Oct, at Dartford Folk Club, Dartford. Dartford is a place rated highly by me mate Ollers in his book- he watched their team play more that once, so I look forward to the trip and writing all about it.

Mark.