Hell Freezeth Over

    I was born in Warwickshire-in Meriden to be precise,  the village claimed to be the centre of England. I was raised in Warwickshire. Educated in Warwickshire-Primary and Secondary school-The University of Birmingham is my old Alma mater. I have lived in a Warwickshire village since 1987. My paternal roots can be traced back in the County nine generations, to at least 1650. So it has always rankled with me that, despite having written (and recorded) (and performed) songs about my home turf, in the 36 years it has been on, I have not once been involved with the only Folk Festival that bears its name. I'd played festivals in Oxfordshire. In Leicestershire. Indeed, in Warwickshire, too. But never Warwick. The organisers ( I felt) didn't want me. And I was too proud to beg. But today a minor ambition has been fulfilled.

    O.K. It wasn't the Main Stage. It wasn't a warm up act for Billy Bragg. It was a Fringe Event in a pub garden, so I sort of snuck in incognito, under the radar. But for a few minutes at The Bowling Green, it felt like Glastonbury. Amongst friends, with a decent audience and with the sun shining, it was, finally, a box ticked on the Folk Bucket list.

   Intrepid is the word which springs to mind in describing the journey I made to sing two songs today. I chose the bus, so that I could sample the beers on offer in The Bowling Green, and not worry about parking. The down side of this strategy was that the journey out and back took five hours. I could have flown to Crete during this time. Or driven to Fort William.

    Warwick (like most of the rest of the county), had taken a damn good soaking during the previous 24 hours. But the sun shone down today on the oddly titled X15 as it tootled, Postman Pat style, along the country lanes. Presumably “X” stands for Express-but that, the X19 is not. I live 19 miles from Warwick. When I appear at Warwick Folk Club, the drive from home takes just under half an hour.

     Thirty five years of being the little boy pressing his nose up against the Sweet Shop window evaporated. All put to rest, as compere and legend Malc Gurnham introduced me, to polite applause. It seemed a cheerful audience, well lubricated and with several familiar faces. I felt safe to do “Albert Balls ” and “ Folking Liberty,” and the audience listened, tried the choruses, and laughed in all the right places. I even had a little kazoo orchestra strike up to my left:people I'd been talking to at the bar beforehand.

    The pub itself I liked. I had my Invisibility Cloak on to begin with, so it took a while to persuade them to part with the Youngs IPA on offer, but once we'd broken the ice there, I thought the Hog Roast was delicious  and the beers were well kept, with a good choice.

    In the pub garden, besides people I knew, a few others recognised me or spotted the B.P.S. T-shirt I was wearing. All good when your self-esteem is flatlining. I was recognised too, on the return bus and got talking to someone else who'd seen us once at The Tump. When I got home I saw that the Black Parrot Seaside Facebook page had taken several more hits. What a shame it took the band finally and terminally splitting up before I could get to go and experience all that. What a pity we never got to play Warwick. Hopefully it won't be another 36 years before I go back. I'll have had a telegram from the Queen by then. 

New Venue for Bedduth

     Bedworth Folk Club settled into a new venue at The Newdigate Club  last night, after their swift and sudden exit from the last one.  A large and welcoming crowd, including some of the locals and Committee members, enjoyed a night of excellent floor singing, and a star guest in the exquisite Louise Jordan. Admirably compered by Malc Gurnham and ably assisted by his attractive young assistant Gill Gilsenan. (She told me to write that), Malc had experienced a particularly harrowing week leading up to last night .He did so well to hold it all together with that familiar chuckle and good humour. 

     What a smack in the eye it was all round, for the handful of bigots up the road at The Old White Building Society. Who had spent last month, post-refurb, heckling,whining and moaning about Bedworth Folk Club trespassing on their territory,soiling their finer feelings and ruining greatly-needed beauty sleep. Wonder what their frantically back-pedallling Pub Chain would make of the sixty or so customers they have lost? I was so distracted by the music last night , that I didn't miss that hideous mural, the haphazard parking, the deafening sound system in the bar next door, the plasma screens, the vinegary beer, the drunken punters, or the smelly Gentleman's toilet. Not once.

   Instead of hostility, at The Newdigate, Bedd'uth rolled up its sleeves and put on a show for old friends and newcomers alike. My understanding was that it was temporarily housed in a separate room which won't be the permanent base. A pity, as stone-clad pillars apart, it was a nice homely affair, with Dave Webb, Max Wright and Alan Stocks ensconced at the front in their armchairs like a trio of enthroned Village Elders. Which of course was the reality for Webby, having once worked down the Pit across the road a few hundred years ago. The other rooms looked just as good, and the bar service is swift and courteous. So it won't matter where they eventually end up-it's an improvement.

    Returning to Mining, there was a bit of a theme going on in that respect, for Newdigate Club once served one of  Bedworth's many collieries. Bill Bates, Webby and several other singers mentioned the Mining Industry in their songs .John Meechan did not. For which I am grateful, as his version of "Farewell Johnny Miner," had been my own personal ear worm since he sang it at Atherstone last month. 

     The first half included slots from Malc and Gill, Dave Webb, Dave Parr, Thrupp'nny Bits, John Meechan, John Kearney,  Brian Phillips, and some other bloke from Nuneaton Folk Club. He trolled out " Albert Balls" and " Folking Liberty," and wisely kept a new song "Dixon of Duck Green" rolled up in his pocket, for another occasion. It was a fine eclectic mix of traditional and self-penned songs, with some outstanding performances. I would be failing in my duties as a songwriter if I did not record here that John Kearney's rendition of my own song " Tiny Lights," was just the best version I have yet to hear.  

    Louise Jordan then took and held the floor, with a first half set featuring her near perfect vocal skills, considerable musical ability, easy audience manner and interesting material. It is always fascinating watching an audience falling slowly in love with a young, talented, attractive woman who sings like an angel. You could almost hear the sighs of contentment at the end of every pin-drop moment, as Louise finished each mesmeric moment. You could almost see the cartoon hearts floating up above the heads of many of the more mature senior gentlemen in the room, Disney-style, each time she stopped singing. 

    It's always good to uphold long-established Folk Club traditions, and so it came as no surprise to see that both John Meechan and Pete Slaughter once again won the raffle prizes, and that the Village Idiot wandered in during the interval. ( Having found no-one to harangue about injustice and corruption, and with me surrounded by minders, he disappeared again shortly afterwards). 

    The second half lost none of its intensity. Terry and Jan Wisdom were  superb. Bill Bates, swapping guitars flamboyantly between numbers,did two of his best songs, "Down The Mine" and " Madhouse."  Keith Donnelly (whose trousers seemed to have had and then lost an argument with the local Pit Bull), concluded the floor singers' spots fittingly. Keith is always good value and a great entertainer, but his "Ghost Eiders in The Sky" was a work of pure genius and the song about his dad showed a more tender side with a real gift for songwriting which some of us already knew he had.

        I hope Louise won't be offended when I say I found her range somewhere between Cara Dillon and Hayley Westenra, for they are two female singers I greatly admire. During the interval I had said to JK that I would like to hear Louise wrap that golden voice around a few more traditional numbers during the second half. She obliged with several, including one in Gaelic, a nice version of "Silver Dagger,"  and a cleverly-adapted bittersweet version of " I know who I'll love."
    An excellent night all round. Well done to all. 

A Loose Cannon

On the hottest July day EVER yesterday in most of the Midlands, the thermometer was still reading 33c outside at 8pm as Nuneaton Folk Club got under way. The long awaited debut of Coventry-based Dubliner Sean Cannon drew a massive crowd, and we were nigh on capacity at around 120 souls as we approached the start. 

Webby (right) had the sauciest shorts , revealing a fine set of pins for a 98 year old 

   Beforehand we had lots of behind the scenes excitement, as Sound Man Tom Veasey and Guvn'or Jules wrestled with the P.A. It finally stuttered into life just before the start. The heat both inside and outside was intense as we began. It was either get roasted and bitten outside watching the Outdoor Stage, or boil in the Sauna of the Top Room. So crowded was the room that some folk sat on the floor at the front of the stage, hippie-style. Far out. 
     We had a few announcements before the music began. Contributors were thanked for their £500+ donations to The UHCW Neo Natal Unit. We lamented the sad passing of Rich McMahon who would have been on the bill that night. Ginnie White was presented with a Justin Bieber Annual to commemorate her enrollment as The NFC's 150th Facebook Page recruit. 

    Then Nunc kicked us off with a couple of tunes, " Cold Haily" (which it wasn't) and "After The Goldrush." They would return as NuncNey in the second half, with John Kearney guesting on "Bring It On Home."

" Bring it to me..Bring on home to me...Yeah!"

   In tribute to Pete Slaughter, the SJ Matanza Band made their debut. John Kearney and Dave Parr joined Pete's daughter to celebrate the old boy's 75th Birthday. Pete is a regular at pretty well every Folk Club in the area. 

    John Kearney remained on stage to add a couple of his own songs, suitably attired in a beach shirt. It was clear from the way the audience belted back the refrains from John's inimitable version of "Downtown" that a classic night was in store. 

John and one of his fans

More debutantes next, Fray'd Knot, a local Ceilidh Band with a dazzling array of instrumentation.  They got  feet  tapping, and a few spontaneous clapping accompaniments broke out. The 'Knot very kindly donated some Sperrins Beers to the raffle.

Zak Knight leads The Fray'd Knot ensemble.

    regular (and popular) guest Bob Brooker then weighed in with three songs.  He also donated a raffle prize. Bob stayed on stage after his set because he was also guesting with Comharsa, who warmed an increasingly excitable audiece up with a set of  traditional tunes. Including the Irish Rover which got everyone roaring the choruses. Fronted by Mick Stanley, it was good to see him finally making his performing debut there, with friends and family around him, after his disastrous previous experience in Bond Street. (He got run over, outside and ended up in hospital!). 
        To great applause, Sean then turned in his first set. He kept the audience chuckling with his anecdotes, and tapping their feet with his songs.

     Daisybell warmed up for Sean's second half, with three well-crafted and beautifully harmonised tunes. And then the Maestro returned, and he damn near brought the house down with a varied selection of songs and tunes. Hot as it still was, no-one wanted to leave!So we made him do a few encores. No-one needed much persuading. 

Sean and a moodily-lit Geoff with a fan between them

A wee dram of The Mac Awe

   It is hard to believe it's been a month since I last posted. Apologies for that, because I know people do read this Blog, following  the adventures of various musicians and picking up news about Nuneaton and other Folk Clubs. But family funerals, domestic upheavals, illnesses etc got in the way of doing so. This didn't mean I wasn't out gigging. Indeed, public performance provided some respite from all the stress and sheer bloody hard work of supporting various people through several crises. Since that last entry:

Nunc did floor spots at The Tump and Atherstone Folk Clubs. The Tump turned out to be quite a long one, where he had a chance to air several songs.  

 Mac Awe On Tour

     After a series of rehearsals, Mac Awe on Tour had a triumphal gig at Nuneaton Beer Festival on Saturday June 19th, with two long sets.  Mostly of covers material. Dylan, Beatles, Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke. loads of Blues, some traditional Folk, and even a Spiritual or two. And (by audience request!!) A couple of old Black Parrot Seaside favourites, " Albert Balls " and  "The Odeon." This fulfilled  a longstanding commitment made by me, last year, to Nuneaton and Bedworth CAMRA when I was in another band.

    Mac Awe on Tour even had a Sperrins Brewery beer named after them, especially for the occasion. Described in the Festival notes as  a " dark mysterious porter with chocolate undertones. "   I am delighted to record that it was later judged  Beer of The Festival! I had a drop: it was, like several of the Band members, a Dark, Strong and Stout thing!

   We had planned to include Brian Phillips in the final line-up, but despite managing to attend rehearsals and making a great contribution, Brian had his own family troubles and could not attend the actual gig. Similarly, Sue Sanders, who played fiddle with MAOT at The Comedy night ( and so featured on the Mac Awe Pump clip!) intended to join us but was unable to this time.

    The format then, was myself, Malc Gurnham (acoustic bass), John Kearney (guitar) and his son Brendan, on Percussion. Gill Gilsenan very kindly drove the P.A. for us. Having John and Malc meant that we were able to finish with the marvellous John Richards song "Shine On," with Malc's thunderous vocals shaking the windows of Dugdale Street. And the audience too were treated to John Kearney's unique version of "Downtown." The audience chorus singing was particularly loud and enthusiastic. I can't think why.

Is that a pint of Mac Awe at Brendan's feet?