Tomorrow We'll Be Sober!

'What's The Croft like as a venue, then?' I asked my daughter.

She wrinkled her nose. 'OK, I s'pose. You do stick to the floor a bit, though'

Armed with this information, my 89 year old father and 83 year old mother decided not to attend the Blackbeard's Tea Party gig, even though they love watching their grandson, djembe-playing Dave Boston, and granddaughter-in-waiting, Laura Barber, play.  I had no such qualms. I've been sticking to various floors, at gigs and domestically, since the late 70s.  So accompanied by most of my offspring, I swanked in courtesy of the guest list just in time for the opening song.   

Blackbeard's Tea Party has undergone a fairly major personnel change of late, with the departure of singer and melodeon player, Paul Young.  I was a bit apprehensive when I heard the news, as I thought Paul's voice very distinctive and really well suited to the band's material, though his stage persona was pretty dour.  His replacement,  the singer and melodeon player Stuart Giddens, couldn't be more different, scoring about 8.2 on the campometer.  I particularly enjoyed the subtle change to the lyrics in 'I can hew', and once he's memorised the order of the verses in 'The Landlord', he'll be fine.  

 Elsewhere, Blackbeard, that local Bristol boy made good, was well served by his band's excellent musicianship.  I have a bit of a penchant for fiddle-playing, and Laura is superbly talented.  For energy and passion, I can only really compare her to that maestro, Seth Lakeman. 


Support was provided by local rappers, Silver Flame - that's rappers not rappers - who also performed with the band in Sidmouth, back in the summer.  By the end of the evening the entire audience in the packed back room was dancing, and the band received a well-deserved ovation.

  

Another perk of being Auntie to the band is that you get to put most of them up afterwards.  They're far too nice to demand a rider, but the beer went down well (£17.99 for one box in Sainsbury's; £20 for two. What's that all about, then?)  Following a slap-up breakfast next morning, my parents popped around for a quick visit and stuck to my kitchen floor, so they didn't miss out either.  

I think I'm right in saying that with the exception of their two appearances at Sidmouth in August, this was the first time Blackbeard's Tea Party had performed in the West Country, and that seems a shame as surely it's here they would be best appreciated.  Hopefully they'll get booked for more festivals and carnivals in these parts over the coming months. In the meantime they have an excellent new CD out, called Tomorrow We'll Be Sober, which will be just the job for all those approaching Christmas and New Year parties.  

Blackbeard's Tea Party in Sidmouth, 2011

John Betjeman loved Sidmouth for its 'timeless charm'.  I love it for its annual folk festival, and last Thursday we ventured over the River Exe to see Blackbeard's Tea Party perform at the Anchor.  

It was the first time in some years that the town and surrounding cliffs weren't dressed in shades of grey for my visit.  I love Sidmouth when it's all misty and mysterious, but I have to say, the sunlit view along the coast to Beer Head was just stunning.

The moment we walked into the town centre, I heard the opening bars of a familiar piece of music, and as we rounded the corner, there were Blackbeard's Tea Party busking on the pavement.  My nephew, David, is in the centre on the djembe, and his girlfriend, Laura, is playing the fiddle.  Before the first song had finished, people were dancing in the streets (me included).  

We had a few hours to idle away before the gig proper, so we wandered through the streets and up to the front. There were statues and cats to fraternise with ... 




... and hat stalls to patronise ...  


...plus all the other sights and delights of folk week in Sidmouth.  

The gig when it happened was brilliant fun - so many people of all ages dancing, including a team of female rapper sword dancers with a very sexy, top-hatted Tommy - and I discovered that I can whoooo! after all.  Apart from the member of the folk police who remarked 'Well, that's a social faux pas for a start!' when David walked on stage with his djembe and who didn't stay to hear the band play, I would defy anyone to leave without a smile on their face.




In the end, they ran out of CDs to sell, and had a great festival (apart from Paul having a head-on collision with a drunk driver six miles out of Sidmouth, but that hasn't happened yet in this account, and anyway, he was uninjured, though the car was a write-off). It would be really good to see them somewhere  more official next year, though. The Ham Marquee would do.

There was just time on the way back to the car for a last bit of magic. Writing in fire.  Poetry.