Farewell Shanty

 Dave Webb aka Webby to lots of us, would have been highly amused by some of the more flowery tributes being paid, after his sudden demise a few days ago. He was 87 when he passed and I can almost hear him now saying, "that was quite a good innings." Although I look back fondly on him as a generous, kind and funny man,  my word he was capable of giving someone he did not care for a right tongue lashing if they displeased him. Which is only to be expected if you have lived such a long and eventful life as Dave had.  

Webby at Nuneaton Folk Club circa 2014

He considered  professional footballers to be pansies (for example) and those who played Rugby (Union Code of course), to be proper, decent human beings. Latterly he became a Wasps fan and I used to tease him about that mercilessly. That was because I preferred to follow the fortunes of "Cov" the City's original Rugby Club. Once they had left Coundon Road, Dave's opinion of "them"  plummeted. I had only played a bit of Rugby myself and that only at school (where as soon as I was allowed to, I switched codes). Nonetheless, Dave forgave me and a working knowledge of the game and the fact that I had been sent off in my first competitive fixture after about five minutes meant that he would allow me to express an opinion on it at least. We rarely discussed Association Football. Dave's views on that and on Banjos or Bagpipes, British Railway's Britannia Pacifics and using the right condiments with the right meal. are unprintable.

He did enjoy a pint, but unlike some of his generation, he did not always stick to one old fashioned brand. Like me he was not averse to sampling lighter or bolder ales from Independent local breweries like Byatts and Purity. He was always a moderate drinker, although I suspect there was once a time when he could have seen off quite a few of us. He was generous in round buying-he liked to pay his way-and more. 

There were rarely any splinters in Webby's backside. He was not a man to sit on the fence. I think that is one reason why The blokes in The Nuneaton & District Elderly Gentleman's Beer Drinking Society (Folk Club Branch) AND The Hawkesbury Trawlermen liked him. We might not  have always agreed with every opinion he aired, loudly and vociferously  but in a way, we admired him for expressing  them. Below we have an early photo of some of the NADEGBDS sporting their corporate On Tour shirts in the days when we all used to meet up at The Felix Holt in Nuneaton. Dave is on the right at the end of the table. He had more hair than all of us!

Although there was nearly a fifteen year age gap between us, Webby and I grew up in streets that were virtually next door to each other. I lived in Northfield Road and he in Humber Avenue. In Lower Stoke, an unforgiving and  "lively" industrial inner suburb of Coventry. Surrounded by the hum of factories and the thunder of steam hammers up at Bretts? Stamping Works. At night we could drop off still hearing the hoot of steam whistles and the clanging of coal wagons being shunted up the road at Gosford Green Goods Depot. I daresay we had both played on Gosford Green, explored the forbidden banks of the River Sherbourne or London Road Cemetery and trespassed in the grounds of The Charterhouse. 

A foggy day in the yards at the top of Humber Avenue

This meant that when conversation flagged on other topics we could always find common ground on sharing anecdotes about railways, Coventry's History, Motor cars motorbikes and buses , Folk Music, (Rod Felton in particular) and the Brandon Bees-Coventry's (sadly) extinct Speedway Team. I believe also that he had  been at one time involved in Cycle Speedway.  I had watched it occasionally and I owned a "tracker bike" at one time. It had no brakes or gears and heavy tread tyres. I found it terrifying but I can just imagine a younger Webby hurtling around a circuit  on one as the tapes went up. 

Webby had an  encyclopaedic knowledge of topics like The Bees. He read deeply on anything that interested him and sometimes we would trade transport books or diecast models. I would sometimes bump into him at Collector's Fairs or market stalls. Ferreting through the bargain boxes. He searching for transport ephemera or I hunting for model railway treasures. He was a Miner, a cook, a folk singer and a raconteur . He had travelled abroad and had  experienced life in the Armed Forces. This meant that he had a huge back catalogue of stories and tales. I told him several times he needed to write all this down . You could not say of Dave Webb after his passing, that he had not done anything with his life.

Dave just seems to have always been there. Often quietly and patiently as an audience member  or awaiting his turn to perform. Now he isn't going to be there, I am struggling with it a little, to be honest. We used to rib him about serving in The Crimea or being at Rorke's Drift and he took it all in great spirit. I won't be listening to his  cleverly presented monologues on stage any more or being suddenly surprised by him altering a Set List whilst we were singing or amending  a  shanty solo by singing an alternate verse which some of us we were not entirely  familiar with. I confess, I'm really sad about that. I only hope that when he gets up to The Pearly Gates, they are ready for him.  If they are not, then he won't hold back in giving them a proper good telling off. 

Dave's last public performance. 6th in line, head back and giving it his all. 

It's Coming Home

 Amidst the mayhem furore and big headlines of this the 44th year and very quietly, on Friday night, history was made. In that I finally got to play the mighty Warwick Folk Festival. And a band I was in finally got mentioned somewhere on the advertising. Although it was a Fringe Event and not the Main Stage anywhere, it meant as much as Glastonbury to me. A bridge crossed. A scar healed. 

Though this may be small cheese to those local acts who have somehow always made the billing there every year since the Boer War, this was a momentous event for me. Warwickshire after all is my home county. It says "Warwickshire" on my birth certificate. Since 1987 I have paid my Council Tax to Warwickshire. Despite the indignity of a Leicestershire Post Code which sends me all over THAT County for NHS treatment and for Jury Service, I live in a village that has been in Warwickshire since the 10th Century. 

And performance-wise I've always done well in Warwick as a town. I've played there many times, in various bands or solo.  Warwick Folk Club: Warwick Beer Festival: Warwick Words Festival and The Lord Leycester Hospital. The Warwick Arms, The Bowling Green and The Wild Boar. Outdoors, indoors and  in pub gardens. The first album Black Parrot Seaside recorded was set down in Pathway Studios in London. But it was remixed in Monty Bird's studios in Warwick.

 And there's more. My dad was billeted in Warwick during World War 2 and he helped keep order there during his role as a Military Policeman.  It was lovely to see, on entering the venue on Friday, that it was the home of The Royal Warwickshire Regiment Association. A unit which both my Dad and Grandad served in during two World Wars. Both of them would undoubtedly have marched in formation through that part of Town. I like the castle, I like the Park and I like the town centre. Me and Warwick have always got along.

So although  overlooked, and despite  WFF regulars who kept assuring me not to worry about it, I did. I took it very personally. In the past I'd played ( in various bands) at Banbury, Bedworth and, Stratford Riverside Festivals. I've played the Godiva Festival, Earlsdon Festival, Folk On The Water and The Ragged Bear. I've played in Folk Festivals or Beer Festivals in Tamworth, Atherstone, Nuneaton, Rugby, Leamington, Astley Castle, Market Bosworth and many more. But never Warwick Folk Festival. 

I'd been close, mind.   In 2021 the band I was in at the time finally got a proper gig there. We had to sign agreements and everything. It was really going to happen. We were even featured on some of the promotional material. But one night shortly after completing the paperwork there was a big bust-up involving creative differences and some things said are still  too personal and too painful to mention. My wife had cancer and was also recovering from Covid so I was very stressed and maybe could have handled things better. But the band imploded and the next morning I had to undergo the humiliation of contacting the Warwick organisers to apologise and to explain we would not now be able to appear.

Which is strange, very very strange, because a month or so later and under a different name but with exactly the same format minus one that same outfit, with the same line up but under a different name miraculously DID appear at Warwick Folk Festival and have done so every year since. They may even have done the same set list we were half-heartedly rehearsing on that fateful night. I wouldn't know. I haven't seen any of them since that day. 

Thereafter until The Hawkesbury Trawlermen hove more visibly into view, there was little chance  that I would ever get even a fringe spot. But we've been making a bit of a name for ourselves locally as the country's most landlocked Shanty Crew. Due to a late cancellation we actually managed to blag a Friday night spot in the centre of Warwick.

Despite having an aggregate age of somewhere near 600 years, we went down really well. Winning over a mixed crowd including a large group of lads and lasses who admitted afterwards that they had "only come in for a pint." They  stayed there throughout however, clapping and cheering. They sang along to the end of our set. They also took the trouble to come up afterwards and tell us how much they had enjoyed it all. There were some regular Folkies in there too but the rest of the clientele seemed to like what we did also. A few extras outside heard all the noise and came in to listen. In fact, shiver me timbers and belay there but we think we might be going back to the same venue, blue striped matelot shirts and all-and this time probably well before the next Warwick Folk Festival. 

So perhaps we need to make a film about it? We always say at the end of our gigs, "If you liked us we are The Hawkesbury Trawlermen. If you didn't, tell your friends you've seen Fishermen's Friends."  Brad Pitt can play me and I see Johnny Depp as Webby. Watch this space. 

Another Man Done Gone

 But this time it is THE man who done gone. John Mayall. He once wrote, in an eponymous title track for one of his many albums "You know I've been born to trouble/and it's a Hard Road 'til I die." Well: he is about to find out if it gets any easier afterwards. I've been to California where he eventually settled. Parts of it are idyllic. I imagine that's how it would look, if he makes it to heaven.

I first saw and heard John Mayall's Bluesbreakers at The Lanchester Polytechnic in 1967. "The Lanch" (Now Coventry University), was ( thanks to a potent Students Union Entertainments Committee) one of the best rock venues in Coventry at that time. I was still in Sixth Form. I went along with Ron Cook, little knowing that he would later become a world famous actor. Ron and I both attended Caludon Castle Comprehensive School, known to ex pupils as "Cally."  Little did I know either that night, that half a century on, I would still be occasionally fronting  Blues bands and singing songs by Muddy Waters or Howling Wolf. Or that I would meet John Lee Hooker about 18 months after that epic Lanch gig.

Through my love of The Animals and The Stones I was already well aware that night of the fact that white British Blues players were taking the indigenous music of the USA back home and rocking stadiums with it. So The Wolf and Muddy and Sonny Boy Williamson, I was familiar with.  I loved the Pretty Things The Artwoods and The Yardbirds too, so I knew who Jimmy Page Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton were. But I'd never really heard of Peter Green until someone played me the Hard Road album. Wow!  

The line up that night included Peter Green and John McVie too, I seem to recall. Despite getting to The Lanch early, there were queues everywhere. Queues to get in. Queues to get served at the bar. The SU bar at that time was on top of a long multistorey building opposite the new cathedral. As I joined the queue, nodding to all the Cally lads waiting to get served, I began anxiously checking my watch. Suddenly the glasses behind the bar began to shake, as three floors below, the unmistakeably and thunderous opening riff to " Dust My Blues" rattled the building. Many heads in the queue lifted. They had recognised it too. I left the bar and my beer behind and joined by dozens of others, legged it athletically down three flights of stairs to catch that opening number. 

It's basically a play on the original Elmore James song "Dust My Broom." Which in turn, being electric blues is probably a riff copied by James and imitated by someone else. Since that epic night at the Lanch I've collected enough versions to compile an iPod playlist of similar interpretations. That list includes variations on a theme by Gary Moore, The Spencer Davis Group,Rising Sons, Joe Bonamassa,The Allmans Brothers and many more.. Its inclusion in the set list and on the album tells you much about John Mayall's other life as a music researcher. Like Cyril Tawney, A.L. Lloyd or Alan C. Lomax, Mayall had been  travelling documenting and collecting material whilst I was still at Primary School.

So as well as being enjoyable, listening to any album curated by Mayall was both educative and  entertaining. Though he was respectful to the background and legacy of the blues, he was not afraid to experiment and to interpret differently. What struck me that night (and ever since)  was his instrumentation. Though notorious for developing and then losing guitar players like Clapton, Green and Mick Taylor, he could play guitar, decent harmonica and piano himself. That taught me that besides guitar geniuses like Buddy Guy and BB King there were also Bluesmen who specialised in other instruments. Like Otis Spann on piano. Much (much) later I found  that a good harmonica player could really enhance the performance of an ordinary blues song. 

To some extent, the experimentation made his albums infuriating. Each one was very different. The personnel seemed to change regularly. As did the material. I revisited the original Bluesbreakers album (the one with Clapton reading the Beano on the cover) and adored it. I bought  Hard Road and I love it still. Later I really liked Blues from Laurel Canyon recorded after Mayall had fallen in love with and moved to, California. Those three remain my favourites.  I still have them on CD and the original vinyl. One thing I often struggled with was his vocal range. It was remarkable. He could hit high notes with window-shattering ease. But he could also growl or moan the blues. He was not averse to singing Blues unaccompanied. Something I can assure you, is very difficult. 

Mayall was a trailblazer an innovator and an evangelist. He seemed to be always seeking something or someone new. He took a very obscure genre and highlighted its virtues to a wider audience by demonstrating just where the blues could go. And they did not always have to be miserable. "Leaping Christine," for example is a high tempo jolly rompalong song. "Walking on Sunset" is a joyous celebration of the new lifestyle he had adopted in the USA. 

John Mayall took grief and loss very personally. He outlived many Blues legends and had as they say, "a good innings".. One of the most unusual tracks I ever heard him sing was " The Death of J.B. Lenoir." A haunting mournful song about the loss of a friend with a typical almost falsetto vocal, a protesting saxophone solo and unmistakeable sadness in the  phrasing. Now it's time for those who loved his work to write a blues for John Mayall.  "It's Over," he  sang on Hard Road.  Well it is now, 

Happy 21st Birthday to The Tump

 Now based in Coventry, The Tump name is derived from its original setting  at Brinklow. As  it relocated, it retained the name. Brinklow is  the site of a Motte and Bailey castle. The Tump in Brinklow was (and still is) an ancient monument visible for many miles around. It must have been quite a sight  when occupied by defenders, holding out against various invading hordes. 

I have always had an affection for this club. Its attendances vary wildly but it has always carried the Folk Club banner aloft. In various guises I think I have performed at each one of the venues. It moved from   Brinklow into Coventry, and settled at Coombe Social Club. I knew this venue well as I used to work nearby and lived in Coombe Park Road for 16 years when first married. I even had my retirement party there!  Finally settling at its current base at The Humber, it has soldiered on there since through the rough and the smooth supported by a committed bar staff, willing supporters, some loyal regulars and led by the iconic Karen Orgill. Karen is quietly efficient, a thoroughly likeable and decent person and notably one of the few long-serving female Folk Club  organisers in the Midlands. Cheerful, smiley, very astute and utterly committed to sustaining good live music, Karen's stoical support for all things Folk is universally admired and respected.

Nigel Ward and Pete Willow

I have always  loved playing The Tump at this particular site, however. This is because it holds many happy memories for me. In 1971 I was working as a Gardener for Coventry City Council Parks Department. Our bothy was sited just up the road in Gosford Green. Two days before my wedding, we all knocked off at lunchtime (with the blessing of The Gaffer) and had a bit of a session in The Humber. The pub looked very much as it does now although at that time it had a Bowling green with shelters out the back. I was ceremonially driven home afterwards in a three wheel Lister Truck with a 56lb of grass seed provided as a wedding present.

Also, I grew up in this part of Lower Stoke. As a kid I lived in nearby Northfield Road. At that time the Coventry-Nuneaton "relief line" bisected the area.  I fell asleep at nights to the lullaby of locos shunting the yards up at Gosford Green depot,  with the clanging of wagons and the whistles of engines warning  To access Humber Road from our street was an exciting trip across a huge and very long metal footbridge which vibrated as you crossed it. There is no archaeological evidence of this line having ever existed anywhere now except for an overbridge in Terry Road and an embankment near Gosford Park School. Here's a photo of it taken on a foggy day in the 1950's

I always though that The Tump would flourish in this area, being so close to the city centre and situated now in the heart of what has become  Student Land. But Folk and acoustic venues in my home town do not seem to thrive as much as in nearby Warwickshire Towns such as Rugby, Leamington ,Nuneaton, Bedworth and Atherstone. Nonetheless, it has kept going, has always attracted a fine selection of guests and maintained a healthy reputation for providing songwriters, local talent and newbies with a place to experiment and develop their skills. Here's Max Wright [below] holding forth at The Humber before an assortment of celebrities!

I have many happy memories of The Tump at The Humber. Probably the best of which is the Rod Felton Tribute night when I got to sing Roddie's wonderful "Curly song, accompanied by  musicians no longer with us such as Dave Parr and Arnie Chave. [ See picture below]. I also got to meet "Curly" herself later that evening. The Concert room was packed. The audience spilled out into the garden and the surrounding streets were full of parked cars. 

Arnie, Dave and Geoff sing "Curly" 

Karen was kind enough to offer bookings to all the bands I have been in. We were always well received at The Tump and the chorus singing was always energetic and lively. I cannot list all the artistes I saw there for the first time. Many of whom I would later invite out to Nuneaton Folk Club, or spin their songs on "Anker Folk." But of particular note, Cliff Hands, Wes Finch, Ian Bland, Adam Wilson and Urban Fox stick in the mind. It has always been a good place to network and to link up with like minded people. Whether in the Concert Room or in the cosier Snug at the front of the building, it is always friendly: always hospitable. Can you spot Ian and Cliff below?

It has also regularly been a calling place for legends. Kevin Dempsey. Rob Armstrong. Jan and Terry Wisdom, Sean Cannon, Keith Donnelly, Terry St Clair and John Richards for example. 

John Richards shining on at The Tump

Terry St Clair

Terry and Jan

But it has also been an oasis for the eccentric and the left field. People like me, or my good friend Aral Hancox. The ubiquitous and seemingly eternal Rob Oakey. Poets, singers, raconteurs, comedians and entertainers. They all find a welcome at The Tump where Karen will happily give them time and space to exercise their talents and perhaps to exorcise a few demons. 

John B. Smith with a "recitation"

Sir Robert Oakey

As I said, even though I have long been an Out of Towner now, I am still amazed that it hasn't been supported more. I recommended to The City of Culture Bods that they should make The Tump and CV Folk the centerpiece of Folk culture, representing all that was good and organic about Folk and acoustic music. Like pretty well all suggestions made to the C.o.C. mandarins, it was ignored however. Any music of that nature provided during the event  ( and God knows there wasn't much) was simply  imported. Probably at great cost when many of us locals would have performed for free. 

So Happy Birthday, Tumpers. Apologies if I haven't mentioned all of you by name-but you know I love you all. The photographs btw are a mixture of mine, some by JBS and a few others. I can't be there for personal reasons I have already shared with Jane and Kazz. But I thank you for all the fun and the memories you have provided, and I wish you all the best as I  raise my glass to another 21 years of Tumping. (My, but that sounds slightly rude, doesn't it? And why not?) 

May Frolics at The Albany

Other than a couple of outings with The Hawkesbury Trawlermen this was my first public appearance in any Folk Venue since I stepped down as compere and organiser at Nuneaton Folk Club in February. I was ring rusty and not a little bit disoriented by the time  I arrived for the Sound Checks. Not helped by dropping and breaking my prescription sunglasses in the Car Park whilst trying to read the totally unfathomable Cov. Rugby Club instructions. Having guessed that a fiver would suit, the machine told me it would buy me only two hours. Daylight Robbery.

The drive in from Outer Warwickshire had been more like entering Colorado than Coventry. My car thermometer registered 27c as I circumnavigated The Ring Road. I'd played The Albany studio before several times in other guises including  appearances there with both Nunc and  The Hawkesburys.  I knew the venue had been given a makeover there, but that does not really cover what I saw on entering. Talk about the WOW! Factor. 

All facilities are now  downstairs and all are on one level. Probably the best facilities I have seen in Coventry, Warwickshire and The Midlands.  The washrooms (US-style euphemism there) would make Tim Martin envious. No more trekking up flights of stairs or stumbling out into a freezing Portakabin to spend a penny. The bar area has been moved, relocated and enlarged, too. The Foyer is bigger than ever and very professional looking. For anyone who remembers the previous layout, The Studio performance area itself is now fully enclosed, with doors some of the staff refer to as "The Air Lock" stopping any noise bleed filtering in from outside. The curtains on the corridor side are now permanently open and all of these improvements definitely make the acoustics better than ever. The staff were all marvellous too. Helpful, courteous and kind. From our Sound Technician to the bar and counter staff, the meeters and greeters and security. Great ambassadors for the theatre. 

I wouldn't say I was subbing for Pete Willow last night, more appearing there as Guest M.C.-a role Pete has trusted me with previously.  In fairness, having seen Pete a few hours before kick off he wasn't going to be stepping out anywhere soon. In his quest to becoming Folk's Bionic man, he was recovering from a recent knee replacement.  Another one, apparently. 

The headline act were Liam Vincent and The Odd Foxes of whom more later. As has happened before at CV Folk I was handed a radio mike to begin with. It worked ok in the Sound check but died on me instantly during my opening sentence at 7,30pm . Hand mikes  don't like me and the feeling is mutual. From then on I relied on voice projection. Good job I can reach the back of a room that size without artificial amplification.  To warm the audience up I began with a shanty from The Hawkesbury's Set list-" Donkey Riding." With a health warning first that this was not the version which some of us had learned learned from BBC Schools Radio, but a much saltier original version. The audience sang along gamely. 

We actually all needed warming up as the air conditioning was set a little too high-or low initially. The  icy air which had already blasted all of Pete's meticulously compiled fliers across the room was a distraction-someone I think must have adjusted it later. I followed up with Woody Guthrie's epic " Vigilante Man" : a song I'd sung with four different bands. Written in 1940, It rails angrily against "The Authorities" persecuting The Homeless, The Poor and displaced persons sleeping  rough. Some politicians today would now call this a life choice. What a shame this kind of bullying still exists 84 years on.  

First up was Jamie Scott. I'd not seen him before. If I had I would have invited him over to Nuneaton Folk Club. Jamie had two guitars-one was a beautiful resonator. I'm a sucker for that sound, be it Dobro, National Steel or a wood bodied one like this. Totally authentic and using a bottleneck to produce an authentic steel effect, Scott played a tidy mix of his own stuff and some covers of blues originals. I loved his version of Robert Johnson's "Dust My Broom." Last week would have seen the ninth birthday of my twin Grandsons Robert and ray. Christened after the great man himself. Like Robert they died too early, so it was a poignant moment for me. 

 I'd sung "If I Had Possession"  another Robert Johnson classic, fronting several bands also. Indeed, I'm so Nerdy I have compiled a playlist of artistes who have had a go at the Elmore James style Dust My Broom riff. Spencer Davis, John Mayall, Clapton, Peter Green, Jeremy Spencer, The Allmans, Canned Heat,Taj Mahal-they've all had a punt. When Jamie began, the drum kit behind was vibrating to the tone of his voice and the steel strings. Kudos to The Foxes drummer who surreptitiously nipped through the curtains and tightened down the snare to stop that. it was that kind of night. Very friendly and lots of mutual support.

Next up were Julie Neal and Robert Small. The last time I'd seen Julie, she had lost her voice completely-and it had looked serious. She was always one of the best ragtime/fingerpicking players on the circuit and latterly she'd been of necessity just playing instrumentals with Robert stepping in and adding a contribution. To my delight Julie not only introduced some of the numbers but actually sang along in some of the choruses. Theirs was an eclectic and entertaining set with material ranging from Freight Train to Elvis Presley. 

Then came the interval, with me trying to persuade people to part with some money to show their appreciation for the show so far and for what was to come. As we commenced the second half I sang "Di Di The Ice Cream Man," which is oft requested. Hopefully I will finally get that song recorded and released along with some others later this year.

That done, I was able to hand the rest of the evening over to Liam and Co. Their set was energetic and absorbing with songs that were by turns intense and thoughtful. There was good interplay and exchange between the lead musicians which included violin, electric and acoustic guitars. The rhythm section set up a good solid platform to mount this on, with some solid electric bass work and powerful drumming reinforced by substantial amplification.  

Foxes and Folk seem to go together. Mr. Fox were a 1970s electric folk supergroup who produced a seminal album in "The Gypsy." The 13 minute title track was revolutionary for its time and is still well worth a listen. Fleet Foxes have a retro crossover sound featuring layered harmonies. And our own local Urban Fox are making a name for themselves since they formed only a few years back. We've featured all three on "Anker Folk." Signs are that Odd Foxes will be joining them soon. There's actually not much odd about them, although they are very diverse-so in that sense the different component parts give you plenty to look at and listen to. 

Next on at CV Folk at The Albany Theatre are Tu-Kay and Ryan supported by Katherine Abbot and Yonderland on 9th June. Kevin Dempsey is also putting on a guitar workshop there in June. Give the venue a try if you've not been there before. Or go back if you are a previous visitor and check out the vast improvements. 

As for Liam Vincent and the Odd Foxes they are next in Cov at the two day MotoFest on Saturday 1st June. There's a bit of a Vulpine theme that afternoon, with Urban Fox on at 1.20pm and the Odd Variety closing the show, due on stage at 4.05pm. Precinct Stage and free, with me in charge of them again. Check 'em out  

After The Gold Rush: Folk Clubs in Crisis?

           Before  Covid, sometimes (but not always), there was a certain degree of co-operation between venues in pre-planning Concerts, Festivals and Folk Nights. Resulting in some success in avoiding duplicate bookings.  The intention was  that Folk venues in the same area were not always competing with each other. In Warwickshire, a vibrant hub of local talent which also attracted artistes of National and International status, this was only partially successful.

          A few venues remained unwilling to work in partnership or collaboration. Some had access to Arts Council funding  or other sources of revenue so they thought they were above working together and did not need it. If they ran at a loss then so be it- for it was only other peoples’ money they were spending. They booked who they liked when they liked. They could afford to operate without worrying about income streams. They sold tickets or took money on the door. Unlike non-profit making venues which operated free admission and relied on goodwill, audience donations, jug collections and raffles to cover their expenses.

       Another source of division began with Covid and lockdowns. The profusion of online home-recorded concerts, sometimes daily, on public media platforms such as Zoom, Windows, Facebook, You Tube,  FaceTime etc. was a source of revenue for professional musicians. Indeed their only one, other than album sales, during Coronavirus. So it was perfectly understandable. But it encouraged delusions of grandeur in other performers and artistes. Podcasts, house concerts and daily outpourings of sometimes mediocre music suddenly proliferated. The Internet was swamped with them, Audiences had more and more choice and after a sudden impact, public interest soon waned.

       As Covid cases fell, established  Clubs started reopening again. But suddenly people who could broadcast their own material from living rooms and bedsits across the nation ( indeed around the world), had convinced themselves that they were now Folk Royalty.  Without a live audience from which they could gauge reaction, this was an easy trap to fall into. 

     More and more people had convinced themselves it was time to launch their own new initiatives. After all, standing on a “live” stage in a club or theatre had always looked so easy. They’d now done it at home in hallways and kitchens. Armed with newly honed skills acquired via months of practice in isolation and a fondly imagined invisible army of new admirers, scores of new venues suddenly opened. Sometimes in direct competition with each other. There simply was not enough of the pie to go round.  Since the end of Lockdown, Festivals also simultaneously proliferated. Where there were once only a few dozen a year there are now dozens each month. Also competing for the same potential audience. And competing for the same limited income stream. 

     As the  previously well supported clubs fought to re-establish themselves, the understandable anxieties of  potentially vulnerable people meant that initially they stayed away in droves. Some never came back.  The rush of dreamers seeking fame and fortune continued however. As venues reopened their doors to welcome what these performers  hoped would be queues of adoring fans, the Gold Rush just did not happen. What resulted was sometimes just an unsightly turf war.

          Libraries, small independent theatres, Village Halls and Arts Centres were now amongst those up against previously well patronised Folk Clubs and Open Mic sessions. In parallel with Singarounds, Along with Open Mic sessions, busking  and all kinds of communal music activities, the result was that in some small towns one had the ridiculous spectacle of venues  promoting live music of a similar nature sometimes seven days a week. This natural competition might have been healthy in a stronger financial climate, but the spectres Of Post-Covid , Brexit shortages , Climate Change, a Fuel and Energy crisis and a Cost of Living disaster spiralling out of control combined to ensure that audiences declined.  There were exceptions-but this was a discernible trend.     

         Money became tighter and worries exacerbated. However great the attraction, no-one could afford to go out four or five nights a week even if they had the appetite for it.  Whether  it was Eddie Reader or Steeleye Span or just Ted and Carol playing Ralph McTell covers in the local pub, audiences disheartened  by two years of pandemic and the increasingly less well off, had to exercise discretion.  As  2022 then 2023 ploughed towards more austerity, cutbacks and a tanking economy, empty seats increased and bar takings plunged.

      NFC  throughout my tenure there had fantastic support from the management of The Crew after migrating to it from another town centre pub. We had access to a concert room  free of charge. We did not have to pay for the Sound Engineer (using a state of the art mixing desk), or for use of a concert standard stage with lighting, either.  We had our own separate entrances, our own refurbished toilets and our own bar again staffed at no charge to us. We were able to attract high quality acts of the highest status because they simply loved playing the venue. 

         The Queens Hall had air conditioning and specially imported air filters were added  to help assuage the anxieties of returning punters after the pandemic. But still across the area the counter attractions came. Newly opening  or relaunching venues and still all competing for the same demographic. The end result was inevitable. Common sense was needed and it was not always demonstrated. Due to this  frail grip on reality by some speculators and wannabees, everyone suffered.  

Unsustainable?

NFC at The Queens Hall boasted a separate bar, separate toilets, a  separate downstairs entrance and a professional Sound Engineer. There is  often locally brewed FRESH Real Ale from Church End available on hand pulls every first Wednesday. Rich Burlingham was  a supportive and engaged guv'nor. Most  Bands and Artistes loved playing the venue.  But despite our Facebook Group Page numbers passing the 545  point, on Wednesday 7th July 2023,  a maximum of 23 people were in the room at any one time. Of those,15 were audience members. Over 500 Facebook Group "members" professing an interest in the Club did not attend. Most are never there.  June had seen an almost identical pattern. It was never full up to when I finally let go  in February 2024.

Immense thanks, love and admiration to the handful of people who turned up regularly. Those  committed enthusiasts who continued regularly to support Nuneaton Folk Club.  Songs old and new. Blues, Trad Arr and some Americana. Choruses you could sing along to. Jigs and reels.  All played by people of extraordinary technical musical ability. 

In these circumstances, some of the online protests about losing art and cultcha in the region, vociferously raised elsewhere on social media platforms, ring a little hollow. Objections about the permanent closure of Bedworth Civic Hall for instance. It is often said of venues that we should " use them or lose them." This was never more true than NFC immediately post-Pandemic, during a Recession and in a Cost of Living Crisis. I began to ask myself: was asking top drawer professional musicians to travel in from afar to play to a nearly empty room fair? It was certainly not financially sustainable. We had to add our own money to the meagre collection some months.

Despite nights of brilliant musicianship on first Wednesdays plus the the enthusiastic involvement of paid and volunteer staff, not many local people voted with their feet and turned up to see it. This is surely cannot be a reflection on the artistes we brought in? They are top class and some of the best on the Folk Circuit. We have put on 125 different acts at NFC since we first relaunched. Browsing the Gallery section on the NFC website will show the calibre of those who who have played there. Ex-members of Bellowhead, Dando Shaft and The Dubliners. Artistes who have appeared on t.v. and radio. Artistes who headline mainstream festivals. Artistes who have written songs for and performed with, Fairport Convention. They all want to come and play this fabulous venue..

There comes a time when running a Folk Club becomes an expensive hobby rather than a service to the community. It seems that at NFC I was heading towards that point. Inquests and analyses seem increasingly pointless. Was it the weather? The "LIve" counter attractions nearby? Is it because we have a few stairs leading up to the venue? Was it because Arsenal or West Ham were on t.v. and Warwickshire was suddenly awash with faux Cockerneys? No. None of these. The fact is that there are more Deliveroo drivers than members of the public in Nuneaton Town centre on First Wednesdays at 7pm. Therein lies one of the problems. Only Greggs, McDonalds and Wetherspoons are usually open by then-the rest of the area is a pigeon infested wasteland. The town centre dies after 8pm -and that is exactly how some people want it.

But there is venue overload. Across Warwickshire. I spoke about this at a workshop held at The Temperance in Leamington. Periodic ticketed events are laid on regularly elsewhere. Sometimes within only 48 hours of our own event. So we are in direct competition with wonderful but often subsidised guest lists with some budgets being propped up by Arts Council funding. There can be as many as six out of seven days a week in Nuneaton when live and acoustic music is operating in various venues. Some insist that, we are not in competition. But we are. However much local people like Folk or acoustic music they have neither the money or the desire (nor the time!) to go out several nights a week.

So it became a choice between Ted and Ernie playing Kazoo and Whistle in The Dog and Whistle or high calibre Guests prepared to travel well over 150 miles for the proceeds of a jug collection. Having all of these venues operating simultaneously in a small town with a reluctance to consult, co-operate or collaborate on some form of co-ordinated approach is simply unsustainable. It's a matter of who blinks first before there are casualties. In the case of me running NFC, I just hit the wall. My wife's illness and Jury service accelerated my decision-but it became inevitable each time I saw that half-empty hall.

I've given it my best shot since 2014 but that was evidently not good enough. I don't want a Turf war. I'm too tired and disillusioned. Someone else has an opportunity to demonstrate how it is done properly. (Good luck with that).