Just recovering from two exhausting days playing the Native American Style Flutes at the Mind Body Spirit Fair at Whitby Pavilion. Standing playing 3 to 4 one hour sets each day was a bit like distance running.
Just catching up with the rest of life.
Tony Morris
www.tonymorrispoet.com
Good night at the Station Inn, Whitby sing-around last night. Derek Elliott and Paul Hudson being away, Judy Knight ran the session in a gently efficient way so there was a friendly atmosphere. One guy who was visiting from the other side of the Pennines, and had only intended listening, was persuaded to join in by telling a couple of jokes (funny and appropriate). He was talking to me afterwards and said he’d been going through a very bad time and coming to the session, which he only chanced on by looking through ‘The Link’, had had a profound effect on him, had lifted him in such a way that he felt it had ‘turned him round’. Doctor Whitby and Doctor Folk say, “Keep taking the medicine.”
I have at last succumbed to the blandishments of using digital effects with the flutes, but only for use as additional instruments. However, the first pedal has had to go back because it buzzed loudly when connected to the mains. Another is on the way, so fingers crossed that this one works.
Must dash.
Tony Morris
www.tonymorrispoet.com
www.celebratenorthyorkshire.org
There was a recent conference in York for this Organisation and I was due to talk about the Yorkshire Garland Project and about 6 Folk clubs I was representing throughout the County including The Award Winning Black Swan Folk Club, York. The Organiser scheduled me to speak after the Plenary Session at the end of the Day.
I had a bit of a to do with her as I thought this was insulting to those I was to represent and typical of the North Yorkshire Arts Establishment and so did not attend. Her reply was to pat herself and North Yorks on the back and to tell me that if Folk was missing from the site and from the consideration of NY Arts it was the Clubs’ own fault for not putting themselves on the wonderful site (its actually rather basic).
Anyway, everyone needs to get on the site, swamp it and show them that Folk is a considerable economic force in the County. Can Yorkshire Folk Arts help to publicise the site and encourage Clubs, Dance societies and Festivals to get signed up. It is a free DIY site.
www.celebratenorthyorkshire.org
Tony Morris.
Good night at the First In Last Out, Whitby, first Saturday in the Month evening. 14 Singers and Musicians plus audience made it a Full House. Great variety guitars, mandolin, mandola, Native American Flute, Harmonica, slide guitart, traditional unaccompanied singers, poetry, traditional and contemporary folk song and other contemproray song and old favourites. As always a great eclectic mix and welcoming atmosphere.
First In Last Out (FILO) folk and accoustic Tueday Nights on track and attendances increasing as season warms up. Don’t forget first Saturday in the month, Saturday 7 March 2009; should be a great night bu need you there to make it great.
Last Saturday at the White Hart at Mickleby there was a fantastic turnout, 25 singers and musicians to raise the roof at this Club where everyone catches on to the choruses quickly and adds beautiful harmonies.
On Sunday night I was at the Station, in Whitby which Had siners and musicians from Barnsley and beyond (Spalding).
Monday night was Saltburn Folk and Accoustic night at the Marine. Some changes since I was there last, it now starts at 8.30pm and has a different MC each week, otherwise the same friendly, inclusive,supportive feeling that makes this Club special.
I have not been blogging lately as in Madeira struggling with Netbook and WIFI. I think WIFI probably stands for “Will it?………..Fuck it!”
That said I had a fabulous time as usual, lots of good food and vinho tinto e vinho branco, lots of walking and just generally chilling out. Actually it was a little chillier than usual much of the time, 14, 15 degrees, much like a British Summer but drier and certainly good to avoid the British Winter.
I was interviewed by Anne Line Abotgen, a Norwegian Radio Journalist for a regular travel programme she presents for the Nowegian equivalent of BBC Radio as I am a recognised ‘old hand’ on Madeira.
I also managed a trip out to the East side of the Island in the company of my friends Rosey and Graham with Madeira’s best taxi driver/tour guide Jose Manuel who speaks good English and is eloquent, informative, friendly and greatly entertaining.
Now it is back to work. Last night that was supporting and MCing Zoox at the award wining Black Swan Folk Club at York, a very lively trio of excellent musicians playing in innovative ways, highly recommended.
Apart from working on some of my ironstone mining songs and their provenance that are going up on the Yorkshire Garland website and the usual round of Folk Clubs the next major event is a half hour support for the Waterson Carthy + Chris Parkinson Concert at the National Centre for Early Music at York. Some songs, some poetry and some music on Native American Flute.
Tony Morris
www.tonymorrispoet.com
CAPTAIN GARDEN AND THE PIANIST
They stood on the bridge at midnight,
Captain Garden and the Pianist.
The Captain with his pistol
And, by half a bar, he missed.
The Pianist drew a white note
And then he drew a black.
He fired them in four time
And the Captain, he drew back.
The Captain, he looked long and hard.
He put his finger to the wind.
The Pianist, he did likewise
Only it signalled he didn’t mind.
The Captain he was furious.
He fired another shot.
The Pianist lifted up the lid,
He’d worked a Manchester spot.
The bullet holed the piano
But not the Pianist.
He just laughed and played along
While the Captain cursed and hissed.
But the Captain he was crafty,
The reason he was recruited,
Next day he wired the piano.
The Pianist was electrocuted.
©Tony Morris 2000
www.tonymorrispoet.com
SO IT FLOWS
Rivers run through central Funchal
Constrained by concrete,
Swollen with mountain rain,
Swollen with harbour water
At high tide.
When the flash flood is past
And the tide is low,
The rivers trickle between stones
And trash,
Ducks escaped from the Park
And a lone ibis.
This night I stare through glass
As I dine well,
Traditional Island food
But not for the dark shadows
Stepping from stone to stone
In the river below,
Hurling stones at a stray muscovy:
Their dinner is to hunt
And yet to kill.
When I leave
The muscovy is still,
Asleep on a rock:
The men, wet-legged,
Cold, gone hungry.
the mountains send little water
To meet the tide.
©Tony Morris 13 January 2009
A FINE NIGHT
The dull drone of a diesel engine
Pulsates across the bay.
In the dazzling lights they use here
To draw the fish from deep waters,
Screaming gulls pierce the silence
Of a birdsong free night,
Feeding on fish guts
As empty carcases are
Carefully coffined in ice
For the morning market.
The catch is in the price of the day
And the crews share;
How much to spare
For family and an hour or two ashore
Building reputations in bars,
Boasting of the next haul,
Raising the bar for a wager,
A wager on the weather
That balances lives.
