Blog

I thought they were better known. Derek was a weekly fixture at Barnsley Folk Club in the mid 1970s, instantly recognisable: egg-bald head, flamboyant beard and whiskers. Yet when I was thinking about writing this, looking for background info, there was little trace....

Drop the stylus in the groove where it belongs, for the first time in years (and years and years), and the songs jump off the vinyl like old friends, instantly welcome and familiar. The lyrics come back effortlessly, and so do great stretches of stage patter. I’m...

Sad to learn that Kelly Joe’s died. More poignant because it was sudden and he was only 62 (same age as me, coincidentally, which makes the cold breeze blow across the back of my neck). He wasn’t a major influence for me, but I saw him play a mesmerising live show at...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-piU4TSF3o&list=OLAK5uy_m5GqFYt0-7FPHoYzLSTF6yx1QEnPMvyjo   This album lived only in memory until I was lucky enough to reacquire it last year. It’s long been out of print, and has never been released on CD but, fortunately,...

It might be urban myth, or it might be a genuine quote from Paderewski the pianist. He claimed, ‘If I miss one day of practice, I notice it. If I miss two days, the critics notice it. If I miss three days, the audience notices it.’ I’m no Paderewski; I’ll never be a...

The very estimable Piers Cawley runs an on-line song swap on Friday evenings. Huge fun, either to watch and listen or as a participant: chat that might amuse, enlighten or just meander, studded with half a dozen songs each. Here are edited highlights of my session...

The voice is true enough but not a thing of beauty. Harsh, even. The guitar playing is clumsy, staccato, full of snaps and rattles. The whistle playing, on the other hand, is supple and deft. The material’s a rag-bag: the album opens and closes with contemporary...

An occasional series on buried treasure for the ears The memory haunts me still. 1979, a Friday evening, at The General Elliot in South Hinksey — a folk club that, in the few years I loitered there, foster-parented Jumpleads, Magpie Lane, The Mellstock Band, and...

Time, they say, heals all things. The sprained ankle, the broken heart, the ache of loss; they all mend with the passing years. Oh yeah? They’re wrong. One pang strikes as keen today as it ever did: that my ex-wife (who I remember fondly in all other respects) took...

I do like a big band. Nothing quite like one for rousing the blood, when the brass section kicks in and the fiddles all march in time. Home Service, Eliza Carthy’s Wayward Band, Salsa Celtica, Bellowhead.  And the Irish one, Moving Hearts. The Hearts came together in...