Rhyl Folk Club

Alan Oddsox was exuding virus fron every pore of his body, Warbies were down Kernow for the Solstice Hippy stuff, and anyone who lived the far side of the Conwy tunnel was completely stuffed. Otherwise a fairly regular singers’ night,

Alun had finally taken “Gordon” (he’s flash) from off the hall wall and given him an evening out. Sadly no effort made to buff him up.

Sailing along the coast of High Barbary was Barry No-Waistcoat-Tonight’s song. Is there a Low Barbary? Do they have apes there?

Fellow husbands – if your wife does something badly, simply explain how your mother used to do it. She will appreciate your advice and strive to do it as she did. Follow me for more marital advice.

Nobody believed that Fred had any mates, so we were dubious when he said a pal was coming to do some monologues. But there was Ray! Ray did quite well till the concrete hardened crust of a stale pork pie hit him in the eye and he bit the dust (probably Glenys or Barbara responsible). Excellent!

Lesley took a photo of me so I’ll include it, if only to show I have alternative garb to check shirts.

If you are free on Sunday July 13th, why not pop along to The Kinmel Hotel, Abergele (by the roundabout), 2.30 for 3.00 for a ceilidh with the Mooncoin Ceilidh Band; Emerald will be the caller and she assures me that even numpties like the RFC crowd will be able to follow her directions. Phone Vanda on 07867 975126 for tickets or donations. Proceeds to Alzheimer’s Society. Go on, give it a go.

Singers’ night next week at Ffordd Las.

Friday the 13th. Some people had left “stuff” they needed at home. Alun had come without his picks. Fred had come without his brain. Along with the missus, he got us off to a jolly start, but then it went a bit tits up, somehow confusing me with some other bloke.

After several years absence it was good to see Steve Jones and Chris Ruane in the audience. Steve has a few thousand miles to travel, but no excuse for you Chris.

Alan Oddsox sang a lovely Janis Ian song for us. We all knew the chorus for “Banker” (not rhyming slang) with Barry, who also read some erotica (to old men) about a circus in Abergele, even repeating the bit about the Ringmistress.

Cyril Tawney was featuring heavily in Mike’s repertoire tonight. After receiving a request for “The Oggie Man”, he put his phone with the words up on the music stand ie. pretending to be a young person.

Geoff Peters appeared completely naked (ie. without a music stand), and much the better for that. Great set.

Terence was extolling the virtues of Bradford. He’s obviously never been.

It’s not often we get any Billy Shakespeare at the club, but Dafydd did the honours tonight – “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?…….” . What! Strong winds and pissing it down with rain!

60s classics from John W, with Cat Stevens and, you guessed it, Donovan.

Alun, now with his picks, thrashed out some Mark Knopfler. Sadly not “Sultans of Swing”, but pretty good all the same.

Carole finished off the line-up, with her entertaining verse.John will never be able to forget spilling (and therefore wasting) a full glass of red by washing down his laptop. Twice.

Fred, who now had had his brain delivered by courier, got round everyone in the last 40 minutes. Notably Geoff reformed the Ronettes, and there was a rare appearance of “John and the Warbettes”. I suppose you had to be there.

Singers night next week.

The Powells had driven straight from Manchester airport to be with us after their dirty fortnight in Bulgaria. Bank holiday weekend, only took 6 hours on the A55. At least we got a (half) decent MC.

We also had the not-the-Blaydon Races, Brian and Sue, down from the North East.

After I’d kicked off, with much needed help from Lesley, Mike sang “Geordie”, nothing to do with Newcastle , perhaps as well as the Co. Durham duo get violent, despite their placid appearance, if you call ’em “Geordies”.

Barry and Emerald were back from their Wainwright inspired fellrunning trip to the Lakes. Poems and, later, a tune.

More spoken word next, first with John Cooper Clark from Terence then yet another dynamic supergroup as Dafydd gained an accompanist to form “Sam ‘n Dave” and rock out some Leonard Cohen.

Rachel! Always a treat. My Brief says I’m not to comment further.

At no expense whatsoever, Rhyl Folk Club then brought you a half hour from B & S. Wide range of material delivered in their gentle style. Again, toooo much reverb. The seismometer at Pontybodkin registered 2.4 on the Richter scale, and several members of the audience had their dentures shaken out by the undulations. Always a pleasure to have them stay with us and have them at the club; unfailingly a popular turn.

After the break, we had a return visit from “Cecryn” (?). On day release from the Home For the Terminally Bewildered, we had a lively set of 4, lots of chorus. Almost very good!

It’s a singers’ night next week (I won’t be there so even more reason to come), then on the 6th June it’s 1st Friday , no room, so no club, then back again on the 13th. Enjoy your weekend.

Geoff had 2 brand new songs, no cribsheet, one in Welsh. Excellent! He missed the second half of the night as he appeared to be covering for a mate who works for Green Flag (other recovery services are available) and had to go to a breakdown on the Wirral.

Mike was up next, with a tale of the times when we exported our unwanted to Virginia.

Sam had dug out a Yardbirds B side song from 60 years ago.

Anna had her lyre harp tonight; the “bandage” wasn’t a poorly hand, merely a safety device.

Earlier in the evening John W’s chair had catastrophically collapsed, sending our chum crashing to the ground. Suffering concussion, Carole propped him up on a chair and did her ventriloquist act. Possibly an improvement?

After Filibuster introductions, Alun eventually knocked out his songs, which took us to the break. Geoff, the ticket you gave Mike won; get your bottle of Glenallachie 15 yr old off him next week.

The second half was no less eventful, with Barbara choking on a Werther’s Original. Family flowers only and a do at the Miners’ Welfare after the Crem.

Despite the MC we almost finished on time. John shot past me doing about 75 mph on the way home so he must have been ok. Next week have an extended spot from the not-so-dynamic duo from Co. Durham; otherwise it’s a singers’ night so bring your songs, poems, pets, friends, your granny’s ashes (concession) or whatever.

A sunny weekend found us with several regulars on holiday, taking advantage of pensioner friendly rates. This was a shame as they missed a treat as we had Andy Connally as our guest from over the Mersey.

I’m not going through all the floor spots, but I must mention Mike, who’s set of “Last of the Widows” and “Aragon Mill” were simply outstanding.

We’ve seen Andy several times with his band “Wet The Tea”, but it was a different experience hearing him solo.

The best thing we have done for a long while at the club was ditching the PA. Andy’s songs are very personal, and the intimate atmosphere without microphones etc enhanced the sentiments immeasurably.

Andy played flute, whistle and mandola (? -I’m not big on 8 string stuff). Surely a sign of a misspent youth; he’d be inside practising on instruments when he should have been outside with his mates getting pissed on cheap cider, nicking cars and joyriding.

If you missed him, you get a second chance as he’s at Warbie’s on June 10th. He finished the night with “Every step to Clare Island”. When I got up this morning and checked the news to see if Trump was dead yet, the song was still rolling round my brain. I bet I’ve just implanted it in yours now – it’ll be with you all day.

Thanks to Andy for such a memorable evening – I’m sure we’ll be seeing him again.

Singers’ night next week, 7.30. The week after (23rd), we have Brian and Sue Race down from Co. Durham who will be doing about half an hour for us.

We saw him, we heard him, we touched the hem of his garment and were healed. It was our chum Terry Hiscock back again.

It’s pretty obvious why we’ve booked him 3 years in a row since our first meeting on Zoom in lockdown. Singing his beautifully crafted songs with intricate but sympathetic guitar accompaniment (take note Alun, not too many notes!) and charming us with his stories . The gags need a bit more work Terry, I’ll e mail you a few.

What’s this John! I hear you cry – being nice, not your style. Don’t worry, he gets plenty of stick off me at other times.

Songs about pretty much everything you could think of, from being almost killed in the London tube bombing to songs about musicians, including Robert Johnson, the blues singer who allegedly sold his soul to the devil. Which brings me to……..

The blues part 6 (final chapter). Miscellany.

Blues beverages include whisk(e)y, bourbon, dirty water, warm flat beer and nasty coffee. Not Earl Grey or green tea, Perrier, Moet & Chandon or Pinot Grigio.

Good Blues deaths can include being shot or stabbed by the woman you cheated on, drug overdose ( especially in a grubby motel room) or the electric chair. Death while skiing or undergoing cosmetic surgery don’t feature here. If you any form of internet access, you cannot truly sing the blues.

Looking back over my past 30 years at the club, I would put Terry in my top 6 “turns”, alongside Dave Burland, the (original) John Wright Band, Jez Lowe, Kimber’s Men and, though I don’t like to admit it, Keith Price.

A memorable night, finishing off with “Where are you now, Sweet Marie”. A big thanks to Terry for travelling to Rhyl to play for us again. I can’t upload video on to this site but I’ll put a link to a YouTube clip on the end.

Andrew forgot to mention that next week is first Friday of the month so THERE IS NO CLUB ON THE 2ND AUG.

As many of you know, someone at the club has been going out of their way to piss me off, so I’m taking a couple of months away, hopefully see you mid September. Here’s Terry.

Andrew was meant to be back this week, but while most seemed to be struggling to keep cool, he was at home shivering. Probably malaria. Hope you’re on the mend today.

A couple of Davy Steele songs tonight, one from me and one from Mike.

Sam sang “The road to hell”; not the M25 as many think, but the A55 on a Friday in summer. Two in Cymraeg from Rhodri along with another misguided attempt to slag off the English; this time it was their rugby supporters. The club can do without this, thank you.

The Warbies came a few minutes late to avoid my slot. Predictably good sets from the pair, following their sell out tour of Kernow and Ynys Mon. Full marks to thier son Keith for his teapot poem.

Nice to see Rick back, and with a 12 stringer. He had a song called “Stella Blue”, about a guitar much favoured by blues players.

Which brings me to :-

The Blues (part 5)

You can believably sing the blues if you are old and dishevelled, blind, on the run from the police or a mean woman or you shot a man down South. The more of these the better.

You are not convincing if you have all your own teeth, wear a suit and tie (unless that’s all you own), have ISAs and a pension fund or the man you shot down South survived. Colour is irrelevant; Vaughan Gething couldn’t sing the blues, Mike Tyson could.

Annette! How we’ve missed your soft Irish tones. Don’t leave it so long before you visit us again. Last turn of the night was Alun; “Lisa Lan” – you didn’t need to understand the words to know this was a sad, sad song.

Before “South Australia” finale, Alun gave us a sneak preview of what’s to come next week, with Terry Hiscock’s song “Where are you now, sweet Marie”. He made a cracking good job of it – El Tel would have been proud. But you can see and hear the man himself next week, 7.30, only £5 on the door. We’ve booked Terry 3 years consecutively now, and for good reason (no, not that he comes at “mates rates”), simply too good to miss.

I must apologise for arriving a bit late with tonight’s guest, but the A55 was at a standstill for miles. That’s what Terry told me to say; in reality it takes him a long time to put on the slap over the wrinkles these days.

Yes it was Terry Hiscock back again by overwhelming demand.

Lots of chums turned up, not least Brian and Sue from Durham. We didn’t know they were coming down for the night so it was a delight to see their liitle smiley faces.

Terry? Does what it says on the tin. Loads of beautifully crafted songs, perfectly delivered by an old pro.

Not easy for one bloke with a guitar to keep everyone spellbound for the night, but he always manages it; bit of gob iron, bit on the electric Gibson with sliiiide and a few subtle effects from his electric box of tricks. Even got everyone singing along to Buddy Holly’s “Everyday” (don’t remember it personally – before my time).

Only one disappointment – where was “Where are you now, Sweet Marie”. Maybe next time. I’m sure there will be a next time.

That’s more like it! Lots of bums on seats, lots of noise but lots of barracking and abuse for the poor, mild mannered soul doing his best to MC. You lot don’t deserve me. The blog is a bit late today, as Brian and Sue have been down from Co. Durham this week and I’ve been trying to tidy up their room after they left this morning.

I opened with a couple of Scots songs then Lesley played “Mrs. Shepherd’s Fancy”, written by ARJ.

Everyone had chorus songs tonight from the start. Mike had a couple including “Leaving on a jet plane. Fred and Lesley P delved into fox hunting. Rhyl Folk Club has no official stance on blood sports, but we would certainly not be averse to seeing Jacob Rees Mogg torn apart by a pack of Rottweilers.

Alan was still shamelessly plugging his new CD and Adrian sang of a transvestite aboard ship, a song which contained the only death of the night. Dafydd basically got the audience to sing the song for him.

It’s always a treat to have Kevin in our midst, especially when he knocks out a Saw Doctors’ tune. Tonight he had chosen a shirt to match his guitar strap – attention to detail rarely seen these days.

In a world seemingly full of bigotry and hate, the Warbies are a liitle splash of love and affection to brighten our lives. John sang a song he had written for Carole as he said it was 56 years since they went on their first date. Sorry John, no cigar, when Carole revealed it was actually 54 years. Similarly Carole had a poem for John and another about the art work on John’s guitar case (done for him by Neil Martin).

Alun had some Dylan for us -“to make you feel my love”. A bit of gob iron would have been nice with it.

Despite this wealth of goodies, the highlight of the night was always going to be our chums from up North.

How fortuitous that the request pulled out of the box last week was for them to sing “The Bergen”, so we managed to squeeze 4 out of them altogether. A rotund Welsh gentleman sprinted on to the stage to join them in Dougie MacLean’s “Down too deep”.

We’ve had some great fun with them while they’ve been down this week, including a trip to Liverpool, where we taught them a bit of Scouse (we ate chechen in a perple shert).

The finale was “Peggy Gordon” In G. Only Alun could reach it. In D next time please!

Most of you know that Sue has had a rough time these past few months, and they really appreciated everyone’s concern and tried to talk to everyone during the course of the night, but Sue sends apologies for missing the Stokies. The club presented her with a bunch of flowers and hope things will get sorted out.

They’ll be back again, just as soon as I’ve repaired their trashed room.

We’re all back next week.

With a capacity crowd and a long list of singers, Andrew rolled up the sleeves of his K.F.C. shirt (other take-aways are available) and got off to an early start. If you want to see everyone who sang, look at the collage at the bottom, the list is too long to mention everyone in the blog.

It was a delight to see and hear some of the “old-timers” who had made the effort to be at the club on our 50th anniversary. Darryl got “premature clap” when, merely pausing in his song to take a swig from his pint of Chilean merlot, some of the audience thought (wished?) he’d finished and put their hands together. I owe a great personal debt to Darryl for his encouragement when I first started at the club over 25 years ago. If you think I’m crap now, you should have heard me then!

Hadyn Smith, looking very dapper, first sang at the club in 1966, and despite having to be somewhere else on the night managed to turn up to give a moving version of “The Fish Finger Blues”.

I’m not sure how Brian got through “All the little chickens”, with the wall of sound of farmyard animals coming back at him. Brian looks almost as young as ever (due to the picture in his attic), but alas, Jeff seems to have now stopped exfoliating and using his moisturiser and is showing 6 of the 7 signs of ageing; the only one he fails to demonstrate is rigor mortis. Jeff has been doing much of the graft for the club for years and doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. That unfortunately doesn’t stop me taking the piss.

Thanks to all the ladies who provided the food and to everyone who brought stuff for the raffle. Except Mike Hawkins. Those who read last weeks summary may remember he returned a perfectly good bottle of booze which he then won for a second time. Sure enough it returned again this week. Hopefully it has now gone to a good home where it will be treated with more care and respect.

It was fitting that young Mathew finished off the evening, after hearing the people who had carried the club through it’s first 50 years. Billy Connolly once likened life to a bus journey, where people keep getting off, sometimes before their stop. Over the years we’ve lost a few; Mike Hand, Kristen, Lindsay and of course, Ted. Due to the demographics of the club, it’s inevitable that more of us will be standing up and ringing the bell and we seem unable to attract a younger element to come and have a laugh on a Friday night, with the predictable end result of Mathew singing to an empty room (or a row of urns). We hope Mathew got his parents back to the home safely.

Guest night next week – Peter and Barbara Snape.