“Worried Men, Flightless Birds and Jet-Lagged Ramblers”

 

FaB Club Night – Thursday 25^th May 2006

 

Featuring Pete Morton,

 Adrian May and Mikanora

 

 

Back at the Orsett Cock, half past eight on a warm(ish) Thursday night, and about 30 of us swelling the bar takings and buying Claudine’s raffle tickets – yes it’s a once a month FaB Club Night. I’m sitting behind the wall in case the artistes don’t like the review, equipped with a pint of Diet Coke and several pens, and we are ready to roll.

 

In the usual longeur caused by getting here too early it does occur to me how many different moods can be conjured up by one man (or woman!) with an acoustic guitar – it’s a very versatile instrument and leaves a lot of space for interpretation, depending so much on the person doing the playing. Electrics aren’t quite the same thing – almost anyone can unleash a given sound given the right box of tricks.

The relevance of all this is more focussed when we study the three acts in place tonight – Mikanora’s almost traditional take on the folk genre, Adrian May’s easy English confidence, and Pete Morton’s more intense interpretations.

 

Time to stop pretending I know what I am doing and to write a review of those who do (know what they are doing, that is, rather than knowing what I’m doing). And before we push this convoluted simile any further, let’s get to it…

 

2041 and we are getting under way –

 Mick and Nora making the necessary announcements before squabbling about who is actually supposed to be saying (or explaining) what.

The two of them are quite clearly impressed (but not out gunned) by the quality of the bill they are to introduce, and waste no time in getting the show under way.

 

Mikanora

 

The first band up are indeed the ever dependable Mikanora.

 

In Almost Every Circumstance - Their first song is based on guitar and accordion, in a gently rolling pattern – a classic and familiar example of soft English 60s folk. The lyrics are working their way through the week – but of course Thursday never comes. Nora descants on the refrain – and indeed the FaB ‘ghost chorus’ comes alive again (someone is singing but you couldn’t tell who).  A nice easy introduction to the evening’s entertainment.

 

 Worried Man comes up next (“and sung by one” we are told). As they explain, much of the folk revival was originally driven by the skiffle movement, and this is an even more familiar song. We have a change of tempo, with Mick and Nora swapping guitars and bringing in the mandolin.

The chorus are in good voice for this one too. At this point I observe that Simon (doing a sterling job mixing the sound) has moved a mike stand to assist them, so the performers are now hemmed in – but this is modern folk in a modern context. Having said that, the PA system is warm and supportive and fills the room comfortably.

 

That’s it for Mikanora and it is a shame to pull them up short – it seems to me that they were just getting into their stride, but time is pressing us here and we have too many good things to squeeze in before the 11 pm curfew.

 

Mick and Nora then introduce Adrian May, of whom they first had sight at their first folk festival in 1990/91, in Walton.

Nora even bought a copy of a cassette called “Hearts and Flyovers” (and at least one of tonight’s songs lives on this album), as well as a less legitimate cassette of which we will say no more!

 

Adrian May

 

Adrian May casts a curious impression – absolutely unassuming looking and with a ¾ size guitar. He has an almost diffident air, almost as if he’d wandered in to the place by accident – but this belies his ease and quality of performance.

 

Simple As The Need. His first song is careful, delivered in his dark voice which is evocative and grabs (and repays) careful attention. His guitar is a constant presence with a ringing pattern, capo on the 2^nd fret and with mobile chord work.

Hello, ghost chorus. “Reassure ourselves/we are human and we look for love/just to stop ourselves from turning into stone”.

 

There is a pause while Simon abandons the mixing desk long enough to take the necessary pictures – you have to be multi-skilled in this modern world!

 

Adrian points out that the song can be found on a downloadable album, which can be tracked down by Googling him – he admits that he Googles himself, which is a peculiar modern habit!

 

 Big Teddy, the next song, was written sometime in the 90s, and chronicles (lightly) the problems when performance starts to –what shall we say? – recede a little, hence once a night becomes more common than several times. It is based on a lilting guitar line and a swaggering blues bent backing. How many rhymes can he find for teddy – well, several, including one which is unexpectedly topical – being “I’m one of the Dreamers but not the late Freddy”.  He also can’t resist the predictable but still striking “be a Teddy clothed/or teddy bare” but that pretty much gives you the flavour of the song…

 

Adrian’s in between song patter is equally laid back, an example being that due to popular demand he doesn’t play very much (he actually has a better justification in that he spends a lot of time lecturing); or equally that he’s just received a lifetime underachievement award that they don’t tell you about, but that you have to find out for yourself. And while we were thinking about that he moved into his next song.

 

Flightless Bird - This song refers back to a programme made by the late Douglas Adams called Last Chance To See; so it is simultaneously something of a metaphor, simultaneously  ecological and also self-reflective. The guitar is careful but unobtrusively pushes through a repeating figure – and people are spellbound.

 

On The 339 refers back to a bus that used to run between Harlow New Town, Epping, Ongar, Brentwood, and Warley – and by the sound of it half the rest of the county. Apparently one driver from the depot bought the cassette and song was very popular in the canteen – so he clearly got the target audience right with this one. There are shades of one J Thackray (or another R Digance) here, with lines like “if you fancied fiction then the timetable would do”, and the suggestion that if you were late for Judgement Day then you had an automatic automotive excuse.

 

Mick makes the next introduction – explains that he saw Pete Morton at Whitby and has followed his work since.

 

Pete Morton

 

Pete arrives accompanied by a new(ish) CD called Flying An Unknown Flag, which is available from his website, and which forms much of his set for the evening, along with a few of his better known pieces.

 

Great Gold Sun – takes us back to the early days of the camera (cf the Lost World of … whoever they were on BBC4 last week).

 

 It’s a picture of social history around 1905, features strong strumming, what sounds like a walking bass line (actually directed strumming, bass heavy), with a strong and intense vocal, well able to break the metre when required (which is always a good thing in folk music as it stops the pattern getting oppressive). It also flags up one of Pete’s great strengths, which is his grasp of the everyday minutiae that make for mood and get hold of the imagination.

 

An acapella (i.e. unaccompanied, if like me you can’t spell) verse, a rousing ending, and on to...

 

The Luckiest Man – which was a song written as a gift to his parents – starting from the day they met in 1946/47. The song is strong on the onbeat, effectively a 6 over 8. pattern (which is almost a signature rhythm and one where he is comfortable and most expressive. Another song which picks up small details and makes a story of them. There is also a strong and evident use of dynamics.

 

We are, he says, gradually heading for the 21^st century but first stopping in the 1980s for…

 

The Busker’s Song – which has a slightly idealised story, based on an incident when he bumped into someone he used to know, and with whom he used to be in a punk band. It reflects the truism that people who were inseparable at school often go their separate ways as soon as school is over – in this case, busking on the continent. The song is a change of style, almost spoken not sung – but you just gotta show respect for someone who can “play Ramones songs/faster than the Ramones” or “A jetlagged rambler losing time” (and that’s the title of this piece justified – go on, go back and check for the other two. I’ll wait).

 

Are you back already? OK, we’ll go on.

 

The Two Brothers – now we move into the 21^st century but not on the happiest note. “I don’t care who started it – recasting the modern Middle East struggle as a squabble between kids (which is certainly a memorable simile). I used to think that it’s a bit risky to play a song that’s so obviously making a point about things which other people will find sensitive – on the other hand, if the songs don’t have a point then why is anyone singing them? Meanwhile the song itself has a strong progression from a quiet start to a powerful centre and then down again. It’s a real midnight song which would creep out of your stereo and make you jump.

 

The Post Office Queue – a far less serious song which originated when he was stuck in just such a queue and got a chorus, standing there for a long time and needing some verses so he picked on the other people standing around. The 6^th string is tuned down – and we’re back to that rolling 6 8 or 12 8 again. Pete intersperses the pleasant electronic voice which announce the number of the next free cashier and we meet up with, variously, Jamaica, George Formby, a drunk, and a box going to Brighton. This is another sharply observed song and I particularly liked the idea of the system making such strenuous efforts to “make sure that it’s me/when I’m not over sure myself”. Now THERE’S a feeling we all know…

 

Further – Retuning the sixth string, this song comes in as a request from himself. It conjures up walking around the flatlands of Lincolnshire, around “these small towns/with the Danish place names”. Musically, the capo is high up the neck and changes the resonance of the guitar – it’s a steel string instrument but sounds much lighter). The picking is lighter and treble heavy. Pete describes it as being full of ridiculous optimism which is perhaps a little unfair. The song has intensity but is perhaps the least convincing of the songs so far. Personally I find that his songs are stronger when he picks out images and ideas more strongly and precisely (see Another Train, later) but that is, of course, purely a personal view.  

 

Harvest - Another retune heralds another optimistic song from the new CD. This time the capo splits the difference and allows for a rhythmic strum, and a rousing and uptempo end to the first half. He’s got people singing along again, all about being optimistic and resilient in the face of trials and tribulations. It has an acapella (it’s that word again) verse (something of a trademark, I think), and he is hammering on a chord at the start of each bar and keeping time.

 

AND THAT’S THE BREAK – time to fill the glasses, stretch the legs, visit the porcelain facilities and then find our way back again in time for the raffle (what would FaB be without a raffle?). It hardly seems a few minutes before Mick hustles us back to our places and away we go again, Pete professing surprise (he didn’t think he’d get away with it THAT quickly, did he?)

 

The Shepherd’s Song – This is a walking song - London is calling, birds are singing and publishers are doing whatever it is that publishers do – moody and pastoral but just a little unreal. It is one of those songs of which folk is so fond but which does tend to conjure up a scene and a world which never really existed. Well performed and convincing, though – a real wanderer’s song – feeling out of context and looking at things laterally. Help! Ghost chorus coalesces (which he acknowledges).

 

Pete then explains that it is reflecting the life of John Clare, the “People’s Poet”, although he never actually walked to London as described. Pete DID walk from Leicester to London – it took 3 ½ days – but Clare apparently went in the opposite direction, from an asylum in Walthamstow to Northampton.

 

Constant Motion - is a song from a long time ago, including the view “How easy it is to get closed in, labelled and limited”. I am reminded of the Buddhist concept that you can never step in the same river twice. It is a very deep and soulful ‘sing out’ song, with a 60s/70s feel.

 

It’s not helped by a loud and raucous backwash from next door – one of FaB’s few curses is sharing the premises! But it doesn’t last and we can concentrate on our guest again.

 

Corruption Country- has a rolling minor riff and hammer on, with a rhythmic strum and muting – and an invitation to choose which country you think it is. “Corruption Country/done me wrong” – too many possible choices for me to make a call!

 

I’m In Love With Emily Dickenson – apparently we’re back to Dead Poets Society. The mood is inspired by John Clare again, although the lady in the title lived about 150 years ago in Amherst, Mass. – hence not very available! The strum is bass heavy again. I’m left reflecting that people still live on through their works (and by striking something in someone else), surviving in the “space between the words”. This is a very strong piece which carries well.

 

The Battle Of Trafalgar – conjures up a local pub full of local people getting pissed – one of those places you can go in and you are all best friends for 6 hours. The odd thing is that Pete had the possible horrors of genetic engineering on his mind – hence the verse about old style people and the confidence that science could never clone people like this in a million years. And all done on a 3 chord turnaround too – in fact, it reminds me of the Midnight Special – well, an exuberant modern version of the same, anyway.

 

Shores Of Italy – Based around reading in the paper about people trying to get to Europe from Africa, and a particular incident of tragedy, but also about living in the civilised West and losing your (moral?) compass and not knowing where you are going. The song includes reference to “…flying an unknown flag” and someone has obviously bought the CD already because there’s an enthusiastic backing.

 

 Six Billion Eccentrics – starting from the principle everyone is strange – sounds good to me! – the song celebrates the fact that some 6 billion eccentrics walk the earth! Having described someone as the best thing since sliced bread he goes on to describe them as one slice short of a loaf… and we are short of many things – a crate, a picnic, a room, a head-dress or a doner kebab were the few that I managed to take a note of, but I have never heard quite so many variations being wrung out of the same basic idea. A very modern song with a very rustic (to me ri fol diddle aye day) refrain. I hope I’ve got that right because my spell-checker has just had a seizure…

 

11 pm duly strikes but every one is applauding and we manage to persuade Pete (and the landlord) into an encore just the same.

 

Mick renders the necessary thanks to everyone involved, and draws Pete back for the last song.

 

Another Train – Pete describes this as being his one big hit in a humble way, and it has been rerecorded for the new CD. It is a carefully picked song which we’ve heard at FaB before, and carries a message that there is always hope, always another chance.

 

The song builds up to a more “authentic” (no, that is not remotely the word. Do I mean traditional? Recognisable? Maybe just singalong!) chorus and it’s all over – a very interesting and worthwhile evening with a full and mixed bill, cleverly paced and professionally delivered.

 

And that’s where I sign off – noting that all the performers took the time to announce the titles of their songs (and made this reviewer’s life much easier) – so thanks for that!

 

The evening was as ever organised (and front of house resourced) by Claudine, the music efficiently and effectively engineered by Simon, enthusiastically compered by the plague of spell-checkers everywhere Mikanora, and the whole thing reviewed by Gordon

 

Thank you and good night!

 

 

 

 

GDS

31^st May 2006