Billed as "Nuts in May", along with Bill Bates, at Bedworth Folk Club last month, this title seemed an appropriate continuation. As Glastonbury STILL hadn't been in touch, we decided that last night we would ply our trade instead at The Tump Folk Club. Based in Coventry's Humber Road. Anyway, it was drier in there. Although like a "home" fixture, We enjoyed a slightly less whacky night than in May, with a mix of funny, wistful and downright poignant material on offer. Performed by a veritable tapestry of talented artistes. Even WE did one or two straight songs! I thought I would set the tone for the evening beforehand by making a complete idiot of myself with a Chaplinesque display of assembling the music stand which is still on permanent loan from Eddie, our erstwhile Fiddle player. Classic stuff. Brian Phillips was filming part of the evening. Hope to God he missed that.
It had been a torrid week for me, out of sorts and bedridden Sunday and Monday. So I was just chuffed to be there. Mine Host Rob Oakey compered the evening, which would feature three acts regularly on at Bedworth. Now: let me give you a typical Rob joke. " Which "Mine" am I actually host of, then? Keresley? Or Binley? " delivered deadpan, yet with a faint gleam of mischief behind those enigmatic spectacles. Rob was in classic self-disparaging mood. I lost count of all the adjectives he used to put himself down-but how can a man who builds his own guitars be as useless as Rob claims to be? And he has more hair than I do, unless that ponytail's a hairpiece. So there are at least two positives, Rob. Just don't stand too close to a magnet with all those inlays on the fret. He began talking about Irish ancestry, at which Karen did the pun of the evening by shouting " He's one of the O'Kee's." (say it aloud rather than reading it).
After Rob had warmed our hearts with a tuneful intro,the cat made the first of many attempts to come in. Then, it was uplifting to see and hear Brian and Marie Phillips back on form again.They did several of my favourites,with Marie's strong vocals and Brian's excellent picking complimenting each other. "Fairytale Lullaby", a John Martyn song off his first album. (The best album in my view). That spirited, defiant Fleetwood Mac song "Never Going Back Again". Close your eyes and Lynsey Buckingham was plucking away in The Humber Hotel. We had a running joke all night with B. & M. over "Lakes of Ponchartrain," a song we now both do. Somehow we mutually managed to leave it off the agenda. They also did "Lonesome Valley"-another favourite of mine.
Then it was time for us to do our first slot. As our politicians continue to "not get it," we opened with "The Gravy Train." As long as they keep fiddling expenses and getting caught with jam on their chins, this song will remain topical. We felt the need to include at least one sad song too and as Ponch was barred, a (Nic Jones-inspired) version of "Courting is a Pleasure" followed. We then lightened things up a little with "The Odeon," in which, I have to say the audience chorus singing was outstanding.
Light and shade continued as we then rolled out the Dave Goulder song "Requiem for Steam," which features on our (and his) albums. Was that a WD 2-8-O getting a train of 12 ton mineral wagons loaded with swarf from the Rootes Factory moving up the grade towards Bell Green? Easing the clanking wagons along the Coventry avoiding line of the old LMS region and towards Nuneaton? Past the Gosford Green Goods Depot, which was once just up the end of the street? No. But the cat did come in successfully this time. Perhaps it was drawn by my flawless harmonica playing. Fantastic. I got the right key harp, AND the right three notes to simulate a locomotive whistle at the end. Jon Harrington watch out. I own you.
We finished our first set with a ribald version of "What a Folking Liberty," a song fast becoming an anthemic BPS standard. Sitting opposite Gil Gilsenan wasn't a great idea at this point, as (not for the first time) Gil sang a wrong line in the chorus. Deliberately, I reckon. And whilst grinning straight at me. It's not an easy song to sing at the best of times, in a true "Pheasant Plucker" tradition. So substituting the words "folk you " with, "folk me once and folk me twice and folk me once again," was just downright naughty. At one point I was laughing so much I almost sang a mispronunciation which would have cost the pub its licence.
The cat was escorted out again at this point, (paws over its ears) and Malc and Gil (the third of the Beduff regulars) finished the first half. Rob introduced them as "The Godfathers of Folk", which was so good, I just had to write it down. With a borrowed pen. (Thanks, Karen). I will do what I can to make sure that sticks, locally. Malc n' Gil were obviously feelin' kinda mellow. They did their less noisy version of "Blackleg Miner." They did a Sydney Carter and a Kate Wolf song. And finished with an Eric Bogle one. I found at this point, that I knew most of the words to all their songs and that I had been harmonising along with them quite uncannily. Be interesting to try that out one day. I suggested as much to Malc during the interval. But he gave me what I can only describe as a very old-fashioned look. By this time my antibiotics were beginning to kick in, and I may have said to him, "The cat is wearing a pair of gaberdine trousers."
Post-Raffle and wee-break, the second half began with Ian Bland, over from Oz. The sad theme continued with an opening song called "Hour before Dawn." Exiled temporarily from Melbourne, Ian couldn't stay quiet about beer for long, though. He did an excellent cover of a Slim Dusty original- " A Pub with no Beer." In which a bunch of drongos in a flyblown Outback booser lament the drying up of their staple diet. Tables turned here, as Ian sang "Beer with no Pub" lamenting many of the Coventry boosers lost over the last few decades. He still has family here so it was a very thorough list. I found I'd visited every one he mentioned. And that as a band, we'd played in The Cheylesmore, The Bear, (and "Vacuum Cleaner" was on the jukebox in there!), The Climax, The Alhambra, The Cedars, The Barras Hotel, and The Mercers. To name but a few.
Terry Wisdom then followed, shaking his head and saying "This is the only club I've ever heard where most of the banter is from performers heckling each other. Usually it's audience members heckling the performers!" Shouts of "Come to Beduff!" were thrown back instantly at him. Terry performed with his usual flair, borrowing Arnold's Martin. " Nice machine," mused Terry, before stroking magic from it. "See Arnold! " I said," I told you it wasn't broken." Terry and Ian were the only floor spots, despite there being a few more decent singers present. Phil Benson, Sue Phipps and John The Growly Man-for example.
Back came Brian and Marie for a second slot. The cat likes them. It went after they'd finished. So it missed us doing the long version of "On Bedworth Bank," which seemed rather apt given the way the event had been publicised. By this time I'd ventured the first pint I'd had since Nuneaton Beer Festival last Friday. It was Shepherd Neame Spitfire-and very well kept. But it went straight to my head. Later I told Terry Wisdom that I had a poster in my toilet, with his name on. I got another very old fashioned look and a shake of the head. (one of those looks from Terry could fell a charging Ox). However-in a separate post-I will prove that I wasn't making the whole thing up.
Malc and Gil wrapped things up, in typically professional fashion. Lovely songs, beautifully sung, in perfect Harmony. (And can we have another gig at The Black Bank?) The Spitfire was raging through my troubled bladder, and it was a challenging trip home through the humid mists and unlit villages of Warwickshire. Well done to Rob and Karen for the work they do at The Tump. And well done to the Humber Crew for keeping such a decent pint.
