Sunday 28th October 2007

I was pondering on the nature of traditional music and the role of the session on keeping it alive this week as I was doing some more work on Folkipedia (you are all invited to browse and contribute - anything folk related). I'd finished the main Morris Dance traditions and had been re-reading Sharp and McIlwaine and Bacon plus doing some research into the likes of Mary Neal and Douglas Kennedy and Rolf Gardiner. Now I know history is always written by the winners, but there were some seriously bad vibes around folk music in the 20s and 30s.

So what should sessions be? A snug place to drink and chat? A place where you can hear really good musicians for free? A place for beginners to join more experienced musicians to learn the art and craft of traditional music? Well, outstanding musicianship is not the pre-requisite for a session and it should be a way of passing the tradition on (where else is there?) and an element of teaching is not a bad thing. So you decide.

As we no longer have those very close village communities that existed before the Industrial Revolution, the session is probably the last refuge of that community albeit arriving by car instead of walking down the road. The landlord of the local would not only welcome the participants and encourage them (as part of the community) and likely house their paraphernalia, but would very likely take part as well!

Now, one of the huge criticisms of the first folk revival is that Sharp effectively fossilized the songs, tunes and dances allowing no expression or evolution. He famously banned a Morris side from demonstrating a dance he had collected from them because they never danced it the same way twice. Good for them. Others had a more relaxed attitude to spirit of folk so there were some big fallings-out and toy-from-pram tossing.

Traditions evolve - they are meant to - and sessions are no different. They keep the music alive and allow it to evolve but only if they change themselves to bring new blood. The same old fogeys playing the same sets year after year is probably not going to win an award for services to Folk.

This theme, tempered with a degree of tolerance to both beginners and intolerant long servers I think makes a healthy mix for a session. The unpredictability of the Thursday session is one of its attractions. I have heard more versions of more tunes played in the Bear than ever at the Irish session. Maybe there is room for the Wednesday session to evolve too. It attracts a different sort of sessioneer already and has sadly lost one or two of the established and generous sessioneers who have been a part of the scene for a long time. I'm sure though that they would not want to stop evolution. They might like better acoustics though.

Enough ranting. With a 'Parish Notice' hat on:

• Tonight (Sunday) is the Irish session at the Anchor, Faversham
• It was nice to hear from Jez again (we did wonder via these scribblings what had happened to you). Yes, the Bev is the place to be on Wednesday night despite everything or maybe because of.
  

Monday 22nd October 2007

In the world of sessions, one thing is for sure. No two sessions are ever the same. I think the Irish session will suffer a schism and the two camps will be as I have said in this diary - the sessioneers and the we-like-the-pub-and-having-an-audiencers. We shall see what happens this week but grumpy landlords, poor parking and buy-your-own-drinks are not conducive to having sessions.

The Thursday mixed lumpy was much more subdued, much more of a session and indeed many a splendid tune crept out that hasn't raised its little head above the pub table for some time. Usually it's the Thursday session that has remarkably different fortunes from week to week, but the Wednesday session is coming up on the outside. I must poll the lads and see what's to do.

So, anything could happen this week, for its that kind of thing. I wonder if sessions elsewhere are staid affairs where the same people turn up and sit in the same seats and play the same tunes for week after week after week? It would be nice to think not but a bit of stability would be nice don't you agree?

Friday 12th October 2007

I feel a bit like Arkwright at the end of Open all hours. He used to close invariably with something like "It's been a funny sort of week". Well it has. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. The history of this Blog is littered with tales of outright bizarreness.

We said good bye to a couple of faithful sessioneers - Susannah and George. Not their real names, but that's how they introduced themselves and I suspect their Slovakian names are both unpronounceable and un-writable. But at the farewell session, there appeared as if by magic two pretty decent fiddlers who I hope will become regulars.

This week the session had a contretemps with the landlord who with all the charm and welcome of a miffed rottweiler told the session that he didn't like us sitting where we sat. Bottom line - landlord doesn't care about musicians, acoustics etc. The session is as I have said before something the landlord thinks will bring in some punters who will spend some dosh. Considering what we do is entirely free (not even a free drink offered) I think it's a bit rich. Were we being hired and paid, that's a different matter.

It comes back to the fundamental point about what a session is. It is a gathering of musicians to play music. It is not a social outing, nor a gig, nor a folk club, open mic, sing-around nor anything approaching that. It is not actually for an audience - that's incidental.

A typical incident that happened on Wednesday that only occurs when there is an expectant audience. I was playing a set and was approached by someone who started talking at me and expected a conversation. I cannot play and talk at the same time (maybe it's just blokes who are affected by this) and what was worse, it was to request 'Wild Rover' for somebody else. And then badger for a shake-of the head refusal. Without being too rude, how do you put these people off? Maybe we should just be rude. They haven't paid or anything.

One of the other horrors, is when the fearless session leader invites a whole load of mediocre-to-good musicians of whom he is in awe for some reason to the session without telling anyone. The leader then turns up much the worse for drink, fails to play any set to impress (for all the top shelf sets come out on such an occasion) and it all ends as a thoroughly embarrassing evening. Not one I want to repeat ever. I would rather perform the dance of the sugar plum fairy in a working men's club in Barnsley. On bingo night.

Courage my brave sessioneers and don't forget about folkipedia. Thanks to John for early testing and of course vigilant proof reading.