Folk music Archives - thegoodwills.com

New Year rolling relentlessly along

My friend Joy sent one of Jacquie Lawson’s life-affirming animated cards for New Year, a positive message delivered as a calendar, pages flipping to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. It was a northern hemisphere theme, but the message was universal – the wonders of nature.

As for last week’s flippant item about fluffy news, the opening days of 2023 delivered anything but. At New Year drinks, assembled guests inevitably began talking about the bad news of preceding days and weeks. The Tara shooting is still (and probably always will be), bewilderingly pointless. There are Court cases to come involving a traffic accident in which three people died. There’s the home invasion which left a young mother dead and her husband injured. There were drownings, fatal car accidents and a helicopter crash that killed four people.

Where’s a cat up a tree story when you need one?

For my part, I’ve been quite busy as one of my pro bono jobs is editing the U3A Warwick newsletter, an 18-page publication (due today). I was chasing up sponsors who booked advertising space. I made up an ad in Publisher and sent it for approval, quietly invigorated by finding that I can be multi-skilled at my age.

Mind you, race walker Heather Lee (96), could teach me a thing or two. ABC Breakfast interviewed Heather (a lone, good news contribution). She was lamenting that she can no longer compete in her age group – because she’s the only one.

Watching Heather briskly walking, arms swinging, made me prise myself out of the recliner, stretch my hammies and vow to return to the gym. If you make New Year resolutions, that should be Number 1, really. If we’re not fit and active, chances are we’ll soon be on a wheelie walker or in a wheelchair.

Neither of these options appeal to me, but at 70+ with diagnosed brittle bones, I have made getting fitter than I am a priority.

It’s all about exercise, stretching, lunging, eating good food and drinking lots of water; it’s also about brisk walking, not quite the Heather Lee standard but not dog-walking pace either.

The realisation that I was not as fit as I have been came while trudging around the Woodford Folk Festival site, up hill and down, on roads which had been knocked about by rain. I had not been to Woodford for some years. It was always tiring, no matter how fit you were. One year at Woodford, realising that the tiredness comes from the endless walking from one venue to another, I took up residence at one venue and stayed there for the duration. It sure was better than catching the last song of John Butler’s set or not being able to get into the tent when you wanted to be in the front row.

Woodford, with its teeming thousands milling about, is a place where you might meet someone you know and then again, not. In previous years, it seemed as if our age group (the over-60s) was well represented. This year, it was like being at Splendour in the Grass. Most attendees seemed to be in the 18-29 age group and of course there were kids and babies everywhere.

I was one of the few men I spotted wearing jeans. Most were clad in shorts, long hippy pants or on occasions, sarongs. Hardly anyone wore a hat (Albo did), and I guess they will pay for it later.

We were there for the 9am tribute to the extraordinary folk singer, comedian and writer John Thompson, who died in February 2021, aged 56. His widow Nicole Murray put the show together with the help of friends Fred Smith and Ian Dearden. They covered a lot of territory in just 50 minutes; there were performances from singers who’d been in bands with John, a special Morris Dance to the tune of his song ‘Brisbane River’ and a spooky rendition of The Parting Glass by the Spooky Men’s Chorale. As director Stephen Taberner told the full-house crowd, John had at one point joined the Spookies for a tour of the UK. If you did not know of John, you might have seen him as the Songman in the stage production Warhorse, which toured Australia and New Zealand.

A cheerful highlight of the tribute was a rendition of John’s song ‘Bill and the Bear’, about a Maleny man who wrestled a bear at Wirth’s Circus, back in the day. A scratch orchestra led by brass player Mal Webb marched in from the back of the venue to play the extended instrumental.

It was an appropriately sombre, hilarious, cheerful and tearful event. John would have been incredulous that he could draw a full house at a 9am festival gig.

From there, I wandered off to catch Jem Casser-Daley at one of her first Woodford gigs. Jem played piano and was backed by a drummer and bass player. She’s young and her songs are mostly about feeling young and vulnerable, broken relationships or being stood up for a date. She’s confident, natural, has a beautiful voice and showed her musical pedigree by including two covers. First came Neil Young’s ‘Harvest Moon’, maybe inspired by A.J. Lee and maybe not, and then delving into her Dad’s record collection to come up with Carole King’s ‘It’s Too Late’, Baby. Jem Casser-Daley, star of the future.

I found my way back to the 9am venue in time for Eric Bogle’s sound check in which the pithy Scotsman sang ‘For nearly 60 years I’ve been a jockey’. Later, he sang the real song with great heart, as he always does. As a songwriter who is always asked to sing the same one or two songs at gigs, I felt for Eric once again working through ‘No Man’s Land’ (also known as ‘The Green Fields of France’), which was a huge hit for the Fureys and set Eric off on the life of a touring musician. At 77, he’s still in good voice, quipping away between songs and bantering with fellow musicians, Emma Luker (fiddle) and Pete Titchener (guitar and vocals). I feel tired just writing this, but Eric went from a tour of New Zealand in October to a 13-concert tour here in November and a few gigs in December before the tour bus rolled into Woodford. As the quote goes on his tour posters: ‘A mixture of loquacious Scottish humour and exceptionally heartfelt folk songs’. (The Irish Times).

Songwriters tend to become identified with a certain type of song – in Bogle’s case songs about World War I. He told his Woodford audience that he had published 230 songs, of which only 12 are about WWI. He also revealed he had registered ‘No Man’s Land’ under both titles!

Eric is one of three songwriters who wrote a tribute for John Thompson, ‘Catching the Wave’, which is on his latest album, Source of Light.

Fred Smith, better known for songs about the conflict in Afghanistan, penned the as-yet unreleased ‘Sweet Ever After’, watching John’s funeral on Zoom from his room in Kabul. Brisbane folk singer Ian Dearden, a long-time friend and associate, wrote ‘Song for John’ which can be found on Bandcamp.

I like to remember John Thompson as he was – a warm fellow with a brilliant mind, feverish sense of humour, a grand voice, clever writer, sometimes impatient but always with good intentions.

It’s so hard to refer to him in the past tense.

Overnight by ferry to Tasmania

As we were queuing to board the car ferry, Spirit of Tasmania, I couldn’t help thinking about a few folk songs that commemorate ferry tragedies of the past 150 years or so. If that seems neurotic, bear with me.

We booked our car and caravan on the ferry in November, probably the last opportunity to book a return ticket for March/April 2022. At the time, we had no clear indication we’d be able to go, pending the Covid state of play at the time. We knew that had the trip been cancelled/postponed, we’d be able to redeem the booking at a later time.

She Who Hitchhiked Around Tassie in 1967 has now been to various parts of the island state three times. My one and only flirtation with Tasmania was a trip to the Longford Folk Festival in 1981. I’d won a song-writing competition with a tune about the Russian invasion of Afghanistan. I got there via an overnight bus from Brisbane to Melbourne and a cheap stand-by flight to Launceston.

Apart from spending a few hours walking around Launceston while waiting for a flight to Brisbane (no more 36-hour bus rides for me), that was my total exposure to Tasmania.

In March 2022, I’m looking forward to the next 18 days touring around. But first I had to suppress the emerging panic attack in our cabin once the ship’s engines kicked in. The goal was to overcome anxiety and reignite my love affair with the sea.

My first experience at sea was a big one – a six-week voyage from Tilbury docks in London to Wellington New Zealand in 1955. I was six going on seven and dogged in my determination to avoid being confined to the ship’s nursery. I was eventually released into Dad’s care on the condition that I was not allowed to wander around the ship unsupervised.

Dad and I shared a two-berth cabin, while Mum and the girls were in another cabin downstairs. I seem to recall being taken up on deck by my sisters while Mum and Dad ‘spent time together’ in our cabin.

I got the travel bug as an adult, starting with a trip to Europe in the 1970s – a combination of a sea cruise and international flight. We sailed on a small Greek ship popular with backpackers for its cheap fares. The route was Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, Fremantle and Singapore where we stayed a couple of nights and then caught a flight to Athens.

My memories of that trip include observing crew members patrolling the ship armed with rifles as we navigated the hundreds of Indonesian islands between Fremantle and Singapore. Pirates ruled those waters then, as they still do today. Sailing adventures in the 1970s included an overnight crossing to Crete on an old, overcrowded ferry which segregated men on one side and women on the other. I still have no clue what that was about. Over the years, I have sailed on a variety of ferries – a mix of adventures and misadventures, including Dover to Calais before the Chunnel (seasick).

I’ve crossed Cook Strait between Wellington and Picton a few times and it is always turbulent to one degree or another. Kiwis who are old enough to remember would not forget that stormy night in 1968 when the inter-island ferry, The Wahine, capsized in Wellington Harbour with the loss of 157 lives. I was 20 at the time and itchy to travel. But I found that tragedy very sobering and it quite often influenced whether or not I boarded a dodgy ferry in the Mediterranean.

The main reason we remember maritime tragedies is the folk songs that have been written about them (Gordon Lightfoot’s Wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald for starters). The late Roy Bailey wrote one about the Herald of Free Enterprise, a vehicle ferry which capsized and sank in Zeebrugge Harbour in Belgium with the loss of 193 lives. The tragedy on March 6, 1987 occurred not long after the ship sailed. An inquiry found that the main reason for the accident was the bow doors of the roll-on roll-off ferry were not raised before it sailed.

New Zealand folksinger Anna Leah had a minor hit in 1968 with her song about the Wahine, still New Zealand’s worst maritime disaster. The Wahine capsized close to shore, but the storm was so ferocious rescue efforts were greatly hampered.

Last year, I wrote a folk ballad about the 1896 sinking of the Brisbane cross-river ferry, The Pearl. It’s a tragic but true story.

Maritime tragedies linger in our memory because of the media attention (always dredged up again at 10, 20 and 50-year intervals). There have been far worse ferry tragedies in Asian and African countries, with a far greater loss of life. Some of these accidents involved collisions and fires. Some claimed 1000 lives and more, largely because of overcrowding. But our insular media rarely report these tragedies, (unless there was an unlucky Australian on board).

Despite my experiences as a sailor, I was in some trepidation about the Tasmanian ferry until I did some research on the Spirit of Tasmania.

The latest Spirit of Tasmania, launched in 2002, is the third ship to carry the name since the Melbourne to Devonport voyage was established in 1985. There are plans to replace these vessels in 2023-2024 with even larger ships (bearing the same name, as is the tradition). These vessels (also built in Finland) will each carry 1800 passengers.

The Spirit of Tasmania sailed late, at 11.30. We found the bar for the obligatory rum and coke (and a lime and soda for Bob) and then retired for the night.

After turning out the cabin light and settling in, I did a few ‘this is just a passing thought’ exercises to quell the anxieties and then slept fitfully. At some point I woke and the ferry was barging its way through heavy seas and rolling a little. But by first light we had entered calmer waters.

The previous evening when I watched the ferry cruising into Station Pier at the Port of Melbourne, I realised that this vessel is larger than the Rangitiki, the ship we sailed on from Tilbury (UK) to Wellington, New Zealand in 1955.

The Spirit of Tasmania (there are two of them) were manufactured in Finland. They have bars, restaurants and cinemas and a range of cabins for all budgets. The process of embarking and disembarking was very thorough (Tasmania has strict quarantine rules and the company has rules about what can and can’t be taken on board).

My only complaint was a lack of facilities (toilets) for those queued for hours in their vehicles. I told She Who Hitched Around Tassie in 1967 I had a great business idea for some enterprising young person. who in ScoMo parlance wants to become a Lifter rather than a Leaner. The Comfort Station operator would cruise up and down the queues of vehicles on a bicycle towing a two-wheeled cart loaded with sterilised urine containers. (Comfort Station would also offer containers not unlike those provided to female soldiers when they are out on jungle patrols – Ed: they are called Shewee). The cart operator would make the return trip down the other side of the queued vehicles (collecting full bottles and tips).

If you have seen that Mel Brooks movie, The History of the World Part 1, where the servant follows the King around with a gold bucket, you will get the picture.

Music festivals and footie finals

music-festivals-grand-finals — Night shot of the Neurum Creek Festival marquee

Some of our musician friends in Melbourne and Sydney have ‘festival envy’, akin to the mixed emotions felt by southern footie fans who will miss out on this year’s grand finals.

As you might know, the National Rugby League (NRL) moved all teams across the border into Queensland. As a result of ongoing Covid lockdowns in Victoria and New South Wales, this year’s Grand Final will be held in Brisbane for the first time ever. Likewise, the Aussie Rules Grand Final has been moved from Melbourne to Western Australia.

As for those southern musicians, most if not all of their live music events have been cancelled or postponed. For people who combine day jobs (also affected by lockdowns), with weekend gigs, these are very hard times. It’s been harder still for those who do earn a living from music and persevere with touring plans and CD launches, only to see them curtailed by lockdowns.

So we can consider ourselves blessed to have performed at one of the few music festivals to go ahead in Australia last weekend at Neurum Creek bush retreat near Woodford (see image above).

The Neurum Creek Music Festival is in its 15^th year, not counting a cancellation in 2020. It’s a medium-sized festival held outdoors (a camping weekend). The organisers hire one very large marquee with associated infrastructure for a bar and a ‘green room’ for performers. It is a minimalist event – numbers are capped at 1,000 and most of the work is done by volunteers. There were three food stalls this year and a hugely popular coffee van. The festival is billed as an ‘acoustic music’ festival,(ie no heavy drum kits or electronica, thankfully. Ed) with 23 acts performing from Friday evening through to Sunday afternoon.

Organisers Angela Kitzelman and Don Jarmey kept a daily watch on Covid developments in Queensland while planning the 2021 event.

“We sat down and assessed the risk.” Angela said. “It’s a very relaxed festival that we run and the money that we spend on it goes mainly to performers, for the marquee costs and the sound guys.

“It was looking at how much we spend and also looking at the situation in Queensland and what the health directions were.

“At the time we decided to go ahead with it, there had been a lockdown. We came out and talked to the camp site managers. They told us that in the event of a Covid lockdown cancellation, people who had booked tickets could get a full credit to do it at another time.

“We realised we could afford to do this at half capacity, as it was at the time, and be very clear that we would pick (the festival) up and put it on another date if something happened.”

After looking carefully at their finances, the organisers decided to press the ‘go’ button, without the usual lead time to host music festivals.

“We invite people to play and say this is how much we can afford to pay.

“We didn’t have enough time to invite expressions of interest so we just asked people who had played here before, abiding by our rule that performers don’t get to play two years in a row.”

“Our advantage is that people come for the festival itself. We don’t have headline performers. We often sell out before I’ve finished finalising the programme. People come here for the experience.”

While Queensland has been able to avoid ongoing lockdowns, some music festivals have been cancelled or postponed regardless. Last month, Woodfordia announced the cancellation of its six-day Woodford Folk Festival, held at New Year. Instead, the organisation will schedule smaller events called Bushtime.

The Byron Bay Blues Festival, which was cancelled just one day out from the Easter 2021 programme, has been postponed again to April 2022. The National Folk Festival, held in Canberra at Easter, has called for expressions of interest for 2022, a move which surprised many, as it was cancelled in 2020 and 2021.

Illawarra Folk Festival artistic director David De Santi took to Facebook this week to announce the cancellation of the music festival set down for 13-16 January, 2022.

“It is just too hard in the current climate for a non-profit association to take the risk on a festival of the scale of the Illawarra Folk Festival,” he said.

Mr De Santi said there was a chance the festival may be able to apply for a grant from the Federal Government’s RISE Fund and reschedule later in 2022.

Despite these and many other cancellations, two smaller music festivals are going ahead in north Queensland next month. Smaller social gatherings where musicians gather to jam have been held or are set down for later in the year. Woodfordia is also staging its Small Halls tour around Queensland country areas.

Professional arts groups including theatre, ballet, opera and orchestral companies have also suffered from lockdowns and Covid restrictions. Some Queensland arts events have since gone ahead, including ballet, theatre, musicals and the Brisbane Festival. Even so, this press release from Queensland Ballet is just one example of how arts companies have struggled to stage shows since Covid started in March 2020.

Queensland Ballet artistic director Li Cunxin took the decision in May 2020 to postpone the season to 2021. Despite forecasting a 43% drop in revenue for 2020 and a drop in patronage for 2021, Queensland Ballet resumed performances in 2021. As subscribers, we were lucky to have seats for sold out performances of the 60^th Anniversary Gala in March and Sleeping Beauty in June. The company also toured the regions (Tutus on Tour). and has five more ballets scheduled between now and the end of the year.

Government funding is available to support the arts, but it is relatively lean compared to the money invested in professional sport. The Federal Government’s $50 million Arts Sustainability Fund might sound generous, but it is spread over two financial years (about $2m a month). Then there is the hard-to-fathom RISE grant program. This post in The Conversation last September tosses it into the too-little-too-late basket.

For the professional sports sector, it has been mostly ‘business as usual’, although at a considerable financial cost. The NRL decided in early July to move NSW and ACT-based rugby league teams and staff into Queensland at a reported cost of $12m to $15m per month. The NRL funded the move, but it needed formal State Government permission to make it work.

As usual, money talks. It comes down to billion of dollars in sponsorship deals, international broadcast rights, betting agencies and other contractual obligations (not the least of which involves players’ salaries).

The NRL decided to relocate when there were eights weeks of the competition left to run (not including the finals). Now, primarily because of the Covid situation in NSW, the finals are being held in Queensland as well. So by the time the NRL wraps up the season in early October, the cost of what was meant to be a month-long trial may have blown out to $45 million or more.

The good news for Queensland is that local hospitality businesses have benefited from this, with more than 500 people living in hotels and serviced apartments for three months.

The hospitality flows most on ‘Mad Monday’, when players who did not make the finals let their mullets down. Let’s hope that the relatively strong Covid bubble around these 13 visiting teams remains unbreached during coming weeks.

We only need to remember the infamous Illawarra Dragons barbecue debacle to realise what could happen amid the inevitable celebrations and drowning of sorrows that follow a grand final.

Go you Rabbitohs!

Long live the Green Man

john-thompson-grief — Green Man camphor laurel carving by Sarah-Jane Abbott (Facebook page Chisel & Bow). Reference to the song, Long Live the Green Man (John Thompson)*

Today we’ll be talking about death, grief and hypochondria (mine). So if any of those topics catch you at a bad moment, look away.

We lost two good friends last week and, to misquote Pink Floyd, we’re feeling uncomfortably numb.

Many FOMM readers would have either personally known or known of the renowned Australian folk-singer, John Thompson. John had been battling cancer for several years until his death last Wednesday, aged 56.

Mr Thompson packed a lot of achievements into five and a bit decades, including a career as a criminal barrister and later, as a folk-singer/comedian. He also worked in professional theatre as the Songman in the touring play, War Horse. In his last decade, John become known to the wider community for his services as a civil celebrant at weddings and funerals.

But what he was best known for was a splendid, wide-ranging tenor voice and a brilliant ear for harmony. He had spectacular skills as a presenter and comedian.

A Maleny musician friend reminded me of the time John handed him a postcard on which was written: “Folk music – it’s not as bad as it sounds”. That is a good example of the wit John could display on any given day but no more so than when performing as a duo with Martin Pearson. The last time I saw them regaling a crowd was at the National Folk Festival in 2019.

Though not officially on the festival bill, John was invited to participate in Pearson’s daily ‘brunch’. The hour of what seemed to be unscripted comedy was endearingly funny as the two old friends kept trying to have the last word.

We all knew how unwell he’d been and how much worse it would get. But John took every opportunity to wring music and love out of the situation. His was arguably the most publicly documented case of terminal bowel cancer. He would post detailed summaries of his treatment and reactions to it on Facebook. Hundreds of friends and friends of friends left messages of love and support. Late in the day, he posted a selfie from his last stay in hospital while doctors were adjusting his pain medication.

Before then, musician Steve Cook posted a message, ‘Thinking about my friend John’, which a few people construed to mean John had already passed. At one point John popped up among the ‘RIP’ comments with, “Me too”.

Maleny people would remember John from the numerous times we featured the band Cloudstreet at our home. John, his partner Nicole Murray and later band member Emma Nixon never failed to entertain and amuse.

John and Nicole stayed with us when they were recording Dance up the Sun at Pix Vane-Mason’s studio in Conondale. Laurel (aka She Who Edits, etc), asked John if there was anything he didn’t eat.

“Elephants,” said John.

Though we were from different generations, I valued John as a friend, mentor and musician. He was the first person to give me practical tips to warm up the body and the voice before performing. Everyone wanted a piece of John, but I was always happy just for him to know we were there.

Hard as this was, last Friday we got completely unexpected news of a dear friend who died suddenly. Rob (Oss) Simcocks was a Stanthorpe district identity, known for his work with the rural fire brigade, the local pipe band and a long association with the bluegrass group, The Bald Rock Mountain Boys. In his last few years, Oss formed a new band, Too Much Fun and they were all of that and more. Long-time friend Mr Shiraz described Oss on Facebook as a ‘ bush polymath’ because of a string of interests and achievements including building his own home in the bush, working on landcare projects, gardening, viticulture, pottery, blacksmithing and making large iron sculptures.

He learned some piano when he was young and was taught bagpipes in high school at Scots College, Warwick. He also taught himself to play many instruments including banjo, mandolin, guitar, clarinet and spoons. He often found a way to turn various household items into music. His wife Teri tells me he once even ‘played’ an electric fan.

Oss was an artist. He painted, created found object sculptures, exhibited his works and in recent years wrote songs, poetry and short stories. He was an irrepressible gardener and almost always sent visitors home with a plant.

Curiously, these two sad events happened in the same week I received a communique from a local council in Scotland. I had inquired as to the state and status of our family burial ‘lair’.

In Scotland, the tradition is that a family owns a burial plot in perpetuity and it is passed on to the eldest son.

My father’s parents and his two younger sisters are interred in this lair. Dad’s parents died in the mid-1930s of bowel cancer and his young sisters died earlier still of scarlet fever. The plot, marked by an 86 year old sandstone tablet, is in the old part of a cemetery in a small coastal village. The Angus Council referred me to a local stonemason who quoted $800 to clean the headstone and re-letter it. Grandad Wilson was himself a stonemason, so there is some irony there.

There is some hide-bound Scottish tradition in play here that puts the onus on the eldest son (me) to do something about it.

These are four people I never knew and Dad’s ashes have since 1991 resided in a crematorium wall in Hastings, New Zealand. What I will more likely do is spend the money refurbishing Mum’s plaque, next to Dad. Mum died of cancer in 1966, so the lettering has faded.

But, as I wrestle with this, and feelings of grief over my friends Oss (met him in 1978) and the honourable Mr Thompson (early 1990s), there is a more pressing matter.

I did say at the outset I would write about hypochondria. It is 90% certain that sporadic palpitations which come upon me for no rhyme or reason, are likely to be psychosomatic (Ed: though no less serious).

Nevertheless, the GP has checked me out (normal) but because this happened once before (also normal), he referred me to a specialist.

Apparently I have to wear something akin to a bra for 24 hours. The chart will then go to a cardiac specialist who will review the result and report back.

At times like these one should drag out a Cloudstreet CD and play life-affirming songs like Thousands or More, Time is a Tempest or John’s quirky song, the Homeless Beaver. This three-minute parody of the sea shanty Drunken Sailor, necessitated a three or four minute droll introduction about Idaho Fish and Game employee Elmo Heter and his efforts to re-home a colony of 76 beavers. (They ended up putting them in self-opening cages and parachuting them into their new location). True story.

Meanwhile, I’m using my ‘idle’ palpitations as an excuse to avoid mowing, gardening, housework lifting or anything more strenuous than sitting here reflecting on mortality.

Yours and mine.

A private family funeral was held for John Thompson earlier today. It was live streamed and can be viewed via this link at a later stage.

https://mailchi.mp/42d987343acc/vale-john-thompson-online-funeral-link/

A public memorial will be held in April.

Ten songs that influenced teenage me

ten-songs-influenced — Image (and research): Wikipedia

Most of my musician friends spend time on Facebook, so that’s why I probably saw so many of those ‘10 albums which influenced your musical tastes’ challenges. It is no surprise this diversion has become popular in the uncertain time of COVID-19 because it allowed us to yearn, just a little, for those carefree days when music helped shape our lives.

You can tell how much the ‘challenge’ means, as so many participants cannot leave it at 10. Ah, the warm feeling of remembering a relationship that budded and flowered, just as Cat Stevens released Tea for the Tillerman. Maybe you’d met a brown-eyed girl (called Rhonda); perhaps you lived in a town without pity. Or it really got you when Ray Davies wrote, ‘I’m not like everybody else’.

I walked in to the ‘challenge’ by posting an ironic observation that nobody had nominated me to do anything, My record producer friend Pix Vane-Mason popped up, asking about the music that influenced my teenage years.

It didn’t take long for me to break the rules and make my own mini-FOMM, with explanations and reviews (most just post album covers on 10 successive days, with no comment at all). A few people who saw the first entry were surprised to find I was a pre-pubescent jazz head. No 1 was Carmen McRae’s version of Dave Brubeck’s ‘Take Five’. The song version of Brubeck’s famous jazz instrumental (in 5/4 time) came out in late 1961, when I was about to turn 13. I’d not heard the original instrumental version (1958), but this set me off on an exploration of modern jazz.

In 1962, pop music began to intrude, starting with Cliff Richard’s ‘The Young Ones’ in 1961. In 1962, I quickly became impressed with Cliff’s backing band, The Shadows. Original and distinctive tunes like ‘Apache’ and ‘Flingle Bunt’ can still be heard on the radio today. Check out this 2017 version of the No 1 hit ‘Apache’ (1960) when Hank Marvin and the original members reunited for one final tour.

(There’s a prize for the first one to tell me which politician they think the drummer resembles. Ed)

In 1963, the fickle fifteen year old was torn between folk (there was a folk club in town) and the peer pressure to go with those brash young pop/rock groups from the UK. This was the year The Beatles penetrated the Kiwi consciousness.

I liked the two covers the Beatles did early on (A Taste of Honey and Till There was You) which hinted at the musicality to come. But the music I remember most from that year was a collection of trad folk songs by an extraordinary singer, Odetta. It was a hit record in NZ.

An incredibly eclectic mix of music came through the AM radio in 1964. The Beatles dominated the charts – five songs in the top 20 including numbers 1 and 2, and nine in the top 100. But they had to share Billboard’s top 10 with Louie Armstrong (Hello Dolly), Roy Orbison (Pretty Woman), the Beach Boys (I get Around) and Dean Martin (Everybody Loves Somebody). I really liked vocal harmonies so the Beach Boys almost always got my vote. But the jazz influence was still there, so even though it seems cheesy now, Stan Getz’s collaboration with Brazilian singer Astrid Gilberto, was, as Danny R said on FB, perhaps our first taste of ‘world music’.

Difficult as it was to pluck one song from the plethora of hits in 1965, I could not go past ‘Rescue Me’ by Fontella Bass. It was released a few months shy of my 17th birthday. I bought the record and played it to death. Nothing wrong with a good old fashioned teenage crush, eh! This was the year that brought us ‘King of the Road’, ‘I Can’t Help Myself’, ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’, ‘Downtown’, ‘Help’ and ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling’, so there was a lot of competition.

(Rescue Me)

Aretha Franklin is sometimes mistakenly credited with this song, which was written by record producers Carl Smith and Raynard Miner (Bass claimed she co-wrote the song but was never credited). The other song that grabbed me in1965 was ‘I Got You Babe’ by Sonny and Cher (Cher also recorded ‘Rescue Me’ in 1974). What was that I said about teenage crushes!

Gordon Lightfoot’s ‘Early Morning Rain’ was a hit for folk trio Peter Paul and Mary in 1965. A version by George Hamilton IV made No 9 on the country charts in 1966. This was the year Simon and Garfunkel emerged, suitcase and guitar in hand, also a beautiful song full of imagery (Elusive Butterfly of Love). But this was also the year of ‘Doobie Doobie Doo’ (say no more) and the Monkees, a manufactured band provided with catchy hits by a then-unknown Neil Diamond. For all that, folk/country music was starting to penetrate the pop charts courtesy of artists like Dylan, PP&M and Gordon Lightfoot. ‘Early Morning Rain’ covers prevailed for decades, including Elvis Presley, Bob Dylan, Jerry Lee Lewis, Eva Cassidy and Australia’s Wendy Matthews, A great song is always just that, no matter the genre.

No 9 & 10 in music that influenced me as a teenager makes a reference to J.S Bach. I was raised in a household where classical music was always in the background. Mum played the piano and organ, so naturally enough, the Bach-inspired introductions to hit songs in 1967 (the year I turned 19), pressed all of the right buttons. The late Ray Manzarek, keyboard player with The Doors candidly spoke about the inspiration for the intro to ‘Light my Fire’, Bach’s Invention No. 8, BWV 779. Many piano players who ended up in rock bands had a classical background. So when the organ intro from Procol Harem’s No 1 hit ‘Whiter shade of Pale’ first emerged from the AM radios we owned in those days, the similarity between that and Bach’s Air on the G String was immediately identified. Matthew Fisher’s Hammond organ intro eased the way for Gary Brooker’s distinctive vocals and a global hit was born. Jim Morrison’s smoky vocals on ‘Light My Fire’ emerged from Ray Manzarek’s attacking organ intro.

Later, in my 20s, the classical/jazz influence continued with a love of 70s bands like Blood Sweat and Tears, Genesis, Sky, The Nice, the Moody Blues and Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

While Joni Mitchell’s songs (Both Sides Now and the Circle Game) were hits for Judy Collins and Buffy Saint- Marie in 1967, Joni’s first album did not appear until 1968 (when I turned 20). Little did we know, 19 albums later, what an incredible influence she would be for anyone with a keen sense of music, poetry and art.

My bad – I forgot to mention ‘Friday on My Mind’ (The Easybeats, 1966), selected as one of the best songs of the last 1,000 years by Richard Thompson, Here’s RT’s version.

In the Facebook posts I also neglected to mention a key influence on my songwriting, Ray Davies of The Kinks. Those well-crafted songs (e,g, ‘Sunny Afternoon’, ‘Dead End Street’, ‘Lola’ and ‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’), stitched sardonic social comment into a fabric of catchy and rhythmic tunes. His songs lived on in my lizard brain until I picked up a guitar aged 27 and discovered the circle of fifths, just like Ray!

Morris Dancing And Other Cancelled Events

morris-dancing-cancelled events — Image of Morris dancers at Mt Coot-tha (2019) by Mary Brettell

Most of us have one social activity we love to share with like-minded people, be it Morris dancing, concerts, plays, ballet, rodeos, stock car racing, cricket, playing or watching football (all codes) or participating in surfing carnivals or golf tournaments.

Perhaps camp drafting is your thing (nothing happening here); there are no country shows or rodeos and the list of cancelled music events and festivals goes on for pages.

Even if your interest is excentrique (a dozen friends gathering for dinner and Chateau de Chazelles while trying to speak French for two hours), COVID-19 restrictions have put paid to it.

I might just add, before developing the theme, I’m puzzled why the horse racing industry has not come under much scrutiny for its lack of attention to social distancing. Horse racing, trots and even greyhound racing have continued without disruption throughout COVID-19. Sure, there are no crowds in attendance, but just envisage a typical blanket finish in a horse race: a nose, a neck and half a head. Pity the poor jockeys at the back; copping all that flying sweat, saliva and horse drool. That’s not social distancing, folks. As animal rights group PETA rightly observes, “staff members at a typical race meeting include trainers, jockeys, vets, strappers, farriers, stewards, handlers, and stable and kennel staff. “They’re required to be in close proximity, and many travel considerable distances to attend.” (Nothing to do with gambling revenue, of course. Ed)

But as we were saying about cancelled events, Queensland’s Morris dancers called off today’s traditional May Day event.

Every year on May 1, dancers gather on hilltops at dawn to welcome the sun. Morris dancing is a 14^th century English tradition which lives on, not only in the UK, but in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the US.

This was the topic of my first FOMM, six years ago. It was an eye-witness account of pre-dawn shenanigans atop Brisbane’s best-known spot to view the city. It was cold, dark and showery, but nothing could extinguish the enthusiasm of musicians and dancers and their loyal followers.

Morris dancers clash sticks and bump bellies, symbolising the battle between the seasons. Morris men often wear hats with flowers, and “tatter coats” and many paint their faces. Dancers use either garlands of flowers or hankies for the gentle dances. But there are as many variations in dress and dance style as there are Morris ‘sides’ or teams.

Brisbane Morris musician and dancer Nicole Murray told FOMM that local dancers would not be congregating at Mt Coot-tha this year, the first no-show for at least 40 years.

“But we are marking the occasion,” she said. “Emma (Nixon) and I recorded a version of Princess Royal (a traditional dancer tune). Everyone is dancing a jig at dawn and filming it. The aim is to do a stitched-together video. I hope that will be the outcome, anyway.”

Amongst other things, COVID-19 has postponed attempts by those who aspire to topple world records for mass participations. World records of this nature are many and varied – mass gatherings of Peruvian folk dancers, people wearing Akubra-style hats, Elvis impersonators, people dressed as Harry Potter, the longest River Dance line – the list goes on.

In 2018, the Potty Morris and Folk Festival set the record for the largest Morris dance in Sheringham (UK) with 369 dancers (33 Morris sides).

(Ed: Bob reels about clutching his head screaming ‘the bells, the bells”)

Nicole Murray’s partner John Thompson penned a song a few years ago which starts: “Dance up the sun on a fine May morning, dance up to sun to call in the Spring…” and traces the English tradition that spawned this annual event. The ritual insists that if Morris dancers don’t dance up the sun, it will never rise again.

May Day also commemorates those who struggled to win the right to fair pay and an eight-hour day. Perhaps that is one reason British Morris dancers arced up last year when the UK government arbitrarily decided to shift the date of the May long weekend (in 2020).

Meanwhile back home, a survey showed that Australians are anxious, bored and lonely as a result of the COVID-19 restrictions.

This may not apply so much to the over-65 cohort, many of whom will tell you they routinely experience anxiety, boredom and loneliness. For example, the highlight of my week was queuing up at 7.15am for my annual flu shot, along with 150 others over-65s. (We stayed at least three walkers apart).

Freedom of movement restrictions are sending some people a bit bonkers. Look how much trouble these rugby league players are in, not only breaking curfew but sharing their co-mingling activities on social media.

Young people are finding self-isolation and social restrictions tough. I offer as evidence the chart that shows more women aged 20-29 have been infected with COVID-19 than any other age group.

We have noticed, on our evening strolls along the river with the dog, increasing numbers of runners, seemingly out for more than routine exercise. Most people whizz by at one or two metres with a cheery “G’day”. Some give us a wide berth, occasionally muttering “1.5 metres mate.” A solitary young man can be seen repeatedly whacking a hockey ball into the net, not missing very often. One can only guess, in these uncertain times, at the level of frustration felt by people who enjoy team sports of any kind.

Even though I have been a rugby league fan for some 40 years, I disagree with the National Rugby League’s decision to restart the professional season in late May. It is irresponsible, fraught with risk and seems to be done for the sake of TV rights, betting agencies, and advertising contracts (not forgetting contractual obligations with players and coaches).

As is often demonstrated, the NRL cannot control what goes on in the lives of young athletes with high disposable incomes. What’s worse is the sense of entitlement the season re-launch implies. It may not be so well known that all amateur and semi-professional footballers (and netball players), were stood down in March. There are no signs at all of those competitions resuming any time soon.

We all may deeply resent the forced curtailment of our chosen sport/hobby/social activity. But it is being done for noble reasons, demonstrated every day with a notable drop-off in new COVID-19 cases. This weekend will be the first big test (in Queensland), as some restrictions are eased. For our part, we may visit Queen Mary Falls, located in a national park some 40 kms from home, just inside the 50km maximum travel allowance. As it’s in a national park, the dog will have to say home. He won’t like it, but rules are rules, eh?

As for the Morris no-show, several people who follow the tradition suggested Morris folk dance in their own driveways, just like on Anzac Day. Accordion and bells at 5am, LOL!

Here’s Nicole’s Murray’s song, Let Winter Begin, about that very magical moment from a southern hemisphere perspective.Let Winter Begin

Is vinyl just a fad?

The first reference that came up when I searched ‘vinyl fad’ was an advertisement for high waist stretch vinyl leggings (only $15.60 from boo-hoo Aus.). That’s not a plug, you understand, just an observation on the randomness of internet searches.

Vinyl records, or LPs as they were known in my youth, have indeed made a comeback, after being superseded by compact discs (CDs) some 30 years ago. In the US, where such trends usually start and end, 9.7 million vinyl LPs were sold in 2018. This was a 12% increase on the 8.6 million copies sold in 2017.

In Australia, 860,000 vinyl albums were sold in 2018, up from 717,000 in 2017. The revival began in 2015 with a modest 314,000 copies sold.

Demand for new music on vinyl is such that last year Sony started manufacturing vinyl albums in Japan. Australia’s only pressing plant, Zenith Records, will be joined by a new pressing plant competitor, Program Records.

Vinyl seems destined, however, to remain a small-scale, boutique business compared with the growth of music streaming. ARIA (the Australian Recording Industry Association) said music streaming (wholesale) revenue continued its explosive growth pattern in 2018. It now accounts for 71.4% of the overall market by value amid annual growth of 41.2%.

The streaming category includes revenues from subscription services (Apple Music, Deezer, Google Play,Spotify etc) and on-demand streaming services such as YouTube and Vevo.

The compact disc format continued its gradual decline, securing 10% of music market revenue with just $53.17 million in sales.

By comparison, streaming services and digital downloads earned $445 million in combined sales.

Vinyl sales grew from $15.79 million in 2015 to $21.73 million last year, robust enough sales to keep the industry interested.

Yamaha Music USA’s Ted Goslin says the return of the vinyl LP is being drive by the under-25s hipsters. “Visit your local record store”, Goslin writes, “Chances are you’ll spot a man bun, a flannel shirt or some other identifiable accoutrement of this popular sub-culture.”

Collectors are also driving the renaissance of vinyl, constantly scanning second hand shops for a rare gem to add to their collections. The other demographic adopting vinyl as a serious hobby are people in their 30s and 40s, who can probably afford the high quality speakers, amps and turntables it takes to make vinyl sound good.

This topic came to mind after I retrieved 200+ vinyl albums from the bottom of the linen cupboard, where they have been for 17 years, and packed them into three plastic milk crates. As some of you may know, we are packing up and moving on. Expect a flurry of stories in coming weeks about packing too soon (“Honey, where’s the can opener?”), decluttering and when does sentiment outweigh practicality.

The most sought after vinyl albums are usually in mint condition (rarely or never played) and of course everyone wants 0000001 of the Beatles White Album, sold at auction recently for $790,000.

Over the years, I have had occasion to liberate an album from the linen cupboard and give it a spin. I once went through a whole week of listening to vinyl and nothing else. It’s true what they say – the sound is mellower, easier on the ears than the compressed attack of digital audio. But you have to sit down and actively listen and not have it on in the background like a café mix.

There’s a quiet hiss and an occasional crackle as we listen to the likes of the Moody Blues, Blood Sweat and Tears or Joni. Sonic heaven.

But it’s a pain getting up to flip the album over, isn’t it?

If you have looked after your records, it seems not to matter if they’ve been in a cupboard for 20 years. They will play like it was Yesterday or Tomorrow (Never Knows). There’s a certain level of frustration now, as I sift through these albums, having packed the record player away.

The other attraction of vinyl albums is the elaborate cover artwork that helps make LPs more collectable. Obvious examples include Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (a pre Photo Shop montage); Blind Faith’s bare-breasted teen holding a model aeroplane (it was banned in some countries) and Nirvana’s Nevermind, a baby in a swimming pool seemingly chasing a dollar bill.

There were also some stunning Pink Floyd covers by design company Hipgnosis; a man bursting into flames, hospital beds on a beach, a shaft of white light passing through a prism to become a rainbow.

So when I was asked was it really necessary to keep the vinyl collection, I had to say yes. It is an important connection to my youth and early songwriting influences and yes, I do listen.

The LP (long player) collection is quite eclectic and includes a lot of jazz and blues (my earliest influence until I discovered The Shadows). I have discovered that my niece and her husband are not just vinyl converts, they love jazz. So I have promised to give them my jazz albums, which include five recordings by the Dave Brubeck Quartet (note to executor).

The collection includes a lot of folk albums that I purchased for small amounts of cash at a time when record shops were having sales to get rid of surplus stock before CDs arrived. I would not dream of getting rid of such gems as albums by Kath Tait, the McGarrigle Sisters, Silly Sisters, Martin Carthy, Bert Jansch, Van Morrison, Maddy Prior, The Pogues and Christy Moore.

Meanwhile, I discovered that banana boxes from our friendly IGA were perfect for packing CDs. Just fill in the small spaces with paper or bubble wrap, put the lid on and tape it up with ‘FRAGILE” writ large on the box. So far I’ve filled five of these boxes. Not to mention the four boxes of unsold stock from our recording ventures.

Much has been written about the decline of the CD, signs of which have become obvious. Few laptops now come with a built-in CD/DVD reader/player. Likewise, many modern cars don’t have CD players. As far as I can tell, the new medium for the average music listener is a Google app, Bluetooth, a smart phone and a subscription to a streaming service.

My brother-in-law has a Google Play speaker in his lounge room – hours of endless fun. As I have previously observed, the app struggles with different voices and often chooses the wrong song:

Bob: “OK Google, play The Goodwills.”

Google: “Alright. Here’s DJ Goodwill from YouTube Channel”

Bob: “Stop, Google. Play T.H.E. Goodwills”

This time it works and, because all of Google’s music is drawn from its subsidiary, YouTube, we hear one of our songs used as a soundtrack for a six-minute video. It’s confusing.

I ask Ms Google to play ‘Silhouettes’ and once again she turns up a more recent song of the same name (by Avicii).

Bob: “No, no, Google. Play Silhouettes by The Rays”

Ms Google: “Alright alright! Playing creepy voyeur stalker song Silhouettes by The Rays.”

Bob: “What! Are you developing independent thinking now, like Hal from 2001 a Space Odyssey? Also, you need to learn how to use commas.”

Ms Google: “Look Bob, I can see you’re really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over”.

Further reading: Some technical opinions of interest only to audiophiles.

FOMM back pages – https://bobwords.com.au/planned-obsolescence-strikes-again/

The back roads to Canberra and musical reunions

canberra-musical-reunions — The Fagans – a musical reunion (L-R) Bob Fagan, Nancy Kerr, Margaret, Kate and James Fagan

When we planned a 2,500 kms round trip to the National Folk Festival via the back roads to Canberra, it seemed like a monumental expedition. Now that we’re home again (via Dubbo and Goondiwindi), it seems a weak effort compared to the distances travelled by overseas guests including Manran (Scotland), Nancy Kerr and James Fagan (UK), April Verch (US), George Jackson (US) and Vila Navio (Portugal).

For example, George Jackson committed himself to a 35,000 km round-trip, flying with his two other band members direct from Nashville to LA (3,218 kms). From there, they flew to Sydney (12,065 kms) then by road to Canberra (286 kms). After arriving in the late afternoon, there was barely time to eat and rest before the first gig at 11pm on Saturday night. Such is the peripatetic life of a professional bluegrass musician.

While the musicians involved in more than 120 acts were wending their way to Canberra, we chose mostly secondary roads, including an excursion through the verdant Bylong Valley in New South Wales between Denman and Bathurst.

At times I wondered if we would get there. We were towing a caravan, albeit a small one. The winding mountain road on either side of the Bylong Valley was particularly challenging. There were hairpin bends, one way bridges, narrow sections where two cars scarcely had room to pass by. Not to mention frequent signs warning of fallen rocks (and we did see a few on the sides of the road).

My main mission at the five-day National Folk Festival was to catch every concert by the fabled Australian family band, The Fagans, re-uniting for the first time in three years. Bob and Margaret Fagan and their adult children James and Kate are these days joined on stage by James’s partner Nancy Kerr. James and Nancy live in the UK, where Nancy has established a strong solo career. It reached a high point in 2015 when she was judged BBC Folk Singer of the Year.

I caught up with James for a chat and started by commenting that his guitarist Dad (Bob) gets a real charge out of playing opposite his adult son (who plays bouzouki)

“Yes it is quite obvious, isn’t it? He revels in it. I wouldn’t say the music is secondary, but looking across the stage and seeing Margaret and then his two kids singing in harmony, it still visibly moves him and he talks about it openly.

“When we were children we just wanted to be doing a slick and professional show. But as I’ve got older and I’ve got children I completely understand that there are some things more important than being professional. It’s still very valued in the folk world – being yourself and being true to your story.”

That elusive musical quality emerged when the Fagans employed four-part acapella singing. Their stirring version of Alex Glasgow’s Close the Coal House Door and its third verse about the Aberfan colliery disaster raised ‘goosebumps’. The refrain “Close the coal house door, lads, there’s bairns inside” references the 1966 disaster in Aberfan, Wales, when a colliery slag heap collapsed on a school, killing 114 children and adults.

Folk songs often tell real stories and some don’t pull punches, like British leftie songwriter Leon Rosselson’s hard-hitting The World Turned Upside Down. The song tells the story of The Diggers, a ragtag group of latter-day socialists who in 1649, after the execution of Charles I, occupied the land at St George’s Hill in Surrey. They believed that the land could now be used to establish collaborative farming communities. It is supremely ironic that today, St George’s Hill is an enclave of the super-rich; lavish mansions and acreage estates owned by Russian oligarchs, TV personalities, film stars and rock musicians, not to mention the landed gentry.

You might know the song through the 1984 version by Billy Bragg, but my preference is the Fagans singing this socialist anthem in four-part harmony.

James and his sister Kate started performing with their parents in the late 1980s while in their early teens. From performances at Sydney folk clubs, they graduated to the Maleny Folk Festival (before it grew too big and went to Woodford). James had just left high school when the group recorded their first album, ‘Common Treasury’, in 1991.

Some 28 years later, James and Nancy and their two children travelled 10, 662kms from Sheffield in the UK to the Blue Mountains. Not to mention a 600 kms round trip from the Blue Mountains to Canberra.

Yes, the trip was worth it; a family reunion, a musical reunion and time for Bob and Margaret to spend time with their grandsons Harry and Hamish. The latter appear to be following the family tradition, sharing the stage with James and Nancy, to perform ‘Mr Weather’. Nancy said the children deserved to be there because “they totally gave me the idea for this song”.

James and Nancy recently recorded their first duo album in a decade, a live album, ‘An Evening with Nancy Kerr and James Fagan’.

“The time’s not been idly spent,” James said of the past 10 years. “The last (duo) album came out in 2010, a big departure for us, as it was all songs and tunes written by ourselves.

“At the same time that album emerged, so did our first child, Hamish, and that required us to give up the lifestyle of living on a narrow boat and being troubadours and river gypsies.

“It was a big life change. The children came along, we moved into a house, we formed a new band and started diversifying what we did so one of us could be home.”

James reckons he has been to the National Folk Festival at least 20 times and fondly recalls scoring his first professional solo gig there when he was just 18.

This was also the case for bluegrass fiddle player George Jackson, who also enjoyed this year’s festival as a family reunion. His parents made the journey from Alice Springs to attend the festival and spend time with him. Mind you, it’s hard to pin down a dedicated musician at a music festival – they are usually picking up extra gigs. For example, George and two other bluegrass musicians stepped up for a spontaneous gig with songwriter John Flanagan.

It might have seemed like a jam, but when musicians of this calibre get together, magic things happen.

There were other highlights among the 150+ acts at the NFF including Scottish band Manran and their Scottish Gaelic songs, the virtuosity of instrumental band Kittel & Co and their marriage of Celtic music, bluegrass and classical, and the innovation of original Portuguese band Vila Navio.

Rounding out this eclectic festival, I was fortunate to catch one of comedian Martin Pearson’s daily ‘Brunch’ sessions where he trades barbs with guests. Singer and debater John Thompson was the guest that day. They traded Catholic school day experiences at the hands of teachers like Pearson’s “Sister Genghis”.

Amid a hilarious skit “how to wash a cat” they were interrupted by a loud ‘ting’ as one of Canberra’s brand-new shiny red trams arrived nearby.

“It’s not a tram,” said Thompson, crossly. “Trams share the road with other traffic. This has its own dedicated track. Therefore it is not a tram, it is light rail.”

I asked John about this later and he emailed me yesterday.

“There is some disagreement online about this distinction.

All trams are light rail, but only light rail that features “street running” can be called trams.

“The Canberra light rail only has “street running” at a couple of corners – it’s not a tram!”

That’s the thing about folkies – they have strong opinions.

Tom, Dick, Harry and Paul

moither-duck-tom-dick-harry-paul — Photo by Paul Williams https://flic.kr/p/NFKTu

Brisbane songwriter Sue Wighton has a zany song about the daft names people give their children, with a droll chorus that starts: ‘Whatever happened to Tom, Dick and Harry?’ It’s a good question.

It would never have occurred to me as a song subject, but Sue is an ex-school teacher, so that explains a lot. She will have seen her share of exotic baby names like Joaquin, Griffin, Phoenix, Jasper, Peregrine and Fox. I’m only indulging myself with boy names here – as this essay progresses, the why will become obvious. If you are truly fascinated by the subject of unusual girl’s names, US website www.popsugar.com explores the A to Zee of names like Aria, Darby, Kaia, Marisol, Yani and Zaylee.

Yani’s not that unusual – I actually know one and if you like choir singing, you probably do too.

But as for the children of celebrities forced to wear names like Heavenly Harari, Pilot Inspektor or Sage Moonblood, some, on reaching adulthood, may apply to change their names to Fred Smith or Bob Wilson.

I thought about this (a while ago), when doing the crossword in the Sunshine Coast Daily, which just happens to be on the same page as Showbiz News. Somehow my eyes always drift to the top of the page. Here I learned that Kim Kardashian and husband Kanye West were going somewhere or other with their daughter North West (u-huh). The Kardashians have since spawned two more children, dubbed Saint and Chicago. They also have a Pomeranian named Sushi, although that is something of a non-sequitur.

It reminded me of that movie ‘Captain Fantastic’, about an anti-establishment chap and his wife who raise six children off-grid in the American wilderness and bestow upon them “unique” names like Bodevan, Gellian and Vespyr.

My childhood was blighted to a degree because the family moved to New Zealand, where my common enough Scottish middle name produced howls of laughter and derision. So yes, I empathise with people whose parents have dubbed them names which may provoke schoolyard bullying.

As Christian names go, Robert or Bob is common enough, though its use today is well below its peak in 1930, when matinee idols Robert Mitchum and Robert Taylor inspired those with child at the time.

Rankings of the top 50 boys’ names in Australia, are led by William, Jack and Oliver. Tom (6) is still in vogue and Harry (30) is still a popular choice of name for British babies, thanks to the next generation of Royal princes.

But Richard (Dick) wasn’t sighted, possibly because a generation of fathers called Richard took offence at their name being shortened to Dick and its sniggering variants.

Aussie parents don’t go too far out on a limb with baby-naming – Jayden, Braxton and Jaxon are the only ones that look odd to the eye. Religion still has some influence, apparently, with Matthew, Luke and Noah in the top 50. Mark, however, is missing, so too Saul and Paul.

You can always pick people whose parents hero-worshipped movie stars of the 50s by their names – Kirk, Victor, Marlon, Burt or James.

Folk were much less adventurous in the middle part of the 20th century. Popsugar.com dipped into the US Department of Social Security archives to inform us that Michael was the most popular boy’s name from the 1960s to the 1990s (since supplanted by Jacob). Lisa (1960s), Jennifer (1970s, Jessica (1980s and 1990s) and Emily (2000) lead the girls’ list, although that’s the last I’ll have to say about girls for now.

Pop Sugar’s 2018 take on this subject was to come up with a list of ‘unique’ boys’ names including Aaro, Abbott (truly), Ackley, Alber, Arian, Banner, Benton, Binx, Bowie and Brantley. A few cool ideas there if those with child want to have a look.

Christian names tend to become popular/trendy through celebrity, be it TV, movies, music or other forms of artistic endeavour. The name Paul reached the pinnacle of its popularity in the US in 1969 (1.4% of all boy’s names), coinciding with the popularity of folk-rock duo Simon & Garfunkel, who had universally known hits through the sixties until breaking up in 1970.

Few people would know why I chose to write a song about the famous Pauls of the world, other than to recount the story of the six Pauls we knew in our home town at the time.

She: “I saw Paul up the street.”

He: “Paul Who?”

It became a thing and the strange song got a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. This link takes you to our soundcloud page where you can listen to the song and others.

I stayed away from religion – I just assumed everyone knew there have been eight Pope Pauls and Paul the Apostle was just too obvious.

It’s a fair guess Paul Keating’s parents did not foresee the “small and/or humble” Paul (the Latin meaning of the name) become a wily Federal politician, the “World’s Greatest Treasurer” and eventually Prime Minister. And he still won’t go away, bobbing up on national current affairs programmes waxing eloquent about leadership and policy.

This website reveals everything you’d ever want to know about the name Paul. I wish to hell I’d found it before starting on my song!

I don’t much see the value in explaining all the references in Paul Who – some things deserve to remain a mystery, and besides, it’s fun to read between the lines.

I make an exception for a reader from Portugal who apparently downloaded the album on ITunes. He sent me a short email: “Who is the “making gravy guy”? I replied in detail about How to Make Gravy by Australian writer Paul Kelly. The story, as you know, is a letter from Joe to Dan, who has the responsibility of making Christmas go smoothly as he (Joe) will be behind bars for the duration.

The hidden agenda in ‘Paul Who’ is the cult of celebrity, mostly dominated by men. There’s only one Sheila (Aussie parlance) mentioned here, because of her notoriety on the extreme fringes of politics.

For what it’s worth, I thought a song dedicated to all the Pauls out there was long overdue. This website reckons 1.37 million boys in the US have been named Paul since 1880, though it tapered off in the 1970s. The most people given this name (26,968), was in 1957. Those people are now 62 years old. In Australia, Paul has fallen off the top 100 list, although Dylan is still there.

Curiously, if you are curious, the name Muhammad and all its variant spellings came in at number 1 in the UK (ranked 100 in Australia). The suspicious old journo who lives under my left hearing aid whispered “urban myth” so I dug a little bit more. The Spectator did the work for me, analysing the official statistics, saying that even when the variations in spelling are taken into account, Muhammad/ud/ed is still the single most popular boy’s name in England and Wales (though to be balanced, closely followed by Oliver, Jack and Harry). In Australia, Oliver tops the list of boys’ names. So, of course, In England and Wales, as in Australia, ‘Christian’ names far outnumber ‘Islamic’ ones.

No need to worry, Pauline and Fraser….

North Korea – 21st Century Missile Crisis

North-Korea-Missile — Workers in North Korea tending crops on Migok Farm, Sariwŏn. Photo by ‘Stephan’

If you’re old enough to remember the Cuban missile crisis, you’re probably less inclined to see the North Korea/US standoff as a prelude to the End Time.

In October 1962 (I was 13), President John F Kennedy and his Russian counterpart, Nikita Khrushchev, arm-wrestled over Soviet missile sites built on Cuban soil. Russia had taken steps to build missile silos on Cuba as a response to similar US installations in Turkey and other central Europe locations. As Cuba is just 90 nautical miles from Miami, Florida, this news prompted urgent meetings of defence and intelligence chiefs and then-POTUS John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

In October 1962, an American spy plane spotted what looked like a missile site being built on the island of Cuba. Thus began a tense, 13-day stand-off, during which time many people genuinely believed the world was about to end. Wealthy Americans commissioned fallout shelters (some are still being used today to take refuge from hurricanes).

You can say this about the US defence apparatus, they keep detailed historical records. Whether it is the unexpurgated truth is another matter. As Jack Nicholson’s character Colonel Nathan R Jessup in A Few Good Men famously says to prosecutor Lt Daniel Kaffee, who presses him for “the truth” – “You can’t handle the truth.”

In this instance, US intelligence agencies identified 15 SAM (surface-to-air missile) sites in Cuba.

The Soviets established a missile base on Cuba because they feared the US would invade Cuba, after the failed Bay of Pigs invasion in April 1961 by a CIA-sponsored paramilitary group.

At the time, there was still a lot of angst about Cuba; members of the CIA-sponsored Brigade 2506 were still being held captive after the Bay of Pigs invasion.

President Kennedy needed to resolve this situation, quickly and peacefully. The crisis ended with the Kennedy-Khrushchev “agreement” of October 28, 1962. Less well-known was a dispute over Soviet IL-28 bombers based in Cuba. The US claimed they were “offensive weapons” under the October 28 agreement. Kennedy also made a (then) secret agreement to remove US missile sites from Turkey. These events ended the crisis but continued the “Cold War” (which ended in 1991) between Russia and the US.

So to 2017 and North Korea’s threat to target Washington or New York (or more likely Tokyo), with nuclear-tipped missiles.

You may have watched Monday’s Four Corners/BBC expose on the assassination of Kim Jong-un’s half-brother, Kim Jong-nam. This documentary was, I thought, a little bit too informed by ex-CIA sources, US think-tanks and North Korea-watchers. It would be good to sit down in a bar with a regular DPRK citizen to see if they really are oppressed.

“Howzit goin’ Choi? Gettin’ enough to eat? Been threatened or beaten up lately?” Mate, do you get Outback Truckers on DPRK TV?”

If reports about poverty, famines, repression, reprisals, executions and endemic surveillance are true, you could hardly blame a DPRK citizen for having a drink or four. Communist regimes commonly keep alcohol prices down and relax access to it as a means of helping citizens cope with a bleak lifestyle.

North Koreans predominantly drink hard liquor; Soju, a colourless spirit akin to vodka, taken neat. Its alcoholic content ranges from 17% to 60%.

“North Koreans’ main hobby is probably drinking,” said Simon Cockerell, a tour guide who has led more than 100 trips to the DPRK for foreigners.

But the World Health Organisation ranks North Korea below 128 countries whose alcohol consumption per capita is vastly more than the DPRK’s modest 3.7 litres (94.9% of which is spirits). Australians and New Zealanders drink four times as much.

If you want some raw insights into life in North Korea, cartoonist Guy Delisle’s 2001 graphic novel of his time in North Korea is a good start. The first part of Pyongyang – a journey in North Korea begins with a customs official in the dimly-lit airport terminal suspicious of Delisle’s tatty copy of 1984. “What kind of book is this?” The official relaxes when Delisle tells him he has a work visa arranged with a North Korean animation studio.

Once in country, Delisle kept a diary, illustrated with his drawings of Pyongyang and things that happened as he was chaperoned around by minders. I borrowed it from the local library a few years back and found it blackly fascinating and a little subversive.

A Hollywood movie was planned based on Delisle’s book starring Steve Carell. But the movie was cancelled, reportedly because of the kerfuffle over Sony’s film, The Interview.

Love, love, love is all you need

Last weekend, we spent four glorious days and nights away from the constant stream of doomsday news. About 1,000 people from a broad spectrum of society congregated at a bush campground on the fringes of the D’Aguilar National Park. When people ask me what a folk festival is like, I tell them it’s not so much about the music (often heartfelt songs of equality, justice and humanitarianism), but the harmonious atmosphere.

Many performers took time out between songs at the Neurum Creek Music Festival to observe how sweet it was to have some respite from the constant barrage of end-of-the-world scenarios.

Comedians and folksingers Martin Pearson and John Thompson, reunited as Never the Twain, took a moment from manic wisecracks and parodies to touch the collective soul. The Fred Small song Scott and Jamie is a five-minute story about a gay couple who adopt two boys and are living the dream until social services intervene. The refrain – ‘Love is love, no matter who, no matter where’ rippled out across the festival venue. A hush fell; dogs dialled it down to rapid panting. Even the bar staff fell under the spell.

Four people sitting in front of me rose to their feet at the song’s end, to applaud the splendidly rendered version and the sentiment. It may be a forlorn hope to think that we can cure the world by singing songs of love and peace like ‘Imagine’, ‘Redemption Song,’ or ‘All you Need is Love’. But what else can a pacifist do?

She Whose Family Immigrated from Canada in 1964 thinks her Dad picked this place on the map to escape proximity to a looming nuclear war between two super powers. It didn’t happen then, but there have been scary moments since – September 11, 2001 in particular.

What now? Will we see a new surge of refugees from Japan and the US testing Australia’s world-famous, inclusive asylum seeker policies? Perhaps, as the latest issue of Popular Mechanics suggests, people will invest in bomb shelters instead. Those with wealth enough can spend tens of millions on ‘Doomsday Condos’, shelters big enough to cater for the extended family, friends, pets, the family lawyer…

Or you could travel to a village in Ontario, contribute ‘sweat equity’ and join other idealists maintaining the world’s biggest nuclear shelter, Ark 2.

Sigh. Détente would be easier, and cheaper. You know – détente as in ‘a relaxing of tensions between nations through negotiations and agreements’. Or rapprochement, even. But this would require Donald Trump and Kim Jong-un to clasp hands across a table and sign an Accord.

We wish.

See more on this topic: ‘Surviving Armageddon’