Christmas at Church.

      Firstly, let's look on the bright side and count our blessings. Number one: we got there and back safely. Number Two: last night we raised shed loads of money (£132) and collected trolleyfuls  of food.  All of which will be donated to Nuneaton Food Bank. Some poor soul who doesn't share The Bullingdon Boys mantra of “we're all in this together” will hopefully now have a better Christmas  as a result of that. We would have collected even more food if everyone had read their Facebook messages beforehand! We had a huge turnout, which was SO commendable given the conditions. There were plenty of laughs-some rehearsed some not.

     Our set was enjoyable to play and judging by the audience reaction, they had a great time, too. The chorus singing was epic: the participation immense. The bar seemed to be doing a roaring trade and the car park was full, if a little like Lake Ontario at times. Church End Brewery, one of my favourites ( I have their t-shirt), did Black Parrot Seaside the honour of naming a beer after us. Sadly, as I was driving, I stayed on  soft drinks and bottled water. Anyway, here it is. Good times.  Manly hugs to whoever was responsible. And thanks for presenting me with the Pump Clip afterwards!

       Even getting to windy, rain-lashed, isolated Ridge Lane last night took a Superhuman effort. In broad daylight it is a pleasant spot, high up in the Nuneaton Fells, with picnic tables affording panoramic views over North Warwickshire. In the dark, with an approach through woods that wouldn't disgrace the film set of Mordor, it was intimidating. Later, as the refugees trickled in, I heard of acts of real heroism out on the road. Like the newly qualified novice driver who, on arriving at Wood Farm Brewery Tap, many miles away in Leicestershire, reset the satnav and ploughed on. In foul weather, she drove her car and her passengers back up the A5 and through the Nuneaton Everglades. Well done, Kathy. Like those who worked late, snatched a bite to eat and came from Coventry, Bulkington, Beduff and Burbage to cheer us on. Well done for even getting there.
     Yes, last night, "even getting there"  in itself was challenging. Let alone setting up, getting the sound right, marshalling floor spot performers and (unsuccessfully) attempting to get all those who wanted to, herded into the back room for the AFC Christmas party. I arrived early in a well-intentioned but entirely unsuccessful attempt to bring some semblance of order to the night's proceedings. As things turned out, we had at least three big introductions, only one of which was rehearsed. Or correct. Due to the furniture configuration, a few dozen Parroteers could not even get into the room for the first half. Including me. Hence my coat, my props, the food donations, the lavatory and my family were all scattered round different points of the building. My blood pressure readings at this point would have been interesting. And potentially fatal.
     I got soaked to the skin unloading gear-even though the journey from car to performance area was less than the length of the bar. The bags of props, novelties, food donations and costumes fought with the assembled ranks of instrumentation, giving performers (especially those of generous proportions), little room to manoeuvre. As members of the band continued to straggle in, they brought reports and rumours of the roads flooding. By the start, I was texting those who hadn't arrived to turn back. Ever the optimist, me!

       But we finally got on, beyond  tennish. Last night's Black Parrot Seaside line-up (above) was the usual three suspects, supplemented by Malc Gurnham on acoustic bass and David Parr on guitar. With a delightful debut on Concertina from John Meacham-the 26th musician to have guested with the ever-expanding BPS Collective.

     Having heard the way poor old Steve Beeson "died" first half, each time he manfully strove to read one of my carefully scripted news items, we dispensed with the “Last Week's Quiz “ stand-up items, and just ran through a pre-arranged set list.  We had successfully imported a large family group from the other room, and they ably assisted with distribution of items ensuring that audience participation was maximised. So much so that not all of it came back afterwards. Here's the set list:

The Odeon                        

All Over Now                     

The Bold Pirate

Lighten Up It's Christmas

Bring It On Home              

Here it is Merry Christmas 

At The Septic Monkey  
The Whistler 
The Santa Claus Express
Christmas Carols  and Songs Medley
What a Folking Liberty    
Albert Balls   

   " The Whistler" and "Santa Claus Express " were hilarious, thanks to an audience participation performance which would have had Gareth Malone weeping. "Septic Monkey " was another highlight, with our own rigged in house "Raffle" expertly co-ordinated from the floor by ex-PennyRoyal singer Fiona Coulson.  Disturbingly,some of the more horrible prizes were retained by audience members. I expect they'll feature in a Secret Santa somewhere, over the next few days?                                    

    Besides Resident House Band Finger Up The Khyber,  there were loads of floor singers first half and second half. John Meacham, Brian and Marie, Ian Bland, Dave Walker, Malc and Gill amongst them. But I couldn't see or hear much of it, as I became trapped in the other bar, and was unable to regain my strategic position front of house. I was however, able to assist Messrs Parr, Gurnham, Beeson and Benson (Solicitors?) in a memorable Club mix of Abba and Pinky and Perky. Yes I know it isn't folk. But who gives a Folk if people are enjoying themselves? 

    I've been to every AFC session so far. But Lordy, it was crowded in there last night! And hot. On each occasion, early attendees, few of whom I recognise,  rapidly invade the performing area, like patients colonising a Doctor's Waiting Room.  Once ensconced  there, a few nurse a half pint for hours and seem  reluctant to move. Except when the interval raffle is announced.  When the rush for the exits is palpable. We could do with a retired bus conductor in there to encourage responsible crowd control. Or perhaps install some Proms-style crush barriers. But in the absence of that, some serious table-re-arranging will be required if future punters are to be able to even gain access to concerts. Still: overcrowding and congestion: what  lovely (and rare) logistical problems for Folk Club Organisers and hosts to have to ponder, eh?

 

 

Christmas is Coming and The Goose is Gettng Scared

   Next Wednesday sees the Atherstone Folk Club's First EVER  Christmas Party. At Church End Brewery Tap, Ridge Lane Warwickshire. CV10 0RD. Actually, as near Nuneaton as Atherstone. Up in the wilds,  off the B4114, but if you have a SatNav you'll be fine. Otherwise hire a minibus or come in convoy.

      Starting at 8pm, and with free admission,(other than a tin, for donation to a Food Bank-see final sentence),  what's on offer next Wednesday? Well, apart from some of the finest Real Ale brewed in the country,with 8-10 beers on draught,  just the THREE HOURS of decent live music and Festive Frolics. INCLUDING:

A First half   so jammed with guests  who have requested floor spots, that they are only getting one song each.

A Half Time Interval with a Proper , Legitimate and sensible Raffle

A Second half hosted by Black Parrot Seaside. Whose set will include:

• A five piece BPS, with the most  guitars you've seen since Wishbone Ash:
• A second, rigged, musical  Raffle-with prizes you are not going to want to miss.
• A few sensible songs:
• Covers of Sam Cook and Rolling Stones classics:
• A few slightly sillier songs:
• Answers to Last Week's Christmas Quiz:
• A Guest Appearance from a singing frog:
• Other Guest musicians: 
• A lot of chorus singing:
• Quite a bit of communal music-making from the audience (free instrumentation provided):
• Some Fancy Dress:
• No juggling:
• Risk Assessments:
• Interesting Folk- themed Variations of Traditional Carols:
• Irreverent swipes at those making immense Royalties from Shopping Mall Music

It appears that it's likely to be RAMMED-so get there early, and no sneaking out before the interval, so that you don't have to buy a raffle ticket. Cheapskate.

ALL PROCEEDS To Be donated to a local FOODBANK in time for Christmas. So bring tins. Full ones, mind -empty ones are not allowed.

In On The Act

A packed guest list for December's Club night last night, as Black Parrot Seaside hosted proceedings there and finished off the evening with a set employing  our five-piece format.

Serenading us beforehand, with a dazzling array of musicianship, were (in sequence) Phil Briggs, Mark John, Phil Benson, Malc Gurnham and Gill Gilsenan with Dave Parr,  Rob Armstrong, Dennis O'Sullivan and Bob Tibbetts. A couple of those requesting floor spots did not show-and to be honest, I don't know where we'd have put them if they had!

   How to leave an impression on arrival. 

BPS made a spectacular entrance, as Mick, our multi-instrumentalist, decided to make some technical adjustments to the very swanky window blinds in the Entrance Lobby. Mick has developed an annoying  habit of carrying his mandola in a soft case, on his back. This does leave him free to carry other instruments with both hands, but it also causes many Laurel and Hardy moments when he turns round quickly and almost decapitates passers-by . We've tried to dissuade him from doing this , as our Insurance premiums are high -but I reckon he thinks it makes him look kinda cool, like a Busker or something. Anyway, he had a joust with those blinds even before we got to the room upstairs where we would be performing. This incident so excited the musical frog concealed in my travel suitcase that it spontaneously burst into song and began croaking a very hoarse version of "Jingle bells" from inside the case.

 

    Our usual three- piece line-up was supplemented last night by Malc on acoustic bass and Dave Parr on guitar. Highlights of our set were yet more Happy Birthday songs: the argument over whether we were going to perform "Dirty Gertie" or not: (we didn't) the Singing Frog leading us into a debut version of " Lighten Up It's Christmas," and watching Phil Benson nodding off as we sang "Lakes of Ponchartrain."

 

   Hinckley Act is a very special and very different setting. It's not actually in Hinckley, but on a Business Estate just off the A5. The facilities are first class, the place is run with a high degree of professionalism, and the artistes are treated with immense respect. It is always a pleasure to play there. Everything we did was recorded-so watch this space.

" I shall sing ziz only vonce"

   " Good moaning."    The first of a two-header yesterday, came in the delightful (new-to-Folk) setting of The Larder, in Atherstone's High Street- ("This fine old town once known for hats," as one of the Nation's greatest (now 64 years old) singer-songwriters once described it).

     Run by Simon and Georgia, The Larder  is a cleverly-themed "1940's Eatery, " right in the middle of the town's Main Street. A sort of Dad's Army Bistro, with a themed menu and costumed staff included. I can personally recommend the sausage sarnies-with a choice of 4 different sorts of Banger.

     Assembled there from 2.30pm onwards were some luminaries of the North Warwickshire Folk Scene: Atherstone Folk Club residents "Finger in The Jar", John and Elaine Meacham, Bedworth Folk Festival Director  Malc Gurnham, with Gill Gilsenan, Ian Bourne, Maria Barham, and yours truly. The bemused diners, squashed into the few remaining tables, could not believe their luck as a fairly mundane Wednesday afternoon was transformed into a Wonderland of song. The group sang in rounds. The accent was largely on traditional songs with hearty choruses. Just the sort of thing to accompany Bubble and Squeak or Spam Fritters and a mug of tea. But in what is going to be a very successful setting, anything goes.

    We also had a few contemporary songs, and some unaccompanied. Towards the end, a massive wave of spontaneous nostalgia broke out, and the whole Café ran through a medley of songs with a wartime connection. Such as "White Cliffs" "Goodbye Dolly Gray"  and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary." When I left, at around 4.20pm a very long and impromptu extended mix of "Sweet Chiming Bells" had broken out, and was showing no signs whatsoever of winding down.

     

           My accompanist was delayed by some late tuition complications and so  as my contribution I was forced to sing "Black Velvet Band" " Go Lassie Go" and " On Raglan Road,"  Not all at once, of course. That would be selfish and intrusive. I took my turn like everyone else.  

 

       Maria is renowned for her wind-milling guitar style, and amongst the highlights for me was  her making some spectacular technical adjustments to the Christmas decorations with her guitar neck.. This was even before she started playing it.  And it was so touching to hear the Company  singing a couple of Birthday songs to some rheumy-eyed old codger who'd wandered in off the street. A thin thread of drool dripped slowly from his chin to the floor, as he crooned nostalgically along with them, through wizened gums. (That would be me).  

 

    It was also entertaining to see the startled looks of passers by as they paused to see where all the noise was coming from. Blimey, they haven't seen anything as mad as this since the most recent Atherstone Ball Game. (That is really mad-I can assure you).  Next one is in January. Can't wait. Not for the singing-I need to sneak in a crafty Dripping buttie whilst no-one else is watching.  I grew up on them. It's why I'm so big-boned.

Black Parrot Seaside (and friends) at Bedworth Folk Festival

      As yesterday's Church End and Hobgoblin finally wears off, it is time to reflect on our two Saturday appearances  at Bedworth's 2013  Folk Festival. Really, I'd have liked this to have been more.  In the Big Band format I think we sound really cool, and it's just so much FUN!

      Our afternoon  appearance was in the FM Lounge at Bedworth Civic Hall. We followed the superb Julie Neale. She sang and picked guitar as melodically and wonderfully as ever-although due to a previous accident, she arrived and left via a wheelchair. Get better soon, Julie!  

    
 The three-piece Parrot  were augmented by Malc Gurnham (Only the ruddy Festival Director himself -ahem!) on base, and Dave Parr on guitar.  Here's a bit of an arty shot of the five of us all on stage, courtesy of Justin Archer.

.

We started as we usually do nowadays, with "The Whistler."  It's a good ice-breaker, and often (but not always!) puts the audience into a positive frame of mind.This venerable old BPS song goes right back to our  vinyl album of 1978. It also appeared on the most recent CD. It's still a proper hoot  "live." (Literally). If you haven't seen us recently, whistles, tooters, blowers and squeaky toys are distributed beforehand. We then invite the audience to join in with us on the choruses and with the Instrumental section, mid-song. They can just whistle along if they prefer but they seem to appreciate the additional instrumentation. 

 

     Their part began pitifully to be honest, although it gets quite reasonable by the end. Frankly, it is quite shocking to see (and hear) quite how uncoordinated the British public can be. It is also very, very funny to watch them and to listen to them. Sometimes it makes me forget the words, laughing at them.

 

       We were determined to defy an occasional  media tendency to stereotype us merely as whacky zany loveable old clowns. Undeniably, we can do that, too-sometimes. Even without the music. But we followed the hilarity with three relatively straight "covers." I'd like to think that  Nic Jones, Bobby Womack, Little Willie John and  Messrs Green and  Jagger  might feel we treated "Courting is a Pleasure," " Need Your Love So Bad, " and "It's All Over Now," at least respectfully.   They went down well, but soon it was time to crank things up again. So we then delivered "The Odeon," and  "Albert Balls"  with "Lakes of Ponchartrain " sandwiched in between them. Our finale was that rugged BPS standard "What a Folking Liberty." Even the Civic Hall Staff seemed to enjoy that. 

 

     Norman Wheatley followed us onstage, delivering  a mix of mellow, mellifluous musings (he'll like that alliteration). His excellent "Disgruntled" song left nary a rib untickled.  Later, there was an impromptu encore for me, when  Damian Clarke  had become disoriented and entangled in the Civic Hall complex. This meant that temporarily we had an empty stage, so compere  Ali O' Brien invited me back up to ad lib a solo. I began "Peggy Gordon"  but three verses in, and over the heads of the audience, I could see poor old Damian in the distance, struggling towards us through a network of fire doors. Laden with his Dulcimer and Hurdy Gurdy and stuff. I could have done another nineteen verses of Peggy, but that would have put off everyone else's timings. So, (nobly I thought), I broke off abruptly and handed the baton back to Ali and  Damian. Who does indeed, make a very nice noise.  Big thanks to the FM Lounge sound crew who were attentive, skilful and sensitive to the individual quirks of the artistes.

 

      Yesterday evening we travelled back over the lunar landscape and darkened caravans of Bedworth Rugby Club car park. Being next to the by-pass, on the outer moons of Bedrock, this truly was a "Fringe" event.  This time we were based in the eerily lit music room at as part of a romp compered by the affable Bill Bates. With Justin Archer both providing the P.A. and driving it expertly. Chris Tobin kicked us off with some potent guitar licks, a scary blue light, some wonderfully nostalgic songs and  a few of his own numbers chucked in for good measure. For a while we could hear Ian Bland underneath Chris's vocals, still crooning away through the P.A. That was also a bit disconcerting, as he wasn't there. (Typical Aussie-they just have to get in on everything). I could have hugged Chris for making his encore a song which featured the audience being encouraged to whistle along with him. Because....... we opened with-you-know-what.

 

     Our  evening slot  saw a four piece Parrot,  with Malc occupied elsewhere. Dave Parr stayed with us and  gamely joined us for every song.  We performed several  tunes we'd done at The Civic, earlier, (audience musicianship during "The Whistler" was again, excruciating)  and added in "Bring It On Home" and "On Bedworth Bank." The latter was a very salty version-but it was late at night. During our set (again) I could see a potent little melodrama developing near the door, with the band and audience mostly oblivious to it.   

     Karen Orgill and her dad were politely dealing with a couple of enormous blokes who it seemed to me, had been celebrating earlier Rugby games rather too enthusiastically. Now,   I was a substantially built schoolboy ( my mum affectionately called it big-boned). So I was sometimes press-ganged into playing Rugby. Usually in the second row of the scrum. Not for long-because  as soon as I realised how brutal this activity was,  I changed codes. I was so pretty-I could not risk the broken noses and bitten ears so beloved of opposing props. These lads looked quite tasty, and visibly being pretty "relaxed", they simply felt that a little live Folk music would aid their drinking session admirably.

      For a while, things  (to me anyway), out there beyond the immediate auditorium, looked and felt a little tense. Especially as I was singing rude things about their home town and county.  However all was resolved and luckily they'd clearly not heard a word. I met the bigger lad outside later. He gave me a bear hug and told me I was "all right." At least I think that's what he said. It could have been "All Shite." He seemed to have a cold.

    

    Enchante followed us, a band we know well and vice-versa. Their whole set was sophisticated, atmospheric stuff, skilfully arranged and superbly played. What they do is a niche product, and it cleverly transports you away from cold November Beduff and into Provence in July.    Time after Time-which comprises Bill Bates and Kelvin Crompton rounded off this particular show. Polished, more than competent and performing a popular selection of tunes which got feet tapping and the audience singing. Bill concentrated on his playing more than his famed comedy antics. Which went well until his footpedal gizmo went awol. Dear old Bill.  I remain unconvinced he had mistaken my Swanee Whistle for an early vibrator. TAT (don't type an extra "W" into their abbreviated stage name), did a brilliant version of Dobie Gray's anthemic "Drift Away."  They also included several tremendous Simon and Garfunkel songs. One of which-"Kathy's Song"-contains my favourite lyric on the soulless joys (or not) of songwriting. 

 

   Afterwards I got so absorbed talking to some visitors from Bilston that I missed three phone calls and two text messages from my taxi driver who was freezing out in the car park with my late night taxi.,bless her. Love you, babe!

Bedworth Folk Festival 2014

No, you read the title above correctly. Tomorrow sees the 2013 Festival kick off, all right:  three days of Love, Peace and Good Vibes, man. (And woman) (And Ferret).  But last night saw 13 different acts raising the first funds towards next year's 2014 Festival.  (It helps to be prepared).

      Bedworth Folk Festival is unique in several ways. It is probably the U.K.'s  biggest Winter Festival. It is certainly a rarity, in being entirely Indoors. (No wellies are required except to access the Car Parks at a few of the venues beyond The Civic Hall. It includes Nationally known and loved and local acts. Without fear, favour or discrimination. That is, unlike some regional Folk Festivals, Bedworth  does not operate an unwritten Folk Apartheid Policy excluding anyone who is not part of some cosy Inner selection Cabal. And it sees "Warwickshire" as just that-not one small South-Eastern corner of the heavenly County.  Thus,  besides the visitors from afar you  can get to see an immense diversity of eclectic material at "Bedduff" and that is why performers and festival-goers embrace it each year so warmly.

      Last night saw Justin Archer, Joe Roberts, Dave Parr, Black Parrot Seaside, Maria Barham, Thru'ppnny Bits, John Kearney, Claire Latham, Terry Wisdom, Dave Fry , Phil Benson,  Malc and Gill and Brian and Marie Phillips crack on from 8.30 until late. Quite breathlessly at times. Both Justin and Claire I believe were that rare item "a Bedworth Virgin"-i.e. they appearing at a BFC venue for the first time. Justin sang one of my personal favourites from The Boss-"I'm On Fire"-and also gave us an interesting adaptation of an early Crystal's hit. Which most of us were old enough to be able to sing along with.   Joe sang  "Wabash Cannonball"  and I'm not quite sure what the other song was.

    That modest icon Terry Wisdom noodled quietly away in that inimitable, self-effacing way he has, singing "Ain't Misbehavin" and other nostalgic  classics with panache, elan and style. He and Jan are going to be doing a Black Bank Session in 2014. One not to miss. 

 

      Dave Fry had the audience rocking the walls and ceiling with a thunderous chorus of "Sweet Rose of Allandale."  Dave Parr performed solo and also later performed with two other acts. He did two slightly naughty songs solo- one of which was in every way Camp. Someone told me it was by Paddy Roberts-but I've not tracked it down yet.  I didn't have my pencil with me so I missed writing down all the other songs by other performers.But the mix was just stunning.

 

    The Black Parrot Seaside Bigger Band (us three,  supplemented by Dave Parr and Malc Gurnham)  knocked out ribald versions of "The Odeon" "Albert Balls" and "What a Folking Liberty" . It really did get rather noisy, with the chorus singing probably audible in Exhall.  However our rehearsals together have paid off- and the audience were able to laugh as much at the lyrics as at the missed chords.  I didn't miss a single cue this time, and we spent a lot of time in the right key(s).

 

   On then to the 2013 Festival, of which more later, and a busy 7 days for the various Parrot line-ups.  Do look us up if you're out and about.  And "Thrrrpppp!" to you, if you are not.
  

Over the hills and (not so) far away

      Another  gathering of the Sly Old Dogs and Friends last night, over at Monks Kirby. Earlier in the month than usual-timed so as not to conflict with the imminent Bedworth Folk Festival. http://www.bedworth-festival.info/       As it turned out, only a few of us performing there last night will actually be involved in this week's doings. 

 

    Stayaways last night  may have enjoyed X Factor and "Help I'm a Nonentity", but  they missed three bonus goodies, in the shape of Paco's Spoons, Paco's Stand-Up and Paco's Roast Potatoes. There was also (as always) some good music, a broad canvas of acoustic songs and plenty of healthy banter. Plus a hard stare from the Pub Alsatian, (probably potato-induced?), a remarkable display of ragtime guitar from a guest who sadly left after one song, and atmospherics provided by the power dipping periodically.

      

      The Dogs themselves,led by Pete Willow,  were pretty near at full strength with the exception of Richard Rider who was absent. And hadn't sent a note. They were certainly in fine fettle, and supplemented by Banjo Dave Evans, played some foot-stompin'  tunes with plenty of The Craic. They also added a few very mellow tunes also. Our audience slept fitfully, pounded the tables, read newspapers and returned choruses with only the enthusiasm a Sunday Night Bell crowd can do. Colin Squire and Martin Bushnell got very intense with something called The troll Walk. This involved real sheet music, and someone spotted the word "stave," which impressed all present. The troll took a little stumble over one very high rickety rackety bridge, but overall it was pretty impressive.

  

        Bob Brooker, as ever the  Fashionista, wore a very fetching Severn Valley Railway ensemble. His opening gambit was to slip the rug from underneath my feet by doing his own and very individual version of "Black Velvet Band." I am indebted to him for this, as it forced  me to sing something else and I'd  become lazy and over-reliant on using this as a crowd-pleaser/show stopper. And it's only really like me doing "Over The Hills" on evenings when Tony Super had intended to air it.

     So, having enjoyed Bob's "Kitten on helium" version of BVB, which fairly romped away, I introduced my first song by announcing that I was undecided on whether to start with "Bonny Light Horseman," or "Bridlington Quays." One of those is a Barnsley Nightingale song much beloved of Bob and the other is one of his. This was meant to be heavy irony . But Bob  was busy peering down the necks of various instruments  and missed this witty rejoinder entirely. I moved on to congratulate Colin Squire on singing something which had added Decorum. There were a few knitted brows at that, until I explained that this was just the Latin Name for Newcastle. I did "Peggy Gordon" for starters anyway, in case Bob had it lined up for later in the evening.

 

    Phil Benson had come along and between us we shamelessly plugged Black Parrot Seaside's Christmas Party at Atherstone Folk Club's on the 18th December. (Have I mentioned that?). He also did a couple of Keith Marsden songs. He likes KM does Phil.  

     Later,and inspired by one of Paco's  funny stories about a Spanish gentleman and his inability to differentiate between a Ram and a motorcycle, I  mused on Nuneaton Town's many jousts with Welsh football teams. I spoke some Welsh (I am  fluent in at least two phrases), and observed that any football supporters' songs about Sheep or wellingtons could nowadays get you arrested-anywhere from Wrexham to Newport. I also confided that my favourite animal joke concerns a Bear and a Rabbit, but is absolutely filthy. John Lewis  material it is not. I told them that we did a Beyonce cover about a Goat, and then with the audience now suitably baffled, I gave them a rendition of "Raglan Road." This time in a very high key, just to keep them all on their toes.

    We positively romped along through the third of three halves, and I finished my own contribution with " Lakes Of Ponchartrain." It was during this very moving rendition that the silver salver of (free!) Roast Potatoes arrived. Via the kitchens and  unseen by most of the audience. The other musicians couldn't reach them without pushing me aside,  and so without breaking stride or verse, I moved to the plate,  swept up a Roastie and a serviette, and deposited them both back on the table where I'd been sitting. That got a laugh. But then...I meant it to.

     

Ridge Lane Military Two Step

     Another wild and windy trip last night,  back across the Nuneaton Alps. For November's session at Atherstone Folk Club. Where the Featured Guests were Thrup'nny Bits.  On arrival, I parked up The Saladdin, hastily removed my bearskin and entered the premises.I soon discovered I had been duped by Club Organiser Phil Benson's into believing his Cock and Bull story about this month's session being entirely  military themed. This turned out to be not universally adhered to. Unless Donovan's "Colours" has some kind of reference to Tobruk in it, which I've somehow missed. Few songs anyone performed last night  had a direct link to the Military, although Resident House Band Finger in the Jar gave it a decent shot, in their two spots.  What a good job it was then, that I had  resisted the urge to wear full Gordon Highlander Dress Uniform whilst doing my "floor spot."

 

     Like a fool however, I had conscientiously prepared and rehearsed two appropriately martial songs, with the poignant proximity of Remembrance Sunday still fresh in my mind. I wasn't going to abandon all that  work I'd put in beforehand. I would not simply resort to some safer and more familiar Diddley Diddly music. Oh no. Edgy Leftfield material-as always.

    I thought I'd learned the words to Billy Bragg's "Between The Wars," sufficiently, but as it happened, the work I'd put in on this wasn't quite thorough enough. I sang it o.k. but I had to resort to the comfort of a lyric sheet on a nearby music stand more than once. Troubled also by a slight bout of Ridge Lane Flu (probably the altitude?) my larynx dried out so badly whilst singing this, that I had to take a slug of Goat's Milk (3.8%) to fortify myself before continuing. 

 

     Suitably recovered, I plugged several up and coming events featuring  many of  those present. I then set about  regaling the audience with "The Old Barbed Wire." What could go wrong with that trustworthy old Army standby? I sang the truncated and bowdlerised version which BPS used to perform in the 1970's. It went well enough, with the audience  singing verse and chorus along with me.  I felt that the full 20 minute version (the one where the role of each rank serving in the trenches of WW1 is individually visited and scrutinised, and ultimately, the whole Battalion end up impaled) was not suitable. However,I was reprimanded afterwards for not doing the version so beloved of NAAFIs from Catterick to Bovey Tracey.  Wikpedia confirms that there are actually several variants of OBW (besides ours), and even that Chumbawamba recorded a version  in 2003. The only commonality in all these versions is that Officers did not like it.  Apparently. 
  Sometimes, you just can't win.  I should have  done "Chicken on A Raft " instead. I had it in my pocket. (The words-not a fried egg on fried bread, which is Royal Navy Slang for this delicacy- hence "Chicken on a Raft" ).    I guess I'm on a charge, now. Jankers for me.

Here's a Mark Rider photo of me ruining Barbed Wire. You can see the back of my head as well. it's a wonder they weren't all blinded by the reflected light. That's a pukka Church End Brewery ad. on the wall in the background, by the way  

 

    There were some collectors items last night. A club debut from Peter McPartland, a singer with a really nice voice and a pleasing guitar style.  A song from Steve Beeson that was under eight minutes. (Sorry, Steve!). Two and a half songs from lovely local girl (via Saarfend), Maria Barham.  And the novelty of seeing Malc Gurnham and Gill Gilsenan heckling on the front row. When one is more used to that situation being reversed. A return to the Folk circuit for that demi-Legend John Meacham. John's had  an even longer break away from it than we had. It took several pints of Sadler's in the Felix Holt to persuade him back. John's now on a promise to join the BPS Collective for a tune at Ridge Lane next month.

 

    Two songs from a substantial portion of Green Man Rising-Steve Bentley and Andrew-preceded my little cameo.  Rousing stuff as ever from the Risings, with keeping one's feet still an impossibility throughout their slot. The Thrup'nnys then returned for a second feature. Gaz, Babs n' Dez (they'll kill me for that!)  did two excellent slots, whilst various members of the audience virtually fought over who could have custody of the dog each time they performed. It was light and shade stuff from them. Some stirring ballads: one very rude (but clever) song superbly enacted, and even a rather lovely early Christmas Carol.   The audience were also treated to not one but two separate renditions of a Sydney Carter classic, "John Ball."  One from The T. Bits and one from The Fingers. Hopefully those two bands will never merge. "Finger in The Bits" is just wrong on so many counts. Both very different: both equally enjoyable: each one having a different bird doing the carolling in the morning.  

 

   Only one tiny grumble over an otherwise totally enjoyable night-the miserable crew who slunk out at the interval so they wouldn't have to buy a raffle ticket. Not the first time they've done this-they have previous form!  Scrooge Lives! I won the raffle for them, but decided to re-donate the prize for next month's do at Atherstone. Which, I can reveal as an Exclusive here will see all proceeds that night donated to Nuneaton's Food Bank. http://nuneaton.foodbank.org.uk/

 

Now sod the John Lewis advert and their soppy cartoon bear-can you possibly get any more Christmassy than that?  Can't wait for December's session-who's on that night?

Bedworth Folk Festival and December 2013 Appearances/Updates

Bedworth Folk Festival 2013 http://www.bedworth-festival.info/

 

Hot-off-the-Press  information for any Bedworth Festival goers. We are making two appearances here, both on Saturday 30th November. One is early Saturday afternoon, in  the FM Lounge, upstairs in  The Civic Hall from 12.45 to 1.25. That's 40 minutes in old money, so do look us up if you're out and about. The same date, but in the  evening, we are part of a show compered by Bill Bates, appearing at Bedworth Rugby Club. We're scheduled to be playing for half an hour there, some time around 9.10pm.  It seems highly likely that for both of those slots, our usual three-piece format will be supplemented by BPS Collective members Dave Parr and Festival organiser Malc Gurnham.

 

Hinckley Act http://hinckleyact.co.uk/

  Only a  few days after the Festival,  Wednesday December 4th ,Black Parrot Seaside will be hosting the "Club Night"  at Hinckley Act. This should mean an extended slot from us and some fair banter whilst introducing the other guests. This is a decent club with excellent facilities, and it's easy-access/parking, off the A5, in a modern Industrial unit rather than in Hinckley itself. Admission is £3 members £4 non-members. There is a strong possibility that we will be joined on stage that night by Malc and Dave. Earlier that same day, there's the threat of some Cabaret which may involve some BPS members, at The Larder, a WW2-themed café   in Atherstone.

Atherstone Folk Club: http://www.atherstonefolkclub.org.uk/

    And for a December finale...on Wednesday December 18th, Black Parrot Seaside are honoured to be  leading Christmas Festivities at Atherstone Folk Club, which is based at The Church End Brewery Tap, Ridge Lane Nuneaton.     Again, this event is likely to feature the fully extended BPS Big Band sound-we've  already had a promise from John Meacham to make a guest appearance, for example. Can you really afford to miss some very special adaptations  of Christmas Songs and carols that night? Or Festive versions of  "The Whistler", and our twin homages to Folk Clubs and Folk Musicians? In which Audience participation is not only  guaranteed-it is mandatory? And wherein appropriate Seasonal Fancy Dress is recommended/advised?  If all this sounds like a little too much excitement,  you could always just sit and drink the excellent beer in the other room, and listen to the mayhem.  Despite the massive entertainment level, this event is FREE-the only one of the above (other than the Café) to be so.

Blowin' In The Wind

-Although it wasn't, last night, as it happened. Because Hurricane St Jude hadn't even turned up by the time I set off across the North Warks Moors. Perhaps because of the  predicted Stormageddon (which never actually materialised), the musicians and audience numbers were a little thinner on the ground than usual when festivities got under way at The Bell in Monks Kirby. Mysteriously, as each song in the initial first of three (!!) halves got under way,  a new audience member arrived. Perhaps they were all just very shy initially, and had been hiding in the other room, just waiting for us to begin.  Perhaps a fallen acorn or a confused rabbit had blocked the road, delaying their efforts to join us.  Anyway, even before the first interval, the place was almost becoming  busy as usual and the chorus singing had risen towards its usual high standard.

      The Sly Old Dogs and Friends were befriended last night by myself, Sue Sanders and Jan Richardson. It was a first MK appearance from Jan and a very welcome one. She started with a version of "Steal Away" (not that one) which was enchanting. Not to be outdone, Sue  Sanders demonstrated her versatility by putting the fiddle aside, picking up a guitar, and singing.  a spooky song about Pendle Hill. Later this pre-Halloween theme would be developed by Pete Willow, who sang a Weston and Lee song made famous by Stanley Holloway. As a kid I used to love singing the line containing  " She walks The Bloody Tower," as I could swear without getting told off for it.

 

   I launched my contribution by having a second public  bash at "On Raglan Road-"a song I am still working on. I think I've got the tune-but I'm still struggling a little with memorising the lines in the third verse. There were only a few people there to hear me try it out, which is perhaps just as well-though I was quite pleased with it, as it happens.  I was invited by Pete to conclude the first half with "something noisy we can all sing along to."  Two songs in a first half? I wasn't prepared for that. But I chucked in an old Brinklow favourite- "The Old Barbed Wire." A rapidly-growing audience sang along with it. right noisily  A few were unfamiliar with the clever little punch line at the end of the song, so it  got a louder laugh than usual. That General-he's a naughty boy, isn't he?

       The Lincolnshire Lark, Bob Brooker,  took another  Barnsley Nightingale song and cooed it out most touchingly. He goes all misty-eyed when doing Kate Rusby, Bob does.  But then.... what red-blooded man wouldn't? Bob also revisited the Remembrance theme with a touching version of "Willie McBride". Much table pounding there. We were getting wistful and nostalgic, so although I'd intended to test out "Between The Wars," I sang "Peggy Gordon", instead. With the SODs accompanying me rather nicely.

 

    Martin Bushnell regaled us with  a haunting traditional wedding song, and Colin Squire led a rousing rendition of "Yarmouth Town."    The Orchestra  treated us all to traditional favourites such as "Leaving of Liverpool" and "Jock Stewart" aka " A Man you don't meet every day."  Jan gave us several more songs including the Coffee One, and those three halves were suddenly rattling away  like no person's business.The joint was really rocking by the time Sue Sanders got her Shakers out. It would have been stupid of me not to have done "Black Velvet  Band", by this time. With no Sean Cannon in the room, and an audience who evidently wanted to sing chorus songs., it would have been rude not to. All to soon we were bellowing " Go Lassie Go" and then bidding farewell. Even if there had been a storm-we wouldn't have heard it.

A Number at The Humber

     How good it was to be back on slightly saner Cov. turf last night, in the University Quarter, for a Singers Night at The Tump Folk Club, Humber Road. And what a quality array of talent  was assembled there!

         I chose to make this another atmospheric Tump night for me personally, by getting the bus into Coventry and then walking to the venue. It also meant that I could have a pint or three. I sampled Sheffield's  finest, with some excellent Abbeydale in The  Whitefriars Ale House, then walked  again past all my old childhood haunts, savouring the memories. Last time I did this, (February) I passed my old school and my old house in Northfield Road. Last night I decided to explore instead, the Far Gosford Street and Bramble Street route. I also wanted to see how my Grandad's old house in David Road looked. 

      How radically this area has changed. Opposite what used to be The Paris Cinema was the boarded up premises of the iconic Enterprise and Variety Store. Somewhere hereabouts was a milliners, and (rather incongruously) a Coffee Bar called The Jungle. My Mum and dad thought it very degenerate. They banned my sister from it. so she obviously spent many happy hours there. Gone also from Gossie was Garners with its magnificent pies: Trout's the Bakers and an odd Philatelists nearby where I bought my first stamp album.

 

    Bramble Street was most notable for the shocking amount of litter flowing through the gutters. The detritus of thousands of post--clubbing late night meals. Chucked in the gutters rather than anywhere else. The Hare and Hounds, (now a supermarket) was my Grandad's nearest booser. He played darts for them before the Golden Cup seduced him away with a massive transfer fee.  I bought  a bag of chips from Cooper's (still good!) and  suddenly there I was opposite Grandad's old place.  Still with its high front step and the door opening straight into a front parlour. A room kept only for "best" and smelling of apples. Just a few houses up the row,  Brown's the Cobblers was long gone, and the alleyway which I once used as a  short-cut between these two parallel streets was sealed.

       The Charterhouse CIU Club was still there, in David Road,  but differently named. No more would there be lines of parked-up Godiva Bantam motor coaches, waiting ready to take coachloads of urchins to  Dudley Zoo or Wicksteed Park. ( I fell in the Boating Lake there. Granddad didn't sponsor me on many outings after that!).

     Further still up David Road I sought in vain the Elim Pentecostal Church, which temporarily lured me and several others in my gang away from the wooden pews of All Saints. With the promise of a free bible, if I attended regularly. I did that, for a week, won the Good Book , left and flogged my copy. I was a streetwise child. The Elim and its Sulphuric preachers was long gone. All student Lets. 

    I cut up St. Margaret's Road and back into Northfield Road. And horrors! The Gosford Park Hotel on the corner, was boarded up too. One more venue where the band had once played, now derelict. No Stamping Works thundering the pavements 24/7 either-it's a housing complex now. Finally, I walked along the footpath which crossed the site of the old LMS railway line between Nuneaton and Humber Road Junction. I swear I caught a faint whiff of swarf and creosoted sleepers there.

 

      At The Humber itself, few audience members wanted a free chip, to my surprise. We were seated like an enormous interview panel, the full-length of the room. We kicked the evening off with (another!!) wobbly version of "Houses in Between," which is becoming a bit of a Bête Noire for us. We followed with a much stronger version of "All Over Now." We were all then in turn charmed by the perennially delightful Terry and Jan and entertained by wizards of guitar and fiddle respectively, Julie Neale and Nigel Ward.  Julie did an excellent version of Steve Stills' magnificent "Four and Twenty". How I love that song-I have considered doing it myself once or twice. We were serenaded by the harmonious and charming repertoire of Malc Gurnham and Gill Gilsenan. (And now I'm beginning to sound like Nicholas Parsons reading the closing credits of Just a Minute.)

     The ever-improving Cheryl attempted some typically challenging tunes. The back-from-India-intact Campbell McKee and that Sly Old Dog Colin Squire sang some traditional songs. It was good to hear Colin wheeling out "The Calton Weaver"-a personal favourite of mine.           

         There were also  two artistes I'd not seen or heard before there, Hilary Wilson and someone who has, enigmatically, simply to be known as Kenno, until Karen tells me what his real name is.  He sang the Small Faces number "Lazy Sunday, " and did a good version of a Billy Bragg song, " To Have and Have Not." All this and Canal Poetry too. With Spitfire on draught and in good fettle. We are simply not worthy. That's almost a mini-festival.

 

   Later,  Black Parrot Seaside returned. The evening's beer intake was taking its toll on me, as I sang "Lakes of Ponchartrain,"  in far too low a register. "Courting is a Pleasure" redeemed us though, and was not bad at all. We finished off events (literally) as The BPS Collective, joined by Malc Gurnham on acoustic bass. Together we bashed out rousing versions of "The Odeon," and "Albert Balls," both of which included some excellent audience chorus singing.

   

 

   

 

 

 

  

The Only Way is Cov.

        Sunday Night in Green Lane. Could be a film title. I dropped into The Sty Folk club last night to see Rob Oakey and The Gang. The club is so named, not because the venue is untidy, or full of porcine grunting, but because "Sty" is short for Styvechale, the posh area in Coventry. Beanfield Avenue scrapes into this area. Just. (It's a long road).

    The "gang" proved to be a little thin on the ground, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in eclecticism and enthusiasm. A broad swathe of music and Performance Art, from recited poetry to Hoagy Carmichael. From The Faces to Bob Dylan. From The Cuckoo Is a Pretty Bird to The Everley Brothers. On guitars, keyboards, harmonica, word of mouth and acapella.

    The Sty  provided a canvas for me to experiment with a few solo projects. I tried out  three songs  in public there for the first time: "On Raglan Road,"  "Between The Wars,"  and "Sorry Feeling Blues." By Luke Kelly, Billy Bragg and Bo Carter respectively. Three songs spanning several generations.The first two I was pleased with.

 

   The Bo Carter one got a bit messy, as the guitarists present decided to accompany me, and that proved to be a little traumatic for all concerned. We used to do a much filthier Bo Carter song when we were a six piece. Couldn't do it now. He was a dirty boy, was Bo, and this is one of the cleaner Blues he recorded. I also performed "Midlands Lullaby" -a BPS semi-original, beloved of BBC Local radio. "Bring It On Home" " Need Your Love So Bad," and "The Old Triangle."  overall, I think I got away with.

    All of this was accompanied by a riotous, shouted dialogue from The Cast of Shameless in the adjacent room. TOWIC. As one particular lady, supping JDs in the other bar got louder and louder, her language got saltier-drowning the acoustic music at times. She should have come round and had a go. Her voice projection was astronomical. 

     As she bellowed on,   I fell to reminiscing about what a very diverse experience playing to, or listening to ," Live " music can be.  Sometimes absolutely euphoric. Mesmeric, even. The first time I saw Warwickshire's finest, the Edgar Broughton Band, at "Mothers" in Birmingham, for  example. Rasping guitar, rasping vocals and lyrics which I still regularly listen to and admire. The first time I saw Stan Webb actually crying, in The Leofric Jazz Club, as he sang "The First Time I Met The Blues."  And actually meeting John Lee Hooker. In South London. I bought him a coffee, before he tore the whole place up, accompanied by The Groundhogs. Sometimes an occasion like that, when an artiste or an audience rise to the occasion creates a shared experience that is memorable.

    And then, as a performer-there are other  times. Not quite so enjoyable. In Rock format we had very good days at Nottingham University,Hitchin Poly and Warwick University, to name but a few. Elsewhere, we played support to The Darts and East of Eden-memorable. Our gigs  at The Golden Cross were always a gas.   But  The Smithfield Hotel, was a bummer. We got told never to come back by Ver Management , because we'd played a reggae song. The place is long demolished now, and good riddance to it. That kind of endemic racism shite would get them closed down today. Barred too, from The Ryton Bridge Hotel. For swearing. We said "Bugger." Paid off and escorted out through the back for our own safety at a Working Men's Club in Stoney Stanton Road. Because we refused to play Quo or Elvis. Chucked out of Elizabethan Days in Brum, for making disparaging remarks about Villa over the P.A. system.   

      Folk-wise it's been generally, a lot  better. God knows we've had enough practice. Not too long ago we turned up for an open session in a Warwickshire pub, forgetting it was St Patrick's night. All psyched up to do our own stuff and a few sleazy Blues. Dunno how many times we did Black Velvet Band-but it brought the house down whenever we did!   And the archetypal man and a dog-only  audience? We've done it. Tamworth Arts Centre. They both fell asleep. I don't blame them. We went back there to fulfil another Agency booking there and it was closed. Says it all.

   Anyway, last night wasn't anything like that-just a tiny bit disturbing in places. I went out into the car park afterwards with the Loud Lady now reduced to sobbing over the snooker table and threatening to fight someone. I hoped to find my car still intact and not jacked up on bricks. I was not disappointed. The journey home proved as interesting as the evening's entertainment. I took a wrong turn and ended up counting the Speed Bumps in Coat Of Arms Bridge Road. Just round the corner, police were attending to an RTA. Surely there's a song in all this somewhere?

What The Foxes Hat?

   The Autumn Nights are drawing in, and  leaves are already golden on the trees. Hurricane Aynoch had lashed Mount Judd and its environs earlier in the day,  so it was Winter Drawers on time. It turned out appropriately to be  a mostly kinda mellow  groove goin' down at  Atherstone Folk Club's second evening at Church End Brewery Tap last night.

 

    I took the scenic route there, through leafy lanes and across the North Warwickshire moors.  Skirting Nuneaton via Stockingford,  Arbury and Ansley.  Knowing Ridge Lane  very well, this turned out to be trouble free, the hardest part as always being  the narrow driveway up to the pub car park itself at journey's end.  Ridge Lane-home of Boston Fat Boy, Goats Milk and What The Foxes Hat. You could never accuse Church End of selecting mundane names for their produce.

     

      The AFC  October session saw all of the (very minor) teething troubles barely noticeable  last month, now fully  ironed out. With First Night nerves only a memory, events flowed along  with a smooth and relaxed feel. Expertly compered by Steve Beeson and (occasionally) Phil Benson,  Folk Club essentials such as  introductions, Links,  the Interval, and the Raffle  were all very well-managed. The P.A. behaved well, the room was once again packed, and a steady stream of high quality guests ensured that the audience was well entertained. As I have commented previously, this is a Folk Club which should really become an established and respected part of the Midlands circuit.

   

     There had to be a break in all this mellowness and thoughtfulness, and of course,  we managed as we often do, to step up to the plate there. Of which, more later.  Finger in the Jar opened, with three enjoyable numbers. They played an ace in opening with "Fiddlers Green"-the Audience loved it, and returned the familiar choruses gamely. Dave Walker, no longer an Atherstone virgin, followed, with some very decent guitar playing and singing.  Dave Parr then proved that besides being an excellent accompanist and sessions guitarist, he can hold the floor as a solo artist. He gave us two very amusing numbers, including the epic "Rawtenstall Fair".  Brian and Marie Phillips were as professional as ever and included a version of Dougie Maclean's "Garden Valley" which left few dry eyes in the house.  The lovely Maria Barham also played two of her softer songs. It was all getting very classy. Until it was our turn.

    As regards that mellow groove, there is always an exception to every rule, however. Despite the Quality acts assembled, I like to remind audiences that there is nothing like a slick, well-rehearsed folk turn. And as always that is exactly what we gave them-nothing like a....oh, you know the rest.  I soiled my patch a little during introductions by dropping in a  joke about Atherstone. Considering the press the town had over the weekend, it was fairly mild, but nonetheless it drew a couple of groans amidst the polite laughter. (Just to set the record straight, I bet I was the only person there last night who had previously been to Sheepy Road half a dozen times. To watch the football rather than the fighting).  We chose two of our own chorus songs-The Odeon and Albert Balls. The choruses were belted out enthusiastically. Church End Ale was obviously weaving its magic.

     Malc Gurnham, Gill Gilsenan and Dave Parr took to the floor  and restored order. Some proper second half decorum was soon also added to by  Ian Bland and Des Patalong.  Ian included what I believe to be his best song-"The Drifter". New to many there, it held them gripped. It's a good story, as well as a good tune, nicely played.

 

   Des is not content with being in only one ensemble. As well as being a Thru'pnny Bit, he also cuts it with the  Sharp as Razors Shanty Crew. Which is a bit ironic if you've seen the size and consistence of the Patalong whiskerage. Des offered us a rousing call and holler shanty-a familiar one-and then added a rather sweet and melancholic song which held all spellbound. Now that's versatile. Gill, Malc and Dave then returned to round off the evening with another eclectic mix of songs, the work of  a wide spectrum  of writers.  Almost all with choruses, and several which were almost evangelical in tone.  

 

 A thoroughly enjoyable-both playing and listening. Well done to all.

Clappered Out In The Bell

Troubled by the harrowing weekend  rigours of  self-assembly furniture, what better way on a Sunday night, to ease such woes than by making the nine minute journey (for me!) over the Fells and Dales of North East Warwickshire to the nearby village of Monks Kirby? To gather round a figurative Little Pot Stove, and bellow shanties in the company of other like-minded souls?

 

   Yes, it was another last Sunday of The Month, so it was another Sly Old Dogs-And Friends Gathering at The Bell Inn. The last stop (for now) on my little BPS Warwickshire Mini-Tour that took in Warwick, Bedworth,  Atherstone  and Coventry. In three and five piece formats. Whereas on Sunday it was just me, plus The House Band.

 

    With the hideous X Factor, and the Downton Abbey Toff Saga well into their stride, Sunday nights, I'd like to think that the slightly reduced attendance there was down to  counter-attractions On The Box. And not down to rumours of me coming along to sing that evening having earlier circulated about the village.

 

    Also assembled there were The SODs themselves,  comprising Martin Bushnell, Pete Willow, Bob Brooker,   Richard Rider and Paul Kelly. Banjo Dave Evans was there too, and   Sue Sanders, (who can be considered both a SOD and a Parrot-bet she's never been called  both of those in the same  sentence before). To my left was Atherstone Folk Club and I.T. Guru Phil Benson, that rare jewel, a Monks Kirby Virgin. As I think Ian Bland might also have been. On the far side of the room, trying to look inconspicuous, was Tony Super. A night of ribald jollity, nostalgic warbling  and a good Craic was therefore pretty well assured.

    Pete Willow had already given  me the idea for my first number. Whilst I'd been whining  on shared Social Networks about the pitfalls of German Flat-Packed Furniture, he had added mischievously to one of my posts, "D.I.Y".-someone should write a song about that." And indeed someone had. (Me).  " D.I.Y." is on our CD "Ain't It Grand"  The chorus features that very same  phrase: " DIY- Ain't it Grand?/ The doors fall off and the legs won't stand."  After that I went for safety and did "The Old Triangle" and "Black Velvet Band." With such an accomplished backing band  it would have been stupid not have done those two!

 

     Ian Bland sang two excellent songs. Both  I'd heard before. Both were new to most of this audience, and both received richly-deserved applause. One was his cleverly inverted "Beer With No Pub"-a slant on the Slim Dusty original with a Coventry flavour. The second song  was the  powerful  " Drifter."  An eponymous title track from an earlier album. Cutting lyrics  and a cutting melody. Hope Ian won't be offended by me saying that  it reminded me of early Roy Harper.

    Phil had declared himself  to be content to be a spectator, but I dobbed him in, and so he was forced to break out the Ipad and return again to the theme of "The Undeserving Poor". I'd guess the Tories will not finish off their Annual Conference by uniting to sing that song. Tony's first song went awol ,(sympathies!) and after a plucky attempt to resurrect it, he sat down perplexed, scratching his head, yet to enthusiastic applause. Later he seized a chance to "redeem himself" with a thoughtful (and word-perfect) version of "Caledonia." This was the third version of this song I'd heard in a couple of weeks.  So I went home and moved my copy of those evocative lyrics to the bottom of my "working-on" pile. Sue fiddled away pleasantly on a few solo numbers to my right, one a medley of waltzes. She also  sangalonga Sods and generally had the good time she genuinely deserved, after a few rough weeks. Banjo Dave kept The Orchestra on their toes by galloping through a few instrumentals at a merry pace which left a few puffing and blowing by the end of each one.

      Of the Sly Boys themselves, Martin Bushnell did a few tunes and then unleashed an absolute winner by topically airing Nic Jones's " Little Pot Stove." A lovely song, confidently sung. Richard treated us to a Spiers and Boden classic, whilst Bob was in a mellow kinda groove, which included "Stockton Town" Again-well received.  Paul's remarkable version of "The Hot Ashphalt" featured his inimitable Irish Dancing Of A Certain Kind, from County Coundon. I think it was meant to symbolise walking over newly laid tarmac in thin working boots. I'm glad to say that as well as "Jock Stewart" and " The Ship Turned Upside Down/Irish Rover" the Orchestra also did "Gypsy Laddie-O " which, with its frenzied pace and hectic key changes, is one of my favourite S.O.D.  numbers. In modern parlance, for all you groovy Hep Cats reading this, "It Rocks." 

A Tumpustous Night in Coventry.

And so, finally, the whirlwind Warwickshire September 2013 Tour draws towards its breathless close.   Only Monks Kirby to go this Sunday, with The Sly Old Dogs and Friends. It has taken a heavy toll on our metabolism and memories, as anyone who has caught us  at Warwick, Atherstone, Bedworth or The Tump in Coventry  can testify. Last night it was the turn of  Tumpists to suffer. Just to keep our audiences on our toes, it was the three-piece format there last night, and also at last we got to try out a few new songs we've been working on. So a different line-up to the night before.

 

   I have been doing "Peggy Gordon," for a while solo now, but we have also been rehearsing up a band version. This has  not been as easy as we thought-but last night it got a first public airing, which went o.k. A debut too, for "Houses In Between," a Gus Elen song made most famous by Cosmotheka, whom we were privileged to support a couple of times in the distant past. There was a little bit of accordion-squeak to begin with, but it got well into a jolly pace with more good chorus singing.

     The evening was in a sing-around configuration, with artistes performing by turns. Being the only band there, we were experiencing a little difficulty in hearing each other until we swapped chairs and music stands around. We followed up with "Its All Over Now" a Rolling Stones cover which had a first public outing at Warwick Folk Club eleven days ago. I won a bottle of wine at the raffle that night, and Arnold took a bottle of red away from the Tump raffle last night. We hope to open an Off Licence soon. 

 

    With the new stuff duly exercised, (should that read exorcised?) we then performed "Albert Balls," with the choruses being returned really well. Nick Jones is on BBC 4 tonight, so to celebrate that, we added "Courting is a Pleasure," a "Penguin Eggs" track which we have been featuring even before Our Hero made his welcome comeback.

    Finally, we declined a request from Club host Karen Orgill  to do "Vacuum Cleaner," and opted instead for a reprise of "Bedduth Bank," as she had also requested "something rude," from us as a finale. (Coming from someone who had been putting two fingers up to us all night, that was ironic).  The BPS Big Band were out of action, so Arnold very gallantly offered to co-opt Karen in by inviting her to play the shaker.

     Sounds rude also, but this is really a pepper mill which Arnold flutters effetely around in a revised intro to "Dirty Gertie." (Another song awaiting a re-exposure to the general public). I'm not sure that this can count as Karen's induction to The Collective, as rather than shake it, she stood it on the table most of the time and seemed to be expecting the sand in it to drain from the top to the bottom. I've had two requests now to write additional verses for Beduff Bank.  Coleshill and Corley Moor. We shall see. I've got to fit the Leamington one in somewhere, too.

      And what of the rest of the Company? Well, "Sty Folk Impressario " Rob Oakey, (his description not mine) literally wet himself with excitement when we arrived. More the result of an over-filled glass of coke than being starstruck, sadly. I felt so sorry for him that I had an involuntary spasm myself and shed several ice cubes over the floor and my trousers.  Rob claimed his accident was due to being  quite cross with us. He added that he was not talking to us, as we'd been unable to attend  a recent invitation to a concert at The Sty. Typically of Rob, we couldn't stop him talking to us, thereafter.  Even whilst each of us were playing. He played a mix of finger-picking tunes, and a nice version of "City of New Orleans."

 

     Nigel Ward we usually see with a fiddle, but he  produced some very nice guitar sounds from a smart black guitar last night. All his own material, I think. Young Cheryl continues to improve each time I see her. She sang  " Fire and Rain" and later delivered an impressive instrumental, which everyone present applauded warmly. Cathy Shore was herself-unique. Using a selection of props which included a rubber vampire bat, mobile phones and a Sandeman's Port Figurine, she entertained us with a trio of original songs. Halfway through the evening she recognised us. "Where's that other bloke, Edwin?"  she demanded. Cathy's the star attraction next week at The Tump.  If Kate Bush was still doing the Folk Circuit now and smoking a selection of root vegetables, this is how I see things panning out. Just divine.

 

     Des Patalong, shorn of his Bits, Un-razored,  and solo, warbled some strident Shanties and also sang a truly lovely song I'd not heard before, about the Slave Trade. Christina read some poems including Flanders and Swann's "The Gasman." Ah! The memories!      Aussie/Pom Ian Bland had already been excused, but turned up late. Having climbed out of the bedroom window and down a drainpipe, he did a couple of songs, one a very thought-provoking one about folk being down on their luck. Atherstone Folk Club host Phil Benson came expecting to do one number and ended up singing three,most competently. Concealed lights behind  bushels. Karen can be very firm, at times.

 

  And  finally, Arol, a Tump regular whom we have known from the first Parrot flutterings in the 1970's, was invited by Karen to address The Company. If you didn't know that Arol once ate fire for a living, and is no stranger to the unicycle, it might have been a slightly disturbing moment.  He regaled us  with a mysterious and erudite anecdote about pole climbing. It  put all kinds of images into one's head. Not all of which were savoury. I enjoyed it immensely.