A Session Diary

So, notwithstanding the spectacular omission of the publication of the time of the regular lunchtime session (have I mentioned this before?), we somehow manged to agree that lunchtime was 12 – 2. On both days it was clear that a session had not been running ‘All Day’. If anybody had turned up for a session they obviously found the back bar devoid of musicians and went away muttering ‘what all day session?’. Quel surprise.

As it was an open session, it was only fair to let anything happen as long as it didn’t frighten the horses or make the ladies swoon. That meant mainly tunes and a nice mixture of English and Irish and a few songs thrown in as well.

Both days were relatively well supported and had appreciative audiences. There were certainly enough musicians to make a jolly noise and as usual, it was a go-round-the-group session, giving everybody a chance if they wanted it. Only one person ignored this protocol during the entire proceedings of both days. Everyone else was polite and realised the democracy fought for so bitterly in the famous *Session Wars of the 1960s was a valuable commodity.

So, on Saturday, Pete and Eric were already installed (one half or possibly two thirds of the Iffy Band) when the core posse arrived (Shelagh, Judy and myself). It transpired that the celebrated Iffy band had ceased some three years ago when Eric suffered a heart attack and had a triple bypass. So it was good to see him back playing again. Pete’s banjo and bouzouki had even more stickers on. Quite a few local regulars joined us – Gunther and Gerta, Ian the piper, Colin the concertina, Chris the fiddle, Ray the whistle, Dave (Twizz), and I’m sure many more who I can’t bring to mind. A few guests from Morris sides. The 2 pm concert lured several away so it wound down formally about then and probably carried on with a few stalwarts after I left. I went for lunch.

I didn’t spot any worriers of any kind really. No cutlery, djembes, bodhrans, string basses or any other potential criminal acts.

* The Session Wars were fought between the Amalgamated Folk Club Union (Singers Chapter) and the Allied Brigade of Sessioneers fighting for the bitterly contested and highly prized floor-spot. It led to many barricades being erected in the upstairs rooms of pubs and in some cases, trenches being dug to the surprise of those in the snug below. The armistice was signed in 1970 at a historic ceremony of reconciliation after each side agreed to let the other live. This ended the ethnic cleansing of balladeers by highly trained squads of banjo players and the sabotage by provisional singers of many reed instruments using expanding builder’s foam or in one spectacular instance, old gelignite. The armistice agreement basically says:

1. Keep to separate venues as far as possible
2. Musicians play music
3. Singers sing
4. Musicians can also sing
5. Tables in upstairs pub rooms shall be screwed to the floor
6. Anyone singing anything with more than 9 verses or playing a tune more than 6 times through is fair game.

Of course, the cold war still rumbles on ……..

I know some of you were expecting instant updates over the weekend so first of all, apologies for not getting the diary updated sooner.

Overall, I enjoyed the weekend very much and took great pleasure in playing some nice tunes with friends.

Despite the stupendous oversight by the organisers of not advertising the sessions properly, we more or less ended up with the right sort of people at the right sort of do. And a few bewildered as well.

The Irish session on Friday night was well attended, and thanks to Andy Renshaw for coming along and showing how a Bodhran should be played. It does make a difference when there is a good rhythm going. You can imagine how our hearts dropped when a djembe player arrived! Fortunately he was one of the better ones and played quietly. Ian the piper ran the session skilfully making sure that nothing outrageous threatened the session. This included a tactful proactive challenge to a person with no visible means of instrumentation sitting amongst us. It turned out that he was a well known song worrier and eventually wondered off to find some more singers. Now at Deal, they *ADVERTISE* and *LAY ON* both *SINGAROUNDS* and *MUSIC SESSIONS*. No more hints. Next time it’s a poke with a specially sharpened banjo or a ferral Morris man down your breeches.

We played some cracking stuff for about 3 hours, didn’t empty the pub and actually got quite a bit of very positive feedback. Yes, there’s a surprise. The atmosphere was good and the pub wasn’t full of rowdies. We did miss the dancer though. Some regulars from Thursday crept in to see what was happening.

Saturday dawned and the Festival Band called. 9:30 for 10 at the Preston Street stage. A glorious setting in front of the bus station and opposite someone who apparently it is easy to upset. The set-up never goes completely smoothly but we were ready to go shortly after 10:00 with noise level meters bristling from windows and the thrum of a burger van generator (plus the griddle exhaust. It didn’t have a catalytic converter but it sure needed one. Or a filter. Or moving to the outskirts of town). Usual big band extravaganza but sadly missing drums this year. Opinion is divided about the full rock drum kit. I love it to bits but I fear that I am in a minority. Good to see Bob Kenwood, Felix – all the old Festival Band gang. I realised that I had come out without any plectrums so I borrowed one off Bob. A little tip for banjo players. Thin plastic plectra don’t make it through an hour’s gig. I used all three points of a Gibson and split each one in no time. I really appreciate my little Dunlop nylon plectra now. Bless them.

And then off for Elevenses at Havershams before the session in the Bear.

And so, avid sessioneers and followers of this strange world – more in a wee while.