Hark! 'Tis the First call of The Crested Gloater

      The Running Gag about me not getting an invite to Warwick Folk Festival is an annual tradition, an irritation as time-honoured as the Wroth Silver ceremony or Maundy Thursday. People look out for it, like they wait (alas in vain nowadays) for the first cuckoo. I like to time it with the first breathless Braggadocio of those honoured enough and in vogue enough to get on the guest list. They could of course, just go along and enjoy the experience themselves, but no, they have to rub it in. So, call me an Imp and a Court Jester, I like to puncture their bladder on a stick occasionally. Once it's out in the open, I'm told Dick Dixon can then sigh contentedly and sleep sounder at night. (I don't believe a word of it!)   

       Long ago, I used to apply, but I understand all the protocols now, and I no longer bother.I don't blame Dick and his chums at all for being selective-it's their bloody festival and they can do what they like with it. 
   

             "Buy a ticket" someone advises, as a surefire way of getting in. Erm,no. I happen to think that attaching a big price tag to an event is not always an automatic guarantee  of a high quality experience. No disrespect, but having  looked at the 2016 WFF running order so far, there  is nothing advertised which is of interest to  me as an audience  member, so why should I? I get a far bigger buzz out of watching (and playing with) artistes at grassroots  level than I do whacking out dosh to worship someone “In Concert."  Having said that, the "vibe" I have experienced in fringe events or just mooching round the town that weekend is undeniably infectious and attractive. 

  "It's not for local performers."

              After (139?) years, well, quite!  Most of us get that! You would have to be pretty stupid not to understand this, but even so, in our part of Warwickshire, I happen to think that there are as many talented performers as in any other region of Britain.
        There are those who would make the accusation that some festivals are just a MateFest: run by and dominated by the individual egos of their organisers or committees, rather than for the Common Good.   Having been  abused by a tiny minority for exercising (what they saw) as the same kind of monopoly at Nuneaton Folk Club, I have some empathy with that.       

        Since we started up In October 2014, we have showcased 62 different acts, 90% of whom have been local, We have also been fortunate enough to have offered our viewing, listening and participating public, all for free, artistes of National status as well as local heroes.  Kim Lowings, (twice) Sean Cannon (twice) Kevin Dempsey, Scarecrow, Phil Hare and Winter Wilson,for example.  Yet for some-this is still not enough.Those who have not quite yet made the luxury hospitality of The Crown's "Green Room, " can still get very bitter about  it. 

     You can have as good a night at Bedworth, Atherstone or Nuneaton Folk Clubs (and elsewhere) for free, as you can anywhere else. This is an ongoing folk festival in itself-a  feast-in the truest sense, rather than a one off . And, (although clearly I am biased) if you are going to pay, then you won't find anywhere, a more homely, V.F.M. fun, grass roots, "proper Folk " Folk festival than Bedworth's three day  bash in November Plus-if you  get wet, you've been very unlucky. 

     So it's over now. From hereon in I tend to block all the Gloaters on Facebook, (a) because their smugness riles me and (b)it can make more important or interesting messages very difficult to find. 

    Hope that's cleared that up for everyone? 

Folk On Tap

    With Sly Old Dogs moving their latest Craic Base even nearer to my home, (just eight fields away, on a moonlit night), it would have been foolish (and churlish) of me not to have gone along to support their debut at my local, Wood Farm Brewery Tap, last night.

     Sited aptly, (for the jokes last night were a load of old Cock) at Willey, (the most regularly stolen village sign in Warwickshire)  the Wood Farm is already well known to many of us. Mainly for its pleasant Webb Ellis bitter,  its Pork Pies, beer Festivals and its sausage and onion batches.  

      I wondered though, as The Kearney Mobile whizzed us along Coalpit Lane, if the Wood Farm owners really knew what was about to hit them. For, last month, SODSAF had relocated temporarily to The Denbigh Arms in Monks Kirby, following the retirement of their best ever Spoons Player, Paco.  It was quite touching in there, watching the gaffer, Seb,bravely attempting single-handedly to staunch the thirst of dozens and dozens of Folkies. The place was heaving last month. The Tap was heaving last night. Quite a contrast to those Sunday nights when I have driven past at 8pm with the doors locked, rollers down and their lights off. I suspect a few of those at the bar last night had set out for The Sarah Mansfield or The Blue Pig. They must have thought all their Christmases had come at once!

         Fortunately, up the hill from the Denbigh, they had enough staff on to cope. They looked a little tired when we arrived, as Wood Farm is Rugby themed and I think the Egg Chasers might have given them a busy weekend already. Unusually, several pump clips were turned round, but there was still something there for everyone. 

       The Car Park filled, the main room filled-the gallery above filled.It was a good turn out, on a par with some of the best Sundays in The Bell. The SODs were light on fiddles, with Nigel Ward and Martin Bushnell the only absentees from the regular line-up. As for the Friends, there was yours truly, Max Wright, John Kearney, Cheryl,  Rob Halligan, Campbell and Jan and many more whom I recognised but could not immediately put a name to. SODs sessions are very informal, and guests rarely go beyond first names.

       The room proved to be good for acoustics, as the SODs treated us to many of their usual repertoire, Either playing collectively, as the ensemble, or featuring solo numbers from Bob Brooker,Paul Kenny,Pete Willow, Colin Squire or Richard Ryder. The Friends took it in turns, and a large audience returned choruses with panache and great enthusiasm.  There were music stands, scoresheets, instrument cases,iPads galore. And that was just amongst the audience. 

     At one stage, a tremendously pungent  cloud of malty aroma filled the room, and everyone looked accusingly at Bob Brooker, until they realised-this is a Brewery.  Those of us who use the place often knew that they were just venting their latest batch of Whatever,to  be dispensed, via their hand pulls next week.

      With Steve Smelt and Martin Gilder heckling from upstairs,Babs from Hinckley Act dropping in, and a big Cov. contingent, there was an almost International feel in the room. What with  Paul Kenny forgetting his words, Bob "mentioning" his CD's and Tool telling jokes of Industrial mediocrity, it was as if we'd never been away. 

    A spontaneous collection for the Bill Bates Fund reached £260 easily. Bill is well known to many of us, and respected by all on the Folk Circuit. A series of Fund Raisers around the Midlands will be going towards helping his son fight a pernicious strain of cancer. 

Getting stuffed at NFC

    Some familiar audience faces were missing last night. ( the register was taken-without an explanatory note you will be receiving a letter!)-but still a decent crowd again. This time to watch Scarecrow, return to The Crown to do us two classic sets. Entertainment typical of the boys-competent, professional, well arranged, superbly played and most enjoyable. Plus half a dozen other complimentary adjectives you could add.

Duelling flutes from Scarecrow

   Last night saw more debuts-four  planned and one spontaneous. Taking the number of guests who have trodden that stage since we opened to 61.One debut was behind the mixing desk-young Matt Mallen Allen taking over the helm from Tom Veasey, now swanning around in the Caribbean. Good job, Matt! 

    Nunc kicked the music off followed by Peter McParland. Andy Jones then made his debut, and roped in another debutante from the audience-Rob Oakey from Sty Folk Club, Coventry. (I don't think Rob calls it that any more-but they are still going!). Rob was encouraged to pump a musical instrument I could not identify, to supply a background drone so that Andy could sing a rather mystical Eastern mantra to it. Rob did that well, because it was only one note he had to sustain and he's very good at droning. Typically of Andy, who always likes a challenge, he followed that up with a full version of "The Barley Mow"-delivered impeccably whilst the rest of us stuttered and stammered our way through each ever-expanding chorus. 

Andy Jones and Rob Oakey-NFC virgins

    Then up nipped David Parr, making a welcome return, He had brought along some guests  and so was on his best behaviour, declining to do any numbers from his project album "Songs of Sex and Death." We had a gospel song instead. ( You're not fooling anyone Dave!).  Bob Brooker, newly thrilled by his allotted solo spot at Bedworth Folk Festival, treated us to a couple songs of impeccable quality. 

   John Kearney did a Lemmy Tribute with a hugely interesting version of the Motorhead song "1916" before Brian Phillips dropped a few more jaws with some subtle axework.

JK does a Lemmy tribute.

 Then it was time for another debut. Driftwood, all the way from Southampton. Three excellent numbers:two self penned and a lush arrangement of "Woodstock." Chris and Brian were presented with an anthology of the Bridget Jones novels, to commemorate us bridging the 60 mark. They seemed suitably nonplussed and even went on to win a Chocolate Chess set which looked familiar. What a night eh, gang? 

Driftwood-all the way from Southampton

       This led us directly into Scarecrow's first set, opening as they often do with their rumbustuous interpretation of "Gallows Pole" . Oxfordshire's finest then romped through a delightful 30 minutes or so, before Matt and the audience were briefly given time to catch their breath and calm down.

       Nunc returned for a couple more songs before Malc Gurnham and Gill Gilsenan warmed up the audience for Scarecrows return. Another absorbing 40 minutes followed, including another personal favourite of mine, "Up To The Rigs," which is actually, imho better than Bellowhead's- despite involving eight less musicians. 

FINALLY

   On the NFC Facebook page a couple of weeks ago I was the subject of a rather petty personal attack because I removed from the Group Page, a poster, added without consent, promoting an event elsewhere.  ( I think people sometimes confuse a Group Page with a Chat Room or a Forum). Our FB page exists only to promote Nuneaton Folk Club. Removing such posters is also the policy of Folk 21 ,Bedworth and Atherstone Folk Clubs, and a good few more that I know of. Their organisers have not been subject to such remarks,however. Anyway: Group members were told that I did nothing to promote and encourage  Folk music in and beyond the Nuneaton area. Some people objected to that remark and asked me to delete it. 

   I hope that all those attending last night noticed the fliers  for other events out on all our (many) tables and on the walls. Including those from Bedworth, Atherstone, Warwick and Rowington Folk Clubs. And including those publicising an upcoming event at Ansley featuring and Maddy prior's upcoming appearance at The Abbey Theatre. You can find further details of both events on the NFC website, If that's not promoting others as well as ourselves-I give up. 

Eating for Victory-Folk in The Larder

   The first Wednesdays of the month have become busy days for me . Evenings are hectic at Nuneaton Folk Club, where organising, compering and hosting the Residency with Nunc eats up time and means I'm on my feet and hyperactive for at least six hours. So beforehand, although also a musical activity, the afternoon Cafe Cabaret sessions at The Larder in Atherstone are very much more relaxed and informal. It's a bit of a rush driving home from there, and then back into Nunny, but worthwhile

    I cannot think of any more vivid contrast, in Folk and Acoustic terms, than experiencing these two sessions inside ten hours. Maybe other venues like The Larder exist-a Military themed cafe where singers stroll amongst the diners and open and close the door for those entering or leaving. But if they do, then I've not experienced them. ( Yet-The Larder's sister cafe in Ashby has begun experimenting with them, too!) So all credit to Phil Benson for innovating these friendly gatherings, which have been going on for several years now.

    Yesterday for example, saw the usual broad range of material to enjoy with your teacakes, Bubble and Squeak and sausage butties. A few regulars were missing. Anne and Steve Beeson, jollying around the world: Malc and Gill wrangling elsewhere over new arrangements and new songs. But as well as other old faces assembled, newer ones continue to surprise and entertain.

    Julia and Dave Taylor and Elaine and John Meechan are two very different duos, but are often found there on First Wednesdays. John and Elaine swap the instrumentation round and combine jolly, earthy folk with a broad range of regional variations which are sometimes harder hitting. Dave and Julia combine fine singing and tasteful arrangements. They often chuck in parody or comedy too, for Dave in particular, is a master in writing a funny song, but they were reflective and a little more serious yesterday. Indeed, we had three lovely songs from bothduos.

     Andy Jones I've only got to know about recently. He's a deep character,with a distinctive voice, and he too really thinks about his material and arrangements. We had an unaccompanied ecclesiastical piece from him for starters, and that poised a few cups of coffee mid-air, I can tell you. Blimey!

     Mick Stanley (of Comharsa) and Peter McParland have become Larder regulars, and their contributions were also highly enjoyable. By way of a change yesterday Mick sang an English song whilst I did an Irish one.( I knew he could do it!) I offered The Oul Triangle and The Odeon before making a complete mess of “Lakes of Ponchartrain.”-a song I have recalled from memory in public many times without a safety net. Yesterday afternoon, having dedicated it to the late Gren Morris, that first verse just went completely awol. I was still thinking about Gren and his unique rendition of that fine song, so after the March morning, New Orleans and Jackson Town and the rest of it emptied itself from my head. I recovered sufficiently to reclaim the remaining verses and to pay homage to Gren-but Paul Brady would have sat with his head in his hands throughout.

    And then there was Dylan. No, not that one, another one. From Atherstone. Having borrowed Pete's guitar strap, he did a version of “House of The Rising Sun” which was both innovative and funny. Involving the audience in a new version of “call and response” singing. Later he followed with a Marc Bolan song, tastefully delivered. Top stuff-and typical of the range you can find nowadays at a Larder session. 

Aux Armes. mes amis

    Opposite the floodlit (and very beautiful ) 'Warwickshire Cathedral ' (aka St Edith's priory church) in Monks Kirby, Warwickshire,last night, the mourners gathered. Just a brief walk up the road from the now lost to history Bell Inn, The Sly Old Dogs and Friends had assembled. They mobbed up in large numbers in a temporary venue, The Denbigh Arms. To celebrate, as they have done for many years, the last Sunday in the calendar month, by playing good, loud acoustic music, and singing a lot of songs.

   In that beautiful church, in 1878, if my Great Grandfather,William had not married Maria Whitmore, I would not be around to write this now. Generations of my paternal ancestors have lived, courted, married,raised families and been  buried in this part of Warwickshire over the last 400 years.  I've also played the room upstairs at The Denbigh before, so I've always felt an affinity with the village.

     Unfortunately, we were not based upstairs this time, but crammed into the busy downstairs area of the pub.However, it turned out to be a classic night. We were made very welcome. and it transpired that the landlord and I also shared a family connection. The Denbigh looked in fine fettle, and had ample reserves of stock from an excellent local brewery Dow Bridge. As the numbers rose, so did the temperature-when you came in from outside you could apparently feel a wave of warmth, much of which was human-generated by those inside.

      What has always been a powerful singing audience were dispersed about the nooks and alcoves of this fine old pub, but it did not dissipate the volume or the enthusiasm of the chorus singing one iota. From around columns and pillars their voices floated, to swell those of the audience gathered in front of the musicians.  

    The SODS pack were assembled in full strength.  Stalwarts Pete Willow, Nigel Ward John McIintosh,Paul Kenny, Richard Ryder and Bob Brooker were joined by Colin Squire and Martyn Bushnell to form "The Orchestra." Added to The Company, and doing the occasional song  were John Kearney, Max Wright, myself, Rob Halligan, Campbell and Lyn Perry and  a gentleman who sang a nostalgic song about the metal presses at Standard Triumph. 

    The songs poured forth in the standard 'night of three halves' format. Old favourites like Rose Of Allandale, Whisky in The Jar, Willie McBride: The Irish Rover, Dicey  Reilly/ I'll Tell Me Ma ,The Hot Ashphalt  and Gypsy Laddie O. A roar of approval greeted that last one, as now-retired gaffer of The Bell, Paco, emerged from behind a corner to play his inimitable spoons. Max Wright treated us to a fine version of "Putting On The Agony," John Kearney delivered a well-received version of " Times They Are A Changin'." I did " Black Velvet Band " and one of my own- "Down Our Street,"-widely known as "The Di- Di Song." Both were (flatteringly!) requests,and it was pleasing to hear the choruses rocking the rafters.   

       And so now the hunt for a new venue goes on. Somewhere in East Warwickshire there must be an enterprising landlord who has a big function room doing nothing,who would like to quadruple his takings on the last Sunday of each month?