Once more unto that corner of Oxfordshire that is forever Festival for a weekend of varied music, people, experiences and an atmosphere you get nowhere else. Simon Jones ventures to Fairport’s annual get together.
No matter what title you give it, the second weekend in August has become as essential a part of a British Summer as Wimbledon… and I don’t mean their football team. In the run up to the 2024 event there had been heavy traffic on web based platforms and chat rooms with all manner of opinion, pre-conceived notions and frankly wild ideas, you’ll be pleased to know your scribe decided to ignore the whole on line rigmarole and appreciate Cropredy for what it is and what it gives. Approach with open ears and an open mind and you’ll be richly rewarded.
So let the fun begin and it did, TRADarr whose perfect pre-festival Fringe appearance cemented their claim for a main stage slot next year. Describing them as folk rock is a little like calling Andy Murray a tennis player. He won titles and trophies to much acclaim, TRADarr deserve plaudits and far more attention. Theirs was an intelligent, pleasingly balanced and nuanced set which delivered loads more than any simple genre definition could describe. PJ Wright has assembled around him, a collective of strong, determined and skilled fellow travellers who all bring something different to the band. In Marion Fleetwood they have a vocalist who understands the folk songs they repurpose so effectively, equally she’s right at home with the thoroughly melodic and modern settings in which they’re placed. The numbers flowed, ebbed and wound together in sparkling form, the trad lyrics wrapped in contemporary clothing of a muscled, melodic rock which was stacked with more hooks than a fisherman’s tackle box. Groovy or what? They amusingly signed off with a handful of James Bond tunes. Potential? They’ve got it in spades.
“I like to let the others have their say and I’ll listen to their ideas so things can change but when I write I know what I want things to sound like,” says Kathryn Tickell of how she/her band The Darkness fit together. Cropredy provided strong evidence, if any were needed that everyone’s favourite Northumbrian piper is quite happy to be moving electronically forwards and taking the pipes into unfamiliar territory. They hang most of the tunes on traditional pegs but it’s the fills, rhythms and grooves which make them complete and lend gravitas. It’ll be interesting to see now two albums in where they divert to next.
Tony Christie may have seemed like an odd fit with Cropredy, after all isn’t he a crooner? There was a time when I’d have thought exactly that, but having interviewed the man, heard his back story and sampled his stage show, I’d gained new respect for him and his music. Thus it was I was ready for a big blow with lights, full band and plenty of pizzazz. Tony didn’t disappoint in the slightest. I confess a sneaking admiration for the eminently hummable ‘Avenues & Alleyways’ one of his hits, it was the theme for that wonderfully cheesy spy series The Protectors – starring Robert Vaughan, The Man From Uncle – back in the early 70s. Mr. Christie duly delivered it in all its OTT glory. That voice is still intact, no drop outs or changed keys here, he gamely tackled everything from lounge music, country, to pop and full on tear jerkers, each track explained before he commenced it. Given that he has difficulties these days with his memory this was a sparkling performance. Where were we Las Vegas or a field in Oxfordshire?
Mr. Christie, the consummate showman, a long way from Amarillo.
Rick Wakeman and his Ensemble were but one of a trio of prog rock acts on the roster, closing Thursday they dug deep, so deep in fact they journeyed to the centre of the earth! Keyboards dominated as you might have expected from the former Yes man and indeed he did wear a cape. Crikey! Big Big Train proved themselves worthy bearers of a more modernist approach, whilst some of their numbers were lengthy, they’d enough variety and tricks to keep the audience’s attention. Their vocalist, one Alberto Bravin roamed about the stage constantly whilst the band behind him made music in myriad forms. They’re all multi instrumentalists as well, so sometimes the drummer sang or played guitar, the singer drummed, Claire Lindley (fiddle) who I met with on the field previous to their slot informed me that one of the things she loved about playing with Train was the adaptability and fluidity of the music. Plenty of that on display. Inevitably Focus put big smiles on faces, they’d the difficult tea time on Saturday slot. Yet as the only band all weekend to yodel seriously, how can you not grin? They played a perfect rendition of ‘Sylvia,’ that lofted, brilliant guitar solo and all. The track lifted Cropredy’s spirit ten feet higher and set the crowd up for the evening.
Speaking of lengthy numbers, De Wolff came on to Howlin’ Wolf and duly informed us that they were going to perform four songs and take an hour about it. Ambitious to say the least. The trio – much in the mould of power three pieces from the early 70s – did their best, the guitarist jumped around a lot, pulled all manner of odd faces, the keyboard player summoned long sustains and endless chords and the drummer beat seven shades out of his kit. In matching Western style brown suits you might have expected country rock, but this was blues rock pushed to the boundary. Elles Bailey, has been on an upward trajectory for quite a while and her elegant set of funky blues and rock did nothing but aid her ascent. When I interviewed her an hour or so before she took to the stage she was bubbly, full of enthusiasm and chuffed to be playing a festival with thousands in attendance, “it’s been an ambition to play this event and I’m so excited to be here,” she beamed. That exuberance came over from the moment she and her sparkly coat stepped on to the boards. She’s an astute writer with an equally compelling band, she bends the blues into instantly likeable shapes and new album ‘Beneath The Neon Glow’ was well and truly plugged. The queue at the merch tent to get her to sign the record spoke volumes about her ability to hit the nail just right. She also souled up John Martyn’s ‘Over The Hill’ with wonderful ease and attraction. The lady has taste.
De Wolff – lone wolf Pablo makes his guitar howl.
The arrival of Silver Blues was one of the most eagerly chatted about amongst the gathered faithful, after all their publicity blurb stated “Two from Lindisfarne, 1 from Fairport and 1 mysterious other.” In essence it meant Ray Jackson, Tom O’Leary, Ric Sanders and Vo Fletcher. Though acoustic there was enough about these four which held Cropredy together in good time singalong after singalong. Displaying a canny knowledge of foot stomping blues, r’n’b, jazz and a fine clutch of Lindisfarne numbers in new arrangements, they delivered one of the best sets of the festival. More amazingly they haven’t recorded a note! Come on somebody get on the case, record them, they’re far too good to be playing pub gigs. Ray Jackson is the consummate front man, his repartee with the crowd was first rate and Ric Sanders smooth jazz licks added different dimensions to ‘Fog on The Tyne,’ ‘Meet Me On The Corner,’ and other north east anthems. They quite rightly came off stage buzzing, yet have their feet planted firmly on the ground, “we’re just going to see what happens, our next gig isn’t for six months,” Ray informed. Expect that to change.
In your face from the off, Black Water County got a warm welcome for their thrash driven, folk. If the Ramones were the model for a young roots band, throw in a dash of Metallica and we’re away. Their bassist shouted with gusto and energy when delivering the lyrics all about the realities of life in 2024 for those at the wrong end of society. He even shouted when he announced the next song – someone should tell him that’s what microphones are there for. 1,2,3,4 and they were headlong through another four minute, Celtic tinged, energy boost. The pace never let up and at one time I feared the drummer who was pounding way like a whirling dervish would fall off his stool – thankfully not. Just a bit of restraint on the volume, say nine not eleven, would bring out the whistle, banjo and mandolin as well as the vocals from their female singer. They were royally entertaining and I look forward to future encounters.
Hannah Sanders & Ben Savage blended their voices together as if they were in the studio round one of those big old microphones, joined by a really gentle, sympathetic band of friends, they reminded me of the prime moments of Pentangle. That same UK/US blend pulling material from the roots of both sides of the Atlantic. Hannah’s vocal is a pure delight, feathery and clear whilst Ben’s earthier tones are the perfect contrast. They wisely salt the traditional with a few covers and their own originals which sit well in a running order which slips easily from number to number. Special plaudits to their keyboard player who kept his playing feather light as an ideal counter to their vocal melodies. There’s a new album due pretty soon and given this set it’ll be excellent.
Equally delightful were Ranagri who shared an Elles Bailey depth of enthusiasm for Cropredy, “that was stunning, you could feed off the energy and appreciation,” flute player Eliza offers into the SE recording machine. “Aye that was special,” agrees vocalist/guitarist Donal “they were with us from the off.” Indeed it’s true, Ranagri got one of the warmest welcomes of the weekend and Cropredy loved every song they sang and every tune they delivered. Creating new relevance for the old songs is one strand of Ranagri’s cloth, take ‘The Wife Of Usher’s Well,’ is it a folksy ghost story or does the wife have mental problems? A point to debate for those more scholarly than me. Rangari do the same with ‘High Germany’ a jingoistic piece of campaign promotion or social problem, splitting families apart? They gleefully round on Irish music with a will and wit, the combination of harp and flute a pure pleasure when cantering through a reel or jig. It’s been a busy summer with festivals aplenty and more dates across the autumn, make note to check them out if they’re anywhere within striking distance, you won’t be disappointed.
Very sadly Trevor Horn who was booked to deliver the Friday night party slot fell ill about a month before the festival so had to pull the gig, his replacement was a very familiar face. None other than Richard Thompson who admitted he might be a little different to Mr. Horn as he appeared with an acoustic guitar for a solo set. Yet from the first chord he attacked his strings with gusto playing choice items from his back catalogue. ‘I Misunderstood,’ ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightning,’ ‘Beeswing,’ all flew by early on, clearly RT wasn’t going to rest on any laurels. Continuing the Tardis like approach we got songs from the newish ‘Ship To Shore,’ a rare outing for ‘Hokey Pokey’ – never before heard by these ears in concert – a great version of one of his less appreciated gems ‘Persuasion’ and naturally when most of Fairport joined him for rocking up of ‘Shoot Out The Lights’ and ‘Wall Of Death,’ if Cropredy had a roof it would have been blown off. Job done then and done well.
RT not Trevor Horn, nevertheless top stuff.
So to our hosts. It’s their name on the posters and it’s their festival, they’ve every right to close proceedings and yes, they still do the marathon. Not quite as long as it once was but at 150 minutes it’s still quite a feat and always they manage to pull a rabbit out of the hat. No matter how many times you catch Fairport Convention over a year and in whatever guise, since they tour in varied formats, Cropredy always seems to find them their best sound. Hats off to the crew who handled all the switches, dials and speakers, as per norm they delivered clear, balanced, clean results throughout. There was a fond tribute to late drummer Gerry Conway through a video montage before Fairport took the stage and Dave Mattacks personal reminisces mid-way through the set. The applause from the crowd showed Gerry’s memory lingers. Good to hear some songs not always featured along with the current crop of selections and those you just can’t imagine them leaving out. A couple of examples came early on ‘The Banks Of Claudy,’ learned by Mr. Nicol apparently from Shirley Collins when he played on her ‘No Roses,’ ‘Sir William Gower,’ that trad tale of mass murder and maritime woes was as powerful as ever. “Here’s a Dave Pegg number, but it’s not ‘Hungarian Rhapsody’ which has yet to make an appearance at Cropredy,” Mr. Nicol joshed before the band played ‘Bankruptured.’ I vote ‘Hungarian Rhapsody’ be resurrected for 2025! Some of the songs on ‘Rosie’ deserve a chance, especially ‘The Plainsman,’ ‘Knights Of The Road,’ and ‘Furs & Feathers.’ Why not? While we’re at it ‘Cropredy Capers’ from the much maligned ‘Gottle O’ Geer,’ as well. Decent grist all. Meanwhile the Convention continue ‘Hiring Fair,’ ‘Matty Groves,’ joined by Ralph McTell for ‘Red & Gold’ he wrote it after all and it is about village history. Really before you knew it ‘Meet On The Ledge’ time rolled round and everybody in the place joined in with the thousands alongside them in the signature sing along. As we trooped away, it’d already been announced that they’d love us all back same time, same place next year.
Your hosts extend an invitation for 2025.
Two people in front of me are jabbering away about who they’d like to see in 2025. Names fly back and forth, some possible, many unlikely, others impossible and I’m reminded that I chose to stay away from speculation and unfounded judgements to just enjoy Cropredy for its own sake. So I leave them to their deliberations and trust that next year will be just as special….. but hey, if you want a tip Fairport, The Home Service have a brilliant new album out……and TRADarr were really fab….
