A Session Diary

Well, here we are at the end of March. Looking forward to April and that massive St George’s Day celebration and Bank Holiday. Wait… no that bit is still fantasy. Somebody got upset that we adopted a Turkish knight. No matter that the others are a tad bogus too. St Patrick was actually Welsh (Maewin). St Andrew was THE St Andrew of Galilee. St David seems authentic though. Does it matter who we adopt then? I thought not. Should we have another Bank Holiday and a day of English celebration? I think so.

What about the sessions? Still going although there is a story to be told. Firstly the Startled Stoat on a Wednesday. Going strong with the regulars and recently, some audience of the old George have rediscovered us. The Sunday spin-offs are still going and the Mythical Beast (Bekesbourne) is the more enjoyable of the two for some reason although the Mythical Beast (Faversham) is a fair do. At the last one, there was much hilarity at the mishearing of the tune name ‘William Durette’s Clog’ leading to the postulation of a Tourette’s Jig – with words, an Alzheimer’s Reel (no one remembers how it all goes) and an OCD Waltz – which never ends. Ho hum. The things the sessioneers dream up.

Meanwhile at the Melodeon Worriers Arms, a sudden change of venue was announced. Despite the pub staying open until July before a refurb. closure and the previous tenants not returning, the session has moved to the same place as the Folk Club except in the front bar. Now I’ve never set foot in there – just heard lots of scary stories. Is this a wise move? I must summon courage and don the bright armour of Sessiondom and sally forth this week. I hear it went well with some luminaries including somebody I now know is known affectionately as ‘Mad Edith’. Never knew that before. Before the move, there was a hiatus so the session nearly didn’t happen. However some enterprising rounding up by one of the regulars produced a stunningly good session all the better for being unexpected.

I was promised elsewhere (where the Wife of Bath would have gone possibly) so I had to miss the inaugural session at the new venue anyway. That is a nice session with some good musicians although there are distractions. One week a rather drunken person took over a guitar and ruined the entire session but luckily quite late on in the proceedings. Still with musicians of high calibre nearly always in attendance, it is an enjoyable evening. You just have to help fill the coffers of Canterbury City Council with parking geld. At least some varied and interesting tunes come up, the landlord likes us and gives us drinks and the pub usually fills up with appreciative listeners. A little cramped at times and a little warm (if wedged between the real fire and the radiator) but a good atmosphere.

Roll on this weeks sessions!

Sessions go funny around festival time.

I have a theory that the concentration of Folk in places like Broadstairs (or Sidmouth or Whitby or any of the others. Cambridge doesn’t count) actually warps Folkspace. Of course there is the natural gravitational effect of Folkies gathering on the doorstep and the opportunity to play some different tunes with some nice players. But what of the regular sessions? The warp in Folkspace does things to those too.

In the past we have always foregone the regular Wednesday Irish Session for just this reason. If there has been a session at or near the Festival, some of us may have gone to that to feed our habit.

Well this year, a session was organised and many of the Irish contingent made the trek to Broadstairs. When I arrived, the Irish music was in full sway and I was eager to get started. There were a few of the usual Festival Session Worriers there but they aren’t usually a problem. I was waved rather dramatically to a seat by the others only to be beaten by what looked like an itinerant. Well sleeping rough at any rate. I ended up eventually sat next to him. Definitely rough. I wish I had taken the other offer of a seat near the wall.

Once established, he had the gall to complain about Irish Tunes. At one point he seemed to ask me if minded him sat there. ‘Not if you’re going to play’ I replied. At which, he pointed to a melodeon. Oh joy, I thought, itinerant, rough and 3 Morris tunes. There was obviously something going on here that I was not aware of. Some discussions ensued involving the landlord and as a result, from the Irish contingent, One left, One disappeared, One went to see a friend who was performing nearby and it was clear we were leaving. Were we not welcome? Wrong sort of music? What seems to have happened is that the landlord had agreed to let any musician use the bar (unaware of any differences) and a particular cohort had taken that to mean they had rights to run a session every evening

I pottered over to the Lord Nelson where I met a fellow sessioneer and had a jolly nice time playing English tunes with Life and Times who ran a proper session going round the assembled musicians. At half time we were treated to a Rapper dance from a scratch Geordie team (may or may not have been Tyne Bridge) which was very good and danced to Irish music! There were a number of interesting tunes and a tenor (yes, tenor) banjo player who played finger style and very well too. Never seen that before