Wednesday March 10th 2010
Before we started playing, some very nice people asked me about the history of this kind of music and I tried to tell them as briefly as possible something about acoustic blues. It occurs to me that this might be something worth doing on this blog, as it’s wrong to assume that everyone who comes, or indeed everyone who plays, necessarily knows a huge amount about the subject.
Add to this the fact that it’s come to my attention since I got involved in all this after a lengthy hiatus that a number of people think that ‘blues’ automatically means formulaic electric music with lengthy loud guitar solos. So I’m going to attempt a potted history. Musicologists and ethnomusicologists need not leave comments about the yawning gaps in this, or its oversimplification. So here goes.
The music known as ‘blues’ really began in the first decade of the 20th century. People in the rural parts of a couple of southern US states, principally Mississippi, performed for the entertainment of the locals on plantations and in towns and cities. Their repertoire consisted of their own takes on various songs, including work songs and field hollers sung while working in the fields and while in prison work gangs. The songs contained elements of all sorts of what we might now call folk music, country music, ragtime and spirituals. Learned people have written books about how African influences exist in the scales and general feel of the music.
Along came recording, for the story of popular music evolves alongside the arrival of ‘gear’. In the 1920s, the newly formed record companies decided there was a market for the music these people were doing, and they sent people out into the rural areas to record them, often in hotel rooms. These records were marketed as ‘race records’ – they were cheap, available in local stores and aimed solely at black people. Through the 1920s and 1930s, the ‘great names’ of the blues recorded, often prolifically. For one reason or another, some are better known to us now than others. The Premier League of this period consists of Charley Patton (probably the first ‘bluesman’), Son House, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Skip James, Blind Blake, Mississippi John Hurt, Blind Willie McTell, Sleepy John Estes, Blind Willie Johnson and of course Robert Johnson, among others. If you don’t possess music by all of these, you need to rectify that error sharpish.
These pioneers weren’t wedded to the 12-bar pattern by any means. It evolved fairly early in proceedings, but was by no means followed rigidly by these artists. A lot of their repertoire was based around the I, IV, V three-chord menu, but there was considerable variety in how they used this, and plenty of material following the more complex patterns of ragtime.
It is worth pointing out too that none of these people were remotely famous by any serious definition of that word. They eked out a living playing on street corners or at local parties in juke joints or at fish fries. They were itinerant, roaming the area playing from place to place and living on their wits. There were no venues to hustle gigs at for this kind of musician, and nothing resembling session work. The action, and the greater fame, lay in a whole other thing known as blues at the time, which tended to involve female singers, big bands with jazz-type arrangements and something resembling hit records. The solo male bluesman, travelling around, recording for nickels and dimes, wasn’t really on the commercial register. Hardly anyone at the time had heard of the now legendary Robert Johnson. That all came later.
People left the land during the 1940s with the arrival of mechanised cotton picking. They went up north to the industrial cities, mainly Chicago. At this point comes another development in ‘gear’ – the electric guitar. The guys who were still active (some of the originals had died, others had given up) turned to the louder, beefier sound of the electric, and with that came developments in the music itself. It got more rhythm based, and it started to be played by bands rather than solos. The band set-up still standard today was first adopted by such artists as Sonny Boy Williamson I in Chicago and of course by Muddy Waters. These electric bands were playing what became known as ‘urban blues’, as opposed to the ‘rural blues’ or ‘country blues’ played by one man and his acoustic. ‘Country blues’ should not be confused with ‘country music’, the ‘country’ means rural and the term actually means ‘acoustic blues’.
The big names in the electric blues in the 1950s were in Chicago and recording for the Chess label. They include Muddy, Howlin’ Wolf and Sonny Boy Williamson II. They played in clubs, people danced. It’s worth pointing out that very little of what they did was in strict 12-bar formula, and none of it had lead guitar solos as the centre piece. They were doing songs; there were guitar and harmonica breaks, but there weren’t any guitar players wincing and pouting as they appeared to be trying to extract particularly stubborn pieces of fluff from their navels. And these guys, in the great scheme of things, weren’t really famous and certainly didn’t make a heap of money.
This electric blues morphed into rock’n’roll, which is essentially electric blues in double time and employing just one of the rhythms of blues, that irresistible chugging thing. Chuck Berry’s the man here, as he (and Bo Diddley) invented the popular rock’n’roll song. British kids growing up in the second half of the 50s and in the early 60s lapped all this up. The Stones were in the Muddy/blues camp; The Beatles were in the Elvis/rock’n’roll camp. The Stones led to rock music; The Beatles re-invented pop music. They both were, in the great scheme of things, famous, and they certainly did make a heap of money.
The ‘original’, ‘authentic’ acoustic blues was by now gone, but not forgotten. In the 1950s and early 1960s, educated white folk, usually students, started to get interested in the roots and heritage of American music. One or two influential compilation albums came out (another influence of technology – the birth of the LP). These contained recordings by the original acoustic bluesmen of the 20s and 30s, and they caused a bit of a stir. Some people then had the bright idea of trying to find these artists, who had recorded decades earlier but not been heard of since. And so it was that well-intentioned people went down South and found Son House and Mississippi John Hurt and Reverend Gary Davis and Skip James and a host of others. Through the 60s, these now old men were feted at festivals and on the college and coffee house circuit, and they got to end their lives with a bit of money for their unparalleled musical talents.
One unfortunate effect of the ‘rediscovery’ period was that acoustic blues became associated in the popular imagination with old men. This is nonsense and merely reflects the lack of attention these people got when they first recorded. The fact of the matter is that the music was young people’s music when they did it – they were young themselves and so were most of their not huge audience. By and large, they were performing songs in the/their 60s they had first recorded in the/their 20s. It’s just the same as if The Stones had disappeared totally in 1972 and were now being brought back to perform Honky Tonk Women.
The Stones are quite relevant to this history, for one reason because they had the only number 1 hit record of all time that was a blues standard – Little Red Rooster (by Howlin’ Wolf originally) in the mid 60s. This was around the time of what the Americans called The British Invasion and also of, over here, the British Blues Boom. The former enabled Americans to hear of people like Muddy Waters for the first time (a US interviewer at the time asked where that was). The latter featured the likes of John Mayall and Fleetwood Mac (Peter Green incarnation) but it only lasted for a very short time and quickly gave way to a whole new genre of popular music – rock.
Up until this point, there had been no white people in the story (other than on the business side, of course). They arrived in the mid 60s, as blues was swiftly elbowed aside by rock. Rock came out of blues, particularly in the shape of Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. All started out playing blues, and all of them moved on from there to create ‘rock’, which was chiefly characterised by riff-based songs and lengthy instrumental passages, mostly lead guitar solos. Blues was the starting point but the outcome wasn’t anything really recognisable as blues music. Cream’s version of Robert Johnson’s Crossroads is a good example – the acoustic, one-man original is a song with some wonderful, dextrous guitar picking; the Cream version is a riff and a long guitar solo, with a bit of a song tacked on at the beginning and end. This laid the pattern for much of what was to follow under the name of blues.
The inventors of rock had been much influenced by the blues they heard on LPs in their teens. In particular, there was a double LP of Robert Johnson that had some commercial success in the 60s. John Hammond, head of CBS in America, went through the company’s archives and found the original Robert Johnson recordings from 1938. He’d tried to book him for a gig at the Carnegie Hall in 1939 only to discover that he’d died (a death witnessed, it would seem , by at least 400 other bluesmen, who told their story to gullible white folk for decades after). Johnson’s songs found a whole new audience, they were lifted out of utter obscurity to become the seminal influence on a whole lot of white boys who went on to fame and fortune with Johnson’s songs ringing in their ears.
These chaps, however, didn’t pick up acoustic guitars and attempt to play like Robert Johnson or his peers. Instead, they took some of the songs and used them in the rock music they were creating. Technology comes in here again – by the late 1960s amps were getting bigger and more powerful, making the loud lead guitar solo de rigueur. Brilliant acoustic songs such as Blind Willie McTell’s Statesboro Blues got mangled into electric rock workouts, the song itself a sort of inconvenience that had to be compressed between guitar solos. Acoustic blues went under the radar.
Well, after this, rock disappears up its own backside when the working class boys are replaced by chaps who had had piano lessons, and in the 1980s blues makes something of a reappearance in the person of Stevie Ray Vaughan (I gather, not knowing much about this). Generations of people come along thinking that all blues is loud electric music. They don’t know about the acoustic origins and probably not even of the pre-1960s electric origins. They are therefore missing out on absolutely all of the good stuff.
Technology again now. As CD making gets cheaper and more easily available in the mid 1990s, a torrent of artists can get their music out there. Among them are blues artists, both electric and acoustic. The best-seller lists for blues (a relative term) indicate that electric rock/blues form is the most popular, even though it has not changed at all since it first arrived in the mid 60s. Its fans seem to like the idea that it is something from the past. The acoustic scene, however, is more varied. Among the people to seek out in that field are Eric Bibb, Guy Davis, Steve James, Paul Rishell, Paul Geremia, Doug MacLeod, Corey Harris, Hans Theessink, Alvin Youngblood Hart, Mary Flower, Keb Mo and Rory Block. Special mention too for the great Taj Mahal, who has made great records from the 60s till now and carried the flame more or less alone through the 80s and early 90s. And you should definitely seek out Samuel James, the best young American acoustic artist. A mention too for our own Ian Siegal, Britain's best all-round blues artist, whose acoustic material more than holds its own in any company.
OK, we’re done now. Not perhaps an exactly ‘potted’ history but I have covered an entire century. Meanwhile, back at the Green Note, there we were, adding our own bit to all this history.
And it was another excellent one, with a good turnout both of audience and musicians. We had 8 different ‘acts’, in addition to me, as well as a number of instrumentalists.
I kicked off with the 12-string instrumental Primrose Hill Street Rag, and then did Long Long Way To Go, bringing in band members as the song went along. The band featured Ryan Carr on mandolin, Charles Benfield on double bass and Dave Forristal on keyboards (drummer Martin was ill). That’s the house band and we were joined by the very welcome presence of Will Greener on harp. Will set the harp-playing bar very high, as he always does. The five of us then did two more of my originals, Your Second Line and Sneakin’ Away.
Owen Houlston followed us, various house band members joining him on his distinctive versions of pre-war acoustic blues songs. Owen is dusting off some of the gems to be found in that mine and putting his own imprint on numbers from that era. This is a noble calling. He was also joined by Will on guitar, making his first appearance at the event and playing acoustic at a jam for the first time. He can now tick that challenge off the list as successfully overcome.
James Daniel on harp and vocals, with Chris on guitar, they delivered their now regular high-quality set, with Dave on piano an integral part of their sound as they do non-standard, often New Orleans based material. Another fine set followed as Simon threw himself with wild abandon into some excellent good-time stuff, starting with a solo number and then being joined by Dan Sheehan on harp, Dave on piano and Phil, making his debut at the event on his new acoustic bass. The major challenge for Phil was to get enough room on stage to play the thing, a problem caused partly by the size of the stage and the number of musicians on it, but mostly by the fact that Dave’s keyboard is of a size that would normally require planning permission.
Two newcomers came next, Paul and Chris, and very good they were too, operating as a duo (guitar/vocal and harp) and doing material that again showed what variety is possible under the umbrella of acoustic blues/roots. Phil came next, joined by Charles, Ryan and Dan on harp for a fine set of pre-war style acoustic blues, during the course of which I think I heard the name of Sleepy John Estes get mentioned, always a good sign I think.
Ryan did a couple of his own numbers next, going down as well as ever. He’s a big part of the success of these evenings. Finally, up got Barry Jackson and Will for a joint set, with Ryan on mandolin, Phil back on bass, and Dave. Barry was on excellent form and between them they cooked up a whole variety of excellent stuff, and people would have been happy to hear a whole lot more of that had time permitted. It was particularly good to see Will back and the thing is always the better for him being there.
There was just enough time for me and the band to round things off with one last number (Easy Does It). It was pretty late by now and next time I think we’ll have to say two numbers each to start off with so that we don’t overrun and cause the Green Note folk to have to stay later than is reasonable. That’ll depend of course on how many people come to play, and if we do that, we can try to get at least some people back up for another number later.
So it was another fine evening at this fine place, and now you all know how it all fits in from a historical perspective. Next time, I shall set a test on the history in this blog. The winner, as Spike Milligan used to say, will receive a free burial at sea.
The next jam is on Wednesday 14th April.
Mark Harrison
No Barry Jackson sketches or photos this time. If anyone took photos, they can send them and I’ll add them.
Before we started playing, some very nice people asked me about the history of this kind of music and I tried to tell them as briefly as possible something about acoustic blues. It occurs to me that this might be something worth doing on this blog, as it’s wrong to assume that everyone who comes, or indeed everyone who plays, necessarily knows a huge amount about the subject.
Add to this the fact that it’s come to my attention since I got involved in all this after a lengthy hiatus that a number of people think that ‘blues’ automatically means formulaic electric music with lengthy loud guitar solos. So I’m going to attempt a potted history. Musicologists and ethnomusicologists need not leave comments about the yawning gaps in this, or its oversimplification. So here goes.
The music known as ‘blues’ really began in the first decade of the 20th century. People in the rural parts of a couple of southern US states, principally Mississippi, performed for the entertainment of the locals on plantations and in towns and cities. Their repertoire consisted of their own takes on various songs, including work songs and field hollers sung while working in the fields and while in prison work gangs. The songs contained elements of all sorts of what we might now call folk music, country music, ragtime and spirituals. Learned people have written books about how African influences exist in the scales and general feel of the music.
Along came recording, for the story of popular music evolves alongside the arrival of ‘gear’. In the 1920s, the newly formed record companies decided there was a market for the music these people were doing, and they sent people out into the rural areas to record them, often in hotel rooms. These records were marketed as ‘race records’ – they were cheap, available in local stores and aimed solely at black people. Through the 1920s and 1930s, the ‘great names’ of the blues recorded, often prolifically. For one reason or another, some are better known to us now than others. The Premier League of this period consists of Charley Patton (probably the first ‘bluesman’), Son House, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Skip James, Blind Blake, Mississippi John Hurt, Blind Willie McTell, Sleepy John Estes, Blind Willie Johnson and of course Robert Johnson, among others. If you don’t possess music by all of these, you need to rectify that error sharpish.
These pioneers weren’t wedded to the 12-bar pattern by any means. It evolved fairly early in proceedings, but was by no means followed rigidly by these artists. A lot of their repertoire was based around the I, IV, V three-chord menu, but there was considerable variety in how they used this, and plenty of material following the more complex patterns of ragtime.
It is worth pointing out too that none of these people were remotely famous by any serious definition of that word. They eked out a living playing on street corners or at local parties in juke joints or at fish fries. They were itinerant, roaming the area playing from place to place and living on their wits. There were no venues to hustle gigs at for this kind of musician, and nothing resembling session work. The action, and the greater fame, lay in a whole other thing known as blues at the time, which tended to involve female singers, big bands with jazz-type arrangements and something resembling hit records. The solo male bluesman, travelling around, recording for nickels and dimes, wasn’t really on the commercial register. Hardly anyone at the time had heard of the now legendary Robert Johnson. That all came later.
People left the land during the 1940s with the arrival of mechanised cotton picking. They went up north to the industrial cities, mainly Chicago. At this point comes another development in ‘gear’ – the electric guitar. The guys who were still active (some of the originals had died, others had given up) turned to the louder, beefier sound of the electric, and with that came developments in the music itself. It got more rhythm based, and it started to be played by bands rather than solos. The band set-up still standard today was first adopted by such artists as Sonny Boy Williamson I in Chicago and of course by Muddy Waters. These electric bands were playing what became known as ‘urban blues’, as opposed to the ‘rural blues’ or ‘country blues’ played by one man and his acoustic. ‘Country blues’ should not be confused with ‘country music’, the ‘country’ means rural and the term actually means ‘acoustic blues’.
The big names in the electric blues in the 1950s were in Chicago and recording for the Chess label. They include Muddy, Howlin’ Wolf and Sonny Boy Williamson II. They played in clubs, people danced. It’s worth pointing out that very little of what they did was in strict 12-bar formula, and none of it had lead guitar solos as the centre piece. They were doing songs; there were guitar and harmonica breaks, but there weren’t any guitar players wincing and pouting as they appeared to be trying to extract particularly stubborn pieces of fluff from their navels. And these guys, in the great scheme of things, weren’t really famous and certainly didn’t make a heap of money.
This electric blues morphed into rock’n’roll, which is essentially electric blues in double time and employing just one of the rhythms of blues, that irresistible chugging thing. Chuck Berry’s the man here, as he (and Bo Diddley) invented the popular rock’n’roll song. British kids growing up in the second half of the 50s and in the early 60s lapped all this up. The Stones were in the Muddy/blues camp; The Beatles were in the Elvis/rock’n’roll camp. The Stones led to rock music; The Beatles re-invented pop music. They both were, in the great scheme of things, famous, and they certainly did make a heap of money.
The ‘original’, ‘authentic’ acoustic blues was by now gone, but not forgotten. In the 1950s and early 1960s, educated white folk, usually students, started to get interested in the roots and heritage of American music. One or two influential compilation albums came out (another influence of technology – the birth of the LP). These contained recordings by the original acoustic bluesmen of the 20s and 30s, and they caused a bit of a stir. Some people then had the bright idea of trying to find these artists, who had recorded decades earlier but not been heard of since. And so it was that well-intentioned people went down South and found Son House and Mississippi John Hurt and Reverend Gary Davis and Skip James and a host of others. Through the 60s, these now old men were feted at festivals and on the college and coffee house circuit, and they got to end their lives with a bit of money for their unparalleled musical talents.
One unfortunate effect of the ‘rediscovery’ period was that acoustic blues became associated in the popular imagination with old men. This is nonsense and merely reflects the lack of attention these people got when they first recorded. The fact of the matter is that the music was young people’s music when they did it – they were young themselves and so were most of their not huge audience. By and large, they were performing songs in the/their 60s they had first recorded in the/their 20s. It’s just the same as if The Stones had disappeared totally in 1972 and were now being brought back to perform Honky Tonk Women.
The Stones are quite relevant to this history, for one reason because they had the only number 1 hit record of all time that was a blues standard – Little Red Rooster (by Howlin’ Wolf originally) in the mid 60s. This was around the time of what the Americans called The British Invasion and also of, over here, the British Blues Boom. The former enabled Americans to hear of people like Muddy Waters for the first time (a US interviewer at the time asked where that was). The latter featured the likes of John Mayall and Fleetwood Mac (Peter Green incarnation) but it only lasted for a very short time and quickly gave way to a whole new genre of popular music – rock.
Up until this point, there had been no white people in the story (other than on the business side, of course). They arrived in the mid 60s, as blues was swiftly elbowed aside by rock. Rock came out of blues, particularly in the shape of Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin. All started out playing blues, and all of them moved on from there to create ‘rock’, which was chiefly characterised by riff-based songs and lengthy instrumental passages, mostly lead guitar solos. Blues was the starting point but the outcome wasn’t anything really recognisable as blues music. Cream’s version of Robert Johnson’s Crossroads is a good example – the acoustic, one-man original is a song with some wonderful, dextrous guitar picking; the Cream version is a riff and a long guitar solo, with a bit of a song tacked on at the beginning and end. This laid the pattern for much of what was to follow under the name of blues.
The inventors of rock had been much influenced by the blues they heard on LPs in their teens. In particular, there was a double LP of Robert Johnson that had some commercial success in the 60s. John Hammond, head of CBS in America, went through the company’s archives and found the original Robert Johnson recordings from 1938. He’d tried to book him for a gig at the Carnegie Hall in 1939 only to discover that he’d died (a death witnessed, it would seem , by at least 400 other bluesmen, who told their story to gullible white folk for decades after). Johnson’s songs found a whole new audience, they were lifted out of utter obscurity to become the seminal influence on a whole lot of white boys who went on to fame and fortune with Johnson’s songs ringing in their ears.
These chaps, however, didn’t pick up acoustic guitars and attempt to play like Robert Johnson or his peers. Instead, they took some of the songs and used them in the rock music they were creating. Technology comes in here again – by the late 1960s amps were getting bigger and more powerful, making the loud lead guitar solo de rigueur. Brilliant acoustic songs such as Blind Willie McTell’s Statesboro Blues got mangled into electric rock workouts, the song itself a sort of inconvenience that had to be compressed between guitar solos. Acoustic blues went under the radar.
Well, after this, rock disappears up its own backside when the working class boys are replaced by chaps who had had piano lessons, and in the 1980s blues makes something of a reappearance in the person of Stevie Ray Vaughan (I gather, not knowing much about this). Generations of people come along thinking that all blues is loud electric music. They don’t know about the acoustic origins and probably not even of the pre-1960s electric origins. They are therefore missing out on absolutely all of the good stuff.
Technology again now. As CD making gets cheaper and more easily available in the mid 1990s, a torrent of artists can get their music out there. Among them are blues artists, both electric and acoustic. The best-seller lists for blues (a relative term) indicate that electric rock/blues form is the most popular, even though it has not changed at all since it first arrived in the mid 60s. Its fans seem to like the idea that it is something from the past. The acoustic scene, however, is more varied. Among the people to seek out in that field are Eric Bibb, Guy Davis, Steve James, Paul Rishell, Paul Geremia, Doug MacLeod, Corey Harris, Hans Theessink, Alvin Youngblood Hart, Mary Flower, Keb Mo and Rory Block. Special mention too for the great Taj Mahal, who has made great records from the 60s till now and carried the flame more or less alone through the 80s and early 90s. And you should definitely seek out Samuel James, the best young American acoustic artist. A mention too for our own Ian Siegal, Britain's best all-round blues artist, whose acoustic material more than holds its own in any company.
OK, we’re done now. Not perhaps an exactly ‘potted’ history but I have covered an entire century. Meanwhile, back at the Green Note, there we were, adding our own bit to all this history.
And it was another excellent one, with a good turnout both of audience and musicians. We had 8 different ‘acts’, in addition to me, as well as a number of instrumentalists.
I kicked off with the 12-string instrumental Primrose Hill Street Rag, and then did Long Long Way To Go, bringing in band members as the song went along. The band featured Ryan Carr on mandolin, Charles Benfield on double bass and Dave Forristal on keyboards (drummer Martin was ill). That’s the house band and we were joined by the very welcome presence of Will Greener on harp. Will set the harp-playing bar very high, as he always does. The five of us then did two more of my originals, Your Second Line and Sneakin’ Away.
Owen Houlston followed us, various house band members joining him on his distinctive versions of pre-war acoustic blues songs. Owen is dusting off some of the gems to be found in that mine and putting his own imprint on numbers from that era. This is a noble calling. He was also joined by Will on guitar, making his first appearance at the event and playing acoustic at a jam for the first time. He can now tick that challenge off the list as successfully overcome.
James Daniel on harp and vocals, with Chris on guitar, they delivered their now regular high-quality set, with Dave on piano an integral part of their sound as they do non-standard, often New Orleans based material. Another fine set followed as Simon threw himself with wild abandon into some excellent good-time stuff, starting with a solo number and then being joined by Dan Sheehan on harp, Dave on piano and Phil, making his debut at the event on his new acoustic bass. The major challenge for Phil was to get enough room on stage to play the thing, a problem caused partly by the size of the stage and the number of musicians on it, but mostly by the fact that Dave’s keyboard is of a size that would normally require planning permission.
Two newcomers came next, Paul and Chris, and very good they were too, operating as a duo (guitar/vocal and harp) and doing material that again showed what variety is possible under the umbrella of acoustic blues/roots. Phil came next, joined by Charles, Ryan and Dan on harp for a fine set of pre-war style acoustic blues, during the course of which I think I heard the name of Sleepy John Estes get mentioned, always a good sign I think.
Ryan did a couple of his own numbers next, going down as well as ever. He’s a big part of the success of these evenings. Finally, up got Barry Jackson and Will for a joint set, with Ryan on mandolin, Phil back on bass, and Dave. Barry was on excellent form and between them they cooked up a whole variety of excellent stuff, and people would have been happy to hear a whole lot more of that had time permitted. It was particularly good to see Will back and the thing is always the better for him being there.
There was just enough time for me and the band to round things off with one last number (Easy Does It). It was pretty late by now and next time I think we’ll have to say two numbers each to start off with so that we don’t overrun and cause the Green Note folk to have to stay later than is reasonable. That’ll depend of course on how many people come to play, and if we do that, we can try to get at least some people back up for another number later.
So it was another fine evening at this fine place, and now you all know how it all fits in from a historical perspective. Next time, I shall set a test on the history in this blog. The winner, as Spike Milligan used to say, will receive a free burial at sea.
The next jam is on Wednesday 14th April.
Mark Harrison
No Barry Jackson sketches or photos this time. If anyone took photos, they can send them and I’ll add them.
Wednesday February 10th 2010
Having been around a long time before blogs were invented, I can’t help wondering exactly what their function is. For all my life until the arrival of email, the internet, the mobile phone and assorted other questionable toys, I felt that communication was more or less covered. There were phones (albeit broken public ones), in extreme circumstances there were letters, and there was, above all, the now almost extinct act of speaking to other people. If you wanted to know stuff, there were newspapers, the telly and even books. I felt like I knew as much about other people, and what was going on, as I wanted or needed to. In many cases, that included knowing nothing whatsoever about them.
Recently I read that the forthcoming election will be the first one ‘decided by bloggers’. The organ informing me of this then cited a handful of bloggers, of whom I had, needless to say, not heard. I’m willing to wager that nobody but a small coterie of people who pride themselves on being ‘opinion formers’ and their own close families will have heard of these people. And so, rather weirdly, we have yet another example of this great global tool of communication, the computer, having made the world mysteriously smaller, enabling a small number of arrogant nobodies to feel (and for all I know actually be) important.
This leads to the question: what are blogs for? Or perhaps more importantly, who are they for? Are they simply a modern and rather risible version of the parish magazine? In which case, should I be reporting faithfully on what Dave Forristal is currently growing on his allotment or the failure of Owen Houlston’s resonator to win ‘Biscuit Of The Year’?
Or is a blog just another version of one of those awful ‘family newsletters’ that poncy folk used to send around with their Christmas cards not that many years ago? You know, ‘Roger has finally become a partner at Lickspittle & Crawler .... Annabel’s salmon terrine remains the talk of Belsize Park ..... Magda has been invaluable to us and we will miss her terribly when she returns to poverty in Romania ... Piers this year became the youngest pupil in his school to pass advanced accountancy exams ....’
Well, this time I’m going to avoid both the above approaches and write this for people who don’t know anything about the event and don’t know us. So here goes.
A room full of people gathered at the very congenial venue that is the Green Note, and were all there by 8 or so. The purpose of the event was for people to play and listen to acoustic blues music in various instrumental combinations. There is a view that perhaps the most interesting music currently happening in blues is acoustic and this event gives people a chance to hear this kind of thing done (hopefully) very well, in a relaxed atmosphere, impromptu but not at all shambolic.
Having been around a long time before blogs were invented, I can’t help wondering exactly what their function is. For all my life until the arrival of email, the internet, the mobile phone and assorted other questionable toys, I felt that communication was more or less covered. There were phones (albeit broken public ones), in extreme circumstances there were letters, and there was, above all, the now almost extinct act of speaking to other people. If you wanted to know stuff, there were newspapers, the telly and even books. I felt like I knew as much about other people, and what was going on, as I wanted or needed to. In many cases, that included knowing nothing whatsoever about them.
Recently I read that the forthcoming election will be the first one ‘decided by bloggers’. The organ informing me of this then cited a handful of bloggers, of whom I had, needless to say, not heard. I’m willing to wager that nobody but a small coterie of people who pride themselves on being ‘opinion formers’ and their own close families will have heard of these people. And so, rather weirdly, we have yet another example of this great global tool of communication, the computer, having made the world mysteriously smaller, enabling a small number of arrogant nobodies to feel (and for all I know actually be) important.
This leads to the question: what are blogs for? Or perhaps more importantly, who are they for? Are they simply a modern and rather risible version of the parish magazine? In which case, should I be reporting faithfully on what Dave Forristal is currently growing on his allotment or the failure of Owen Houlston’s resonator to win ‘Biscuit Of The Year’?
Or is a blog just another version of one of those awful ‘family newsletters’ that poncy folk used to send around with their Christmas cards not that many years ago? You know, ‘Roger has finally become a partner at Lickspittle & Crawler .... Annabel’s salmon terrine remains the talk of Belsize Park ..... Magda has been invaluable to us and we will miss her terribly when she returns to poverty in Romania ... Piers this year became the youngest pupil in his school to pass advanced accountancy exams ....’
Well, this time I’m going to avoid both the above approaches and write this for people who don’t know anything about the event and don’t know us. So here goes.
A room full of people gathered at the very congenial venue that is the Green Note, and were all there by 8 or so. The purpose of the event was for people to play and listen to acoustic blues music in various instrumental combinations. There is a view that perhaps the most interesting music currently happening in blues is acoustic and this event gives people a chance to hear this kind of thing done (hopefully) very well, in a relaxed atmosphere, impromptu but not at all shambolic.
house band
There is a house band, comprising double bass, mandolin, keyboards and percussion. These musicians, together with any instrumentalists such as harp players who turn up on the night, accompany people who play and sing and therefore ‘lead’ a short set. Those people can request which musicians they want to play with. The scary unpredictability of being put with unknown quantities just about never happens.
The sound is nice and clear, you can hear what everyone’s doing. You can also hear a very wide variety of music, the acoustic side of things being much less samey that the standard electric fare. The music may veer at any given point from prewar blues, to folk/blues, to countryish songs and any other area that might loosely be described as ‘roots’ music. The norm is three songs each, though if it’s very busy (as it was on this occasion) this might go down to two.
Ryan, Charles, Mark, Martin
The evening started with event co-host Mark Harrison kicking off with some of his own compositions, playing his ancient National. He started with a song with mandolin maestro Ryan Carr and double bass genius Charles Benfield. They were then joined by brilliant keyboard player Dave Forristal and percussionist par excellence Martin Holloway for three more numbers. The well of enthusiastic adjectives has now run dry.
First ‘act’ of the evening was Owen Houlston. Owen’s doing his own individual take on prewar blues songs and doing it very well indeed. Nothing standard issue about Owen’s gruff vocals and impassioned resonator playing, which went very well with the house band. The key word here is ‘individual’. Blues at Green Note likes individuals.
Owen
Previous, and welcome, performer James Daniel was up next. He played harp and sang, accompanied by Chris on guitar and Ian on percussion. Charles and Dave joined them too. It was a fine set, Dave’s piano to the fore. James chooses interesting material to do that never gets an outing at a blues jam, and this time he pulled out the great New Orleans song ‘Junko Partner’, definitively done by Dr John on Gumbo.
James & Chris
Good friend of the event and regular Barry Jackson was up next. Another great set, relaxed but tight, the whole house band following the lead and going to all the right places, even if those places are sometimes quite unexpected. Ryan’s mandolin tore the place up, not for the first time.
Next came a newcomer to the event, Simon. He started by declaring that he’d been expecting to play solo and was surprised to find himself wedged on a tiny stage with more people than you can squeeze into a minibus. Dan Sheehan played harp, Ben played guitar for the first time at this event, more or less the whole house band stayed up. It was a rousing set, Simon hitting the bottleneck playing hard and generating great good humour. The audience got involved.
Hayley got up next and sang, very well, a standard. I think it was Love Letters In The Sand, I was a bit busy sorting out how to get everyone fitted in on what was a very busy evening. We had a record 11 ‘acts’, and regular Justin couldn’t get on. He took this very well, in stark contrast to what was going on at probably exactly that point in time at a well-known electric jam not too far away, where the host was in the process of offering what used to be called a ‘knuckle sandwich’ to a stroppy bloke who’d just been told politely that it was too busy for him to get on and do his guitar solo. Blues at Green Note doesn’t encourage stroppy.
Next on stage was event co-host David Atkinson, with bandmate from Dry Bones, Steve Deller. David played his quite wonderful Fraulini 12-string, Steve played a tiple. No, me neither. It’s a rather delightful mini-guitar with 10 strings (I think) that looks a bit like a ukulele but doesn’t sound at all like one, having a very bright sound and lots of poke. David and Steve are top-quality musicians (sse their band Dry Bones if you can) and they divvied up an excellent and really interesting set, one highlight of which was a version of Woody Guthrie’s classic Deportees.
Another newcomer to the event, Phil, was on next, and his was another high-quality set, utilising the skills of various band members, especially Dave, to back up his excellent singing and playing. He was followed by yet another first-timer, John, who played and sang with his wife Jenny also singing and his son on percussion. James Daniel played harp with them, Charles was up there too. They did a version of the blues standard Motherless Child (rather in the Richie Havens mould I’d say) and a song by The Subdudes (great band, check ‘em out). A good time was had by all. And John won the Longest Beard Competition by a country mile.
Now past our usual finishing time, we still had a good crowd and so there was time for Ryan to get up and do one of his own compositions, followed by another of his audience participation numbers. Once again the audience did indeed participate without too much coaxing (nothing worse than a performer sulking because you won’t join in, but this never seems to happen to Ryan).
Ryan
Graham Hinton, regular and fine performer, rounded things off, with most of the band and with Owen also there on his resonator. It was a good way to end the evening, the quality not having taken a dip at any point, and a huge variety of music having been purveyed by all 10 acts. That’s a record, as was the number of people still there right at the end.
Charles, Owen, Graham, Martin
So, a very good one. There was a very good turnout indeed, and the usual excellent atmosphere. Some very fine music was played by some very fine people. Nuff said.
Well, that’s another blog done. I guess the answer to my question about the point of them is that there are all sorts of genres of blog, and that probably none of them matter all that much. But what about the event described in this one? Does that matter much? Hell, yes, by any reasonable measure of what’s important in life.
Mark Harrison
Next one: Wednesday 10th March
Tell as many people as you can.
Bring as many people as you can
Come and play if you want to.
Come and listen and enjoy.
Put a comment on this blog.
Big thanks to Barry Jackson for the sketches and photos.
Wednesday January 13th 2010
Not for the first time in recent months, your correspondent is obliged to report that it was ‘another quiet one’ at the Green Note. Prior to that, we had some packed houses and doubtless we will again – hopefully next month.
Attendance seems to be unpredictable, but what it depends on is anyone’s guess. I’ve never been entirely convinced by the football on TV theory, but in any case that doesn’t seem to have applied this time. Certainly, the Green Note isn’t (happily) suffering any great general downturn in trade (a couple of gigs early in the new year had seen the place rammed). Could it be the recession? The ‘January is quiet everywhere’ school of thought? Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with the Green Note being an eating place – if people book tables to eat and form an audience, it doesn’t take many to fill it up, and they just haven’t happened to book them in masses of the second Wednesday of the month. Maybe it’ll be packed next time. Just to make sure, maybe everyone concerned could try to get some folk along for the next one. We’re due a decent house.
Another point here is that, because it’s not weekly, people often forget when it’s on. Lots of musicians find anything more complex than ‘every Tuesday’ quite hard to process, even if they hold down highly responsible jobs in real life. So if you’re out and about at other jams, mention the next one to anyone you think might fit in playing-wise, or enjoy it audience-wise. Truth is, it’s not a fixture on the scene the way the weekly ones are, so a bit of effort on telling people may not go amiss. Plus, it seems to me lots of people on the ‘scene’ (or off it) who might well come haven’t heard about it.
I’m not going to bang on about what everyone played this time – I not only didn’t make a note of that, I also didn’t make a list of who was going to play and who they were going to play with; this is not dereliction of a jam host’s duties so much as not a requirement at this event. People get to go on and do their slot and they get to ask for whichever members of the bevy of alluring musicians on hand they want to play with. All of this contributes to the uniquely relaxed atmosphere of this jam, not least because there is no need to ensure that a platoon of chaps bearing lethal electric weapons can be accommodated (the churl in me would say, thank God I don’t have to work out who might spoil someone’s perfectly good act by fouling the air with a hideous pile of unwanted and very loud notes; but I don’t wholly mean to be critical of all that as I quite like making a loudish noise at other places myself, and there are plenty of guitarists out there who do know how to play with other people).
Back at the jam, we had a slightly different set of house band personnel from the last time. David couldn’t make it this time and so mandolin duties were taken up by Ryan Carr. How did anyone ever contemplate playing this sort of music without a mandolin? It is now a welcome fixture and in many ways the star of the show. This time it was Ryan’s turn to cop the ‘you only get a break when you’re bursting’ role, and throughout the evening he played quite brilliantly.
Dave Forristal on keyboards also shone, and for my money showed the way home on how to play just the right things on a keyboard for this kind of music. The sound balance was just right, with everyone clearly audible, so at any moment your ear might have been taken by a sudden burst of mandolin genius, a terrific keyboard solo or a bit of magic from Charles on the double bass. The variety of possibilities for really good moments and really good passages of playing is great.
Not for the first time in recent months, your correspondent is obliged to report that it was ‘another quiet one’ at the Green Note. Prior to that, we had some packed houses and doubtless we will again – hopefully next month.
Attendance seems to be unpredictable, but what it depends on is anyone’s guess. I’ve never been entirely convinced by the football on TV theory, but in any case that doesn’t seem to have applied this time. Certainly, the Green Note isn’t (happily) suffering any great general downturn in trade (a couple of gigs early in the new year had seen the place rammed). Could it be the recession? The ‘January is quiet everywhere’ school of thought? Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with the Green Note being an eating place – if people book tables to eat and form an audience, it doesn’t take many to fill it up, and they just haven’t happened to book them in masses of the second Wednesday of the month. Maybe it’ll be packed next time. Just to make sure, maybe everyone concerned could try to get some folk along for the next one. We’re due a decent house.
Another point here is that, because it’s not weekly, people often forget when it’s on. Lots of musicians find anything more complex than ‘every Tuesday’ quite hard to process, even if they hold down highly responsible jobs in real life. So if you’re out and about at other jams, mention the next one to anyone you think might fit in playing-wise, or enjoy it audience-wise. Truth is, it’s not a fixture on the scene the way the weekly ones are, so a bit of effort on telling people may not go amiss. Plus, it seems to me lots of people on the ‘scene’ (or off it) who might well come haven’t heard about it.
I’m not going to bang on about what everyone played this time – I not only didn’t make a note of that, I also didn’t make a list of who was going to play and who they were going to play with; this is not dereliction of a jam host’s duties so much as not a requirement at this event. People get to go on and do their slot and they get to ask for whichever members of the bevy of alluring musicians on hand they want to play with. All of this contributes to the uniquely relaxed atmosphere of this jam, not least because there is no need to ensure that a platoon of chaps bearing lethal electric weapons can be accommodated (the churl in me would say, thank God I don’t have to work out who might spoil someone’s perfectly good act by fouling the air with a hideous pile of unwanted and very loud notes; but I don’t wholly mean to be critical of all that as I quite like making a loudish noise at other places myself, and there are plenty of guitarists out there who do know how to play with other people).
Back at the jam, we had a slightly different set of house band personnel from the last time. David couldn’t make it this time and so mandolin duties were taken up by Ryan Carr. How did anyone ever contemplate playing this sort of music without a mandolin? It is now a welcome fixture and in many ways the star of the show. This time it was Ryan’s turn to cop the ‘you only get a break when you’re bursting’ role, and throughout the evening he played quite brilliantly.
Ryan
Dave Forristal on keyboards also shone, and for my money showed the way home on how to play just the right things on a keyboard for this kind of music. The sound balance was just right, with everyone clearly audible, so at any moment your ear might have been taken by a sudden burst of mandolin genius, a terrific keyboard solo or a bit of magic from Charles on the double bass. The variety of possibilities for really good moments and really good passages of playing is great.
Mark
I kicked off on the 12-string for three songs, being joined by Ryan and then Dave and Charles as I went along, eventually switching to the National. We were joined in this set by Danno Sheehan, putting in his first appearance on harp at the Green Note and having a pretty busy night on stage. The harp being in the mix added yet another colour to the picture and a welcome one it was too. So, for large parts of the evening the line-up was guitar, mandolin, double bass, keyboards and harp. To which can usually be added drum/percussion – Martin got the dates mixed up.
After me came Barry Jackson for another fine set in his inimitable style, everything he did with the band fitting neatly together. ‘Class act’ remains the most appropriate description of Barry and everyone concerned thoroughly enjoyed his set.
Ryan did his own set next, and he’s at least partly from the bluegrass/country/folk wing of things. He’s got a very good voice indeed and some crowd-pleasing songs. For one of these, he required a fair bit of audience participation, a brave request I always think, as there is always the distinct possibility that an audience (especially a small one) will simply stare you out, leaving the artist with no hiding place and the ghastly feeling of having soiled their underwear in public. But Ryan more than carried this off, getting an enthusiastic response that made the number a riot. People with fewer crowd-appealing skills have been elected to high office.
A newcomer, Anna, came on next, and did two numbers very well indeed, backed by an assortment of the house musicians. Not having done this sort of music in public before, she was a bit nervous, but seemed to gather confidence as she noticed that it was all actually sounding pretty good. People climb over obstacles at this sort of thing, and feel the better for it.
Graham Hinton was up next, demonstrating his excellent picking and singing skills again. Quite a bit of what he does might look a lot easier than it actually is (this is true of a lot of good music of course – the stuff that looks really hard is very often rubbish).
I went back up with the full band to round off the evening. After two songs, I was wrapping things up when someone in the audience asked for another number. They had just arrived, right at the end, quite liked what they’d stumbled in on, and wanted to hear some more of it.
Now, if they could show up at the start, and bring a couple dozen friends with them ........
Mark Harrison
I kicked off on the 12-string for three songs, being joined by Ryan and then Dave and Charles as I went along, eventually switching to the National. We were joined in this set by Danno Sheehan, putting in his first appearance on harp at the Green Note and having a pretty busy night on stage. The harp being in the mix added yet another colour to the picture and a welcome one it was too. So, for large parts of the evening the line-up was guitar, mandolin, double bass, keyboards and harp. To which can usually be added drum/percussion – Martin got the dates mixed up.
Danno
After me came Barry Jackson for another fine set in his inimitable style, everything he did with the band fitting neatly together. ‘Class act’ remains the most appropriate description of Barry and everyone concerned thoroughly enjoyed his set.
Ryan did his own set next, and he’s at least partly from the bluegrass/country/folk wing of things. He’s got a very good voice indeed and some crowd-pleasing songs. For one of these, he required a fair bit of audience participation, a brave request I always think, as there is always the distinct possibility that an audience (especially a small one) will simply stare you out, leaving the artist with no hiding place and the ghastly feeling of having soiled their underwear in public. But Ryan more than carried this off, getting an enthusiastic response that made the number a riot. People with fewer crowd-appealing skills have been elected to high office.
A newcomer, Anna, came on next, and did two numbers very well indeed, backed by an assortment of the house musicians. Not having done this sort of music in public before, she was a bit nervous, but seemed to gather confidence as she noticed that it was all actually sounding pretty good. People climb over obstacles at this sort of thing, and feel the better for it.
Graham Hinton was up next, demonstrating his excellent picking and singing skills again. Quite a bit of what he does might look a lot easier than it actually is (this is true of a lot of good music of course – the stuff that looks really hard is very often rubbish).
I went back up with the full band to round off the evening. After two songs, I was wrapping things up when someone in the audience asked for another number. They had just arrived, right at the end, quite liked what they’d stumbled in on, and wanted to hear some more of it.
Now, if they could show up at the start, and bring a couple dozen friends with them ........
Mark Harrison
Sketches by Barry Jackson
Next one: February 10th
Next one: February 10th
Wednesday December 9th 2009
Sketches by Barry Jackson
Well, we’re six months into the new-style all-acoustic Green Note jam and things have settled down nicely. We’ve got some permanent fixtures, we’ve got some regulars, we’ve got some semi-regulars and we’ve got newcomers. We’re turning out the kind of music that doesn’t get anything like enough of an airing, and we’re serving it up to an appreciative audience. It’s all calm but it ain’t sloppy; it’s laid back but it ain’t lazy. We could do with a few more people showing up sometimes, it’s true. Quite why the numbers vary from pretty packed to pretty quiet is a bit of a mystery. But anyone who ever shows up seems to go away pretty glad they did.
Green Note
The blues, like any other kind of ‘roots’ music, often calls into question conventional notions of the gap between an amateur and a pro. In other forms of popular music, the lines are blurred because of an equal lack of talent either side of the wire. That’s because there’s no notion of a craft, of skills to be learned and worked on, of genuine passion for a musical style, of wanting to do justice to the music. Those folk are proudly and intentionally part of the ‘anyone can do it’ culture. In that culture, it’s all about luck as to which people poke their heads out of the pack.
But in the blues and related fields, this is of course not the case. The pros just about always do something that anyone can’t do. It’s skill and a dedication to craftsmanship that separates them from the rest, as well as talent and individuality. That’s why it’s a joy to see them – they’re doing something you can’t do and that’s one of the things that excites. You see them and you know why they’re earning a living (albeit probably not much of one) doing it.
However, what the blues also has is a fair share of people who aren’t doing it for a living but, in a just world could be. Maybe they preferred to get ‘proper’ jobs and throw themselves into it as a serious hobby; maybe they had a go at doing it for money and couldn’t make a go of that (very few people ever have, in real terms); maybe they’re young and trying to work their way to do it for a living (and hopefully some of those at least will achieve their aim). Whatever, within these categories can be found some seriously good people, who could be said to bridge the gap between the amateur and the pro. There are quite a few people on the London jams scene of whom this could be said. Let’s call them pros who don’t do it for a living.
The reason for this poncy digression is that I was reminded yet again of this at the last jam, because a number of people in that category play at the Green Note acoustic jam. And unlike at electric jams, it’s entirely possible for everyone who’s there to hear how good they are. And so it was, on a quietish night audience-wise, that a small band of people, who can play a bit, sat up front listening to what their comrades on stage were doing and muttering to each other things like: ‘Christ, he’s really good, isn’t he?’ One of the nicer features of this whole blues thing is the pleasure that people take in each other’s skills and talents. And they don’t fake it for politeness either.
Anyway, what exactly was served up? As usual, I kicked off, firstly with David on mandolin for Early In The Morning and then with Charles on double bass and Martin on drum for Sneakin’ Away, Easy Does It and Highgate Hill Blues. A person in the audience asked me if they were my own songs. When I said that yes they were, he told me I should say something about them, why I’d written them, that kind of thing. It was the kind of night where people on stage just had chats with the people listening. Well, I thought of saying that explaining songs kind of takes away the point of writing them, but decided to settle for adding this to my own, not short, list of inadequacies.
Mark
Barry Jackson came on next, and Barry has a style that suggests he’s so comfortable doing this he could be in his pyjamas. Playing a Guild resonator from his seemingly endless collection of enviable guitars (haven’t seen a gleaming Strat anywhere near Barry yet, and the sight just wouldn’t seem right), he launched, with the band, into Walking Blues (in the style of Son House), Fred McDowell’s great You Gotta Move, Junior Parker’s much covered (but surely seldom like this) Mystery Train and Ry Cooder’s Crazy ‘Bout An Automobile. The latter brings me back to the previous point. Ry Cooder’s early 70s albums are among my favourites of all time, and they haven’t been diminished one iota by time. But Barry’s renditions of the material lose nothing in comparison.
First-timer Steve Lyons was next up and he did three originals – There’s A Place For The Blues, Can’t Be Satisfied and Out On The Road, with David on mandolin for the first and Martin and David for the last. For the second number he brought in a welcome first for the jam – violin, in the person of Mary. Steve had clearly got exactly what the jam was about, ringing the changes for accompaniment, doing originals and widening the range of instruments. His was a fine set and fitted right in.
Barry Jackson came on next, and Barry has a style that suggests he’s so comfortable doing this he could be in his pyjamas. Playing a Guild resonator from his seemingly endless collection of enviable guitars (haven’t seen a gleaming Strat anywhere near Barry yet, and the sight just wouldn’t seem right), he launched, with the band, into Walking Blues (in the style of Son House), Fred McDowell’s great You Gotta Move, Junior Parker’s much covered (but surely seldom like this) Mystery Train and Ry Cooder’s Crazy ‘Bout An Automobile. The latter brings me back to the previous point. Ry Cooder’s early 70s albums are among my favourites of all time, and they haven’t been diminished one iota by time. But Barry’s renditions of the material lose nothing in comparison.
First-timer Steve Lyons was next up and he did three originals – There’s A Place For The Blues, Can’t Be Satisfied and Out On The Road, with David on mandolin for the first and Martin and David for the last. For the second number he brought in a welcome first for the jam – violin, in the person of Mary. Steve had clearly got exactly what the jam was about, ringing the changes for accompaniment, doing originals and widening the range of instruments. His was a fine set and fitted right in.
Steve
Then came the much mooted and eagerly awaited acoustic debut of jam luminary Pete Vardigans. Demonstrating admirable guts in doing something that can fill the electric player with dread, he did an excellent set on Barry’s guitar. Kicking off with an instrumental version of When The Saints .., , he then played and sang (very well) the staple See See Rider, Chuck Berry’s Roll Over Beethoven (a nice twist on a familiar electric number – acoustic versions of such material can come over really well) and I Need To See You. The odds on Pete turning up soon with a rather nice new acoustic guitar have now been slashed by the bookies.
David then did a set of his own. I think it would be fair to say that David was, not for the first time, the star of the show. Indeed, with the exception of one number, when he had to exit for a ‘comfort break’, he was on stage the whole night, showing just how good a mandolin player he is. The house sound we’ve now got going has evolved largely due to his mandolin, and it’s now an integral part of something rather special. Now he switched to guitar for a couple from his own repertoire of terrific covers of prewar blues. First came Furry Lewis’ Judge Harsh Blues, and then a rendition of Charley Patton’s Jinx Blues (or at any rate, a variant on that strand of Charley’s stuff). The other musicians purred their admiration of these numbers and there were murmurings at the many bits of wonderful guitar business David was divvying up. Great, if brief, set from a top-notch musician.
Then came the much mooted and eagerly awaited acoustic debut of jam luminary Pete Vardigans. Demonstrating admirable guts in doing something that can fill the electric player with dread, he did an excellent set on Barry’s guitar. Kicking off with an instrumental version of When The Saints .., , he then played and sang (very well) the staple See See Rider, Chuck Berry’s Roll Over Beethoven (a nice twist on a familiar electric number – acoustic versions of such material can come over really well) and I Need To See You. The odds on Pete turning up soon with a rather nice new acoustic guitar have now been slashed by the bookies.
David then did a set of his own. I think it would be fair to say that David was, not for the first time, the star of the show. Indeed, with the exception of one number, when he had to exit for a ‘comfort break’, he was on stage the whole night, showing just how good a mandolin player he is. The house sound we’ve now got going has evolved largely due to his mandolin, and it’s now an integral part of something rather special. Now he switched to guitar for a couple from his own repertoire of terrific covers of prewar blues. First came Furry Lewis’ Judge Harsh Blues, and then a rendition of Charley Patton’s Jinx Blues (or at any rate, a variant on that strand of Charley’s stuff). The other musicians purred their admiration of these numbers and there were murmurings at the many bits of wonderful guitar business David was divvying up. Great, if brief, set from a top-notch musician.
David
There was time for me to get up for a couple more of mine – Five Thousand Days (I was actually able to say something about this one – see, that thing was gnawing away at me) with Charles and David, and Hard Work with Martin joining us. The latter took flight in that ‘more than the sum of the parts’ way that gives a musician a real kick – you think you’re listening to a really great band and then you remember that apparently you’re in it. Lest we forget, it’s worth repeating just how good Charles and Martin are too.
Barry rounded the evening off with a couple more, the last being a Mexican-type song about going to Tijuana. This featured a chord sequence way, way beyond the remit of any jam. Undaunted, Barry called out the changes for the Charles and David as he went along, and undaunted they made those changes. It was a master class in real musicianship (and I have to add that anything like this would have induced a fit of the vapours among the vast majority of electric jammers). ‘Now the minor 7th .... now the 3rd’ said Barry as asides, while rendering the actual public consumption bits of the song. With little more than the odd slight furrow of the brow, the band went right along. If there’s a better bass player than Charles around, I’d be seriously surprised, and here he was demonstrating once again what a fine all-round musician he is.
There was time for me to get up for a couple more of mine – Five Thousand Days (I was actually able to say something about this one – see, that thing was gnawing away at me) with Charles and David, and Hard Work with Martin joining us. The latter took flight in that ‘more than the sum of the parts’ way that gives a musician a real kick – you think you’re listening to a really great band and then you remember that apparently you’re in it. Lest we forget, it’s worth repeating just how good Charles and Martin are too.
Barry rounded the evening off with a couple more, the last being a Mexican-type song about going to Tijuana. This featured a chord sequence way, way beyond the remit of any jam. Undaunted, Barry called out the changes for the Charles and David as he went along, and undaunted they made those changes. It was a master class in real musicianship (and I have to add that anything like this would have induced a fit of the vapours among the vast majority of electric jammers). ‘Now the minor 7th .... now the 3rd’ said Barry as asides, while rendering the actual public consumption bits of the song. With little more than the odd slight furrow of the brow, the band went right along. If there’s a better bass player than Charles around, I’d be seriously surprised, and here he was demonstrating once again what a fine all-round musician he is.
The band
It’s that sort of thing that put me in mind of the point I was making at the beginning of this gibberish. The line between the pros who don’t do it for a living and the pros who do can be a very thin one indeed.
A few years back I spent some time talking to the terrific American acoustic blues artist Paul Rishell. Talking about guitar skills, he pointed out that what separated him and the likes of me was time spent doing it. I, he suggested, could easily play like him if I hadn’t spent so much time doing the earning a living thing. The difference was time available to hone the skills. Well, I’m not sure he was right in my case, but the point is a valid one generally. Paul’s definition of success was that he had managed to go all 40-odd years of his adult life earning a living from music. He counted it as a triumph that he’d never had a ‘job’ job. So do I.
So there you have it. The pros who don’t do it for a living are only not pros in that sense. When they’re doing it, they think, act and play like pros. It’s just what they do the rest of the time that’s the difference.
Mark Harrison
Feel free to put a comment on here. I and a sense of futility are old pals, but it would be nice to think that someone was actually reading this swill.
It’s that sort of thing that put me in mind of the point I was making at the beginning of this gibberish. The line between the pros who don’t do it for a living and the pros who do can be a very thin one indeed.
A few years back I spent some time talking to the terrific American acoustic blues artist Paul Rishell. Talking about guitar skills, he pointed out that what separated him and the likes of me was time spent doing it. I, he suggested, could easily play like him if I hadn’t spent so much time doing the earning a living thing. The difference was time available to hone the skills. Well, I’m not sure he was right in my case, but the point is a valid one generally. Paul’s definition of success was that he had managed to go all 40-odd years of his adult life earning a living from music. He counted it as a triumph that he’d never had a ‘job’ job. So do I.
So there you have it. The pros who don’t do it for a living are only not pros in that sense. When they’re doing it, they think, act and play like pros. It’s just what they do the rest of the time that’s the difference.
Mark Harrison
Feel free to put a comment on here. I and a sense of futility are old pals, but it would be nice to think that someone was actually reading this swill.
Wednesday 11th November (ctd)
In addition to the exciting report below, here are some excellent sketches Barry Jackson did on the night ....
Mark
Graham
In addition to the exciting report below, here are some excellent sketches Barry Jackson did on the night ....
Mark
Graham
Charles
Wednesday 11th November
Well, the general consensus of this one, from audience and musicians alike, was that it was a wonderful evening of music and possibly the best one yet (in what is already becoming a tight competition for that title). From start to finish there was a great vibe and there can be no doubt that the event is showcasing some of the highest quality, and most original, blues music of any kind in London.
The thing about acoustic, or acoustic-ish, stuff, as I keep saying, is that it brings out the individual. There’s no volume to hide behind, no mass of sound to form a barrier between you and the listener. You can be yourself – in fact, you have to be yourself. That’s why it can be a scary prospect for some, and a big challenge. That’s also why it’s so good. There’s just about no such thing as a standard issue acoustic blues artist, and there was certainly no such thing as that at the Green Note, where every artist had something a bit special, and a bit different to offer.
As has become usual, I kicked things off with my own material on the National, starting with an instrumental and then bringing on David Atkinson to join me on the mandolin for Big Mary’s House (a juke joint in 30s Mississippi). Then the band – Dave on keys, Martin on percussion and Charles on upright bass, came up for Itch That Can’t Be Scratched and Hard Work. For both of these we were joined by the very welcome presence of Rick Webb, demonstrating again just how good a harp player he is. 
This band set-up, squeezed onto the stage like the people crammed into Groucho’s cabin in that Marx Brothers movie, stayed up to play with Barry Jackson. Barry made himself right at home from the off, and set off on a journey through a marvellous set, the music stretching out in various directions, everyone getting a good go in the foreground, all parts of each song thoroughly examined. A high spot was How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live?, delivered in an extended version that might have got Ry Cooder a bit worried about his own excellent version in comparison.
Next up was the always welcome Laine Hines, surely a prime contender for best solo acoustic bluesman in London (prewar division). Kicking off with a solo version of Robert Johnson’s Come On In My Kitchen, for which the adjective ethereal was invented, he was then joined by various elements of the band for the rest of his predictably fine contribution to the evening.
James Daniel was next, joined by the band, with David moving from mandolin on to my National. Again, James’ set provided a contrast with much of what had gone before, a slightly, louder and harder edge, with his harp and Dave’s piano coming to the fore very effectively. He was followed by Justin for another of his excellent sets on 12-string, reminding us (not that anyone needed it), that every change of set would bring a change of style and atmosphere, keeping musicians and audience from assuming that anything would get samey. Indeed, one feature of this event is that the interesting music going on actually cuts down the amount of musician chat going on at the bar – rare praise indeed.
Graham Hinton and Owen Houlston were next, for another polished set, this time Graham’s fingerpicking skills complemented by Owen on my National (fearing it was on the way to becoming ‘house guitar’, it decided to retaliate by presenting Owen with some unpredictable behaviour tuning-wise). Their set covered a range from the rollicking to the smooth and went down very well indeed. The band and myself then went on to close the evening with a couple more of mine.
There was a very good-sized audience, and response and comments afterwards indicated that again the whole evening was much enjoyed. You often get a sense of people in the audience at the Green Note discovering this music for the first time and being quite thrilled by the discovery. And then there are people not discovering the music, but thrilled at discovering that it exists in London, played by very good people indeed.
I think it was generally agreed too, that the single most important ingredient in the evening as a whole was David’s mandolin playing. At how many blues jams do people ever say, ‘Hey, I can hear the mandolin really well’ and get a smile on their faces because of it? David’s playing in the band, and in the other combinations, raised the music to another level.
So, men and women of the London blues scene who do the electric jams but have yet to test yourselves at The Green Note acoustic night? Are you person enough for the challenge? If so, come down some time, sip of the atmosphere and be yourself on a stage. If not, come down and watch the rest of us being ourselves.
Well, the general consensus of this one, from audience and musicians alike, was that it was a wonderful evening of music and possibly the best one yet (in what is already becoming a tight competition for that title). From start to finish there was a great vibe and there can be no doubt that the event is showcasing some of the highest quality, and most original, blues music of any kind in London.
The thing about acoustic, or acoustic-ish, stuff, as I keep saying, is that it brings out the individual. There’s no volume to hide behind, no mass of sound to form a barrier between you and the listener. You can be yourself – in fact, you have to be yourself. That’s why it can be a scary prospect for some, and a big challenge. That’s also why it’s so good. There’s just about no such thing as a standard issue acoustic blues artist, and there was certainly no such thing as that at the Green Note, where every artist had something a bit special, and a bit different to offer.
As has become usual, I kicked things off with my own material on the National, starting with an instrumental and then bringing on David Atkinson to join me on the mandolin for Big Mary’s House (a juke joint in 30s Mississippi). Then the band – Dave on keys, Martin on percussion and Charles on upright bass, came up for Itch That Can’t Be Scratched and Hard Work. For both of these we were joined by the very welcome presence of Rick Webb, demonstrating again just how good a harp player he is.
This band set-up, squeezed onto the stage like the people crammed into Groucho’s cabin in that Marx Brothers movie, stayed up to play with Barry Jackson. Barry made himself right at home from the off, and set off on a journey through a marvellous set, the music stretching out in various directions, everyone getting a good go in the foreground, all parts of each song thoroughly examined. A high spot was How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live?, delivered in an extended version that might have got Ry Cooder a bit worried about his own excellent version in comparison.
Next up was the always welcome Laine Hines, surely a prime contender for best solo acoustic bluesman in London (prewar division). Kicking off with a solo version of Robert Johnson’s Come On In My Kitchen, for which the adjective ethereal was invented, he was then joined by various elements of the band for the rest of his predictably fine contribution to the evening.
James Daniel was next, joined by the band, with David moving from mandolin on to my National. Again, James’ set provided a contrast with much of what had gone before, a slightly, louder and harder edge, with his harp and Dave’s piano coming to the fore very effectively. He was followed by Justin for another of his excellent sets on 12-string, reminding us (not that anyone needed it), that every change of set would bring a change of style and atmosphere, keeping musicians and audience from assuming that anything would get samey. Indeed, one feature of this event is that the interesting music going on actually cuts down the amount of musician chat going on at the bar – rare praise indeed.
Graham Hinton and Owen Houlston were next, for another polished set, this time Graham’s fingerpicking skills complemented by Owen on my National (fearing it was on the way to becoming ‘house guitar’, it decided to retaliate by presenting Owen with some unpredictable behaviour tuning-wise). Their set covered a range from the rollicking to the smooth and went down very well indeed. The band and myself then went on to close the evening with a couple more of mine.
There was a very good-sized audience, and response and comments afterwards indicated that again the whole evening was much enjoyed. You often get a sense of people in the audience at the Green Note discovering this music for the first time and being quite thrilled by the discovery. And then there are people not discovering the music, but thrilled at discovering that it exists in London, played by very good people indeed.
I think it was generally agreed too, that the single most important ingredient in the evening as a whole was David’s mandolin playing. At how many blues jams do people ever say, ‘Hey, I can hear the mandolin really well’ and get a smile on their faces because of it? David’s playing in the band, and in the other combinations, raised the music to another level.
So, men and women of the London blues scene who do the electric jams but have yet to test yourselves at The Green Note acoustic night? Are you person enough for the challenge? If so, come down some time, sip of the atmosphere and be yourself on a stage. If not, come down and watch the rest of us being ourselves.
The next one's on 9th December. Don't miss it.
Mark Harrison
Photos by Rick Webb
(only a couple this time but they're good ones. Future blogs may not have any, unless someone wants to put their hand up for taking them ....)
Wednesday 14th October
No two of these nights is ever the same, as has become clear since we started them up back in July. The acoustic brand of blues perhaps lends itself more to individuality than its electric sibling. So each time, the flavour of the evening depends on who comes to play and on the combination of those people. Once again, the standard was extremely high and the variety great, and once again we had a mixture of regulars and first-timers at the event. It was an evening of very good music indeed.
It was also a very laid-back one, especially as the Green Note was pretty quiet on the night. For some bizarre reason I will never be able to fathom, this apparently has some connection with a football match on telly. Well, anyone who didn’t show up because they preferred to watch that can send me a written explanation.
Nevertheless, we had a good atmosphere and a room of people enjoying the evening. This has a lot to do with the Green Note’s unique vibe, and I very much suspect that all concerned would have had a good time even if there had only been three people in the room.
David
David then did a couple of solo numbers on my National, Furry Lewis’s Judge Harsh Blues and Blind Willie Johnson’s Nobody’s Fault But Mine (later to get another outing in a wholly different form), showing just what a great musician and interpreter of pre-war blues he is. Top-notch picking, slide and vocals were all on display.
Charles, David, Martin, Dave & Mark
The band came on then, with David going back on mandolin, and we did three of my originals (Sneakin’ Away, Highgate Hill Blues and Your Second Line). Dave Forristal played organ on these, Charles was on his double bass (minus one string – he is currently selling whatever valuable possessions he can find to raise the funds required for a new one, they ain’t cheap) and Martin was on percussion. The combination of those with the National and David on mandolin made for the kind of sound you don’t come across that often. And the chance to play in such combinations is what the evening is all about.
Next up was a welcome first appearance at the event by the excellent Barry Jackson, who played a rather nice Gibson and did terrific versions of songs from the canon of the greats, including Muddy’s She’s Nineteen Years Old. He had Charles’s bass and David on mandolin with him, and this ad hoc trio, with Barry’s accomplished playing and vocal delivery, served up a terrific set.
Barry
Laine Hines was next and his was another predictably high-quality set. Laine is a very good example of the individuality I was talking about – he sounds like himself and nobody else sounds like him. He’s got his own vocal and playing style and he takes listeners along with him to wherever he’s at. He was joined by Charles on bass and (literally) a visitor on mandolin – Chris, an Australian passing through London on his way to Canada, as far as I could follow the complex narrative. He showed himself to be a very fine player, leaning towards the bluegrass side of things. He and Charles acquitted themselves very well in keeping up with Laine’s not-always-predictable chord changes and this trio’s set was another very fine one indeed.
Chris & Laine
Another regular, Justin, came next and he did another excellent set on his 12-string, Chris staying up with him on mandolin and Charles and Martin providing rhythm section. Justin’s take on all this seems to be to corner the market in acoustic versions of uptempo numbers usually done electric, and he does this very well. Numbers the blues fan might be very familiar with are turned into something quite different in this acoustic rendition.
More first-timers at the event came next, in the form of James on vocals and harp and CJ on guitar, backed by the full house band of Dave (on piano this time), Charles and Martin. This set was completely different from anything else on the bill all evening, one of the great joys of the event. Blues and boogie piano took centre stage, working very well with James’ very strong vocals and harp playing, CJ’s guitar and the rest of the band. This was a barrelhouse set, a really interesting version of what would elsewhere be an electric set, except that with this you could hear everyone.
The final set came from Graham Hinton and Owen Houlston, in duo form for the first time at this event. Owen played his resonator with a combination of great skill and wild abandon, complementing Graham’s subtle picking very well indeed. Joined by Charles and Martin as rhythm section, they swapped lead vocal duties – Graham’s polished singing contrasting with Owen’s vocal style, for which the word’ gruff’ may very well have been invented. It was excellent, fun stuff, relaxed but tight (well, tightish). Their set had pace and life and closed the evening on a high.
So, another good one. The next one’s on 11th November. If you want to come and listen to what must surely be the best acoustic blues on offer in London, get yourself down for the next one. If you’re coming to play, bring your mates. And doubtless, the next one will be different from the last one.
Mark Harrison
No two of these nights is ever the same, as has become clear since we started them up back in July. The acoustic brand of blues perhaps lends itself more to individuality than its electric sibling. So each time, the flavour of the evening depends on who comes to play and on the combination of those people. Once again, the standard was extremely high and the variety great, and once again we had a mixture of regulars and first-timers at the event. It was an evening of very good music indeed.
It was also a very laid-back one, especially as the Green Note was pretty quiet on the night. For some bizarre reason I will never be able to fathom, this apparently has some connection with a football match on telly. Well, anyone who didn’t show up because they preferred to watch that can send me a written explanation.
Nevertheless, we had a good atmosphere and a room of people enjoying the evening. This has a lot to do with the Green Note’s unique vibe, and I very much suspect that all concerned would have had a good time even if there had only been three people in the room.
David & Mark
David Atkinson and I kicked things off with a number of mine, Early In The Morning, with me on the National and David on mandolin. Personally, I’m a great lover of the mandolin and particularly like it played in the blues style, which David is very good at indeed. Mandolin became a main feature of this particular evening, and it was the better for it.
David Atkinson and I kicked things off with a number of mine, Early In The Morning, with me on the National and David on mandolin. Personally, I’m a great lover of the mandolin and particularly like it played in the blues style, which David is very good at indeed. Mandolin became a main feature of this particular evening, and it was the better for it.
DavidDavid then did a couple of solo numbers on my National, Furry Lewis’s Judge Harsh Blues and Blind Willie Johnson’s Nobody’s Fault But Mine (later to get another outing in a wholly different form), showing just what a great musician and interpreter of pre-war blues he is. Top-notch picking, slide and vocals were all on display.
Charles, David, Martin, Dave & MarkThe band came on then, with David going back on mandolin, and we did three of my originals (Sneakin’ Away, Highgate Hill Blues and Your Second Line). Dave Forristal played organ on these, Charles was on his double bass (minus one string – he is currently selling whatever valuable possessions he can find to raise the funds required for a new one, they ain’t cheap) and Martin was on percussion. The combination of those with the National and David on mandolin made for the kind of sound you don’t come across that often. And the chance to play in such combinations is what the evening is all about.
Next up was a welcome first appearance at the event by the excellent Barry Jackson, who played a rather nice Gibson and did terrific versions of songs from the canon of the greats, including Muddy’s She’s Nineteen Years Old. He had Charles’s bass and David on mandolin with him, and this ad hoc trio, with Barry’s accomplished playing and vocal delivery, served up a terrific set.
BarryLaine Hines was next and his was another predictably high-quality set. Laine is a very good example of the individuality I was talking about – he sounds like himself and nobody else sounds like him. He’s got his own vocal and playing style and he takes listeners along with him to wherever he’s at. He was joined by Charles on bass and (literally) a visitor on mandolin – Chris, an Australian passing through London on his way to Canada, as far as I could follow the complex narrative. He showed himself to be a very fine player, leaning towards the bluegrass side of things. He and Charles acquitted themselves very well in keeping up with Laine’s not-always-predictable chord changes and this trio’s set was another very fine one indeed.
Chris & LaineAnother regular, Justin, came next and he did another excellent set on his 12-string, Chris staying up with him on mandolin and Charles and Martin providing rhythm section. Justin’s take on all this seems to be to corner the market in acoustic versions of uptempo numbers usually done electric, and he does this very well. Numbers the blues fan might be very familiar with are turned into something quite different in this acoustic rendition.
More first-timers at the event came next, in the form of James on vocals and harp and CJ on guitar, backed by the full house band of Dave (on piano this time), Charles and Martin. This set was completely different from anything else on the bill all evening, one of the great joys of the event. Blues and boogie piano took centre stage, working very well with James’ very strong vocals and harp playing, CJ’s guitar and the rest of the band. This was a barrelhouse set, a really interesting version of what would elsewhere be an electric set, except that with this you could hear everyone.
The final set came from Graham Hinton and Owen Houlston, in duo form for the first time at this event. Owen played his resonator with a combination of great skill and wild abandon, complementing Graham’s subtle picking very well indeed. Joined by Charles and Martin as rhythm section, they swapped lead vocal duties – Graham’s polished singing contrasting with Owen’s vocal style, for which the word’ gruff’ may very well have been invented. It was excellent, fun stuff, relaxed but tight (well, tightish). Their set had pace and life and closed the evening on a high.
So, another good one. The next one’s on 11th November. If you want to come and listen to what must surely be the best acoustic blues on offer in London, get yourself down for the next one. If you’re coming to play, bring your mates. And doubtless, the next one will be different from the last one.
Mark Harrison