Last night I was in the company of the Sly Old Dogs and Friends at The Bell, Monks Kirby. It drew a hectic (for me!) but comforting programme of four live performances in seven days to a close. In contrast to some other pub venues I've sung in recently, a welcoming host, free food (offered without demanding gratuity or reward), and a building overflowing with customers on a cold Sunday night out in the Warwickshire Tundra. Good to see some friendly faces fresh from our, erm, experience last Monday there, too.
I do like this particular venue. It reminds me of the Folk Clubs of my youth. A huge room, with good acoustics, and a separate bar. Plus, the singing from the audience here really is rather good. This all seems to lift the performers, and they respond with spirit. The musicianship is accomplished and varied, reflecting a group of friends who are obviously relaxed in each others' company. There is good natured banter between the audience and the performers. The material is mostly(but not exclusively) traditional-but the format is refreshingly fluid. That fluidity is infectious. I went along with a set idea of what I was going to sing-but changed it completely over the course of the evening.
I had been working hard for example, on resurrecting one of my favourite folk melodies recently-the bittersweet “Peggy Gordon”. I renewed acquaintance with this song, after seeing a disturbing version of it during that excellent Ray Winstone film “The Proposition.” I'd thought about giving it an airing last night. But the guy next to me sang it as I was thinking! How often this happens when trying out a new song. It was a slightly different version to the one I've been working on-so I might still give my version a go if they'll have me back. And I managed to sing along with every verse, without the words and from memory. (Wonder if I can do that solo!)
My first song instead was therefore the blatant crowd-pleaser. “Black Velvet Band”. Although this is on our 2008 CD, I'm just not allowed to do it with the band any more. BVB was one of the only songs I sang in public during the couple of decades when the Parrot were “resting”. It was one of the first I remember hearing sung in Folk Clubs. Belfast, a Partitioned Ireland, petty street crime, Alcoholism and Transportation are perhaps things the Guardian-Reading, Knit your Own Tofu Tree-Huggers would probably rather not think about. But Hey! That's Folk Music-sometimes it speaks the unspeakable! I suspect the other Parrots feel it's dated, schmaltzy, corny and just too, well, Irish. It may well be,but the audience didn't seem to mind, roaring the choruses out with gusto. Despite me pitching it down in a vocal area Pete Willow later described as “Lee Marvin/Paint Your Wagon territory”. That's just one of the challenges of not playing an instrument, and in singing unaccompanied when you've spent the last thirty years or so fronting a band. As the nice lady sitting next to me very kindly said, “ it must be very difficult.”
It is. Little voices in your head say, just as you're standing up and clearing the tubes, “ I think it's about here.” Once under way, the nerves kick in, and the same voice mutters “ Are you sure? Is that not a little too high? Too low? Too fast? Too slow?” (With a band intro, you follow whatever tempo and key they begin in!) In the third verse I also inexplicably and incorrectly referred to the “roving black eye “ of the thieving miscreant luring young country boys into trouble on Broadway, as a “roving glass eye.” Well that got a good laugh, didn't it!
Along with some country influenced stuff , came another one of my favourites, “The World Turned Upside Down. ” I have always really liked the Dick Gaughan version of this immensely. Now that's what I call ANGRY! Along with a couple of excellent comedy songs, we then seemed to hit a seafaring patch, trading songs about whaling, trawling, and angling for Perch in the Oxford Canal with a stick float and a size 14 hook. (Actually I made that last one up). It was good to hear " The Little Pot Stove", popularised on the Nic Jones's Penguin Eggs album, given an enthusiastic rendition here.
Inevitably with a seafaring theme, Yarmouth got a few name checks. Three songs at least, as I made a late decision to drop "Vigilante Man" and do “Shoals of Herring” instead. (a request!). Got hoisted by my own deck winch there as it happned, as I'd left the full lyrics at home. Ewan McColl is another folk voice I grew up enjoying. Both Shoals and The Thirty Foot Trailer we used to do, when we ran the Folk Club in Brinklow many years ago, It was always a truncated version of Shoals we did. The full radio documentary version is quite long, but since I've started doing solo spots, I've revisited it. However, confidently striding out to the car during an interval, I realised that it was this full version I'd left on the music stand at home, after using it as my “warm-up” piece this week! Ah well. Our Drifter didn't quite make it to Canny Shiels, but the audience didn't seem to mind a shorter version. The little voice in my head incidentally, this time suggested pitching this one a little too high, so my eyes were watering by the end.
I must mention the magnificent medley of Morris tunes which the ensemble plays during the third part of the evening. Featuring a brass section, and a Tuba sustain note which just goes...on and on. Remarkable. And very foot-tappingly infectious.
We'd already had songs about a Teddy Bears Orgy and a monumental pub crawl of Manchester. ( Took me back to the stag “do “at Nottingham Beer Festival in October!) So I felt it appropriate to do a medley of erm, adapted and personalised Christmas Songs as my finale. Well it was Advent Sunday. This is a little collection BPS have put together over the years, as part of a Christmas Party package. That raised a few laughs too.
The company finished (as they always do) with a version of "Wild Mountain Thyme." This is a very different version to the (Alex Campbell?) one I've learned and performed over the years. There must be half a dozen versions of this song doing the rounds in Folk Clubs, but in most venues, it's always belted out magnificently by all. I really enjoyed the evening. Thanks to all The Dogs and the Audience for indulging me. Hope to see you again soon.
