Sunday I supported 'Crasdant' a Welsh quartet. The music was amazing - a triple harp, flute, accordion and the wonderfully talented Huw Williams on guitar and funny bone.
The room filled slowly – but it filled. Whilst people arrived and I had a few moments to chat, I talked with Maureen, the club organiser. In about 15 minutes we covered subjects as diverse as abuse in Irish ‘laundries’ to whether we believe in God or not, and the joys of parent/grandparenthood!
On to stage I go – unaccompanied by man nor beast (just my guitar). As there was a band on for main act, its easier sometimes if its just a solo artist doing support.
And I sang my songs (started off very depressing!) – and I chatted lightly and the audience dutifully (and very prettily too) sang along. My last two numbers arrived. Firstly, a song I had written just three weeks ago about an Irish lighthouse keeper (well, about his daughter’s memories of him). It went down a storm (well, not literally, but it went down well). Then – my new song I wrote last week – Cromarty (named after the dog). I got lost! I was nearly at the end of the song (and it was going well) when I put my fingers round the wrong way and the whole song went into a minor key! Ooops… Anyway, I got to the end of the song with a wonderful new section in the middle (um, well, I think I got away with it) and was duly applauded.
The main act were superb. The music was melodic and engaging and a couple of songs (both in Welsh). They even got the audience to join in with a chorus in Welsh and Huw managed to do some clog dancing on stage. He’s a talented man – as well as being a champion clog dancer (Welsh clog has more of the flair that I associate with Appalachian rather than the rigidity of Irish or Lancashire) he is an excellent song writer and a most talented musician. He played guitar most of the time but also did one number on a tiny knee harp. Looked like the triple harp’s baby!
When doing these supports I also draw the raffle and announce what’s on, so I get to do quite an MC job as well as perform.
At the end of their set we all yelled for more and I got them back on stage for an encore. Robin, the harp player, actually asked the audience to applaud me and Huw was complimentary about my voice. Aw shucks, that was a nice gesture.
I bought a CD (which my old man is well taken with) and came home a happy bunny – for the second time that weekend!
Being a folk musician is good. You meet nice people, have appreciative audiences and get to see quality music (and dancing!) that so many people don’t realise even exists, let alone get to appreciate.
Another good night.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
I'm gigging again!
Yeeha! It's been like wandering in a desert, not having gigs. But I've had a few these last couple of months, and I'm definitely a happier person for it.
Firstly, a support at Ely Folk club - supporting the wonderful duo Dansmall. Shani and I were booked on support and on trust. Ruth, the club organiser, had never seen our duo, but even so we were booked and had a lovely night I have to admit. We seemed to go down well and it was our first half-hour set. We took a walk at the break. Wandering the small streets of the ancient Fenland town in search of - history? excitement? no - PIZZA! Which we duly found.
Then we did a support at Hitchin folk club. As a resident there I often play - sometimes with B, sometimes on my own, but this time I played with Shani. It was - er - odd. The main act was Lazarus - quite a folky trio (loved Kevin Dempsey's guitar playing, know Maart Allcock of old and Dave Swarbrick - well, back from the dead!). So the audience were quite folky. So our mix of folk and the slightly rockier stuff was unusual, but seemed to go down well. One day before the gig I decided Shani and I should do one of my songs that I was going to start with (on my own) so made her learn the song then and there. And I decided (hark at me - bossing her about) we should limit the gear, so I made her learn one song she plays on guitar on bass instead. As it happens logistically it was a sound dicision, but not quite as good musically in as much as our original arrangements are better.
But - the most recent gig and one that has finally prompted me to put this entry on my blog - was at Cambridge folk club. We'd played there a couple of months back, doing a two-song floor spot, and been offered a 'feature spot'. Hence, this evening, we had a whole half hour to ourselves!
The evening was Friday 16th March 2007. Which is Red Nose Day. Comic Relief. A day of fundraising for deprived children in Africa and the UK. Lots of silliness occurs across the country. This night at the folk club the bar staff all had their hair dyed red. One woman wore a 'red nose' (foam - looked like a microphone pop-shield) whilst she explained that the evening's raffle prize money would all go to the charity. Hey - we'd donate our fee! (Well, we would have if we'd had one, that is.)
We turned up (Shani and Nic arriving first - unusually) and our gear was set to the side. We'd set up in the interval. There were then a succession of floor singers and I have to say the quality was excellent. Good voices, nice instrumentalists, and even those who were not 'expert' in performance still did their best and entertained.
Half time we set up our gear - bass, guitar, electric guitar - and a microphone so that the sound engineer (Howard) could join us for our last number. Yes - I hate harmonicas, but the last song we do (Hobo) just begs for it!
The evening went on - more great performers (a duo from St Albans, a singer from Bury St Edmunds which is - funnily enough - where B's band were performing that same night), the landlord (complete with red hair) sang and recited a monologue and at the end a man who sat quietly, sang quietly, played gently and was completely engaging. It was now 11pm (psssttt... whispered in my ear ... we are overrunning a bit...).
We got on stage, were introduced with the 'Carolyn from Shave the Monkey' bit and I introduced Shani from 'all over'. We performed well, we played well, the room was full and we went down well. Our last number - Hobo - we really did well. Howard on harmonica, and our vocals at the end just worked perfectly. It was a good feeling. I felt very comfortable on stage with Shani.
Hugs all round girls - off home in our separate vehicles. I got home about 12, and my son (who'd been playing - and won - poker all night) disappeared off to bed. But I was buzzing. Still on a mild high from a good night performing. I checked my emails, rattled a quick one off to my pal in the US and then the phone rang. Probably B - telling me how his gig had gone. No! It was Nadine phoning from the US. She knew I was up (I had just emailed her) and as it was only afternoon in her neck of the woods...
We chatted for half an hour. This conversation involved me explaning the difference between a bog and a heath (I live near a heath), a rather too detailed description of the cat vomit I had to clear up whilst talking (cat is not well, poor thing) and general, light hearted talk - learning about eachothers lives and trying to put perspective and context to our friendship.
Well, that was a treat. A good gig and a long distance call from a friend. It was now 1am. Sleep? No way - too jazzed as they say. I had a bath. A hot, relaxing bath. I eventually went to bed at around 1.45am and just as I was drifting off, B came home. We had time for a brief chat - his gig had gone well too (and he got paid for his!). His had been videoed and I'd be able to see it in the future (albeit edited, of course). That would be nice. We don't seem to get to see eachother perform much these days.
Sleep came like a warm blanket, enveloping my happy, tired, simple mind. Simple because it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Not really. Good music, good friends, and a nice warm husband to snuggle up to at the end of the day.
And on Sunday I am at Hitchin again - solo though - supporting a Welsh band called Crasdant. And I will sing the song I wrote last week, and the new song I wrote two weeks before that as well. I think ... I think I'd better go practice.
Firstly, a support at Ely Folk club - supporting the wonderful duo Dansmall. Shani and I were booked on support and on trust. Ruth, the club organiser, had never seen our duo, but even so we were booked and had a lovely night I have to admit. We seemed to go down well and it was our first half-hour set. We took a walk at the break. Wandering the small streets of the ancient Fenland town in search of - history? excitement? no - PIZZA! Which we duly found.
Then we did a support at Hitchin folk club. As a resident there I often play - sometimes with B, sometimes on my own, but this time I played with Shani. It was - er - odd. The main act was Lazarus - quite a folky trio (loved Kevin Dempsey's guitar playing, know Maart Allcock of old and Dave Swarbrick - well, back from the dead!). So the audience were quite folky. So our mix of folk and the slightly rockier stuff was unusual, but seemed to go down well. One day before the gig I decided Shani and I should do one of my songs that I was going to start with (on my own) so made her learn the song then and there. And I decided (hark at me - bossing her about) we should limit the gear, so I made her learn one song she plays on guitar on bass instead. As it happens logistically it was a sound dicision, but not quite as good musically in as much as our original arrangements are better.
But - the most recent gig and one that has finally prompted me to put this entry on my blog - was at Cambridge folk club. We'd played there a couple of months back, doing a two-song floor spot, and been offered a 'feature spot'. Hence, this evening, we had a whole half hour to ourselves!
The evening was Friday 16th March 2007. Which is Red Nose Day. Comic Relief. A day of fundraising for deprived children in Africa and the UK. Lots of silliness occurs across the country. This night at the folk club the bar staff all had their hair dyed red. One woman wore a 'red nose' (foam - looked like a microphone pop-shield) whilst she explained that the evening's raffle prize money would all go to the charity. Hey - we'd donate our fee! (Well, we would have if we'd had one, that is.)
We turned up (Shani and Nic arriving first - unusually) and our gear was set to the side. We'd set up in the interval. There were then a succession of floor singers and I have to say the quality was excellent. Good voices, nice instrumentalists, and even those who were not 'expert' in performance still did their best and entertained.
Half time we set up our gear - bass, guitar, electric guitar - and a microphone so that the sound engineer (Howard) could join us for our last number. Yes - I hate harmonicas, but the last song we do (Hobo) just begs for it!
The evening went on - more great performers (a duo from St Albans, a singer from Bury St Edmunds which is - funnily enough - where B's band were performing that same night), the landlord (complete with red hair) sang and recited a monologue and at the end a man who sat quietly, sang quietly, played gently and was completely engaging. It was now 11pm (psssttt... whispered in my ear ... we are overrunning a bit...).
We got on stage, were introduced with the 'Carolyn from Shave the Monkey' bit and I introduced Shani from 'all over'. We performed well, we played well, the room was full and we went down well. Our last number - Hobo - we really did well. Howard on harmonica, and our vocals at the end just worked perfectly. It was a good feeling. I felt very comfortable on stage with Shani.
Hugs all round girls - off home in our separate vehicles. I got home about 12, and my son (who'd been playing - and won - poker all night) disappeared off to bed. But I was buzzing. Still on a mild high from a good night performing. I checked my emails, rattled a quick one off to my pal in the US and then the phone rang. Probably B - telling me how his gig had gone. No! It was Nadine phoning from the US. She knew I was up (I had just emailed her) and as it was only afternoon in her neck of the woods...
We chatted for half an hour. This conversation involved me explaning the difference between a bog and a heath (I live near a heath), a rather too detailed description of the cat vomit I had to clear up whilst talking (cat is not well, poor thing) and general, light hearted talk - learning about eachothers lives and trying to put perspective and context to our friendship.
Well, that was a treat. A good gig and a long distance call from a friend. It was now 1am. Sleep? No way - too jazzed as they say. I had a bath. A hot, relaxing bath. I eventually went to bed at around 1.45am and just as I was drifting off, B came home. We had time for a brief chat - his gig had gone well too (and he got paid for his!). His had been videoed and I'd be able to see it in the future (albeit edited, of course). That would be nice. We don't seem to get to see eachother perform much these days.
Sleep came like a warm blanket, enveloping my happy, tired, simple mind. Simple because it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Not really. Good music, good friends, and a nice warm husband to snuggle up to at the end of the day.
And on Sunday I am at Hitchin again - solo though - supporting a Welsh band called Crasdant. And I will sing the song I wrote last week, and the new song I wrote two weeks before that as well. I think ... I think I'd better go practice.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
A day recording for my audio book
Well, I knew the publishing company was small, and I knew I was going to record in a house, not a studio, so my expectations were - how can I put - moderate.
How did my recording an audio book come about? Well, I'm going to be honest, its not because I submitted my scripts and some publisher came back and said "wow, that's great, we want to publish you." No, its because I attended a training course about something completely different, NLP. The man who runs the NLP training company also runs the publishing company, and he 'offered' to publish an audio book of anyone who wished to submit.
Not very discerning, is it? But I guess he was in a good place to find authors (at least three people I spoke to on the programme were also writers) and why not? He could, I suppose, discover some great talent or maybe its just a way to build his portfolio of publications as the business grows. That, I think, is most likely.
Well, I accepted the offer, and the arrangement was made. I sent him my stories, which came back with 'Thank you, I enjoyed your book, please...' followed by instructions for how to contact the engineer and start the process. Yeah - it read a bit like a standard letter, and I'm not sure he ever read the stories, but I don't care. I was thorough in my editing, and I had the help of a very good writer too who helped me plug lots of gaps in my stories.
A date was arranged for the recording - 11 am on March 9 2007, in Tonbridge, Kent. The day before I did a 'dry run' at home, reading through, timing, even doing some last minute edits. Amazing how differently stories sound when read aloud.
Well, 9 March arrives, and with a two hour journey ahead of me I set off early. The M11 and M25 journey is a dream... easy! Eh? That's odd. Usually a nightmare. I arrive in Tonbridge at 10.10 - but the first thing I see is a sign to a country park. Off I go. Follow that road - and arrive at Haysden Country Park. It's March, and the sun is shining, and the walkers and their dogs and the grandparents and their toddlers are out and about enjoying a brisk but bright morning.
I parked the car and walked down towards the lake. The path was flooded. Turn back? No - what the hell. Posh boots, not wellies, but look - a lake (no doubt full of wildfowl) and half and hour to kill. Sit in the car? Visit the town? No way - I'd come here is if programmed it seemed.
I splashed through the flooded path and reached Barden Lake. A huge flock of Canada geese, a few ducks, a coot. I walked round the path a way and then down to the water's edge on a fishing pontoon. The water was being rippled by the wind and it felt as if I could sense the movement of the earth. I looked out towards the scraggy island in the lake and there were two more water birds - Great Crested Grebe. It was early in the season, but as if on cue they began their courtship dance: head wagging, bobbing, and circling round eachother. It was half-hearted, not the full display (and indeed their plumage was still not in full colour), but it was like a small show just put on for me. I loved it.
As I walked back up to the path, smiling at the birds' dance, a huge shaggy white dog bounded up to me. All the other park dogs had ignored me, but this one wanted to play. He pranced round me, smiling in a square faced, laughing dog way. He daubed my leather coat in mud, and looked up at me imploring me to come play too. His owner called him, throwing a ball for him to pursue. "Beautiful dog," I said. "What's he called?"
"Cromarty. His mother was called Dogger."
I smiled. "As long as he doesn't German Bite.." yeah, she'd probably heard that one before. But the dog was beautiful - big, creamy white, and if it hadn't been for his square, otter hound type face, he could have made a passing fair wolf.
Back to the car, revived by the fresh morning air after my hours in the car, I found my way to the house in Tonbridge where we were to record. A small, modern semi in a very nice residential part of the town. Tim was there, with his recording gear all set up. One room had two microphones, three baffles and a chair (my 'booth'), the other (wires trailing under doors) had his recording gear (a small desk, his CD recording machine - no idea what type, but good broadcast quality).
We exchanged pleasantries, planned the track list, and began. It was that easy. I read, I stopped if I bumbled, and re-read where needed. We stopped for tea whilst a local builder's compressor provided a subliminal hum we were not keen on. At one point Tim thought the compressor had started again - but it was my stomach.
I read, we reviewed, I did some 'extras' for him to dub in, and corrected the odd passage. I even re-wrote one small part because it made more sense for the story.
It was amiable, easy. I did not cringe quite as much as I usually do over the sound of my own voice. Maybe because you don't have to be 'in tune' for reading (and most of my recording time has usually been spent singing). I gave him two CDs with music on for segueing. The house owner returned - Jo. I had met both her and Tim at the training programme programme originally. They remembered me. Tim told me that so far John (the trainer and company owner) had got four audio books done so far. Ah - so it is a very new publishing company indeed! One about stress, one childrens book, one horror stories and next week Tim was recording some one with some erotic fiction. Well, I guess my ghost stories fit in fine then!
So, at the end of the day (we finished about 3.15) I left Tim and Jo with my thanks, and started the drive home. The sun shone. The rain fell. Rainbows arched the motorway. I drove home happy.
No - I wasn't hitting the big time with a national publisher. Yes, I have to wait three weeks for the proof disc. Yes - I have to sort out the cover pictures and make sure all the text is in place. No, I probably won't make a fortune, nor will the publishers. Yes - I can say I am published. I will have an ISBN number on my work. I will be able to sell the books myself as well as through on-line resources and through John's network. Yes, I am confident that though maybe not the greatest collection of ghost stories in the world, the stories are good enough to be enjoyed by others.
It won't be a finished product for a month or two. But when it is, I hope I have some sense of achievement. At the moment I still feel that its closer to self-publishing than commercial publishing. But I'm going to reserve judgement. I need to be objective instead of my usual hyper-self critical.
It can't be too bad - because as I left Tim said "Do let us know if you want to make another." And I just so happen to have another collection of stories ...
How did my recording an audio book come about? Well, I'm going to be honest, its not because I submitted my scripts and some publisher came back and said "wow, that's great, we want to publish you." No, its because I attended a training course about something completely different, NLP. The man who runs the NLP training company also runs the publishing company, and he 'offered' to publish an audio book of anyone who wished to submit.
Not very discerning, is it? But I guess he was in a good place to find authors (at least three people I spoke to on the programme were also writers) and why not? He could, I suppose, discover some great talent or maybe its just a way to build his portfolio of publications as the business grows. That, I think, is most likely.
Well, I accepted the offer, and the arrangement was made. I sent him my stories, which came back with 'Thank you, I enjoyed your book, please...' followed by instructions for how to contact the engineer and start the process. Yeah - it read a bit like a standard letter, and I'm not sure he ever read the stories, but I don't care. I was thorough in my editing, and I had the help of a very good writer too who helped me plug lots of gaps in my stories.
A date was arranged for the recording - 11 am on March 9 2007, in Tonbridge, Kent. The day before I did a 'dry run' at home, reading through, timing, even doing some last minute edits. Amazing how differently stories sound when read aloud.
Well, 9 March arrives, and with a two hour journey ahead of me I set off early. The M11 and M25 journey is a dream... easy! Eh? That's odd. Usually a nightmare. I arrive in Tonbridge at 10.10 - but the first thing I see is a sign to a country park. Off I go. Follow that road - and arrive at Haysden Country Park. It's March, and the sun is shining, and the walkers and their dogs and the grandparents and their toddlers are out and about enjoying a brisk but bright morning.
I parked the car and walked down towards the lake. The path was flooded. Turn back? No - what the hell. Posh boots, not wellies, but look - a lake (no doubt full of wildfowl) and half and hour to kill. Sit in the car? Visit the town? No way - I'd come here is if programmed it seemed.
I splashed through the flooded path and reached Barden Lake. A huge flock of Canada geese, a few ducks, a coot. I walked round the path a way and then down to the water's edge on a fishing pontoon. The water was being rippled by the wind and it felt as if I could sense the movement of the earth. I looked out towards the scraggy island in the lake and there were two more water birds - Great Crested Grebe. It was early in the season, but as if on cue they began their courtship dance: head wagging, bobbing, and circling round eachother. It was half-hearted, not the full display (and indeed their plumage was still not in full colour), but it was like a small show just put on for me. I loved it.
As I walked back up to the path, smiling at the birds' dance, a huge shaggy white dog bounded up to me. All the other park dogs had ignored me, but this one wanted to play. He pranced round me, smiling in a square faced, laughing dog way. He daubed my leather coat in mud, and looked up at me imploring me to come play too. His owner called him, throwing a ball for him to pursue. "Beautiful dog," I said. "What's he called?"
"Cromarty. His mother was called Dogger."
I smiled. "As long as he doesn't German Bite.." yeah, she'd probably heard that one before. But the dog was beautiful - big, creamy white, and if it hadn't been for his square, otter hound type face, he could have made a passing fair wolf.
Back to the car, revived by the fresh morning air after my hours in the car, I found my way to the house in Tonbridge where we were to record. A small, modern semi in a very nice residential part of the town. Tim was there, with his recording gear all set up. One room had two microphones, three baffles and a chair (my 'booth'), the other (wires trailing under doors) had his recording gear (a small desk, his CD recording machine - no idea what type, but good broadcast quality).
We exchanged pleasantries, planned the track list, and began. It was that easy. I read, I stopped if I bumbled, and re-read where needed. We stopped for tea whilst a local builder's compressor provided a subliminal hum we were not keen on. At one point Tim thought the compressor had started again - but it was my stomach.
I read, we reviewed, I did some 'extras' for him to dub in, and corrected the odd passage. I even re-wrote one small part because it made more sense for the story.
It was amiable, easy. I did not cringe quite as much as I usually do over the sound of my own voice. Maybe because you don't have to be 'in tune' for reading (and most of my recording time has usually been spent singing). I gave him two CDs with music on for segueing. The house owner returned - Jo. I had met both her and Tim at the training programme programme originally. They remembered me. Tim told me that so far John (the trainer and company owner) had got four audio books done so far. Ah - so it is a very new publishing company indeed! One about stress, one childrens book, one horror stories and next week Tim was recording some one with some erotic fiction. Well, I guess my ghost stories fit in fine then!
So, at the end of the day (we finished about 3.15) I left Tim and Jo with my thanks, and started the drive home. The sun shone. The rain fell. Rainbows arched the motorway. I drove home happy.
No - I wasn't hitting the big time with a national publisher. Yes, I have to wait three weeks for the proof disc. Yes - I have to sort out the cover pictures and make sure all the text is in place. No, I probably won't make a fortune, nor will the publishers. Yes - I can say I am published. I will have an ISBN number on my work. I will be able to sell the books myself as well as through on-line resources and through John's network. Yes, I am confident that though maybe not the greatest collection of ghost stories in the world, the stories are good enough to be enjoyed by others.
It won't be a finished product for a month or two. But when it is, I hope I have some sense of achievement. At the moment I still feel that its closer to self-publishing than commercial publishing. But I'm going to reserve judgement. I need to be objective instead of my usual hyper-self critical.
It can't be too bad - because as I left Tim said "Do let us know if you want to make another." And I just so happen to have another collection of stories ...
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