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."