17th December 2007

Well, it's that time again (Oh no it isn't. Oh yes it is. I hear you cry). The Winter silly season when sessioneers start to get scared for their own safety and that of their instruments. All year we go into the pubs on our designated nights and play our hearts out to whatever reception there happens to be. Sometimes just the pub cat sloping off, sometimes a bus trip from the home for the bewildered. And then all of a sudden the pubs are filled with aliens. You can tell they're aliens because they have antennae and they're covered with flashing lights and they speak at full volume in a strange dialect of English that must have been learned from Australian Soap Operas that were beamed carelessly into space. Indeed many seem to have adopted names from those shows lending more credence to the theory.

Now when the aliens spot the traditional musicians they can't help themselves. Some decide that they are really talented percussionists and none too gently assist the drinks off the musicians table with their arrhythmic banging; some decide that they are really talented dancers and perform their own highly individual version of a stylised Scottish or Irish type dance. That is highly individual and stylised in the same way that fish fingers are an individual and highly stylised form of cod.

The rest content themselves with asking for some song or tune which mostly the sessioneers do not want to perform. At this time of year it's usually Fairy tale of Old New York by the Pogues and Kirsty McColl. I mean do we look like the Pogues and Kirsty McColl? Sometimes you can get away with saying to them 'You sing it and we'll accompany you'. Although this in itself is a very dangerous ploy - they just might start singing but mostly they don't know the words or if they do it's only a chorus or a line or two so it's mercifully short. Best thing to do is put your head down and plough on with a set of tunes.

But on to session news. The Bev last week was enjoyable with the usual suspects partaking of the Irish tunes and an appreciative audience. The Bear session included the traditional Watershed Carols and mince pies. Always goes down well and it is only once a year. It is normally as close to Christmas as possible and used to be on a Sunday lunchtime at the Shipwrights Arms on Oare Creek but not since our erstwhile leader fell out with the landlord. Some of us try to get the carols on the even keel of a sensible key but sadly the Erstwhile Leader often prefers Eb or Bb. I mean it's just not folk.

Two more weeks to go this year and said Erstwhile Leader is away in the land of the long white cloud and forty years in the past over the festive season so the Bear session will change a little for the next 4 weeks. Looks for white fluffy cat to stroke. Do you expect me to sing? No Mr Bond I expect you to play traditional tunes. I digress.

Sobering thought is that Friday is the Solstice and shortest day so it's all uphill to Summer after that. Hoorah! I wonder what wonderful traditions will be enacted this Winter? Look out for the Hoodeners in Kent, Morris traditions of the Welsh Borders, Wassailing and other vestiges of the folk tradition as an antidote to the commercialism.

Waes Hael!