One for the Album. Goodbye...The Great Gig In The Sky
To coin a phrase, in a
terrible accent...”Read theez last FestBlog carefully, I will only write theez once - ever”. This is an account of some of the Very Last Day's events at
the very last multi Award Winning Hebden Bridge Blues Festival. My
screen may well be spattered with manly Hat Tears, the words somewhat
blurred with many tinctures of hop and grape, the frail torso
battered with emotional hugs from random grown-ups in need of solace and comfort and the ears still ringing with the sounds of Hysterical Hysteria. It
was an extraordinary day. Bear with me as I am obliged to rite
more words than wat I usually do.
So, to begin at the
beginning.
Finally got to see Half
Deaf Clatch on the acoustic stage. His fine album “A Road Less
Travelled” made huge waves last year and had the blues radio Djs
all a-twitch. Now he is nominated in three categories for the 2014
British Blues Awards – acoustic act, song-writer and emerging
artist. Apparently his first gig was only in 2010, so that's a hell
of a flying start!
No disappointment here.
Rolling through an accomplished set mainly with resonators and stomp
block, he took the house on a premier class delta blues ride stopping
off occasionally for a contemporary fast and furious tribute to the
legendary Mississippi Fred McDowell and more romantically to his
partner and energetic pr Red Burley. With his cap well pulled down
and crouched over his guitar, Clatch seems inclined to the
introspective and, as he says, 'he doesn't do much talking'. That in
turn makes it all about the music and the power of his rasping
vocals. If you don't have the album, go get it. True blues and no
messin'.
If you thought that you
knew all about the wonderful and charismatic Tom Attah, that cheerful
geezer from Leeds who does brilliant solo guitar and travels the
world with tales of Son
House and Bam Bam the dancer – then think
again. Tom was back at Hebden, but this time he brought The Bad Man Clan with him. The electric stage room was packed, with no place to
swing a Hat and, like moths to the Clan's flame, they were drawn in
by the dynamic sound coming from this crew. They roared, they
stomped, they sang all the words to 'Born under a Bad Sign' and 'Mojo
Workin' and they punched the daylights out of what little air was
left in the room. Tom started at 100 miles an hour and didn't slow.
With another fine guitarist and a harp alongside, as well as the back
two, Tom and The Clan cooked a storm and delivered the kind of set,
with encores, that festivals were invented for. Melting Hot.
There is always time in
The Hat's schedule for the multi-talented Red Dirt Skinners. Since
the release of their well received album 'Sinking The Mary Rose'
these guys are going
into orbit with nods from both the blues and
country music worlds and hopefully, a future, red-tape free, multi-gig American tour in the pipeline. Their set
was able to move smoothly from sweet, sad and gentle, where harp and
pick combine as in 'On the other side of Town' to their much loved
banging and rolling standard 'The Monkey and the Engineer'. You
would be hard-pressed to find any other contemporary male/female
harmonies as good, close and cool as this – and then of course, there is the beautiful swooping and
soaring of Sarah's saxophone which gives a clean, sharp and haunting overlay to
even their darkest of drinking and sad songs. They have a very
special sound.
A smart shuffle in the
rain to one of the Free Juke Joints where The Hat met up with a
familiar face, another hatted star,
Captain Barnaby Neale, the
exotic, charismatic and (when in character) slightly barking mad
front man of The Revelator Band. He told me, tongue firmly in cheek,
to make sure I used the word 'slick' if I was writing about them.
Well..er.. Playing in a bar that was bursting out on to the pavement,
this Band gives up 200% in performance fire and energy. Led by the
leaping bouncing Barnaby, they cracked through their set, throwing in
guitar changes, harp changes, dancing, waste bin drumming, ukele
picking and a quick squeeze box solo or two. The local audience, of
course, responded with vigour to 'Hell-Hull/Hole and Halifax' and
shouted for countless encores. This band is stuffed with talent, they
really enjoy themselves and they really know how to slickly (geddit?)Beat Up
The Blues! Hugely entertaining as always. See them. Book them.
Stopping briefly for a quick
lie-down, The Hat ventured again to the Main Stage, which as you all
know is based in the fabulous Baptist Chapel with its super layout and
terrific acoustics. Ok. Stop Here Everyone And Say a Blues Prayer for the Chapel Head Honchos for being brave and sticking with us when
others were less adventurous and hog-tied with miles of non-blue
tape.
Opening up was Gwyn
Ashton, who must be one of the hardest tourers around. Just looking
at his travel list wears you out, but when you talk to him it's clear
that although he plays with a trio and probably pick-up bands all
over the world, his real love is his solo performer work....and it is
a full-on solo performance
he gives. He has that Australian knack of
engaging the audience and you can see that he is totally at home on
his own or as a frontman. Using a bass drum as a stomp and employing
a range of loops and pedals, he generates a huge sound using an assortment of beautiful guitars from lap slide and twelve string to his favourite Thirties
National steel – which is a wondrous instrument with
a memorable and distinguished voice of its own. He is exactly on the money for the organisers
declared intention of giving space to contemporary blues musicians
who are not only mega-talented but are also producing their own
self-penned material to such a high level. A terrific breathless
set. The stomp and clap coming back from the audience was a genuine
appreciation of a hugely talented musician. Run and catch him before
he disappears on that tour trail again...
When The Hat was asked
to put together a blog covering the final Sunday night line-up for
the Festival way back last October, I came to the last two named
bands – and had to go and get a quick draft of Stoly. Yep. There
they were. On the same Page. Next to each other. On the same Bill. On
the same Stage. Oh Lordy, the Chapel will be bouncing. Indeed it was.
This band have honed
themselves into a class act, fronted by the fast-fingered
uber-talented Russ, they have released two superb albums 'combustion'
and 'electrickery' where Russ's stadium voice floats, roars and soars
across everything. It was an extra treat to see the Festival's very
own Hot Jenna Hooson join Russ for a quick stramash and their now cult version of 'Mama
Don't Allow'. Seeing them roar through these numbers live - in the
sound vault of The Chapel - is even better. Big numbers like 'Poncho', 'Tear Down The Sky' and 'Dazed and Confused' are just built for these guys to show their
virtuosity and the packed audience went off somewhere between gaga
and loopy with appreciation. Praise the Lord of Blues Rock and wish
them Fame and Fortune.
Barely time for a bowl
of the Fabulous Hazy's Special Secret Recipe Curry and the pews were
packing again ready for the Final Act of The Final Festival.
Northsyde fought their way through the screams of delight and
delirious adoration and took the stage.
Northsyde have been
gigging together for nearly a decade. But, the last year to eighteen
months has been phenomenal for this phenomenal band. Suddenly the
world is waking up to their brilliance. The festival gigs, hard work,
travelling, forever writing, practicing, appearing everywhere has
finally and rightly paid off. Their last album, 'The Storytellers
Daughter' is in a blues-rock league of its own and is up for a
British Blues Award this year alongside a nomination for Best Blues
Band, Best Female Vocalist, Best Guitarist, Best Drummer and Best
Bass Player. You can deduce from that what you will – but The Hat
has been telling you that for years now. I never say 'I told you so'
but I'll break the habit of a lifetime...I told you so...
This was a classic
Northsyde set. Led from the front by the lovely talent-loaded Lorna,
they took off and flew at a thousand knots around the Chapel until
Father Time forced them to land a long long time later. All the best
songs were in there. All the best solo breaks. All the best Bonded Band Brilliance. This set though, had a Magic Twist. The guitar god
Jon Amor, unlike Elvis, had not left the building. In fact, there he
was, getting up on the stage to play alongside guitar god Jules Fothergill and
the audience moved, as one, straight on from Barking into Totally Demented mode. This was the kind of gig that you would have to go on
the webthingy and beg for tickets for - assuming your bank manager would
fund you.
By now, not only was
the beer bouncing, but the mosh pit was loaded with sweating shape
throwers and the punters were up on the pews pounding and pointing.
Everyone had come together for this Final Festival Fling. Knackered
organisers, the sleepless crew, door staff, the sound and light guys, the bar
and catering king and queen, the washing-up and glasses and rubbish collecting elves, the fantastic photographers, the
friends, the children, the grandchildren, The Family – even the bloke in the hat. What an audience.
Northsyde delivered The Moment to them. Job Done.
And then there was The
Jam. Stage too small. Unrepeatable. Talent Overflow. Etta. Tears. Drink. Speeches. Tears. More
Drink. Go Home.
Didn't even win the
raffle. It's over. Go Home.
Pip Pip! Times Four - for Jenna, Jason, Kate, Paddy.
The Blues Man in The
Hat
