Byron Bay Bluesfest 2010

So here we are again at the annual report on the East Coast Blues and Roots Festival.

This year 2010 was the best ever. I must admit that I did consider not attending. I thought that the organisers were becoming complacent and taking the soft option - the choice of artists was becoming predictable and the lack of contingency in last year's deluge just topped it off. In addition the festival was moving further out of Byron Bay.

Well the artist announcements included some who clearly could not be missed, Jeff Beck, Dr John and Peter Green were old heroes but the crunch for me was Oumou Sangare, the Malian diva. Her CD Seya had been in the car since our return from the UK in June and it was my top purchase for 2009. And she was playing with Bela Fleck. But she wasn't our 2010 Bluesfest winner....

Our accommodation last year upgraded from tents to a house in Byron Bay – our family came up for a wedding so we opted for the additional expense. This year Len, Patrick and I were fortunate to share a house with Michelle, Niki and Annie, colleagues of Len. We were joined by Team Trevor for a couple of nights Trevor and Len are a Gold Coast Run team for 2010. A cheery boisterous group who viewed sleep with some disdain (except Team Trevor who hit the sack moments after arrival).

“I spit on sleep, said Pat at 1.30am after arriving back from the Bluesfest, ”it's an encumbrance, besides there's at least two hours of cricket on tv.....” After limited kip we were up and dived into a bright new day with a swim in the surging sparkling waters off Brunswick Heads, a coffee on the return journey then the Blues Brekkie on the barby, a fortifying start to the day. Tradition. Then Len was off to the pub and TAB to pick his winner. Tradition. Then a schooner or two to drown the dogs of misfortune. Or in Len's case gee gees. Tradition.
Slightly altered photo of Niki sqwawking alongside an attentive Len.

Now to the ratings. But before that I must put to rest some rumour that I won the snoring comp.

Pat reached eight on the Richter scale and Len was making noises resembling a pregnant hippo. And Niki one morning following an enthusiastic drinking and squawking session was cracking walls in the girl's bedroom according to Michelle. Not that I heard anything.



More photos can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.com/barry.mcgloin 

Thursday provided an enticing flavour of what was to come. The Avett Brothers was our first stop – a bluegrass group with great harmony vocals, intelligent lyrics from what I could hear, plus a dash of punk attitude and execution. Multi instrumentalists apart from the Japanese cellist whose expression evoked rapture or anguish, I'm not sure which, but he added an interesting dimension to the mix. Rating 9 Len 9

Following the Avetts we had two doses of prime Southern gumbo. The good doctor, Dr John, I hadn't seen previously and although almost in his seventies and using a cane, his voice and expertise on the keyboards were as strong as on record. The highlight for me was the eerie voodoo swamp song, Walk on Gilded Splinters. It was as if he had summoned the roots of his muse right there. He played two keyboards, an organ on his left and a piano on his right, sometimes simultaneously. A shrunken skull (or a child's skull....) was placed on a silken cloth on the organ. There were inscriptions on the cloth. An adult's skull was grinning on the piano together with other voodoo odds and bobs, alligator teeth, claw of cougar, penis of python.....who knows?

“We wanna thank y'all for comin on down t' see us” Rating 9.00 Len 9.5

The Good doctor and Len, both in appropriate crown and brim.

The second gumbo was Lil' Band of Gold, a band consisting of Louisianan blue ribbon players led by the tall C C Adcock. Crouching, with his guitar slung before him like a gun, Adcock stalks his music, spins around pointing his weapon at the next soloist or together with collaborator Steve Riley (leader of the Mamou Playboys) moves in on his prey – usually joshing the fabulous drummer vocalist, smiling septuagenarian Warren Storm. ABC Radio National's Lucky Ocean sat in on pedal steel, doing a fine job. Len bought the album, Promised Land, a studio recording which has the diversity of their repertoire but for me doesn't reach the live show. You might say “it's a studio recording ya wombat” and do you know what, you would be right.

Rating 9 Len 9

Leaving Lil' Band of Gold quite enthused we popped into Orquestra Buena Vista Social Club who sounded musically very good as you'd expect but not quite what we wanted to hear at the time.

Rating 8 Len's rating 7

Len headed for Tribali a lively band from Malta who he rated a big 9, then to Jack Johnson who didn't do much for him at all – rating a disappointing 7. I ended with Jools Holland & his Rhythm and Blues Orchestra – about 20 musos on stage putting out a very professional, slick selection of blues in various forms, jump blues, R'n B, jazz blues etc. All well done but cabaret for me, there was no edge to it at all, but the audience seemed to be enjoying it. Rating 7

Hat Fitz and Cara Robinson

Hat Fitz for me has always epitomised the core of the Bluesfest. This is blues in its most primitive and raw state. This is where it all came from, one man with a box of wood and wires and a voice full of wailing emotion, energy and power. This is where rock stems from, this is the Rosetta Stone.

Hat was chuffed at Byron, glowing in his new love.

A pissed voice kept yelling for Po' Boy. Hat responded “I'm no poor boy now, look at that....”, nodding significantly over to Cara. “ All those trips to Ireland, coming back with friggin' leprechauns, four leaf clovers [sic]. Look what I came back with this time....!!”

Together they sang Blind Willie's Delia, Cara adding flute. Holy shit. Where was the manic Hat of old we asked? The one with mad eyes popping, voice raging against providence, flailing his guitar like a beast possessed? Is this Hat Lite? Could there be such a creature.....?? What happened to Itchy – he's obviously been scratched?
OLD  HAT

Well, as it turned out what we have is a more musically adventurous Hat. Sometimes it works and sometimes it misses, but when it hits, as in their version of Delia when Hat actually sings with a low rich vibrato, or in Nobody's Fault but Mine when Hat's slide has such a delicate sensitive touch, it sounds great. Cara has a rich adaptable voice, she can sing Bessie Smith, sound like Bonnie Raitt, and can probably sing in the ornamented Irish traditional style, sean nos.

I bought their new CD Beauty and the Beast – Hat reckons ''she's the beast....'' - it is nothing if not eclectic. The addition of Cara's flute and whistle, plus Jim Conway's harp on a couple of tracks, Jacko (Jackson who else?) on fiddle, others on tuba, clarinet and cornet all go to vary the musical palette. Wicklow Feel sounds like Barney McKenna and Ciaran Bourke from the Dubliners, albeit with a hangover. It's a bit clunky in parts and I'm not sure whether it may have
been the fault of the bodrhain player. Perhaps it could have been ironed out in the mix. Euronator is flat out RL Burnside dance and it works! Backdoor Man is blues rock with great harmonies. Fitzmulholland is a folky hippyish instrumental, skipping around the fire. I think it points to a good future. Hat is recognising the potential of his voice and playing, and Cara's influence will hone his art alongside her own.

Rating at Byron 9.5 Len's rating 9.5

Ye Olde Brit Blues Blowers

I remember seeing John Mayall in the early 80s at the appropriately named Punchbowl Pub where drinks were sold in plastic cups, everything was nailed down. You had to arm wrestle the Gatekeeper to get in. And she always won. Mayall was supported by Mick Taylor and John McVie, I can't recall who was on the tubs – I'm sure it wasn't Mick Fleetwood. Anyway a fab lineup with Mayall pretty well in his prime, shirt off after a couple of numbers to highlight the rich dark Californian sun tan, hair by Charles blown by the strategically placed fan while he sang “It's a hard road 'til I die”. You could be forgiven for cringing at the irony.




Almost thirty years later Mayall can still put out a show which pleases the punters. Nothing real flash, he can still do Parchment Farm, All Your Love and other staples – the band was good, his guitarist a cut above, and yeah, it was a steady show. Rating 7.5 Len was more impressed and gave 9.5.

Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac is recognised among aficionados and critics as being the best Brit blues band of the 60s. Not only blues but pop rock – Apple wanted to sign them. The man at the helm was guitar maestro, singer and songwriter Peter Green. A hero of mine, I loved his stuff with Mac – check out the live Boston concerts, Greeny duelling with Danny Kirwan. A Mojo best guitarist ever list of the late 90s placed him at No 2, just behind Hendrix. Well those lists are always contentious but there is no doubting the man's deft touch, subtle and soulful, but his talent could also encompass rock, r 'n b and even the Spanish cante hondo style. And his lyrics always hit the mark. But Greeny dropped out for about 30 years before being coaxed back in the 90s.

The marquee was chokkers with those who wanted to see The Legend levitate, self combust, burst into fits of uncontrolled mirth or just play Apache. Surprisingly he starts with Oh Pretty Woman – a Mayall standard lifted from Albert King. He's seated and the poor old bugger is studied and tentative, his fluidity has diminished and he looks like a rabbi in a mosque, but you feel the audience willing him to succeed. After a while he seems to be enjoying himself. His voice has less strength but his singing is as soulful as ever. He did a great version of ''Dark End of the Street''. Crowd pleasers such as ''Oh Well'', ''Black Magic Woman'', and ''Albatross'' were there – the last without the harmony support guitar lines – presumably the 2^nd guitarist could have played them.

Rating 8, Len's rating 9

Jeff Beck has fared the best of ye olde Brit Blues Blowers. His playing is better than ever. This is where Peter Green might be, had he not blown his brain with acid. Of course Greeny has said that he's only [sic] a blues guitarist, but compositions such as The Supernatural, The Green Manalishi, much of the LP Then Play On would discount his assertion. Beck is close to Hendrix's muse. A superb player, inventive, controlled, a master of his music. Great versions of Rollin and Tumblin, A Day in the Life and Somewhere Over the Rainbow – the only songs/tunes I was familiar with – must get his video Live at Ronnie Scotts. His support band was excellent, the young female bassist – an Aussie someone said - was a marvel.

Rating 9.5, Len's rating 9.5.

Ancient Black Blues Guys Who Still Stand Tall

The second time I've seen Buddy Guy and like before he astounds with his energy and skill. He defies all laws of nature, the guy, that is Buddy, must be at least 300 years old. Seriously he is walking museum, a timeline direct to Muddy Waters and then to Son House. When he was a sideman for Chess, Son House, M. John Hurt and Skip James had yet to be rediscovered. He was part of the young guns trio which emerged in Chicago in the fifties, alongside Otis Rush and Magic Sam. Listen to his complete Chess recordings for some of the best slow burning blues – but also jazz and pop! Listen to his later albums, Green Tea and Skin Deep - just as intense.

As a performer he is electrifying. His vocals and guitar playing are becoming stronger still, if that is possible – have you seen the Stones' Shine A Light where Buddy Guy steals the show? This is the artist so admired by Jimi and Stevie Ray. There is no other blues performer alive who has this street cred, pure ability and excitement. Astounding. 
Rating 9.5 Len's rating 9.5

Both Buddy Guy and Taj Mahal are no strangers to the sexual blues metaphor eg. I'm a crawling elephant's trunk etc Yet between them they have about 450 years. Ok my maths are crook, but somewhere thereabouts. Can they still get it up, metaphorically? Betcha.

Initially I thought Taj was a folky bluesman, educated middle class doing faithful reproductions - not the dark hard lived Mississippi blues which continued electrified in the Chicago tradition. But Taj is Mr Eclectic and has branched out over the years into various forms eg African, Hawaiian, Caribbean, gutsy r 'n b and this wealth of styles comes together in his entertaining performance. Blues has widened in its scope, you don't have to be a cotton picker to play it, or express its emotions. John Mayall would agree. You can polish your licks in a tree house in suburban Manchester. You don't have to blow your harp on a street corner to earn a dime. These are the days of the middle class educated yuppie blues person (YBP). Where are all the Blind Willies??  Or, for that matter the Big Willies and Little Willies? 

Rating 8.5 Len's rating 10

Bela Fleck's African Project feat. Oumou Sangare (and her band)

Banjo virtuoso Bela Fleck is a humble dude. If you thought he was the headliner here, as the advertising indicated, you would have been mistaken. It was Oumou Sangare's show all the way.

When I saw Oumou's name on the list of artists I had to attend. I had bought her last CD Seya in London last year and it has been in the car since then. Fabulous. Bela Fleck's African Project CD has Oumou on three tracks including the wonderful Djorolen, and they are among the best on his album. On stage he took a back seat adding his banjo subtly to the tapestry of traditional and modern instrumentation. I really enjoyed it but there were mixing problems which slightly marred the concert. Oumou's voice was fabulous as you'd expect, and she tried to communicate to the audience in French but heck, some of that audience would have been challenged in English.... 

 

Rating 9.5, Len's rating 9.5

The Winner Justin Townes Earle

Ah yes, you have all these bands with their gizmos and volume but all it takes is a voice, a hollow box with wires, energy and imagination. It was like watching Hank Williams or Woody Guthrie. A true line of tradition. He stepped as he said in his slurred diction from the plane to the stage folks,

this lanky (186cm - 6'5”), skinny guy with legs like poles and a body like a ventriloquist's dummy has talent, attitude, and liquor. He stoops, leans in over the mic, does his Backstep Hunch and Stoop, leans in again. We were blessed, though I doubt this son of outlaw country star Steve Earle would have put it like that. He also won our sartorial award. His mum didn't dress him. He said he and his dad don't get along – too much alike "I ever hope to hear, I am my father's son/ I've never known when to shut up/ I ain't fooling no one/ I am my father's son/ we don't see eye to eye/ and I'll be the first to admit I've never tried/ it sure hurts me, it should hurt sometime/ we don't see eye to eye/ I was a young man when/ I went down the same road as my old man.". But he said his good side comes from his mum “and I still see wrong from right/ cause I've got my mama's eyes”. Ex Drive By Truckers Jason Isbell backed him well on a number of songs, both puffing on ciggies and cracking tubes, like a couple of musos sharing a song, before we became so clinical.

Rating 10 Len's rating 10.

 The madness of gypsy punk band Gogol Bordello

Such manic energy from this NY gypsy conglomeration had the audience jumping like maniacs.

It was The Pogues on fast forward. The music is eclectic – gypsy with ska, dub, reggae, rai, punk, metal, techno, rap, flamenco etc etc. Leader Eugene Hutz leaps around like a fox on fire, he knows no boundaries, his energy is immense. Exhausting to watch, but exhilarating.

Rating 9.5 Len's rating 9.8 (wow!!)

Surprise of the Festival

10cc. What? Yup this pop rock unit from the 70s was the Big Surprise. Smart lyrics and harmonies, clever musical structure topped by the ability to effortlessly reproduce music which is light years away from Justin Townes Earle, yet although arty pop, still rocks with resonance. Well it did for us and the audience. To tell the truth I would not have bothered going to see them, although I loved Une Nuit a Paris from The Original Soundtrack LP way back in the mid seventies, but we were settled in the marquee and couldn't be moved. So. We experienced a sensational show. Tops. All respects to them, bro.

Rating 9.5 Len 9.8 (wow again!!)

Kev Carmody

Kev never fails you. He's so humble about his musical ability, yet his lyrics and delivery are passionate, his communication skills well honed. Kev sits down and chats away, it's like being in his lounge room – sure it would be no different. Well this time on From Little Things he was joined by his guests, a whos who of Aussie music including Troy Cassar Daly, Dan Sultan, Blue King Brown. It brought a tear to a glass eye.

Rating 9 Len 9.5

Rockwiz

Rockwiz ran for three afternoons with the alluring and entertaining Julia at the throttle. The show is great fun, the presenters, guests and audience all contributing to the carnival. A couple of the guests were impressive singers, particularly a woman from Adelaide – I hope they put it on TV.

Others:

Dynamites feat. Charles Walker Rating 8 Lens rating 8

The Snowdroppers 8 9

Joe Bonamassa 7 9

(Joe was technically excellent, but subtlety is not his middle name – too much flash and clamour for my taste, metal would welcome him but.....everyone else seemed to enjoy him. Maybe I should give myself a good talking to.....)

John Cruz 7.5 9

Narasirato Pan Pipers 7.5

Ozomatli 9

Renee Geyer 9

Galactic feat. Cyril Neville 8 8

The Flatlanders 7 7

Next year?

Maybe, if we're lucky...

Kings of Leon, Hazmat Modine, Burning Spear, Robert Plant and The Strange Sensation, Mike Henderson & the Bluebloods, Legendary Shack Shakers, Detroit Cobras, Sierra Leones Refugee Allstars, Ska Cubano, Salif Keita, Issa Bagayogo, Baaba Maal, Ba Cissoko, Martha Wainwright, Richard Thompson, Wayne The Train Hancock, Jo Jo Zep, Neville Brothers, The Pogues, Graham Parker, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Daddy Cool, Buddy Holly

.

Denise and I spent 1 month recently in England and France with a stop over in Singapore. A fabulous success. Photos can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.com.au/barry.mcgloin

They are split into three albums, Singapore, London, Cornwall May 2009, Cotswolds, Bath Oxford, London, and lastly South of France and London again, June 2009.

When you get into Picasa, click on the album, then on 'Slideshow', and then increase the slide speed from 3 secs to 5 secs - sometimes the captions run too slow, and go to 'view' and click on 'full screen'.

Soundtrack: I brought my IPOD with me, replete with a mile of musical choices. Also I took two Cds bought recently in Canberra, Malian diva Rokia Traore's latest excellent Cd Tchamantche and jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter's Steady Groovin' compilation. Also I nipped into the Oxford St HMV emporium, as you do, and picked up the latest album from (also Malian diva) Oumou Sangare called Seya, absolutely fab – my review is on Amazon.com and Amazon UK.

Also..... the recently released double Cd of Buddy Holly 'rarities' called ''Down The Line''. Not really rare, most have been released previously in various forms since Holly's death in 1959 and in fact since the 50 year copyright restriction has now exhausted, we have had a slew of Holly releases over the last three years. This last should near enough see the end of it, but who knows?

Anyway we listened primarily to Oumou Sangare's Seya as we travelled and somehow it was not incongruous with the trip.

Buskers

Buskers were a high standard. A jazz guitarist at the Pimlico markets was cool, a guy paying Irish jigs and reels in the underground tunnel at Westminster was on fire. A gypsy group called Karpatz played at the Uzes markets, cap out front for a Euro or two, and were vocally and instrumentally astounding – you van view them at http://www.urskarpatz.com/Demo
then click on 'Extraits Video' and 'Vissioner' – well worth a geek!
While wandering outside the Palace of the Popes at Avignon, ok lost up a narrow medieval lane, we happened upon a choral group of eight singing classical – with the setting and resonance of sound - cést perfectment!!

Singapore
Scarlett Hotel, boutique award winning accommodation next to Chinatown booked by our daughter Cara as a present.

Singapore Linedancers near Chinatown, guys and gals in Western gear, boots, hats belts, dancing to country pop - some might observe incongruous..... but then so are Scruffy Murphy's and Durty Nellie's Irish pubs in Singapore – do you get the impression that the Irish are somewhat complacent in their day to day body cleansing habits?? As Sister Philomena used to say, “The teeth might be green but the soul is sweet....have youse kids washed your bums this week?” But the real floor stopper is Obama's Irish Pub – I kid you not - what the....???
Our taxi driver spoke English well and enthused about developments, long term goals with a great sense of ownership and pride. They have a large desalination plant which commenced construction in 2000 and opened in 2005, providing 10% of it's needs. Recycling provides 15%, and they have dammed three rivers to provide a large catchment area for rainfall. At the moment they also import from Malaysia.

Singapore, orderly and neat, light years from the familiar (and welcoming) chaotic cacophonous swarm and aromas of other parts of S.E. Asia

I can't believe it. We bought bowls of noodle soup which could be easily described as a bit rustic, but then we found Chinatown proper, with its choices of fine Asian dining. And we're only staying one night...D'oh
we almost missed the plane due to a leisurely breakfast. Had to run for it. Phew....

London

O met us at Heathrow. He was a little late, and we looked for the big fellow. “You can't miss him” I said to Denise. “You've nailed it” she replied. Eventually he materialised carrying little Alice. Deb cooked us salmon that night. Lovely.

O jogs about 7ks into work each day – he's looking slim and fit. So, Denise and I after a day's touristy doings decided to walk back to Parson's Green along the embankment. “'Can't be too far'' I observed from the rosy grinning glow inspired by the Marquis of Granby's hospitality. So, we set off lively with confidence and a few pints of fortitude on board, making a couple of pit stops and fuel replenishers along the way. An unfortunate result of the replenisher is that the subsequent pit stop must be found. The Chelsea embankment has limited pit stops apart from Chelsea gardens and after 5 ks Denise found it necessary to flag down a cabbie. Regardless, a good effort all up.

Deb took us to a fab coffee bar in Fulham. On our previous visit to the UK in 1998 we had found the standard of coffee to be quite ordinary, in fact the standard of food generally, both restaurants and in supermarkets, to be below par – vegetables were limp and aging, and take aways and pub meals were uninspired, couldn't even find fish and chips to match the Aussie coastal product. Admittedly you can't really generalise but we did travel up as far as Inverness and down to the South Coast, supping and sipping at many places in between. Ironically we found the curries to be excellent, and all B&Bs provided top breakfasts. This time we found many good coffees, take aways and the supermarket fare has superb variety from the provinces and Europe, and is fresh.

Beers and wines in the pubs and supermarkets offered great variety with wines from Europe, South America, South Africa as well as numerous Antipodean varieties. You can buy a semi reasonable quaffer for five pounds, but the Aussie quaffers such as Jacobs Creek were up around ten pounds – approximately 20 dollars, which is about double their cost here. Cousin Glenn Snashall offered a robust table thumping South African red running at 14.5%, among other moorish drops – Glenn likes to keep at the cutting edge of epicurean glug. We had a few moorish drops along the way...well more than a few.

The English ales are for the average Antipodean an acquired taste, and most Antipodeans wouldn't bother enduring the acquiring process. That said, serious UK ale aficionados might reasonably opine that, unlike our wines, most bulk Aussie lagers are bland and characterless – however we do produce some excellent boutique numbers. My top spot on the trip went to a German wheat beer, Hacker Pschorr, and I did enjoy the Cornish Tribute ale, and from Glenn's recommendation a honey and elderflower ale from Witherspoon pub, and lastly Theakston's Old Peculiar, a hearty brew with clout from the depths of Yorkshire.

We chanced upon this wee pub in Soho called The Lyric which offered lunch specials for five pounds. So, Denise chose the salmon, spinach and sundried tomato penne and I chose the grilled goat's cheese and roasted vegetable stock with pesto and balsamic reduction. Wow, for 5 quid each, and they were both delicious, so much so that we returned the following day and they were just as good!! That's the sort of thing you can expect from retirees.... On the first visit there we encountered a real East End character called Ray Isaacs who was about 65 and had something of a Keith Richards demeanour about him, appeared to be permanently wobbly, and had a face that had travelled a mile or three.
“Ere, come art ere“ demanded the wobbly Ray “ah clocked it soon as ah saw it – this door ere used to be where the club woz an Brian Jones came out of ere in 1963”. Well, it emerged that Ray was in the film and photography business in the 1960s and he's sitting on a stack of old Rolling Stones photos, which in the fabulous UK world of nostagic hype would make a good retirement booster for old Ray.

Owen's berries and cream/ice cream in London and Cornwall. Yum!

The UK tabloids and free press are pretty well up to, or down to standard from what I remembered, in fact they are probably worse now. The big item was Pete (Andre) and Katie whatsername's breakup. ''Pete stunned while Katie flees the country'' and ''Kate takes two kids but leaves disabled son'' …..a popular girl. And two weeks previously they had spoken about having another baby. Well, I never. Makes you wonder what the world's coming to......

The other big newsitem was a series on Brit TV – Britain's got talent? The short answer, and one which was agreed upon by many commentators is that it has very little. The star of the programme who was expected to win was a 49 year old frumpy Scottish spinster, “I've never been kissed and this is not an advertisement ha ha”, called Susan Boyle who floored everyone with her vocal ability. I heard one radio personality say ”she's only got to say the wrong thing, get cocky........” And for some reason she didn't win. If you haven't seen the video it is quite amazing


MPs on both sides of parliament, including the Home Secretary, were falling on their swords with abandon following the rental allowance scandal whipped up by an indignant Daily Telegraph which tantalisingly leaked details each day, leaving the populace baying for blood. Arff Arff gimmie blood. Sluuurp. Some of the more extraordinary claims included clearing a moat, maintaining swimming pools, bags of horse manure, building a $AUD2500 duck island, even down to day to day living requirements such as a bath plug, biscuits and a trouser press. Food bills were claimed when parliament was in recess, false mortgage interest payments were claimed and one MP claimed for a house which was outside London and not in her constituency. “Snouts in The Trough” loudly proclaimed one free tabloid.

The most intriguing aspect was that the claims had been paid in the first place. There was hardly a mention of the approval process or the policy guidelines which allowed for the payments to be made. It seems that MPs, being intrinsically honourable, as they have been for centuries...., sign a declaration to state that the expenses have been incurred in the performance of their duties. Consequently civil servants are reluctant to challenge, although it would appear that a culture supporting the expectation of approval may have developed. In Oz we have a more realistic approach; our honourable bastards' claims are expected to be dodgy from the start.

The elegance of London. You can walk for miles through parks and gardens in the centre of London. This is what makes London great. You are surrounded by natural beauty and history; there is a continuance which has somehow survived the Great Fire and Nazi blitz. The castles, cathedrals, abbeys, churches and towers are reminders of the order of the estate over the centuries.

The monarchy Vs the republic appears to be a dead fish. Support for the monarchy which dipped post Princess Diana to 60% is now riding around 80%. Her Majesty is highly respected, the Duke's faux pas are more or less tolerated and Prince Charles is despised by architects but liked by a couple who live at 45 Horseshoe Drive, Notting Hill. The Duke and Camilla are popular game for cartoonists and Anne seems to be keeping a low profile. Whether the monarchy will maintain its present legal status in future is anyone's guess. This extract from an online debate “The monarchy is at the apex of a system of unearned privilege and power, as far as I and many others are concerned. It all flows from this ludicrous throwback and it’s holding back as a country - helping to ensure that the average and chinless continue to be promoted far beyond the talented and, er, chinful. Personally I find the very idea of inherited power, let alone one under the system of primogeniture, extremely offensive. The good news is that while present incumbent is a game old bird, her successor is a king-sized prat, whose succession will change the game completely”.


The churches are struggling in these days of swift communication where belief in a Caring God is challenged by news reports of natural catastrophe, random violence, past actions of rogue priests, historical reassessments in recent books, and atheism. Churchgoers are primarily older folk, churches are closing, the number of priests are dwindling and recruitment is lower than it has ever been. Ex churches are being used now as retail stores, restaurants, YMCAs, and ironically, mosques – the numbers of Muslim faithful are increasing. The RC church may have to embrace married priests if they mean to survive – not such a bad idea in a modern world and not incongruous with early history. We saw some marvellous old churches, some dating to Saxon times, and the fascinating recently built Westminster Cathedral, the seat of Roman Catholicism in the UK. This building is ostensibly Roman/Byzantine, which in these days when the Church might be embarrassed by such ornate display might bring to mind the reputed words of St Francis of Assisi when first seeing St Peter's Basilica in Rome “But where are the lillies of the valley?”

Coincidence. Bumping into Judy, Doug and Roy from Canberra at Whitehall was an unexpected highlight. Also the Box Cottage we rented in Broadwell in the Cotswolds had a commendation in the book from an ex colleague of Denise in Canberra!! Small world innit?

Dogs are welcomed just about everywhere in England's fair and pleasant land – and in some establishments where children are not – but owners must be on a leash. CCTV is everywhere and owners who do not bag their deposits will be rounded up, put in a vat, boiled down, canned as dog meat or dried as tasty morsels. Advert: ''Dogs just love Eric, so crunchy. 20 kilo bags of Eric on special at your local Safeways.” Seriously, a photo in a shop window in Chipping Camden showed a doggie and owner walking away from a poop on the pavement; the caption read “Here in Chipping Camden we clean up after ourselves, this sort of behaviour is not welcome”. Must have been a visitor otherwise his name would have been included.

Superb scenery in North Cornwall and the Cotswolds. Check out the photos! The Cornish Coastal walks are magnificent, quite arduous in parts, although an average fitness level will see you a fair way down the track, and the aromas of wild flowers are intoxicating, not to mention the Cornish Tribute Ale which you richly deserve at the end of the day! We also did part of the Saints Walk from the village of Little Petherwick over to Padstow, following the river through woods and meadows. We rented a house on the headland of Port Isaac, which is where they film the Doc Martin TV series and they were filming while we were there – actor Martin Clunes seems a pleasant chap.

The Cotswolds is a much gentler walking terrain with quiet refined picturesque towns and villages such as Chipping Camden with it's honey hued limestone buildings. We took the track to the hill above the town where they have held Olimpick [sic] Games since 1612, with a break in the Civil War and the 1800s because of disruption by hooligan elements (what's new??). Sports include singlestick, wrestling, tumbling, throwing the sledge hammer, jumping in sacks, dancing and shin-kicking. We rented the ivy covered Box Cottage in the lovely village of Broadwell, about a mile's walk up the hill to Stow on Wold, then taking the Monarch's Way, a wildflower fringed path above the meadow, which was used by the escaping Charles II during the Civil War. The Fox at Broadwell is a homely pub with friendly barmaids and the food is top value. The Fox at nearby Lower Oddington also has friendly staff and our meals were both superb, run by an Australian head chef...!!

Uzes in southern France is a wonderful destination!! We caught the Rynair el cheapo flight 89p fom Luton – you then pay your baggage and taxes and the return trip was around 130 euro for the two of us. It was wonderful to touch French soil again after 44 years. Denise and I had grape picked at St Michel De Fronsac outside Bordeaux so long ago. Now, we hired a vehicle at the airport and drove to Uzes along the freeway. Driving in France is no problem. The roads are excellent and well signposted, must remember to drive in the left lane. The gears, indicators and wipers are opposite but you soon get use to them.... not counting a few moments of senior confusion even towards the end of the trip.
Uzes is a charming medieval town in the Languedoc-Rousillon region with castle, cathedral and market square. Our host Mme Jalabert kindly shows us around centre ville appraising certain restaurants, cafes, boulangeries et patisseries.

Most people in this part of the world don't speak English or prefer to speak French and fair enough so I had brushed up my vocabulary by reading French For Dummies which improved my vocabulary to the point where, between Mme Jalabert's English and my fractured Francais, we were able to communicate un petit peu.

The water from Uzes fed a Roman acquaduct in the early part of the first century and so we descended the valley outside the town to view the remains.You can walk through part of the channel which is intact, amazing. We then decided to ascend the other side and follow a track which took us some kilometres to another village, medieval of course, called St Siffret.
Once there we stood at the lower end of narrow roads wondering which one to take. I asked a gentleman opposite, ''excusez moi monsieur, nous cherchons la rue a centre ville?'' He asked whether I wanted St Siffret or Uzes and then asked in a Yorkshire accent whether we were from New Zealand or Australia, apologising for not being able to tell the difference!!

The following day we drove to the Pont Du Gard a magnificent three tiered bridge built by the Romans primarily to carry water to the city of Nimes. On the way back we checked out a number of villages, including Saint Quentin La Poterie which specialises in the sale of pottery art, all of which looked superb to me. But the striking aspect of the village was that the walls and window shutters of houses were painted different colours.

We drove to Avignon the following day taking a lovely couple we'd met from Perth, WA, Robert and Elizabeth Ford. The astounding Palace of the Popes from the 11th century is in splendid condition, check the photos. We also saw the famous bridge – ''sur le pont D'Avignon, on y danse etc.'' A visit to Nimes the following day was not without incident, this again with Rob and Liz, in fact Liz, as I remember was helping me find a parking spot ''turn left here Barry'' and so I did, ''turn right here'' and so I did and suddenly we found ourselves back in the middle ages down narrow streets, growing darker as we drove through this ancient labyrinth, squatty stall holders looking askance, people moving aside, making the sign of the cross, dark clouds gathering oh shite I'm gonna have to reverse outta here.....then redemption। A light between narrow walls, we squeezed through and yea!! We shall be released!!













The Roman ampitheatre at Nimes looms large out of the modern sunny shopping street like some cold monolithic reminder of ancient order and blood lust. In fact the structure is still intactus and is used now for bullfights where modern gladiators use their skills against the power of provoked bulls. Mostly they win, but outside the ampitheatre is a statue of a young matador, a local hero who was gored to death. The risk remains. The perception of such blood 'sport' has shifted, marginally.

The return to the airport was not without incident. A faultless drive in the wee Fiat took us to the freeway toll, nothing free about it! Two euros fifty. I seached my pockets. A voice came from the machine ''Cette un machine automatique etc etc” A mammoth truck ten stories high pulled up un centimetre from my boot, breathing heavily. Denise searched her bag – always a lengthy process. Rob and Liz delved into their bags and pockets. Nothing. I looked around for someone. Anyone. Not un sausage to be seen. The air compressor of the truck blasted, it was breathing down our rear window. ''Cette un machine automatique, pay by notes, coins or credit card (in French)”. I'm starting to panic. ''C'mon, someone must have something....” Denise handed me a fifty Euro note. I fed the machine. A loud exclamation came from the truck ''Sacre bleu....” We hit jackpot. No change in notes. A river of coins dropped into the basin, and kept coming. I'm scooping. Scooping. To give the truck driver his due, he didn't blast the horn, but waited patiently while I scooped.....and my passengers all laughed themselves silly. Yeah, ok.....I'm smiling now.....

Byron Bay Bluesfest 2009 – the ratings and rundown

Byron Bay Bluesfest 2009 – the ratings and rundown

Well, an eventful bluesfest, as always, although the enjoyment was marred somewhat by the

sludgefest. Those who have attended the bluesfest will know you can pretty well count on rain, and when merciless moisture mixes with top soil for an extended period you get black sludge, and when the organisers have little contingency in place, despite the likelihood on weather forecasts and history, you get Sludge City.

Unfortunately Denise and I had to depart on Sunday, however you can cram in a fair amount of acts in that period and despite the detraction of the trudge through sludge the craik was good.

I took no Bluesfest photos this year, having tired of the battle with security staff and the ever changing stipulation. This year 'professional equipment' was disallowed, last year it was detachable lens, previous years it was anything which could take a video. I had visions of trying to persuade Security that my camera is non professional – to a security person who has absolutely no idea, like last year when I made the point that most mobile phones can take quality pics. Too much. The irony is that photos posted on the net will undoubtedly boost the image of the festival. I tried one year to get a press pass on the basis of my community radio involvement but did not receive a reply to my carefully considered letter....

This is my seventh Bluesfest and it occurred to me that maybe the organisers are opting for tried and true inclusions rather than taking a risk with lesser known performers. Admittedly it's the 20^th anniversary and comforting to have recognised 'product' and Kasey Chambers for example, or Eric Bibb or Luka or Ben Harper or John Butler, Xavier or Paul Kelly will attract a following but the downside is that the Bluesfest may be perceived as passée, and yer proper roots music is never passée. Figures may indicate attendances are growing but is it growing as fast as it might be if it had more of a cutting edge image?

The inclusion of 'world music' acts should be applauded however Tinariwen have been popular in Europe for some years now, as has Angelique Kidjo – there's hardly risk there. I wonder if the Booker of Acts is checking out emerging talents through Songlines or Froots mags or Charlie Gillet's BBC programme. Emerging acts have a cost advantage surely? Lesser known left field blues/ R'n B acts could add spice eg Hazmat Modine, Detroit Cobras, Legendary Shack Shakers, C.C. Adcock. Anyone's thoughts, or am I flatuating in the wind? Great to see ska and reggae genres included, dammit I missed The Special Beat... hey Ska Cubano.... there's another possibility.

My faves:

Tinariwen earthy raw groove, is ok? Betcha. Heart warming to see so many enjoy these guys and not understand a word. Music, the universal language.

Sonny Landreth superb inventive guitar playing, vocals, band and repertoire, miles away from the clichéd blues of so many bands

Angelique Kidjo such energy and power in such a small package, and what a wonderful voice, loved her version of Gimmie Shelter and of course Voodoo Child, not discounting her own great material

Lucinda Williams seemed reticent to make contact with the audience at first but warmed up. Terrific band and choice of songs but where was Lake Charles?

Blind Boys of Alabamy never fail to satisfy, a 'stimulus package'

Seasick Steve great patter, enjoyed sensitive Steve singing to the girl from the audience

Ayo European/Nigerian cool, obviously happy to be at the Bluesfest

C W Stoneking a bit flat at first, or maybe me, but caught the latter half of the second set which was lively

Hat Fitz usual manic self but where's Itchy?? The ''Young bloke on The Kit'' is a good drummer and a couple of numbers sounded great but Itchy has that compatibility which comes with experience

Watermelon Slim blues standards lifted by his virtuosity and personality

Pugsley Buzzard authentic growl and good pianist. Loved the version of Tom Waits' The Briar and the Rose.

Eric Bibb caught the encore, a winning, warm performer and showing strong vocals

Stiff Gins loved the harmonies, particularly the koori song, but dammit I missed Archie Roach and Ruby Hunter

Below is Len's report on the two days I missed, plus his ratings, based as they are on an impeccable rating assessment regime and gut feeling.

Len's ratings

Monday was a pretty miserable day weather-wise and a few of the acts didn't really work for me...

From a weather perspective; Patrick and myself decided to leave at the end of the second last act...in our case we concentrated on the Crossroads Stage, the second last act being the Easy Star All-Stars (thought they would be better than they were...concept sounds good but I expected more reggae less cover band). The rain was pissing down; the 'exit' walk-ways had up to a foot of water/mud in them; the car was parked some 4 km away....man, an adventure getting out of the place in those conditions. In Patrick words; "we'd qualify for the regular army doing this; forced march in driving rain, in the middle of the night, while carrying a back-pack".

Now, on Monday we witnessed the highlight song of the weekend...Booker T. Jones playing Green Onions with the Drive-By Trackers. It was just sensational, the guy on the guitar (I think the guy's name is, John Neff) was giving the song an almost 'pink floydish' (Dave Gilmour) sound. Great.

Stood out in the rain at the signing tent....to get Booker T's signature on a copy of their album 'Potato Hole'. Booker T. was a quite spoken, congenial sort of follow...looked a little like Sidney Poitier.

Bluesfest Voting:

Xavier Rudd 8

Michael Franti & Spearhead 9.5

Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson 9

AYO 8

Angeligue Kidjo 9

Seasick Steve 9

Watermelon Slim & the Workers 8

Pugsley Buzzard 8

The Gin Club 8

Mic Conway's National Junk Bank 9

Stiff Gins 8

Dan Auerbach 9.5

Blue King Brown 8

CW Stoneking 9.5

James Hunter 8

Sonny Landreth 8.5 (didn't see whole show, could have been higher)

Rodney Crowell 8

Hot Club of Cowtown 8.5

Hacienda 8

Hat Fitz 9

Marshall & Fro 8

Kush Cabaret 8.5

Saltwater Band 8

Tinariwen 10

Tom Freund 8.5

Alabama 3. 7

Lucinda Williams 10

Eric Bibb 9 (didn't see whole show, could have been higher)

Terrance Simien 9.5

Ash Grunwald 8.5

Jeff Lang 9

Drive-By Truckers 9.5

Blues Traveler 9.5

The Bamboos 9

Ruthie Foster 8.5

Luka Bloom 9

Easy Star All-Stars 8

Special Beat 7

Booker T. Jones & Drive By Truckers 10

REPAST - a short story

REPAST

Marie Henrietta De Montfort was a witch. Had been for sixty five of her eighty years. In the nonchalance of youth she had kissed the devil's bum, made the pact and enjoyed certain favours which still danced in her memory when she was disposed to recall them. Her powers which had supported her in the royal courts of Europe remained but the pursed lipped puritans had now burned and hammered their joyless doctrines onto the door of destiny. Thus she fled the faggots of disclosure and disgrace lit by the whores of righteousness, le mob amok.

A nifty little sloop sailed by a spellbound captain deposited her on Erin's plump green shores after a night of being tossed like a turnip on the Irish Sea. The Dutch captain had duly demanded his tithe and with his hand between the thighs of an eighteen year old beauty found his lips were sucking those of an eighty year old wobbegong whose tongue was slurping down his throat. In fact was reaching to his entrails and melting his medallions. It is said that his scream was heard in Scotland.

Marie Henrietta De Montfort was in great spirits after that and skipped off down a country lane bordered by a rocky wall one side and a hedge on the other. She was a sprightly old thing and glad to be alive in an Irish morning and was whistling away to herself. But she wasn't much of a whistler and disturbed a cow in the field who droned a long brown complaint to her fellow beasts, “will you get a load of the tuneless old trollop, she could earn a living as a scarecrow wha?” Although true it was imprudent. Marie was able to interpret the Gaelic, and cracked the little finger on her left hand. The cow who was Philomena O'Donahue shot over to Sligo like a methane rocket. Folks who spotted it crossed themselves , exclaimed ''Holy Cow'', and said it was a sign to be sure, an important portent.

Marie Henrietta De Montfort jumped up, clicked her heels with a flash of blue, started another tune and skipped onward. Along the way she exploded a pig who had dared to give her a wolf whistle. Öw dare you” she said, “you cheeky Irish pig. Je suis une grand dame. Paysan.”

A cart pulled by a donkey came hurtling down the lane heaving dust behind. Marie jumped aside, cracked her finger and a cartwheel fell off, toppled the donkey and expelled the occupant. Jumbo McManus had been loaded onto the tray due to a chronic indisposition which afflicted him mercilessly at O'Halloran's pub each night. He had been sleeping his way to his darlin wife, Thin Annie. Jumbo was uninjured but understandably peeved.

Hey you, Baggins, did you see what happened?

Je suis Marie Henrietta De Montfort of French aristocracy. You Monsieur are a drunken paysan, not fit for pig swill. I dropped the wheel from your cart.

Yeah an I'm Oliver fuckin Cromwell, Your Great Pomposity. If you don't be civil I'll kick your arse.

Now, a strange thing happened as Marie's hands came together, for the craik.... There was a rustle in the hedgerow and out popped a wee woman wearing rustic garments.

Ah you must excuse Jumbo my ladyship. His heart's in the right place but the tongues inclined to wander. Welcome to our shores. 'Tis rare we have a grand lady such as yourself come a visiting. The wee woman waved Jumbo away.

Will you be stayin long at all?

At all? At all? Will I be staying long? I will stay as long as it pleases me to stay. So far I 'ave suffered only displeasure. The natives coarse, the animals rude. A lack of breeding afflicts this country.

Well now we'll see if we can improve matters. We have a wee game we play with new arrivals, sort of getting to know you, it's a guessing game.

Marie Henrietta De Montfort does not play guessing games in the countryside with ugly old peasants.

But we're two old women together you and me eh, no-one around, middle of nowhere, let's amuse ourselves. It's easy. You see that pond over there, off the stream. How many trout is in it?

An exasperated Marie cracked her finger and a bolt of blue flashed and fifteen stunned trout floated to the surface.

Fifteen I believe.

By jingoes you're a dab hand at this game missus, sorry..... your excellency. Dem trout look splendid so they do. I've a hunger on me t'would fill a horse trough.

Mmmm, je suis faim aussie. And Marie cracked her finger again and a skillet landed on the bank of the pond, followed by slabs of butter, two heads of garlic, all peeled, sprigs of dill, parsley, six lemons and a salt and pepper shaker. In a moment a fire was crackling and the trout were sizzling, and the two old dears, seemingly ravenous, devoured the lot in two hours. A nearby apricot tree, replete with plump ripe fruit provided excellent desert.

There they lay, sated on the soft grass by the side of the stream, stripped of their garments. The sun played its warm golden fingers on their full white bellies. And a fine tune it was with the stream picking up the rhythm and the breeze singing through the trees. Perfectment!

The wee Irish woman remarked to herself, Rosheen, that was best meal I had in me life bar none.

Marie agreed. Tres magnifique! Eh bien.......Rosheen, you know what they grant a condemned prisoner?

I do, sure I do. What's that?

The best final meal.......

I'm with you, sure I am.

Mon ami, a witch requires much sustenance and I confess I am peckish again. One of my favourite dishes is slow roasted mature peasant woman.... stuffed with trout...and apricot.

And with that she cracked her finger.

But.... nothing happened.

Rosheen gazed at her with still eyes.

And you remember our pact, Jacqueline Bidet, when you were fifteen.

Story Copyright Barry McGloin 2009