What's in a word?

        The last weekend in July for me is always a melancholy time of year. I tend to get depressed. Some relief is brought by Birthdays and anniversary celebrations right at the end of the month. Made better when they are spent abroad or far from home. Much of this annual gloom concerns the word “Warwick.” Mention of this latter day Deadwood makes me by turns angry,sad and uncomfortable. The end of July usually helps lift the end of this seasonal depression caused by my county town.Some of my “friends” understand this,some think it hilarious,a few resent it bitterly and take offence at me even daring to comment on it. Most coudn't give a flying f***.

       Warwickshire is a county in which paternal generations of my family have lived in for over four centuries and to whom our Council Tax is still paid. My father and grandfather served in The Royal Warwickshire Regiment. My grandad fought on The Somme and as a Military Policeman my dad was billeted in Warwick during part of WW2, defending it against the menace of an Invasion which never came.

          Those of you expecting another annual rant over the musical Apartheid known as Warwick Folk Festival may be disappointed. My views on this cosy celebration of mutual back-slapping,social exclusion,snobbery and smugness, rigorously controlled and policed by Folk Royalty, are already well documented elsewhere.

            Don't get me wrong. In various bands and solo I've been very welcome at Warwick Folk Club and Warwick Words Festival. Appreciative and discerning audiences who have always added positive comments afterwards. I like the Town Centre and The Racecourse. But the place also seems to generate unfairness and injustice at times. For example,on BBC Radio 4’s Today programme recently I heard that it was broadcast “ live from Warwick University.”  I didn’t listen to all of it,but I expect that,(as the Media so often do),mention of its actual geographical location was studiously and meticulously ignored. Warwick University of course, is not actually in Warwick. It sits firmly within the City of Coventry,one of two award winning Universities sited within the boundary of The U.K. City of Culture 2021. I have little doubt that mention of the “C” word was carefully avoided by the BBC throughout transmission however.

         And have you enjoyed this glorious summer? Yes the lawns are parched and the songbirds are struggling,but for a while it’s been like the Mediterranean climate has come home to  Warwickshire. Gazebos on patios.Outdoor meals.Windows wide open to aerate the house. Barbies and parties and sitting outside late with a cafetiere,reading a book, listening to birdsong as the twilight and evening peace descends. But that last Sylvan scene was not for us on weekdays throughout June and July.  Before 10pm, all doors and windows had to be closed. Regardless of the humid,hot sticky nights we've all been experiencing. Our large and beautiful garden was deserted past 10pm. Why? For our County Councillor,(also a Parish Councillor)  a Mr. Warwick (I'm not joking) is one of many who rubber-stamped the nightly closure of the M69 weekdays from 10pm-6am the following morning.Needless to say he doesn't live near the B4109 which runs past our back garden. 

          The diversionary route in force whilst these closures are in effect sets itself. Chosen by Highways England and endorsed by Warwickshire County Council it means that the single carriageway road at the foot of our garden has to carry three lanes of motorway for each eight hours of closure. The speed signs and limits are ignored overnight so as to greater facilitate the wheels of commerce and industry roaring onward. By day. the sad man with a mobile camera still occasionally hides in the back of the police van parked outside the Nature Reserve at the foot of the hill. Woe betide any tractor driver, horse, or pensioner exceeding 30 mph down this hill in daylight. But by night the Rule of Law is suspended. Anything goes.

           Some nights it is the northbound section of the M69 between Junctions 1 and 2 which is closed for a “routine maintenance” which has lasted six months. Other nights it is the southbound carriageways. As yet, it hasn’t been both, but I have no doubts that the worthies over in County Hall will eventually try that one out. Probably durinbg the next hot spell. 

       The juggernauts of DPD and Stobart and all the other "Logistics" (lol) companies  thundered relentlessly through the village (and others on the route) all night every night except weekends. Saturday and Sunday nights we were allowed a brief respite. Traffic during the day is busy,but this ludicrous situation resulted in our night time traffic being heavier than during the daytime. No wonder houses here aren't selling.

       So,like The Sheriff of Nottingham, my County Town enforces stiff taxes, but offers little other than misery and discomfort in return. It seems ashamed of the large vibrant city within its midst and has unceasingly tried to offload it onto other Metropolitan Boroughs such as  the lurking behemoth West Midlands. On the annual weekend when some of you were invited to occupy its stages and fringe venues, or strolled  its venerable streets admiring its fine buildings remember it is excluded Serfs and Villeins like us,unwelcome and uninvited,hanging onto our prized ornaments and framed pictures each time a tanker or car transporter rumbles past, who are subsidising your alfresco pleasures. As you sat in your tent or motor home,watching the sunset, strumming a lute or humming along with some Hungarian Nose Flute Ensemble, did you spare us ostracised and excluded Plebs a thought?

Tump

         At a time of year when the local folk community is annually reminded of what divides us (rather than what unites us),it is an uplifting experience to revisit the kind of local institution which is the lifeblood of "live" grassroots music. Tump Folk at The Humber Hotel in Coventry is one of the area's oldest established folk clubs. Presided over by the gentle and generous leadership of Karen Orgill it has continued for 15 years to operate no exclusions with a "Come All Ye " approach to performers. Regardless of their background and material, all are made welcome  

            The Tump seems to be on the up again. Some sessions are held next door in the concert room,but the singer sessions occur in the front lounge. It's a very democratic kind of place,where you can workshop new material or resurrect old favourites without being judged. If things go wrong and you forget a line or miss a note, there is just a friendly nod. A shared cameraderie. All in this together. 

          It says much about the vibe there that the amiable Ian Bland,an international "star" (he'll probably hate me saying that), on a biennial visit from his native Australia,had dropped in to rub shoulders with nonentities like me. He just took it in turns with the others,delivering a collection of well written and occasionally waspish songs. His strong voice and polished guitar style are hallmarks of a respect that is well merited. We'll try and get him out to Nuneaton Folk Club some time.  

              Sharing a settee with Ian was Keith Parris.Better known perhaps as a Sound Engineer and a familiar figure at many Folk Clubs and festivals.He passed on several invitations to sing but was eventually persuaded to get up and do an unaccompanied number about Poachers. I didn't recognise him at first. He wasn't wearing glasses last time I saw him,had a different hat on and last night he was sporting a very natty pony tail

         Whispering Campbell McKee sat in a pair of shorts on another settee in a bay window. Another loyal regular of The Tump, he doesn't go to most other local Folk venues,although we still occasionally try to persuade him to do so. Next to him sat his wife Jaqui, crocheting and listening to the music. This gave a cosy  "at home" front parlour kind of vibe to proceedings.You half expected an old tabby cat to be snoring away on one of the (many) comfy chairs. Campbell sang an Uncle Len standard "Hey That's No Way to say Goodbye " which helped break  the ice. He sang a couple more songs,did not mention India once and then left early as he had to be up by 6 am. Rock and Roll. 

            One wag later wrote on Facebook, "you never usually see one Campbell at a Folk Club and then two come along together." Campbell Perry and Colin Squire have evidently been working very hard on rehearsing material in the guise of "Poacher's Pocket". Setting aside the fact that a poacher's pocket is a large baggy receptacle for keeping wet,smelly dead things in,their work is becoming very polished. Nice harmonies, well-arranged and with some fine instrumentation. Nice to hear some of the songs Campbell and Jan used to perform together being aired again,too.Jan would approve I'm sure. Campbell, wearing what looked like the top half of a very camp pair of pyjamas, had the cheek to criticise my attire. Two nice chaps,delivering nice stuff. Well done, fellas.

 

        Rob Oakey has hosted and guested music sessions at places since the days when the wheel was first invented. Rob has a sense of humour that is dryer than an old sandal in a Saharan wadi. Last night he seemed in a very mellow mood, including a couple of Simon & Garfunkel numbers in his repertoire.

               Rob can often be found in the company of Christina,a lady who writes her own poetry and recites the work of others. Much of her work is about Inland waterways. Last night she had to be coaxed, cajoled and persuaded for oh,two or three seconds before treating us to a reading. One of them was Albert and The Lion. I don't think that has a connection with the Oxford Canal. But you never know. 

       Adam likes Neil Young. No shame in that-our current set list has three Neil Young songs in it. He seemed a little ill at ease with this initially,but there was no need to be. The timbre of his voice was well suited to some excellent NY cover versions. And for good measure, he added a Marc Bolan song second half! At the interval Adam showed me his current set list. Some very ambitious titles there,none of which would be considered by fanatics as Folk music,but ones which had every right to be there. Barriers are coming down and Neil Young himself has embraced many different genres on a long musical journey. He is respected by many in the Folk and Roots world-even Lynrd Skynrd have forgiven him. Here you can see Rob photo bombing as Adam does his stuff. 

         The ubiquitous Max Wright is home at last,returned from another of  his many forays abroad. When at home, he is a stalwart supporter of all our local Folk venues. I'd last seen him a fortnight ago,when he had trekked all the way out to Napton On The Hill to catch Drunc Monkey closing the Folk On The Water Festival there. On Wednesday he was out at Baxterley,documenting all the goings on at Atherstone Folk Club. 
        If Max,Ian and The McKees were to pool their travel experiences to write a book, it would be a substantial volume. Max also takes lots of excellent photos. He took all of those I've used here. But not one of himself. (How could he without a selfie) So here,for the sake of balance is one I took earlier. Max had his banjo with him and regaled us with some traditional music including a bit of gospel. Yes Lord. 

               Another all round good egg is Nigel Ward. You never know with Nige which instrument he is going to bring along. Last night it happened to be the fiddle. i was pleased by that as I happen to consider him one of the best players around. he is also one of the fastest. At one stage,having invited Colin Squire to accompany him,it seemed as if Colin's guitar strings would catch fire as Nigel upped the ante and increased the tempo. 

                          As for me, I'd been a little poorly and I was very disappointed by having our weekend slot at Stonefest cancelled because of a World Cup Final. I was feeling ring-rusty and just needed to get out and sing somewhere. I did "The Odeon," "Albert Balls" and "Impromptu Irish Band," as being in a band nowadays I don't often get a chance to do my own stuff. I also sang "Vigilante Man." 

                Elsewhere within the week,festivities will commence just up the road at a very different kind of event. The involvement of local performers there will be highly selective and chosen by a small and exclusive elite.. In direct contrast to The Tump, admission won't be free.  If you do want to perform there,whether Main Stage, subsidiary attraction  or simply  Fringe,if you rock the boat you will not be welcome. Not this year or any other. Fair enough. Good Luck to them all. Those of us on the outside, whether it be for having the impertinence to protest about  annual musical apartheid or because we are considered not good enough (or both!) will just continue to ignore it. It is the Folk equivalent of Brexit. You either love it or loathe it .And besides...I'm only jealous. Of course I am. 

              The Tump is everything the other event is not. All are made welcome at The Humber. All forms of music are embraced:ability is counted as more important than who you know. Incidentally one shot last night shows me on my phone. It looks rather rude but what I was doing was writing down everyone's name and trying to record the song titles they were doing .I'm so absent minded nowadays that if I don't do that I'll forget  er....I'll forget....um...now what was I saying?

Folk On The Water 2018

        One beautiful Saturday morning in May,three years ago, I sat alone in a car park in The University Hospital Coventry and cried until  I had no more pain or emotion  left to give. No-one saw me:it was a private moment. I had just said farewell to the second of two tiny,premature babies in their incubators. The nurses and doctors were fabulous and all the family were very brave. But there was nothing that anyone could do further to help them. My son's tiny boys survived long enough only to be registered. Shortly after a bleak funeral a few weeks later. I learned that almost simultaneously, my daughter had also miscarried. Three grandchildren lost in a matter of days. It was a horrible time. I won't ever forget it. 

       Now,miraculously I have two bonny,strapping grandchildren,a boy and a girl, Both are just beyond or approaching their second birthdays.Their arrival and subsequent development helped soften the grief and emptiness of those initial losses. So I was both honoured and proud that Nunc,had been invited  to bring down the curtain on this summer's Folk On The Water Sessions. Now in its tenth year the FOTW season sees a  long series of waterside concerts and events across South Warwickshire. All to raise funds for the marvellous children's charity, Zoe's Place.

        We'd played at fundraisers for them before but I had not been back to Napton on The Hill since I myself was a boy. It was a magical place then, but on a blissfully warm Summer's night in 2018 ,in a natural amphitheatre,the fields around The Folly Inn pub seemed imbued with an almost magical quality. Hosted. presented compered and organised by Dutch Van Spall, the final concert  was a triumph all round. 

        The stage was a fantastic and imposing  piece of stepped wooden architecture. The field was dotted with marquees,food stalls and an impressive outdoor bar. The three car parks were full and the pub was doing a roaring trade,its hardworking staff flat out to try and assuage all thirst and hunger. The audience were scattered across the area,with more arriving (and leaving) by a picturesque humpback bridge throughout the evening. Some had followed the event via narrowboat,many more had made their way along the delightful,rustic, country lanes. It all helped to give it a sense of Hobbiton and The Shire. 

       Our good friends Wilson Wright were on the same bill. Alas we will be seeing far less of them from now on as they relocate to the North of Scotland soon. Their close harmonies, John's fine guitar work,Hilary's flute and the sensitive arrangements with some beautiful singing  helped build the atmosphere. There was an added poignancy to their mellow groove as we  all sang along to the chorus of "Ride On" with them. "Ride on:See you. I could never go with you no matter if I wanted to to."   Very apt. 

                  Other acts on included FOTW resident singer and coxswain, Elan Marie,  Napton Sound Man Kieran Taylour with Nicky Stewart,Lorna Dea and Roz Bruce. Roz was a feisty combination of Lily Allen and Janis Joplin. She had a proper rock voice,no doubt about that and her own songs carried some very inventive lyrics. She also had a penchant for reworking Leonard Cohen,finishing with "Allelujah."

       The headline act was the much admired and highly respected Jack Blackman. We were treated to some masterful and inspired slide and guitar picking from this talented young man. What  with the heat and all, we could have been out on the Mississippi Delta rather than scattered alongside the Oxford Canal. Jack's act came to a bit of a sudden end when a guitar string snapped on a first encore. He carried on after accepting the loan of a guitar from Dutch, but without time to fit a replacement, his Pride and Joy was unable to continue and Jack waved goodbye, to generous and well-deserved applause. 

         And then finally it was up to us to bring the evening to a close. we opened, after a more than generous introduction from Dutch. We had finally persuaded Paul Moore to wear a daft shirt,and so with Flossy in a flowing floral number  we certainly stood out, as you can see. John and Paul with their Elwood Brothers hats added a further dash of country as we zipped into a Casey Chambers stomp to start. That's not a stove with a chimney by the way. It's a very natty single P.A. stick like the one Malc uses at Bedworth Folk Club. The sound it produced,driven by Kieran, was magnificent. 

               As you can see from the later photos, other than those dotted about in the tented pavilions like exiled Lannisters enjoying a tournament, a lot of the audience were quite a long way away,and were spread about the site. At the bars,at picnic tables,in the pub garden:it took a bit of work to engage with them and get them singing. Our segue of the CSNY songs "Find The Cost of Freedom/Ohio" helped whip up a bit of emotion,and with John and Paul whacking out a percussive lead and rhythm section,feet were definitely tapping already. Aided no doubt by the plentiful supplies of Hook Norton beer and artisanale ciders on offer. (Notice that  glass of Hooky, handily situated by my left foot?)  

       We kept the Americana/Roots thing going as Flossy tore into John Prine's "Angel from Montgomery"-and with these temperatures it was meteorologically more like Alabama than Warwickshire. Some of our regular chorus songs helped warm the audience up further. A couple of Richard Thompsons and then, to our immense satisfaction, people started dancing as we launched into "Perfect." They kept on going through "Weather With You" and "When Love Comes To Town,"and we had them in our pocket.  

         It was broad daylight when we started but as the set evolved a sunset bathed the area and as we finished, the stars were twinkling up above.all our heads. We had to drop the tempo down before someone passed out, so we did "Bring It On Home" and Randy Newman's "Guilty"-both well received. Here you can see me,as the dusk draws, in pointing rudely at ace photographer John Wright and delivering the ultimate verse of Bring It On Home: " You know I tried to treat you right/but you stayed out.you stayed out every night."  Typical John. 

            We finished the set as planned and timed,with "Knocking On Heaven's Door,"  When we stopped playing the chorus and handed it over to the audience,they took it up wonderfully and it echoed around the fields. Amazing what a few beers in the sunshine can do. There was time  for an encore so  we treated them to " The Wild Rover" segued with Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Cue more dancing. 

         We had a fantastic time. This was our third fourth outdoor gig in a row. The fine summer has certainly helped created a vibe,but this one was extra special. A responsive crowd,splendid Hook Norton beer,good food, surrounded by friends, and a small but noisy Nunc following, we were all buzzing when we ended and left the stage. Could have been those midges I suppose, but we were definitely buzzing.

           There were logs blazing in a fire pit and the partygoers were still sitting cosily around it  when we left.  And  it seemed to me that part of that Napton magic,with the music and the setting and the sunset and the stars,was magnifying a feeling of well being. Rob and Ray,named after musicians themselves,may not have had long to dwell on this earth. But they were out there,listening and watching,somewhere.