Should I Stay Or Should I Go?
For as long as I have spent my last weekend in July in the grounds of Cherry Hinton Hall there have been two distinct groups of people enjoying the Cambridge Folk Festival: those that sit and those that wander.
I have always been in the latter group, always looking to cram as much in as I possibly can, endlessly moving from stage 1 to stage 2 and from the club tent to the Guinness tent continually looking for (and nearly always finding) the essence of this festival. Theoretically, it used to be possible to see everyone. Not all of the sign ups in the club tent of course but, when the festival started at six o'clock on the Friday, when more artists played over the weekend and when there were not as many showcases it would have been achievable. Not that I ever managed it, there was always someone you bumped into and had a chat with and that was half an hour or so gone or someone who was just too good not to see until the end.
The people who sit all day have always seemed to have it easy. They need to get to the site early doors to get their spot. They have all the essential furniture to carry; the chairs and the blankets, the cool box and the paperback, the umbrella in case it rains and the sunscreen in case there's not a cloud in the sky. There they would sit, in the same spot, all day. Sitting without regret about who they were missing on one of the other stages; moving only for a comfort break.
Last year I decided that I would attempt to see the whole programme - an artist would "count" if I saw them for fifteen minutes, sessions could be excluded as could the sign up slots in the club tent. Then the festival organisers scuppered that plan. A fourth stage, The Den, located a good distance away from the main site was the unplayable curve ball. I decided, reluctantly, that the only thing to do was to cross over to the dark side and for eleven hours I stayed in one place.
With its six o'clock start and ten o'clock finish Thursday would have been cheating. The line up on Friday was promising but there were artist on in The Den and Club Tent that I had promised to see and the same reason meant that Saturday was not possible either. So, on Sunday I took a seat at stage 1, blocked out what was happening elsewhere and settled down to enjoy the day.
Hearing Abigail Washburn is as good a start to a Sunday afternoon as you could want. I had seen her the day before the festival in London where she really impressed me. Washburn is a banjo player who is not scared to use keyboards, loops, and a trumpet (all played by Kai Welch) to enhance her more traditional sound. Unusually for me, I like this contrast very much.
Jigs and reels, reels and jigs; I still don't know the difference and that may well be why I am not a massive fan of Celtic fiddle music. However, after seeing Frankie Gavin and De Dannan on Saturday I was looking forward to hearing six times All-Ireland Fiddle Champion Martin Hayes and Chicago guitarist Dennis Cahill play. Hayes knows exactly what his audience wants to hear, or at least the speed they want it played at. He starts fast and just gets faster as the set goes on and I was left wishing that I had seen them over on stage two the previous day.
Last year Port Isaac's Fisherman's Friends played the Thursday night here. Like many this was the first time I had heard them and, like many, I fell in love with them (and I'm sure they could make some innuendo laden remark about that statement). Old and new shanties plus other nautical themed songs are linked by the sort of jokes you'd hear in your local. Ten voices, accompanied by only guitar and accordion, is powerful stuff and their take on Show of Hands' 'Cousin Jack' is one of the most moving performances of the whole weekend.