Sketches

    Like many other Folk outfits,Sally Ironmonger and Brian Carter have not been entirely inactive during Lockdown. They have been proactive and have managed to issue a new album. In the past, despite hailing from Kent (that's almost Brittany in my part of The Midlands), they have (deservedly) been regular guests at almost all Warwickshire venues. This newest release is an ideal way to keep in touch, for anyone currently missing them. 

     They take their songwriting seriously,whether compiling albums or assembling "live" performances. Consequently they are always entertaining in both formats. Like their live shows there are (as always) plenty of laughs in this collection,a lot of good music,some singalong choruses and an occasional sublime lyric that sticks in your head for ages afterwards. It's not all nudge nudge wink wink,although there is a certain Bamforth Postcard End of The Pier quality about them. 

      The title song is a nod to Boz who illustrated many stories and articles by Charles Dickens. It's an apt reference because like Sally, Dickens had a strong Kentish connection. He also loved to draw little pocket-sized caricatures of people,which the work of Boz complimented.  A typical example of an Ironmonger sketch is The Bitter End which combines Sally's unique vocal style with some poignant subject matter and clever wordplay. 

      Having myself written a song putting Piracy into a modern context  (Risk Assessment in my case), I loved "Threadneedle Street."  Here they are at their angriest,describing "Tax evading asset stripping crocodiles," but  waspish humour provides a good vehicle for making a serious political point.  "The bastard sons of Blackbeard now walk Threadneedle Street," Sally croons,reasonably. I've joined in with this song at a live performance, singing merrily along with the choruses and echoing Brian's simple one word counter refrain of "Bastards."  It was a very liberating experience. 

     In previous reviews of Sally's  releases,I've mentioned her affinity with the late,great Victoria Wood.  They both write in rhyme but the lyrics here are never forced or contrived thereby avoiding the trapdoor of end-of-line doggerel. In fairness, this admiration of VW is no secret and Sally does tend to finish her stage act with a brilliant homage to her. For those of us still missing that  Woods-style brilliant observational writing,Sally is a most acceptable substitute. She has the same acid touch to some of her lyrics and imagery, managing to pack so much into each single verse. 

        The songs on Sketches are far from superficial. Some indeed are full portraits. They have a witty,clever,reflective content. The targets are often everyday themes we can all associate with. Sally's delivery is wry,tongue in cheek and sometimes vernacular. She makes no attempt to mask her accent,so good for her. "Sometimes a song appears waving a flag and demanding attention," the sleeve notes observe,adding,"and sometimes it is like trying to squeeze toothpaste back into the tube."  Well...quite. 

             "Backstreet Boozer" rightly laments the passing of many of our great British pubs,no doubt currently being hugely accelerated by the horror of Coronavirus. Those of us who loved sinking a pint of Redemption or Tring in the Bree Louise whilst waiting for a train home from nearby Euston, now hope that the Bowler Hats responsible for its compulsory purchase( for HS2 clearance and subsequent  demolition), choke on their Gin and Tonics.   

         When I first saw them, Brian's role was not as forward as it is nowadays. He tended to play a few instruments,add occasional colour to Sally's magnificent vocals and was the straight man in those amusing verbal asides to the audience. On Sketches he contributes guitar (including  some cheeky little solos), mandicello, mandolin, banjo and Shrutti box. AND his name appears first in the writing credits. Nine of the twelve tracks are theirs,whilst the others are by Ian Petrie, the Chumbawumba team (no less!) and one is a cover of a Traditional child ballad which is over one hundred years old.  

          The songs are all of a sensible duration,between 3.30-4.50 mins. I know I bang on about this but as a Folk Jock and Club organiser, this is a godsend. So many artistes make the mistake of writing (and then recording) interminably long songs which won't get airplay and will send an audience off to sleep. If you can't get a strong message, a moral standpoint or a good story condensed into less than five minutes then you are at odds with an ancient Folk Tradition. You're neither a balladeer nor a troubadour. 7+ minutes of preaching or overkill will only engage Folk Nerds of the most seriously committed kind. 

         Much to admire then,in this fine collection. Their songs make you smile, shake your head,nod in agreement and develop a yearning to throttle some of the objects of their penmanship. If you've seen this duo already or own any of their previous albums,I'm preaching to the converted. If not-get it. It's available via their website as a hard copy or download. By clicking on the link here  you can also sample snippets of each song-so you can see I'm not fibbing!

      http://www.sallyironmonger.co.uk/

New Album Review

A Day Will Come              Will Pound                    Lulubug Records

           All that  has happened since I first received a review copy of this album makes Will’s chosen title seem profoundly prophetic. Which was not his original intention. The title is a Victor Hugo quotation made in 1849-and Hugo was talking then about a United Europe. In the advance publicity Will explains “this was never a pro Remain or pro Leave project-it’s about identity music and the subject of home.” And that's what this album is. An homage to what we seemed about to lose at the time of recording. 

          Time to fess up here. I know harmonica and melodeon player extraordinaire Will Pound in person. Only to nod to, but he's a Facebook friend, I've seen him "live" a few times and I own some of his previous albums. He's a complex guy who doesn't always find it easy to remain politically neutral. Music stirs him greatly. I know he loves Europe especially travelling and performing abroad and they love him there too. Like many of us Will didn't find Brexit easy,nor does he wear his heart on his sleeve much. He is blessed to be a fine (no,a gifted musician) and so is in the fortunate position of having the armoury to make a statement without words.

           Because he has (on demand and consequently of necessity), over time mixed and performed with an International Who's Who of European musicians, he already had the basic subject matter in his head Will stores music in there like many of us keep photographs or memories. In performance he appears sometimes to pluck tunes riffs,licks,etc out of the ether,adding them to a piece as he goes along. But what is evident in this case is that he has also done considerable background research, adding to what was already a remarkable memory bank.

           And here is the end result for all to listen to. The burgundy coloured album cover cleverly resembles an EU passport with a booklet inside explaining the background to each tune. (Those of you familiar with him will recognise this attention to detail).  The content is an album representing traditional music of the countries which represented the EU at the time of recording. It's a fair bet that Farage,Tim Martin, Gove et al won't listen to it much. (Worth buying perhaps, for that fact alone?). 

         He had to learn 27 tunes from the member states and then work them into a recording. They were compacted down to 14 tracks,most of which are paired. (Only Ireland gets a solo track). For some this would have been a daunting nightmare. For Will,it is a dream come true and a labour of love. The music itself burns with the intense passion that is his trademark. It is impossible to hide the way he feels about each of these countries. 

       The guest list, as one might expect, is remarkable.( Who wouldn't jump at the chance to accompany someone like Will Pound?) And yet. as I know from direct experience, even though he is an Internationally famed musician, when at a loose end he is just as likely to turn up somewhere in his beloved Warwickshire and listen,or play along with,local people. I remember on one occasion taking to the stage in one venue and being intimidated by seeing Will in the front row. After we'd begun, my heart sank as he rested his head on the table. I thought that was despair but someone told me later this is how he likes to listen to music. I took comfort from that! 

          Probably the biggest name additionally involved is percussionist Evelyn Glennie. She evidently recognises a fellow genius and makes no secret of her admiration for Will's music. Also part of the ensemble, (one formed specifically for this album) are Bodhan Piasecki, Patsy Reid, Jenn Butterworth, the ubiquitous Jude Rees and John Parker. Guesting occasionally are Liz Carroll, Gudrun Waither and the Stream of Sound Youth Orchestra. 

           The project,understandably, had the backing of the Arts Council England. If you are expecting a stream of pithy, acidic protest songs about Brexit, forget it. There are no lyrics apart from Piaseckis poems, but this is as eloquent as any wordy songwriter's epic. More so probably, because the music and the imagery it invokes does the talking. 

         The gatefold sleeve contains a detailed leaflet giving individual track credits and details of all the tunes and songs involved. A Day Will Come was originally intended for release on May 8th 2020 and was to coincide with a brief tour taking in Somerset, Yorkshire,Suffolk and Oxfordshire before concluding on home turf at Warwick Arts Centre. Obviously,that won't now be happening,but plans are afoot to tour next May instead. Clips are available on You Tube and you can download the whole album at https://willpound.bandcamp.com  With a running time of 70 minutes plus,it will give you plenty to listen to. 

A Bird In The Hand

        Frankly I was dreading this one. Not because of the Guests, Bird In The Belly. (whom,for the sake of brevity we will refer to from now on as BITB).  No, I knew they would be brilliant. (And they were). I have played tracks from both their albums regularly on Anker Folk and have published glowing reviews of both CDs online and in magazines. I have also dearly enjoyed albums from Hickory Signals and Green Ribbons who include BITB personnel in their number. I was also confident about the individual strengths of each of the floor spots. And Nunc had actually put in a rehearsal and a gig between the last NFC night and this one,so we were looking forward to airing some new material.

                No, my apprehension was a mix of trepidation infused by the impending Coronavirus and a longstanding family anxiety connected with that which (finally) resolved itself later the following morning.  Absolutely nothing to do with panic or fear of enclosed spaces or big,smelly,sneezing groups of people. Oh and it was cold,so very cold. ( Even though the hall is fully centrally heated)  "And those stairs are so steep! " ( Right here I'd like to pay tribute to one of our most dedicated followers, Doreen Tiernan, who struggles up those stairs pretty well every NFC evening, even though she's on two sticks,and has been been since Day One. God bless you and Patrick, Dor!      

             We'd had house full notices on the first Wednesday in February,thanks to the pulling power of Kevin Dempsey. My greatest fear on this March Wednesday  was not of being struck down by the Four Horsemen, but purely dread of not enough people turning out to welcome a band who had travelled all the way from Brighton to entertain us.

           Entertain us they did. The video clips I'd pasted up on the NFC Facebook page beforehand obviously did the trick. The place was busy. Not rammed, but comfortable,with a fair sprinkling of new faces. I felt an almost paternal pride as BITB concluded their second fabulous set with the infamous ear worm "Give Me Back My Heart Again." The opening (unaccompanied) section was mesmerising and the following more upbeat part got the whole hall rocking. With some imposing synchronised clapping. 

          Nunc got the evening under way by running  some new material past the NFC audience. We were,alas without our lead guitarist Paul Moore (he won't mind me calling him that),so it was down to Hammerhands, John Kearney to be both the engine room and the supercharger.  "All Gotta Die Someday," was a late change to our running order. That  wasn't new of course-it has become a kind of anthem which we start our set of with when playing elsewhere. It had never seemed more ironic or appropriate. Once that was under way and we'd all had a good (if nervous) laugh at ourselves, it was time to lower the mood a little.

          Both John and I have lost good friends recently-its the penalty of growing older together-and Nunc had been working on arrangements of "Dark End Of The Street " and "My Old Friend The blues." We had only done them publicly once before, but they went o.k. Must admit I found singing both quite emotional. 

           Up came Nuneaton Virgin John Oswin to follow that. I'd seen him twice elsewhere so I knew the NFC crowd would appreciate him,and he certainly went at it right from the off.  With his Trilby shades and tin star and his midwest Straight Out of Broad Lane drawl, he transported us all away across the plains and onto a Mississippi porch somewhere. Y'all. Doing all his own stuff, too with a very authentic ring to it. We'll be calling him back.

           Wes Hall, carer,NFC regular and all round Good Egg followed. He got the audience singing and was also going like the clappers until he fell briefly off the horse with his final number,"Buddy Can You Spare a Dime." An odd one that, as I've seen him perform his adaptation of that song flawlessly in many other venues. But let me tell you,being up on that stage sometimes does things to you.  With the neatest of shimmies,Wes was back in the saddle and left the stage to a deserved ovation. Thanks for your company, Wes!

             We were anticipating the JP's but as it happened only Jane Moss of that duo was available,and she too had a stormer. The Uke is not always an instrument you associate with belting out hot rhythms,but that gal certainly whacked the hell out of it in her first song-she's quite a player. We will certainly not ever look at Crows in the same light again,and (by request) she finished her set with a song which was unanimously judged to be the winner in a recent songwriting competition. Joined by Jon Harrington and John Kearney, it was a classic NFC collaboration. All this despite Jane having been traumatised by the Onion Roundabout beforehand,and a brief ten second warm up and run through at the bar before the night got under way. 

             Adam Wilson is another NFC regular. He'd brought copies along of a new album with him but modestly (unlike some people I know!!!) hadn't pressed them upon anyone. He gave us his version of "Sandy Grey" and (at my request) "Old Man." I'm sure he's really had enough of doing that at NFC and would much rather share some of his other, (excellent) self-written songs with us,but there you go. Perks of the Folk Club Organiser. NFC followers will be pleased to hear that they get a credit on the album! 

            So then up strode (or rather hopped? Flew?) BITB. Laura Ward with her soaring, peerless vocals and haunting flute playing. Local lad Ben Webb,with distinctive,at times anguished vocals merging and floating and counterpointing with Laura in a way that was at times hypnotically spooky to the point of gothic. Adam Ronchetti providing percussion and alternating on acoustic guitar whenever Tom Pryor switched from guitar to violin and back which was quite often. Shrutis of various sizes also changed hands several times. Collectively very versatile and with Tom also joining in on vocals,each song was impeccably arranged and professionally delivered.        

              After the interval Nunc returned and ran through "Landslide,"  "Freedom/Ohio" and "Vigilante Man."  We'd already raised the body count well before the raffle draw and then  BITB returned to close the evening. All my favourites were there over the two sets.   "Bees"   "Shoreham River."   "All You Females,"  "New Gate Stone" and many more. 

        They always put an enormous amount of thought into researching,collecting and orchestrating their material. There is much emphasis on resurrecting or restoring Victorian lyrics. With all the Austerity we've had to put up with, with the country swinging to the right and turning its back on Europe as if we still owned an Empire,some of these old songs are  eerily somehow still appropriate. "Tobacco" for instance, extolling the virtues and health giving properties of pipe smoking (!!) Or the spectacularly morbid "Coal Black Wine" which really does make the hairs on your neck stand on end. 

            Absolutely certain to be having them back. Stupid not to. Hopefully before some enterprising BBC Producer engages them to write the background music for the next Dickens or Eliot t.v. dramatisation. We wont be able to afford them then! 

             As usual thanks to Aaron for running the bar (loved the Dropkick Murphys waistcoat) for young Harvey for getting the room ready and running the sound. And to Rich Burlingham for the support he continues to give us. The room and the bar for free. Newly commissioned fliers and posters ready for distribution on the tables by 7pm. ( See above and below). 

      Also thanks to Rich, a new,bigger  Club banner (watch this space) is coming soon. And more locally provenanced Church End Real Ale is available on  draught NFC evenings in the Crew than you'll find anywhere central in the town. Some people are happier drinking lukewarm John Smiths elsewhere but there's no accounting for taste. I much preferred the Goats Milk. 

         So farewell (for the time being) to our new chums from Brighton. Photographs used in this blog btw,in the absence of any others received are all by Mags and I. Except the selfie below which our Flossy took after the show. We had a blast! Can you tell? 

            

Tumping for Joy

         The Tump, based in the Humber Hotel in Coventry is in recovery and many local musicians will applaud that. Lovingly cared for by Karen orgill, it has been Tumping along there ever since it left its previous base at Coombe Club on the outskirts of Coventry. Prior to that it was based in Brinklow, where the Mound (or Tum) of the Norman castle is visible from all over the village. Hence the name.

        For 2020 Karen is holding weekly sessions combining local guests with a plethora of local floor singers. This  formula is bringing a few extra numbers in. She'd asked me to host an evening some time ago,with Nunc fitting in a couple of sets around the other performers. So we obliged last night. The full Nunc line-up this time with myself,Paul Moore,Jon Harrington,John Kearney and Flossy McDougall. 

             It was at times like herding cats. The singers arrived thick and fast,(mostly thick) and rarely stayed in one place longer than a few minutes. Karen soon had a sheaf or crumpled notebook pages in front of her as she wrote and re-wrote a running order. The whole session was delightfully relaxed with the added bonus that it was so eclectic we really did get a little bit of everything. 

            Bette Smith started proceedings, accompanied by Mick. Bette's redoubtable signature tune about being relocated from  low-rise to  high rise accommodation was the highlight. Complete with hand gestures and with a very catchy chorus. Everyone knew "Room Up In The Sky,"  and all of us joined in. I know the hook lines off by heart. Indeed I was singing it even before she'd started.

            Jane Moss followed. Lovely voice with a tiny Ukele: a bit of a pocket dynamo like herself. One of the Coventry Singer-Songwriters, well known to NFC audiences and Anker Folk listeners, Jane did two songs,one of which apparently was a little bit cheeky. 

              Wes Hall's debut  had been written in and out and in again on the running order, but yes,he was there,finally and he did two capital songs. "Nobody Knows you" and "Times They are a Changin'. I happen to know that Karen has added him to her secret list of "good" artistes last night,so he'll be back at The Tump again soon. Hard to believe that until about 4pm yesterday he was keeping the Nuneaton & District Elderly Gentlemen's Binge Drinking Society in order in his designated role as Carer. 

           Ralph Overton followed. We had a bit of Country there from him with a proper good drawlin' vocal style. I'd seen Ralph at Bedduff a weeks back and he made an impression then. When BPS ran a Folk Club in Brinklow,Ralph's brother Bernard used to be a regular visitor. He would nip across the road and do a floor spot for us. Usually with a clutch of hand  made woodwind instruments in his hand. Talented family. 

          Rita Vincent,in remarkably good nick for someone a couple of years older than Campbell McKee, was up next. Once again Mick Smith was providing her with guitar accompaniment. She did a lovely version of "Somewhere over the Rainbow, " which is where Campbell is going on his next holiday,having explored the rest of the planet already.            Speaking of which,Rita's departure meant that it was turn for The McMaestro himself to step purposefully up and whisper a couple of songs. Demonstrating a very interesting guitar style,Campbell  took us through a truly memorable version of a Bob Dylan song. He stopped periodically along the way pretending to highlight fine imagery or to discuss a choice lyric. We humoured him,although we all knew it was really just to turn a page over,or to try to get his breath back. Classic stuff,Campbell. It will genuinely haunt me for years. 

           It was a bit of an anticlimax for Nunc to have to follow that,but we did,and we launched into several new songs. "Dark End Of The Street" went fairly well as did "My Old Friend The Blues." Two popular songs which got everyone singing-verses as well as choruses in some cases. Jon Harrington was hurled into the spotlight to frame his own composition "If There's Any Justice."  This is quite jolly for our usual set list with a relatively low body count for us. We did "Bring It On Home,"  "Angel from Montgomery," "Landslide" and a spot of Irish Reggae before finishing the first half with "Knocking On Heaven's Door." We usually get our audiences to sing a verse of each of those last two unaccompanied. On this occasion The Tump Choir did not disappoint.

                The interval passed swiftly,mostly due to the fact that everyone but me had forgotten to bring any Raffle Prizes. Never mind. We had decided corporately to donate our appearance money back to the club so that should tide them over and help pay Wes Finch's bus fare next week. 

                We started the second half by giving Mick Smith his own spot. Seemed a bit odd seeing him up there alone without a lady by his side,but he gave us two rousing examples of top class Americana. Nigel Ward followed, throwing my pre-prepared introduction into disarray by playing his guitar rather than  appearing with his beloved fiddle. I had just assumed it was permanently attached to his chin but no,Nigel can function and breathe fully without it. 

                Music Chaser Robbo aka Rob Oakey was next, quipping arguing and heckling well before he burst into song and then proving that a good Octagenarian can keep up with the kids by rocking Da House with something we could all have danced to if we were not all so  arthritic. Floor singers were coming as fast as Usain Bolt on a pedal trike now. The clock ticked remorselessly onward as John Ossie Osbourne gave us two raunchy numbers with some very punchy guitar work,looking like an ersatz Doc Holiday in his black hat and with a tin star pinned to his jacket.

                    At some stage I had to let the cat out second half. Not an allegory-just a troubled tabby with its paws crossed. Not herding it-it went more willingly than some of the floor singers. Anyway, Paul Monks then got out his instrument and decided we should all have Sax together. For a few moments the room was like a New Orleans basement as he blew some steamy jazz horn and most people's minds with a couple of moody instrumentals.

                     John Wainwright was next. Karen had pencilled him into the running order cryptically as Wally One Chord, but that was far from the truth. He started each song by strumming one chord it's true,but as his songs got under way,the picking accelerated and was certainly far from mundane. I loved his books on Fell Walking too.

                  The next singer was Chris Sidwell. We had discovered during the course of the evening that we knew each other from a different space time continuum. Chris is a leading light in Crokodile Tears and a Band called The Trees. I have at least two of his albums and we both know David Goody. Small world,eh? He did one of his own and then got everyone singing with "The First Cut is The Deepest."

                  Just time left for Nunc finally to squeeze a few more tunes in. Flossy's Magnum Opus "Guilty," a Neil Young segue, something from that there Kacey Chambers and for a big finish,"Copperhead Road."  We've never finished a set with this number before. I have to say it was glorious. Loud,boisterous and enthusiastically sung by band and audience alike. John Kearney's shrieks and whoops (some of them choreographed),even aroused Campbell from his slumbers. A good night. A great night.  Some epic performances all round. 

            Seriously-it's Wes Finch next week. No floor spots but still not to be missed. Give it a shot. Photos by Campbell and Jon.

Taking Liberties at Baxterley

        It was going to be a busy week. Nunc had enjoyed that rare thing a rehearsal on the Monday and had managed to squeeze three new songs out of it as well as sharpening up a few older ones from the set list. All this after in a few hours in Weddington. On Thursday we were to be guests at The Tump,in Coventry. So a spot of practice was in order. 

        On Wednesday I honoured a  longstanding invitation to go along and sing a couple of original songs at Atherstone Folk Club. The Guests were Alden Patterson and Dashwood. I'd heard lots about them but hadn't seen them,so here was a gilt edged opportunity to tick a few boxes all round.

         Residents Finger In The Jar started,with four songs including Phil guesting on kazoo in one of them. Clearly,that wasn't going to pass without comment. They seem more accomplished each time I see them.  Their arrangements seem more complex and unique. They clearly work hard on this. They started with McGuinness Flints "When I'm Dead and Gone," which in the context of my weekend might have been a trifle unfortunate,but I'm sure Arnold would have seen the joke in that. 

          Because over the weekend I'd heard of the death of Arnold,a longstanding member of my previous band,Black Parrot Seaside. In 2014 we'd gone our separate ways musically, but there is no doubt we'd worked collaboratively on some of the best of the BPS material. Currently I'm recording an album of my own previously unpublished songs with the help of Malc Gurnham. Several unrecorded BPS titles will be included. So it seemed an ideal opportunity to run three of the best known ones by the audience. 90% of whom had heard them before so I knew the singing would be o.k. if I got stuck!

            Malc Gurnham had agreed to accompany me. He's played bass in BPS at times,and with Mac Awe On Tour too. ( I have the recordings to prove it). Never on lead acoustic though, he assured me. Anyway, we kicked off with "Di Di The Ice Cream Man " and after a few false starts we got it under way with the whole room joining in the choruses. "Albert Balls" followed,and again,the audience knew it, so joined in. And we finished with "Folking Liberty" which will be the title of the album when it's finished. Arnie himself had played that room a few times,in various formats,so it seemed apt we should acknowledge his legacy there. 

              Maybe Arnie and I had not been as close as we should have been over the last few years leading up to his death,but we'd been friends for over fifty years. I still developed a lump in my throat as I sang my way through three songs he had played a great part in firming up and arranging. It was the first singing in public I'd attempted since learning of his death. I think we did him proud. My heart was pounding as I sat down. And yes. There was a glimmer of a tear in my eye. 

             Malc's guitar needed recovery time after that so Dave and Julia Taylor were shunted up the running order.Dave has released more CD's than Johnny Cash over the years,and I've played extracts from many of them on "Anker Folk" shows. So why he chose to include his own parody of Bryan and Michael's songs just after I'd done mine,with all the wealth of other material at his disposal, only he can tell you. It was sandwiched in between two very tastefully arranged ballads,concluding with the lovely song Whippoorwill. Julia takes the lead on these ballads and Dave sings the harmonies. Very nicely done. 

             Malc had soothed his bruised fretboard by then and so he and Gill took over with the minimum of fuss and a lot of heckling,most of it from Gill. Their spot included  the beautiful Kate Wolfe song "Green Eyes" and one from  one of Malc's albums, "I wandered by a Brookside."      

   

               APD  then followed to deliver the first of their two impeccable sets. APD are Christina Alden,Alex Patterson and Noel Dashwood. They live in Norwich. They abbreviate their band  name to APD in their own sleeve notes so they wont mind me doing it. They have been together as a trio since late 2015. I was told they were good,but they were no such thing. They were VERY good. Noel sticks mainly with a Paul Beard resonator steel guitar which he plays lap style. Alex plays mainly an old French fiddle and Christina plays a Gibson acoustic. They all take turns in singing and their harmonies (and arrangements) are sublime. Occasionally they will step down from the mikes and sing a cappella,'front of house.' They have an easy,relaxed style with audiences, whom they like to regularly involve in chorus singing.  

               During the interval the all important raffle took place and then Maria Barham started the Second half. Her voice still holds all its  resonance and her guitar playing is as good as ever. Those few members of the audience who had not seen her before were suitably impressed.

               APD then returned to conclude the evening. Their material is drawn from around the world. They research and re-arrange American British and European songs. They play instrumentals. And they also write their own songs. All three are accomplished singers, which makes their complex harmonies particularly attractive. I heard elements of Fleet Foxes,Phillip Henry and others in their work,but they are unmistakeably a very original APD. 

            All of these wonderful photos are courtesy of John B.Smith. 

             
       

Goodbye Old Horse

            Arnold Chave died at lunchtime on February 15th 2020. I found out via a friend, well over a day later. He was very ill when I went to see him in hospital a few weeks before. In my mind I had made my farewells then.   

         We had been close friends for 59 years,ever since we first met at the same Coventry comprehensive school, Caludon Castle in Wyken. We shared common interests in Pop music, buses, trains and model railways. He only lived a few streets away so it was natural that we should see quite a lot of each other. He always had a great sense of humour. I used to get him into trouble in lessons because (whilst keeping a deadpan expression), I could get him near hysterical by whispering crazy things or shoving obscene caricatures of our teacher,s drawn in my rough book under his nose. Or throwing my voice to make it seem that odd noises were coming from him. Later we shared adult interest in Pythonesque humour, Films, the joy of “live" music, Trade Unions and the pursuit of Real Ale. 

          When I left school I went  on to a College in South London. Arnie worked for a while in the Tax office in Coventry and found romance, but quite quickly afterwards he moved south too. Into a tiny flat in Sternhold Avenue just down the road from me in SW16. In my third year there, along with two other blokes, we shared a flat in Upper Norwood before I married and moved back to Coventry. For a while Arnie lived with his first wife in Brockley. Eventually Arnie himself enrolled at Teacher Training College. Then Coventry College, now The University of Warwick,it was in his home town this time,and he moved back too.

        That was a great time for me. Although I had already started teaching in an Inner City School, through Arnie I met a whole new raft of student friends and the fun began all over again.I played in their football teams, went to their gigs and I drank in their bar.  Arnold even came on teaching practice to my school. I always retained my ability to make him laugh and in one assembly, he famously had to stuff a hankie in his mouth as I gurned impressions of the Head teacher at him, across a hall full of schoolchildren.

        It was about 1974-5 when he and I first started mucking about with songwriting. We began to take it seriously and Black Parrot Seaside was born. We recruited various band members but two of the regulars, Eddie and Mick were also students and would reappear when the band reconstituted in 2006. We stayed in that format until 2014. We made two albums: one in vinyl recorded in London, one on a CD released in 2008. There was lots of our shared love of comedy and Absurdism involved in recording and writing material for both.

       I was best man at his first and third weddings. Our families went on Holidays en famille together.  First in North Wales and then later, abroad to Britanny and the Vendee. Even after our kids grew up and left home, he joined Mags and I on trips to Paris Rome and Barcelona. We had a real laugh. We played subbuteo together, went fishing together and rode steam trains together. 

        We both served as officers on the executive of the local NASUWT. Annually we went away to Conferences, which whilst having their serious moments, always ended up with us crying with laughter and sitting up in a hotel bar until 2am boosing.  

          Eventually we both became Head Teachers. We calmed down a little bit. I saw less of Arnie as he climbed the promotion ladder.  Eventually, besides being a Head, he also became an Adviser. ( That was always going to happen). We both became part of the Governing Body of Plas Dol Y Moch, a beautiful residential Outdoor Education Centre in Snowdonia. We had some great times there, too. Arnie was head of a Special School and I was Head of a Primary School. In an early precursor of Inclusion, we both took parties of kids from both schools there at the same time. Some were anxious about this, but it worked. The kids and staffs picked up on our friendship and fed on it. 

       There were times when Maggie and I didn’t see him for years,and he went through some tough times. When he did he knew there was always a hot meal, a spare bed a shoulder to cry on and a constant supply of his beloved red wine wherever we were living.

              In 2014 he and I fell out big time. Not over politics because we always saw eye to eye on that. Not religion (ditto). It was not over a woman, not over professional beliefs or bringing our kids up wrong. Ironically, it was over music. Arnie stormed out of a particularly acrimonious rehearsal at my house in 2014 vowing to break the group up. He did exactly that and sadly, he never ever came to our house again. 

               Musically we finally went our separate ways. He had one vision and I think I had another. I was without an instrumentalist for the first time in 30 years. I had to adapt to several others or give up completely.   We  found we still had many shared interests though and that shared sense of humour never left us. After a bitter few years when neither of us spoke to each other much at all, we agreed mutually to at least bury the hatchet on social occasions.  It was an armistice, of a kind. 

         Some people who think they knew him weren't aware of his alter egos. Bodo Bisp. Ted Explosion. Derek Gooserun. Throughout almost 60 years of friendship, Arnie and I also had secret pet names for each other. In times of bereavement or loss or just when The Black Dog was in pursuit of one or both of us, we began our correspondence with “Hello Old Horse.”  This was a reference to the film Little Big Man, where Dustin Hoffman played one of two wily centenarians reminiscing back over their years on opposite sides before they became friends.

         Arnie is out of pain now and at peace. I truly regret every moment of ever making him unhappy and making him disappointed in me, but they were far out weighed by half a century of memories and having fun together. I enjoyed every second of that.   Sleep well Old Horse.

We need to talk about Kevin.

       There's a lot of good music coming out of Coventry. Always has been. With 2021 and the  City of Culture approaching, already there is jockeying for position over events to be organised and exactly which local talent needs to be headlined. Those representing other areas of music will have their own specific opinions and agendas. But in terms of sheer musical ability and genius,for me,at the top of the table is Kevin Dempsey. What an ambassador for his home town and for Folk Music that man is. 

         And what a draw he is.  We've been privileged to enjoy Kevin's  work at Nuneaton Folk Club every year since we opened. As usual the hall was full to bursting. Extra chairs had to be requisitioned whilst others simply had to stand. Aaron was kept very busy behind the bar,which was good news for Rich Burlingham who had ordered in yet another Church End beer for the occasion,the excellent Hop Gun. 

              We knew we'd have to put together a quality field of floor spots to hold the interest of the audience while they waited for Kevin's first and second guest spots. Nunc started proceedings right on time thanks to everyone being economic with their soundchecks. No Paul Moore,alas,but we began our first set with "Vigilante Man" and ended it with "Knocking On Heaven's Door."  In between we performed "Landslide," already a staple part of our set list.We haven't had time to rehearse it much so the only opportunity we get to  run through it is in performance. It's the perfect vehicle for Flossy's soaring vocals. I'm so glad I suggested it and persevered with persuading the others to Nunc all over  it. 

             Katherine Fear was up after us. She's been very busy of late,working the Polly Button promotion hard and showcasing what audiences will get to see and hear at The Abbey Theatre in April. (And later on,in the West End run-who knows?). Three songs from her and Sally-Ann Veasey making a welcome return to an NFC stage. it was almost like a Daisybell reunion.  If you have been on Mars and have missed the posters,fliers interviews and feature articles,Katherine has written a folk opera about Polly Button. Real name Mary Green, she was one of Nuneaton's more infamous ex-residents,immortalised in a book by Stephen Moore last year.  

              Brian Phillips followed,another local talent who has gone into print. He told us he had just been issued with an ISBN number. Not so much him as this book what he wrote. Almost certainly containing narratives about Whelks and bodily noises. Once he had conquered a misunderstanding between his guitar and the fans cooling the stage,he gave us a couple of songs,and his thoughts on Donald Campbell and emollients for various disorders of the nether regions. All of it much too rude to be repeated here.  

            But not all the talent on view was local. Steve and Julie Wigley returned to NFC from the depths of darkest Derbyshire. (That's alliterative,you know). Julie's sensitive songs and their well-arranged harmonies lulled the audience into a sense of tranquillity which would be swiftly dispersed by the following act.

           That was John Mosedale,also returning to NFC and also travelling in from a long way away,in this case,Herefordshire. John's opening gambit was "Always putting me foot in it," a song we played on Anker Folk recently. John's cheerful songs with witty lyrics and rumpity-tumpity guitar rhythms are a hallmark of his work and he finished with "We're not Packing Parachutes." But he surprised a few present by sandwiching between these two numbers "Remember Me," a very touching song about encroaching dementia in loved ones and the effect it can have on relatives. 

          So then it was time for Kevin's first,shorter set.  On Wednesday he just seemed better than ever. He had the briefest sound check of any guest we've ever had,then when I introduced him he just came on,picked up his beloved Taylor guitar and coaxed magic from it. He didn't litter a fancy wancy instrument tree with other instruments. He didn't have an array of foot pedals to enhance his sound.He didn't make a big fuss over levels or effects,relying instead on the good sense of the Sound Desk to bring out his gifts to the whole room. Lighting rig wasn't bad,either. 

       I've known Kevin for decades,and whilst his physical appearance has changed (true of many of us!) his character has not. Always friendly, modest and unassuming. His warmth shines out from any stage and it can be felt clearly off stage in ordinary conversation. I've known a few folk divas in my time. ( For the sake of maintaining good relations I won't name any here). But Kev is not made from that mould.  Straight in and right on the money with it all. He appeared to be having a great time. The audience certainly were. 

       In between breathtaking solos and percussive licks using the guitar body as a seventh string,he entertained a larger than average crowd with a bunch of stories, anecdotes and reminiscences. Kev makes you feel as if you're at home with him, sitting round the fire with the family,having pulled up the chair to listen to "Wicked Polly or " Love is Just Around The Corner."

                After the interval, Nunc opened the second half with "Down Where The Drunkards Roll" and then Kevin accepted an invitation to come up and stand in for Paul Moore on "Bring It On Home." Though I say it myself it was a pretty good version. The audience played their part too and because Marie Aucott still isn't there I had to dedicate the verse I usually address to her at Geoff Hardy instead. 

         Kev's second set then concluded the evening.  His repertoire isn't massive. It doesn't need to be. If he finds a song he's comfortable with,then he sticks with it. The embellishments that he adds,the different arrangements,the improvisation, the switch in mood from Jazz to Folk to Funk ,this is what people have come to hear and admire. Not an endless catalogue of "and here's another one what I wrote"  asides. There's no fat in Kev's set lists. The songs come quickly one after another,and so pyrotechnic is his guitar style,so soothing is his voice, there is no time to get bored or distracted. His percussive guitar style shredded one of acrylic nails,but other than that there were no glitches. Not that we could determine anyway although the occasional grimace suggested perhaps a note or two he wasn't happy with. 

         Two encores later it was sadly time to put the houselights on and go home. A very satisfied audience,another memorable night. The feedback I got was that most people there felt privileged to have been part of it. Photos here were provided by Paul Monks,Steve Bentley,Ray Buckler and Max Wright.