Our first attempt at attending a Folk Festival in earnest, although we're not ready for camping out yet, but this one is on our patch, so we were able to drive in each day. Saturday we started late after a difficult night, so by the time we had parked it was too late for the daytime programme, but this didn't matter at all, within minutes we had met friends and stood talking, drinking and enjoying The Witchmen performing Morris dances in the Black tradition - i.e. with attitude.
In the evening we were really torn between the sessions going in the Olive Tree and the concert in the main marquee. In the end we went for the marquee (and missed a legendary night in the pub in the process!) and arrived just in time to see the future. The future is called things like Heyfeva and its in good shape. Three lads, they can't be more than 15, playing fiddle, accordion, keyboards, guitar and rocking out like they've been at it for 30 years - fantastic stuff. They even managed to do a theatrical ending as one by one they left the stage leaving the poor pianist all alone for a few agonizing seconds before he stopped playing and they burst back on to take the well deserved applause.
We also saw The Waite Collective, a mother and two daughters singing in close harmony in fine style, Tom Lewis who sang sea songs in a big voice, Sean Cannon previously of the Dubliners and his son, both of whom were a delight, Sean playing Durham Jail much better than Jez Lowe had done a few nights earlier (see elsewhere) and his son gave a brilliant rendition of Rainy Night in Soho - again the future seems safe.
Bernard Wrigley was much funnier than we'd dare hope - his bass concertina providing a memorable sound or two!
The end came a little disappointedly with a lackluster performance by the Poozies, and that cut back due to lack of time. It could have been a really good set, but the gaps between the songs while they changed and retuned instruments were lazy and the introductions a bit vague, including a contradiction by one member about what the next song was all about after it was explained by another. One of the harps had a section that came over as an electric bass, but this seemed to dominate an otherwise delicate sound, and often it seemed to be just plain wrong. Gill commented on this too.
Later we found out that the session in the Olive Tree was perhaps the best ever - well according to Brass Tacks John it was the first one that kept him out of the Marquee, so it must have been good.
We had a good time on Sat night with some people from Rhuddlan, we went back to their tent after the pub and everyone was singing and playing instruments. It was pitch black and they had a small fire under the gazebo, they were mostly drunk, it was really funny. They
called Mally 'Fid' because they thought he looked like Fidel Castro, which he did! A welsh couple appeared out of the blackness and sang the most beautiful welsh folk songs in close harmony, then later a Texan bloke turned up and sang 'Help me make it through the yard' and others in a similar vein! Very funny! Annie, one of the group, played a tiny sailers squeezebox, in fact it was so small she could play it in the pub making no apparent movement so that you couldn't see who was playing.
Sunday we arrived and stumbled upon Shay and Jenny guarding the campsite, and within an hour we'd spent money on a Bodhram at Pete's tent - a fascinating emporium with lots of vintage accordions and other delights, including an indescribably delicious looking hand made guitar from the 40's complete with original case and a period copy of News of the World as a liner. It had been owned by man who used it every week in a jazz band, but had lain in an attic for years since. There was also an old hammered dulcimer which everybody had a tentative bash at, but it was Mally that got the best from it later in the day.
Naturally we had missed a good blues session in one of the pubs, and a "cracking" Irish music session that finished just as we arrived.... So we drifted around enjoying some bluegrass under the pagoda and moved on to the Social Club for the evening where we enjoyed Mr Pantin ( see separate), but felt that the following acts were a bit dull, so we went home about 10:30.
Our Texan crooner met us on the way down the hill and told us about the closing ceremony about which we knew nothing, but it was too late for us by then.
I don't want it to end on a downer though, we had a good time and heard some great music, certainly met some good friends and enjoyed the sun while it shone.
The barman in the Olive Tree reckoned that 9000 pints of beer had been consumed by Sunday tea time.....
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