So long, farewell...

The time has come to put this blog to bed.

I can hear the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth all over the globe as my faithful fans (all two of you) lament its passing. It's been fun, but sadly it has rather slipped down my list of priorities recently and rather than dabble in it half-heatedly, I would rather bring the curtain down here and now. I won't delete it, so it will sit here encased in virtual aspic just in case anyone finds the meanderings of Weekender during 2011/12 of any interest whatsoever in the future...

'Frome With A View' started off as a challenge from a work colleague whose own blog has proved to be something of a success  (check it out at http://findyourdreamjob.wordpress.com/). And it's been most instructive to dip my toes into the weird and wonderful world of blogging.  By far the most gratifying aspect of the exercise has been when the occasional mini-debate about Life In Frome has taken off. So many, many thanks to you, if you have contributed.

But all good things etc, so I leave you with this. Some recent praise for Frome from TV presenter Dan Cruickshank. I think he sums up the place pretty well (though there aren't any Georgian mansions in Stony Street (neither is there an "e" in Stony); Gentle St has the mansions yes, but not Stony...):

http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2012/aug/17/dan-cruikshank-best-british-historic-towns?INTCMP=SRCH

So, 'til we meet again - in the virtual or the real world.

All best wishes,

Weekender.

PS Without realising it when I made the decision to stop, this turns out to be my 50th post. So that makes a rather neat ending, don't you think?

Boxing clever-clever?

To the delightful Courts Garden in Holt, near Bradford-On-Avon. A charming, mostly early 20th Century creation with traditional beds of colour, ponds (one a former dye pool revealing is origins as a textile mill), an arboretum and the antidote to all those hideous peacocks - topiary in organic shapes, clearly sculpted, but oh-so-natural.

Bird brained?

The garden is also home this summer to "Urban Arboretum", an art installation. Created by Paul Tecklenberg and Mikey Georgeson, it comprises 20 bird boxes attached to trees. But instead of hosting wrens or tits, the receptacles contain photographs which blend images of the garden with landmarks of London. One peers into the hole where a bird might enter to view the photo - and peer is the operative word. Fixed to the trees which are now in full leaf, most are in deep shadow and the images are very difficult to make out. Only at the end of the tour did we find an information board admitting that this was a problem and offering the loan of a torch! Setting this "school of the bleedin' obvious" issue aside, what is the point of the exercise? I could see little. Mrs W enjoyed the novelty of it all, treating the trail as something of a treasure hunt. But what is the work trying to say exactly? That's there's a little garden to be found hidden in every cityscape - and/or vice-versa? And why London? Images of the less salubrious parts of Trowbridge or Westbury or Swindon would have made more sense. I applaud the National Trust for placing contemporary art in historic settings  - Antony Gormley's "Field" currently at Barrington Court, near Yeovil, works brilliantly -  but Tecklenberg and Georgeson's efforts rather smack of the Imperial new wardrobe.

A Courts resident makes clear his feelings about 'Urban Arboretum' 

Drink Up Thee Cider

In our continuing efforts to immerse ourselves in the county’s culture, we sallied forth westwards, Alan Stone’s “Somerset Cider Handbook” in hand. Like some of the product itself, the image of cider has been a bit rough over the years. A yokel dozing in a hayrick, half-emptied flagon of “scrumpy” by his side… that sort of thing. But I’m delighted to say that the West Country’s answer to wine is undergoing something of a renaissance and, in addition to the Big Boys churning the stuff out by the tankerful, there are a number of small-scale makers akin to the micro-breweries of the beer business.

So much better than its name suggests...

This revival hasn’t necessarily led to universally available top quality stuff – there is still cider out there that is so sweet it will rot your teeth and some so acidic it will rip the enamel off any teeth you may have left… But thanks to Lilley’s Cider Barn in Frome I’ve been sampling a variety of the local product and have found one that really hits the spot. Sadly it has a ridiculous name, but you can’t judge a book by its cover, so Janet’s Jungle Juice from West Croft Farm near Highbridge gets my vote. It's fruity and dry, refreshing and satisfying –  that seems to me to be the perfect combination.

So we went to meet John Harris, the producer of aforementioned Juice, and taste some at source. John is a quiet, friendly man who led us into his barn and gave us tasters of both the latest JJJ and his West Croft Dry (also recommended). He told us that (unlike some producers) he adds no sweeteners to his cider, nor does he blend them after pressing – the blending is all done in the selection of the apples. He also, encouragingly, is cutting down on the use of sulphites, the whiff of which is often the first olfactory encounter one has with a cider.

We shall definitely return to John’s farm at the bottom of Brent Knoll, but we will not rush back to Rich’s. I’d enjoyed a glass of their output at The Cornerhouse in Frome, so thought it was also worth a visit as it’s not too far from West Croft. But it’s a million miles away in terms of “the experience”. This is the cider farm as coach party destination: large car park, restaurant and a shop full of touristy knick-knacks. No tastings were on offer and the single member of staff we encountered was not particularly helpful – despite their ciders being split into “Scrumpy” (ie on draught, still and, assumedly, unpasteurised) and “Farmhouse” (pre-bottled, slightly sparkling and pasteurised), the assistant labelled them the same. Their dry scrumpy is pleasant enough, but not a patch on what John Harris is managing to produce on what I am sure is a fraction of Rich’s turnover. When it comes to cider making, small would appear to be beautiful.

PS It's a pleasure to be able to report that Frome With A View has just played host to its 1000th viewer. Now, apart from the occasional poster (whose comments are always much appreciated) I do, of course, have absolutely no idea who all these people are. I'm sure most of them have only ended up on this page because "Frome" is Lithuanian for "Porn" or some such. But, whoever and wherever you are, you are very, very welcome. Do leave a comment. If only to say how disappointed you are by the absence of naked women (or men)...

Super Markets v Supermarkets

Today saw the second so-called Frome Super Market - an experiment designed to turn the monthly Summer Flea/Artisan market into a "destination event". In addition to the usual Sunday suspects, there were familiar faces from the Wednesday/Saturday general markets plus many newcomers. The centre of town was closed to traffic and stalls stretched from the Market Yard car park through the Westway Centre into the Market Place and up Catherine Hill. The result was an attractive mix of the useful (food, drink, kitchenware, tools etc) and the decorative (jewellery, ceramics and that must-have in every trendy Frome home, dreamcatchers). The place was heaving - the open-air cafe almost managed to make the usually soulless Westway continentally chic and the foody section - coffees, teas, cheeses, hot meals etc - in Scott Road was a neat idea.

Catherine Hill Crammed

However, as the whole enterprise is clearly the antidote to Asda and Sainsbury's, it does seem slightly odd to ape them and adopt the title Super Market. It will only take a small typo and the play on words will be completely  lost. But as a couple more shops close on Catherine Hill (Crow -  a warren of antiques and second hand stuff - will be particularly missed), anything that boosts the retail health of Frome is good news. And as someone who had to drive all round the houses to get to Shepton in the afternoon, any inconvenience caused by the road closures is clearly outweighed by the wider economic advantages. Long may the Super, er, Mega, er, Big Market flourish.

It's good to talk?

Am breaking my own house rules today by writing about an event away from Frome, but the issue is the same whether the subject is the River of Music or Nunney Rocks...

In the capital for the aforementioned 'River' - an ambitious 'London 2012' world music festival taking place at various outdoor venues this weekend along the Thames, from Battersea in the West to Greenwich in the East. My gripe is not restricted to this event, but applies to all such concerts. What is it that makes certain people behave in the open-air the same as if they were sitting in front of the telly at home? That is, to chatter incessantly throughout the performance. Now, no-one expects church-like silence at a gig 'en plein air', but why bother to make the effort to come along if all you want to do is natter to your neighbours? It's disrespectful to both the performers and your fellow audience members who might, just might, want to listen to the music they've paid to hear.

Kayhan Kahlor - stoic in the face of incessant nattering

Now, if it's Bruce Springsteen banging out his rock 'n' roll at x hundred decibels (before the plugs were pulled, of course), that's one thing. But these particular chatterboxes yadder-yaddered their way through half an hour of exquisite Persian traditional music in Battersea Park yesterday afternoon. Maybe they were simply taking their cue from the incessant messaging we also had to endure throughout the day from the event's sponsor. And that was?  BT.

There are fairies at the bottom of the garden...

A quick round-up of our final few events...

Ian McMillan and Luke Carver Goss at Rook Lane: the boy peaked too soon. Less poetry reading with music than stand-up-meets-primary school, the first half-hour was utterly, utterly hilarious. Based mainly on signs McMillan had er, "acquired" from various venues around the country, he spun a web of side-splitting comedy around just a handful of sheets of paper. But after this uproarious start, there was nowhere else for him to go. There was surprisingly little poetry and the so-called interactive finale (where the audience contributed to the composition of an instant verse) looked to have been lifted from one of the poet's school visits rather than something designed for a more grown-up audience. McMillan is a great entertainer, but he badly needs a director.

Also, a quick thought for promoters putting on speech events at Rook Lane - when Ian left the mic to wander the stage or the auditorium (as he did frequently), he could not be heard from under the balcony. Something to do with the building's unique interior/acoustics. A lapel/radio mic would have solved this problem.

The North Sea Radio Orchestra at Rook Lane: too cool for their own good? Having heard some examples of their recorded material, I was rather intrigued by the "chamber pop" of this eight-piece which the Festival programme described as "like Kate Bush meeting Vaughan Williams". Mrs W wasn't keen and had to be dragged, kicking and screaming up Bath Street. Well, surprise, surprise, she loved them, and I was left rather cold. Their settings of poetry by the likes of Yeats, Tennyson and Blake were somewhat uncomfortable, and while the more recent songs that featured their own lyrics were much more effective, their on-stage aloofness was alienating. True, they were somewhat cramped on Rook Lane's tiny platform which may have contributed to their unease, but I took it to be a more calculated kind of cool - which turned out to be profoundly "uncool". Curiously, singer Sharon Fortnam was the exception, wrapped up in the emotion of it all, gripping her skirt in both hands and swaying in a sort of semi-orgasmic reverie, completely at odds with what was going on around her. I shall return to their latest album where their attractive, whimsical fusions are attitude-free.

Laurence Parnell at Holy Trinity: a charming guitar recital of (mostly) self-penned compositions, gently melancholic with Celtic touches. A little more light and shade and variation in tempi would not have gone amiss, but Laurence is a likeable and talented performer (who also makes guitars). The accompanying poetry readings on the theme of music were a little superfluous. However, they were well-performed, although microphone technique was somewhat lacking. Overall a delightful way to spend a lunchtime.

"I'm a fairy, get me out of here"

Nunney Players - A Midsummer Night's Dream in the grounds of Rockfield House, Nunney: let's just say that visiting the extremely posh mobile loos (complete with piped music) on our way out at the interval was the highlight of the evening. I don't like admitting defeat at the theatre, as you never know what might be just around the corner in Act II that could save the day. And I really am sympathetic to the particular challenges faced by amateur companies. But this was not good - the main problem being that it was the most anaemic production of one of the Bard's sexiest plays. Mind you, the actors cast as the lovers were so young that the merest hint of any physical attraction might have led to an arrest by the Vice Squad. The chap playing Puck managed to capture the spirit of the play, but sadly one fairy does not a Dream make...

So a rather unsatisfactory end to what had been a very good week of festival-going. But at least it had stopped raining.

All Fired Up

First of all, thanks to Anon for your background on the Fashion Show (once again Blogger is not allowing me to respond to your comment directly for some reason). I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the Richmond Park dog's appearance at The Cornerhouse!

Readers of this blog will, I trust, be aware by now that I am not prone to attacks of hyperbole. But at Stonehenge on Wednesday night, it was a privilege to be part of a truly historic event. Images of ‘Fire Garden’ by the French troupe, Compagnie Carabosse, have been well disseminated already by the media, so you probably don’t need a blow-by-blow account of what it was all about. But for the first time in many a year (outside of the organised "Stone Access" visits), one could wander inside the circle, rather than be restricted to the perimeter path, with only two small areas of fallen stones roped off. (Despite this, Mrs Weekender managed to bash her leg on one. But in the spirit of the Cultural Olympiad, we won’t sue. Unless we can blame McDonald’s, that is...)

In amongst the stones were what can only be described as huge vests, suspended from poles with a candle inside each. The symbolism of this passed me by, but the images were startling. Outside the circle sat various vaguely industrial fire machines, spouting out flame and sparks, along with braziers, kinetic sculptures (the shadows of which were thrown against the stones) and huge globes of fire, flames fizzing from flower pots attached to their frames. There was also live music – a one-man band producing a completely appropriate, melancholy sort of world fusion.  It was quite, quite, magical – not in a fairies-dancing-in-a-ring kind of way, but lo-tech, rusty, slightly dangerous... and thrilling. 


Hats off to London 2012 for commissioning this.

Coming next – back at the Frome Fest, Ian McMillan at Rook Lane.

Brenton v Brenton v The Dempseys

The Frome Drama Club's Festival offering is a late-night one-acter at The Cornerhouse: David Tristram's "Brenton v Brenton".  It's great fun - nothing more, nothing less.  Plundering American soaps, cartoons, "Kramer v Kramer" and even "The Importance of Being Earnest", it's an OTT parody of the American advertising business of the 1980s: Mad Men, twenty years on, and with condom jokes.  Subtle, it ain't, but the production captures the tone perfectly.  The cracking pace lapses only once in a curious sequence where, ironically we fast forward several months. Otherwise the gags come thick and fast (not always hilarious, but consistently smile-worthy) and on Monday night the company battled personfully against the noise of the band that was playing on the ground floor.  And it was to their credit that we believed this was clearly all part of the show, and The Dempseys had simply been hired to provide some Chicago club-next-door atmosphere. Recommended.

Less successful was the Fashion Show.  This must be one of the most inclusive events of the Festival in terms of the breadth of the audience, so it was a shame that those who attended this (and perhaps nothing else?) experienced something that was so uneven.  The models were great - all amateurs, all ages, all shapes and sizes and all very happy in their (sometimes well displayed) skin.  The design work of Frome College was most imaginative, particularly the comic strip skirts.   And the opening dance number (from 'Chicago') was great - sexy and skilfully done.  But technically the evening was rather a mess and the presenters did not appear to be entirely in control of proceedings - though to be fair, one of them (whose name I did not catch) was a last minute stand-in.  It all looked dreadfully under-rehearsed. A shame.

Sensationalism (failed)

Just wanted to share a quote from the Toolshed's blurb about their current exhibition which requires no further comment from me...

Peter Conway is a self educated Human Printer originally from Ipswich ... After years of drawing penises in a vain attempt to be sensationalist, he now makes experimental print works and writes about himself in the third person.

Coming soon - thoughts on 'Brenton v Brenton' at The Cornerhouse...

Heads, Hans and quite a Feat

A second visit to 'Frome Facebook' and Hans kindly let me take some photos. 

Do go and see it.

The Silk Mill, Saxonvale until the 15th, 11 - 5  daily.

And the rain, it raineth every day?

Thoughts on the first weekend of the Frome Festival.

Swan Lake, Frome Feast-style. No need to add water.

It rained, it poured, it bucketed down. The Frome, brown and foamy, raced through the town. The drain cover outside the Archangel could not contain the torrent below. The acts at the Festival Feast moved into the shelter of the Cheese & Grain, but the food stalls stayed outside and the hardy punters queued in the monsoon for Kenyan curries, Mexican burritos and pasta alla Fromiata. Numbers were inevitably down on last year (when the sun shone), but Fromies were not to be denied and a good time seemed to be had by all, despite the lack of Gulf Stream meaning our parade was most definitely rained on.

Then to The Cornerhouse to catch some Gipsy Jazz, but the place was so packed that you could neither see nor hear the band. The Rich’s (on draught) made up for it though.

To the Green Fair at the C&G where a copy of The Somerset Cider Handbook was acquired and will aid and abet my research into the most benevolent sacrifice any apple can make.

Visual arts highlights –

‘Facebook Frome’: Hans Borgonjon’s ‘life masks’ of Frome folk, gathered over the last few months and now on show at the stunning Silk Mill. They inevitably remind you of death masks, but these are Momento (Momenti?) Vitae. They are intriguing, absorbing and ever so slightly creepy.  And it’s good fun to try and spot familiar faces. Next door is The Tool Shed, a new gallery space in this former industrial complex. Beatrice Haines’ ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ is a wide screen representation of a cactus – extraordinarily detailed and both inviting and intimidating; Mark Kasarick’s ‘To Aphrodite’ also manages to be unsettling and attractive – roses and (real) nails make unlikely bedfellows.

Also highly recommended – Ellen Tovey’s startling portraits on show in Lower Keyford, Amy Yates’ semi-abstracted Frome townscapes which can be seen at The Limes and Clive Walley's video installation in Michael Bennett's studio above the museum - a meditation on art and nature, serene and thoughtful.

The afternoon after the night before. But there's a banner!

  

Oh, and further to my post about banners… I’ve spotted three. But the Half Marathon has upstaged the Festival and nabbed pole position…

Festival Fever?

So the Frome Festival is just under a week away, and I have to say I'm getting quite excited in an understated, English sort of way...

Mrs W and I have tickets to a variety of events from Ian MacMillan to the Fashion Show, from the North Sea Radio Orchestra to the Alternative Guide to Frome. One of my recollections of spending the first weekend of the event in the town last year was that there was very little evidence of the Festival actually going on, if you just happened to be passing through. Where were the banners, the flags, the bunting, the outward signs of inner celebration?  Even the local drama and operatic societies manage to string a banner across Stony Street or Cheap Street to promote their productions.

Rue du Roi - pas en fête

I know all this costs and times are currently hard, but hopefully when we roll up on Friday it will be plain to resident and visitor alike that Frome is truly 'en fête'. And, who knows, a few passing punters - otherwise unaware of the riches on offer  - might then be tempted to investigate further...


www.fromefestival.co.uk

Tree Cheers for the Council!

The centre of Frome is a most attractive place with its ancient streets and buildings, except for the unsympathetic Westway Centre and the surrounding tarmac desert of car parks. But the Town Council wants to "soften" the Market Yard parking area with tree planting. This is the first glimpse of the town for many visitors - either leaving their cars there to venture further afield or to attend an event at the Cheese & Grain next door. And it hardly says "Welcome to our unique and historic borough".

The Market Yard from across the river on a 'Frome Flea' day

I say "bravo" and while others may splutter "waste of money", this is actually dosh from the budget that is earmarked for just this sort of thing. And there are times when our surroundings need a helping hand from our political masters. 'Green' volunteers - such as the Friends of the River Frome - can't be relied upon to do it all. 

Now it's just down to Mendip District Council (the owners of the car parks) to rubber stamp the idea. Come on, Mendip, don't be planting poopers...

www.frome-tc.gov.uk

On the air, in the air, everywhere (on and off)...

This has been a big weekend for Frome. Last night the community radio station officially took to the airwaves on 96.6 (despite its name, Frome-FM had only broadcast on the internet up until now). The launch took place at the Assembly Rooms and the Fromarati was out in force. Following a witty "fasten your seat belts" montage from manager Phil Moakes, the first prog proper was a chat show hosted by Sam Phripp and featuring local celebs Luke Leighfield, Mark & Caroline McGann, Cara Dillon and Sam Lakeman, with music from The Bad Detectives. Unsurprisingly the questions were hardly stiletto-like, but the likeable Phripp did a pretty good job. And while he floundered a bit towards the end and the show outstayed its welcome by about 10 minutes, the first 50 were highly entertaining.

So we all wandered off into the Fromian twilight with high hopes for the future of our local station, now all grown up and able to go out on its own on car radios, transistors and radiograms across East Somerset and West Wiltshire. Unfortunately, the best laid plans...

Day One has been a bit of a disaster. Long periods of 'dead air', programmes being abruptly terminated, sponsors messages fading out midstream and so on. One of the flagship launch shows, an ambitious production of Shakespeare's 'The Rape Of Lucrece' with Frome Drama Club, fell foul of the automated play-out system and we were denied Lucrece's tragic end by the technology.

FF-M is a great asset to the town. Run entirely by volunteers, much of its programming is very good indeed and the new frequency will enable it to reach more listeners than ever before. But in these days of multiple media choices, people are notoriously impatient and will quickly re-tune if the output is not up to scratch. Hopefully the glitches of today are merely teething problems and will quickly be cured by the radio equivalent of a dose of clove oil.

www.fromefm.co.uk

Frome Festival - arts for all?

Frome Festival starts in just over a month's time. The brochure is available and the famous Tunnel Tours sold out within minutes of tickets going on sale. It's a great asset to the town, but it's under threat. The organisers have warned that unless income increases, this could be the last one. That would be a tragedy for a community with such a lively cultural scene.

The Duke of Monmouth ponders on whether being
the pin-up boy of the Frome Fest is as good as being King...

The festival embraces music (of all genres), theatre, the visual arts and literature, plus walks, talks, workshops and open gardens. The programming is varied and imaginative - but mostly within what you might call a middle-class, middlebrow artistic policy. Why not take some open-air performances to the housing estates on the edge of town, rather than restrict shows to the usual central venues? Street theatre won't make pots of money, far from it. But it might well produce oodles of goodwill. And at times like this, PR can be as important as cash in hand.

www.fromefestival.co.uk

Walk a mile in my shoes...

Walking can be a frustrating hobby, but then there are cloud/silver lining moments that make it all worth while...

The Best Laid Plans of the Weekenders today led to us to Beckington, a pretty stone village just to the north of Frome. A copy of 'Where Somerset Meets Wiltshire' in hand, our guide (usually reliable and informative) sent us across a stile that was no more, into a strip of field (barely trodden) to a barbed wire fence lacking in any exit. The cricketers on the adjoining pitch looked on nonplussed, as if they'd seen it all before.

Iford Eyeful

We've hit too many rambling dead ends in our time to do anything other than abandon a false lead, so a quick peruse sent us to another of WSMW's suggestions. And what a joy... Avoncliff is one of those places where the Kennet & Avon Canal crosses the River Avon by aqueduct. The railway line is squeezed into the only other bit of land that isn't either river-wide or gorge-steep. The walk was varied and delightful. Reminiscent of the Wye Valley in parts, and still filled with the scent (of the now past-its-best) wild garlic, it follows the Avon and then the Frome via Freshford and Harold Peto's Iford Manor, before a steep climb up to Westwood and a final descent back to Avoncliff.

Arriving at Iford just too late for a cup of their famous tea, we nonetheless had a chat with the housekeeper who was about to lock up. She gave us a brief history of the place and revealed herself to be an example of history's cyclical nature - she had ended up on the same estate as her one-time mill-worker antecedents.

Westwood is hosting a Scarecrow Festival. Slightly naff? You might think so, but the topical theme of Kings & Queens had inspired the locals to come up with some wonderfully witty creations such as King Kong and Burger King (!), as well as the somewhat more inevitable fairy tales. Clever, the good folk of Westwood.

Westwood Royalty

This unexpected excursion was rounded off with a large glass of house white and a half of Box Steam's Funnel Blower at the Cross Guns' beer garden, right on the riverside. We watched the trout, almost suspended in the shallows, while musing on serendipity. It all worked all right in the end.

www.ifordmanor.co.uk
www.crossguns.net

The Village Gets A By-Pass

To the Cheese & Grain last night for The Imagined Village.

Organisational whinge out of the way first. Cabaret-style seating (nice) around the edge of the hall, standing room in the centre (daft). Sightlines - terrible. At the Folk Festival, the seating was at the front, standing room at the back. Sightlines - good. Is it that difficult to get right?

Anyway, onto the music. The IV is a multi-cultural, folk fusion supergroup (!). They first brought English folk music kicking and screaming into the 21st Century a few years back by adding electronica, dance beats and ethnic elements to traditional songs. Sometimes it worked brilliantly, sometimes it was embarrassing, but it was always bold and never less than interesting. On the evidence of last night's show though, they are moving away from this into predominantly original compositions that hint at the tradition, but never quite set the goosebumps, er, a-bumping.

The evening took off in fits and starts - whenever Johnny Kalsi was released from behind his array of percussion to take centre stage with the dhol, the temperature in the hall rose appreciably. And when Martin Carthy took the vocals in Billy Bragg re-jig of Hard Times of Old England, the original, imaginative purpose of the band shone through. Carthy fille, Eliza, was full of vim and vigour, bouncing around the stage like Tigger-meets-a-rock-chick. Sometimes when a musician is demonstrably enjoying him or herself, this can actually alienate an audience - the party's going on up there and we're not invited. But Eliza's enthusiasm was endearing and infectious.

Eliza Carthy in a rare moment of a calm at the C & G

There was one truly bizarre moment. Carthy Senior sang Slade's "Cum On Feel The Noize" in a dirge-like arrangement. What was the point of performing this as if it was some gloomy 18th Century murder ballad? Was it an example of the Louis Armstrong Philosophy? (He once said ALL music is folk music). Frankly, it was just odd.

So an uneven evening with the Villagers. Where will they go next - back to their roots or further into folk-pop territory? I fear for the latter.


www.imaginedvillage.com

Horses for Courses

Oh no! Someone's only gone and booked another concert into the Westway (Kirsty Almeida on the 24th). After our experience at the Folk Festival, I suggest you get there very early and nab a place near the front or else you'll only see the top of her head. It's a cinema, not a concert hall, and the rake of the seating reflects this...

Very much looking forward to The Imagined Village at the C&G this Friday night though...

http://realworldrecords.com/videos/the-imagined-village-trailer

On The Cloth Trail

The Cloth Road is a marketing wheeze to promote an art trail linking a handful of towns and villages on the Somerset/Wiltshire border that historically had connections to the textile trade - Bradford-On-Avon, Trowbridge, Corsham etc. The Cloth Road may not be the Silk Road, but it has its bucolic charms. Mrs W and I sallied forth amidst Bank Holiday rain to sample some of them. Veterans of arts trails, we know that sometimes the venues are more interesting than the work And to see inside some ancient Norton St. Philip homes was a rare treat. The village has joined the trail for the first time this year and all power to its collective and creative elbow, but here the architecture triumphed over the art.

The real treats were to be found in Bradford (we got no further after a late start). We'd never visited the wonderful collection of buildings that was once Barton Farm before and what a surprise... Centred around a 14th century tithe barn, there are shops and a tea room and as part of the trail the tough, yet paradoxically elegant work of blacksmith Brian Greaves was on show. Brian, surprisingly, works on a narrowboat moored on the Kennet & Avon Canal just behind the barn.  I guess one advantage is that there's plenty of water about if the forge ever gets out of control...

So were we...

Then to Melissa Wishart exhibiting mostly coastal scenes in her beach hut-like summerhouse. We were moved to put our hands in our pocket and invest in a small and very reasonably priced moody Scottish seascape.

Finally to the Artemis Gallery where we chatted to the delightful Frome painter, Caroline Walsh-Waring, about the challenges of marketing art and encountered for the first time the remarkable work of Cath Bloomfield: intense and dense collographs of flora, fauna and females (with stitching). Fascinating.

The Cloth Road Arts Week continues until the 13th May.


www.clothroadartists.com


PS Down in Vallis Vale the wild garlic is in full flower and aroma. Well worth a wander.

Here's to you, Benjamin Braddock

Frome Drama Club continued its obsession with all things transatlantic with a production of The Graduate at the Merlin last week.  While their last show (and our first experience of FDC) was a triumph (Ayckbourn's very English The Revengers' Comedies) , the company seemed less at ease with the American vernacular (though ironically they keep on producing plays written or based across the pond).

It was technically slick - good sound, lighting and video projection - and staged with a boldness (complete with sex scenes of varying athleticism) that would leave many an am dram company hiding behind their Noel Coward scripts. But somehow it never really took off. It wasn't as funny as it should have been nor as sexy. But there were a couple of stand-out performances  - Dan Gaisford as the eponymous lead (perhaps a little old for the part, but still convincing) and Tina Waller as the girl he eventually leads away from the altar and off to a happy ending in a motel room.

I wonder if the directors are enamoured of American theatre, while the actors are more comfortable on British soil. Their autumn production is Macbeth set during World War I. We shall see if the witches can weave some home-grown magic.

http://www.fromedrama.com

Moving Pictures

To the Black Swan for Portraits of the Working People of Somerset. When I first read about this, I had my doubts. What would be the point of getting people to pose and then video-ing them, rather than just shooting still images? What would video add? And the title was hardly a grabber, either. 


But I was converted. Projected onto the end wall of the gallery, they are beautifully lit and shot - subdued colours with hints of Victorian photography and Vermeer. The seated ones work best (those standing look rather uncomfortable). A potter, a basket weaver, a coffin maker, a stone carver, cheese makers and so on sit perfectly still in profile with their work and/or tools around them. Then a slight turn to camera -  and the effect is both surprising and revealing. 


The accompanying oral history interviews would benefit from some judicious editing (a frequent problem with oral histories for the casual listener/viewer), but the portraits are well worth a visit. I've not spent such a long time in a gallery, so engrossed, for many a day.


At the Black Swan until 5th May.


http://www.blackswan.org.uk/exhibitions_black_swan_arts_Detail.php?Portraits-of-the-Working-People-of-Somerset-29

An Embarrassment of Riches

Fromians and regular readers of this blog will be well aware of the town's remarkable cultural life. But sometimes you can have too much of a good thing. Last night, for example, there was Savoy Brown at the Cheese & Grain, Frome Choral Society at the Wesleyan Church, comedy with Nick Revell (amongst others) at The Cornerhouse and (I quote) "Suzy Quatro's Sax Player" at The Archangel. And there may have been more going on that I'm unaware of.

Hats off to events co-ordination!
(Frome Folk Fest 2012 at the Cheese & Grain)

Are all these events competing for the same audience? Would each have benefitted from being on a different night? There are some Saturdays when very little is on offer, so wouldn't some sort of entertainment co-ordinator be a good idea in order to avoid this kind of overload? There was talk of the C & G taking on the role of central box office for the town's venues - maybe they could keep a "clash diary" too?


PS Thank you for your comment below, "Dream Job". (Blogger is misbehaving and won't let me reply directly). I take your point, but I have incontrovertible evidence, m'lud. May I refer you to OS Explorer Map 142...?

A Sign of the Times?

During World War II, signposts were removed in what would surely have been a vain attempt to confuse any invading Germans (didn't the Third Reich have maps?). But at one time or another, we must all have suffered from missing signs or deliberately altered ones while on foreign territory - be that Swindon or Swaziland.

There's a sign on Frome Bridge which I pass regularly. It directs cyclists onto National Cycle Network route 24 and pedestrians to the railway station (it's a handy short cut if you're catching a train - 90% pedestrianised, avoiding the town centre and a steep hill). It is fixed to a post and is constantly being turned round, thus sending any visitor who doesn't know the town in the wrong direction. What a laugh, eh? All those people who visit Frome, spending money in the shops and restaurants, being sent God knows where. And you know what, depending on how much this wild goose chase spoils their day out, they might not come back. How hilarious is that?

I don't have a photo of the sign, but here's one of the bridge
(courtesy of Ross Websdale on Flickr).

I've tried to get into the mindset of those who tweak signs. Are they so disengaged from society (big or small) that to send someone up the wrong path is their perverse way of "making a difference"? While the more public spirited amongst us would get satisfaction from pointing a stranger in the right direction, these individuals get their kicks from the opposite?

Whatever their motivation, I shall continue to turn the sign back whenever it has been molested. And I urge you to do the same with any in your neck of the woods. A passing German might just thank you for it.

On The Level(s)

First of all, many thanks to Anonymous for his/her entertaining and informative comments.
Interesting your thoughts on Wiltshire being posh. Have you ever been to Swindon?

Good Friday was spent on the Somerset Levels around Langport/Muchelney, an area we've always wanted to explore. My image of the fenland prior to this visit was dominated by Don McCullin's photographs - monochrome, wintry, wet, bleak, big skies etc etc. On Friday, the fields were green, the skies big, yes, but blue and sunny, and (thanks to the recent lack of rain) the earth was dry and cracked - more Sahara than Somerset. It was still wonderful, the walking was easy, Muchelney and Langport were each fascinating in their own way (especially Mulcheney's infamous brazen angels), but it was all a bit more neat and tidy than I'd expected.

One of the "uninhibited" angels on the ceiling of Muchelney Church
 (not at all McCullinesque )

It's interesting how one's preconceptions of a place are either reinforced or undermined by the actual experience of being there. Is our response ever exactly what we expected? Are we always to some degree surprised - either in a positive or negative way? Do those preconceptions get in the way of a genuine reaction to somewhere? Research and learning are marvellous things, and technology has made them easier to acquire than ever. But sometimes I wonder if Ignorance really is Bliss.

http://www.aperture.org/exposures/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/008_mccullin.jpg/bmi_orig_img/008_mccullin.jpg

Borderlands

What does a county mean to its residents? Here in Frome we are virtually on the border between Somerset and Wiltshire. Not far to the south west is Dorset, a few minutes north the less-than-poetic acronym that is BANES (Bath and North East Somerset). Although we are in Somerset, our DAB radio thinks BBC Wiltshire is our local station. To listen to BBC Somerset we have to go analogue. And we tuned into the Beeb’s local offering this morning -  an outside broadcast from Watchet; a coastal town at the far end of the county from here that has little in common with Frome except the last line of its postal address. It set me thinking about county identity – is there such a thing for most of us? (We’ll leave Yorkshire out of the equation).

Reflections on identity? Nunney Castle (which is in Somerset)

Our immediate neighbours here at Weekender Towers work in BANES, Wiltshire and Somerset. Frome people don’t think twice about shopping in or using the better train service from Warminster and are highly exercised about the recent controversial changes to access at the Longleat Estate (both in Wiltshire).

I was born in Essex and identify more with the town of my birth than the land of TOWIE. Cricket fans may feel attached to their county teams and we all have a financial stake in the administrative body via our council taxes. Maybe if you live in the geographical heart of a county, working and playing within its boundaries, it means much more. Parents with children will think carefully about which local authority runs which schools and that may well colour attitudes to the lines on the map. But generally speaking, if you’re in border country, does it really make any difference to day-to-day living and state of mind? Does anyone on this side of the divide say, “I’m not going to the new Waitrose in Warminster because it’s in Wiltshire”? I doubt it very much.

The Mystery of the Stones

Every time we drive to and from our adopted home, we pass Stonehenge.  Whatever the time of day, week or year, there is a constant stream of pilgrims circling the stones, paying homage. For us it has a particular, if somewhat trivial, meaning - it signifies that we are well over half-way to Frome, and the change in landscape as we climb up from Amesbury lifts the soul. But why do people travel from all over the country (and all over the world) to see a a collection of rocks in a Wiltshire field? Is it simply their age - the fact that they are still here at all? Is it the myths and legends that are attached to the place? Or is it because it's a World Heritage Site and must simply be ticked off from the list of X Hundred Things To Do Before You Die?

A heap of stones in Wiltshire

In the 1990s, you might recall there was a quite a craze for "spiritual" music - Gorecki, Tavener et al. Aided and abetted by some canny marketing, people who wouldn't usually touch contemporary classical music with their neighbour's bargepoles, snapped up works like 'The Symphony of Sorrowful Songs' and 'The Protecting Veil'. The feeling was that traditional religion was not fulfilling the need we have for something beyond this temporal being, and that this music filled the vacuum.

I wonder if a visit to Stonehenge likewise - knowingly or unknowingly - somehow connects people to an other-worldly past, plugging a gap in our predominantly secular 21st Century lives. The same coach parties might go on to Salisbury Cathedral or Bath Abbey. Are they all connected?

http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/stonehenge

PS. Am going to try and get to this - spiritual void or no spiritual void:  http://www.salisburyfestival.co.uk/cms/site/news/the-festival-presents-fire-garden-at-stonehenge-for-the-london-2012-festival.aspx

Happiness is...

First, the bad news. Foods of the World is the latest victim of Frome Empty Shop Syndrome. Following hard on the heels (or maybe that should be some other part of the anatomy) of the recently departed Opal Lingerie, FOTW’s offering of herbs, spices and North African pottery has also failed to stay afloat. As the Saxonvale debate rumbles on, the death of another independent retailer will only add fuel to the anti-big town centre supermarket feeling that is abroad amongst certain sections of the community.

The good news is that those people who still have jobs in retail seem to be quite happy with their lot. Shop workers here – in both the independents and the chains – are a darn sight more friendly than they are in London or Surrey. Why? The work is more or less the same wherever you are: customers come in, buy things (usually), pay (usually) and leave, deliveries are taken, shelves are stocked etc etc. It can only be something to do with the general ambience of this town. Measuring happiness is all the rage these days - my survey is entirely unscientific, but I would say that on the basis of a Friday afternoon shop, the quotient is pretty high around here. Another noticeable difference about the residents of Frome compared to Londoners is that they do not walk the streets with their eyes glued to their smart phones, texting and tweeting their lives away. Frome is far from a technology-free zone - The Garden Café and La Strada, for example, offer wi-fi and you will see customers in there sipping their lattes and using their laptops. But it’s as if tweetmania has passed it by. Is it possible that not being in thrall to your mobile also makes you a happier, more sociable human being?

http://gardencafefrome.co.uk

http://www.cafelastrada.co.uk

The Meaning of Blog?

A colleague and reader of this blog (a blogger, herself: http://findyourdreamjob.wordpress.com) had a pop at me this week about my Bath Literature Festival post (below). It was, she said, too critical, too much of a whinge. Well, she may have had a point (though I will steadfastly continue to report the negative side of things, if negatives there be). But the conversation did make me think about the point of blogs.

Why do they exist?
Vanity publishing? Therapy? A chance to make the personal public? To offer new perspectives? To entertain, to inform? To irritate?

Probably all or a selection of the above in most cases. Certainly the blog-as-complaint can make for tiresome reading, though in my defence I was very upbeat about 'Jilted'! As a one-time reviewer of theatre/film/visual arts, I believe in the positive power of criticism. There's enough back-slapping and "darling, you were marvellous" going on in the arts, without me adding to it here.  No-one's work will ever improve without some constructive comment - positive and negative.

On a more general note, I believe the best blog writing takes the micro and makes it macro - espousing a personal view that has the power to resonate with those of us beyond the writer's immediate world. I also think that the outsider's opinion can be of interest. Not being immersed 100% in Frome life, I hope to provide a fresh view of the town, its people and (especially) its cultural offering. It's easy to take somewhere for granted when you live in it 24/7. And while I'm not arrogant enough to suggest that life-long Fromians should take any notice of the ramblings of an upstart weekender, I do at least hope that a different take on the place might be diverting, if nothing more.

PS This morning I received a part refund for the Nick Coleman ticket - thank you, Bath Festivals!

The Cars That Ate Bath

How marvellous, we thought, when we bought Weekender Towers. Frome is only 13 miles from Bath - in addition to the obvious charms of our adopted town, we could also avail ourselves of the cultural delights of the Georgian City. Some hope. We booked tickets for two events at this weekend's Literature Festival - but only managed to get to one of them.

I am all in favour of keeping historic town centres free from being clogged up by the privately-owned internal combustion engine: Park & Ride is a terrific idea. But not a lot of use when the last bus is at 8.30 - and this in a city that prides itself on its cultural offering (ie. things that tend to happen in the evenings). So, as much as we did not want to add to Bath's pollution and congestion, we had to drive in on Saturday afternoon (last train to Frome wasn't an option either, before you ask...) An hour and a quarter later, after a tour of the city's streets and its car parks, we gave up looking for a space and escaped to Limpley Stoke. From where we rang the Box Office: "Hello, we have tickets for two shows today and can't find anywhere to park. Would you like to offer them as returns?" "Certainly - just bring them into the Box Office, here in the City Centre..."

So we abandoned Nick Coleman's talk (sorry) and strolled along the Kennet & Avon instead. We drove back into town just after 5pm by when, inevitably, there were loads of on-street spaces. A couple of glasses of vino italiano and the conversation of the delightful staff of 'Sotto, Sotto' on North Parade eased the frayed nerves. And then we sallied forth (past Sally Lunn's) to the one event we had managed to salvage. And, fortunately, "Jilted" was terrific - a multi-composer, mini-chamber opera for two unaccompanied singers that mused on what would have happened if Mrs Dickens had met Miss Havisham. It took place in the frankly downright ugly chapel of the Mineral Hospital (bad restoration after the WW2 bombing, maybe?), but fortunately the composition and performances easily upstaged the location. The composers included Jocelyn 'Blow The Wind' Pook, the music was contemporary, challenging, but melodic and the two performers - Melanie Pappenheim and Rebecca Askew - were superb, blending humour and pathos with a big dollop of charm. It's a work in progress and well worth keeping an eye out for.

Shakespeare Unplugged? Unnecessary, more like...

Which is more than could be said for Friday night's offering - a free performance of Ben Crystal's stage adaptation of Shakespeare's narrative poem "Venus and Adonis" by Roughhouse Theatre (at least we didn't have to book...)  It took place in the basement of a pub/restaurant (Gascoyne Place), and while Shakespeare might have recognised the ambience (actors' voices struggling against the racket from Friday night drinkers upstairs  - all very Elizabethan), I doubt he would have been very impressed by the interpretation. While "The Rape of Lucrece" has been successfully adapted for performance, 'Venus' is different kettle of iambic pentameter. So little actually happens - Venus (gorgeous, a goddess) gets the hots for Adonis (gorgeous, a mortal). He is more interested in hunting than in her and  - despite eventually succumbing to Venus' wooing  - ends up being gored to death by a boar (serves him right). For Venus this is the end of the world, existence, the universe, Life, being etc etc. Get over it, girl, it was just a one-night stand. And, anyway, goddesses should be above such things. The jokey first half (was the director sending the whole thing up  - or did he just think it needed an injection of humour?) meant that when the tragedy finally came to pass, nobody really gave a damn. Even a faintly embarrassing sex scene failed to inject much interest - I kept thinking how much longer that creaking chair could stand the strain of the writhing couple. The chorus wasn't bad - at least their verse speaking was up to scratch. But the actress playing Venus merely looked the part and I felt quite sorry for Adonis who spent much of the action looking awkward, while trying to avoid being seduced. Just round the corner from the pub is a branch of Superdrug  - and there was more chemistry in there than between our two lovers. Ben Crystal is an admirable advocate for accessibility to the Bard, but I'm not sure this sort of thing does much to help his cause.

Here's a pic of the Palladian Bridge in Prior Park.
It's got nothing to do with the Festival, but it's beautiful, and it's in Bath...

http://www.bathlitfest.org.uk

The Great Cucumber Mystery

A couple of weeks ago we bought a cucumber on the way home from a walk along Vallis Vale. Within two minutes of leaving the shop it had disappeared and there was a tell-tale hole in the carrier bag. We immediately re-traced our steps, but it was nowhere to be seen. Relating this story the next day to some Fromians, they told us the area where the rogue vegetable went AWOL was once notorious as a red light district. Its name? Badcox.

On the whole, it was folking good...

In my blog of the 8th Jan, I expressed my concerns about the line-up of the inaugural Frome Folk Festival, which is drawing to a close as I write.  I needn't have worried (too much).

The quality of the performances was, given the nature of an event like this, inevitably varied, ranging from the mundane to the startling. Attendances were healthy and  - with the odd notable exception  - the event was pretty much glitch free.

Dyer : Cummings' bassoonist wonders
if there's a breakfast rider in the contract

I can only report on the Saturday as we had to return from whence we come today, but it kicked off at the Cheese & Grain at the unlikely hour of 9.15am with local combo Dyer : Cummings. Belying their tender years, this quartet was completely unfazed by a dozy, morning audience's lackadaisical response and put in a highly commendable and energetic shift.

Then to a dreary room in the Masonic Hall to hear Rivers of England. Playing as a duo, their set hinted at how interesting the material might be, given more ambitious arrangements for a larger line-up.

Back to the C&G and Festival Patron and local resident, Cara Dillon, enthusiastically introduced Winter Mountain, while failing to mention that they are the first signing to her and husband Sam Lakeman's new label. Which might go some way to explain her enthusiasm. Their voices were beautiful, but does the world need a Simon & Garfunkel clone?

Jackie Oates puts on a brave face in the
light of  Weekender's criticism

We once saw Jackie Oates play solo aboard an industrial barge. She was terrific. But her set with her band yesterday was lacking in variety. She's a talented woman, but needs more light and shade in her repertoire.

At the Westway Cinema next, for Belshazzar's Feast (festival organisers please note - the sight lines are terrible). We only caught half an hour, but they were witty, entertaining, highly skilful and delivered far more than their rather wimpy last album, Find The Lady, promised. An act to catch up with at length elsewhere.

We had to leave the Feast to attend a singing workshop. Now, while Mrs Weekender has sung in amateur choirs, my vocalising has been mostly limited to audience participation at gigs. But the thought of 90 minutes in the company of Caroline Radcliffe must have struck a (vocal) chord somewhere. It was terrific. Caroline had us singing Swedish and Gaelic folksong and performing complicated rounds and harmonies. Experienced singers lined up besides novices and the whole thing was conducted in a terrific spirit. Bravo for participation.

But then the low spot of the day. Back to the Westway for Elfynn. They were late going on (no explanation offered) and suffered technical problems throughout. Their stand-in singer made her nerves quite clear and it was easy to see why their brand of folk-rock rose and fell very quickly in the 1970s. I hope their ceilidh this morning was more successful.

The Cheese & Grain puts the flags out

So to the finale - Jamie Smith's Mabon and Spiers & Boden at the C&G  - via a quick diversion to the Masons for half an hour of the inexplicably delayed Daturas. Interesting line-up (the only sighting of the Lesser Spotted Pedal Steel all day) and intriguing, passionate songs. But their sulky presentation did little to endear them to those of us of a certain age.

Jamie Smith's Mabon (not to be confused with 'Mabon' - the reason for that is a long and seemingly acrimonious story of family feuds) were absolutely superb. Where Elfynn sounded dated, this lot married a rock rhythm section to a traditional front line and the result was fresh, powerful and hugely entertaining. Smith is simply one of the best accordion players I have ever seen. But would they upstage the top of the bill? S & B came out with all guns blazing, proving a fiddle, a melodeon and a pair of stamping feet can be as exciting as any roaring rock band. It's been a while since we'd seen them, so was this new energy in response to Mabon's storming set? Or have they simply got more rock 'n' roll as Bellowhead goes from strength to strength? Whatever the reason, they married traditional song and dance to oodles of modern day oomph, and the result was hugely exhilarating.

John Spiers looks to the heavens for inspiration
(or at least the lighting rig at the Cheese & Grain)

So, 8 out of 10 from the judges: a score only slightly tarnished by the lack of activity in the town centre this mornng. A "Morris Market" was promised all weekend, complete with dancers. At midday today there was nothing going on. The music inside the venues may be quality, but it's out on the streets that the real impact of this event will be made with the people of Frome, most of whom will almost certainly not have been converted to the folkie cause.

But will it become a permanent fixture in the cultural calendar? Tickets for Frome Folk Festival 2013 went on sale yesterday.


http://www.fromefolkfestival.co.uk

Bras & Bravos

Randa Bott stares, smiling, out of the front page of the current edition of The List. She's promoting her lingerie shop on The Bridge. But between the magazine going to press and this weekend, the shop has put up the closing down notices. This is unfortunate  - not because I avail myself of Randa's goods (sorry not to be able to reveal that Weekender is a cross-dresser) - but because any one-off retailer in Frome that has to close down is bad news for a town that sells itself on its independent shops. And Opal's demise is a double whammy. Frome is proud of its bridge: along with nearby Bath, it claims to be the only town in Britain with shops along a river crossing. The cafe here has already shut, and Randa's imminent departure leaves a big hole in this historic retail strip.

Better news this weekend from The Black Swan - its 2012 Open Art Exhibition has just opened, and the quality and variety is excellent. We were particularly impressed by Annemarie Blake's wide screen, monochrome (and local) landscape, the manipulated photographs of Joseph Beveridge, Alison Shanks' witty ceramic toaster and the textures of Mark Nesbit's 'Titanic'. The gallery needs support, and it was encouraging to see so many people there this morning. Well worth a visit, for all sorts of reasons.

www.thelistfrome.co.uk

www.opallingerie.co.uk

www.blackswan.org.uk

The People's Hall?

The Cheese & Grain is something of a hot potato in Frome (sorry about the food metaphor...) This town centre community venue seems to be loved and loathed in equal measure. A glorified disco that leaches money hand over fist, says its opponents. An invaluable resource that combines local events with concerts featuring national names, trumpets its supporters.

It's certainly one of the reasons we bought a place in Frome, and you won't be surprised to hear that we are firmly in the pro- lobby. The place is a symbol of the town's commitment to the arts, but that's not all. It's not just a concert hall - farmers' markets, antiques & wedding fairs, craft shows, bingo all serve parts of the community that may not attend a musical performance. The Big Christmas Get-Together for those who could not afford a festive lunch was held there too.

The C&G is back on the agenda again now as the Town Council is proposing to move its offices there, investing in the upper floor, installing solar panels etc.

These are tough times. Local Authority spending is stretched. But every now and then leaps of faith are necessary on the part of our elected representatives. And stumping up the cash for benefits that cannot be measured can be justified.

http://www.cheeseandgrain.co.uk

http://www.frome-tc.gov.uk

Share and share alike...

As Frome considers the concept of a "shared space" in the Market Place, here's an interesting take on the subject from the Capital:

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-24032482-shared-space-is-the-future-for-londons-roads.do

Music to our ears?

To the Big Garage On The Hill (aka the Wiltshire Music Centre - see blog of 18.12.11) for Québecois trio, Genticorum.

The auditorium looked slightly less stark than at our last visit as the tastefully pastel-coloured acoustic panels had been put up to give the place a more intimate sound. But it still feels more car maintenance than concert hall. The band was good - technically highly proficient with oodles of good humour in their presentation. But only the a capella numbers gave the hairs on the back of my neck any exercise. This was perhaps more to do with the very nature of the French-Canadian music they play which, stripped of the big band arrangements of the likes of La Bottine Souriante or the more eclectic style of La Volée d'Castors, comes across as rather relentlessly repetitive.

It didn't help that for the whole of the first half Yann Falquet's guitar was virtually inaudible. I mentioned this to him in the interval (someone had to) and matters improved somewhat in part 2.That was until Yann whipped out his Jew's Harp (!)  - which we couldn't hear either.

There's not much point in playing a hall which trumpets "the best acoustic outside London", if your sound engineer has Van Gogh's ear for music.

www.genticorum.com

www. wiltshiremusic.org

Wassup? Wassail!

Today, myself, Mrs W and a friend from Surrey attended the Kilmersdon Wassail, held in the village that gave the world "Jack and Jill". This was my bright idea, as I've always had an interest in folk traditions - and the others humoured me. We travelled from Frome with some trepidation, as village events don't always welcome outsiders with open arms (visions of Royston Vasey and the Local Shop for Local People came to mind).  However, we needn't have worried. While it would be inaccurate to say we were clutched to the bosom of Kilmersdon, the people were welcoming enough and certainly did not make visitors feel excluded. A ploughman's lunch (with cider  - of course) in the Village Hall (with music from the Village Band) was followed by the crowning of the 2012 Wassail Queen. As MC Martin Horler (splendid in smock and bowler - and playing a mean pair of spoons) explained: they don't elect the Queen, it's more like the naming of a new Dalai Lama - they just know who it should be...


Cam Valley Morris danced in the car park and and then off we 'processed', past the church, up the hill to the Community Orchard (via a flood from the sewage works), led by the band. The Queen placed a slice of toast in one of the apple trees (to attract Robin Goodfellow) and poured cider around its roots (to remind it of its purpose in life), shotguns were fired (to scare away the evil spirits), the Kilmersdon Wassail Song was sung, spiced mulled cider was drunk by all from Wassail Cups (hygiene regs?), Cam Morris danced and off we went to repeat the process in the grounds of the Old School House. This was followed by tea (in proper cups), apple cake and more dancing.


The whole event was brilliantly managed  - relaxed, yet well organised. No-one was rushed, but the timetable was (more or less) adhered to.  There was great good humour, but the tradition was respected. Martin was a terrific host - not assuming everyone there knew exactly was going on and explaining the various elements with wit and warmth.


A vital midwinter ritual well worth preserving and sustaining -  or a load of superstitious old nonsense reserved for sandal-wearing folkies? (though any sandal wearers would have got rather damp and cold today). On the evidence of this afternoon, the former wholeheartedly gets my vote. Oh, and the spiced cider was superb...


www.camvalleymorris.org.uk


http://homepages.tesco.net/~brennig.jones/kilmersdon.htm