Where: Lichfield Cathedral
When: 30.1.15
Well, I'll be! Given I had previously told myself enough was enough, drawn by the lure of the venue I found myself back at a Fairport gig. Bear in mind that this is the band I sold my teenage soul to, catching umpteen performances, several Cropredys and far too many records, between 1975 and, I think, 2008 or 9, before deciding they had become a covers band for themselves, leaving a front row seat at Town Hall, Birmingham, on a winter tour, at the interval. Expecting little tonight, I received a lot.
I have sung the praises of the Cathedral venue before, from the drinking of beer on consecrated ground, to the ambience and acoustics. I cannot say it too loud or too often, this is what these buildings are for.
First on was Kevin Dempsey, veteran guitarist of Whippersnapper yore, together with Rosie Carson, a young Ohio fiddler, with a pure stroke on said instrument and a pleasing voice. Think an english folk tradition Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodrigues. Dempsey, 73, was the first to pass comment as to the age of the audience, dedicating a song to a celebration of youth. Obviating the need for a gap, their last song brought on, eventually, all of Fairport Convention, with, as the duo stepped down, a seamless segue into Sir Patrick Spens.
This 1970 vintage song, performed solidly and faithfully, was going to be the last bit of old for the rest of the first half. A volley of songs from, and, starting with the title track from Myths and Heroes, then ensued. And it was good. Songs written by, amongst others, the now faithful coterie of "new" member, Chris Leslie (18 years), Ralph McTell and Anna Ryder, with Simon Nicol playing more electric guitar than has been his wont, with the rest of the band kicking considerably more ass than has been present for, well, ages. Similarly, either by sticking within his comfort range, or by having relaxed his larynx since I last saw him, Simon Nicol has largely stopped the excruciating gurning as he had searched for notes no longer present. Peggy has ditched his creepy Uncle Sex persona and just plays, effortlessly and consummately, with an odd ukelele bass particularly drawing the eye. Ric Sanders, unchanged, remains the gyrating, slightly irritating fiddler but Chris Leslie doesn't touch a fiddle throughout, swapping between mandolin, guitar, whistle and harmonica, both the latter new to me, and, he told me afterwards, the harmonica new to this tour. Gerry Conway, commented upon in a recent article I had read as being more played by his drums than playing, was and seemed well in control, and was. for the first time for me, seeming to be a worthy replacement for the long gone Dave Mattacks.
An interval and into a 2nd half of what I expected to be : here's some old, having instead to make do with a bevy of further songs from the new album, and a salvo from the last one, he Festival Bell, dated 2011. My attention remained held. Eventually we were gifted with Crazy Man Michael, and the re-arranged version of Farewell, Farewell, each originally from Liege and Lief, thus leaving a gap of 41 years between the old and the newer songs played, with nothing in between. To close, well, it had to be, Matty Groves, a fairly straight version, albeit with Leslie-led banjo. Encore? Need you ask, with Dempsey, Coulson and Anna Ryder, lurking backstage, all dragged on as well, the inevitable Meet on the Ledge, with the inevitable tears that song sends to my eyes.
As always, and part of the key to their enduring following, the band came out back for signing and chats. I was left with a distinct feeling of they having given themselves a kick up the arse since last seen. Having previously said no more of them, Cropredy distinctly beckons. Here's the title track of the pending LP:
