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39 f
Informal music on the green
How to defibrillate a morris dancer…
Wizz Jones
We’d missed the two hour Music In Magnificent Meadows walk with Pippa Rayner from the Somerset Wildlife Trust and an appointment with Telling the Bees pre- vented our appearance on the Archaeology walk with Dr Jodie Lewis, but inspired by these impressive opportunities to learn more about the surrounding environment we decided to take a stroll to the ancient local church – the setting for various perfor- mances including The Bristol Folk Choir.
We’d not even reached the bottom of the hill across the green when Wendie missed a step. Luckily we were close to the temporary lodgings of the Mendip Cave Rescue Team, who’d set up an information tent by the Mexican food stall. They were gratifyingly attired in matching weather- proof kit and the female cave rescue team member was very encouraging regarding the equality of the sport and the possibili- ties for women. As Wendie rested her feet we soon felt we’d caught up with the geog- raphy of the area. Seriously considering the prospect of exploring the caves at nearby
The Blue School Project
Wookey Hole on an upcoming introductory weekend, we left feeling strangely uncon- cerned about getting into difficulty, only to bump into Harp And A Monkey, three lads from Salford.
We’d enjoyed their modern take on old songs, their clever backing tracks, their new compositions standing solid in tradi- tion and the singer’s lovely voice rather like Guy Garvey. So now, we thought, chucking back a few pints, a laugh and a chat were on the agenda, as with every other Northern musician we’ve met. Well that’ll teach us to stereotype: we had a good laugh and a great chat certainly, but over tea and water (still) and then only after they’d had an ice cream.
And finally we saw Telling The Bees, glimpsing the brilliance of their interlocking melodies and getting a sense of how all the things they’d told us earlier – see page 26 onwards – inform their music. It had been a hugely entertaining conversation, as you might imagine with a lead singer who once counted Swampy as a close neighbour.
We walked out into the night having had a brilliant time, sad we couldn’t see it all and impressed by the festival and its organisation (personal thanks to Rachael Clarke). We’d been inspired by its inclusive communal emphasis: what with the chil- dren’s festival, the spoken word events, the workshops, the dancing, the brilliant con- cert line-up over three days, the thoughtful- ly offered insight into the area’s natural his- tory and the money raised for local projects and music education.
Priddy Folk Festival began in 1991 to provide support for the local Blue School, but it feels like it could have been going since time immemorial: I can’t remember if I imagined the maypole. As we left, the moon appeared from behind the clouds as if to underpin this sense of timelessness, or rather this quality of existing outside time. The music with its modern nuances, and the place with its sheep hurdles and charming village-fete-meets-county-fair feel, simply served to press all this home.