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.
