Chapter 4: Will she ever stop her rambling and get on with it ?

Gypsy is pregnant by Will but she doesn't want him to know because he's happy with Dani, who thinks Sally is after Will but she's really just trying to get Will and Gypsy together. Meanwhile Hayley is angry with Noel because he kisses Vinnie's sister we never knew he had who has already chased Alex who Brodie is after. Confused, you won't be, after the next episode of Home and Away…Read on…

Well, after Port Fairy and the excitement of finally seeing Superstar Rory McLeod on stage, it was down to Melbourne for a well-earned rest. Is it just me or do other people suffer from festival fatigue? It usually hits me the third night-I intend to stay up for all the sessions and singarounds that get going at around 1am when all the concerts have finished and the pubs are trying to close, but I tend to conk out at about 8pm. Maybe I'm getting old…

Melbourne is actually a beautiful city, and a real relief after the heat of Perth. Melbourne has it's own version of Camden in a suburb called Fitzroy but I stayed in the more subdued North Fitzroy, a gorgeous area, (lovely architecture - many of the houses from the 1920s, some old working men's cottages - I want one! - and the occasional old industrial building) right opposite Edinburgh Gardens full of green (yes GREEN instead of burnt yellow-brown) grass and deciduous trees just beginning to change colour. I mean, don't get me wrong, red gums are lovely, but you don't realise how much you miss the familiar until it's there again in front of you. It's not until you find yourself breathing out that you realise you've been holding your breath all that time. (that was metaphorical, for all those people wondering how I've survived for a month without oxygen, so please don't take it literally and try it at home!)

Getting to grips with the city centre didn't take too long. The main public transport network comprises of tramlines running in and out of the city centre. Although it is slightly annoying that the tram stops display no timetable or description of the route of the various trams that stop there, and when you get on there is nothing to explain which kind of ticket you should by, they win out over London buses in two main areas. Firstly, because they don't stop while selling tickets to each person getting on and because you can't park on a tramline, they are very regular and rarely delayed. Secondly, there is the cunning numbering of tram stops, so that it's a lot easier to find where to get off. I lived at stop 21 of route 11. Grand, eh?

I headed straight to the library to see if there was a folk magazine for Victoria, in the same way that the Town Crier covered the folk scene in Western Australia. But I was disappointed, so it was back home to put on my deerstalker hat and cape and search for clues. It turns out that there is very little in the way of active folk clubs in the Melbourne area. However, thanks to Danny Spooner and Gail, I did manage to get out to a club in Guildford and had a wonderful evening - everyone meets in a pub and most have their evening meal there too. The guest was a woman who was touring quilting clubs singing quilting songs (but the punters graciously allowed her to broaden out for the evening in question) and the performances from the floor were rich and varied.

But what Melbourne lacks in folk clubs, it more than makes up for in sessions. And what sessions! I mean, I love a bit of fiddle myself, but 19 Scottish fiddlers in a room with only one quiet mandolin for company and that played by a learner who is usually another fiddle, all struggling to keep together? How was I to know that Melbourne is home to an active Scottish fiddle group? Besides, not all sessions were like that - one session had 12 fiddles on one side and 8 flutes on the other, like some kind of surreal musical battle! Wonderful tunes but it made me realise how important a good guitar player or three can be to underpin a session with interesting chords deep enough to fill out the sound and loud enough to keep everyone in time. Oh oh, here she goes complaining again! No. Actually I had a great time - I'd really missed sessions while in Perth.

St Paddy's day was a little bit of an anticlimax. I'd heard people went mad for it in Australia, but if they were, they were doing it somewhere else. I was in The Quiet Man for the afternoon where I knew there was to be a session with some excellent musicians (and not all fiddlers!). But there was a lot of waiting around while everyone struggled in vain to find a space, and then they'd only played a few tunes (and beautiful they were too) when a band started playing outside the pub with a huge PA system and drowned them out with it's 'Wild Rover' and 'FINE GIRL YOU ARE!' shouted into the microphone already set at a decibel level contravening most strategic arms limitations. I wouldn't have minded if there had actually been any people out there listening to them. What can you do?

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, had an incredible evening with the Scottish Gaelic Choir of Victoria. Huge turn out to an evening workshop on a weekday in Canterbury in the pouring rain (Yes Melbourne has English weather too) and game to try anything. Obviously an active group, they even had a small library of publications available to learners of Gaelic language or song.

I also checked out a couple of concert cafés in the city. I saw Lunasa at the Continental (delicious meal and fantastic chocolate desert thingy) and The Fagans with Nancy Kerr (told you I was addicted) at the Troubadour. This latter is obviously the place to be seen on the folk circuit. If there was a folk equivalent of 'Hello' magazine, this is where they would come to snap the celebs. Amongst the famous artists in the audience that night (apart from myself of course!! I wish!!) was Martyn Wyndham-Read himself. And Martin Pearson (fabulous Ozzie performer - very funny) was serving the food and taking the wine orders. Classic!

Having discovered the joy of radio in Western Australia, I checked out the local scene in Victoria and wasn't disappointed. Terese Virtue runs the folk show on the local PBS radio in Melbourne, a community radio station. A great presenter, she also runs the Boite World Music café, hosting bands from all over the world, and runs a small choir called 'Thursdays Children' who meet regularly in Brunswick, Melbourne. All this on top of a day job-when does this woman sleep? Paul Petran runs a show from Melbourne called 'Music Deli' for ABC radio, broadcast nationally, and that's also worth checking out. And there's a host of smaller stations with their own folk show such as Spectrum radio the other side of the Dandenong ranges.

Finished off my stay with a gig at Olinda Hall for the Dandenong Ranges Folk Club. Location was beautiful. Amazing mountain scenery, great restaurants and pubs and some lovely places to stay. Bit worried at first because an unusual format and miked up even though only a small hall. But it was great. A small village in the middle of nowhere, and the first meeting after their summer break, and it was still packed out. A great audience and some wonderful floor spots. The support act was a 17yearold girl who had just won the songwriting competition at the Dandenong Ranges Festival. People who know me will know of my overwhelming revulsion at most singer songwriters who strum their guitar and sing songs about how lonely they are and how no one understands them. But she was wonderful - Dido eat your heart out. Watch out for this girl -great voice, interesting arrangements and drop dead gorgeous - don't you just hate people like that.

So, all in all, not a bad city for a folkie to hang out. Had a fantastic time and best of all, I finally learnt the truth about possums - they may seem cute and cuddly and you may think 'ahhhh' when you first see one, but when they live inside your wall in a nice nest they've built, full of stale piss and shit, I'm sure you'll be the first to call in the exterminators!

Happy travelling!

TARA Alias POMEGRANATE www.geocities.com/pomegranatefansite

Places mentioned in this episode:-
• Troubadour Music Café, 432 Church St, Richmond, Melbourne. Performances almost every night and you can eat there too - where else could you see Martin Pearson in a pinny? Phone Sheena for info - 03 9428 2966 Or email [email protected]
• Continental Café, 134, Greville St, Prahran, Melbourne. Regular bands in a more intimate setting. info 03 9520 2788 or see www.continentalcafe.com.au
• Scottish Gaelic Society Victoria See www.geocities.com/scottishgaelicvic or email Ron McCoy at [email protected]
• Boite café, Fitzroy, contact Therese Virtue 03 9417 3550 Or email [email protected]
• Dan O'Connell's, Alexander Parade. Pub with regular Irish bands, Saturday nights
• Molly Bloom's, Port Melbourne, sessions Monday nights.
• Irish Murphy's, sessions
• Guildford Folk Club, meets Wednesdays, contact Danny Spooner 03 5348 2201 or email [email protected]
• Dandenong Ranges Folk Club, meets Olinda Hall, Monbulk Road, Dandenong Ranges Contact Bernie Lobert 03 9754 1408 Or try emailing [email protected] or [email protected]
• Dandenong Ranges Festival, annual folk festival, 2nd or 3rd weekend of March.

  Down under Folk Diary Chapter 3

  "But what about all those festivals?" I hear you ask. Patience...patience...I'm getting to that.

  My first Ozzie festival experience was at Nannup, a beautiful little town about 3-4hours drive from Perth. I was given a lift down in a bright red open top sports car-talk about travelling in style. As soon as I arrived, I ran off to explore the bush. Have you ever watched 'Home and Away' or 'Neighbours'? (I know you've all done it at one time or another, whether you choose to admit it or not!) Well, since I arrived I've been taking in the odd show, just as a scientific exercise, to help me get to grips with the culture, you understand. And one thing I noticed is that Australians have a real thing about 'the bush' - their eyes become all misty with emotion when they talk about it, and what every little town dweller wants to do most, when they have time off, is to pack up all their things into the back of their 'ute' ('utility vehicle' - it's a kind of little truck or van) and go camping. Could never understand it myself. Why would I want to sleep on the ground and get bitten by mosquitos when I could be at home with central heating and a futon? But there I was in Nannup and suddenly it all made sense. I wandered for hours along an abandoned railway track, shaded from the heat of the sun by the jarrahs and marris (trees!), grass up to my knees, the smell of lemon-scented gums in my nostrils, passing little babbling brooks, and watching with delight the brightly coloured Rosellas (parrots!) preening themselves in the bushes.

  I came home to the place I was billeted bubbling over with excitement, eager to show my hosts all the little things I'd found and bursting with questions. They were horrified. You see, I'd forgotten about the SNAKES!!! There's not really anything poisonous or scary in the UK, apart from the people. But here they have snakes and spiders like you wouldn't believe (my next hosts delighted in showing me a book full of glossy pictures of tiger-snakes, red-back spiders and funnel-webs) and so everyone knows to follow a few basic rules. Never walk in long grasses where you can't see where you are putting your feet. Most snakes won't go out of their way to bite you, but treading on them can really piss them off. You should never go walking so far without telling someone your route first and an expected time of return and always stick to the path. Otherwise, if you get bitten, how will anyone find you?

  But somehow I managed to survive until the festival started. The streets were crammed with art and craft stalls and a particularly delicious Thai Green Chicken Curry vendor (that's the curry that was delicious rather than the man selling them although he wasn't bad either). A small festival by Ozzie standards, there were still nine different venues all competing for your attention. It's hard not to take it personally when people walk out during your set but we were all doing it. There was just so much stuff I wanted to see that I ended up running round all day seeing about 3.5 minutes of each show. Not really a satisfactory way of doing things but so difficult to choose. The Miles to Go Band played an fantastic set to a marque with only 20 people in because everyone was crammed into the Town Hall(and gathered around the windows outside) to see Ted Egan (legend in his own lifetime geezer from the Northern Territory who sings and plays an empty larger carton!). Alistair Hullett was amongst the performers over from Britain. There were a few organisational hiccups but enjoyed myself nevertheless. Highlights? The one after-hours session that finally got going, a band called Duchas over from Ireland, and the swimming pool at The Lodge, which was given over to the exclusive use of performers over festival weekend!

  Next it was off to Port Fairy Festival. Tickets to PFFF sell out within 2 hours of going on sale every year. Apparently they mail out all the people who have bought tickets the previous 2 years, and woe betide you if you have chosen just that week to go away for a few days because if you don't send your ticket order by return of post, they'll be gone. And if you haven't managed to get a ticket for two years running, you're off the mailing list. It's ruthless! Every year a few thousand people who haven't got tickets, still come along and swell out the town, taking in the peripheral events and generally enjoying the vibe. I was dreading it! What if it was one of those festivals like a couple in the UK I won't mention, that has become a victim of it's own success? And if I had experienced problems getting to everything I wanted to see in a small festival like Nannup, what would it be like here? It's also a place known for it's huge CD sales. What if it was too commercial?

  In the event, it was fantastic. Huge and busy but very sensitively programmed. Artists who were new to the festival were put on in one of the main marquees on the first evening in introductory concerts - and I can tell you, it's a daunting experience performing between Nancy Kerr and James Fagan and Flook - which allowed the punters to check out the artists and decide which ones they were going to follow round the festival over the next couple of days. They had also taken great pains to avoid clashes between items of similar appeal. This meant that a radical lesbian feminist who only wanted to watch all-girl singer-songwriters could go along to the festival with her sandal-wearing, bearded, folkie older brother into sea-shanties and trad fiddle tunes, and both could have the time of their lives in two totally different festival experiences. There was also a well-organised team of discreet volunteers keeping it all running smoothly. For example, keeping the aisles clear so that the packed thousand-seater marquees still had safe fire-exits, without becoming too heavy-handed and militaristic. Thoughtful little touches here and there (like pot-plants on stage behind the performers - who thought of that?) meant that the atmosphere never got too impersonal despite the vastness of some of the venues. The programme booklet was well laid out and easy to navigate and I was incredibly impressed with the whole thing.

  Audiences here take a bit of getting used to, especially after the demonstrativeness of people in South Africa. There are no chairs in any of the venues so everyone carries around their own mini deck-chairs (someone must be making a fortune selling those things - I'm in the wrong business) and there are rules about where you can put them to allow for all those people like me who have only their bums to sit on. So people tend to come into a venue early, grab a good space and sit there all day come hell or high water, guarding their territory and reading the paper whenever there's a band on that they're not particularly interested in. They sit there silently, even though you are throwing your best jokes at them, pulling out all the stops. You try everything but nothing seems to move them. They just sit and look and listen. Then at the end, when you think you might as well give up singing and wish you'd stayed at home and listened to your mother and become a plumber or a chicken-sexer, they all rush up to buy your CD, tell you how brilliant you were and book you for their local clubs. Bizarre! The lesson is, don't be put off. They may not be dancing, whistling and shouting and throwing their babies in the air, but it doesn't mean their not enjoying it in their own peculiar way!

  Highlights would have to be Nancy Kerr and James Fagan on fiddle, viola, bouzouki, guitar and voice. Fantastic arrangements of traditional and original tunes and songs and also a wonderful interplay between the two performers. A family next to me actually commented that they come time and time again just because they like watching the way they spark off each other. Embarrassed myself by fawning. Couldn't help it. When you witness gods in action, how can you help but worship? Oh dear, she's raving again. I have to admit I'm in danger of becoming a sad groupie. I even bought a CD and those who know me will know how unusual that is when I'm travelling. I never made it to the breakfast with Tibetan monks because on the way I was distracted by the Liz Doherty Band with some lovely guitar arrangements under the fiddle, andGino Lupari his inimitable self on bodhran. Danny Spooner was also good value, leading sea-shanties outside on the wharf and explaining their uses. Always wanted to know what a Capstan is? There was your chance. Eric Bogle was there too. This is the man who wrote The Green Fields of France, a song so famous that everyone thinks it's a traditional Irish song. So famous that not only is there a widely sung parody of it, but even the parody has had a song written about it. It always amazes me to find legendary people like that still alive, let alone still up there wowing huge audiences.

  I had heard criticisms that this was very much a listeners' festival - set up your little baby deck-chair in front of a stage and then don't move till the festival is over - and that it fell down by not having enough space for informal sessions. However this wasn't my experience. It's true it's not the sort of festival you go to if all you want to do is dance but, for those who want to play, there were little sessions going on at most of the pubs in town when I ventured out on the Saturday night. And when the pub closed at 1am, we successfully smuggled the non-camping musicians into the campsite and continued till the wee small hours in the Lodge. A great evening, and a gorgeous fiddle player from Melbourne, but that's another story...

  But enough of this trivia. What about the really important stuff? The toilets. Suffice to say, I never once had to queue, and I never visited a toilet that had run out of paper. Magic! Mind you, each loo had this amazing metal dispenser that held 13 toilet packs! Festival organisers take note! On the other hand, the tap-water in Port Fairy is completely undrinkable. It's never happened to me before. Couldn't even use it to rinse out my mouth after brushing my teeth, it was so foul. Bring plenty of your own water with you when you come or find rain-water source.

  The New School Hall also deserves a mention. A great new venue, wooden floor good for dancing and excellent acoustics, fine for singing even without the microphones set up at the front. Workshops and storytelling in there were great. The only disappointment of the whole festival was the 'folk-singalong' advertised in the programme, which I thought would be an informal singaround with ordinary punters getting the chance to contribute a song. In the event, the brief was a round robin with the guest performers leading chorus songs from behind microphones, so there was only one song from the floor. But only one tiny gripe from a whinging pom is a pretty amazing achievement. A number of people have since said 'well Port Fairy should be a lot better than other festivals because it has advantages such as being run by a private company and a bigger budget.' In my experience, paid staff and a big corporation are no guarantee of success and I think PFFF deserves hearty congratulations for a job well-done.

  Gosh, that sounds awfully grown up and serious. Don't worry, I'm sure it's just a phase. See you back here next month for instalment four, covering the Melbourne Folk Scene, St Paddy's Day - Oz style, Kapunda Celtic Festival and The National Festival in Canberra...can't wait...

  TARA

  X

  CHAPTER 2 -- The Next Exciting instalment from Down Under

  So. Australia?

  Well. What did I know about the place before I came here? Fair dinkum, streuth, digeridoo, kangaroos, koalas and the duck-billed platypus. So, not much then?

  Arrived in Perth, almost a month before the first gig, to get a handle on the culture before I kick off. Perth proves wrong that old biblical adage about building on sand as the whole city rests on the stuff. The first thing I noticed is that, while all the public transport (buses and trains) in the city is free, it costs 30cents to take a slash. Yes, ALL toilets charge. Which somehow gives everyone who uses them just the excuse they need to stuff handbags full of toilet paper to get value for money. And the toilet paper in this country isn't run of the mill either. It's all scented! At first I thought that it was a weird but harmless idiosyncrasy of the couple I was staying with, but then I discovered that you can't get away from it-every little square full of perfume. Made the mistake of blowing my nose on some when I first arrived - been sneezing ever since. And it's not as if you get a choice of perfumes-maybe 'pine fresh' (read 'disinfectant flavour') or 'lemon zest' (read 'washing-up liquid flavour'), or even 'fresh mint' (read 'toothpaste'). No. In fact, it doesn't even tell you on the packet that it is scented - it's just taken for granted here. Which of course begs the question, 'are Australian arses smellier than English ones?' But I'm digressing.

  First day here, got in touch with the organisers of the Unaccompanied Singers' and Reciters' Club in Perth, namely Ken and Connie Kenny, to find out when next they would meet. Before I know it I had been kidnapped and declared one of the family. And before you think 'Kenny?Mackenney?could be!' I found out they open their house to many of the artists who come through and, without them, many of the visits by British artists would probably never happen. Great people!

  So what else? Well the Perth Arts Festival was already underway, so I headed down to the Council Building to pick up my Busker's License. After all, how else was I going to pay for all those trips to the toilet? Watched some inspired free shows from 'Ellis and Mbeki' from South Africa. Also caught the 'Durban Township Boys' doing gumboot dancing etc. Funny how I had to come to Australia to see indigenous South African artists. For most of these young kids, it was their first time outside Natal. Exciting, eh?

  Last week, witnessed an exciting concert in Freemantle. (Freemantle is part of Perth like Hove is part of Brighton, and it is where all the arty-farty types hang out.) An t-eilean Mor, who got together several years ago to sing songs in Scots Gaelic, were performing a selection of beautifully arranged mouth music alongside a band called Cianan who were singing and playing tunes, some trad, some their own. The numbers were strung together with little readings which helped the whole thing flow, and the audience couldn't get enough of it. Though far from perfect technically, the energy of the performances was spectacular, and I personally lost my heart to one of the boys from Cianan. Why? Because his voice was fantastic, he plays Appalachian dulcimer, violin, cittern, mandolin and guitar, makes pipes and wrote the fantastic tunes, but most of all because he's cuddly with dark eyes. But before you all stand up to fight me for him, the bastard's already married and his beautiful wife was there too. Bummer.

  So what about the folk clubs, I hear you ask. With the exception of the Peninsula Folk Club, most clubs are difficult to reach unless you have your own transport. I checked out the Hills and Armadale as well. All pleasant informal singarounds (and the buttered cinnamon toast at the Peninsula at half time is unmissable!) Each club has an even balance between participating performers and folks there just to listen and enjoy. All very hospitable and welcoming but suffering from the usual curse of dwindling numbers.

  Went Irish set dancing on Sunday. It was unlike classes I've attended before where you just turn up, dance with a load of septuagenarians who totally show you up by being fitter and faster than you, and then go home totally whacked. Here guests each arrived with some kind of dish, then we sat around and chatted, danced, ate, danced a bit more and then chatted again. A mother and her son; a man and his wife, his young child and his parents; a few singles; and one couple, some experienced and some just interested, made it a great mix of ages and interests, and people swapped in and out with gay abandon. Didn't get much dancing done but had a lovely evening.

  Yesterday (Monday) was a lazy day. Stayed in listening to the radio-The Planet, Acoustic Roots, and The Folk Show. 6 hours of pure heaven. The local folk rag has a useful section keeping you up-to-date with the prolific folk-interest radio programmes. In professional terms, most of the hosts were terrible, (mumbling, burbling, uming and ahing, and speculating on whether or not an artist would one day tour in Oz who in fact had been dead for more than 20 years!) but the selection of music was wonderful and, after all, that's all that really matters. It's a real shame that there is nothing like this available to audiences in London these days. I guess it's up to us to make it happen.

  Signing off now. First Ozzie concert tomorrow. Wish me luck.

  TARA MACKENNEY (alias Pomegranate)

  www.geocities.com/pomegranatefansite

  [email protected]

  Clubs mentioned: -

  • Unaccompanied Singers' and Reciters' Club - meets infrequently. Contact Ken Kenny (08) 9274 5170
  • Hills Folk Club - 1st Friday. Contact Pauline (08) 9291 6026
  • Armadale Folk Club alias Falls Farm Folk - 3rd Friday. Contact Murf (08) 9454 6144
  • Peninsula Folk Club - every Friday, contact Joe or Lotte (08) 9401 1424
  • Irish Set dancing - Sundays. Contact Ken Kenny above.

  Other useful info: -

• Town Crier - Bimonthly folk mag for Western Australia-what's on and where, reviews and previews. Contact Rob Oats (08) 9375 9958 or email [email protected]
• Busker's License (currently $22) available from the government building on St George's Terrace.
• Freemantle Market - to busk for 45 mins, ask at the office.
• Irish Club, Subiaco - sessions Mondays
• Highland Bagpipers meet 3rd Saturday in The Senior Citizens Club, corner Beaufort and 10th Ave, Inglewood, Perth.
• An t-eilean Mor -- meet Mondays and do occasional concerts. Contact Jane or Steve (08) 9293 5367

  (Tara, an unaccompanied traditional folk singer from London, has just toured the Southern hemisphere and is now back on top. She will be in France till August, then back in the UK. See homepage for details.)

  Thank you for your interest. The CD (see music page) was very experimental - more fun than anything else, and due to demand from audiences wanting to buy something to take home at the end of a gig, so it?s not exactly representative of the kind of material I do, but it can give you an idea of voice etc. The picture on the front is me, but I have aged considerably since it was taken 27 years ago!

  I sing unaccompanied mouth music for dancing and traditional ballads from Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England, Brittany and French-Canada, in Scots Gaelic, English, Welsh, French and Breton, and teach workshops in the above at festivals, parties, clubs and in schools. Accolades include winning the title of British Lilting Champion in 1997.

  Examples of gigs so far include:-