A conversation With Music: Gordon Giltrap.

This week, I'm thinking guitars and guitarists. Especially those with a few miles on the clock.

I was at a gig last week, packed with music veterans. Among them, the great guitar player Tony Kelsey, who, along with fellow muso Matt Worley, has criss-crossed the country collecting superstar guitarist signatures on a Fender, soon to be auctioned, to benefit Jerry Donahue: that particular story is here. There's hardly any room left on the guitar for more famous names. I came away thinking... guitar.
 

Guitarists. Skills. Seems to be a good combination.

Guitarists just seem to carry on longer than many in rock. The Guardian just ran a review listing the many incarnations of 70s prog-rockers Yes, all of whom tour; it's not just UB40 who have a bad case of multiple fractious identities. The last sentence was key:

“Arguments still rage about which band is really Yes, but with 70-year-old guitarist (Steve) Howe’s virtuosity undimmed... these time-served warriors are surely entitled to a few more moments in the sun.”

So, the incredibly ancient Steve Howe still struts his stuff. Good luck to him. 

The joy of watching skills honed over a lifetime

I take huge pleasure in watching veteran musos still at the top of their game. It's long been said that the very act of playing music is good for you, and I believe that. Of course, you need to avoid rock and roll excess, and factor in the sheer physical strain of, say, strapping a plank of wood across your shoulders for half a century.

But it's heartening to see so many of the musos I know from back in the day, still spry, still up for it, still savvy, and still, above all, thoroughly enjoying their craft.

A reunion forty years on

And that brings me to the newest radio show I've been working on. In 1976, as a young rock DJ at the old BRMB, I was very taken with an album from Gordon Giltrap. Again, I invite you to look him up if you're under 40. We met when he did the radio circuit to plug his album; it was a nice interview. 

A few years later, Gordon hit pay-dirt with 'Heartsong', which he still plays. That paydirt got richer still when the song was chosen to be the theme tune for BBC TV's Holiday programme.

And late last year, we met up again. Gordon's still here, and happy to be here too. He's still spry, as nimble-fingered as always, and as positive as ever. I went to his house to for what turned out to be a long and very convivial chat. Gordon is a man with stories: he has extraordinary tales of the UK 60s folk scene, when, starting as a fresh-faced 18 year old, he met, befriended, played and collaborated with some of the giants of the UK folk revival.

Conversations with music. Live music.

Now, every so often, I've been lucky to conduct an interview with a musician, who in between the chat, will sing and play right there in the studio. I did one a few years back with Brum favourites Steve Gibbons and John Caswell; another with Steve Ajao and Dave Wakelin. They were lovely shows to do, recorded under studio conditions, and if you are interested, Brum Radio has both on its listen-again page, here and here.

I love this kind of show. I've long wanted to do more. But of course, you need the right elements. Those are: favourable recording conditions, a musician of stature and experience, who can, and will, switch seamlessly between story telling and playing, ideally as naturally as if you were simply having a conversation. I'm thinking fondly of some rather fine pub nights in Killaloe in the West of Ireland, some 16 years back. Music conversations flowed and sang across the room. 

Pick up your guitar and play....

But you know what? Those elements all came together when I sat down with Gordon Giltrap. Gordon rolled out some great stories, and the cherry on the cake was that he was happy to break out his guitars, talk about them, discuss structure and technique, and above all play some stunning stuff. It was thrilling to sit three feet away from a great virtuoso, watching him play, really close up. I was very lucky.

So now, after some careful assembly work, you can hear the results. It is, indeed, a conversation with music. I haven't made this as a DJ show, with in-show intros for every piece of music; Gordon's live work is front and centre in the show, but on top of this absolute luxury, there are snatches of music from influential stars of the day as they came up in the conversation.

If you know all of these pieces, you're probably over 40 years old. If you don't, I list them at the end of the show. And when the show goes on to listen-again, as it will after its two Brum Radio airings, every detail will come up on your player as it happens.

That's why it's a conversation with music. Listen online right here...




I'm planning on doing more.  

Links: Gordon Giltrap's website
Photos from Mick Dodsworth
 

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It's only taken me 50 years to work this one out

Onstage chemistry. Powerful stuff.

This time last week, I made very heavy weather of the day. Physically, I was completely shattered; my head, on the other hand, was spinning furiously. I really wasn't up to much.

And what was this about? Simple. I'd sung in a bloody brilliant choral concert at Birmingham Town Hall, the previous day. Now, singing in a choir is really no big deal; people do this all the time. I've been singing for maybe five years with the same group of very nice people; it's thoroughly enjoyable. 

But because I participated in last week's shindig – a proper, pomp and circumstance, full-on, full scale Classical affair, with loads of voices and an orchestra - I now have a much better idea of the things that make live musicians, or for that matter any live performer, tick. It's taken me this long to work it out; odd, considering I've been going to gigs for over fifty years.  

When did you last sit down and listen all the way through an album?

Grazing is the new norm. And that's not good.

Thanks to Acid Pix at Flickr

I was asked this week what album I had listened to most recently, just for pleasure. 

I couldn't name one. I was astonished. 

Back in the day, I always, always, always had an album to champion and play till I wore the grooves out. Now? Not so much. It's far more about the artist. Or the song. Or the video. Or the Facebook like. 

That's a clue right there. Like most of us, I'm not dealing with grooves any more. Now, it's streams. But I think there's a lot more to it than that. And I'm certain I'm not alone. 

So I sat down and thought a bit. Here's what I came up with, after the jump. It's not pretty.

You're in the studio at last after all these years. What now?

You know the songs, backwards. What happens when you go in the studio to record? Here's two different worlds with quite a lot in common.

    Ruby by Rich Shakespeare;    Chris by Alan Cole Photography         

I've been talking recording a lot recently. Last month, Chris Cleverley, an astonishingly talented and inventive singer-songwriter, wrapped up his first album; we talked about the process. If you've haven't seen seen Chris yet, by the way, go. Soon. 

Last week, I took tea with Ruby Turner, who is fresh from laying down vocals fronting Jools Holland's R and B orchestra. She's done over 15 albums of her own; she's a featured vocalist with Holland; she's guested everywhere. Ruby hasn't so much bought the t-shirt as designed the damn thing. So I asked her about the recording process too.

Two very different perspectives: tyro and veteran. I wondered if they had anything in common. Turns out they do.

Mahalia. Four years of development, and she's still only seventeen. Crikey.

Ridiculously young and talented, with a major label deal... that might suggest you got it made. Great expectations then.

Four years ago, Mahalia played a Tea Room Tent debut slot at Moseley Folk. It was a gentle but excellent start, in front of some major Brum music faces. 

Four weeks ago, Mahalia made her BBC2 Later debut, fronting the irrepressible Rudimental. No build-up: the camera panned directly to her from Joan Armatrading. No pressure, then. To see how it went, scroll down for the video. Mahalia is still only 17. She is being guided by her parents, who were both active in the music business in the 80s, and have the scars to prove it. She already has a deal with a major: Asylum/Atlantic. This is not usually how things get done these days. Not anymore. But then again, Mahalia is unusual.

Thirty Minutes On New Street

"Two songs in, someone gave me some money. And I thought - this is alright."

We'd fixed to meet up outside the Old Library, up at the top of the square, in the Friday lunchtime sunshine. No sign, though. Just a rather portly depressed chap parping out one euro folk melody on his trumpet, over and over. He didn't want to really talk; couldn't anyway. OK, he wasn't the guy I wanted.  But, Ping! Here's a text: My man was playing outside Morrisons.

So down the steps, across the square, past the Floozie and the Iron Man, and a bit of audio comes floating up New Street. There he was: Spence Cater, with mic, guitar and amp, and a little bit of cash in his guitar case. I watched for half an hour as he rattled through a range of different songs. And we talked.

Why did you start?

I'm a busking rookie, but I'm not new to music. I'm a songwriter; been in various bands, and it's something I've always fancied doing. I thought I'd try it and see. I'd always let fear get the better of me, always had those 'oh I need a licence', or 'I haven't got the right songs' or 'it's not the right weather'... all those excuses.

Good for you. Me, I'd be terrified. 

But it's very liberating. In early March I took my guitar into town to get it fixed. I was chatting... a guy just freed the whole thing up for me. He said you only need two or three songs, really. Because people just walk past. No one really stands round and listens for any longer than a couple of minutes. 

You know what? He was right. And the weather was great: one of those freaky days in March when it was like summer. SoI decided to do it. 

Two songs? Which ones?

Oh, I can't remember what I played now. I didn't really care - it was just more about doing it. So I put the bag down and I played in Victoria Square. I didn't know then that there are designated areas. I just thought anyone can do it - just put your bag down and have a go. So I did. 

Two songs in, someone gave me some money. And I thought - this is alright, it's not scary, no-one is attacking me, I'm actually feeling quite confident. So that was it. I carried on playing, me and my guitar around the city.

I quickly found all the other buskers had these little street cube amps. It's what you need if you to save your voice and your fingers.

One day, there was a guy from the council, called Mahendra (Chauhan) – he okays all the street events. So he came up... 

 “Have you got permission to busk here?” 

 I said, 'Well... I haven't asked anybody.' 

Basically they  auditioned me on the spot. I could carry on playing if they thought I was all right. And they did, and invited me in to have a talk about busking. He was keen to learn what was happening and how we could interact. 

So there was a meeting. There's a new law being drafted.

Aha. Not sure if I like he sound of that. What exactly is going to happen?

Don't know. As it stands busking isn't illegal. What  they're trying to do, I suppose, is to control it in a way with statutory fines. They can't fine you now. They can move you on, for obstructing the highway or something like that, but busking is not a crime. So once they've got this new law they can just slap you with a fine, 80 pounds, 100 pounds or whatever. Obviously most people will be put off by that. 

It is is fairly organised at the moment: there are designated spots. The idea is that once you've auditioned and been accepted, you ring up each morning, or in advance if you want, to book days in advance. The ideas is that they spread the best spots around accepted buskers. It doesn't really help because everybody wants the best spots, approved or not.  

So they would like to control it but it's not quite happening. Tell me about your fellow buskers? Ever pitched up at a favourite spot, when someone who's expecting to play rocks up and you're already there?

I hadn't really experienced anything like that. I don't know. I never got confronted in that way. There is a code, and it actually self-regulates. The unwritten busker's code is if someone's in a spot you don't go there or you set up in a place further down which isn't going to bleed into their sound.

What has busking done for you? Has it changed and developed you?

Yes. Completely. As a performer it's given me a lot of confidence. It's OK to make mistakes; you don't have to be perfect. At a gig, people tend to come up and say something, even if it's a platitude. On the street they've got no obligation to say anything, so if they come over and say you know that was really great. So you can start to see what works and what doesn't.

The downside is you're vulnerable. I go to different places at different times, but you're always guaranteed to be a magnet for disturbed people. They come up to you because you're a public figure. There's no boundaries, they come right in your face.

Is a slightly deranged person rotating around you bad for business?

What they want is a reaction, to engage with them. So I pretend it's not happening. I just carry on playing. And it works for me anyway: they walk off. 

The last person I talked to about busking before you was Erica Nockalls. Miles Hunt spotted her when she was busking in Stratford; that's how she joined the Wonder Stuff. But it made me think: she's a Birmingham Conservatoire graduate, and technically fabulous. And I was just wondering: are there any Conservatoire kiddies out there doing amazing stuff to eke out their grants?

There's a couple, not so much here. Stratford-Upon-Avon is the place for that. Particularly because in Stratford they really encourage string instruments without vocals. They don't like amplification; they want the violinist and the cellists and the quartets and all that. They don't want people like me who are a bit rough and ready.

I haven't seen any buskers in the arcades in Brum. Shame really, cause they've got great acoustics for that kind of thing. Is that because it's private property?

A lot of the places that might be good busking areas are off limits. Places like Brindley Place, or parts of the market, the Arcadian... places like that. The city is talking about trying to expand that to get people in.

What about your fellow buskers? Have you seen any with particular talent?

Some of the young buskers are really good. There's a guy called David Fisher; he's been doing it a number of years. He must have started when he was 18 or something. He's got an incredible repertoire - about 5 hours - he plays with a proper folk neck brace and belt with harmonicas and all that. There's a girl called Esther Turner who's an amazing vocalist. I'm not going to say what money she makes but she makes a lot. Which is good for her and she's sweet, really nice and she's an incredible vocalist. I think there's a lot of talent out there and I think it's a great way of making money out of music because it's direct.

One of the few ways of making money out of music! 

Absolutely.

At least it's in your back pocket and you can go home and you're done. Final question: is it worthwhile?

For me it's worthwhile. People make a living out of it; for me it's a part time thing but this summer it could very well be full time and maybe next summer too. It's definitely worth it for me for building confidence and repertoire; people do approach you for different things - can you play this gig, that gig? It's a way of networking; a good way of broadcasting yourself.

Back on the street, Spence was generating a steady stream – nothing fancy, but not a pittance. People gave in very different ways. A very pretty girl stopped and watched for two songs, dropped some coins in the case and applauded before she went off. An ultracool kiddie floated by filming on his iPhone, didn't stop, didn't tip. Unlikely people fished for coins and dropped them in without breaking stride. Spence switched in and out of personal songs, out to Johnny Cash (tip generator) and One Direction (zip). Spence's thanks were smoothly done – on the beat, no interruption to the songs. Most people, of course, ignored him.  But it looked like a reasonable morning's work. 

Even if I could play guitar, I still couldn't do it. But I'm going to slow down the next time I see someone playing on the street. 

Links
Spence Caters's website. Spence is happy to talk to anyone who is thinking about busking; contact him through his site. 
Birmingham City Council's Info page for Street Entertainment.
See also the Buskers Unregulated Facebook page.

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Urban Folk Quartet: what happens when a key member leaves? The classic problem.

How can Urban Folk Quartet handle Frank Moon's departure? Time for radical thinking.

       Joe, Paloma and Tom are staying....    Frank's going....    and Dan's coming  

Urban Folk Quartet are a cheerful bunch. They're fun to watch and very good at going about their business. In fact, they're a shining example of how to do things; other bands could learn from them. Musically, they deliver mainly storming high-octane instrumentals, with a bit of vocals and a lot of badinage, and bravura instrumental work from all four members. 

Up to now, this included fabulous oud and guitar playing from Frank Moon. But Frank's skills and career are taking him to all sorts of new places. So, regretfully, he is moving on, leaving UFQ with a huge hole to fill. The big question was: how do you replace someone like Frank Moon, who has been so integral to the band?  How do you transition?

Joe Broughton (fiddle, expansive personality) and Tom Chapman (cajon, percussion, clever stuff with triangles) spent time with me this month going though their options.