Top Twenty Night at Warwick

A cracking night along the A46 on Monday, with Warwick Folk Club's annual Top Twenty Bash. A host of Stars on 45 admirably compered by Norman Wheatley, took us through  a  packed programme of nostalgia, with individual performers and sketches breaking up the evening.

      Mr. Wheatley opened proceedings with " Sunny Afternoon" and " Mr. Bojangles."  Mike Moyes  then followed with " Daydream Believer" and Peter Paul and Mary's " In The Early Morning Rain."  I was due to be there as part of Nunc,  in which case we would have done "After The Gold Rush "  and Fairground Attraction's "Perfect." This was not to be however, so in solo form I did Billy Bragg's " Between The Wars" and an effortless segue of "All Over Now " and " Rave On" which I introduced as " Rave Over Now."

     Sue Harris went easy on herself, selecting " Killing Me Softly" and " You were always on my mind," as her opening gambit.  Ian Dyson did  remarkable things with a banjo before Peter Wimpenny introduced us to a unique interpretation of Dave Berry's " The Crying Game." Rik Middleton, creative as ever, treated us to  Pat Boone's " Love Letters in The Sand" and Abba's " Fernando".    Maggie Coleman did "Farewell Angelina", which charted for Joan Baez in..and "Scarborough Fair."

      In the second half, Robin Kaye, shorn of his more famous brother Danny, made an ambitious tilt at The Moody Blues' " Nights in White Satin'" and followed that with another easy project," The Sounds of Silence."The incomparable Chris Tobin crooned " Alfie," and then accompanied Sue Jefferies on the Springfield's hit " Island Of Dreams."

      During the second half,  Martin Day treated us to " Ghost Riders In The Sky."  What MD did not know was that when I first moved from the City to the country, in 1987, each Friday night, the chorus of this song would echo eerily across the Anker Valley for hours after closing time, as the Cowpokes and Sheep herders of North East Warwickshire staggered nostalgically home from the aptly-named Bull's Head. So another happy moment for me.

     The inappropriately named Melancholy Brothers did a fabulous arrangement of  The Byrd's " 8 Miles High,"  and followed it with a Roxy Music cover. 
       Breathless, we sat back as Keith Donnelly growled  lout a basso profundo cover of Lee Marvin's " I was born under a wanderin' star.'  Keith does a highly recommended alternative parody of Ghost Riders-" Ghost Eiders in The Sky", about spooky geese, but he chose on Monday to follow his opener with Dean Martin's " Gentle On My Mind."
Ian Pittaway finished the evening, with an extraordinary version of "Bob The Builder", played as a Galliard, on a Lute.
     After an evening packed with memories and good audience singing, as the Tumbleweed drifted up the deserted Castle Street, we made our way home and dreamed of our Youth. 


burn; Canadian charts, 1971)

Black Parrot Seaside: 1975-2014

    Other, far more important anniversaries will be commemorated elsewhere today by millions,and I do not underestimate or trivialise their importance by writing this. Many of my family served in the Armed Forces, and most were fortunate enough to come back intact. Indeed, were it not for my dad and both my Grandads doing so, I would not be able to comment on this, (or anything else) today. So yes-I will stop at eleven am this morning, wherever I am, and I will give thanks for that, and the sacrifice of others.

     November 11^th marks a far more trivial anniversary, too. Today it is a year to the day since the band I joined, in around 1975-the oddly-named “Black Parrot Seaside” finally and terminally broke up. It fragmented suddenly, in a distressing way,in my house, whilst we were rehearsing. It was something which I suppose on reflection was inevitable, given the internal tensions which were beginning to surface, but it was nonetheless very painful. We'd had a few dry runs at folding previously, with plenty of arguments, public and private, previous break-ups and long periods of dormant inactivity. The avalanche which followed last year's spat though, was terminal. Besides losing us several gigs and a Festival appearance, it took away several friendships with it. Including one that had endured for 55 years.

     Together, outside and beyond the band, we had helped each other through bereavements and setbacks. We had attended each other's weddings, birthday parties, family funerals and retirement functions. We had watched each others' children grow up and had seen our respective careers flourish, then wither away to a comfortable life of sedentary folk-singing. We gigged, rehearsed, wrote and performed together. We shared holidays, hobbies, a sense of humour and political beliefs. But in the end, this was not enough glue to hold the frail canvas together. As a band, we had plenty of good times, a few very barren times and a lot of flat lining in between. It felt like bereavement when it happened, and it still does.

5 piece BPS format at Banbury Folk Club.

     However, meanwhile, bravely whistling in the dark, and listening to others, I had convinced myself that I could carry on afterwards, running a (very successful) Folk Club, and combining that with maintaining at least a little public presence by performing solo occasionally. I see now, that I was probably both vain and deluded in that belief. 

     It seems that no-one wants to see or hear the stuff that I write or perform nowadays-. which is fair enough. I have reached a point where, unable to play any instrument,and without anyone prepared or available to rehearse, co-write or gig regularly with me, and with no-one very much interested in what I do solo, it is time to man up, face reality and accept defeat. I have tried unsuccessfully to launch several alternatives to BPS over the last 12 months and I have carried on writing, but it seems that neither my heart, nor anyone else's is really in it. I seem to have reached a spot where I cannot even command a floor spot, except from close friends. I cannot entice, persuade or cajole anyone into sharing a stage with me on a regular or permanent basis. I have become a Folk Jonah: an Albatross. It's a long way down from playing support to Darts and East of Eden, or from hearing your own work played on Radio One. 

     I have a couple of final commitments to fulfill and then,unless something really radical happens, all I will have left  is Nuneaton Folk Club. A good cause, and one that needed re-launching. I have had great support in this enterprise from people like Julian Harkins, Malc Gurnham, John Kearney, Tom Veasey and Phil Benson. And also from my own family, especially Maggie and Fiona, who have given me great backing, and physical presence. I have had tremendous positive feedback, from audiences and performers. It has taken a lot of hard work to get the venue up and running, in the process, causing me a bit of stress occasionally, which has in turn probably triggered a few health issues. When I first agreed to have a go at it, I was led to believe that it would not harm the band, indeed, some felt it might enhance our collective talents by giving us a regular monthly target to rehearse for-the Residency. That was not to be. We made one appearance there only, which proved to be our last ever performance. And that was not the original 1978 format. Creative Armageddon followed.  

    So.... Black Parrot Seaside, one year on-R.I.P. As to Nuneaton Folk Club-who knows?

Manic Wednesdays

1. The Larder-Wednesday afternoon

     Mid-afternoon Cafe Cabaret again yesterday afternoon at The Larder in Atherstone's High Street. As the Cafe continued to fill to bursting point, Steve Beeson and I reflected nostalgically on the occasion when only he and I had turned up, and how we then manfully faced the prospect of a long afternoon entertaining the diners on our own.

    No longer the case nowadays, as both the cafe and Atherstone itself were heaving-filled to overflowing yesterday. Perhaps word had spread that we were coming? It meant that the first three car parks I tried were full, and I had to park miles away and hobble on still-gammy pins the full length of that same (aptly named) Long Street. I was already a little late anyway, as I had popped into The Crown in Nuneaton en route, to help set out the room for a second Happening later that same evening. Of which more later.

A plethora of musicians were gathered (just) inside The Larder. Outnumbering the customers by at least four to one, I don't suppose the owners minded, as singing and playing is notoriously thirsty work. The tea and coffee and sausage butties just kept flowing. Dave and Julia Taylor,Phil Benson and Steve Beeson, Malc and Gill, Ian Bourne, John Meechan and Peter McParland were amongst those I knew well. It is very informal there, so others were introduced as “Terry” or “Bob” or in a few cases, simply “That lady over there.” A more thorough identification of all who performed is not yet possible. 

     We had shanties and singarounds. Covers and originals. I began my own little turn with Billy Bragg's “ Between The wars”  The cafe is militarily themed and with Remembrance Sunday approaching, it had seemed apposite. I had also prepared beforehand “ Over The Hills And Far Away,” but alas, I noticed the songsheet for that on a music stand as I entered.

Later I added “ Down Our Street,” instead, and as an example of a modern song written last year, which reflects everyday things now largely forgotten. Is this also “Folk Music “? I submit that it is. 

    As the audience got gamely into their stride on the choruses, a pile of dishes tumbled over in the kitchen upstairs, and at a separate table, teacups were knocked over. I reflected, mid-song upon the disturbing effect I generally seem to have upon Warwickshire audiences. John Kearney's (unsuccessful ) bottle juggling at both Bedworth venues, for example. The heckling I seem to inspire. The song-bombing, and the mobile phones going off. Ah well. It adds to the general ambience.

    This little cameo was intended to warm my tonsils up for compering Nuneaton Folk Club, a few miles along the A5 (or over the hill to The Camp, if you prefer that route), a few hours later. Double alas, as that was not to be. The Club went ahead, and I compered. But due to some logistical problems, my own vocal contribution was the first to be guillotined.  I did lots of shouting and announcing, but no singing. Which is a pity for me, but not necessarily for the audience.

2. Nuneaton Folk Club- Wednesday Evening

   So all a bit hectic (again) in The Crown, as we kicked off. Despite my best efforts over the last few months, including going in at lunchtime to try and give us a head start, one or two organisational problems last night meant that we started about 12 minutes down. Indeed, without the hard work of Malc Gurnham, guesting once again on the mixing desk, we might not have started at all. All credit to the audience though, who had heeded advance publicity and got there in time for the start. 

Malc & Gill

    It was a good turnout, approaching the eighty+ mark at its height. Difficult to head count, as the nature of the club means that though most people stay throughout, others drift in and drift out...and often drift back in again. Amongst the Guest Beers downstairs were the utterly divine Abbeydale Deception and a beer from the St Agnes/ Driftwood Spars brewery at my beloved Trevaunance Cove. This tended to make a few Camra members take their time climbing back upstairs.

      I can only liken starting off a busy Folk Club to launching an annual Primary School Christmas Nativity in front of a packed hall full of anxious parents. It's a lonely place up on that big stage,facing a sea of expectant faces who are checking watches, fretting about what is going to happen, wondering when it is all going to start, indeed one or two wondering,” Why are we here?” ..........But enough of the performers.

   The Nativity analogies continue, though. Each month my meticulously pre-planned Gordon Brittas timetables gradually unravel and defy all the Laws of Logistics. What can go wrong does go wrong. Up on the stage, thanks to the slightly incongruous disco lights, one is never cold,and any prospect of performers dropping off mid-set is countered by the ever-changing sequence of coloured bulbs. 

   Re-shuffle number two, I had to ask Malc and Gill to open for us, which seemed particularly cruel, as Malc was already visibly struggling with:

1. The remnants of a pernicious flu' like bug:
2. Keeping his patience with my (silly) answers to his (sensible) questions and:
3. The vagaries and hidden wonders of the Pub sound system.

    This did not detract from a typically entertaining opening from the duo however, which got the audience singing. Although the sight of Malc's sweat pouring down the body of his guitar emphasised the sacrifices some troupers will go to in order to ensure that the show (literally) does go on.

    Hilary Wilson and John Wright then combined to give us fifteen minutes of harmony and reflective music. They do make a nice sound together, though both are also established individual solo performers.

John and Hilary

    Next up came the Talk of Long Itch, The Willow and Tool Band (or is it the Tool and Willow Band?) making their NFC debut. Lolly set aside her pile of marking, and her dad set aside his barked instructions and face-pulling, to mount the stage. A roisterous, foot tapping set, packed with instrumentation followed, punctuated by the worst joke I have ever heard in a Folk Club. Keith Eardley tooted his blues harp,spanked his Uke and swung his bongo (ooh matron!) and Pete woke up one of the punters with his atmospheric whoops in “ Johnny I hardly knew ya. ” I always find this chorus challenging, as it is easy to get your drums and guns transposed to gums and bums if wearing dentures. Afterwards I thanked the The Wool and Tillow Band for their contribution, which seemed a healthy resolution of the name order debate.     Lolly incidentally, made a fine sight perched on her high stool, marking books. I bet she thought that was a fairly unique sight, but I do recall a gentleman last year who sat in the same place making wire sculptures, and a couple of ladies who have brought in knitting.

The Tillow and Wool Band in full stride

    The effortlessly suave and very accomplished Chris Tobin then took charge and won the audience's heart with his version of Billy Fury's “Half Way to Paradise.” A truly magical NFC moment. I can promise you-there will be more of that to come!

Chris Tobin en route to Paradise

      Dragonhead , good supporters of NFC continued the conveyor belt of quality, with two romping Cajun tunes, and a version of “South Australia” which again got the audience roaring back the responses.

Dragonhead

    To conclude a marvellous first half, “Highly Strung”-the venerable and magnificent Terry and Jan Wisdom serenaded us with an extended set. Terry's instinctive fretwork, Jan's immaculate pitch and timing and their relaxed arrangements had everyone cooing. Terry finished with a slightly naughty but hilarious account of his life in Folkdom. Wonderful.

Jan & Terry-a study in concentration

    The raffle featured prizes generously donated by Malc Gurnham, John Kearney, Kim Lowings and yours truly. John Kearney's set was another casualty, as we continued to struggle for time, but he did lead The Company if a fulsome rendition of “ We Shall Overcome”-which is becoming one of his Party Pieces. Thanks to Mags and Gill helping out, with the raffle it all went smoothly and we were able to sit back and enjoy a glorious closing set from the fabulous Kim Lowings and The Greenwood. I'd seen them before, and I knew they'd be just right for our audience. 

Kim and The Greens opening up

     A blissful 40 minutes or so concluded events. Now, I can say with some authority, as a performer, as a compere and as an Organiser, I have led a long and colourful life in this music game I've met all types. Been on Radio One. Had publishing recording and management deals in the past. Out there currently are a few mediocre acts (we don't allow them at NFC). There are some great singers and writers and some talented musicians on the circuit. There are a few who have highly imaginative views of their own importance and ability. And frankly, there are one or two right bloody Divas, who can shove their riders and caveats and negotiated fees right where the sun don't shine    Kim Lowings and The Greenwood are among the best of The Good Guys. Four of the nicest people I've ever worked with, and that is a very important additional string to their bow, believe me. The corporate sound they produce is seamless, relaxing, and gripping. They are individually gifted and Kim is an outstanding singer and musician. Some bands who share this level of accomplishment never cease to try to overwhelm an audience or promoters and organisers with it. KLATG have no time for any of that. They let their music do the talking. If you didn't get to see them last night, you can catch them at Atherstone Folk Club or at Bedworth Folk Festival next month. And they will DEFINITELY be coming back to The Crown.  

Kim getting a buzz from her dulcimer