Octoberfest

It seems an absolute age since I last wrote about my cultural adventures; 22^nd June to be precise. The reason for my desire to talk about music and books now is mainly in response to the recent death of Lindisfarne founder member Simon Cowe. Camp Terrace reared Si left the north east and the music business for good in the early 90s, and emigrated to Canada, where he forged a new and highly successful career for himself as a real and craft ale brewer.

Si’s most famous composition was “Uncle Sam,” which remains my favourite song from “Fog on the Tyne.” Having already decided to ignore the so-called Lindisfarne Christmas Show at the City Hall this year as Ray Jackson has retired, only for Rod Clements to replace him in a less than authentic nostalgia fest, I had always thought about seeing Ray Laidlaw and Billy Mitchell’s Lindisfarne Story, but had somehow not got round to it, having twice opted to see Ray Jackson’s fabulous Christmas shows. Si’s death put things in perspective and I got myself a ticket for the almost sold out Whitley Bay Playhouse gig on 4^th October.

I’m very glad I did, as it was a fascinating show in two halves. Ray Laidlaw utilised a range of bongos, snare drums and other percussion instruments, while Billy Mitchell played guitar. Between songs, the two of them effortless narrated the story from their earliest days growing up in North Shields until Si’s death last week, aided by photos, film clips and sound excerpts from their whole career. Now as someone who adores the band’s oeuvre from “Nicely out of Tune” to “Roll On Ruby,” as well as the Jack the Lad and Alan Hull detours, I was particularly keen on the first half of the show, which ended around the turn of the 1970s. Great to hear versions of “Lady Eleanor” and “Meet Me on the Corner” as well.

At the interval, I thought this was one of the best nights I’d had all year. However, my personal preferences meant I lost a little interest once “Back and Fourth” came along. My suggestion would be, for the delectation of utter anoraks like me, that they get Jacka involved if at all possible. He could have given his side of the post “Dingley Dell” split, which was slightly brushed under the carpet. I must admit to not having heard the albums the band did from the 80s onwards; only feeling revulsion when I heard about their projects with Paul Gascoigne and the rock and roll covers album. Of course, for narrative completeness, those parts had to be dealt with. For someone without the devotion to their first few albums that I have, this would have been a 9.5/10 show, but for me it was 8.5/10, purely for reasons of personal preference. Wonderful to hear “Uncle Sam” in Si’s memory though. I may even go to The Sage shows in late November.

Other than this event, I’ve only been to 2 gigs since I last wrote about music. The first was the incredibly pedestrian and somewhat dull Home Fries Friday of the Americana weekend outside The Sage. At this stage, I remember nothing of the erstwhile charms of Caroline Mary, El Cid, Michael Littlefield or Gilded Thieves, though I did enjoy the blues shouter Miss Mary, who was accompanied by sometime Martin Stephenson collaborator Joe Guillen on guitar. After them, I cleared off to watch some cricket, with a clear conscience. Football and cricket kept me busy on the Saturday and Sunday, so I don’t feel I missed out on much. It all gets a bit samey, though a collection of bladdered Glaswegian gays and lesbians falling down Ballast Hill bank with their carry-outs, as part of Newcastle Pride, was a diverting sight. Shame the same couldn’t be said of the acts on stage.

However, the other gig I attended was a stunning evening; a landmark event in the development of a band I’ve long championed. It’s no secret that I adore anything and everything Trembling Bells have done. At last, with the release of The Sovereign Self the band are starting to get the kind of reviews, recognition and crucially, audiences they deserve. As far as I’m concerned, The Sovereign Self is the album of 2015, without question and Where is Saint George? is the song of the year. Whether they’re being folky, proggy or psych, Trembling Bells effortlessly and inspirationally scale the heights of artistic greatness. They deserve to be huge and I hope they will be; look at all their albums, there has been progression not deterioration from 2009 until now.

The best thing about their performance at The Cumberland Arms in Byker on 13^th August was the fact I had to stand at the back. You see, every other time I’ve seen them; the audience has been so sparse I’ve ended up right at the front. The vastly increased turnout meant people who’d never had the pleasure were seeing this astonishing band in the flesh before could do so without the distraction of a pissed middle-aged tramp ranting and raving in front of them…

Anyway, one tiny worry for me had been the lack of The Wide Majestic Aire on The Sovereign Self. However I needn’t have worried; this stand-out track will be the centre piece to an EP out late this year. Two other points; Alex needs to learn the proper words to The Auld Triangle and I wish Lavinia all the best on her PGCE Primary course. If she’s one tenth the teacher she is a singer, she’ll be Minister for Education in the Scottish Parliament by 2017.

I’ve bought two other albums recently; Yo La Tengo’s acoustic Stuff Like That There is pleasant enough, but it is far from being either memorable or essential. Two new tracks, three revisits, including In and Out of Movies, and a bunch of covers, played in a restrained, understated style are all absolutely lovely, but they didn’t really engage me. I understand with their punishing touring schedule and other projects, there may not be time to write a whole album’s worth of material, but exercises in treading water like this do little to widen their appeal or satisfy long term supporters. If Teenage Fanclub can take half a decade over each album, then so can Yo La Tengo.

At the other end of the creative spectrum are The Band of Holy Joy, who are undoubtedly in as rich a vein of form as their late 80s heyday. Live shows are applauded by all who see them, making my guilt at missing their two recent Teesside shows even more pronounced and their new album, The Land of Holy Joy is garnering fabulous reviews everywhere. I can only add to that, as it certainly vies with Godspeed You! Black Emperor as runner up to Trembling Bells in album of the year stakes. Together with last year’s Easy Listening, this pair of releases has established BoHJ as essential listening for anyone who wishes to understand the rotten core of current society. Johny Brown is a warrior poet of the dispossessed and his band, perhaps the first true rock Band of Holy Joy he’s ever put together, are the finest set of musicians imagine. For instance, James Finn’s guitar on the stunning Crass Harry is 2015’s virtuoso musical moment for me. If you want to buy 2 albums that sum up this year, get The Land of Holy Joy and The Sovereign Self; you will not regret it.

The other album I’ve come into possession of was my birthday present from Laura; an original Folkways release from 1955; Union Songs by Pete Seeger and the Almanac Singers, which was an augmented edition of the original 1941 version.  What a treasure; members of the American Communist Party singing songs of freedom and rebellion. Admittedly the delivery is the stentorian side of strident and this can cause fuzziness at the top notes in the recording, but I’m bloody glad I have it. However, I’m utterly amazed Joe Hill isn’t on there, but Casey Jones and Union Maid have me tunelessly barking along, with clenched left fist raised.

As far as reading goes, I’ve only managed to get through 3 books in all this time, which is frankly a disgrace. Indeed the only novel I’ve read is Texas Summer by Terry Southern; a minor, but diverting slice of southern gothic bildungsroman. Southern was a talented author and screenwriter, but Texas Summer is one of his last works, completed during his final, terminal illness and perhaps for that reason it isn’t either long or convincing enough to be a classic, though I enjoyed the wistful tragicomedy of small town USA in the immediate post war era.

I was delighted to be included in Jon Tait’s history of the Northern Alliance, which compiles exhaustive statistics with anecdotes from players, managers, officials and fans from the proper Geordie non-league. The book Goalmouth may have a restricted audience, but I’m convinced all those who read it will find it a treasure trove of recondite trivia and preserved ephemera.

The last book I’ve read is another sporting one. Jack Chapman’s wonderful account of 250 years of amateur cricket in County Durham; Cream Teas and Nutty Slack. Remarkably, it seems everyone I watch non-league football with has a connection with Jack; I used to be a GCSE English examiner under his tutelage, my pals Gary and the Hudson brothers were taught by Jack at Hedworthfield, Phil helped Jack with his research at the Central Library and Jack sent Harry P a copy of the book, which he loaned to me. It is an exhaustive, encyclopaedic labour of love and confirmed my desire to be a local cricket hopper when the wonderful NEPL starts again next April. I will also hunt down Jack’s history of Blaydon Cricket Club, where he has been a stalwart member for over half a century, as soon as I can.

Jack’s previous job was as an English teacher, so perhaps he’d be proud of my membership of Shakespeare Club at the Lit & Phil. On the first Thursday of every month, led by Northumbria academic Adam Hansen, a dozen of us, of all ages and backgrounds, gather to read the complete works, play by play, in First Folio order. I wasn’t in at the start, but so far I’ve participated in fascinating and rewarding sessions on Merchant of Venice, As You Like It and Taming of the Shrew. Our next meeting is 5^th November, when All’s Well That Ends Well is the text under the microscope. It’s free, stimulating and utterly democratic. Come along if you can…

After almost 5 decades of never setting foot in the Lit & Phil, I’m becoming a regular. There’s a talk on Shakespeare’s authorship on 24^th November and Euros Childs on 10^th December, but there was also Harry Pearson and Michael Walker in discussion a few weeks back. Knowing both fellas, having read their books and so on, it was a bit like the Trembling Bells gig; people who didn’t know their work enjoying two of the most eloquent commentators on local football in a charming atmosphere. Superb fun for free; and even better when he had a good session in the newly refurbished and highly recommended Head of Steam afterwards.

One other event of note was a talk at Northumbria University by Michael Chaplin, son of Syd, mate of Harry and who I’d last seen in the Lit & Phil. He was discussing his book; There is a Green Hill, which is an updating of his father’s 1951 The Lakes to Tyneside. Both are accounts of scenic walks in the north east, with added philosophical, political and cultural musing about the nature of the North East. Interesting Michael and the social scientist academic he was in discussion with both feel Teesside is no longer emotionally part of the North East as they align themselves more with Yorkshire. Useful to know if Boro come up and us and the Mackems go down. Anyway it was an engaging and informative event, as a prelude to the Jeremy Corbyn Campaign’s celebration do at the Irish Centre that saw an outbreak of unchecked, undialectical dancing…

So, what’s next? The Tyneside Irish Festival. Gigs by Penetration (plus an album), Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Christy Moore, The Wedding Present, Vic Godard and Euros Childs, plus some proper reading I hope.