In one guise or another I've played a
lot of Coventry venues. Some of which are still with us, and many of which alas are now deceased. Indeed, Nunc are gradually adding to that former collection nowadays. We've played Drapers and The Twisted Barrel this year alone.
and on Monsoon Saturday (just gone) we added The Broomfield Tavern to our
collection. Whilst in Black Parrot Seaside I'd played the Dyers Arms,
just round the corner. But I had never previously strayed into this
particularly delightful corner of Spon End before. Tucked away in a neat little terrace, with architecture pretty
typical of the older parts of Earlsdon and Chapelfields. And having the additional bonus of a bijou,
compact stage area, a P.A. and complete with sleeping dog, of which more
later.
Tucked in between the Viaduct and the
Rugby Ground, as a card-carrying CAMRA member,I was pleased to see ten
hand pumps, nine of which were in action. It was sunny when we got there, so we sat outside, sampling the Produce until Ian Bourne
arrived.
What we had was a rolling Open Mic format with acts playing a set each. I'm afraid I didn't catch the names
of some of the earlier acts preceding our spot, or a few afterwards. Except for Kiaya Lyons. ( I asked her). Petite,young, pretty-and with a voice belying
all that, she belted out a few songs. Sometimes plucking a diminutive
guitar, sometimes accompanied via a keyboard,sometimes acapella. My, she was versatile! She even made
Justin Bieber seem palatable with a storming version of “My Mama
Don't Like You.” John Kearney was singing along enthusiastically to this, which I found a little disturbing. John had made his usual spectacular entrance by tumbling down the steps whilst parking his guitar. He is such a show off. He readjusted so cleverly in mid air that you could see he had done this a million times before.
Shortly after the entertainments began
there was a rumbling which shook the glasses and a roaring noise
outside. I assumed this was a freight train crossing the viaduct,but upon going into the bar to refresh my pint I could see that Armageddon appeared to
have occurred outside. You could barely see the spectators huddled
for warmth in the Rugby Stand at The Butts Stadium and in the park
outside, a family group were (unwisely) taking shelter beneath a
tree.
Nunc
ran through their usual kind of set and devotees will be impressed to
hear that for the first time, we needed neither a set list
nor the words. ( Hurrah!) Expertly and with nary a hitch (!!) we rolled out April Morning,When I Get To The
Border, Bring It On Home To Me, Down Where The Drunkards Roll, Cold
Haily Windy Night and Perfect. (Which it damn near was as far as we were concerned).
The
dog was clearly agitated by the thunderstorm raging outside. Lying just behind me, it
snored gently throughout,in the Key of E. This made melodramatic gestures, Dad Dancing and twirling the microphone stand
over my head Rod Stewart style, a logistical impossibility. The
audience sang along bravely-even when we didn't have a chorus-which
was nice. They seemed a very friendly bunch all round. Dan Gascoigne and Amelia had arrived with their Great Uncle Des, and so that added to the general joviality.
After
our set, replenishing (again!) my pint (Flossy and I agreed-it seemed
rude not to), I was astonished to see a young man wearing a Pork Pie
hat fall from his piano stool. And he wasn't even playing it. I reckon it was all part of his act,too.
Blimey, he was good. Later on he would set up an electric piano in the stage area and
play anything rather well. From Classical to Jerry Lee Lewis's “Great Balls of
Fire.”
On
directly after us was our old buddy Des Patalong, and although we
heckled him very rudely throughout, he seemed unabashed. Among his numbers he performed “The Call ” a song my sister wrote (and which
Flossy recorded whilst in Pennyroyal). Very wisely, with half his
sessions choir in the room, he also did a song off his recent (excellent)
album, the poignant “ Shallow Brown.” Shrewdly, because he knows that's my favourite and six part harmonies rocked the rafters. This time it
wasn't a train, a thunderstorm, a piano stool or the dog breaking
wind which caused the vibrations.It was the second time we'd heard/seen Amelia as she was at Nuneaton Folk Club recently. Her distinctive voice remains as enigmatically difficult to categorise as ever. (She loves that!). An appealing vibrato and some highly original phrasing, with a good choice of material. But promise me Dan and Amelia, you'll have a go at a Billy Holliday, Memphis Minnie or Bessie Smith number soon? That voice was made for the Blues.
By about 4.40pm the drenched egg-chasers were paddling in and so JK very kindly dropped Flossy and I off in Gosford Street. The Twisted Barrel beckoned, as Flossy had to meet her other half there. He had been to The Ricoh. (Someone has to) to watch Coventry City claw a point from that Football Behemoth Northampton Town. He felt he would need a beer afterwards and he was dead right. Luckily, there were a few on offer.
Whilst in the TB we were greeted cordially by guitar wizard Glyn Finch. He looked both dapper and delicate-we suspected he'd had a good night there the night before. I also got talking to one of the guys behind a new Listings magazine- -#Cov&Warks. We had a good old reminisce about Jimmy Jimmy, the early Specials ,Godiva Festivals from long ago and other stuff. We were sure we'd met before,but the Twisted Barrel is like that. It's a friendly, busy networking sort of place,and my kind of watering hole. Like the Broomfield Tavern.
