SORRY FOLKS—BARRELHOUSE BLUES WOUND THINGS UP IN DECEMBER 2007, WITH JOHN GOING OFF TO LIVE PERMANENTLY IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE (LUCKY BUGGER!) THE BAND HAD A GREAT FAREWELL GIG AT THE RIVERSIDE IN BRADFORD ON AVON, WHERE IT ALL STARTED ALL THOSE YEARS AGO.
GRAHAM AND ANDREW ARE STILL AROUND AND PLAYING. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE OLD BAND AND WHAT ITS MEMBERS ARE DOING NOW—GO TO ANDREW’S WEBSITE: WWW.ANDREWBAZELEY.COM, FOR CONTACT DETAILS.
Read on to find out what you missed! ...
barrelhouse
blues
What was Barrelhouse Blues?
It’s difficult to think of a short definition. However, there have been one or two different “Barrelhouse” bands in the West Country, so some sort of attempt has to be made, to avoid confusion.
Barrelhouse Blues was an acoustic trio who performed chiefly around Wiltshire, Bath and Bristol (with a few rather bold expeditionary adventures) from late 2000 until December 2007.
In all, the band played around 250 gigs in that time. Bearing in mind all three members did other things as well, if that didn’t make them one of the “hardest working bands” I don’t know what does!
But it was what the band was about, rather than what it achieved, that needs a bit of explaining.
In a way, there’s a bit of a paradox here: the band appeared to be loose, easy-going, fun-loving, unsophisticated (in terms of gadgets and technology) and, it has to be said, a bit too long-in-the-tooth to be worried about fame, fortune and commercialism (would have been nice, though!).
There were, though, some very firm and important guiding principles, albeit never written down or contracted.
THE MUSICIANS
John Hillary: vocals, harmonica, guitar, kick-bass, jug, kazoo, whistles etc.
Andrew Bazeley: vocals, guitar, slide guitar, banjo, ukelele, jug, whistles.
Graham Ball: vocals, mandolin, guitar, kazoo, whistles
The music
The songs were to an extent undefinable as a genre, but were for the most part old American blues songs from the 1920s ‘30’s or ‘40s. These were sometimes “skiffle” versions from the 50s, and were augmented by a sprinkling of more recent rock ‘n’ roll, soft jazz and one or two home-made variations.
But regardless of any patterns and deviations in song-choice, it was the delivery that made Barrelhouse so singular, and redolent of times gone by. Electronic enhancements were steadfastly avoided, even though this caused frustrating variations in balance, and nightmares for some sound engineers. On more than one occasion, when stage crews have asked “what do you need?” and the band has replied “ 3 chairs and 7 microphones”, a roll of the eyes has been the response. But the result was almost invariably absolutely fine and – importantly - authentic. As most other gigs were successfully self-engineered, the band always adopted the attitude with professional sound engineers that if we could deal with the feedback, you should be able to!
The worst of these occasions was the first “official” appearance at The Village Pump Festival. The sound-man reacted in the usual way, and made it clear he wouldn’t be responsible for any feedback, as you couldn’t possibly (with a 1000-watt system!) amplify
three acoustic instruments with microphones. Halfway through the set, it became apparent that he had fallen asleep.
The whole point of the microphones was about faithfulness to the musical origins: if you’re trying to perform 75-year old songs on old acoustic instruments, and trying to convince a sceptical audience that this was still a good way to do it, you just had to avoid the temptations of adopting problem-avoiding electronic gizmos. It made it hard work, and it also meant you had to sit down to play, as you couldn’t risk waggling about too much in front of the microphones. There were also problems like playing two instruments (guitars, jugs, kazoos) at the same time.
The instrument line-up (referred by somebody once as “an arsenal”) was also crucial. There have never been any “and what novelty instruments can we use for this song?...” discussions, but all the band members have continuously brought along new instruments and gadgets, to keep a sense of variety, fun, and – again – keenness to approach live music in the way the old “street bands” did in the Southern States in the early part of the 20th Century.
All this was quite baffling to many of the pub landlords and engineers: how can a so-called “acoustic trio” possibly need so many instruments and so much space?”
The space issue has been a recurring problem. There have been one or two pubs in particular (despite playing them regularly) where the band have had to disturb people in mid-meal in order to move their table to make way for the band and all its instruments.
Probably the worst was The Hobgoblin in Bath (to whom – despite the following – the band are hugely indebted for giving them some of their earliest gigs). They had to play in a very narrow space just inside the door, but even worse was the fact that they had to start by moving customers away, then carrying the tables down into the basement.
There was another pub in which punters would steadfastly block the way for the band’s entrance with its instruments and speakers, despite consistently (and sometimes intentionally!) having their backs and legs bashed.
The sounds and songs the band wanted to convey pretty much dictated the instruments chosen: guitars, slide guitars, mandolin, banjo, harmonica and ukelele: augmented by typical “jug band” instruments like kazoos, stone jugs, whistles, and John’s essential bass drum.
So this was the Barrelhouse Blues ethos: old blokes, acoustic instruments, and – for the most part – old songs, played in the way they would have been played and sung way back in the early 1900s.
Having a laugh
The final ingredient in all this was the humour. If you listen to the two live CDs (studio CDs were never contemplated, as they would have totally missed the point) you’ll hear it. It took absolutely nothing to start someone off laughing: there were no rehearsed introductions or links, but so many of the ad-lib intros put someone in mind of a story or a corny pun.
Most likely to generate silly comments were John’s attempted American dialogue and animal listings in “Rock Island Line”. Equally silly were the introduction to the otherwise heartwarming “Georgia” (which was always pronounced “Georgial” in Bristol), and the intro to “Another cup of coffee”.
There were many occasions when songs were held up because of a fit of the giggles, but only one when the band had to actually stop a song after they’d started it (I can’t for the life of me remember what it was now).
I honestly think the audiences got the jokes and/or liked all this – if they didn’t, they were polite enough not to show it! Either way, it made the whole thing even more enjoyable for the group: it was the sign of a band of people truly happy with each other and with what they were doing.
And then there was the “pub singing” It probably all started at The Rising Sun in Bradford on Avon. Dave Northeast’s jukebox there is legendary, and makes setting up and clearing away almost a pleasure. At one of the first gigs the band played there, John and Andrew started doing the old “pub singer” to some of the songs. It became a regular feature, and either aroused the curiosity of punters before they started playing, or let them know afterwards that they couldn’t give a **** and were having fun ayway!
One of the funniest occasions was at The Castle in Bradford on Avon. When the band arrived at this rather inauspicious venue (it is now about to be “upgraded”) there was a gang of very young and very drunk kids, who were clearly ready to take the mickey out of whoever was barefaced enough to play live music and destroy their forthcoming slumbers and/or scrapping.
As soon as the banjo came out, the writing was on the wall. Wherever the band goes, the unpacking of the banjo meets with “can you play duelling banjos?” The band probably could have done, but steadfastly refused to. On this occasion, the band seemed to be slowly winning these kids around, but the “duelling banjos” jibe never stopped. In the end, they gave in, but only on condition the audience themselves sang the two echoing parts. This they did, with such enthusiasm that Barrelhouse never actually played anything!
At the finish, they gave a huge round of applause, agreed not to beat us up, and bought some CDs.
On another occasion, one of the local toughs kept asking for “duelling banjos”. During the interval, it was agreed that playing it just might avoid a beating, so they played it for him just after the interval. At the end, Graham eagerly approached him and pointed out that we’d played it specially for him. He said “yeah – it was crap”!
But the real essence of Barrelhouse Blues was the people in it: you could try to do all the things mentioned above, but without exactly the right people being together at the right time in their individual lives, it just wouldn’t last, or be such fun and so successful.