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.

Bob Fox and Stu Luckley

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.