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Hartlepool Sunday
Oct. 17th, 2023 09:13 pmOn Sunday morning I was not at all confident that my back would stand for another day of festival. We agreed to treat it gently and see how we got on, and - spoiler! - this worked. We didn't even try to go to any morning events: after breakfast I had a lie down, and we headed for the Headland just in time to grab one of the chairs-with-back-support for Sweet Thames.
I've been thinking of this as another talk, but actually it's a performance piece, a one-man play in which Ewan Wardrop talks about the folk clubs of London in the 1960s, using verbatim the words collected in an oral history exercise (website here, and in fact there's a video of the whole show, at Cecil Sharp House). We were delighted that the story begins at Unity Theatre - though it doesn't actually mention Unity Folk Club. I am, in other word, the demographic who will like this show, and I did. I would have liked to look at the accompanying exhibition, but we didn't have time before the performance, and by the time we had a break between events it had been cleared away.
The afternoon's concert was a tribute to Tony Rose. I didnm't recognise the name, but it seems he was a singer of (mostly) traditional songs, who died in 2002: I don't know why they had chosen to remember him at this point, but all the participants spoke of him with great affection, so what more reason do you need? Paradoxically, for a concert built around someone whose material was primarily traditional, although I remember some fine tradional songs, what really stood out for me were the non-traditional elements. John Kirkpatrick contributed an unforgettable Nelly the Elephant, Martin Simpson revisited his version of Boots of Spanish Leather (hooray!) and the entire ensemble (including the Melsons, that wall of sound that results when you bring together the Wilsons and the Melrose Quartet) closed the proceedings with a rousing Down Where the Drunkards Roll.
By now it was mid-afternoon, tea time, and we went out in search of lunch. Feeling adventurous, we bought parmos from the Parm-O-Rama van and let the music from the outdoor stage wash over us - until we were jolted to attention by Ken Wilson and Jim McFarland singing The Trimdon Grange Explosion.
We didn't really notice Helian, but Will Pound and Jenn Butterworth were enough fun that - after a break in the bar, with comfortable seats and the crossword - we went back into the hall to hear them again. Outside it was dark, and it was rainy, and we weren't tempted out of the bar to see the procession set off, even though this had been one of last year's highlights. Not necessarily the highlight of the set, but certainly the bit that got the most applause, was Jenn Butterworth's very lively guitar string break (it drew blood) and then virtuoso replacement, while Will Pound continued his harmonica accompaniment, and eventually wrangled a melodeon into play one-handed. They also - since the theme of this post appears to be Not the Traditional Folk Repertoire - played a fine Arrival of the Queen of Sheba (follow the link above to find it on Bandcamp).
Talking of repertoire, I didn't know what to expect from the next set, from Martin Simpson: it was almost two years since the last time we saw him, and he's been involved in various projects since then. No sign of the Magpie Arc in this set: more than half, I think, his own compositions. Woody Guthrie's Deportees seems to have joined Palaces of Gold as a regular and angry commentary; from Nothing but Green Willow the song he sang on the album, Waggoner's Lad (very close to the Peggy Seeger version I grew up with); his closing number was John Prine's Angel from Montgomery, a choice you can file under I Do Not Understand This Man's Repertoire (nothing wrong with it, but not the strongest song in the set).
Contrast the Wilsons, who (as festival patrons) had the closing set: they were joined by James Fagan and Richard Arrowsmith (making them, they explained, a half-Melson), plus someone whose name I didn't get, and finally by Martin Simpson for the full male voice choir. Their finale was a powerful Miner's Lifeguard - what else? After that, we could have gone to the Fisherman's Arms, for the singaround, but we didn't. We came home to bed. Maybe next year ...
I've been thinking of this as another talk, but actually it's a performance piece, a one-man play in which Ewan Wardrop talks about the folk clubs of London in the 1960s, using verbatim the words collected in an oral history exercise (website here, and in fact there's a video of the whole show, at Cecil Sharp House). We were delighted that the story begins at Unity Theatre - though it doesn't actually mention Unity Folk Club. I am, in other word, the demographic who will like this show, and I did. I would have liked to look at the accompanying exhibition, but we didn't have time before the performance, and by the time we had a break between events it had been cleared away.
The afternoon's concert was a tribute to Tony Rose. I didnm't recognise the name, but it seems he was a singer of (mostly) traditional songs, who died in 2002: I don't know why they had chosen to remember him at this point, but all the participants spoke of him with great affection, so what more reason do you need? Paradoxically, for a concert built around someone whose material was primarily traditional, although I remember some fine tradional songs, what really stood out for me were the non-traditional elements. John Kirkpatrick contributed an unforgettable Nelly the Elephant, Martin Simpson revisited his version of Boots of Spanish Leather (hooray!) and the entire ensemble (including the Melsons, that wall of sound that results when you bring together the Wilsons and the Melrose Quartet) closed the proceedings with a rousing Down Where the Drunkards Roll.
By now it was mid-afternoon, tea time, and we went out in search of lunch. Feeling adventurous, we bought parmos from the Parm-O-Rama van and let the music from the outdoor stage wash over us - until we were jolted to attention by Ken Wilson and Jim McFarland singing The Trimdon Grange Explosion.
We didn't really notice Helian, but Will Pound and Jenn Butterworth were enough fun that - after a break in the bar, with comfortable seats and the crossword - we went back into the hall to hear them again. Outside it was dark, and it was rainy, and we weren't tempted out of the bar to see the procession set off, even though this had been one of last year's highlights. Not necessarily the highlight of the set, but certainly the bit that got the most applause, was Jenn Butterworth's very lively guitar string break (it drew blood) and then virtuoso replacement, while Will Pound continued his harmonica accompaniment, and eventually wrangled a melodeon into play one-handed. They also - since the theme of this post appears to be Not the Traditional Folk Repertoire - played a fine Arrival of the Queen of Sheba (follow the link above to find it on Bandcamp).
Talking of repertoire, I didn't know what to expect from the next set, from Martin Simpson: it was almost two years since the last time we saw him, and he's been involved in various projects since then. No sign of the Magpie Arc in this set: more than half, I think, his own compositions. Woody Guthrie's Deportees seems to have joined Palaces of Gold as a regular and angry commentary; from Nothing but Green Willow the song he sang on the album, Waggoner's Lad (very close to the Peggy Seeger version I grew up with); his closing number was John Prine's Angel from Montgomery, a choice you can file under I Do Not Understand This Man's Repertoire (nothing wrong with it, but not the strongest song in the set).
Contrast the Wilsons, who (as festival patrons) had the closing set: they were joined by James Fagan and Richard Arrowsmith (making them, they explained, a half-Melson), plus someone whose name I didn't get, and finally by Martin Simpson for the full male voice choir. Their finale was a powerful Miner's Lifeguard - what else? After that, we could have gone to the Fisherman's Arms, for the singaround, but we didn't. We came home to bed. Maybe next year ...
