Hello all:
Our last folk club that we visited in Wales, and environs was the Newport Folk Club. It was the closest club to where we were staying. It was the end of a day that had a bit of travel stress incorporated. We have had difficulties between the pilot and the navigator at times on this trip. We are seriously considering acquiring a satnav. They are available from about sixty pounds. We drove out to Avergavenny for being tourists, and wasted way too much time finding the road, which was a straight drive once we were on our way. Oh well, water under the bridge. Pilot, and navigator survived with nothing but a few emotional bruises.
The Newport folk club is held in the Lyceum Tavern in Newport, Wales. As usual, it was upstairs, and to the back. This club uses a PA for their singers night. That is fairly unusual. I'm convinced by this time that soft singing is a trait of singers on the west coast of Wales, and England. Among the songs from the first few singers were "Bad Moon Rising", "I'm My Own Grandpa" (to a rhythm from hell), and "St. James Infirmary" among others. I think they put the less experienced singers on first. Unlike the Nova Scotia Club in Bristol, this was predominantly a grey hair crowd. There were few under 60. They initially gave us two songs, but asked for another after the two we did. At the end of the night not everyone had had a turn at singing, but nonetheless, they gave us another song to end the night. I ended with "Big Floppy Hats".
There was a pair of brothers in the crowd, noticeable because they were like bookends. They were identical twins, and a couple of jokers as well. Someone got up and took his turn who was from Bristol, and one of the brothers asked him, "You're not from around these parts, are you son?". It was a typical southern sheriff's drawl he asked with, and I laughed out loud. They were full of this stuff all night long. When a very sophisticated guitar solo went south and the instrumentalist muttered, "Shit!" one of the brothers chimed in, "Oh boy, a chorus!" (everyone loves to sing along on choruses). One of the brothers was an acappella singer with a falsetto, and the other was an accomplished blues guitarist. I talked to them at the end of the night, and we all regretted that we couldn't spend some time together. They were really funny guys, with a sense of humor I could appreciate.
The next morning it was goodbye to Newport, Langstone, and the New Inn hotel. We were off to the Orpington Liberal Club, and Friday Folk. We have played Friday Folk four times now. It is organized by Sue Tuckey. We always stay with Sue when we play her club. Her partner Trevor had a heart attack about 18 months ago and only has 1/3 heart function, but other than that, he's doing pretty well.
Sue is 4'11" tall. As I type "tall", it seems ironic, as she is nothing near tall. She is as round as she is short, and has a round face that often is mirthful. I feel privileged to share her home with her. She and Trevor are a duo called Tone Deaf Leopard, and she really is tone deaf. They have nothing, if not a sense of humor. Trevor had a motorcycle accident some years ago that left him with a bad leg. Sue is epileptic, and has a misformed foot as well as being vertically challenged. Both of them talk nonstop, except for the occasional falling on the floor laughing as they quote one of their own song lyrics. Trevor has two sons, who Sue explains are of an age that they don't want to be seen with Trevor, or Sue. She understands them, and doesn't seem outwardly hurt by what she sees as their teenage inclinations. One of the sons, Ben (I've never met either) is an excellent guitarist, and both Sue and Trevor are way proud of his accomplishments.
Orpington is changing, like the rest of the world. The world's largest Tesco store resides on the corner across from the Orpington Liberal Club. Kristi and I had a meal on High Street shortly after we arrived in Orpington, and it gave us the opportunity to see that the town is all torn up, with barriers everywhere and change still moving in. It is a suburb of London. In 2004 Kristi and I took a train into London from Sue's to attend the largest anti-war march we've ever been to. It is a short trip by train to the center of London. Sue lives in a neat row of houses, probably about the same size as our apartment in Tacoma. The garden (read yard) is smaller than ours by quite a bit. Things are cluttered there, as there are more things than space to put them, once again like home to us. They have a leopard spotted cover on the couch, and Trevor has his should length hair tied around with a leopard spotted headband. Sue is wearing a shirt with a tiger on it. Tesco didn't have a leopard on any of their shirts.
We talk for awhile when we arrive, but I'm tired out from the drive, and I have had an intestinal bug bothering me so I lie down for a quick nap. Kristi, Sue, and Trevor continue to talk downstairs, and I drift in, and out of sleep. Finally I get up, get dressed in my performance clothes and we head for the club in two cars, us following Trevor. I parked wrong when I got there, and Trevor instructs me that there won't be enough parking for everyone if I don't park perpendicular to the building, so I move the car. The meeting room at the Orpington Liberal Club is quite a larger space than the bar area. You have to ring to get in, and the door hinges have quite a heavy spring in them that makes them difficult with a guitar and an amplifer, but I somehow manage to get in.
Trevor, and Sue are a flurry of activity. Trevor, in spite of having a cane, and a bad heart is moving tables. I try to help, but I'm busy trying to get myself set up as well, and not be in the way at the same time. Sue has mentioned how the folks moving up the escalator at the Tesco store look like automatons, and sure enough we look out the window of the Liberal Club, and there's the automotons moving up the ramp. There's hardly anyone there, and I'm worried that we'll have hardly any audience. We get all set up, and the MC lays down the rules for the evening, and plays a couple of songs. He has a sweet voice, and a fine arpeggio guitar style. People drift in as he is playing. By the time he finishes his two songs, we have 15 people there, including the area's premier singer/songwriter, Ron Truman Border. That's enough. There's another floor spot, who plays a mediocre version of Eric Bogle's "The Band Played Waltzing Matilda", which is such a great song that even mediocity can't kill it. There's the MC again, and it's now time for us to play.
I start with "Whistling in the Rain", which is a song I know I haven't over-played there in the past. If it was a club we'd been to less, I'd have started with " Birds of Winter", but this night it just didn't seem like the right song. "Whistling in the Rain" these days feels right, and I sing it in their faces, looking around the room at them as I tell them that I "left home half busted, If I was broke then there I'd be". They all look back with genuine belief in their faces, and I know I' ve got them. Kristi sings the second song, which is a new one for us "Alternate Universe". I often give her the first song, because I know how much folks enjoy her singing, but just tonight, I did things a little different. This is a fun song with lots of irony, probably influenced by Allan Watts.
Eventually there's a break in the night, and we all visit the restrooms, have a chat - those that drink get their glasses filled again. I chat with a guy who is familiar with Jim Page, and tells me about a blues guitarist from Seattle that he's seen. I tell him Seattle is filled with great blues guitarists, and that the blues bores me to tears. He, it turns out is a blues guitarist, something of a fathead, and playing the ukelele tonight, but I regret being so flip to him nonetheless. There is always a raffle at these clubs, and so it's raffle time before the floor spots start to play again. Sue gives away candy, a bottle of wine, and we hope there's enough money to pay us without breaking the bank at the end of the night. Fathead gets up and plays blues on a ukelele, and I am reminded of Martin Mull's blues on a ukelele with a baby bottle slide, "I got so low down deep inside I threw my drink across the lawn". This guy probably fits the bill. His name is really Roy.
It is election time here, and Gordon Brown is campaigning for his political life. Everyone's pissed at him, so I don't know if he'll get re-elected. The Liberal Democrats have always been the party that makes sense to me. That probably means that their candidate, Nick Clegg doesn't stand a chance. He is getting a lot of attention. After the first debate, where Gordon Brown was nice to him, everyone piled on him and I heard a national news broadcaster refer to him as a fag (quoting someone else). Then at the second debate Brown and the fascist candidate, David Cameron (oh, I'm sorry he's the Tory candidate) piled on and did their best to discredit Clegg at every opportunity. There was some discussion of this at half time. I more or less ignored them. Kristi hung around and told me that butthead, oh I'm sorry, Roy is a Tory. How nice that folk music gives us all a chance to hang out with each other. Hey, don't call me political though!
Sue and Trevor are introduced as Tone Deaf Leopard, and they play their own rock version of " Banks of the Ohio" while Trevor does his best to look like the psychopath that the song describes. Sue beats up a bodran, while Trevor plays impeccable rhythm guitar. Sue has no idea where the one of the measure is, smacking indiscriminately on the bodran. Once in awhile she is on the beat and it cheers my heart, but not for long, and before long I'm hoping she'll remain out of time because that can be funny.
We finish up the night with Kristi's version of "Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya". Sue sings along for a bit, and it sounds like she's singing fourths in her best soprano scream, but that fortunately doesn't last long. We get an encore, and I sing " Big Floppy Hats". I chat with the crowd a bit before they leave, and Trevor enlists Roy to help him out. We help a bit with the chairs and the tables. I am chatting with Roy in the parking lot. He is telling me how he likes China better than Japan as a travel destination, and his trip to Niagara Falls, etc., and Trevor and Sue are sitting in their car ready to go.
When we got back to Sue's, there was a bottle of whiskey there. I have been trying to go easy on the alcohol this trip, and have generally done pretty well. Trevor can't drink because of the medications he is on, and doesn't smoke anymore. Sue had a big drink though, and we stayed up too late, and it was fun. We talk about this and that. They don't really talk politics, but they have a political perspective. You definitely get some politics out of their songwriting.
We're in Blyth now. We're staying with Jimmy and Val, Jiva. You might have met them when they came to visit us last summer. We play at the Bridge Folk Club tomorrow night. That will be a good time I'm sure. Keep the home fires burning. Steve N,.
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