Is it too soon to ponder over which stand up bassists have the sufficient skills to take on the mantle of the late and great Danny Thompson. Through his playing I was able to learn to love the organic beauty of the sinuous precision he played with, eventually ridding myself of my childish prejudice of the instrument, which similarly tarnished trumpet and clarinet, both of which I also much admire. I can’t comment on the jazzier climes of DT’s play, as I know him best for his folk; I came in late, around his work with namesake Richard, before ploughing back to Nick Drake, Pentangle and John Martyn. Along the way I enjoyed what he could add to Transatlantic Sessions, to EBTG, to Blue Rose Code and to William Tyler. There are a few lyrical folk tinged double bassists I admire. Jon Thorne is one, Ben Nichols another. But the best of the lot is James Lindsay. In Breabach as his main gig, he is also the in demand player for just about any Scot solo artist needing a bassist, as well as adding bass to innumerable albums by neo-trad bands who don’t normally use bass otherwise, the likes of » Continue Reading.

Gigs, I’m talking, although, as largely a forum of mature gentlemen, this may equate equally to matters micturitional. A lot of posts have mentioned the merits of a seat, whilst mentally moshing to the performance on stage, several going as far as to state that their days of standing for any length of time are behind them. Me, much as I love a seat for a posh gig, yer Symphony Hall and yer Town Hall, increasingly my tastes see me frequenting venues where, if you want a seat, you have to arrive way too early, to stake a claim. Or sit behind unfeasibly large headed individuals who block any view. So, given the choice, I’ll stand, ta. My knees don’t thank me, and complain, swelling with their dissent, often quite painfully. But I prefer the freedom, the right to roam, not least as I like to get as close the front as I can. Festivals make up most my live these days, and this is added to, on an additional governing principle. The demographic at folk festivals is not young; “afterword friendly” an epithet that could be used. Aka so fucking old, often, to embarrass me, until, of course, I » Continue Reading.

As in @ColinH and his fight to get and give Dick Gaughan his rightful acclaim and some recompense, well documented previously, attention is drawn to Sept/Oct’s R’n’R (née Rock’n’Reel magazine. In it is a fascinating article and interview withy each of them, updating to what was, at time of publication, the current state of play. It is a good read and has you think well of each of them.

I recently stumbled on this Dutch guitar prodigy, whose pleasure it is to imagine songs in the style of another. His favourite seems to be Mark Knopfler, and his YouTube channel contains myriad songs in the style of Dire Straits. His characterisation of the Knopfler style is spot on, but, should you tire of that, he also does a wicked Stevie Ray Vaughan. Here’s the link to his page, with 3 of my favourites below.

I came lately to the shrine of Steve Knightley. Sure, I was taken with Show of Hands when I first saw them, around 1990, but it was Phil Beer that held my attention, on fiddle, guitar and anything with strings. Then they just sort of became too ubiquitous for my tastes and I ignored them. But, as I stated again to start going again to festivals, about a decade ago, I found I couldn’t avoid them, as they seemed to play every one of them. And, through attrition, I realised I really liked them. Now, however, it was the songs and the singer that caught my ear. Show of Hands are “resting”, but Knightley, that singer, certainly isn’t, perma-touring instead. In the last year he has formed a band, Dream In Colours, who lasted a handful of gigs, ahead a NDA dissolution, a solo album, a Dylan/Carthy covers album, 2 national tours and, now, another new band. A busy chap, and he has just put up a vid of he and that band. A song from his solo album, redone and revised. I think he is one of our finest singer-songwriters, and fits that description in both of its constituent » Continue Reading.

Well, given all I was offered for my forthcoming trip, announced here, was the weather forecast, I thought a brief report back worthwhile. And isn’t Hatfield Park a fancy piece of turf, on of ‘Enery 8’s old deer hunting parks? A posh crowd, I’d say, the Home Counties out in force, with picnic baskets and blankets, setting up camp for the day in the gazebo zone, a first for me. But a good crowd, 8k all told, for a good day of music. No camping and so I had bought into some dodgy digs as near to the park as I could get, checking in after curfew. The weather gods were largely smiling, with, mostly, sunshine. A couple of deluges, but each whilst I was under cover, so my pacamac remained largely untouched. Two stages, with the cracking wheeze that one would have music whilst the other prepared the next act, meaning no awkward clashes and no bleed of sound across the arena area. Craft tents and a market, stuff for bored kiddies, a good range of food outlets and reasonable (for the South) beer prices, £6, with local brewery, Tring brewery supplying most the ales, all meant that the » Continue Reading.

This is wonderful. From today’s Today programme, sent me by a chum. All constructed from lyrics song lyrics.

https://share.icloud.com/photos/038cbaXSfHPfLihingn2J-Mdw

Get them all

Anyone folding by the oak this year? I was to be in Spain, but Mrs Path remained too unwell, if getting, hooray, better, to allow it, but I do have a day pass for this day long shindig. For me, I have to follow Hatfield and the South signposting, but it is a good and varied line-up, featuring Bear’s Den, Kate Rusby, Project Smok, Orchestra Baobab amongst several others. A mini-mingle might be nice, if only to shelter from the predicted 30 degree temps.

Who likes crisps, then? I love ‘em, but try to dial that down these days, for reasons of health, girth and, increasingly, wealth: those big “share” bags are getting very pricy. In truth, it is probably all the powdery artificiality of flavours I love. I can’t be doing with the continentals and their salted or paprika, dull, dull, dull, I need weird and/or spicy. All said, mind, cheese and onion remains the lodestone. If I see a new make, I feel required to test drive the savour. IMHO, 1970’s Golden Wonder were the peak provider, not unconnected with a large lump of solid “cheese and onion” I once found in a bag. Probably full of now banned toxic e numbers, I can remember that playtime treat, my teeth watering as I type. Anyhoo, I chanced upon a new provider yesterday, a brand in association with English Heritage, the flavour purportedly Baron Bigod cheese and onion. I know Baron Bigod cheese, it a Suffolk Brie that, like most bries is broadly bland until you can and have to chase it round the room. These crisps taste nothing like that cheese, nor onion. But they impart a hefty kick of umami, salt » Continue Reading.

Rarely, these days, do I chance upon a new name to fill my heart with such glee, with most new music seeming always to be revisioned reworkings of old. Sure, I love some old, but get, sometimes, a little bored. Plus, I like to pretend I have pretty eclectic taste, and scour the blogs and mags for what I might like. The old warhorses, Unshod and Mopo, devoured each month, produce, in their new releases, little much more than a couple of pointers each, and I have usually already been sent those, for review purposes. This month I came across a brand new favourite, in Adrian Crowley. He is 8 albums into a career, seemingly bypassing my attention, despite even making a duet album with Lal, sister of Norma, Watersons, which ought to caught my attention. But it didn’t, that coming through an unusual release, The Grief of the Sea, re-released today, first out a year or so back. A various artists selection of songs from and about the Irish diaspora, particularly the transatlantic hulk ships that transported those fleeing the famine, seeking greener grass in the new world. It’s a grand album, with the likes of Cathal Coughlan to » Continue Reading.

I’ve not watched this for donkeys, but circumstances had me looking for TV sustenance, after the wife has headed Bedfordshire, a rarity, I normally first. So it was last weeks Later I latched on. Not good. Skunk Anansie up first, with some embarrassing guff about not being taken seriously come the menopause. I like old bands celebrating their longevity but this was shit. CMAT I was aware of, knowing her to be of dubious charm, and she didn’t disappoint, and was enormously annoying. I don’t know Cynthia Erico(?) before. First she performed a dire God Only Knows with the never more unctuously salivating host of the show. To be fair, her own song later was OK, if generic femmotragic. Sam Amidon next, I confess the only name to grab me from the credits, he being Mr Beth Orton, and whose recent album I had been tasked with reviewing, for where I review stuff. Perhaps obviously, it was the Lou Reed cover from that album that was featured. I had tried to be kind for my review, but this performance challenged any of those kind words. As in it was fascinatingly naive, ahead a ghastly fiddle woedown. (Yes, woedown.) The third » Continue Reading.

Not a typo, but my feeling after a, so far, near miss scam. I hate bloody car parking via app. Add in a car park that, pre-app, has always been out to annoy, namely the one in central Keswick, and I’m angrier still. Trying to park yesterday, I saw they now use a “ MiPermit” system, necessitating downloading the app. In so trying to do, I later encountered numerous websites claiming to be, which should have been warning sufficient. But, first time in, mindful of not wasting time, I dove in the first. It seemed kosher, my bad, going as far as details etc. Then it “crashed”. Trying again, I did then get the app up and running, but my bank declined the fee. I gave up and went to the Booths car park, where they have a far simpler system. On return to our holiday let, I checked my account, as I always do, lest any jiggery pokers had ensued. Nil and phew. However, an e Mail soon announced my 3 day trial in some travel webpage was now running, to be followed by £60 subs per month. I unsubscribed stat and received acknowledgement. Today I have a 1 » Continue Reading.

In an adjunct to the recent @freddy-steady post, who are the bands or artists you have secret dislike of?These may be artists you have records by, possibly even proud to walk through the playground/campus with, smugly tucked under your arm. You try to like ‘em, even, but just can’t quite get there… Here’s mine:

Frank Zappa: atonal and/or puerile. Doesn’t count Hot Rats, except for the track with the singer next in line.

Captain Beefheart. Vile din, surpassed only by

Tom Waits. Writes nice songs, mind, or used to, before he got married.

Joni Mitchell. Also writes nice songs. But also chooses to sing them.

Earth, Wind and Fire. No, that’s a lie, it is no secret. A waste of satin and too many trumpets. And I like trumpets.

Cold ones, that is, and not counting water or zero-alcohol beers, gins etc etc. As much a quest to find something palatable when alcohol is unavailable, inappropriate, ill-advised or just plain unwanted. Me, I struggle to find something I return to, but the San Pellegrino Melograno e Arancia (pomegranate/orange pop) is a one I quite like at the moment, as is any not overly sweet ginger beer: I quite like Bundaberg. Ideas and suggestions, please.

Are back back back! You didn’t know? Maybe subsumed within the Oasis reformation news has been that Mark E Nevin and Eddi Reader have buried any ongoing hatchets, after 36 years, along with the other two members. This came about through the beseeching of their still active Japanese fan base. And no doubt a whole wedge of dosh to finance a tour over there. And, as they say, one thing led to another, and studio time was booked. A mix of new and some recycled Nevin solo songs, and Bobs your Mums brother. Its actually not at all bad, with the cream on the cake being the other two touring musicians from 1986-8 also getting to play, Graham Henderson, accordion, and Roger Beaujolais, mallets (aka vibraphone, glockenspiel etc) In fact, it’s quite a bit better than, IMHO, that First Of A Million Kisses, that made them huuuuuuge at the tail end of the 80s. And last night I went to see them, all six, and it was generally a good show. Playing perhaps every song from their 2 records, they went down very well with a very older couples at Waitrose audience. As someone who likes a fair bit of » Continue Reading.

Eh? My AW is today riddled with requirements to type in odd words, due to “unusual use”. I sense we have been hacked, AW, not me. Anyone else?

Recently there was some to and fro around whether life is long enough to allow re-appraisal of music deemed earlier of being below par. The overriding was that it wasn’t, and that, once dissed, never should the chance to reconsider be worth the energy and effort. strangely, I am in the position of owning the first two albums by Django Django, the Scots/Irish/Anglo combo, who actually have notched up 5 albums since 2021. At the time I recall I thought the debut lacked some lustre, smacking of a Moody Blues with access to a modern studio and al the tricks therein. I had been buoyed in by the reviews. I can’t explain why I then bought the second, especially as I thought the same. I don’t even like the Moody Blues. I am on a re-burning project, after the great crash of 2022 (my great crash of 2022, as my MacBook died, ingloriously), taking also the time to get rid of superfluous. Fully intending to get rid, I listened again. Both records are quite good. Better even, I rather like both. So there!

OK, we, mostly, “know” each other, back to front and side to side, a 20 year shared history, our peccadilloes and our prejudices all well aired.. But, we pretend, sure, we pretend, still to be cutting at that harsh edge of modernity, be it popular, populist or preposterous. Or not, many still chowing down on heritage gruel, Merseyside or Mekong adjacent, but, here’s a thing. Who would be the single artist, band or conceptual consequence you could not live without? I’m going to say R.E.M. You. (Don’t all say Beatles band.)

Summer really is icumen in, so time to get the tent out the garage, air the sleeping bag and review your set of heritage Ts, it’s festival season!! I’m kicking off with Bearded Theory, in a fortnight, ahead of New Forest, Sidmouth and, fingers crossed Beautifyl Days? Anyone coming! Or what and where are your tips and favourites? And, for the naysayers, is there any single performer you would sleep in a field to see, eating noodles off a cardboard plate, supping ale from a recyclable glass(deposit included in first purchase)?

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