search.noResults

search.searching

dataCollection.invalidEmail
note.createNoteMessage

search.noResults

search.searching

orderForm.title

orderForm.productCode
orderForm.description
orderForm.quantity
orderForm.itemPrice
orderForm.price
orderForm.totalPrice
orderForm.deliveryDetails.billingAddress
orderForm.deliveryDetails.deliveryAddress
orderForm.noItems
91 f


Brass Monkey at the Tricycle Theatre, Kilburn, 3rd May 1981. L to r Roger Williams, Howard Evans, Martin Brinsford, John Kirkpatrick, Martin Carthy.


We get accused of being very narrow minded all the time. I get the question time and time again, “Do you only listen to folk music?” There was a time when I used to really lose my rag over that and say “Do you realise that you’re talking about the collected experience over a few thousand years of the world’s popula- tion?! And you say to me ‘Don’t I listen to rock’n’roll,’ which is like an over-devel- oped muscle on the little finger of popular music.” I happen to like rock’n’roll, I love its energy because it’s the same as what makes folk music interesting – it comes right from the bum, right from the shoul- der-blades, and it hits you.


So my earnest wish is that people would be a little more imaginative in where they go to look for things. It doesn’t take a lot. But Topic Records lose money if they want to make a record of an English traditional singer – that’s tragic. Imagina- tion is what’s missing now, which there was in abundance in the mid-1960s – there was this momentum. You could go into folk clubs then, any week, and there’d be two hundred people because they had a reputation for interest, spark, excitement, love – because imagination was loose, and imagination is not loose any more. I blame James Callaghan…!


But aren’t you falling into the danger there of assuming that the clubs are still the hub of the folk scene, from which everything else comes? Certainly in terms of the records that we’re deluged with, there’s an absolutely bewildering variety of sources that people are going to, the instruments they’re playing, and an incredible amount of commitment that certainly wasn’t seen on records much in the ’70s. You’re certainly right that you


don’t detect much of that in the folk clubs, but is it not possible that instead of being at the hub, the clubs have now moved out onto one of the less important spokes?


I think it actually dates from earlier back than we would like to admit. I can remember even back in the ’60s, people were saying “This is great, but it isn’t half hard for new people to get in.” The root cause lies there. There was apparently a tremendous breadth of stuff going on in clubs, but I think the conservative element had already set in, with both small and big C’s. The next generation, the people who came along after ’65, were already there then. People like Robin & Barry Dransfield were already around. Nic Jones was a shadowy figure in the back of Dave Moran’s group, The Halliard. It’s really quite alarming when you think about it – most of the people who have made their mark had started by then, somehow. One or two hadn’t. But I remember meeting June Tabor by ’68; Dave Burland was around, Peter Bellamy of course.


That doesn’t mean that there aren’t any good young singers around, or that there haven’t been for 12 or 15 years. There have, but they don’t get a look in, And that hasn’t changed. The death-knell was sounded when committees took over clubs and musicians stopped running them.


One of things that happened to the


Watersons was that when they broke up and a committee took over their club, an air of seriousness descended upon it. They talked about “the Watersons’ legacy,” and never once booked the sort of people that the Watersons would book. The Watersons booked anybody who had the level of skill – you’d have Ewan MacColl & Peggy Seeger


one week, Reverend Gary Davis the next, Jack Elliott the one after. The requirement was just skill and love, and it was an abso- lutely dynamite club which people would come to week after week regardless of who was on. There’s no committee I can think of that has managed to produce that level of commitment from an audience.


Do you still listen to all the floor singers?


Oh yes. And the standard is appalling at the moment, if that’s the next question! Over the last twenty years, the standard of floor singers has dropped while the stan- dard of guest singers has risen. People have got bogged down in mannerism, including me, but skills have improved, performers have got better at their jobs. It’s hard to say generally about floor singers, because on some nights you get a really good surprise, but there are a lot of people satisfied with a very poor standard. They’re not what I’d call committed to improving their skills – the level of satisfac- tion is a good deal lower than twenty years ago. And it’s particularly noticeable in shanty singers – there are a lot of very, very bad shanty singers around now. There’s a kind of singer who chooses to sing shanties who’s satisfied with a not very energetic level of performance.


All the same, do you sense that there’s a good climate for things to happen again now? Often when pop music goes through a really glossy, manufactured phase, peo- ple start looking for alternatives.


Well, looking at it in its broadest sense, folk music is a very important strand of pop music. A country’s pop music is not interesting if all the layers right down to the bottom, which is us, are no good. If the top layer takes no notice of the bot-


Photo: Ian Anderson


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100  |  Page 101  |  Page 102  |  Page 103  |  Page 104  |  Page 105  |  Page 106  |  Page 107  |  Page 108  |  Page 109  |  Page 110  |  Page 111  |  Page 112  |  Page 113  |  Page 114  |  Page 115  |  Page 116  |  Page 117  |  Page 118  |  Page 119  |  Page 120  |  Page 121  |  Page 122  |  Page 123  |  Page 124  |  Page 125  |  Page 126  |  Page 127  |  Page 128  |  Page 129  |  Page 130  |  Page 131  |  Page 132  |  Page 133  |  Page 134  |  Page 135  |  Page 136  |  Page 137  |  Page 138  |  Page 139  |  Page 140  |  Page 141  |  Page 142  |  Page 143  |  Page 144  |  Page 145  |  Page 146  |  Page 147  |  Page 148