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.