The last day of the Woodford Folk Festival was the first day of 2009. I woke up and didn't know what to do with myself.
I ended up at the last session of FYI with Martin Pearson, which also featured Sandy McCutcheon, Kristine Olsen, Liz someoneorother1 and Alastair Hulett. Before the talking started I got chatting to the people sitting either side of me; bizarrely, this was the first such occurrence all week. Perhaps I was setting the scene for a more sociable and outgoing year. We talked about playing music and made small talk and it was not even unpleasant.
FYI itself was quietly entertaining, a good way to ease into the morning. It was more enjoyable than the resurrected version of Good News Week that has been on television in recent years, but much less awesome than the Good News Weeks of old.2 I particularly enjoyed the suggestion that someone should run "rationality awareness workshops" at the next Woodford, a welcome indication that I was not alone in feeling somewhat beseiged by woo at the festival. There were also bizarre underwear stories, and Alastair Hulett had a Scottish accent.
Then I went to see Rosie Burgess, and was immediately kicking myself for not going to every single one of her performances at the festival.
Completely unaffected, down-to-Earth, Australian modern-folk-ish music from an entirely adorable group. The violinist didn't seem terribly comfortable on stage, but a lack of showmanship did nothing to disguise the fact that she rocked.3 The drummer was all sunshine and snare, and Rosie was the charming hinge it all swung on.4 I think my eyes may actually have turned into tiny hearts when she played a harmonica solo. I was very sad to miss her recent show in Melbourne.
It turns out I posted the wrong photos of The Ellis Collective in my previous post, so I have none left to use now. Never mind, it would probably just provoke unjustified comments about beards.5 I had the odd feeling that I had heard their music before, not just the day before but going back long enough for me to have favourite songs and a general sense of familiarity. I would like to hear a lot more of The Ellis Collective. I love the well-ordered, uncluttered, subtly complex results of having so many musicians on stage without them getting in each other's way. They weren't even subject to the festival-long curse of terrible sound mixing at the Grande stage.
I just had a look at the Ellis Collective's Facebook page, and noted that they have added "Tasteful Bogan" to "Bloke Folk" in their list of descriptive phrases, and also that they have an album due out late this year.
The Wells struck me as a country-rock'n'roll-type band in the vein of The Wallflowers (at least, The Wallflowers when I was paying attention to them in the mid-nineties). Their performance didn't really click for me, although that may have been because everyone in the band was Too Hot and complaining quite vocally about wanting to get off the stage. Another blow was struck for the Skeptics of Woodford when a band member cried out "Is there a doctor in the audience? I need a real doctor!"
I laughed. Not all that many other people did.
Later in the day Dougie MacLean did the shortest soundcheck I have ever seen. He walked on, made a little bit of noise, asked for less guitar and vocals in his foldback, then walked off again. Like The Wells he was suffering in the heat, although he just made a brief reference to drowning in his own sweat and then got on with it. I think I will probably continue to have a weakness for Scottish folk music until I die. It's in my blood, or something.
In the absence of anything else to do (the program becoming increasingly gappy as everyone went home) I went on the Mystery Bus one more time. The band of the moment turned out to be The Wells, who were much more to my taste in an acoustic (and less overheated) setting. A song called "Got Love" was particularly nice.6
Between the Mystery Bus and my last scheduled performance-to-watch of the festival, I had the misfortune of sitting on a hill near something called Belswagger Morris. All my notebook had to say on the subject was:
Augh!
PIECES OF FLAIR
Were I given to such things in non-keyboard-mediated contexts it would have said D: as well. The morris dancers seemed to be entirely in earnest and their recorder was not in tune. I am all for people doing things they enjoy but being in the vicinity of such people doing this particular thing is not something that I enjoy.
Alastair Hulett and David Rovics brought up the rear as a kind of filthy-commie double header. By far the most overtly political music I had heard at the festival, which was not unwelcome. Some of Hulett's material felt a little dated and studded with empty rhetoric, and Rovics sounded a bit too much like Weird Al for me to concentrate properly; on the other hand, Hulett's amiable Scottishness and a song about Mrs someone's Army won me over, as did Rovics' moment of channelling John Darnielle and song about pirates. Also, they came from two of my favourite places in the world: Hulett from Glasgow and Rovics from Portland, Oregon.
And that was the Woodford Folk Festival. Unfortunately I was completely burned out on new music for six months afterwards, but it was packed with interesting discoveries and opportunities to take pictures of bands without getting in people's way and being obnoxious.7 A week away from reality and full of music is not to be sneezed at.
- A double bass player whom I had seen in several bands over the course of the festival. No idea what her name was and too lazy to Google her. [↩]
- I compare it to Good News Week simply because it had people talking about things and being funny, not because there was any actual link. [↩]
- More violinists should play with wah pedals. [↩]
- Charming hinge? It's just as well this is the last one of these Woodford posts I have to write. [↩]
- Not looking at anyone in particular, Stefan. [↩]
- Faint praise, but not intended to be damning. [↩]
- I doubt I will ever want to take up shooting ordinary shows.It is just not the right way to go about things. [↩]
