Sidmouth Folk Diary: Wednesday

 # MC signals to Rory McCloud that he has ten minutes left. Rory begins to chat about which song he will sing, which song he would have song, who this song is about, what someone once said to him about the person who the song is about. MC signals that he now has five minutes left. 

# If you’ve never heard Rory, look him up. He’s been described as a folkie Ian Dury. There is a rappish digressiveness to his songs, wild free association about people he’s kissed and fruit at Spitlefield market. An utter one off. 

# The final Oysterband gig was of course wonderful. But even better was the “pearls from the oysters” session in the morning, in which story teller Taffy Thomas told anecdotes about the band’s history, while the Oysters themselves chipped in songs. For all the eighties rock stylings, they are still very much a folk band. Hearing Hal En Tow Jolly Rumberlow acoustically in an intimate setting may be the highlight of the  festival so far. 

# Rosie Hood opened for the Oysters in the big tent. I will be singing the song about the ladies of Versailles who persisted for the rest of the weekend, and Roy Bailey’s “everything possible” never fails to evoke a tear. Her own song writing is exceptional: the one about the Norman monk who flew (or at any rate, plummeted) from the monastery clock tower I have heard before, but the one about the Victorian lady who was mauled to death by a circus tiger she had poked, told from the tigers point of view, was new to me.

# Rory’s set was followed by Robb Johnson, who plunged straight in with a song about racism (“the tories outlawed Robin Hood, cut down the hundred acre wood, but blame  it on the refugees) and a presumably week-old song in which a woman in the Blitz wonders which city the Nazis and going to bomb tonight, while a contemporary person wonders which city the far-right are going to riot in. He finished with Be Reasonable And Demand The Impossible Now. The MC described him as the best political song writer  who is also a primary school teacher. I expect the revolution to start any day now.

#Two talks about folk music and Child Ballads by Brian Peters

#Rory turned up to the campfire session on the top of the hill at midnight. He did three songs, joined the tune players on a plastic orange trombone, and listened to all the other singers. The lady who gestilicuates a complicated pagan reimagining of the Twa Magicians. The man who sings funny songs about people in his morris dance group that no one could possible know. The couple singing banjo accompanied songs in possibly Welsh. The big guy in the black hat who sings out of key sea shanties. It is even possible that he assayed The Day The Nazi Died.

Beer 3.5

Pasties 1

Lofty Talls Ships 2

Lakes of Cool Flynn (or somewhere else where there is deep and false water) 2

Didn’t We Have A Lovely Time The Day We Went to Bagor - Very definitely none at all

Total Hours 8 hours

Sidmouth Folk Diary: Tuesday

 

#not all geography teachers

#Nothing particularly against hymns in general, or And Can It Be in particular. You can sing it at my funeral if you like (not any time soon). Visions of heaven sustained us when John Wesley gave us a voice. Merely felt that the church choir on the sea front was a bit cringe.

Writing this at 10ish with coffee and bacon sandwich. Much more civilised than yesterday. Having stopped singing at 2am I naturally decided I needed to be in he art centre at 9:30 , this left no time for shower or coffee although the sea front bakery supplied the largest bacon bap I have ever seen. “Too much bacon” is a concept I was not previously acquainted with.

NO PASTIE all day. Consumed a large persian chicken wrap with salad flaffles,, humus, olives, peter gurney, petr davey, daniel whiddon old uncle tom cobley and all.

Early rise was to see a filmed archive folk club performance by Chris Sugden, aka Sid Kipper. Furiously wrote down some titles an lyrics that I might sing myself one day. The Female Highwayman might have too much cross dressing for modern tastes, but I feel I could attempt “wild mounting time”. Lady who runs ballad session mentioned that she knew Sidney Carter, and played him “I am bored of the dance, said she”. Apparently he was amused.

Thence to Big Tent for Phil Beer and his former musical partner Paul Downes, and then the Spooky Men. I felt the Spookies did a slightly less silly set than usual, which was to their general benefit. A patriotic Ukrainian song, jostled with a new one (to me) about the guy who can’t fix things but sill “just give it ago.” Eschewed Ralph McTell for the “traditional night out” a kind of all star folk club in the arts centre, including Martin Carthy, Tom McCarthy and Jez Lowe. Martin did the one about the Irishman who goes to a funeral snd finds that the fellow hasn’t died. Jez Lowe did one about the miners who worked through the ‘82 strike called The Judas Bus, interleaved with verses of the Blackleg Miner. A man I didn’t know sang a killingly funny song about Greek philosophers. An Irish man told a story about a family who moved to England and took their faithful house gobln with them. 

In tent close to midnight and will be firing on more cylinders today..

Hours of music: 8.25 hours
Beer 2
Pasties 0

Folk Diary Monday

If you tie a green ribbon around your hat you signify that your true love has gone away. If you wear a yellow handkerchief it means your are going to shun flash company. If you tie a bunch of white or possibly blue ribbons all around your bonny boy’s waist it will let tone maidens know that he’s married. Was this some kind of olden days emoji system? I think we should be told.

I believe it was Mark Twain who said that if you tell a man that the are a hundred billion stars in the galaxy he will believe you, but if a public toilet shows “engaged” (“occupied”) he will turn the handle just to make sure.

Some very polite children from the international language school have photographed my hat as part of a scavenger hunt.

Adopting my usual plan of eschewing the camp showers and putting a pound in the box by the rugby club. If a geography teacher would care to come and shout at us, we would have the full 1970s school experience.

Choir from local church singing And Can It Be on the sea front. Wild urge to join in with Joe Hill style communist lyrics. (If it had been a socialist group, would certainly have sung a hymn.)

 I do not think that a diet of beer and pasties is sustainable in the long term. Or even the short ter

 Patronisingly ask small child if they are a fan of Irish Music. Told no, but they are a fan of Mad Dog McCrae. Their favourite songs are Beeswing and Johnny No Legs (which turns out to be a speeded up Mrs McGraw/My Son John.)

 I remember when Mad Dog McCrae played after parties at Trowbridge and pop up gigs at Glastonbury. They are now mighty and legendary. They have undergone a reverse evolution, less punky and more folkie. I am not sure you are allowed to use the word “pikey” in a song, even if he did kill your goldfish, with a fag.

I definitely didn’t have something in my eye during Beeswing and actually sob during Gay Pirates (yo ho sebastian, let’s go far away, somewhere where the captain won’t be mad.)

Definitely the right call to hear the loud party band at the Bulverton and eschew Spiers and Boden at the Ham, (who are iconic, but whom I have heard many times before.) Which suggests that buying the Season Ticket (everything but the headline gigs) rather than the All In Ticket (everything including the headline gigs) was the right call

I am not a gate keeper, but I am far from sure that a funk band becomes a folk funk bad just because it has an accordion in it.

I Am not very good at dancing about architecture. Elye Cuthbertson is apparently winning awards for being most promising musician in any genre. He plays long complex tunes on the accordion: saw him comparing notes with Cohen Braithwaite-Kilcoyne. My notes say things like “zig zag shaped phrases cut off from above”. This may not help anyone very much.

The Wilson Family sang loud unaccompanied harmony music, in the vicinity of Rolling Home and Union Miner Stand Together. Exceptionally good.

The Guide Hut was full for John Kirkpatrick. (I didn’t get in.)

 Ended night in campfire marquee again. Joined by entirety of steampunk morris side who know hundred of songs. Lady with brilliant voice sang a complex pagan inspired version of possibly Twa Magicians. I sang the dirtiest version of Landlords Fill the Flowing Bowl I known. Tom Pearse has sadly to be abandoned because this Devonian crowd didn’t know the chorus.

 It rained. 

On Wednesday there is a three way clash between Robb Johnson, the Oysterband and Granny’s Attic

Pasties -1

Bacon roll -1

Beeswing -1

My Bonny Boy is Young But He’s Growing -2

Songs by Leo Rossleson - 2

Total time listening to music -6.5

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