Ralph the Wonder Llama

Yes. In another attempt to make myself plus one irresistible to womankind, I have flung myself out of my own home, rendering myself of No Fixed Abode in addition to my voluntary joblessness. Not worked yet, but hey, it’s early days.

So, I’ve been very busy of late, since I decided to go away again, mostly putting things in boxes and other things in the skip. This has taken up a considerable amount of time. I think when I decided to let the flat I hadn’t realised it effectively meant me moving house, which has been a royal pain in de ass. Still, my lovely friends the Strachans and the Mathesons have put up all my stuff in garages and lofts, thus saving me both worry and expense. Thanks guys.
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Or, if you prefer, “It doesn’t sound like Bruce Springsteen.”

Indeed. We (the Mathesons and I) arrived in Banbury on Wednesday afternoon, making our leisurely way to Cropredy 2010. We stayed in a lovely little B&B. We drank beer in the early evening sunshine. We ate Thai food that evoked sensations of lazing about on a sun-soaked meadow, warming our bones and inhaling the sweet, sweet 6X.

Except it pissed it down. A lot. The use of the word ‘Biblical’ as a superlative is about as hackneyed as the use of the word ‘hackneyed’ to describe something that is, well, a bit, umm, hackneyed. Anyway, we didn’t expect quite the amount of rain we got. We didn’t expect it to hurt our heads as much as it did. But one doesn’t always get what one expects at festivals, and that’s part of the fun. And this was a weekend, my friends, when nothing sounded like Bruce Springsteen. Not even the things that were.

As usual Cropredy was a fine mixture of all sorts of people, music, food and meteorological extremes. Highlights for me musically were Leatherat and teh Mighty Quo on Thursday, Mabon (who arrived in bits, and mostly late, from Wales), The Dixie Bee-Liners and the truly awesome Bellowhead, about whom I previously knew absolutely nothing, on the Friday, and ahab (though maybe a little too much Eagles-lite at times), Martyn Joseph (an extremely annoyed man from Wales, once described as making Leonard Cohen sound like Julie Andrews) and of course the ever-fabulous Fairport themselves, who included a good segment of Excalibur, their Anglo-French Arthurian concept collaboration (man), in their set. Marvellous stuff.

Even in the rain it’s a great place to be, and the atmosphere was as enjoyable as ever. Truly an escape. Not much photography this year partly on account of the weather, but here’s a pic of FC in full flow:

Favourite moment of Fairport’s set had to be (just edging the always emotional Who Knows Where the Time Goes? and Meet on the Ledge) when Dave Swarbrick, watching from the wings and having sworn not to play this year, jumped on and grabbed Ric’s violin, then declared he wanted to play Sir Patrick Spens, a song I’ve never heard them do live and which Simon cheerfully admitted they hadn’t rehearsed. One short consultation about keys later, and they launched into a raucous, rollicking version which sounded pretty spot on to me. Joyous stuff.

Anyway, suffice to say we drove home on Sunday in blazing sunshine and hot, hot heat. Apparently the fields are drying out nicely. Hmm. Ah well. Bound to be nice next year, eh?

Gotta go – off to Copenhagen early in the morning (hooray and up he rises etc etc). It’s all go round here you know.

Last Thursday (12 Nov) I dashed back from work, did a quick turnaround at home and was out of the door again in fifteen minutes. Having taken a glance at the traffic on the walk back to the flat, I knew it was going to be as quick to walk across town as to get a bus, even to Lothian Road. I was to meet the Mathesons in All Bar One on Festival Square, just across the road from the (relatively) newly restored HMV Picture House, Edinburgh’s newest major music venue. Donald and Adele had left around 6, and I’d got there around 6:45 as arranged, after a brisk stroll. A few traffic-watch texts later, at 7:30 they walked into the bar looking ever so slightly hacked off. An hour-and-a-half from Bathgate – who can blame them? Unable to even raise cheer levels with a drink since she was driving, Adele especially was in need of entertainment. Truth to tell, we all were.

So after a swift one we headed over the road. The inside of the Picture House has been really well done. They’ve even retained the period squeak of the wooden doors, and added an almost unheard-of level of civility to the door staff. Presumably they’ll learn, in time. It’s well laid-out inside, but presumably tickets remained, as there was plenty of space – not the sardine-tin packed-ness I’d heard tell of from the Seasick Steve gig the other week. Despite not being sold out, though, it was a good sized crowd.

Support was from 6 Day Riot, and we caught about half their set. I know nothing about them, but they seemed pretty good and went over well. We were expecting much from Mr Lakeman, having seen him tear up the stage at Cropredy on the Friday night, when he really was on fire – an evening that will live long in the memory. He did not disappoint. Even though I thought the crowd were a little restrained at times, this stuff is big, beaty and bouncy, and it’s almost impossible not to be uplifted by it if you have music in your soul. The songs are top notch, the playing joyful and enthusiastic and the man himself both unprepossessing and infectious. I still don’t understand how anyone sings and plays fiddle at the same time, but I’m glad someone else has figured it out. One of my other favourite things about him is the extensive rack of tenor guitars he has lined up at the back of the stage, which he changes between songs on a frequent basis – very Rock ‘n Roll. I don’t know how many tunings it’s possible put on a tenor guitar, but Seth must employ a fair few of them.

As for the songs, inevitably the ones I’m most familiar with are those from Freedom Fields, with Lady of the Sea, Setting of the Sun, The White Hare, King & Country, 1643 and Take No Rogues making an appearance amongst others. Spirits lifted visibly as the evening wore on, and it can’t just have been the beer as Adele’s mood was similarly raised from a pretty low start. This guy just brings a grin to my face which is no mean feat just now. Thank goodness for good music – it can be a real soul saver, as Tim Burgess once had it. Herewith the obligatory crappy phone pic:

It was over all too soon. I must go and buy more of his records, and will take any and every chance to see the man live, that’s for sure. A real winter warmer.

I only really knew Richard Hawley‘s name vaguely from the last incarnation of Sheffield’s best-known musical heroes, Pulp. A few weeks ago I read an interview with him in the Saturday Grauniad and he sounded interesting. Then I saw an ad for his Queen’s Hall gig in my regular ticketweb email, so I thought “why not?”, it would at least give me something to do, and hey, it’s live music right? Try anything once. I went and bought his latest album Truelove’s Gutter, which proved to be much more laid back fare than I normally listen to – almost crooner-style in some places, though crucially not in your sickly-sweet Harry Connick Jr stylee. This had something grittier about it. Still I wasn’t sure what to expect.

Early signs were promising: the merchandise table featured bottles of his own-brand relish, which looked as much as anything like Worcester Sauce and had a cool old-school label. Excellent with vegetables, apparently.

Anyway, having no-one in particular there to talk to, and having exhausted my charm upon the bar staff (which, you’ll be amazed to learn, didn’t take too long…), I nipped in to see the support, Smoke Fairies. I’d heard them described by a friend of a friend who saw them in the Weeg as “wrist-slitting”, which I took to mean either awful or depressing. In fact they were neither, although their music could certainly be described as downbeat, I however found it atmospheric and vaguely haunting. There were folk overtones and lots of lovely slide guitar, the sound dominated by this and some fantastic harmonies from the two female singer/guitarists. Folk-Trance, anyone? I could imagine listening to this the morning after a long party. The lead guitarist and main proponent of the bottleneck was strikingly, almost painfully thin. She was playing what I think was a hollow-bodied Les Paul, which is probably just as well, as the 9lb-plus weight of the solid would surely have snapped her in twain.

I got the impression that they hadn’t been performing live for an awful long time, not from their playing which was excellent, both confident, laid-back and restrained, but from the little between-song banter in which they indulged. It just seemed a little nervy. They certainly betrayed their not-from-round-these-parts-ness with a story about trying haggis for the first time which fell a bit flat, but was actually the funnier for it. The voices were straight out of Wimbledon High School though, bless ‘em. I spoke to them afterwards at the merchandise stall and they were lovely. I even bought a boxed set of their singles/EP which is always a good sign for a first listen live, and it’s actually pretty good stuff too. Worth a look – I think they play more in and around London.

Appropriately this was a seated gig – I don’t think either act would lend themselves to a standing arena – this was a pretty laid-back evening all round. There was an air of anticipation prior to Richard Hawley’s appearance and he was, sure enough, warmly welcomed. Now you’ll have to forgive me, unfamiliar as I am with his stuff, for not really recalling the set list that well. However the man has some great songs and they really come to life, well, live. They seem to expand into something bigger – maybe it’s just giving them the air of a venue like this one, maybe it’s the chance for his frankly amazing band to flex their muscles a bit, but whatever, this was fine entertainment.

The contrast between the sound, which does sort of come across as a mixture of the crooner style and a grittier voice of something more country-like. Very very smooth though. Here, too, was the experience of a player who’d been round the block a few times. His chat was both easily amiable, funny and laconic. A small amount of Glasgow/Edinburgh rivalry was stoked, his conclusion being, I think, that Edinburgh were “nicer” but also possibly “soft as shit”:

He was also a pro – when the electrics went haywire (which may also have accounted for the rogue fire alarm earlier in the evening, mercifully before the show started) and they had to go off for ten minutes, it was merely taken as an opportunity to get to the bar again quickly. The propensity so to do, he observed when they returned, seemed to be a function of age – the younger more likely to have dashed to acquire another pint, the older more likely to dash to the loo to dispose of the last one.

By the end he owned the place and the crowd cheered loud and long – an encore was absolutely and righteously demanded. Sure enough they played a few more and by the end of that I witnessed the first successful spontaneous standing ovation I’d seen for a long long time. Well deserved it was, too. I’m still not sure it’s going to be my new favourite record, but I’ll certainly hear it with different ears (ok, ear…) next time, and if you get the chance to see him, take it. I think he’d be wonderful somewhere like the Union Chapel, say. Top gig all round.

I got back from The Hill on Thursday night. Lots to tell, but to be honest I’m still processing a lot of what happened and what I learned, so a proper comment on it all will have to wait for now, and I’ll get some pics sorted soon, too. Suffice to say, for the moment, that I’m feeling a lot better – more centred and grounded, and I’ve learned a few things as well, both about recent events, and those not so recent. I met some truly excellent people and along with some hard work and some difficult experiences, there was a lot of fun and laughter too, and I did my share of restin’ and recuperatin’. The Hill is a beautiful, wonderful place, run by beautiful, wonderful people.

In the meantime, I have some recommendations: I picked up a parcel from Amazon on Friday evening and it contained the new Dan Arborise album, Of Tide and Trail, which is fantastic; the new Black Crowes album, Before The Frost…, which is also superb (and contains a download key for extra album …Until The Freeze, which is more low-key, countrified fare, but still great); and finally the Crowes’ Warpaint Live DVD which I haven’t had a chance to see yet but which promises much.

So, tomorrow starts the last ten weeks of this job, and then, well, who knows after that. Only India is booked, and I’ll see how I feel after a while there. It feels a bit like I’m auditioning for my own life at the moment – I confess to being a little nervous at times. I think it’s the first time I’ve consciously (or probably any other damned way) said to myself I’m going to try to live in the moment. I’ve spent a lot of years living with a past, and a few years more recently living in an imagined future that didn’t really exist either. Always missing the moment. Not any more, I hope. Don’t get me wrong, there are things I would like in my life, things I want to happen. But for the moment I must accept what is here, now, and be ready to accept the future when it becomes the present.

So I was looking at one of my wish-listed items on Amazon when I saw this (see Product Description section). That’s me that is. Never asked, mind you, the fuckers. Still, I urge you all to go out and buy all his products. He am an star.

Just back from Cropredy, my favourite festival. I do wonder why I stopped going for so long when I love it so. Still, having been last year and this, I think it’s something I’m going to stick to from now on. This year the weather was kind and we didn’t get rained on once. It threatened once or twice, but never quite managed it, and much of the time was spent in glorious sunshine. I even have a little colour to me now, despite much hat wearing and factor 30 application.

This year Donald and Adele were already on holiday so I met them at Banbury Station after something of an epic train journey. Five-and-a-half hours is a long time to be on a train, and the book I’d chosen to take wasn’t the most enthralling (Mark Tully’s India in Slow Motion – sorry Mark (since he’s bound to be reading this…), something about it just not gripping me I’m afraid). Anyway, we found ourselves in a field armed with hot showers, which produced some fairly Biblical queues, but which were actually wonderful if one timed it well enough not to hang around for long. Luxury. Maybe I’m getting old, but it was wonderful and novel to feel clean on day three of a festival. This year’s festival group shot:

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Funny isn’t it, how things happen? There I was, just stuck a bit of Fairport on, maybe subconsciously in advance of this weekend’s Cropredy capers, and who should pop up on IM but my old friend Jane from NZ. And after a bit of a down day, she ended it with a real upper of a chat. Get this: how cool is your mum if she buys you tickets to AC/DC’s tour, which may be their last ever, who knows? Class.

Aeons ago, Jane was the person I went with to my first ever Cropredy, a weekend that lives long in the memory. And just as I was starting to think about who would be absent from this year’s, she pops up to remind me that actually there’s a wider perspective to things than that. Good.

So, tomorrow I’m out with the Strachans, then Weds is Tai Chi as usual and I have to pack a bag for the weekend, which I’d meant to do tonight but just plain didn’t, then it’s stupid o’clock for a train to Banbury on Thursday. And thank the lord for three days in a field with nothing better to do than watch fine musicians, eat good food and drink 6X, with good friends.

Watching The Bluetones’ live DVD last night (i.e. of the first album from start to finish, which they toured last year), I never before realised quite what an amazing song Expecting to Fly (a Buffalo Springfield cover) is. The things you miss when you’re not paying attention eh?

Remember in late April we saw Dan Arborise at the String Jam Club? It was a wonderful night, though it seems a lifetime away now. Anyway, today some kind soul posted links to some video from that night, so now you can relive the magic with me. The clip is my favourite song from his first album, Around in Circles.

Those were the days, my friend…