Marcus Mumford gets his recognition...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio1/events/mumfordandsons/

Guitars, bars & rock stars... Part 2

Now back to Swarthgill & the impending impromptu birthday gig up in the Yorkshire Dales - the link to the 1st part:

http://simonjacquesfiles.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-10-03T12%3A40%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7

The hoards having been well fed and watered, settled down in a spacious room within the bunkhouse, whilst the newly crowned "Swarthgill Swingers" entered to make their début. The hushed room was greeted by an opening track written by a buxom US Country Singer - it was a hell of a gamble - especially as I opted to play Toby's mandolin on "Jolene"...

I had in the past played such illustrious instruments such as The Flugal Horne, Banjo and Jew’s harp – but never a Mandolin – what quite possessed me I do not know however this went down better than expected, mainly due to some great Singing from Natalie

Following some Pink Floyd (Wish you were here) & The Jam (That's entertainment) it was time for John & Marie's Birthday Blues, which we had written rather in haste, with any of us not really knowing how the song went, or indeed should go. No pressure then myself being the lead writer and player.

For anyone who has ever heard a Status Quo Song – they, in the main, follow the 12 bar blues rule, and this building block of modern music phrasing has been around ever since Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil by the crossroads in 1936. Not that one could ever compare the two of course in terms of musical importance, but you get the idea.

Johnson and his contemporaries simple melody has been utilised down the years in so many songs, and it was this template that was followed for John & Marie’s Birthday Blues. This was finally delivered somewhat nervously by our rag-tag outfit to by then a fairly expectant audience that would take no prisoners if Mr Cockup arrived at the gig.

Safe to say I will not repeat what the hastily cobbled lyrics were – but for those interested – the performance is captured here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8fvl3gBNr0

Robert Johnson may be destined to sup with the devil, but at least he played a hell of a lot better than me…(I’m the one on the left btw…) but hey! it was a (re) - start!

...and what happened to Nat the guitar? That's next...

Solomon Burke RIP

US soul singer Solomon Burke, who wrote the classic song Everybody Needs Somebody to Love, has died at Amsterdam's Schiphol airport aged 70.

The former preacher turned singer had been due to perform at a well-known club in the city on Tuesday.

The self-proclaimed King of Rock & Soul was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2001 and won a Grammy in 2003.

Burke leaves behind 21 children and 90 grandchildren.

Dutch national broadcaster NOS said he died on a plane early on Sunday after arriving on a flight from Los Angeles.

The cause of death has not yet been announced.

Dirty Dancing

Born in Philadelphia, he began his adult career as a preacher and hosted a gospel radio show.

In the 1960s, he signed with Ahmet Ertegun's Atlantic Records - home to Ray Charles. His first hit record was a cover version of the country song Just Out Of Reach.

In 1962, he had another hit with the single Cry To Me, famously used 25 years later in the film Dirty Dancing.

Two years later in 1964, Burke wrote and recorded arguably his most influential song Everybody Needs Somebody to Love. It went on to be covered by artists including The Rolling Stones and Wilson Pickett.

Burke performed at Glastonbury in 2008

It was also performed by Dan Ackroyd and John Belushi in the 1980 film The Blues Brothers.

Burke was inducted into the the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame in 2001, the same year as Michael Jackson, Aerosmith and Island Records founder Chris Blackwell.

His career had something of a revival the following year with his record Don't Give Up On Me, where he sang songs written by artists including Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson and Van Morrison.

It was named best contemporary blues album at the 45th Grammy Awards in 2003.

Burke, dubbed by legendary Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler as "the best soul singer of all time", continued to perform and played Glastonbury's Jazz World stage in 2008.

Earlier this year, he performed in Gateshead, Exeter and London's Jazz Cafe, spending all of the gigs seated in his specially made throne.

In an interview with The Telegraph, Burke said: "As long as I have breath to do it, I'll sing, with God's help."

....I saw him once in concert & had a voice that broke the room into rapputios applause... a true great!

A recession in sweeties...

To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies

York Downs & the Promotion of Blackpool FC

The first day of York races - what a day to visit the downs of said town with Mollie dog - we stumbled into an arena on a packed express train, full of wanna be toff's, tarts & toss potts...

...it was just the beginning of an strange old day...

Played out with radio commentary of a west coast seaside resort gaining Premiership status, I had many issues to deal with - mainly as the train glided into York Rail station, the doors opened and Molly slipped her collar & bolted off the train, running away up platform 2 on the fine famous York Station... My bag was still stacked amongst many others on the train which was ready to head off to Newcastle at any moment. I had to choose between the two, very quickly...

No contest...sprinting faster & faster past the shuffling race goers dressed to their nines, down the platform to catch Molly dog, I flung myself at her in the 1st rugby tackle I had performed in many a year... Huffing & puffing with Molly cradled in my arms, I re-boarded the train, swimming against the crowds much to their consternation, still trying to depart the carriage, . After some choice words from a lovely chap, I managed to salvage my bag from the train and sat panting on the dirty platform, that's me, not the dog. After getting my breath back we finally strode into town and off along the river Ouse, my nerves still shot and heart still in mouth. The day got hotter and we sweated in the meadows until we came to sit by the wondrous river Ouse. Blackpool's remarkable promotion to the Premiership had just been sealed as molly swam in the cooling river and I finally felt that I could relax... "Well done all" I concured as we laid on the banks by the flowing waters...

Norman Wisdom R.I.P

1915 - 2010 - R.I.P

I was lucky enough to see this great man live in the wonderful seaside town of Sandown on the Isle of White when I must have been around 6 years old (1981), and although I remember little of his stage show - I remember laughing my bum off when he had a mad machine torture machine that he got caught up in, that included a studded mallet that smacked his arse! Saturday afternoons laid on the sofa suffering what we know know as man flu, saw Norman entertain me with such classics as Trouble in Store and The Girl on the boat he was an early film & comedy hero of mine. He often played a humble fool with a big heart, but the charm & wit that he exuded whilst capturing our hearts will endure. Have fun & keep on laughing Norm...

The night is more alive...

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day". ~Vincent Van Gogh

Not a morning person, I concur.

Lucy

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove;
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.

by: William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Stockings & Suspenses...

Have you ever been to Filey? This view from Filey Brigg, a spit of land jutting out from the east coast captured at 6am shows how remarkable this small coastal town can show its delights. Go inland for a wander, country walk and you might be struggling for a way forward - its all farmers fields & boring lanes. Apart from the Coastal path - walking in these part's is fair crap. Perusing a landmark map a way forward came in fit's & starts and we set off for a jaunt round Stocking Dale...


Whilst keeping an open mind, I wondered what I would find in this dale of hosiery, and I was surprised to find an abundance of fecund rabbits running hitther & thither, searching a bolt hole to avoid our rude unwelcoming

We sat upon a hill in Stockingdale to eat & reflect on our walk - after our sustenance I asked to the males of the group - "tights or stockings"? A grin on the chaps faces said it all...

Guitars, bars & rock stars... Part 1

Meet Nat the Tanglewood, or rather don't. Nat was purchased last year to spearhead my new found love of performing to audiences in as many random formats as I could muster in 2010. I purchased Nat in November 2009 and as you may not be surprised, couldn't wait to get her home for a good seeing to, turn up the Amp to 11 and I'm Johnny Marr, Eric Clapton or Marcus Mumford.

Choosing a guitar is a remarkably personal experience. Its not just the looks, the make, the sound that is taken into account, the thing has to call you to buy it. When selecting said item, the guitar has to be more than the sum of its parts, a holistic experience that consumes you with an indescribable sense of joy when you play, whether that be on front of a packed out audience or simply on the loo. As they say in Eastern Parts, the guitar and yourself must become one.

So back to Nat. I had been looking for a guitar like her at a budget price since I started playing in 1991, and I found her after a long search. She played great, she looked great and wasn't too pricey. She was the one.

Prior to purchasing Nat, 2009 had been a year of parties, events and weddings with most weekends being taken up with some sort of hedonistic activity. This included trips round the countryside staying with friends and celebrating many a 40th birthday.

Being a guitarist that doesn't fit into any category (aren't we all?) and detests the whole sitting in studios laying down tracks over and over again, I like to think of myself as a minstrel who goes where the wind takes me with guitar in hand and not a jot of music to read. Summer last year and a slight southerly breeze helped me on my way to Bradford with friends for a curry like no other I have ever had, but that's another story. This saw me meeting Rob who was kind enough to offer a lift to the Yorkshire Dales for the weekend to celebrate 2 mutual friends 40th birthdays. Having never met me, only via email, I thought this to be rather charming and on the condition that I navigate us there in the dark with a modicum of success, he was happy that I shoved my small Spanish acoustic in the back next to Rob's brand new black Takamine acoustic guitar and off we went.

Arriving in the delightfully remote Swarthgill bunkhouse, it soon became apparent that there were others of the same ilk that were happy to arrange a few small Jam's to see how we may be able to all play together, or not. Four strangers consisting of 2 guitarists, a mandolin player and a rather enthusiastic injured singer called Natalie who had a songbook bursting full of a wide range of chunes, were all thrown together for differing personal reasons.

Having being used to a handfull of songs regularly played with friends, with some questionable pitches and tones when so called "singing" I suddenly had the challenge of working with a very talented voice. Natalie did not know what key was best suited to her so we had a lot of work to do if we were going to pull off being the entertainment in the evening. We were glad that the house was heaving in wine, beer and many a spirit to numb the ears of our potential audience who were out doing outdoorsey things the following day, leaving the house empty for our rag tag band to rehearse, eat home made jam & toast and generally worry our little socks off.

Never short of an opinion, I threw a few easy songs into the mix, but was soon given short shrift by my new band mates raving about bunch of songs that I thought would be impossible to learn in an afternoon. Sure enough the first five songs selected were mashed up to a pulp as we struggled with key's, chord changes, tempo and varying abilities. Some didn't even know the songs (not a good idea!)

I suggested a short constitutional up the dale to clear our heads and enjoy our surroundings, my only idea so far that day which was accepted. Trudging at the back of our small group, I had a sense of the uselessness of our situation, it was like being in ALL the bands I had ever been in again, controlling, demanding, repetitive and most of all, not one bit fun. I had stumbled into an arena yet again out of my comfort zone, I lacked confidence all of a sudden and doubted that I actually wanted to do this with these people I had never met before.

I felt I had to do something to inject a bit of said fun into the proceedings, rescue our ragtag outfit from going down like a pair of lead knickers. We all sat on a grassy bank where I asked Natalie if she would like to write a song from scratch, starting now, here, a birthday song done in the format of 12 bar blues. This went down well with our group and sparked a bit of a revival and energy in our rehearsing back at the house, coupled with the sun being far over the yard arm, a few beers and our set list came together in an intense session cumulating in our new song for the birthday boy & girl and a very odd set of songs.

We felt confident but not complacent and as the hoards returned from their days out climbing, running, walking and cycling, we put our instruments down, sore from playing to socialise once again in the knowledge that we had got through one challenge in adversity together, but could we do it all again in front of these good people?...

Coming: Part 2: Nat the Guitar's untimely ending & the starting of many a shonky gig...