Notebook

Monday 10th May
St Georges Hall, Bradford.
I have a special feeling about this place - it has to be one of my favourites. The whole sense of occasion I felt when Steeleye played at St. George's Hall as the last date of the 'Reunion Tour' back in December 2002 has stayed with me ever since. Realistically, this time round I was prepared to find myself perceiving the place and the event quite differently and see it in another light - through eyes inevitably coloured by an added sixteen months of living and performing. In truth though, it wasn't that much different at all, and the night still had plenty of the same sparkle I associate with this venue.
When I came off stage from the sound check, I was greeted by Tim Moon who has a folk show on the local BCB radio station. We've been trying to organise an interview for some time now and at last here was our opportunity. We took ourselves and Tim's recording equipment into dressing room 2, where I proceeded to condense my life story into a time capsule of about ten minutes. I'm sure there was something I left out.
Good to see familiar faces, as in - Keith Mitchell and his partner Liz. Keith lives in Leeds these days but manages to travel to Preston every Wednesday to run, by the sounds of it, a very successful open mic / singers night at a pub called the New Britannia. Also good to see Ian and Alan from Blackpool.

Tuesday 11th May
The Winding Wheel, Chesterfield.
Got hit with a rather high and unexpected phone bill when checking out of the Bradford Hilton. One thing I've learnt is; before I go spending any time on the internet always find out what the charges are at that particular hotel. The fact of the matter is that when it comes to telephone calls, pretty much all hotels in this country fleece you, and so far this year, my experiences of Denmark, Italy, New Zealand and Australia have only strengthened my view that the way one is charged here for local calls is outrageous. In Australia, often there's a maximum charge of something like two dollars - you can spend all day surfing for that (if you've got nothing better to do). When I arrived at the hotel in Bradford yesterday, I noticed a sign stating that the Internet was charged at 10p a minute, so I asked the lady at the reception desk if there was anything else I needed to know. She inquired as to whether I had my own laptop, and then told me about the modem socket on the back of the telephone in my room. Sounded straightforward, and I managed my on-line time accordingly. As it turns out, the charge - as illustrated - only applies to their own Internet service on the hotel television, consequently, I was being charged their normal phone rate; a whopping 49 pence per unit.
On arrival for the sound check at 'The Winding Wheel' I thought that potentially we could be in for some sound problems - the hall seemed very 'live' and 'cavernous'; in particular, I felt the people up on the balcony might struggle to hear us clearly. There was no need for concern - in the end this has to rate as one of our best nights.
As a result of receiving a sheet of paper with a printed, and very earnest request, we slipped 'Mantle of Green' into the set between 'Si Begs Si Mor' and 'Drink Down the Moon'.
Amongst those in attendance tonight were friends: Ashley Hutchings and Paul Smith.

Wednesday 12th May
Day off / travel to Exeter.
A largely uneventful day - setting of from Chesterfield at midday and making the reasonably long trek to Exeter - arriving at the Gipsy Hill Hotel at 4ish. The hotel seems to be in the middle of nowhere, which is kind of nice in one respect - it promising lots of peace and quiet. What you discover is that the quieter the surroundings, the louder the creaks of the floor boards, the more jolting the slam of the room doors in the corridors, the more piercing and shrieking the voices of the cleaners are first thing in the morning, and the more intrusive next doors television is.
This is the second time I've stayed in a place called Gipsy Hill, the first was in an area of Greater London - south east London to be exact, only that was (and still is) spelt 'Gypsy Hill'. I lived there for four years from 1975 to 1979 on the top floor of a house that was also inhabited by friend and fellow musician Pete Zorn. It was an incredibly eventful period of my life having signed recording deals first with CBS and then Polydor records, a period so full of opportunity that if I were to describe all the circumstances of that time, to the reader it could appear to be one of great fun and excitement and that everything and anything was there for the taking. The big problem was that, on the inside, the 'mechanics' and the necessary components one needs in order to function in the outside world, and to develop relationships - business and otherwise, were not within me. From the point of view of confidence and self-esteem, I was equipped to deal with very little. When I listen back to some of the music I wrote and recorded back then, I'm often amazed by it's quality - amazed that such cohesion could've existed and been expressed by someone in the midst of that much fear and confusion. Now, so often I hear people - apparently envious of youth, expressing the desire to be young again - I can't easily understand that. Without doubt, I'll take middle age any time.
Despite all of the above angst though, I have a real fondness for Gypsy Hill, and especially remember, when darkness fell, the sight of London with it's shimmering lights in the distance.

Views from Fowey

On an earlier occasion I found the aforementioned garment
on display at the merchandise table - apparently on sale.
The road crew really think they're funny, don't they!

Page 9 Steeleye Span 'World Tour' Diary 2004
Monday 10th May St Georges Hall, Bradford. I have a special feeling about this place - it has to be one of my favourites. The whole sense of occasion I felt when Steeleye played at St. George's Hall as the last date of the 'Reunion Tour' back in December 2002 has stayed with me ever since. Realistically, this time round I was prepared to find myself perceiving the place and the event quite differently and see it in another light - through eyes inevitably coloured by an added sixteen months of living and performing. In truth though, it wasn't that much different at all, and the night still had plenty of the same sparkle I associate with this venue. When I came off stage from the sound check, I was greeted by Tim Moon who has a folk show on the local BCB radio station. We've been trying to organise an interview for some time now and at last here was our opportunity. We took ourselves and Tim's recording equipment into dressing room 2, where I proceeded to condense my life story into a time capsule of about ten minutes. I'm sure there was something I left out. Good to see familiar faces, as in - Keith Mitchell and his partner Liz. Keith lives in Leeds these days but manages to travel to Preston every Wednesday to run, by the sounds of it, a very successful open mic / singers night at a pub called the New Britannia. Also good to see Ian and Alan from Blackpool.
Tuesday 11th May The Winding Wheel, Chesterfield. Got hit with a rather high and unexpected phone bill when checking out of the Bradford Hilton. One thing I've learnt is; before I go spending any time on the internet always find out what the charges are at that particular hotel. The fact of the matter is that when it comes to telephone calls, pretty much all hotels in this country fleece you, and so far this year, my experiences of Denmark, Italy, New Zealand and Australia have only strengthened my view that the way one is charged here for local calls is outrageous. In Australia, often there's a maximum charge of something like two dollars - you can spend all day surfing for that (if you've got nothing better to do). When I arrived at the hotel in Bradford yesterday, I noticed a sign stating that the Internet was charged at 10p a minute, so I asked the lady at the reception desk if there was anything else I needed to know. She inquired as to whether I had my own laptop, and then told me about the modem socket on the back of the telephone in my room. Sounded straightforward, and I managed my on-line time accordingly. As it turns out, the charge - as illustrated - only applies to their own Internet service on the hotel television, consequently, I was being charged their normal phone rate; a whopping 49 pence per unit. On arrival for the sound check at 'The Winding Wheel' I thought that potentially we could be in for some sound problems - the hall seemed very 'live' and 'cavernous'; in particular, I felt the people up on the balcony might struggle to hear us clearly. There was no need for concern - in the end this has to rate as one of our best nights. As a result of receiving a sheet of paper with a printed, and very earnest request, we slipped 'Mantle of Green' into the set between 'Si Begs Si Mor' and 'Drink Down the Moon'. Amongst those in attendance tonight were friends: Ashley Hutchings and Paul Smith.
Wednesday 12th May Day off / travel to Exeter. A largely uneventful day - setting of from Chesterfield at midday and making the reasonably long trek to Exeter - arriving at the Gipsy Hill Hotel at 4ish. The hotel seems to be in the middle of nowhere, which is kind of nice in one respect - it promising lots of peace and quiet. What you discover is that the quieter the surroundings, the louder the creaks of the floor boards, the more jolting the slam of the room doors in the corridors, the more piercing and shrieking the voices of the cleaners are first thing in the morning, and the more intrusive next doors television is. This is the second time I've stayed in a place called Gipsy Hill, the first was in an area of Greater London - south east London to be exact, only that was (and still is) spelt 'Gypsy Hill'. I lived there for four years from 1975 to 1979 on the top floor of a house that was also inhabited by friend and fellow musician Pete Zorn. It was an incredibly eventful period of my life having signed recording deals first with CBS and then Polydor records, a period so full of opportunity that if I were to describe all the circumstances of that time, to the reader it could appear to be one of great fun and excitement and that everything and anything was there for the taking. The big problem was that, on the inside, the 'mechanics' and the necessary components one needs in order to function in the outside world, and to develop relationships - business and otherwise, were not within me. From the point of view of confidence and self-esteem, I was equipped to deal with very little. When I listen back to some of the music I wrote and recorded back then, I'm often amazed by it's quality - amazed that such cohesion could've existed and been expressed by someone in the midst of that much fear and confusion. Now, so often I hear people - apparently envious of youth, expressing the desire to be young again - I can't easily understand that. Without doubt, I'll take middle age any time. Despite all of the above angst though, I have a real fondness for Gypsy Hill, and especially remember, when darkness fell, the sight of London with it's shimmering lights in the distance.
Thursday 13th May Daphne Du Maurier Festival, Fowey, Cornwall. Started off too early for my liking - a journey of about one hour and forty minutes before reaching Fowey at 2pm, this left us with a good six hours to kill before the show, and although there are few places than this I'd prefer to be with that kind of time on my hands, it still equates to hours of 'hanging around'. More than anything, this is a festival of 'arts and literature' rather than your average 'folk' event, and takes place for a period of more than a fortnight, boasting such guests as: John Sergeant, Michael Mansfield QC, Gerald Scarfe and Esther Rantzen. I just wish I had the opportunity to hear some of these people speak. The organisers took good care of us - the food was pretty good; my crab salad was first class - well, if you're going to eat sea food I guess a Cornish fishing village is just the kind of place to do it. We performed to a full house, and the show went very well. Various friends were there to witness it, including Ralph (McTell) - wearing a rather nice suede jacket he'd apparently purchased in Spain. We reminisced a little about our time in Australia, and I felt a bit guilty explaining that the ukulele he bought me is still sitting in Richard's (Australian promoter and tour manager) house somewhere 'down under'. Had a great surprise today; when we played in Liverpool last Sunday, I explained (as I usually do) the background behind the song 'They Called Her Babylon'. Two women were apparently sat in the audience who's husbands had written a book that details this very story, so they posted a copy to Park Records, and today it reached us in Exeter. The book's called: "The Better Soldier" - The First Siege Of Latham House, 1644. Authors: M. B. Williams and M. J. Lawson. It's great to receive something like this - and it also makes very interesting reading.

Views from Fowey

Friday 14th May The Hawth, Crawley. Stayed in Exeter again last night which lessened the time it took to make the drive east to Crawley today. The fact that the weather's starting to get very pleasant, in one respect, makes some of these these journeys much more bearable, in another respect, the bus tends to get a little stuffy, so then we have to start fiddling with the bus's ventilation, or air cooling system. This system is not without it's flaws. Firstly, there's only one set of controls for the back two rows of seats, and different people often seem to have different requirements, so when one person's asking for cooler air, another is complaining that it's too cold. Secondly, the way it works reminds me of what it's like taking a shower in a house with bad plumbing when someone turns on a tap in another part of the house - with all these individual vents on the ceiling, when someone shuts theirs off, what was previously a pleasant flow of cooling air that breaths delicately across the face suddenly becomes a force nine gale that renders useless any amount of time spent on your hair that morning. Another good audience tonight - and they were up for it from the word go - makes our job quite a bit easier. Lots of friends. Without paying too much thought to it, by degree as the days pass, and almost subliminally, I can sense the tour's end making it's growing presence felt.
Saturday 15th May The Guildhall, Southampton. Checked into the Dolphin House hotel - very interesting. It's an old and rather grand building, perhaps Edwardian, but on the inside all modern and somewhat Swedish. Nice and bright, but the practical side of things seems slightly compromised - it would've been good to have a chair to sit in; I'd have appreciated a soap dish in the bathroom, actually, just some soap would've been good - just as well I nicked some from yesterday's hotel. The blinds were very stylish, but I wish it had been possible to close them fully - it's definitely 'nice and bright' whether you like it or not. The concert hall is big, and with a very high ceiling, making it a challenge for anyone on the mixing desk. Patch (sound man) seemed to cope with the hall's characteristics well - certainly judging by the comments after the show. We were filmed and recorded again tonight. I guess with tonight's, and the previous recordings at Tewkesbury there should be plenty of material to play with in the editing room. I'm still not one hundred percent certain what the result will be, or when it will be, but I do know from our discussions that everyone will be proud to have a product of some kind that gives testimony to a band that feels so good to be a part of. With regards to the filming, and from a coordination point of view, tonight we had to pay particular attention to things like the position of our instruments on stage, and of course, the clothes we wore. We also had to play exactly the same songs, in the same order as in Tewkesbury. One of the things I had to do was to wear my brown jacket for the first set, but take it off for the second. On arrival back at the hotel later, Bernie (tour manager) asked if I'd picked the jacket up - which, of course, I hadn't, so he drove back to the venue to retrieve it; the venue was locked up and everyone had gone home. I know you're probably thinking what a gripping tale this is, but there's potential tragedy in the making here - that jacket cost me all of £10, or was it a fiver? I can't remember. I'll keep you posted on any developments.

On an earlier occasion I found the aforementioned garment on display at the merchandise table - apparently on sale. The road crew really think they're funny, don't they!
Sunday 16th May The Corn Exchange, Cambridge. I guess it must fall into the category of 'end of tour amnesia', but even though our time of departure was openly discussed at breakfast - and I took part in that discussion, the time that stuck in my head was half an hour behind that that we'd agreed. So, I kept everyone in the bus waiting. It was Liam who was the most unhappy at this, or at least it was he who expressed his unhappiness - somewhat emphatically I'd say. All in all, I would've wished for a more positive start to the day. Bernie had phoned last night's venue more than once this morning in a vein attempt to arrange the recovery of the jacket (pictured above); we figured particularly with it being Sunday the chances were slim. However, seeing that we had to virtually drive past the place on our way out of Southampton, then why not take a minute to stop off and make one last ditch attempt. It was worth it; after ringing the bell a couple of times, and in the process of turning to walk back to the bus, someone appeared - someone with keys who could unlock all the appropriate doors. We walked all the way through the theatre - as various individuals were stacking seats and putting them away - up the steps onto the (empty) stage - through the 'stage left' door - along deserted corridors in which footsteps and voices echoed with a certain darkness, up to the locked varnished double doors (the green room) where it seemed that - just moments ago, on the other side, a wealth of human interaction was taking place. The doors were then unlocked, and like a still life painting, an aftermath of food containers in every degree of emptiness, wine bottles, and half eaten cheeses, gave me a close-up reminder of just what last night was like - in a way that otherwise would never have occurred to me again. I remembered exactly where the jacket was hung. So with a feeling, albeit slight, of fateful anticipation, I turned in that direction - and there it was, I suppose I'd protected myself from the possibility of disappointment - and then ended up pleasantly surprised. It would've been a bit unfortunate not to have it for the last two gigs. Jackets aside, it seems that 'events' in relation to where they take place, have some kind of retrospective power, or we at least experience a perceived sense of such things. There are those who believe that all events leave a stamp of some kind in the ether; that everything is recorded - maybe physically in time. The theatre is a perfect example of this; a place where, when full, the sense of event can feel so significant. Consequently, an empty theatre is never just empty, it's emptiness can only be regarded in the context of the absence of past events. How much of this, I wonder, is an accurate assimilation, and how much might be purely subjective interpretation? Oh, the gig. I've played at the Corn Exchange once before, must be a good six, maybe seven years ago. It was one of the early Albion Band gigs - well, early for me. We opened up for Fairport Convention, and it was good night. Unlike tonight, I recall there being no seating - maybe it's in anticipation of an aging audience. This is a venue with a capacity of 1,462 and as far as I could gather we had a full house - it was one of the best nights. After the show I had the pleasure of meeting 'Mark' a South African studying physics here. He explained to me the reason - after my prompting I should add, why the number 'two' has no square root. I really wish I'd been able to comprehend it all. Mark's in a wheel chair now, the reason he explained was an accident that occurred on the day of what would've marked his four hundredth parachute jump - only, the accident wasn't during the jump, it was in a car on the way to the airfield. I imagine that most of us would see more than a little irony in that.
Monday 17th May The King George's Hall, Blackburn. Now this is how to finish a tour - at a venue just ten miles from home. We've been on the road for close to four and a half weeks, and while the others went through the process of checking into yet another hotel, I was reacquainting myself with my cat - Mavis. I've been to this hall exactly four times now, the previous visits were - first: to see Ralph McTell, that must've been about fourteen years ago, not long after I'd arrived back from my nine year stay in California. I'd just had a guitar made for me by John Hullah and he was eager to get Ralph interested in his instruments - I was just tagging along. The next time here was to see Phil Cool - that was through the 'Hullah' connection also (Funnily enough, Phil actually came to tonight's show). The third visit was in the capacity as performer. It was a beer festival and there were hundreds of people - drinking beer mostly; about ten of 'em actually listened to me - mercifully it was well paid. Tonight's show was promoted by colleague David Lewis, and thankfully this time we performed to a far more attentive audience. A large venue, and sound-wise somewhat cavernous, Patch, once again, seemed to get the best out of the situation. The set went without any incident to speak of, well, apart from Rick breaking a string on his bass. This might not sound like a big deal, but bass strings very rarely break like that, and Rick said it was the first time it's ever happened to him, or was it the first time in twenty years? Or fifteen years? Something like that anyway. Later, band members, road crew and friends came back to the house for an 'end of tour' get together, these always feel like poignant affairs - it's symbolic I guess, like a marker that draws a line between completion and whatever phase is to follow next. This is when everybody naturally seems to cast their thoughts back over the previous weeks - usually recalling the more humorous moments of the tour. Everything wound down at around 2.30am - the band and crew heading back to the hotel a couple of miles down the road - leaving me sat in the living room to reflect - alone, with a feeling I can only describe as sad satisfaction. Next on the agenda will be Ashley's 'Morris On' tour, and the next Steeleye venture is in Denmark on June 23rd. I'm looking forward to that already.


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Page 9 Steeleye Span 'World Tour' Diary 2004

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Steeleye Span 'World Tour' Diary 2004