Filled with a slowly rekindling enthusiasm for supporting live music last Thursday, I got home from a second consecutive night out clubbing(!!). Before turning in, exhausted (but fulfilled). As midnight struck, the last thing I read was a constructive comment. It was from an NFC regular Jak Lynch, posted on the Folk Monthly Facebook Page. I replied to it with a comment about how comforting it was to see him again. To be clear over the use of the word "again," it wasn’t irony, suggesting that Jak had returned suddenly, to something previously left alone, it was a compliment. It was an acknowledgement of those foot soldiers like Jak who can be seen not occasionally, but again and again as often as time, work and family commitments permit, supporting live music in their local venues. I'm very conscious of the fact that if people like Jak don't keep on coming, these venues will eventually cease to function.
It is harder, in physical terms to plan an event in advance than it is to just turn up in a back room and take it in turns to play music. That isn’t a lofty statement of superiority, it is just a fact. Yes, performing is hard, but doing both, first the coordination of the event and then the performance, with the added responsibility of catering for an audience who (quite rightly) arrive expecting to be entertained, can be doubly punishing. And the killer is when, (after all that pre-planning and psyching up beforehand), hardly anyone turns up. It is disappointing for all: a shared anti climax for audience and performer alike.
That didn’t happen on Thursday night. Someone reminiscing about the Good Old Days pointed out that when NFC first launched, 60-70 people regularly used to assemble in a concert room on a cold wet Wednesday to enjoy live music. Sometimes even more. Last night, as we slowly topped thirty, I felt elation. Because these are different times, we had mucked about with the date and given the number of counter attractions, it was encouraging to see that many finding us at all. The Pandemic definitely hasn’t yet fully gone away. People are still recovering. We are now officially in Recession. There is a cost of living crisis. Times are hard for everyone except the very rich. You can see that every time you set foot in a shop or watch a news bulletin.
Our region is blessed by the number of people who want to be seen and to perform in Folk Clubs and open venues. Which in turn generates unusually high numbers of places aspiring to promote music. Unfortunately there are not the same sort of audience members able or prepared to come out every night of a week to support them. It is a physical ( and a mathematical) impossibility for them to do so. But with all that said, on Thursday there was a decent enough number of people in the room to make it all seem worthwhile. They clapped and cheered and whooped. They sang along, and pounded the tables where (appropriate ). They even danced, at times, amplifying the extraordinary levels of enthusiasm and commitment pulsating towards them from the stage.
That wasn’t the only thing pulsating. It being not our usual First Wednesday, there were other events going on down below. The Crew, being the prime music pub in the area, I suddenly felt low frequency rock bass guitar thrumming through the floor and into my kneecaps. I thought at first it was radio interference, coming through the monitor speakers onto the stage. On further examination I discovered a full blooded Rock Karaoke going on downstairs. Whilst the rest of the town slept, The Crew was rocking, both upstairs and downstairs. Fair play to them. It was only 9pm-it’s either get out and enjoy yourselves or sit at home watching a group of idiots make fools of themselves in an Australian jungle.
Our headline act were Thorpe and Morrison. The returning Harry and Sean. Joined at the hip, musically. They had wowed us with a support spot to Kevin Dempsey previously and did not disappoint this time. Harry's percussive guitar style had us peering anxiously up to the stage through our fingers at times, especially after he admitted he had fitted a new set of strings. They must be A grade telegraph wire because he gave those guitars a proper hammering at times.. Harry is capable of subtle nuances up and down the fret and delicate tricksy harmonics at times, but when needs must, he can belt the living bejasus out of most parts of a guitar body. Combined with his reinforced boots stomping out a beat on an amplified board you really wouldn't know that Bon Jovi were being simulated downstairs.
Sean's fiddle playing is a sophisticated counterpoint. As well as Celtic stuff reinforcing his Scottish roots there are elements of Scandinavian and Appalachian about his solos. He can rock out with the fiddle too but at other times the soft, gentle sounds he coaxes from the bow or plucking the strings are that of a violin rather than a fiddle, exemplifying a classical background.
And then we come onto Michelle Hollaway. Singer with Bonfire Radicals, experimentally branching out on her own. A pocket battleship of a vocalist in her patterned tights, furiously passionate as she blasted out thirty minutes of dynamite. If you wanted a definition of "Owned The stage" there it was. Right there for all to see and hear. Acapella songs delivered with a raw, and angry belief. With the audience firmly clenched in her diminutive fist, she stood up there belting out highly charged lyrics with emotion so fierce no-one hardly dared to breathe. Later she would return to join Sean and Harry in an electrifying cover of "Sovay" and join in with some furious instrumental passages which made Ian Anderson on one leg seem positively mundane.
Winding it back, with some running order rearrangements due to logistical obstacles, Tyburn-Jan Richardson and Hedley-started and finished the evening. By a strange quirk of fate and National Rail timetabling, they were there at the beginning to kick the evening off and back to round it all off at the end. Thanks also to a bit of input from Atherstone Folk Club's Phil Benson who linked the acts whilst I made a dash to Trent Valley Station. Jan's singing was as good as I had ever heard her. There was a waspish, raunchy tone to a couple of her numbers which really caught the imagination. All complimented by Hedley's sensitive and sophisticated playing.
It would be churlish not to mention the latest Church End draught Real Ale laid on-Fallen Angel, once again served in a superlative condition. And thanks to to Ross for his work on the Sound desk and to Aaron, a bundle of energy behind the bar. (And behind the vacuum cleaner, early doors!)
Thanks also to Ray Buckler for these photos. Our long time friend John B. Smith would have loved a night such as Wednesday, but all on the local Folk Scene were saddened to hear of his tragic bereavement on the day. Sincere Condolences from all at NFC go to JBS, a tower of strength in recording and capturing performance shots at all local venues. We are truly sorry for your loss, mate.
It was simply, one of those nights. Just as with Sunjay and Lee the night before at Bedworth F.C., the musicianship was breathtaking. If you missed one or the other or both of these excellent sessions -truly anyone who was there would feel genuinely sorry for you.
