Tuesday, August 13, 2024

Wylam Institute Gig: More

I've had to post the photos (thanks Cathy!) separately because this platform is really glitchy this morning.
Anyway- Saturday's gig was unbelievable. I hadn't realised how nervous I'd been until I got there, but Phil Ogg and his crew were setting up and already buzzing. I've known Phil for millions of years: he is one of the thousands of friends that my youngest brother has/had in Wylam, who all still know each other, and who all (it seemed) turned out for the gig later that night. After a quick sound check I met with my brothers and sister in The Ship, where I used to go to Wylam Folk Club when I was about 16 years old, and we sat and chatted for a while. 
Back at the Institute, the seats were filling up. Phil told everyone that the bar would only serve between acts, which meant there was no chat, clinking, smashing glasses, rattling of ice cubes or any of that lark going on while people played.

Osaka Jo played first. She is a singer/songwriter with an absolutely lovely voice that set the tone for a listening evening that carried on all night. The audience was entranced by her music, and she was well-appreciated by everyone in the room.

The second act, Floppy Posture, could not have been more different. A six-piece, they are fronted by Simon Brough (who I used to bell-ring with when we were about 14 and 15 respectively), and lovely accordion player Keren Banning. They played a set of gentle, good-time songs that were really catchy and got a few people dancing. Their bass player Alex was familiar- he was part of a group pf people that Simon's brother Andy used to know. Andy died a couple of years ago, and was a very good school friend. We used to go round his house and listen to a group of his friends jamming on guitars in the hallway of the house.
Musically, Floppy Posture are excellent: there are trumpet lines that harmonise with accordion lines, vocal harmonies that fill out the sound, some unusual cover versions (Just Can't get Enough), and lots of memorable melodies. Simon had told me about them rehearsing in a  quarry beside his house, and it was a complete delight to be able to hear them in real life. They scored a well-deserved encore.

I was last on, and was relieved to see that everyone was still there. Honestly, as a musician it's incredible to see a sea of faces who are ready to listen to an unfamiliar set because they have come to have a good night out, and are ready to appreciate whatever's on offer. You could feel the warmth radiating from the audience, and it was an absolute privilege to play to the village crowd of all ages (children, Anne who is 92, everything between and even a well-behaved dog). I pushed aside the sea of Institute memories that came flooding in (jumble sales, dancing in The Pied Piper of Hamelin, the village show, Girl Guides), and thoroughly enjoyed singing and playing. Thanks to my siblings for making the journey, it was lovely to see a friend who I went to school with when I was six and who came over from Stocksfield, lovely to see Jane and Anne, and Cathy who came from Amble, Andy's rowdy friends (hooray!) and thanks to the sound guy who did a brilliant job, but most of all thanks to Phil Ogg who hit on the idea during a phone conversation and put it all into action, every little detail: selling tickets in the greengrocer's, hiring the Institute, and all of those really important things that make a night really work. His helper friends also deserve a big mention, especially for smiling a lot and just generally adding to the good atmosphere. 

These gigs in small places really matter. It's a big bad world out there, and every effort people make to swim against that tide is an essential element in turning it in the opposite direction. 
End of post by happy Helen, apart from a little video of the church bells at St Oswin's being rung up on Sunday morning, ready for the formal sequence that calls the congregation to the morning service.











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