shewhomust | Hartlepool Friday

The Hartlepool Folk Festival runs for a three day weekend, starting at midday on Friday: but we had things to do, and didn't arrive until mid-afternoon. So we started our festival with a movie, Ken Loach's The Old Oak, screening in St Hilda's church, in the presence of screenwriter Paul Laverty, and of the banner featuring the oak tree which appears in the film (and in the poster). Its heart is absolutely in the right place, and it has some great scenes, but the narrative is at times predictable and the emotional passages aren't always earned. I very much liked the way in which one of the refugees, a young Syrian woman, uses photography to process her experiences, and responds to a set of photographs of the village taken a generation ago during the miners strike; I thought more use could have been made of this. Oh, well...

This gave us a short break before the three sets which made up the evening's concert: enough time to buy a drink, eat our sandwiches, enjoy the music - yes, the random stuff that was playing in between acts, and which so often seems badly chosen (either something not unlike the main performer, but not as good; or of course, something completely unlike the main performer, and why would anyone who had come to hear them want to listen to this stuff?). On this occasion we had a selection of American folk revival of the 60s and 70s, plenty of old friends and one or two Phil Ochs tracks, which made me very happy.

Our first concert set was O'Hooley and Tidow, and introduced us to the festival's most annoying instrument, a foot-operated percussion mat which adds a booming bass to whatever else you are doing. I thought of

boybear explaining why the ceilidh band in which he played didn't have a drummer: "You don't need a drummer if you've got me on bass." I didn't think that this infernal device added anything to the music, on this first appearance or throughout the weekend.

That apart, I enjoyed O'Hooley and Tidow more than I expected. I'd heard odd songs from them, which I had thought pleasant but a bit dull. Gentleman Jack is catchy enough (and I was interested that the song came before the television drama); but I liked 'Chimneys, Moors and Me, their anthem for the south Pennines.. And how can you not love a song called "Beryl"?

Watch on YouTube

Next up, John Kirkpatrick: always entertaining, but I was so surprised by his revelation that Papa Stour has a sword dance (it must be true, it's in Walter Scott) that I don't remember anything else. Finally, Spiers and Boden and many, many melodeons - and then home to bed.