My father in law once said you need the hide of a rhinoceros to get a living as a singer in the tough northern pubs and clubs, like you do. And in truth he was right. I know I found folk club performers rather precious (no names - most of them are my dear friends) in their inability to work through and attempt (at least) to assert themselves in periods when the audience isn't giving a hundred per cent attention.

I was a bit surprised when several of the Irish singers who delivered uproarious folk club nights, didn't go on to make a fortune in the brief period of the Irish theme bar explosion. Entertaining those noisy audiences is a definite skill. Its not a skill that is universally respected - some radio programmes won't feature artistes that demean the sacred cause of folk music by doing pub work.

The folk club audiences generally were initially very tolerant. However when the traddy/contemporary split got bitter and bloody there were some very uncomfortable scenes.

Singers who had grown up in the gentler times of the 1950's and 60's found places like high octane showbiz places like the Boggery in Solihull were still booking them for their name and fame, but they were a noisy audience and not automatically respectful.

Similarly I can remember when I started out, not being made specially welcome in the singaround traddy clubs of the 70's and being banned from the Grey Cock in Brum, because they'd asked me my influences and when I said Ralph McTell, they said - well we've got to draw the line somewhere.

the truth is if you want to perform - you work it out as best you can; you make your own space - even if its only in your own head. no one can do it for you. When I started teaching, my first headmaster said, its up to every teacher to work out his own salvation on the floor of the classroom - theres no earthly reason why a roomful of people should work for you, just because you call yourself teacher. Singings a bit like that.


In the Penguin book, poets of the Thirties the introduction said - the real achievement of these poets was that they fantasised an audience - they carried on debates in little magazines (read by only a handful of people) with all the intensity as if they were debating before a packed Wembley Stadium.

As the Paul Brady song says - 'these things we do to keep the flame burning.'