Jo Freya’s Musings

One of the things I wanted to say about the young woman’s story of nearly being murdered and survival, in last weeks blog, was that one of the reasons I found it difficult to speak was because she touched a nerve. The singing , my singing , which she found so helpful in her road to recovery was recorded just after I had been diagnosed with a grade four cancerous tumour and just before I was due to start chemo therapy. So those vocals for me are full of portent that is not immediately apparent to anyone else. I nearly told her after she told me what had happened to her but a strong voice in my head said, this isn’t about you, this is about her. It felt right that the focus should remain so at the the time but I am still left with the thought of wow..it was such an emotion filled performance for me then and maybe, in someways, that’s what came across to her.

Last week we were in Rudolstadt for the festival. Now one of the largest in Europe. It was my fourth visit as an artist which I am told is nearly a record . It is one of my favourites as there are many different stages and many different styles of music pretty much ensuring there is something for everyone…….except some of the festival drivers who told me they were into grunge, metal and heavy rock….they still liked to wander round if they had a break though.

Just before I got there I got a message for Jo Meyer an old East German friend who I have mentioned in a previous blog. The message said he would be compering the stage that we were due to perform on three times . Hoorah. Not only was Jo there but many other friends we made before the wall came down and who have become friends for life. Discussions ensued with those friends and with people buying CDs after the gigs…I remember when you first came etc etc….Their memories are clearer than mine but apparently it was 1989 and we went to Leipzig Tanz festival. We went back just after the wall came down but just before reunification and I have been various times since with various bands.

That first time is ingrained upon my memory . How could it not be? First there was the difficulty of actually getting there..paperwork and logistics which Paul James dealt with. Then there was actually doing it. Going through the border control was extraordinary . It was huge. I have a vague memory of being told that it stretches for 3 kilometres. Whether that’s a true memory I can’t tell you but I do remember it involved a lot of starting and stopping at various bits, papers and passports taken away, given back and then driving on etc…

Once we were through we had to get where we were going . The reception for us was fantastic but the food at the time was difficult fo me. Very little fresh produce. Lots of meats and breads , some pickled vegetables but not much fresh, veg, salad or fruit.not important when you are not going to be somewhere for very long but a memory non the less.

On a practical note I think we all had to go in with a minimum of western currency eg £20 but that we were being paid East German marks that we could not take out or exchange. That didn’t matter particularly to us as we wanted the experience as much as anything and we had other gigs in west Germany to help with the expenses.

One of the things we thought we would do to get rid of the money was to take everyone out for a meal. The band, organisers helper etc. We asked for the best restaurant , which I think was Polish and off we all went. We had a three course meal with wine and beers and the bill cost each member of the band something equivalent to 60p each …that included paying for everyone else. Crazy. So that year we left,as far as I remember, with Pentax camera’s , tents and other things to spend some of the money. We had to smuggle those out in the van as it was illegal needless to say. There were a lot of people holding their breaths when we went back through border control but all went well.

When we played just after the wall came down it was still too complicated to take the East marks out so we gave what we had left to friends hoping they would spend it. Nope…when we returned they had not only kept the left over money but converted it to West German marks which they happily presented to us. Astonishing especially as everyone new with the changing times they might well have had greater need for the money than we did….and we barely earntnenough to survive despite touring constantly.

But it was one of my conversations with Jo that I remember most about being a musician in East Germany. He said in some areas of work things were simple. If you became a window frame maker you we’re paid what all window makers were paid but music was slightly different. If you decided you wanted to be a musician or band you had to play before a committee. This committee did not have to be made up of musicians and more often than not wasn’t. They had the power to decide if you could go professional and if they decided yes they also decided how much you could charge which you were then Guaranteed when ever you played . They decided your worth. A remarkable system that quite possible sent some brilliant musicians packing due to not understanding them and possibly turned some mediocre ones into professionals…..not so different from today in some ways although the guarantee of an income is amazing. All the ones we met were fantastic.

I also remember staying in a large hotel opposite the magnificent Leipzig railway station. If you wanted to phone home you had to book your call and that could only be done for the hotel lobby. They connected you at the appointed time and then you were subject to one fo those phone calls you only really see in films now…long delays, echoes on the line etc.

A truly unforgettable experience of which there are many things I shall never forget . So imagine then going to this festival situated in the East . So many old friends and acquaintances so happy to see us . Conversations and memories shared, sharing with them some of our new music and some old too. Really lovely…. that’s why I was confident when I asked if anyone was coming to our Hamburg gig in the Autumn that someone would say yes. These lovely people will travel a long way if they think a gig is in reach and manageable . I asked them because I needed someone to keep some CDs for us. It seemed pointless taking them home especially with the restrictions of air travel. They’ll be delivered to us In Hamburg. Lovely.

Today I am in Germany. I would have said Rudolstadt but we are staying in a hotel in a different town. Saalfeld. I am definitely whacked having got up at 4am and yet I don’t feel like I want to sleep. So I thought I’d get my Wednesday blog done as I wanted to tell you a little more about Italy last weekend.

The photo at the top of the blog is a picture of one of the dishes served daily at the festival in Viafre, Piedmont, Italy. I meant to take a photo for you as behind the bar they had about six waffle machines round and the size of a dinner plate. They were for making a local Piedmont waffle called Gofri. Fillings could be sweet or savoury and it was like the equivalent of a crepe stall at a festival. I never got to try one though although I meant to but they fed us so well I simply wouldn’t have had room for it. This blog tells you how to make them….I haven’t read it so it may we’ll be in Italian. Translation could make for some interesting variations ha ha. https://cucinapiemontese.blogspot.com/2010/07/gofri.html

The other extraordinary image I wanted to photograph for you was the phone charge station. This was near the entrance and people just pluged in their phones, wandered off and come back and got them a while later when they were charged. No body was manning this station, you didn’t need to sign them in or out and no ones phone was stolen…Isn’t that amazing. The whole place was like that. Once inside the grounds people left their bags lying about and obviously felt perfectly safe doing so. Andy did leave his phone in a taxi though but that’s another story…had his boarding pass on it too!

The Grand Bal Trad was an extraordinary experience . The festival has five marquees and they are all for dancing. Marquee or ‘Falco 1’ was the largest and that’s the one we played in all the time. How extraordinary though to run those stages almost always simultaneously and have enough people to fill them for dancing, Jewish dancing, Swedish, Italian regional dances, Sicilian dances, Tango, Québécois etc etc…. In the day times there were three lots of two hour workshops, all different and in all the marquees and then at least two bands on in each marquee in the evening. Heaven for dancers apart from one thing. Mosiquitos. It’s in a rice field region and my god are they monstrous. They’re not particularly large but viscous. A friend told me they had treated the site before the festival was due to start….well if that was treated I would hate to have been there when it wasn’t. I developed a form of Tourette’s where every time they cam near my face and mouth I was blowing and swearing at the same time , ‘Ffffffffffhaaack..orff’. My lovely pal Anna had supplied me with spray and a coolant thing for after they bite. Despite being covered in that I am still scratching some of the bites now.

The other thing that was a little hard to deal with was dust. The earth had turned to dust due to the dry heat and the combination of that and your body being quite hot and sweaty was unpleasant. If you then factor in being lathered with chemicals to ward off the beasties you can imagine those horrible moments where you pop your fingers near your mouth without thinking. It made everything taste disgusting.

But having said all that would I go again ? Oh yes. The response to Blowzabella was magical. I think some of you saw the Facebook posts about the emotional way people responded weeping at the music and then when the band changed tunes they whooped and cheered. By the last night the mosh pit in front of the stage were all singing along too. It started with my tune, ‘Kesteven ‘ which seems to be in the right key for singing as it first happened at Halsway and then it happened at Viafre…and then they were singing along with most tunes by the last night. There is no doubt that the Italians do love singing and practically every band had singing as part of their dance music. That really pleased me. But I want to tell you about another extraordinary moment.

We were sat, after the big gig , at a table , winding down and having a few beers. A young woman comes to the table and in faltering English said I just wanted to thank you all for your extraordinary music. Then she turned to me and said may I talk to you for a moment . I said,’please do’.

The story she told was almost unbelievable only because you just can’t imagine something like this unless it happens to you. It’s usually the sort of thing you see in a drama on TV. I think some of the subtleties of the story will be missing because she was telling me this in English.

She said a year ago she had had a boyfriend who had had mental health problems. She had been trying to help him through and she was a bee keeper leading a peaceful life and hoping that would help him. She said that he turned out to be far more ill than she had previously thought. The result was that he tried to kill her. He slashed her throat with a knife. She said her will to live was strong and she survived but he killed himself. She is left with a large scar on her throat. After he had tried to kill her she had struggled coming to terms with things and mending particularly psychologically . She said the main things that had helped her was the music of Blowzabella and in particular my singing . She had listened to it constantly over the course of the year and it had really helped. I was very moved and could barely speak for fear of bursting in to tears. I thanked and said how lovely it was to have helped and I hoped she would continue to go from strength to strength . She said oh yes I will.

Isn’t it extraordinary the way our music can touch people’s lives quite profoundly and without us knowing it. I know music can have a profound impact on me and take me instantly to certain places and times and memories of people etc It can also make me laugh and cry and feel excited. But I just don’t expect to be part of something that has that depth of impact on others.

Years ago Token Women used to do a dance in Exeter on a Saturday night and to bump up the fee we would do a concert in Exeter Art centre on the Friday. Programming courtesy of the lovely Andy Morley at the time and hospitality usual at the Morley’s with Ros too. This was effectively their Christmas ceilidh and so our concerts always had a Christmas tinge to them. At that time Kathryn Locke was in the band and she and I used to do a version of Joni Mitchell’s ‘River’. Just cello and voice . It seems to go down well the first time we tried it and so we did it again the following year. In the interval a man came up to me and said, ‘you changed my life when you sang that song last year so thank you’. That was all he said. He didn’t say what had changed or in what way and I am left wondering to this day …..I obviously didn’t change his life but something about that rendition of that song at that time did something to make him change his own. Wow. You don’t forget comments like that.

It’s one of those funny schedules at the moment where I am currently in Italy having left home last night, stayed at Stansted, got up at 4am, flew to Torino on the 6.45 etc

I am here until early on Monday morning when I return briefly, go to Andy’s Tuesday night and fly, early to Berlin, on Wednesday morning. I’ll stop there as there’s another country after that which I can’t get my head round at this time but at least when it does happen it’s holiday.

Anyway, this morning Mr Cutting drove us from the hotel across to the parking. Mid term parking, 3 mins from the terminal and job’s a good’n.

I travel with a huge grey suitcase. In it are my tenor and soprano sax, clarinet, stands and any beauty products that need to go into the hold. It hurts every time you see your babies go off into the hold but it’s joyous if they are returned in functioning order. I’ quite happy when the instruments are in one piece too !! It doesn’t always happen. I also have a small black suitcase with my clothes in and a shoulder bag with documents, books etc

At the bus stop in the mid stay car park they seem to use standard, although helpfully single story buses, with about enough room for four suitcases only and serving predominantly a holiday clientele. Imagine then a bus catering for ‘normal’ tourists when three musicians carting my stuff, a bass guitar, two Accordions and two other suitcase/bags. Chaos.

One time, in the days of separate flight cases – otherwise known as the jurassic age I came out of some airport somewhere on my own and got the bus to the car park. Had I written down where my car was? – no. Could I remember? – no. Eventually I was practically crying with the pain of lugging too many things and eventually gave up. I left them standing on their own, as dust and tumble weed rolled by, while I looked. Fortunately the fact I’d given up seemed to conjure up the happy view of the car and it wasn’t a mirage but an actual oasis. Never again will I forget to write the location.

We were discussing all this like you do and it reminded me of a time coming back from France with Andy and Barn and Andy’s car broke down …so badly that we crawled on to Euro star and opened the bonnet – where upon all the alarms went off and a man came running and told us to close the bonnet as we were setting the heat sensors off.

You think that would be the end of the story but no. The AA said they would meet us off the train. We came out. Were they there? No. Andy phoned and they said – ‘we’ll send someone now’

It wouldn’t have mattered too much except that we were on our way to Towersey and I was due to play a dance with the Old Swan Band.

Then once we were hooked up and on the road guess what? The AA van broke down. Not engine trouble but he couldn’t close the passenger window . The electronics had stopped working and he wasn’t allowed to continue without it working.

Eventually we got to Towersey on a different truck and Andy couldn’t leave until the Tuesday at the end of the festival as he had to wait to get the car fixed. I meanwhile had made it to theOld Swan gig but a little late – they were already in the full throws so I just got my instruments out and joined in as soon as possible. Nice gig from what I remember.

Blowzabella are now chilling at the festival – all except Greg he is still 100 kilometres away. We did the sound check without him – but with a load of hornets instead (I’m not joking) but they don’t have the finesse of Greg, obviously, despite the buzzing. Dinner is being served to the masses and we are on at 00.45 until 2.30 am.

Probably tell you more about the festival next week.

The title makes it sound like I’m talking about underwear but I’m not…more making a bloomer…no that sounds like sowing or baking!…anyway. Last night Moirai played Bracknell Folk Club which isn’t in Bracknell but Windelsham. It is possibly the smallest folk club I have ever been in or played in. The organiser, Steve, did describe it as being like a large front room and he wasn’t wrong. Apparently they still had one guest where they insisted on using P.A despite the fact that that took up a third of the room. The room itself had an extraordinary acoustic to the point where I thought we sounded really loud..god knows what having a PA would have done. The walls were reflective enough.

For those of you who don’t know Moirai it’s myself, Sarah Matthews on violin, viola and vocals and Mel Biggs on diatonic accordeon, flute and vocals. One of the sets of tunes we play is ‘Half Maid/Italian Mix’. Despite the fact I wrote them they are not easy to play. I think I’ve mentioned before that when I play I don’t think in keys but in finger patterns but occasionally that goes wrong or my brain decides to go somewhere completely different. Well that happened last night. There’s a lovely low note that adds to the drama of the piece and it’s not a ‘shy’ note in that you have to hit it and it rings forth. Well I hit the wrong one, nice, low one, but completely wrong and sticking out like a fog horn in a string recital. So wrong I burst out laughing and could barely continue. The audience completely went with me on the laughter and Mel and Sarah joined in whilst carrying on playing. I do think that if you’re at ease with your mistakes then the audience are comfortable too but as I said to the audience if your going to make a mistake you might as well make it a big one and rather like voting for the best goal in a football season if there was a vote for best cock up I would have won it last night. Despite that we have literally just received an email from the organiser thanking us for a splendid evening. He said he’d felt really tired on arrival but by the end he wished there were one or two more hours so I guess the mistake didn’t matter.

The folk club had a nice range of floor spots including the mellow turns of Hector Gilchrist who I sat and chatted to before our bit in each half. He is another lymphoma patient although his is mantel cell and mine is follicular . So we talked about bloods and energy levels amongst other things. Meanwhile Sarah was talking to relatives that had turned up and Mel was having a melodeon moment with a lady who’d bought a hohner C/F in a flea market that she”d paid £35…….£35 blimey and it was all functioning although no doubt could have done with a little over haul but at that price who cares!

Then one of the floor singers got up and sang ‘The Nutting Girl’. This is one of those folk songs that I have never actually learnt but somehow knew and still know all the words too. I was instantly bounced, memory wise, into a Whitby folk festival ceilidh. They used to do these themed Ceilidhs which were a huge amount of fun and usually involved people raiding each other’s wardrobes and picking up missing bits of kit from the charity shops around the town.

I decided to go as a punk rocker. Someone lent me some leather trousers, I had a black leather jacket I sprayed my hair up into an impersonation of a Mohican and covered my face in makeup that was relevant for the time. I added safety clips to various parts of my face and ears in order to look like multiple piercings.

On arrival at the dance people looked, shall we say.., nonplused…as if to say ‘well we know what we are but what have you come dressed as? At which point I started doing the motions of a Glaswegian kiss and said, ‘ why the nutting girl of course!’. Well I thought it was funny anyway.

So the Moirai mini tour goes on. I had a fantastic wander around the outside of a national trust property, Polesden Lacey, and I have had Chicken ham and leak pie in the ‘Stepping Stone’ pub near Dorking. I’m on the coffee now as food makes you feel a little drowsy and we still have the gig to do.

A short blog this week. Thanks for reading, commenting and sharing and I had a personal email this week thanking me for the blogs and telling me to continue. I shall and as I always say if you wat to know stuff, hear thoughts about stuff etc – just ask.

I’ve been having Physiotherapy recently due to that fall in France and the resulting fluid under my patella and inflamed ligaments. I have to say I’ve stopped now as it’s so bloody expensive and I didn’t seem to be improving any more. It brought therapy’s to mind in general as in ones I have had. Quite crazy experiences at times.

The year after chemotherapy I was invited to be part of an all women tutor course in Trossin in Germany. The workshops were organised by the fabulous Andrea Hotzko and there was one extended weekend in May and then another in the Autumn. The tutors came from France, Germany, Uk and I have a vague memory that the vocal tutor was Brazilian. The whole experience was exhausting and wonderful and very well organised. Exhausting because I was still in recover from the cancer and chemo. I think it was after the October one that I’d arranged to go and stay with my friends Jo and Gabi Meyer in the East of Berlin.

I first met Jo and Gabi when Blowzabella went to play in East Germany before the wall came down. I’ve no doubt I’ll tell you more about those amazing East German experiences in these blogs, later on, too. They were both part of a band called Jams. A brilliant band called Jams…. yes I meant to say that twice. It’s partly their recordings that make me particularly keen to get my turn table sorted out in France so that I can play my vinyl. Most of their early stuff isn’t on CD as far as I’m aware. Jo was memorable from the moment we met him. Firstly he was one of the few people who spoke some English. Most East Germans had Russian as a second language but additionally he was the one who said on meeting us, “I have personally copied one hundred cassettes of your album”. Normally if someone said that to a musician you’d punch them and cry, ‘foul deed’ and ‘where are my royalties’ etc but behind the wall in the East getting access to music, especially alternative music was really difficult so anything they could do to help each other have access they did. Copying the music and passing it round meant that when we played anywhere the crowds went absolutely mad for the music. So exhilarating.

Anyway, this little blog isn’t about that it’s about more recent times. I haven’t had a lot of alternative therapy in my life. I’ve had some acupuncture and something else where I used to be a guinea pig for the students in Nottingham but I have forgotten what it was called. Oops …sorry…shiatsu I think…or is that a type of dog? Reading that agin it sounds like I was turned into a guinea pig…now that would be something.

The first time I had acupuncture was for pain relief when I broke a rib. It did seem to help with the pain and the trauma. Certainly took your mind off it anyway!   Later it was for all kinds of things mixed together , broken heart (sob) , peri-menopausal symptoms, general fatigue etc…in hind site a lot of what I was experiencing then may well have been my follicular lymphoma developing. One time my acupuncturist had come back from a long haul flight. She seemed Ok if a little red eyed and dozy. The session went as normal, conversation, treatment, a bit of time on my own while the needles were left to work and then she took them out, I paid and off I went. As I got out into the street I felt a little chilled as the evening had drawn in and I decided to put my jacket back on. Ouch….something kept stinging me, I tried the coat again..the same pain. So I felt around the inside of my collar and couldn’t feel anything. Then I thought oh…..maybe she left a needle in. Fortunately I was the last patient of the day so she was still there and I wasn’t interrupting anything. Sure thing she’d not only left one but three needles all around the same area…ooops! She was absolutely mortified..some of you are muttering ‘so she should have been’. I forgive her as everyone is allowed mistakes. It didn’t do me much harm except I have since become my own garden sprinkler if I drink too much water. She was a nice woman and her horror gained her forgiveness on my part.

Gabi, unlike Jo (pronounced Yo by the way) didn’t speak much English at all. We had spent all the years we’d known each other mostly beaming at each other. Gabi had a delightful way of blushing too because she wanted to say things and just couldn’t so would giggle. We basically had a mutual admiration society but mostly expressed through our appreciation of each others music and a hug etc with Jo around to translate from time to time. Gabi was the first fiddle player in my European band  Freyja. Not long after it had been agreed that the band would happen Gabi became pregnant . This meant that when the band finally went on tour she came with baby and hubby. How they coped I have no idea. Very lovely for the rest of us to have little Freda around though…and Jo of course.

So, having arrived at their house and had a meal and a sleep Gabi said she wanted me to go and see her therapist…well Jo told me that was what Gabi was trying to say. She wanted to help with my recovery and she thought this would help. ‘Ok’, I said. I am happy to try anything and especially if you want me too’. She rang and made the appointment and off we went the next day.

I was shown into a room by a female therapist who told me to take my top off and lie down on my front. I have a vague memory of a hot stone being involved. She then did this kind of stroking and flicking thing and asked me one question. The question was something to do with my father which, bearing in mind I’ve never met him, not passed the age of 18 months anyway, I had no idea what to answer but did the best I could. Then after a while she left me on my own. The music was bearable (it’s often so awful I would rather have silence because it irritates me so much I want to scream…hardly relaxing!). Pretty soon it was time to get dressed and go back to the reception area.

When I got out to reception there were three women, including Gabi, all chatting animatedly in German, of course. I asked them what they were talking about. The therapist said falteringly, ‘you are.. hm..you are amazing’. I blinked..’ I beg your pardon? ‘you are amazing, hmm…amazing energy’. I obviously still looked dumbfounded so she called this other woman over and they all three discussed it and then the third woman said, ‘Yes, you are special. You are Shaman”. Having no idea what that meant and being just a touch embarrassed by now I fumbled in my bag for money and the woman at the counter also gave me a little piece of yellow paper that the therapist had scribbled on. The only bit I could decipher and remember was the bit at the bottom that said, ‘Spend more time with your feet on the earth and less with your head in the clouds’. Such an accurate description of me I assume that that’s where all Shamans live.

Joking aside I get very good afterwards.

Just to be on the safe side here is the Cambridge dictionary definition: Shaman “a person who is thought to have special powers to controlor influence good and evil spirits, making it possible for them to discover the cause of illness, bad luck, etc.” 

if anyone needs my shamanic services please get in touch.

I was sat round a dinner table, the other night, here in France exclaiming how a glass of Cremont de Limoux had gone straight to my head. A discussion ensued about fizz getting into your blood stream faster etc

It reminded me of a time in San Marino this time with the band I was in called Scarp.

If you’ve not heard Scarp here’s a link to a strange TV thing we were asked to be part of in Wales. I think the focus was on the poetry but we were there playing away – in a factory. A great fun band to be in and always musically challenging which I like a lot The tune is Le Pont by Patrick Bouffard the hurdy gurdy player. https://youtu.be/-uCyKE6TS-oScarp had been asked to play at the San Marino festival. Our drummer couldn’t make it so we spent some time rehearsing with an Italian drummer who is now in ‘Evening Star’ I believe. Unusually the concert was due to take place in a theatre. I say unusually because in summer in Italy I have played on outdoor stages 95% of the time. Maybe rain had been forcast, who knows?

The concert was hot and steamy but seemed to go well and go down well and after the concert we were ready for a wind down. We headed out into the square in front of the theatre and had a few beers. Meanwhile a dance group, who I think were Spanish, were getting ready, in full costume to put on a display.

Little did we know that this was going to turn into audience participation.

Our one member of the band at the time was an astonishing musician. I love him dearly. He’s a well turned out guy with a good hair cut and nice glasses. Due to the heat that night he’d changed out if his stage gear into a pair of khaki shorts which, despite his usual good taste, would not have stood out on a set of ‘It ain’t ‘arf ‘ot mum’. With his glasses the name Billy Bunter kept popping in my head…although he would be a slender version and not at all comparable especially not in his usual garb.

The other thing about him is he doesn’t dance – unless drink has been taken occasional and these days I do hope he’s embarrassed his lovely kids with ‘dad dancing’ at least once.

The dancers had shown some of their repertoire and then invited the audience to get up for a dance. Everybody had to get in two lines. Men on one side women on the other.

I don’t know what possessed me but I asked him to dance and I don’t know what possessed him but he said yes.

Up we got.

Well there wasn’t really much of an explanation. It seemed a case of follow the dancers in costume as best you can. Most of you probably know I love dancing and have been involved in traditional dance of one form or another since the age of twelve. That makes certain traditional moves easy to follow and the steps too. The dance partner – well he didn’t stand a chance quite frankly.

The moment it started I was in hysterical laughter from beginning to end. Billy Bunter the slender looked demented . His chic spiked up hair was having an evening all of it’s own and so were his baggy shorts. He was doing his best dance wise but went consistently wrong again and again.

You remember I said that drink had already been taken? That side of the evening did not stop whilst dancing. oh no!

The dancers had brought gallon after gallon of sparkling cider with them. There was a cast off where everyone went under an arch and followed the leader up to the top. Once at the top each couple had to tip their heads back and cider was poured in … from a height. To stay relatively dry you had to swallow. Then they launched you as a couple galloping down the centre. Despite the length of the set we passed the cider imbibing three or four times. Each time it goes to you head and adds to what has gone before and then you have to gallop – hopefully in a straight line.

It is categorically one if the funniest dance experiences I have ever had and I have to thank that lovely man for looking so whacky and joining in so badly but with great gusto . That image still makes me smile to this day.

Chippenham is such a lovely festival . That great combination of a town that really seems to embrace having such a thing as a festival as opposed to the resentment you can almost feel in some places. I’m sure there are some people who hate it in Chippenham too but for me it has a really nice feel good factor about it.

I have been going there, with various artists, over the years dating from when it used to be Chippenham and Laycock festival and from when Dick Stanger was the organiser.

If the Old Swan played there we’d usually have a band curry before the gig. It’s enjoyable not just because of the food but because due to our disparate living locations we don’t tend to see everyone together unless there’s a gig and at the gig time is usually tight so that you’re into the thick of it before you know it and people one end of the stage don’t get a chance to wander up the other for a chat. We used to joke that Neil, our bass sax player had been in the band 10 years before he was introduced to everyone. With an eight piece band and a large stage you can imagine how that might be possible. So having a meal together feels like a luxury and we’ve managed to do that at Chippenham most times we’ve played.

One of the funniest things that happened at Chippenham was when Token Women we’re playing. We played quite a lot in our early years and luckily for us Dick seeemed to love us and booked us again and again.

We all know how bank holidays at this time of year can vary in the weather but the one I’m talking about was a scorcher. The dances in those days were in the Neald Hall which is right in the centre of town. It’s a small civic hall with no air conditioning and very little ventilation.

There have always been great dance crowds at the festival and so the evening dances were heaving. As the dancers heated up the temperature soared. Someone had some kind of temperature gage and at one point the stage was on 90 degrees.

We had planned in advance and most of us were in light dresses or suitably non thermal clothing. Our cellist was in a strapless black dress. Very lovely. Another member of the band, our oboe and bassoon player, had recently married and her hubby had come to the gig but spent most of the evening in the wings of the stage as the rest of the Hall was so cramped. At one point glancing in his direction I noticed his eyes had a fixated look about them and his face an expression of panic. Tracing where his eyes were locked onto he appeared to be staring at Kathryn, our cellist. On examining her intently it appeared that during some exuberant bowing Kathryn had moved one way and her dress had stayed were it was or twisted the other way. The consequence was one of her breasts had popped out and that’s what Charles was looking panic stricken about. He obviously didn’t feel he could run on and rectify the situation but neither did he want to make too much of a fuss in case the whole room suddenly became aware. I managed to indicate to Kathryn the problem and without dropping a note or missing a beat she did an amazing shimmy motion with her shoulders and a little bounce and the normally secreted breast popped back into it’s hiding place. The audience were non the wiser but I was so amazed that I had to add breast juggling’ to the band CV …only joking but I am telling you that was a very impressive skill.

Another time Kathryn and I were doing a duo set at this very same festival as well as Token Women playing. Just before going on stage the compère came up to me and said, ‘excuse me for asking but you’re not pregnant are you.?’. I said no I wasn’t and I obviously looked rather baffled because he felt he had to explain himself. He said, ‘it’s just you look so radiant . I was still baffled when I went on and so told the story to the audience who thought it was funny. In hindsight that might have looked like I was trying to humiliate him. I wasn’t I was just genuinely stunned by the question. Surely just saying ‘you look great’ would have been enough.

Another musical quote in the title. You tell me where this one is from.

All things are evocative of other times when you’ve lived a relatively long time and travelled a lot. Taxi’s whilst often worth their weight in gold can also provide terrifying experiences. Consequently they may come into other blogs as we go along.

This morning I am sat in the airport in Madrid and have been driven to the airport by a little, round, baldy, lane dodging driver. I got here perfectly safely but the combination of the drive and Madrid put a ‘Freyja’ experience into my head especially as I spent several hours yesterday with the guitar player in the band Belen de Benito.

‘Freyja’, for those of you who don’t know, was an absolutely crazy idea I had to put a band together of female instrumentalists from across Europe. In addition to the band we eventually ended up with we had the most fantastic organiser and administrator, Kerry Fletcher and later on a tour manager Dave Groom.

If we assume that most members of the band could sing, which they could, the focus was on female instrumentalists often hidden in other bands.

We had been booked to play in San Marino a little Italian principality. One of the administrative nightmares with Freyja were travel arrangements. Several people coming from different countries. The other factor was we couldn’t just arrive and play. We needed festivals to give us at least an extra day to rehearse together and get ourselves into top form for the concert. San Marino had complied beautifully and arranged for us to fly in two days early, sorted accommodation for us and rehearsal space too. Fab – more of that later.

First the journey. From what I remember of this one most of us were flying in but Dave had driven there with a mini bus as we were due to go on somewhere else for other concerts. He drove their with Jo May, our percussionist, so that she could have everything she needed for the concert and also he drove the CDs and my bass clarinet. This meant I was flying into Bologna airport on my own with the rest of my instruments.

It was an evening flight due to arrive in Bologna about 10pm and then there would be a two hour drive to San Marino. I was told there would be someone from the festival to meet me.

Well I stood in the airport and stood in the airport as the trails of passengers moving on began to diminish and then there was only me. Quite conspicuous with a huge case containing tenor sax, clarinet and whistles and a smaller case with the soprano . I had been calm for quite a while and then just started to feel annoyed. I know British punctuality can be an issue in other cultures and that it doesn’t hurt to let go of that a little bit but with two hours still ahead of me I was not keen on hanging on longer than necessary. Fortunately I knew Dave would already be in San Marino so I rang him….more than once. The first answers were reassuring me that the festival had promised that there would be someone there … then that there was …  and then apparently they couldn’t find me. As the only person standing there I can only imagine I had accidentally pulled my cloak of invisibility over me and all my cases and made myself totally inconspicuous. Other possible imagined scenarios – that he had been given the name Jo Freya but had not been told I was female. Jo in most other cultures is assumed to be male. Anyway – no one there!

In the end Dave managed to convince the festival that something had gone drastically wrong and they said get in a taxi.

Whilst the taxi driver looked like he relished the idea of a £90 fee (worth a lot more then) he wasn’t looking forward to the journey back on top of dropping me off.

So it was classic Italian driving – foot flat to the floor and in the fast lane of the autostrada. Most of it actually involved the front of our car sitting in the back seat of the car in front. That’s what it felt like. As I have always struggled with car sickness or motion sickness as it’s now called I usually look straight ahead which helps. Not this time. I resolutely looked out the side window watching the lights wizzing by and up at the stars and prayed a bit. It was not the most enjoyable journey of my life but we got there. Dave was waiting and the taxi was paid and I flopped into bed in my hotel room with a rehearsal due to start at 10am. That was when the fun began.

As everyone else had flown in we’d arranged to hire a double bass for our Hungarian double bass player Eva Vavrinecz. My bass clarinet had come from England in the van and I suppose we could have brought a double bass from there but it didn’t seem sensible to have one cooking through the journey there and back. Eva was understandably anxious about not having her own instrument to play.

We met up over breakfast. Lots of laughter and hugs and the jokes began about the double bass. Had anyone seen one? No. Off we went to the rehearsal space hoping it might be there. Was it there? No. Dave went running off the the festival organisers and we started a few things with poor Eva just having to listen.

Eventually Dave came back out of breath but saying they were bringing something. When they turned up they turned up with an electric bass guitar which as you know is not the same instrument at all. They said they couldn’t do anything about it now until after lunch when one would arrive but could Eva manage with the bass guitar until then. The poor woman had no choice. Despite never having played one she could work out the intervals and where to pluck it and plonked away through the morning rehearsal. we still managed to laugh and have a few jokes.

The other thing about San Marino we discovered is that they took the obligation to feed us very seriously and after several courses of a delicious Italian lunch most of us had to resort to triple espresso to even contemplate getting through the warm afternoon without dozing off.

Back we went to the rehearsal and jokes started again. ‘I bet they’ll bring one but it’ll have no strings’, says I. Never ever ever joke about theses things. The double bass was there in a case and sure enough…it had strings but they just weren’t on the double bass. It was brand new and had never been strung. Absolutely impossible to rely on an instrument that hadn’t had time to settle and had never been strung or played. Back it went to the hire company. A couple more hours went by and we had about 1.5 hours left of the rehearsal and it was the day before the concert. The men who arrived looked utterly stressed out and panting. ‘Great’, I said, ‘Thank you. At last we have the second double bass”. Sweating one of the men who could speak English said ‘No this is not the second, this is the third. The men were rushing so much with the second one that they damage it’s neck on the door frame on the way out of the music shop and had to leave it there and come with another one” I am not making this up..you couldn’t. The final and third bass was definitely old and played in because it had the most god awful rattle that was impossible to get rid off. Eventually Eva played the concert with that final double bass that had foam attached to either side with some string to stop the rattling. I cannot tell you how relived we were that she managed to play and we were very thankful that she kept her cool as did the rest of us and we still managed to have fun.

I seem to remember that after that Eva resolved never to travel without her own bass.

Photo Eva Vavrinecz 1996 Official ‘Freyja’ photo.

Freya made two Cds: ‘Freyja’ and ‘One Bathroom”

The Blowzabella festival at the weekend was sublime but like all these things it brings to mind both good and bad experiences from the past. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would say that some festivals and musical experiences merge in your brain after a while especially if you are returning to a place or festival you have been before but others have specific memories attached to them that will never go away. Most of mine are good and then there are occasional ones that get stuck in the memory for not so brilliant reasons. Within all that the music carries on and that part is usually the happy experience . Certainly last Friday and the whole weekend was. I thoroughly enjoyed performing the concert itself. It’s the things that go on around those appearances that make for the not so good memories.

I wouldn’t be British if I didn’t mention the weather at least once in these blogs. At Halsway this weekend past we had it pretty good except that the evenings were cold,. In particular the Friday night. As it was a concert in the marquee there weren’t loads of heated dancing bodies to raise the temperature. So I went on stage with a long sleeved cotton T’shirt underneath a silk shirt on top of which I was wearing a cashmere jumper. To round it all off I had a quite heavy blue suede jacket and scarf. (I originally spelt that as swede and had to look it up! I can read the words perfectly but I can’t always draw them to mind to spell them correctly for myself.) Anyway..as a consequence of doing an impersonation of a Michelin man my top half was toasty. My bottom half, under thin trousers, was frozen and took until 4am to thaw out. Despite that as I said the event and the concert was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. So really i am using the weekend to trigger various weather related memories ..not all weather ones.

This put me in mind of a Token Women gig at Shepley Spring festival many years ago. It was an astonishingly cold May and wet and windy. On that occasion I went on stage and played all night wearing two jackets. I’ve never had to do that before or since thank goodness and the gazebo that was the green room for artists took off in the high winds and landed in the next field. No-one was in it and nothing damaged.

Then there was one of those Towersy’s when a hurricane came over. Packie Bryne had decided to retire, for about the tenth time and was doing his final concert on the Monday night, with myself and Ralph Jordan in the concert marquee. What ever possessed me to wear white I’ll never know but white was what I had planned and white was what I wore. Many people had given up and gone home by the time of the farewell concert. They couldn’t face another night in a sodden tent and had packed up and gone in search of hot mugs cocoa, walls and hot water bottles. So picture a marquee containing approximately three men and a dog and a howling gale outside. Probably a few more in than that but you know what I mean. The PA was still working. A miracle in itself but what was weird, from a stage perspective, was the marquee swinging from left to right and giving the distinct impression that it might take off at any time. It was quite extraordinary and I felt quite sea sick. Packie was on fine form as always and we all had a good laugh….I even managed to stay relatively mud free despite the poor choice of clothing colour.

In Italy there’s a place called Casale Monferrato. Blowzabella have had two extraordinary experiences there. The first time we went we arrived the night before we were due to perform. The main stage was in this beautiful open air court yard. Everything seemed idyllic especially as we were given, food and beer, told where we were staying and all we had to do was relax. So we did. As light faded and the twilight zone took over monsters we weren’t expecting entered the court yard in their thousands. Mosquito’s. As I sat watching the concert the man in front of me, who was wearing a white shirt, began slapping his back, you could see he was covered in them. When we were talking about it the next day we were told that about ten years previously they had planted rice fields around the outside of the town and so the mosquito hell was born. I got off relatively lightly but others were not so lucky. Jon Swayne had huge blisters on both ankles and and to go off to hospital. He was given some kind of clear fluid in a bottle that he had to apply at regular intervals. The guys were sharing a room that night and as the bottle wasn’t particularly distinctive, especially in the dark, Ian Luff started to drink it thinking it was water when over come by thirst in the heat of the night…..no harm done fortunately. His insides were just cleaner.

But then there was the music. What I remember so clearly about that first time was the screaming at the end of our concert. The crowd went absolutely crazy and no doubt the sound was amplified by the walls of the courtyard, They did not want us to stop. To the point that I was almost scared they would mob the stage but with it I have to say it was one of the most exhilarating memories of my life. To have created that level of excitement was extraordinary. During the show I used to sing an unaccompanied version of ‘The Maids of Coolmore’. As I opened my mouth and began the notes on the first word ‘from’…a mosquito flew in. I had a coughing fit and managed to say the words Zanzara…I’d learnt that one pretty quickly.! I coughed, swallowed the zanzara and carried on resulting in a standing ovation for my resilience more than my singing although they love the canzoni in Italy.

So many years later, after we’d reformed, we went back to Casale again. I lathered my body in anti mozi stuff and in we went. Not a court yard this time but a piazza with covered terraces all the way round edged by pillars. You know the type, shops set back under the terrace and some nice marble flag stones etc.

The first part of the concert went well…although there was some very obvious biting going on and then, on what had been the most beautiful scorching day, the heavens opened. On an open air stage you have no choice but to run for cover so we grabbed the instruments and crammed into the terrace behind the stage. As most of the audience had tried to get in as well we decide to carry on playing acoustically. The funny thing was I had the CDs with me. As we’d flown to the gig we didn’t have huge numbers of products and the crowd seemed to get a whiff of that fact. Consequently I kept getting tapped on the shoulder by people frantically waving money at me and pointing at the CDs…I’d play a few more notes and the same would happen again. They loved the fact we carried on playing regardless and we sold everything we’d brought with us, trousers, underpants …everything. Only joking…all the merchandise was gone.

I’ve got a dreadful feeling that that was the same place where we got taken by Maurizio Martinotti to a fabulous restaurant. Maurizio played in a lovely Italian band called La Ciapa Rusa, is a real foody and prides himself on finding excellent taverna’s serving the best of local produce. This was one of those. They served the most exquisite rabbit ravioli but Dave Shepherd’s had a tiny shard of bone in it which went straight into one of his teeth …or something like that. If he reads this he’ll have to tell you exactly what happened. Any way the poor man was in agony. Not much chance of sorting it out either until he got home.

I have found some ‘La Ciapa Rusa’ on Youtube. Mauritzio is second from the left on the black and white photo that comes up near the beginning. Still a great friend of the bands…and a phenomenal lover of cheese!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaXUGqByj9o

Some of you will be muttering Jo the first half of that title shows your age. My younger readers will be going, ‘what?’. It was a single released in 1977 by Althea and Donna. One of those quirky one off hits. Anyway, something about Upton popped it into my head and last weekend Upton-upon-Seven was top ranking indeed. In terms of the song referred too..well there are worse ear worms to have and it could make a good name for a tune or a band.

Upton was my first festival of the year and I had the good fortune to go there for the first time last year. As some of you know I run my own little agency ‘HareMusic’ mostly to book out bands I’m in but also to try and help some friends get gigs as well. I have never had agents clambering at my door for any of the acts I’m in and so it has always made sense to do it myself. Judging by the flurry of emails and messages after HareMusic went live this is a situation many artists and bands find themselves in. Most agencies want to take on artists that are guaranteed to return a certain amount of money for the amount of work involved. Understandable but leaves many behind even where, as in my case, the artists themselves have a relatively high profile. It’s the way of the world. It was an agent who said to me years ago, ‘you’re ahead of your time Jo’. Twenty years later I am still left pondering what he meant so if you have any ideas then do let me know.

How refreshing then to receive an unsolicited message last year from Upton saying….I heard a little rumour that there is a new band that is going to be essentially carrying on once Coope Boyes and Simpson stop and are you taking any gigs yet. The band she was referring to is ‘Narthen. Barry Coope, Lester Simpson, Jo Freya and Fi Fraser. I said yes and the preparation began.

Many may know that this isn’t a completely new band. We have been doing Christmas shows for a long time in this format but it seemed logical to develop our material and do more gigs spread out throughout the year as Lester an Barry would have more space with CBS out of the diary. Narthen now being ‘not just for Christmas’.

We did all the prep, we practiced lots (we always do) and we turned up at Upton for our first gig which was in The Star in the afternoon. We were all absolutely bricking it…as the phrase is (where does that phrase come from – don’t look it up it’s not pleasant – I’ve just looked. It basically means you are so nervous you can’t hold on to your bowls……ENOUGH….we weren’t quite that bad) . Don’t think I’ll use that phrase again.

I have realised over the years that most audience members don’t think I get nervous. That is because, like many performers, you become very skilled at hiding or covering it up. Unless you tell the audience your buttocks and legs are shaking they are unlikely to notice – unless you’re wrapped in cling film only or tight fitting Lycra….god forbid. The only time it truly tells is in the voice. If you really are that nervous then your vibrato picks up speed and can prove difficult to control. I have a very specific memory of that happening on the main stage at Cambridge Folk Festival with The Old Swan Band. I was very young and had to sing but I could hear the nerves in my own voice and that made me even more nervous. You can understand why some artists apply moderate amounts of alcohol, or not so moderate, in order to relax them and keep the nerves under control. This is not unique to the folk world by the way. There was a study done recently of orchestral musicians where it showed just how many of them take beta blockers to suppress their nerves in pressure situations.

I found, as years rolled by, that I am far less nervous in front of very large audiences than I am where they are small but perfectly formed and can see the whites of your eyes. There’s a certain anonymity that comes with large stages. If you have the time to take your stage cloths off before wandering the crowds after the gig the chances are that no-one will recognise you unless they know you – although do remember to put some cloths on! The anonymity is helpful to my state of mind. I can picture the main stage at St Chartier in the days when gigs were still in that village and in the grounds of the castle. Massive audiences but, apart from the nervous build up which is a different thing, it was a great thing to be part of, looking out at that sea of tiny bodies going on, it seemed , forever and the nerves just disappeared once on that large stage.

On smaller stages it’s the willingness of the audience to go with you…enjoy your humour, laugh at your jokes, respond audibly to the music, heckle, and you see the smiling faces etc that can have a calming effect if I am not calm at the start. Fluidity is a weird thing when playing as I have moments when I go rigid, this is where I got a sudden moment of terror about what I’m doing. (It doesn’t happen when singing – that’s a cold chilling sweat when you think you’ve forgotten the words or you think your voice is sounding horrible) I have found a new way of dealing with the instrumental side which works wonders provided the situation is correct. I concentrate on what another member of the ensemble might be playing. That sounds strange in terms of focus but as I am exceptionally well rehearsed it helps put you physically back into automatic mode until such time as you are calmer. The best time comes when you are both calm and relaxed and this allows you to improvise and extemporise freely, in appropriate places, giving the audience that night a unique experience. If the rigidity gets the better of me audiences are occasionally treated to improvisation or extemporising that was never intended !! You can tell those when you spot musicians looking at each other with a raised eye brow or a wry smile as if to say…’hmmmm interesting!!!’

I used to play with a cellist who smiled when she made a mistake. What a brilliant way of looking like your enjoying yourself even when you have played something unintentionally ‘crunchy’.

So there we were, Narthen, last year on stage and doing our thing. This is where you come to realise, if you haven’t already , that there is a huge difference between practicing and rehearsing. Practicing is great but nothing prepares you for the live version of what you are doing other than a live version of what you are doing. The nearest you’re ever likely to get is if you can have a rehearsal set up, as you would be on stage, with a PA. Most of us can’t do that. You have to have that stage set up and go through it again and again before you truly get used to how any band sounds and feels when it’s on stage. Throw into that mix a completely new repertoire, a PA that doesn’t make you sound like your normal rehearsal space and the same applies. You have to play it and hear it live to know how it feels and to know how it will be received, just because you love something doesn’t mean an audience will……although I do have to say as a little aside – I don’t make music to please. I make the music that feels right for me and I do feel lucky that I am able to do that and that many do seem to like it.

The truth was we got through that first performance and there were some really good moments and there were also what we refer to as ‘out of trouser moments’ I.e. exposed and feeling vulnerable. Everyone had been nervous and we headed straight for the bar on completion and downed a drink very quickly. It was also, due to the extra Adrenalin, completely exhausting …but we had to keep our selves going for the evening performance.

This year it was Moirai. My trio with Sarah Matthews and Mel Biggs. This was so lovely for us particularly as it was the first festival that Mel, the baby in the band, had ever been to as a child and also one of Sarah’s favourites.

As this blog is mostly about nerves I should say that giving yourself the best chance at being relaxed is a good idea I.e. arriving in plenty of time. Organising food if it’s going to be tight fitting it into your schedule etc. Wearing your lucky pants, shoes etc Some of you will have seen on Facebook that I back fired on that slightly by driving to the wrong Kinnerseley where my accomodation was. An hour in the wrong direction and then back. But I had built in enough time to do everything I needed which included getting a meal.

I think the most enjoyable part of Upton this year for me was our concert in the church. What a beautiful location…..and of course churches love saxophones. I was pretty much switched off, microphone wise, for the whole thing when on sax, just so the other instruments could be heard. I think it helps in reverberant acoustics to be in a band without percussion. It doesn’t suit all line ups or instruments. But the church was full and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Upton itself was full of sunshine in the day and Morris dancers in various very colourful outfits and all ages. Dancing was everywhere. The town has a river with pubs alongside so people come in for that and enjoy the free spectacle of the dancers who are out all day long. I mentioned on Facebook too that there was no drunken aggressiveness. I saw some people staggering at various points in the day which could have been to do with too much sun or drink or both but I never once heard and angry voice or loud mouthed swearing. I’m sure that the good people of Upton have their bad days like we all do but for me it was a lovely experience.

One of the things that added to that was that I stayed in a lovely little pub in Kinnerseley (the right Kinnerseley) . The Royal Oak. All musicians and travellers can tell stories of places they have stayed and usually for the wrong reasons rather than because they’re lovely but I’ll save some of those for another blog. This one has nicely fitted out rooms in a one story outbuilding. The pub has some nice hand pump real ales as well as lots of other good quality beverages and they do food. If their breakfasts are anything to go by I would imagine the food is good. It was beautifully peaceful in the mornings setting me up for a day of fun festival activity. So thanks Upton.