Roving and Redemption

There are a lot of songs about drinking in folk music. They certainly give a bit of the ol' machismo to our own drinking! And what folk festival would be complete without a few (and then a few more) ales?

But some folk songs about drinking are cautionary tales. All rovers must return from roving, or face the dire consequences. Who can forget those great lines from Carrick Fergus?


For I'm drunk today and I'm seldom sober


The handsome rover from town to town


Ah but I am sick now my days are numbered


Come all me young men and lay me down


Throughout the song the rover expresses his longing to return home. But it is too late, he has drunk himself to death.


In Spencer the Rover the need to cease roving and return to a more temperate existence is expressed in almost spiritual terms. Spencer drinks water "and it tasted far sweeter than the gold he had tasted. Sweeter than honey, and gave more content". Ale has clouded his mind  and taken all his money and his family, whilst water replenishes and restores him, bringing clarity and a crucial moment of reflection.


A clouded mind is the true curse of drinking. Its effects are far-reaching. In the novel "An Autobiography of a Super Tramp" by W.H Davies we first meet 'Australian Red' after what he calls "the spree". Whilst walking with his companions, the rest of the group notice that he stops every few moments to check the lining of his clothes. He continues to do this, slowing the pace of the group considerably. Eventually a member of the group demands he stop acting so strangely, or they will be forced to leave him behind. Reluctantly, he explains:


A week ago I had a hundred Dollars saved, but where are they now? It is always my custom...when I go on the spree, to secrete my money in some safe place. Although I have no recollection of doing so, I am positively assured that such has been the case; and would not be surprised at any moment to discover a twenty dollar bill in the lining of my clothes. 


For 'Australian Red' 'the spree' results in an endless cycle of drinking, loss of money and chronic uncertainty. The pattern is always the same. He earns some cash then he spends it all on merrymaking. Afterwards he asks Davies for a loan, telling him he'll repay him after finding his secret stash. But he never finds it since he can't remember where he stashed it. At any rate, the likelihood is that all his cash has been spent on booze. As a result, he spends his life forever drinking and losing, drinking and losing. He is trapped in an uncertain world of his own making, obsessively searching for something he'll never find.  He is a modern Tantalus, forever reaching for an unreachable apple. 


Drink makes us lose our memory, so some drink to forget. But in those moments of blackness, we stand to lose far more than just our memory. Who knows that will happen? Perhaps we will lose our friends. Even our family. Believe it or not, this article was not sponsored by some governmental health agency. I did not intend to preach. I have personal reasons for writing this article connected to something happening to someone I know. I only wish to point out that - as some folk songs seem to suggest - in a world of uncertainty excessive drinking can only make life all the more uncertain.

Physical Folk

Folk is often about movemnent: physical work, rhythm. Sea shanties, harvest, battles. Folk is about touch and smell and taste. It's what you can hold with your hands. In other words it is essentially vital, sensory. Take the kiss of a dead lover in Bonnie Light Horseman: " And I'd kiss the white lips, that lie cold in the clay".

Folk songs are not often about wealth, but delight in other things. In Spencer the Rover we have lines like: "With bread and cold water he laid down to rest, and it tasted far sweeter than the gold he had wasted, sweeter than honey and gave more content".  Folk music is also rarely esoteric. Songs tend to have a definite subject. Real problems, real people, real places.

Steve Tilston sets the physical reality that folk music takes as it's subject against the manufactured reality of the free market economy:

And behind their hedge
They don't plant wheat,
They don't cut corn,
They don't pick tea,
They don't dig coal,
They don't forge steel,
They just push numbers all about,
They push too far we bail them out,
Keep their fingers firm on fortune's wheel.

The bankers don't do anything. The market has no physical reality, it is only a collection of numbers that go up and down. The people who push the numbers do not make anything like steel or bread. They only make more money for themselves, and get bailed out if they fail. They deal in inconsistencies, in thin air. They are the new magicians, the new priests. For these City men are the only people left in this rational society who can make everyone believe in something they cannot see and touch. Money is the new god.

Folk music sees real value in physical experience: the birds, the bees, the bonking and the beer. The flora and fauna, the value of friends and community. It reminds us of what is really important. Money is not real. The market is not real. And in the end it can bring no comfort. As Jon Fletcher puts it: "I never met a wealthy man who didn't want for more".

As the Native American Cree say: "Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money".

Goodbye London

The time for travelling on draws closer. I've been saying goodbye to London. Fleeting moments.

It's funny, you never really look at a place until you're leaving it. I was walking across the Waterloo Bridge today in the misty sunlight looking at the Oxo tower and the muddy, sludgy Thames. It was beautiful. I noticed bars I'll probably never go to and thought of the mass of London I've never seen or experienced and probably never will. I saw a young girl in a bus gazing up at the buildings with wonder. Fresh to the fray. Circles of London life. For me, there's an exquisite melancholy in breaking out of London.

London has overwhelmed me. It cannot be conquered. It is always changing and shifting. A truly mercurial city, it slips through my fingers. I can explain my love of folk music with reference to London. I find harmony, comfort, roots, fellowship and security in folk music. It insulates me against the beguiling yet eventually overpowering change at the surging heart of London.       

London won't miss me. I feel like I'm going away from a swirl of activity where exciting things will happen without me. But I'm tired of the distance and the drudge and the diarising. I want to knock on a friends door as I pass. I don't want to have to plan to meet him in two weeks time at a mutually agreed location for the limited amount of time before he has to catch the Death Hole.

Now for Oxford. Cohesion. Community. A pint of ale in the Half moon. And a good song..... 

 

Grumpy Mr Wood?

Is it me or does Chris Wood come across as incredibly bitter on stage. He seems to literally sneer at the audience. Perhaps he is angry? He does wish to reclaim English culture, which isn't a doddle I must admit. But it's just his manner. I mean, it's just not pleasant. That might sound typically English and overly polite, but it's true. He might be a wizard of song-craft, but he just aint nice to watch sometimes. 

But sometimes is sometimes. True, when I watched him in 2007 he was very grumpy. But look here, he's happy as Larry!

I've had to edit my original post. I take it back Chris! :->

Narratives

I was watching my most favourite DVD of all time, The Last Waltz, when I suddenly thought how wonderful watching performances really is. It's not just what the performers give to the performance that creates an impression, oh no. The observer also creates his own little version of what is happening. His own narrative.

For instance, in Neil Young's performance of Helpless he looks extremely high on something. I heard somewhere that 'they' had to take a rock of cocaine out of his nose before he went on stage. I don't know whether this is true or not, or even where I heard it. But in it goes - into the mixing bowl of my interpretation. Well, to be fair, Neil is gurning his face off and hunching like some sort of gothic 'Egor' character.  When Neil starts singing "The big birds flying across the sky" Robbie and Rick start looking up at the ceiling and swaying with mocking smiles on their faces - I can't help thinking they are emphasising he is high as a kite - or in this case high as a bird.

It's these little aspects that can make performances special. Little nuances, touchstones, bits of hero-worship you can dust off and contribute in those moments when you're down the pub and everything is great, music is great - our heartbeat.

Words or Tune First?

On radio Derby last night Lester Simpson brought up a common interview question asked of songwriters: when writing a song, do you write words or tune first? Are you a 'Wordy' or a 'Tuney'.


Personally I always write the tune first. I can only make words fit tunes. I suppose it depends on the individual and how they are able to 'bolt-on'.


The only method I can think of that would allow me to write words before tunes is to write a 'poem'. Poems with a regular syllabic structure would make it easier for me to attach the words to a tune.


To write lines of prose without any thought of rhyme or rhythm, and then fit that to a tune, now that seems backwards to me. Surely this kind of songwriting produces a less structured and a more 'freeform' vocal line?


Are you a 'Wordey' or a 'Tuney'?

Myspace - I can't stand you

I had it! It was within my grasp! I found the holy grail - the myspace search facility that allows you to search ALL shows by genre within your postcode area....

And then? They changed the link. Now all they have are "Popular Shows". Distraught I tried to find the link again, clicking for dear life. But it seems it is no more. Now the ever more commercial myspace shoves what they think we are listening to down our throats. They are making the bigger bands ever more visible, and the smaller bands increasingly more difficult to find.

Damn you Myspace! I used to use you to find unheard of bands - now it seems all you're into is reduction and commercialisation rather than diversity....

Go Genevieve!

I've been listening to Genevieve Tudor's Sunday Folk, and I'm still smitten!


She takes promo cds from unknowns and just shoves them on! There should be more of these kind of shows for folk musicians - there is a lot of talent out there that is too shy to come to the traditional sessions at 'Old Man's Pubs'. Circumvention feeds invention?


Also Genevieve rather bravely said it's folk if she likes it - good for her! She puts on a lot of 'experimental' singer songwriter stuff that could be said to be written in the folk idiom, and mixes that up with other trad stuff. I think this approach will win her some loyal listeners, since her show is anything but stale!


I may even try and send her in something I've written myself. If I ever finally record it.....

Show Of Hands Gig..

I saw Show of Hands last Tuesday on Oxford Street.


They seemed a little worn down. They won Best Duo (poor Miranda!) at the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards the night before! Does this mean they were hungover? The recordings on the Mike Harding show certainly give the impression that there was some merriment... practically everyone got wolf-whistled and impish double-entendre was the order of the day!


"I came out here to.."
"Ha ha!""
etc.


Miranda Sykes does feel a little bit of an outsider. I first saw Show of Hands as two blokes sharing a stage and joking around. This is still the case and Miranda is rather a silent partner during proceedings...


At the end of the set I shouted till I was hoarse for "Longdog". No joy. I play the recording at my open mic every time, it's a tradition. I couldn't help feeling a little dissappointed! :-<

ULTIMATE FOLK FESTIVAL LIST

To anyone who doesn't know, the ultimate folk festival list is to be found on the FROOTS magazine website. Just click the "Festival List" link. Pretty cool, it even has the little festival in my home town!

The Madness Of Moray

(NOTE: I wrote this a while ago because I think that Jim Moray can be misunderstood. His music is not exactly to my taste, but I think he is a good case of the 'old VS new' debate in the folk world. That said, onward!)




Jim Moray: angel or anti-Christ? Both celebrated as the harbinger of ‘Nu-Folk’ and dismissed as a heretic, Moray came to English folk music as a child: his father was a Morris dancer and his parents met at a folk club. His teenage rebellion consisted of playing drums in a punk band. After having studied classical composition at the Birmingham Conservatoire he started combining all these elements. The result is his own particular brand of ‘folk fusion’, which has since crystallised into two albums: Sweet William and Jim Moray.


Reviewers have depicted Moray as a determined rebel, attributing to Moray “a carefully considered wilfulness, a deliberate attempt to shock or startle, by dint of a phaser-on-stun-setting overload of ideas” . These reviewers were by no means totally against Morays music. Nevertheless, his motives are implied to be the deliberate destruction of traditional music, due to a rebellious creative fury or an attempt to shock.


But if not to rebel, then why has Moray entered into such controversy? The fact is Moray holds fundamentally different views from others in the folk scene concerning the practice of traditional music. These conflicting opinions compete in two arenas: The song (or music), and the singer (or musician).


Arena one: the song. Moray’s creative arrangements and alterations present new concepts from old material. He takes phrases from traditional songs and combines them to create new ones. He also writes his own verses and adds them to existing traditional songs. Using digital techniques, he often changes the sound and feel of traditional music. In sum, Moray freely deconstructs and reformulates traditional music. This approach sharply conflicts with a more traditional attitude: that the integrity of the song can only be kept by ‘singing it the way it should be sung’. Moray’s experiments may be seen as selfish, damaging acts of heresy by purists.


Arena two: the singer. Among the folk community there is a strong concern for the singer to ‘match’ the song. The singer should be ‘authentic’. They should have experience of the content of the song and ideally be brought up in the tradition of which the song is part. A good example of this is the accusation laid on another significant force in progressive ‘Nu-Folk’: Rachel Unthank and the Winterset. This band was accused by critics of being too young and inexperienced to sing about coal mining because as young women they have not suffered such hard labour. Jim himself has been accused of delivering tasteless ‘pop-style’ vocals ill-befitting his traditional material. But according to Jim, an ‘authentic’ traditional style would conversely make him ridiculously ‘inauthentic’: “it would be completely living a lie for me to sing these songs acoustically in the vocal style of a 16th-century peasant, because I can't pretend I don't like listening to rock and avant-garde electronica” . Jim has been influenced by punk, rock, electronic and classical music as well as music from the English tradition. The music he is currently playing is the result of his colourful background, not a wilful demonstration against traditional values. It is music that comes naturally from his experiences and preferences: “I don't think what I'm doing is particularly revolutionary, it's just playing the songs in the way I want to play them. There's a lot of things that are present in traditional music that really get me going, but there's a lot of things that annoy me, and there's a lot of things that I miss from other music that I like, so it's trying to make a big pot of all the things that I like”.


No trace of ‘Moray the rebel’ here. Sounds more like a down-to-earth musician to me. Ultimately, Moray’s cool confidence in his music stems from a belief that ‘reconfiguration’ is inherent to the nature of traditional music: “That's what traditional music is, it's not rigid or set in stone. The idea is to put your own spin on whatever's there. English folk music is my cultural heritage, it's like a gift that's been passed down, and it's as much my right to decide what I do with it as it is anyone else's to not like it, or to do their own thing”. According to this definition, we should not leave folk music as an untouched museum piece, trying to keep it as it always was, perfectly intact. Instead we should mould it, shape it with our current influences, ideas and concerns. Folk music has become nostalgic and is used as an escape from the life of today, but once it was an expression of the people, an expression of the times. The reason why folk music is seen as boring ‘old man’s music’ by the multitude is due to an anachronistic outlook, an overemphasis on preservation. Of course tradition needs to be preserved. But it also needs to live, as a mode of expression and creativity and protest, and that can only happen by rooting some part of the music in today, in the here and now. This is what Jim Moray is trying to do with his songs, to tell his own story, to weave his own narrative into the cloth of tradition. Long live the Morays of folk music, for without them the tapestry of tradition would be decidedly more dull.

Useful BBC folk resources!

The Main BBC site is a great resource for keeping up with folk music. I didn't realise how much coverage the BBC have of folk but it's all here! The video is always in a 'slider' at the top and allows you to watch live music recordings. It's always great to watch these, can't get better than live performances....


If you love radio like me they've got it all here, usually 30 current folk radio programmes in one place! One Sunday I rather obsessively went through all of them! Just click "More folk programmes" at the bottom of the "Listen and Watch" section. The beauty of this is you can listen to radio programs after they've been broadcast with the magic of "i player" - just click and away you go!


I do have my favourites among these. Mike Harding's show is the biggest folk radio show on UK radio and is a great way with keeping up with what's going on. He also digs up some great 'unknowns' as well (for instance, three men he saw busking in the street!). It's very polished and is produced by Smooth Operations. Smooth operations put on the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards with Mike Harding presenting (sorry if you know all this already). Perhaps it's a little too polished, since I do like the complete chaos of Genevieve Tudor's live show. This woman is wonderfully disorganised! She drops things and picks them up, forgets what she's saying and asks people but noone seems to answer her! I think this ads to the character of the show, and her enthusiasm really shines through. I hope she keeps dropping things for many years to come! Also she has slightly more world music and a  bit of fusion thrown in, which I think is great cos it mixes things up a bit. Johnny Coppin also has a good mix. I guess it's listenable, perhaps more mainstream songwriter stuff (good old Show of Hands, going to see 'em on Tuesday!). Not too much box. That's quite important for me. Sorry box players, but I just can't take too much box! A little is ok, after that  it's strings/wind instruments all the way for me!


There are some programs I like listening to for the voice as much as the music. Archie Fisher's travelling folk is one of these, he's got a really nice Scottish accent and he always talks with the musicians as if they're his very best friends: a real feel-good show. Also my Grandmother was Scottish and my Mum used to sing us to sleep with "Dreamangus", so Scottish music really holds a special magic for me. I also listen to an Ulster Scots programme "A Kist o Wurds". This is more historical than musical, and is spoken in Ulster Scots. What a variety of dialects we have eh? I get a really homely feeling from listening to this. Don't ask me why!


Folkwaves is something else I like to listen cos of the presenters. There's more box on here than I can take under normal circumstances but the banter between the two presenters and the stories and strong sense of  local tradition compensate! Again, gives a homely-warm feeling...


If anyone is reading this hope you found this useful! My goodness I need to think of another word for 'homely' :->

The Cautious Rise of the 'Techno-Folkies'

You may have seen us but you wouldn’t know it. We are the ones who stand alone in the festival tent because none of our friends would be seen dead at a folk gig. We have no traditional upbringing or roots. We are probably in our twenties and have come to folk music post teenage-angst, looking for something less vain and more meaningful. We love Show of Hands. We don’t feel at home at a session, instead we listen to our music on the Internet. We are secretive. We fear being shunned as heretics. We are a new breed. We are the ‘techno-folkies’.


These unholy ragamuffins may have had their interest in folk music sparked by chancing upon a memorable act, or by the TV series Sharpe. The same mass communication which has so damaged the oral tradition spawns and sustains this parasitic new breed. The Internet, and Myspace especially, allows these people to develop their interests and circumvent the traditional folk clubs and sessions, which may seem to them far too austere and limiting and where the average ‘techno-folkie’ simply cannot relate to older members.


Learning outside of the oral tradition like this can meet with strong opposition. Damien O’kane, who has studied a folk degree at Newcastle University, has had to defend himself against accusations that he is damaging the oral tradition. When I watched Chris Wood perform in Loughborough, I could clearly hear a snort of derision upon the mention of his tutoring role in the Newcastle degree. What would these people think of the ‘techno-folkies’ internet-based, distance learning approach to folk music?


The main problem for the ‘techno-folkies’ is that folk music is about who the artist is, not just what they are trying to present. The ties of tradition are strong indeed. There has been a long tradition of family dynasties in folk music, with a powerful belief in the transference of traditional music and the knowledge and talent needed to convey it. Of course, this doesn’t mean that experimental approaches to folk music are forbidden, far from it. Rachel Unthank and the Winterset are very much a nu-folk, experimental band. They have influences both modern and traditional, and their inclusive view of folk music is expressed on their Myspace website where they quote Louis Armstrong: "all music is folk music, I ain't never heard a horse sing a song". However, as revolutionary as this may be, they still have the necessary foundations in traditional music: the Unthank sisters grew up in a ‘folkie’ family listening to floor singers in the North East. They have the correct ‘qualifications’ for entry to the folk scene. The importance placed on this traditional upbringing by the folk community is expressed by provision of children’s activities and workshops: an attempt to instil children with an appreciation of local traditions from a young age. ‘Techno-folkies’, who have a wide range of influences, are even more likely to experiment with folk music than people brought up in a strong tradition. The difference is they lack an authenticating traditional background. Experimenting with folk music and not having the ‘required background’ or ‘training’ may be judged unacceptable by people in the folk community who see themselves as guardians of tradition.


The result of the concentration on heredity and upbringing is that, instead of folk music being by the people and for the people, we have the ascendance of various tribes. The word ‘royalty’ is constantly applied to certain families in the press, a bit of an oxymoron when we think of what ‘folk’ music really means! I’m certainly not against folk heroes, these have always existed and long may they do so. Some people think heroes are born and not made, but I believe musicians should be judged by their output as well as their lineage. Poor ‘techno-folkies’ don’t even have a place on the scale, and naturally feel excluded. They have no traditional background and they’ve already grown up, so is it too late for them? Is there no mission to invite them to the fold? Is there any place the ‘techno-folkies’ can belong, where they can experience a sense of community?


Fortunately there is: The Magpies Nest in Islington run by the vivacious young organisers Joe Buirski and Sam Lee. Their website heading (which reads like a mission statement) boldly proclaims “Old Folk, New Folk, No Folk”. Here is an inclusive folk club that allows the shy ‘techno-folkies’ to encounter folk music on their own terms. Like Pinocchio becoming a real boy, here ‘techno-folkies’ can engage with others and become full-blown Folkies. Understandably, they’ve jumped at it. The Young rub shoulders with the old, the traditionalists chat with song writers. It is wonderfully vibrant. When you go to the Magpies Nest, whoever you are, you’ll feel part of a real scene.


All this is well and good, but won’t such a mish mash affect the quality of the music? The fact remains that ‘techno-folkies’ have no links to tradition whatsoever. How can anything they produce be of value? A spade’s a spade isn’t it? But in the modern world, we have the ability to think outside our own lives. We can research to learn the history and traditions of old, and modern technology only makes this easier. This research can inform folk musicians, even those whose output is largely traditional. At the 2006 Loughborough Folk Festival John Tams joked that he spent so much time in the library he was mistaken for staff! The oral tradition has its guardians and enthusiasts and everyone in the folk scene respects these people. But the integrity of the oral tradition will not be better preserved by obstructing others getting involved using modern methods of learning.


‘Techno-folkies’ should not be made to feel like ‘pseudo-folkies’. We should hold our heads high. And why not? We enjoy our folk music on our own terms whilst staunchly withstanding the ridicule of our friends for enjoying ‘old men’s music’. We may not be instructed by oral tradition but our passion cannot be questioned. We even have a folk club that welcomes us. So maybe we’re not pedigree. We’re certainly not royalty when it comes to the folk world. But more importantly, we’re still dedicated folkies. And proud.