High Octane Folk ‘n Roll…

Once again the hands of time have waved another week by and we have pulled into the slow lane, just long enough to get a blog scribbled and posted. Then we will mirror, signal and manoeuver back into the acoustic fast lane, foot to floor.

Or almost to floor, I mean these days you have to be careful…

Be welcome Gentle Reader and read on…

 

 

I am invited, via the national media, to extend my sympathies to the international oil producing community over their plummeting profits, caused, we are told, by the continuing drop in oil prices on the global market.

 

Correct me if I’m wrong, but when oil prices were even higher than they are today (and it changes on that very basis), I don’t recall nice Mr Shell, or his mate Mr Texaco nipping out of the office to see if I was alright as I struggled to keep up the mortgage on the tank of petrol required to get us to the next gig. Apparently, according to Mr Google, who is never wrong, the big five oil companies make $375 million a day in profit.

Blimey, that’s more money than an MP gets paid. At least daily.

We, that is Fool’s Gold: one of the most popular original prog-folk duos in all of the southern part of Oxhill Villas, need petrol. We need it to juice up the progmobile to sally forth to get to gigs, hunt for gigs, buy strings, anything we need to leave the house for requires this processed by-product of deceased sea creatures.

Lovely Mr BP and his marra Mnsr Exon, know this to be so and so far have managed to refrain from showing their appreciation for our art in terms of lower prices at the pump.

Notwithstanding, I heed the call to show my sympathy, here and now and in full on the pages of this missive.

Here it is:

 

 

 

There. I hope they appreciated it.

 

This week we have not been to a pub or a club – at least not with musical intentions. We have however been busy little bunnies playing to a variety of audiences and having a whole barrow-load of chuckles along the way.

It happened like this…

On Monday we went to one of our regular care homes and did them a Burns Show. It must be said that a Burns Show is in many ways quite similar to a regular show, but did have half an hour or so of genuine Caledonian Tunery thrown in. This was a delight as the residents, some of whom have got to recognise us now, genuinely enjoyed it and did not throw a single sharp item throughout. Very nice.
The next day was a WI dinner. This is another challenge. If you think a Folk Club audience is tough, try a crack WI regiment, high as kites on Baileys and Bristol Cream and out to paaaaaaaarty. We realized early on, that quite a few of our set songs appear to have alternative lyrics…

We had a great time because they did too.

Next up, a Stories with Strings show for a U3A branch. Held in the posh surroundings of The Sea Hotel in Sarf Shields[1], we had a room of 80 well-fed and royally watered members, ready to be entertained.

Interestingly there was a double booking and a chap called Eddie turned up to do the same booking. He was a solo entertainer, who must have done something totally on voice power as he had no gear at all. He took one look at the FG PA and AV setup, clocked the instruments, the room (which was biiig) and the 80+ punters and allowed himself to be persuaded (not by us) to depart, doubtless to return another day.

As it happens, this was one afternoon when it all clicked and the show went well with a really nice vibe. Audience singing along, FG more or less on the ball…

Such fun!

We had an outing one evening to the Acoustic Burrow of Jim and Allyson Wigfield, the purposes of acoustic chummery to pursue. Anyone who has seen Jim perform will have appreciated his singular phrasing and neo-romantic approach to the noble art of screwing words together into an intricate, yet really quite confusing, sculpture.
Usually about sheep.
Or Chickens.
That’s Northumberland for you.

Also in attendance, Folk Rock’s loudest, rudest and most visceral duo; jiva. jiva are of course not, the loudest rudest or most visceral Folk Rock duo around – that was my poor attempt at humour. They are merely one of Folk Rock’s loudest, rudest and most visceral duos[2].

A grand evening of acoustic chat on the subject this, that, and at one memorable point, the other. Evenings spent in the company of Acoustic Chums never disappoint and this one was a really good ‘un.

Other evenings were spent arranging some more gigs. I trailed our forthcoming show in Holland last week, and we got it nailed down this week. It really is forthcoming too, it’s not until December 2016, and you can’t get much more forthcoming than that without being a Bishop[3]. Carol said she didn’t mind when we go as long as I could guarantee a calm crossing of the German Ocean. Renowned as I am for possessing powers that King Canute[4] could only dream of, I have guaranteed a calm and unruffled sea voyage by securing the gig in December.

What can possibly go wrong?

Not many evenings left to report on; they were spent songwriting, getting a new set sorted out for Folk Clubs, working with a certain well know NE folk club to get a date for a guest night (can’t say which one yet) and working on our recording projects. Progress has been painfully slow on these various bits and pieces, but with the prospect of a little bit of clear time looming, you never know, there might be some news about new FG recorded matter[5] soon.

So you can see why we didn’t get out to club this week.

Anyway we couldn’t go out – have you seen the price of petrol?

 

 

And so as the inattentive pump attendant of fate shoves his diesel nozzle into the filler cap of unleaded Folk, I notice that it is the end of this blog.

Until next time Acoustic Chums,

Keep Strummin’

 

[1] You know that South Shields Hotels are posher than their Northern brethren. In the South Shields motel, rooms could only be had for the whole night.

[2] Check for yourself at http://www.jiva.co.uk (don’t let that ‘Gentle Harmony’ rhubarb deceive you – these guys are animals)

[3] Male of course. Whaddya think I am; a bloody liberal?

[4] Whose real name was ‘Cnut’. I think you’ll agree, that was close.

[5] Well, don’t you record yours?

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