A week is a long time in folk…

This blog amuses me. It’s fun to pull it together. To say it is written, is to insult anyone who can actually write. What I do is to writing, is what Rembrandt was to creosoting the fence[1], but it is fun. So last Sunday we watched in slack jawed stupefaction as the blog figures notched up well over 1000 views. Many of them will be of the Wrinkly Wroadies most excellent pictorial contributions, but presumably somebody read the words.

And if you did; thank you.

Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…

There are artists that take forever.
Writing, planning, testing, twiddling and generally taking time.
Usually, to be fair, that would be us.

But not this time, no sir-ee.

We are pleased to announce on the pages of this week’s tome for the terrified toper that a new FG-CD is now available.

Entitled ‘The Fuse Tapes’, this is a set of live duo recordings made at The Fuse Media Centre in Prudhoe, originally intended for (and indeed used by) Radio Prudhoe. We were so pleased with the results, that we decided that the recordings made a great literal ‘record’ of what we might sound like live as a duo, without any of the additions or embellishments we can add in the studio.

So there it is; ‘The Fuse Tapes’.

We must add huge “thank you” noises, aimed, primed and generally hurled in the direction of Joe Pattinson, engineer, producer and all round jolly good egg, who flew the mixing desk and managed to capture an excellent sound for us.

The CD, all nine tracks of FG loveliness, will be available from all the usual outlets (that means us and the Wrinkly Wroadies).

How much it costs depends largely on how affluent you look. If you rock up in a Roller, complete with cravat and Bollinger, a decorative doxy draped upon your arm (you’ll get mugged at some of our venues for a start), the CD will cost a princely sum. If however, you turn up in a Little Waster outfit, smelling faintly of carbolic and cheap gin, we will take pity on you and mug you ourselves[2].

Can’t say fairer than that.

So to the week then.

On Thursday we dropped in to see Acoustic Chums Trev and Renata do a spot at Lola Jeans Bar in Tynemouth.  Very trendy, with acoustics to die for.

Sorry, that should read ‘acoustics that will kill you’. My mistake.

Trev and Renata did a smashing set and worked hard in a room where the culture is to use the music as sonic wallpaper, rather than as a primary focus (which is perfectly fair enough) and they were rewarded with a pleasing reaction from All and Sundry.

All and Sundry have had their Undertaker’s business in Tynemouth for years. Nice blokes, I went to school with Pete All’s brother[3].

Basically, well done Trev and Renata. The pics come from Carol’s phone and she was probably drunk too.

It isn’t often that the Bank Manager says, ‘why don’t you play at <insert venue here[4]>’. But he did, so we did, and he came along, and it was great.

And it happened like this.

Our BM, Greg, all round nice bloke, has a son what does an acoustic night in Morpeth. Knowing that we are keen on such things, he suggested that we drop down as it is apparently a jolly eve of fun and acoustic frolics. So, Friday and we in haste for Morpeth. The Riverside is a curiously shaped pub. Lots of crannies and the odd nook. The Open Mic was set up in a corner with a large and to be fair, loud, PA against one wall. Start time was about 9.15 it was well run by the personable Rich. There was a variety of local, mostly young, performers who did perfectly well. We did a good half hour set, then retired home, while me lugs was still attached.

Saturday was of course our big experiment at Alington House in Durham, with support from the esteemed Mr Chris Kelly. Was it a success?

Well, yes.

We had a great time, Chris was fabbo as ever, he delivered a silk smooth set of covers and wonderful originals. Why the man is not a star (after us, obviously) is a mystery. We played well, the trio kicking some serious bottom. The sound in the room was very good, as a venue, the room was fine. The fact that when we arrived it was locked up and we had a half hour wait… yadda yadda…

The pics show that is was good, they don’t quite show that it sounded good, but it did.

Audience?
Yup there were people there, not as many as you’d want (we have played to less, believe me) but in the end, curiously, more or less break even again. CD’s sold, nice words, so.. I suppose, yes, it was  a success; certainly we felt we played well. Have a listen to the photo’s; see what you think. Photos are again courtesy of the Wrinkly Wroadies, like them on Facebook. Seriously.

I’m pleased to announce another FG gig, this time a very intimate performance in an Art Gallery near York. Friday Aug 9th will see FG, more than likely in Acoustic Duo formation, flying low over Boo Gallery in Copmanthorpe, Yorkshire. We are looking forward to doing an all acoustic show for a maximum audience of 25 for the princely sum of £5. Gallery owner and promoter Sandra promises a grand night in unusual and contemporary surroundings. Frankly, we can’t wait. Find out more here.

Someone pulled me up at a club t’other week.

“ ‘ere”, he said, a glazed look to the eye and a faint whiff of something unpleasant from the pocket of his long johns. I think it was a pocket.

“ ‘ere, This King’s Head and Washerwoman’s Leg’s Folk Club…”

“Yes?” I said. But I said it politely.

“It don’t exist” he spat, with some vehemence, but little actual conviction.

I reassured him, with the aid of a rounders bat and a few nails, but in case anyone else is any doubt, last week there were only two regulars there, the Chairman and a guy who is going for his mouth organ HGV licence (and is halfway there); then in come two visitors, never before been to this or any Folk Club. They got charged admission, were made to buy three raffle tickets each, had to listen to the Chairman do two half hour unaccompanied shanties apart from an HGV mouth organ solo, and got told to be quiet in between the songs.

And they didn’t win the raffle.

Now tell me it don’t exist.

And so, as the Health and Safety inspector of fate approaches the Folk Club of trepidation and the regulars hastily hide the banjo player at the bottom of the fire escape, I notice it is the end of this blog,

Until next time Acoustic Chums

Keep Strummin’


[1] That may be the wrong way round. Which rather goes to prove the point.

[2] That’s the basic mugging. Anything exotic, eye gouging, gooly stomping or name calling over and above your basic Anglo Saxon abuse – well that’s extra, mate.

[3] Sorry. I do that. You should be used to it by now.

[4] Be careful how you interpret that; I could see discomfort ahead for careless readers.

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