And two went to Leicester seeking fun and music. Which we found in anarchic abundance...
Firstly, to the lunchtime session at the Phoenix to see the boys: Tom Kitching and Gren Bartley. Since we stopped doing the Nottingham gig a while back I haven't seen much of them - as rising stars on the folk/acoustic scene they have been busy throughout the festival season. The venue is a smallish room upstairs but with plenty of light via the glass walls/windows to look out over at Newarke Street and beyond. A family gig, parents and children having lunch in among the music crowd. Tom and Gren played with fire and surety, a different set to the usual one I know and better for it, the pacing tighter. Tom is an alpha male fiddler who takes no prisoners but Gren's voice was up to the task – it seems to grow stronger every time I hear it. His guitar playing as dazzling as ever... You can almost measure the rise in their confidence and maturity earned on the road these last months (starting from an admittedly pretty high base). Some new songs and tunes – an assured set in a venue which can be distracting – they rode it out in style. What they need now to pull out ahead of the pack are a couple of 'bangers' – anthems to define their sound like Pete Morton's 'Another Train.' In my opinion...
On another level -we had had a rough day previously, catching up on gossip after various returns – so the (albeit) brief curative powers of alcohol were sought out. After a brief word with Gren and with the bar soon shutting - off to the Criterion to seek more music.
A pleasant surprise – it's a nice pub but sometimes the Saturday afternoon music can be be a bit deadly. Earnest and dull singer-songwriters... Today – the redoubtable Bob Dayfield was present with a band of guys whom I didn't know, going under the collective umbrella of Alternative Medicine. A line-up of front man on hand drum buttressed by electric keyboard and bass and acoustic/electric guitars – swopped round liberally during the set between them. Bob is a wonderful guitarist who can switch from slide to fingerpicking and back in a variety of Americana/blues styles. And did. Perfect music for the day and time – light but with a tough enough core, the keyboard giving out bluesy washes to add timbral and harmonic diversity. The material – covers from the r and b/blues book – Sam Cooke to Jimmy Reed, lightly channelled rather than blackface (my new measure of white blues, to be elaborated on elsewhere). The hand drum – because of drink taken I had a sudden giggle to myself when I saw it as a flash of Stan Freberg's gleeful destruction of the 'Banana Boat Song' crossed my synapses. 'Too piercing, man.' I've never taken bongos/hand drums very seriously since. But forget that irrelevant and unkind thought – he sang well, as did all the four and added some rhythmic variety which held the performance together – a full kit would have been 'Too loud, man,' in this relatively small space room. The room filled up gradually but we had to go before they ended... apologies to all whom we know but didn't talk to – but we were on a different mission. Just to mention, belatedly, I saw Bob D the other week play a masterful solo gig at the Acoustic Club in Loughborough. Meant to write a review but have just not had time recently. So here's a photo instead – of a better quality than yesterdays selection here (I forgot my camera and relied on my mobile phone – a bit blurry, but that could have been hand-shake...).
Today – the suffering, of course. If poetry is 'Emotion recollected in tranquility,' (via William W), I wonder if gig reviews are sounds recollected in pain. We certainly had the spontaneous overflow of powerful drink, to loot and bend from the poet yet again. Aspirins, nurse...
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