Rhyl Folk Club

Sorry about the absence of your favourite weekly journal for the last month, blame it on the wife. We came over this week early to avoid the A55 Bank Holiday chaos that is the A55. There were a few absentees who had sent notes; Alan, Barry and John W were all in Finland this week, competing in the World Air Guitar championships (Google it if you don’t believe me). Tony Blair was among the favourites.

Alun was Fred’s choice of opener, with the first of the Ralph McTell songs to feature this evening. Contained some sexual content. Mike was once again irritatingly brilliant, especially as I had to follow him.

Another McTell from me and more sexual content courtesy of Joyce (the librarian). I was asked for sex this week! Ok it was on an insurance form, but at least I was asked.

Geoff had not one but two chorus songs, one Scots, one Irish. Didn’t do the accents though.

Props have always been popular with Terence. He had a fiddle there tonight and played a (very) few notes to accompany his song. NB. it’s probably not possible to stab yourself through the heart with a very long sword unless you have arms like Mr Tickle.

The 3rd McTell came from Lesley (S) about an Irish neighbour from childhood, “Mr Connaughton”. First time out. Song was fine but the bloke on the guitar screwed up a bit despite there only being 4 chords.

It’s been a while since Kevin was in our midst (unless I missed him in my absence). Always a popular turn; “Chisel Hill” is a Chris Rea song, introduced to the club by the much missed John Wright.

Brian sang of The Lowlands of Holland. Not many mountains there to sing about I suppose. The chorus of the second song had little chance of being remembered by an audience of Mensa members let alone a room full of Rhyl pensioners.

The Mighty Powells rounded off the first half, seeking out the help of an accordian player for “Athenry” – desperate times indeed.

Despite what Fred said, there IS a club next week (29th), but we have the enforced shutdown for September 5th.

Something to do this week in your spare time. Let’s pretend that the Orange one from the USA isn’t the biggest liar and most obnoxious stupid person in the world, Just pretend.

Today’s message – “Don’t rely on Sat. Nav” and don’t underestimate the traffic on the A55 on a sunny Friday. As some found to their cost.

Our guests tonight were “Full House”. The burning question was “Why haven’t we booked ’em before?”

With my 18mm lens I could just squeeze the 5 of them in a photo.

Tucked away over on the other side. Ian simply got about the business with his melodeon and then flute.

The average rock band usually has a cool looking bloke at the back, standing still and plucking a bass, while the lead guitarist struts about up front getting all the plaudits. The bass provides the backbone, exemplified by Chris Lee (maybe 10 watts too many last night). Not to mention the mandolin!

Clare “Fluff” Smith. What can I say. I’d have gladly paid the fiver just to hear her play.

Over the years, we’ve had lots of “big name” guests who couldn’t come close to giving us such a good night’s entertainment. I know what you’re thinking – this is not the John Shepherd we know, that one is generally unpleasant and seldom has a good word to say about anyone. Credit where it’s due – it was a bloody good night. Singers’ night next week (ie back to the usual crap).

Oh, what a thankless task is that of the MC. Even with the absence of the Daltons (Jeff Bezos’ wedding) and the Warbies (headlining Glastonbury), Fred still faced a mountainous list. We had a flat to the wall layout this evening as a dummy run for 2 weeks time when we have guests “Full House” from Chester (there’s a lot of ’em to fit in).

Again, can’t mention everyone, but here’s a brief recap.

Geoff D had taken Warbie’s place (ie. a Donovan song). Sam was accompanied by a very attractive blonde (12 string).

Malcolm hasn’t played for us for years, but treated us to a fine set last night, along with some electronic wizardry.

Frost’s “The road not taken” was part of Dafydd’s offerings tonight. One of my favourites. When you make a decision to choose a path along life’s travels, you will never know how the other would have worked out. Look it up, it’s worth a read now and then.

There were singalong songs from Mike and tunes from Vanda. Don’t forget the charity ceilidh (see last week’s blog).

Songs from both me and from Lesley tonight, before Alun, who won the prize for “Best Ironed Shirt”. I bet Wendy did it. What happened to “Robin Starch”?

Week off next week as it’s 1st Friday, Bring a bit more dosh for the 11th (£5) as it’s guest night and they don’t do it for nowt. Summer is still available for the next few days, but I bet you’ve noticed that the nights are drawing in.

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.