Celtic Connections

No, I haven't fallen under a Glasgow bus (or indeed any kind of bus), I have been immensely busy and keep putting off writing up the Celtic Connections experience, mainly because it transcended words...



After a relatively smooth (and surprisingly non-tedious) 10 hour coach trip up to Glasgow on the 17th Jan, I arrived at the beautiful Royal Festival Hall, where the majority of the festival events take place. I was blown away by how luxurious everything was - it felt like half- folk festival half- spa trip at times (except for the lack of sleep and plenitude of alcohol). I arrived just in time to catch the end of the Danny Kyle Open Stage opening night, where my harpist friend Harriet, a winner last year, played a set. I shall be reviewing Harriet's new album soon, so watch this space. I was immediately in heaven as we were regaled with three young bagpipers, replete with synchronised leg-kicks and other sassy moves not usually associated with kilted pipers. But it certainly worked!



The rushing-around-like-a-headless-chicken-but-in-a-euphoric-state that was to last for my entire time at the festival kicked in straightaway as I left the Festival Hall for the first official gig of my stay -Flook and Damien Dempsey at the ABC theatre, a good 10 minutes away. I was more excited about this gig than any of the others, mainly because I adore Damien Dempsey, and doesn't tour much around the UK (at least not when I've been looking). I rate him as one of the most powerful singer songwriters for decades - his voice and songs send shivers down my spine, and I really admire his strong political messages about the Irish/Celtic people and about his own past, but also the notes of courage and optimism there. Well, the gig was even better than I could ever have expected - he kicked off with the astonishing 'Masai' from his latest album which I haven't yet heard. The notes soared high around our ears, and the backing band were absolutely electrifying. I was totally hypnotised for the entire time he was on stage. I was so thrilled that he performed 'Colony', which I view as his most powerful song. I can tell I'm rambling already... Needless to say, it was hard for poor Flook to follow such an act, but they were extremely enjoyable. I saw Damien at the bar later at the Festival Club, but I lacked the courage to go and speak to him. I think it was for the best though, heaven only knows what gibberish I would have spouted.



The next day I went along to the arcade to see Harriet play a few songs to raise publicity for the Festival - it was amazing how many Glaswegians have no idea the festival even exists. Later that night was the Lewis and Harris night, which I had been eagerly anticipating, as it has been far too long since I've heard any live Gaelic singing. I was especially looking forward to seeing two of the singers there, Margaret Stewart and Christine Primrose (who I did a brief singing workshop with at the Sabhal Mor Ostaig in Skye two years ago). The night was fantastic, with some young MOD singers there as well, a piper, and a few lads from Harris who write their own material. There was a lovely mix of songs and styles and performance lineups, though it was very much all a collaborative effort, as it often is in the wonderful world of folk. I nearly died of excitement when the whole group sang a Gaelic psalm (which sounds like nothing else in the world), as I've always wanted to hear one sung live.



After the gig me and Harriet went to the ceilidh - I was so tired by this point and didn't think I'd be able to dance, but I threw myself into it and, as is the way with ceilidhs, got so into it that the late hour and lack of energy and immense sweatiness didn't bother me (hmmm, might have bothered other people though...) We met some funny Spanish guys and a lovely Scottish girl, and we all danced together for the dances and messed around and had fun (and crashed into a lot of serious dancers due to the tiny size of the dancefloor, oops!)



On Saturday I had booked myself in for a couple of workshops during the day, so first up was a whistle workshop - I had never played before, but by the end of the hour and a half we were all playing a lovely tune together. I'm always berating myself for not playing an instrument, having criminally given up the violin as a child, so it was nice to merely nod towards instrumental proficency again. That evening was the magnificent 'Travellers' concert, held in the fantastic setting of St Andrews in the Square, a converted church. This concert showcased four travellers of rich heritage (I'm sure one of them was Lizzie Higgins' daughter). The night consisted of them each telling a story or singing a song, and there was a real sense of privilege about the occasion. These people are of a generation that had unprecedented access to a world now long gone, and it was such a great opportunity to hear their fantastically weatherbeaten voices and witness their wit, humour and knowledge. Lovely as it would have been to see Lisa Knapp and Bellowhead (whose performances clashed with this gig), I made the decision to see the Travellers instead as it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. As it happened, fate was on my side - a girl, a friend of one of the travellers, got up at the end to sing a Gaelic song. As I listened, it occured to me that this was a song I had once heard Julie Fowlis sing at the Sabhal Mor Ostaig, but had never caught the name of. Since then, a couple of years now, I had desperately searched to find out what it was so I could learn it, but in vain. I waited until the end of the gig and trhen literally pounced on the poor girl, who, it turned out, was only too happy to chat away, and we ended up walking through Glasgow together. She told me that the name of the song was 'Nuair a Rainig Mi'm Bhaile', and I now finally have that gorgeous song tucked securely under my belt. It's possibly the most beautiful Gaelic song I've ver heard, and it seems to strike a chord with everyone, although I haven't heard any recordings of it (but I know Flora MacNeill did one). It's about a man returning home to find his love dead or dying, and he laments that they ever met. He calls her 'my long straight tree' and describes her lying below the window unable to hear what he is saying. I must stop now before I start filling up...

Sunday kicked off with a Gaelic song workshop, which I had been really looking forward to, as I feel like I don't get the chance to sing in or hear Gaelic anywhere near enough! There was a good turnout, and most of the people there had never sung before, let alone in Gaelic, so I had a rather unfair advantage as it meant I already knew the songs the teacher had chosen for us! It was a set of three puirt a beul, 'S ann an Ile', another whose name escapes me, and 'Ruighleadh mo nigheann donn'. When the teacher first sang them at a good speed as a set the general feeling seemed to be 'I could never learn that!!' but the thing with puirt a beul is that they are deceptively simple - well, apart from the few that are *really* wicked, that is... Sure enough, by the end of the hour we were all in perfect unison! I followed that workshop with another, this time on the Scots Big Ballads, led by Gordeanna McCullough. Again, it was a lovely friendly group, and we all looked at a Child Ballad and talked about how we would approach it as singers - ie whether to replace words for scansion's sake, etc. It was a different approach than I was expecting (ie more talking than singing) but it was actually really helpful as it made me think about how much 'work' to do before learning a song - although of course another argument would be that the songs are for the people, not scholars, so just pitch in and sing in whatever way feels right! But it was useful to consider really trying to turn a song over and over in your mind, and let it live with you a little while before it gets a public airing - I think there is definitely something to be said for that.

The final gig of the night was Scottish Political Songs, held in the fantasticaly intimate venue of The Universal Club on Sauchiehall Lane (which, may I add, took me a devil of a time to find, and so I missed the first half an hour). There were three singers, including the fantastic Anne Lorne Gillies, and the night was every bit as rousing and impassioned as I imagined (and, thankfully, not half so anti-Sassenach as I was fearing) It was quite sad in a way that Anne, who sang entirely in Gaelic, was making a point about the political potential of the Gaelic language for Scots, but I, probably the only Sassenach in the room, was the only other one who could sing along. I got some funny glances...but what's new there?! Anne sang some stormers, including 'Clo Mic Ille Mhicheil' 'Dh'eirich mi moch maduinn Cheitinn' and a Mairi Mor nan Oran song. The other two singers were fantastic too, and there were a good few Hamish Henderson songs! It was a really emotional way to end my festival experience....Or did it end there?? Meeting up with Harriet again later, we ended up at the Festival Club, not really expecting to stay long as we had to be up at 6:30 or so the next morning. I was homesick for the Half Moon, and keen to go along to the 'House of Song' session which I'd heard about, an open session held in a little room just off the Club bar. It was slow getting started, but when it did, what a session was had! Harriet played some fantastic harp tunes and I sang a few songs - rather reluctantly actually, as there were so many fantastic singers there that it was mightily offputting! There was some fantastic stepdancing from a Cape Breton man, and later we were joined by some young Scottish lads who looked as 'unfolky' as they come but turned out to be absolutely in love with it! They were shy at first but then a few of them sang some Gaelic songs and were amazing! It was so heartening that young teenagers from Glasgow were learning to speak and sing in Gaelic entirely independently, and thought it was cool. The lads were joined by some female friends later, one of whom had the voice of an angel; it was at that point that I stoutly refused to sing another note! Harriet and I stayed until 4ish (so respectable even by Half Moon standards!) and it was one of the absolute highlights of the entire festival.

The 6:30am start the next day, and the 10 hour coach trip home, was not quite so enjoyable however...

Here endeth the (rather mammoth) account of my Celtic Connections experience! You can watch some fantastic highlights at:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/scotland/music/celticconnections/tv/

My personal favourites are Griogar Labhruidh and Lisa Knapp's performances (which slightly make up for not being able to be at either of them) - and watch this space, as reviews of both their albums will be up and around here soon. Now, roll on next January...

A catch-up...

Hello one and all! I've been very tardy in blogging over the Christmas period (mainly because there are no folk clubs where I was back home!), but things are well and truly back on form in Oxford.

The Port Mahon on Friday was great fun - despite the driving rain and lack of any ale or beer (!?), the place was remarkably packed out. Lucy gave us a lovely version of the 'January Man' to mark the New Year, and Sharron played two typically beautiful songs; 'The Quiet Joys of Brotherhood' (which I'd only heard Sandy Denny do before, and of course the tune I know from 'My Laggan Love' as one of the most haunting in trad music) and her own 'Wake Up Sleepers' from her fantastic album of seasonal songs 'Right Wantonly A-Mumming' (surely one of the best album titles?!). You can hear that song and more from Sharron on her Myspace page at http://www.myspace.com/sharronkraus. Check it out!
Despite some unattractive coughing, I did manage to sing 'King Orfeo' and 'Lowlands of Holland'. The latter has always been one of my favourite songs - I first heard it through a heartbreaking version by the wonderful Dave Burland, but the tune and words I sang (with an extra verse from the Internet!) are from a verion by the great Irish singer Susan McKeown on her album 'Lowlands'. I believe she herself heard it from Lal (or possibly Norma) Waterson - I don't have the sleevenotes with me unfortunately!

The Half Moon was, true to form, fantastic for the soul and vocal chords and terrible to the liver and sleep-bank on Sunday night. There was a real mix of people there, and a great bunch of students stayed with us regular all-nighters until the bitter end. They weren't folkies but they had a real enthusiasm for the music and vowed to make the HM their 'Sunday Club' from then on! It's so nice to see new converts being made, as I remember how happy I was to find the HM. It's especially encouraging when non-folkies discover the music and can really see the power of the songs without thinking about the negative labels sometimes associated with folk - so that alone made the night worthwhile! The night was late and my memory is hazy at the best of times, so I have real trouble remembering exactly what was sung and by whom, but Dave and Ian did some crackers as always, including a great run of bawdy tunes which had the aforementioned new converts rolling with laughter. Dave did 'Shallow Brown', one of my all-time favourite songs. I seem to remember that I liked it so much we sang it again down the streets on our way home at 4am too...poor (although I am tempted to say *lucky*) Cowley Road residents...

The week is already drawing on and I'm a wee bit behind on my learning songs front. I don't even know what to learn next - all I know is I have a backlog of titles and masses of lyrics. At least there won't be a shortage! I'm hoping to learn some medieval English and French songs soon, as I feel like I should know more - after all, they're about as old as you can get in terms of traditional music, and quite unlike anything else you hear. I love Alva's Vivien Ellis singing 'C'est en Mai', and I also heard the fabulous Dorothy Carter on a Mediaeval Baebes album singing 'L'Amour de Moi', and I'd like to learn that, although I'm sure I couldn't even approach Dorothy's eerily beautiful version. Speaking of hurdy gurdies (we actually weren't, but there's one on the track!), tonight is the Chester Arms French music session, so there should be some great tunes and hurdies galore! The session is always fantastic, but it also serves as a sort of 'memento mori', as it's every month and every time I go in I feel like I've only been away for a day or so! Scary how quickly the time goes.

I've had cause to be greatly excited recently, as I've just found out that I'm going for four days of the amazing Celtic Connections Festival in Glasgow next week! My harpist friend Harriet Earis, http://www.harrietearis.com/, is going for a gig and she asked me to come along too, so I plan to spend tonight manically sorting out finances, booking transport and (most importanty) booking the gigs I want to see! I've wanted to go to Celtic Connections for years and years, but I was either too young to go on my own (not knowing any fellow folkies in my salad days...) or at Uni, the terms of which clashed maliciously with the opening of the Festival. But now I'm free as a bird, and am really excited. Everyone who's ever been has said it's the festival to end all festivals, and it certainly sounds pretty close to perfection to me - a) it's in Scotland and b) there are just 100s of gigs that seem to have been scheduled purely for my benefit, so closely do they mirror my ideas of dream gigs! I've planned which gigs I'd like to go to (there's so much on every day that you sadly have to make decisions to go to one thing and not the other), and so far from memory they include Flook (whom I've never seen but heard they're great live) and Damien Dempsey (possibly the best young lyricist/singer of the modern day - absolutely sublime), the Lewis and Harris themed night with lots of Gaelic songs from people like Christine Primrose and Margaret Stewart, a night of Scottish political songs which I can get righteously fired up over, a concert of songs and stories from travelling people, and, possibly the highlight, a Gaelic song workshop!! There are so many other people I'd like to see at the same times, like Julie Fowlis and Chris Wood, and Bellowhead and Lisa Knapp, but I've tried to stick to the ideology that I should go to the gigs that I don't think I'd be able to see anywhere else, or possibly even ever again. So the majority of the things I'm seeing will be Scottish/Gaelic themed ones, with singers that I don't get the chance to see in England. Bellowhead are thankfully appearing at the Oxford Folk Festival in June, so I don't need to worry about that, but Lisa Knapp I'd have loved to see - but then she is based in England, so chances are I'll bump into her again sooner or later. Right, now I just need to actually *book* all these gigs...
What sounds like the crowning glory of all of this wonder is thw Festival Club, which runs from 10:30 to 4am (yes, the only decent time to even begin thinking about winding up a night) every night, and features surprisre guests from the day on the stage and hopefully lots of impromptu stuff too. It won't be the Half Moon (she says loyally) but it should be stonking good fun - in fact, the majority of the raving praise I've heard about CC in the past has been centred heavily on how good the Club is. So I don't plan to get much sleep, let's put it like that! Thankfully we're staying in the same hotel as the Club, so we won't have far to stagger to bed. I'd like to think that my army-esque staying-awake training courtesy of the HM will stand me in good stead for the duration. So expect lots and lots of info about the festival when I get back (those bits that I can remember that is...)
By the way, if you want to know more about the Festival yourself, there's still plenty of tickets (as you book each gig individually), so go to http://www.celticconnections.com/ and feast your eyes....

More to come soon, the hurdy gurdies beckon!

The Vicky Arms

I had a lovely opportunity last night to go to a session that I had not been to before; a once-monthly one at the Vicky Arms, out in the sticks near Oxford. It's the pub where people congregate on May Day (which I'm excited about already!) to drink and sing and dance etc. The pub was gorgeous, really spacious but cosy, with huge windows, an open log fire and Christmas decorations galore! After getting very cold from being outside, I was extremely chuffed to find that they also served mulled wine, as well as the best (and strongest) cider I've ever tasted. But of course, that's by the by...

I'd arrived with a nice crew of Half Moon musicians, and there were a good number already there, so it wasn't long at all before the tunes started. I was very pleased to see a hammered dulcimer being played, after having only recently bought a hammered dulcimer CD and lamenting that I'd never actually seen one 'in the wood', so to speak. It's a beautiful instrument, very delicate and ancient-sounding, but it still managed to hold its own above the accordians and violins and guitars.

There were some great tunes played as expected, and also we were treated to a fully-costumed 'mumming' by some of the locals, enacting the story of St George and the Turkish knight, with Santa Claus, the Devil, a GP and a man in drag thrown in for good measure! I had never seen a mummers' play before, so that was a nice addition to what was a really cosy, friendly, festive session.

We also ad some songs from Sharron (who sang my favourite 'Corpus Christi Carol' that I've been ranting on about, gorgeously accompanied by her dulcimer), Ian, Lizzy and some other people whose names I don't know (yet). There was a very funny 'A to Z of Folk' song which made us all laugh, and someone else sang a different version of the 'Nine Joys of Mary' (a different tune, slightly different words and only seven joys included). I sang 'Bitter Withy', which, seeing as I didn't have any other even vaguely related Christmas folk songs that hadn't already been sung, was ok because it was at least about Jesus. 'Bitter Withy' is one of the most odd, but fascinating, folk songs I have ever heard. I believe Peter Bellamy / The Watersons may have done an older version, but I learned it from Lisa Knapp, possibly my favourite folk singer of these days (of which more in a later post, doubtless). It follows Jesus as a young child in England, and a miracle he performs which results in three deaths, for which Mary spanks him in punishment (well, I did say it was odd...) There is something very mysterious about the story and the phrasing, and even the rhythm of the song. It was the first time I had actually sung it, but it went ok I think.

I'm currently learning a medieval song, 'Undrentide', adapted from a longer poem, 'Sir Orfeo'. I heard the song from one of my favourite bands, the Mediaeval Baebes, http://www.mediaevalbaebes.com/, and loved the complex tune and rhythm of the song. The story is great, so I thought I'd reproduce the words here:

Befell so is the comessing of May
When mirry and hot is the day
Oway beth winter shours
And every feld is full of flours
And blosme breme on evry bough

Overall wexeth mirry anough
This ich quene Dame Heurodis
Took two maidens of pris
And went in an undrentide
To play by an orchard side

To see the floures sprede and sprin
To here the fowles sing
They set hem down all three
Under a faire impe-tree
And wel sone this faire quene
Fell on slepe opon the grene

The maidens durst hir nought awake
Bot lete hir ligge and rest take
She slepe till after none
That undrentide was all ydone
(That undrentide was all ydone)

Ac as sone she gan awake
She cried and lothly bere gan make
She froted hir honden and hir feet
And cracched hir visage, it blede weet
Hir riche robe hie all to-rett
And was reveyd out of hir wit

The two maidens hir beside
No durst with hir no leng abide
Bot urn to the palais full right
And tolde bothe squier and knight

That her quene awede wold
And bad hem go and hir athold
Knightes urn and levedis also
Damisels sexty and mo

In the orchard to the quene hie come
And hir up in her armes nome
And brought hir to bed atte last
And held hir there fine fast
Ac ever she held in o cry
And wolde up and owy

I have made a vow to learn a good number of folk songs over Christmas while I have the time, so this is not a bad start! It's the kind of song that stays in your head for days on end - the story is also haunting, being about a Queen who becomes enchanted by a fairy-tree and can't stand being back in the mortal world when she wakes, so goes mad. Cheerful stuff...but then, for folk, it's not too bad - after all, there's a nice tree in it at least.

So to conclude, 10/10 to the Vicky Arms, and I hope to be returning there next month!

A folk-filled weekend

Phew! I've just had a very busy yet highly enjoyable weekend packed full of folk! Saturday night saw me and my Half Moon-friend Dave going to the Town Hall to see Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band. It was quite a special gig for me because Maddy was the first folk gig (indeed, the first gig!) I ever went to, when my dad bought me surprise tickets when I was about 13 or so. We saw her at the Chester town hall and it more or less converted me to English folk music overnight, so it felt especially full-circle that Oxford's town hall actually resembles Chester's, with its wood-panelling and portraits etc. Mulled wine was served, and there was a lovely full crowd.
Maddy was well-kitted out as usual, in the first half with a minstrel's outfit and in the second half a gorgeous glittering orange net skirt so she could do her infamous dancing onstage. I didn't really know what to expect as I haven't been keeping that up to date with what Maddy has been doing, but the set-list was varied, inventive and by turns moving and funny. The band were tight and managed the daunting task of making some (over?)popular Christmas carols sound fresh. One of their Latin encores, sung by the whole band in close harmony, was absolutely stunning. I also had one of the great 'small-world' feelings common to both Oxford and the folk world in general - the violinist/flautist/singer of the band, Giles Lewin, looked very familiar to me, and after a few songs I realised that I had seen him perform with a wonderful singer called Vivien Ellis in a duo called Alva. The gig was over the summer in the fantastically atmospheric setting of St John's Church in Chester, and the two of them specialise in traditional songs from many different cultures, though frequently medieval France or England. Find more here: http://www.alva.uk.com/index.html
A bit of reading on Wikipedia has also informed me that Giles not only lives in Oxford at the moment, but that he is a member of Bellowhead (with fellow Oxfordians and Half-Moon regulars Spiers and Boden) and acquainted with other Half-Mooners/folk legends Magpie Lane (keep reading for more)...One of these days I really must draw a family tree of folkies!

On Sunday was the aforementioned Magpie Lane concert, at the Holywell Music Room (the oldest concert hall in Europe apparently). I had never seen the place before, and was impressed by the gorgeously sparse decor and fantastic acoustics, perfectly suited to the Magpies' robust harmonies and arrangements. I had also never had the pleasure of seeing Magpie Lane perform either, although I have some of their CDs (and know most of them through the Half Moon!). It was a faultless show of wonderfully off-the-beaten-track Christmas carols with a healthy dose of tunes, secular wassailing and drinking songs thrown in! Check the band out at http://www.magpielane.dsl.pipex.com/
I had an especial treat hearing Sophie do a breathtaking version of the 'Corpus Christi Carol' [?] with the words I wrote about in my last post. Sophie also sang a gorgeous song called 'The Nine Joys of Mary', which I had never heard before, to the tune of 'God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen'. I have just found the words from a great website, www.folkinfo.org:

The first good joy that Mary had, It was the joy of one,
To see her own son Jesus Christ to suck at the breastbone,
To suck at the breastbone, O Lord, and bless-ed may we be.
This brings tidings, sweet comfort and joy, and great joy,
This brings tidings, sweet comfort and joy.

The next ... two ... to read the Bible through.

The next ... three ... to make the blind to see.

The next ... four ... to say the Bible o'er.

The next ... five ... to raise the dead alive.

The next ... six ... to bear the crucifix.

The next ... seven ... to eat the bread of Heaven.

The next ... eight ... to make the crooked straight.

The next ... nine ... to turn water into wine.


(The website adds that this song was collected from Mr Wiltshire from the workhouse , Royston, Hertforshire in 1907 by Vaughan Williams.)

After the Magpie Lane gig I was lucky enough to meet local (well, actually, how about national!) treasure Tim Healy, who runs the fantastic Beautiful Jo record label (http://www.bejo.co.uk/), the Oxford Folk Festival, writes local history articles, performs with the Oxford Waits (http://www.bejo.co.uk/bejo/html/artWaits.htm), and has his fingers in numerous other pies. I had first heard of Tim a while back through my good friend Terry, road manager to the fantastic Martin Simpson, and since moving to Oxford, have heard a lot about Tim but never actually met him. So it was a nice surprise to see him on the ticket stand and CD stall for Magpie Lane! As a result of Tim's smooth sales technique, I ended up being very sinful and buying six CDs, which I hope *eventually* to actually get time to listen to and review on here; but for now they include a hurdy gurdy CD (you will, dear reader, be hearing a lot about hurdy gurdies, for which I make no apology....), a hammered dulcimer CD (a beautiful instrument), a Magpie Lane CD (as was only right) of Oxfordshire-based folk songs, an Alva album and a CD of tunes and songs mentioned in Thomas Hardy novels (Hardy being another love of mine). I have an awful and seemingly incurable habit of acquiring a steady stream of CDs and not keeping up with them. The same terrible affliction has stricken with me and books too, but that's another saga...

Sunday evening, post-Magpie Lane now, and guess what, we are in the Half Moon! It was my friend Lizzy's birthday so we all dressed up (Lizzy was in a ball dress, some other brave men in white tie!) and wore masks (slightly conspicuous in any other pub, but in the Half Moon anything goes). It being Lizzy's birthday was lovely enough, but it also ended up being possibly the best session I have ever spent in the place, not least because Jon Boden turned up with his lovely wife Fay. Jon used to live above the Half Moon and always pops back when he's gigging in or visiting Oxford. He was there on my first ever Half Moon session - I remember walking rather timidly in, not knowing what to expect, and hearing a familiar voice in the corner. After a few minutes I realised I had heard the voice on the radio and television many times! I am still pathetically star-struck whenever Jon appears, which is silly considering he's the most down-to-earth bloke ever, and everyone else there knows him really well, but I still go ridiculously girly. We all have our foibles I suppose, and I'm sure there are many Spiers and Boden/Bellowhead fans out there who can sympathise with my plight!
Having Jon there gave the place an extra kick, but the session was full of the usual cracking musicians anyway, and there were a good number of singers in too. I sang three songs, 'The Cuckoo' (complete with Joe Ryan's [landlord] bird noises...), 'Waly Waly' (which I also sang on Friday, but I haven't had time to learn any new songs for a good while!), and 'O mo Dhuthaich' ['O my Country'], one of the most beautiful Gaelic songs about emigration/the Clearances. Dave gave us a number of great songs as always, including one of my favourites, 'Shallow Brown', which sent shivers down my spine when the entire pub joined in on the response lines. Various Magpie Lane members joined us, and Ian and Darren did their stunningly harmonised medieval song 'Gentle Robin', which I *always* request whenever I see them in the bar! Steph and Emily regaled us with their lovely voices too. I was there until around 4:30am (I have still never been brave enough to stay for longer than that with work the next day) before dragging myself home for a few hours' sleep. As Lizzy would say, 'Don't tell me I'm burning the candle at both ends, tell me where I can get more wax!'

So all in all, a fantastic weekend which continued to reaffirm my love for the tradition and for the Oxford folk scene in particular! I really don't think there is anywhere else like Oxford; it seems to be the central point of countless lines of musical activity, and its village-esque 'everyone-knows-everyone' atmosphere constantly amazes (and slightly terrifies) me!

Right, now I'd better learn some new songs...

The Port Mahon

What better way to start off the blog with a report of one of my favourite folk sessions; Friday night at the Port Mahon. This place was the first experience of the Oxford scene when I first moved here not all that long ago, and I had reservations at first in case it was one of those dubious institutions who claim to be a 'folk club' but instead end up being a 'Best of Simon&Garfunkel night' or something. There is, I am sure, a time and a place for That Sort of Thing, but not for Trad.Arr semi-purists like me. Anyhoo, my worries were over when I first ascended the stairs to the little room at the top of the pub and heard Caroline singing 'The Banks of the Sweet Primroses'. Since then I've met some lovely people and heard some beautiful songs.

Tonight was the first time I'd been to the PH in almost a month, what with having a few weekends away, so I had been having some withdrawal symptoms. It was quiet to start off with, but by the end of the night we had a lovely little crowd, with some people I hadn't seen before as well as the regulars. Caroline very kindly wrote the words down to a beautifully sad song I had heard her sing a while back called 'The Bonny Light Horseman':

'When Boney commanded his armies to stand
He levelled his cannon right over the land
He levelled his cannon his victory to gain
And he slew my light horseman o the way coming home

Broken-hearted I'll wander
Broken-hearted I'll remain
Since my bonny light horseman
In the wars has been slain

Ph, were I a small dove and had wings for to fly
I would fly o'er the salt sea to where my darling do lie
And with my fond wings I'd beat over his grave
And I'd kiss the pale lips that lie cold as the clay

Oh, the dove she laments for her make as she flies
Oh, where, tell me where is my darling, she cries
And where in this wide world is there one to compare
With my bonny light horseman who was slain in the war.

The tune is beautiful too, I just hope I can remember it. I often find that's the trouble when you hear a song you really want to hear - you can generally get the words quite easily on the Internet, but the tune has often totally disappeared from your head by that point!

There were some lovely carols sung tonight too, inkeeping with the approaching Christmas spirit...I'm very hard to please when it comes to carols, but if it can't be Latin then medieval will do very nicely too, and we had three carols from around this date tonight; 'Coventry Carol' from Pam (ie 'Lulley, lullay, thou little tiny child, Lulley lulley lullay' etc), and a beautiful song from Isabel which I have seen called a variant of the quite well-known 'Corpus Christi Carol'. The lyrics are something like this:

Down in yon forest there stands a hall
Bells of paradise I hear them ring
It's gilded all over with purple and pall
And I love my Lord Jesus above anything
Down in that hall there lay a bed
The bells of paradise I hear them ring
All scarlet the cover that over it spread
And I love my Lord Jesus above anything
Down under that bed there runs a flood
Bells of paradise I hear them ring
Half run in water, Half run in blood
And I love my Lord Jesus above anything
By the side of the bed there standeth a stone
The bells of paradise I hear them ring
The sweet Virgin Mary kneeling thereon
And I love my Lord Jesus above anything
Down at the bed feet there grows a thorn
The bells of paradise I hear them ring
It blooms its white blossoms the day he was born
And I love my Lord Jesus above anything.

I think it may well be a variant of the 'Corpus Christi Carol' because of the 'and on the bed there lieth a knight / His wound it bleedeth day and night' lines in that which fit with this song too.
Isabel also sang a lovely version of a Robert Southey poem about a vision of the baby Jesus surrounded by flames, which I shall have to find the name of. It will involve trawling through the 70 or so of his poems on the ever-handy PoemHunter website, but now is not the time methinks.

I sang three songs, the heartbreaking Gaelic 'Mo Run Geal Og', written by a woman who has lost her husband in the battle of Culloden , 'Waly Waly' and 'Bonny May'. I really need to learn some new songs this weekend...

Greetings!

Hello all and sundry! I'm totally new to the blogging world, but seeing as how I seem to nearly always be talking about folk music to anyone who will listen (and even those who won't), it would be silly to deprive myself of the excellent soapbox opportunity which a blog provides. So I hope to be using this blog to talk about particular traditional songs that I'm listening to or learning, folk sessions and gigs that I've been to, and new CD releases etc. Feel free to join in any discussions, as the folk world is all about sharing enthusiasm for the tradition and the sense of community that having a good sing/play/dance can bring.

So for now I will say slainte mhath a h-uile and watch this space!