There come a time when it’s time for a change. Not necessarily a big change, maybe a little alteration to the norm would do. It’ll be ok.
Just ask Norm.
Be Welcome, Gentle Reader, and read on…
This week has been a bit different inasmuch as we’ve had a few less shows and so have had more chance to get a few bits of important musical admin sorted out.
Like tidying the garage, and the storeroom.
This has meant that I have rediscovered many things, which, are apparently entirely essential, but it has also meant that several musical items have gone to Jesus.
Things like a marimba or two, a tiny practice amp, several assorted percussion bits, which, I promise, sounded godawful. The resulting space was massively increased when we said ‘Cheerio’ to the old PA system, which has gone on to pastures new, this time even deeper into the folk world than we ever took it.
Next years calendar is still filling up, and the new show is going to be a very big, and important step for us, as it has to be better and different whist still be the same.
A bit like this blog really.
One highlight this week was a trip to Sunny Middlesbro’ to see Peg Powler present their album launch at The Python Gallery. Sara Dennis leads this folk rock outfit and of course we’ve known her for quite a while. Unfortunately it’s really the drummer that we know. David is thumping the tubs in PP these days as well as in emergent folk rock supergroup Hadrian’s Union.
In PP David plays a cut down kit, and therefore only requires two trucks and sixteen roadies to assemble the gear for him and fan him with wet copies of Folk Roundabout as he zones himself into the performance.
As with most drummers, ‘Zoning In’ apparently requires quite a lot of beer.
For the record, Peg Powler put on a very good show of original, story based songs, and their line up of guitar, fiddle, drums, occasional bass and lots of vocals filled the gallery with a very fine sound indeed.
Should go far.
We went to Heugh Battery again this week to do Beat The Drum on the 100th anniversary of the First Battle of the Somme; always nice to play there, it’s a tiny museum with a big heart and nice feel. It’s the place where the only ‘official’ enemy engagement on UK soil happened in December 1914.
I don’t know how the victims of air raids feel about that.
There are some images here, not many, as although the Heugh Battery isn’t licensed, the Wrinkly Wroadies are and usually bring their own.
I suppose the main news is regarding this blog.
I have decided to make it occasional rather than weekly. It will still get updated, quite possibly weekly, quite possibly not.
The reason for this is that I feel it’s getting a bit samey, and more importantly I want to write more.
And not post an FG blog?
How can this be?
The FG blog is meant to be about music, and even though Folk Clubs do get a look in, it usually is.
But I want to write about other stuff so will be staring another blog, which will be about anything I fancy writing about.
You won’t escape, as I’ll mention it here first.
Chairman Dave opened his eyes again, this time more carefully. The room looked the same.
Sunshine struggled fitfully to penetrate the gloom through filthy windows, providing just enough illumination to make you wish it hadn’t bothered.
The back room of the King’s Head and Washerwoman’s Legs had never changed in years and it still looked to same.
The chairs were empty, the last member had died years ago, even though they kept coming – every Thursday when the Leek Show isn’t on.
So what was it?
Dave scratched his head and looked round slowly.
He wondered when he’d put on the white cheesecloth and cords. He didn’t even recall buying a white waistcoat, but then; after ten o’clock there were many things Dave didn’t recall.
Like paying the acts for instance.
What was the last thing he remembered?
How couldn’t remember, and it didn’t seem to matter.
And that noise? The sound of voices, distant but growing louder, more insistent.
It sounded like the members, but there hadn’t been that many people in the Folk Club for years and years.
A growing panic rose within him as a thought surfaced, and no matter how hard he pushed it down, it kept bobbing right back up.
As the Folk Club gradually hardened around him and the members, long gone, began to take their accustomed seats (which caused a few arguments) Dave made his way to the bar.
The barman had his back to him but Dave, unable to wait, blurted out, “am I in the eternal Folk Club of heaven?”
The barman turned, Dave couldn’t help but notice the horns.
‘Well’, smiled the barman; ‘two out of three ain’t bad’.
…’Guinness is off.’
And so as the trumpet sounds and angels cry, dogs bark and cats miaow, I notice that nothing has changed; because that’s what they’re meant to do.
Until next time Acoustic Chums,
 I’m sure someone else is on there later in the year, but for the life of me…