Confederacy of a Dunce

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

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A London institution is to be no more. I've already been scooped by Sarmoung who gives a brief report here (if reporting on a publically-circulated email can be called a scoop) about the imminent demise of the weekly music club "Come Down and Meet the Folks" (website still to be found here at least for a while). According to the Folks History page it's been a regular event since 1996, held every Sunday early evening (supposedly ending in the vicinity of 8pm which, in theory, allowed a full musical experience without excessive suffering come Monday morning [I said "in theory"])This Sunday will be the last Folks (at least as a weekly event, and contrary to what the "forthcoming events" listing on their website may suggest), and as it was an important part of my London experience I thought I should mention a few of my Folks highlights.

My first Folks experience was at the end of April 2001, definitely a time of transition for me as a couple good friends had packed up and left London earlier that day. Casting about for something to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon I picked up a copy of Time Out and noticed two important words, neither of which I had formerly associated with London: "free" and "bluegrass". How could I resist? The event calendar said 4-8pm so I thought I'd wander in a little after the starting time. At the time the Folks was held at the Golden Lion in Camden Town (rated 4.5/10 on b.i.t.e. with this quite-accurate user comment "...It's one of those inner London locals with little in the way of redeeming features. The pool table is tiny and seems to be monopolised by 10-year olds. It has an air of loneliness. It sounds very patronising, but you come out feeling sorry for the place."). Little did I know that the Folks didn't really start going until 6:30 or so, so there I was in a rather down-at-heel pub where I found myself in conversation with a couple of drunken, lairy locals. One of the "highlights" of this conversation (besides the predictable piss-taking of all things American) was a wacky practical joke I would urge you to play on all your friends as it's quite hilarious!!

1. Put your finger in your bottom.
2. Wipe it under your friend's nose.
3. Hilarity ensues!!

Fortunately I was neither a putter nor a wiper (I got over this fad about the age of five or so), yet somehow this delightful frivolity did not drive me out of the pub (to somewhere I could lie in the fetal position, no doubt). Eventually a less "local" crowd started to gather, some in Midwest/Southwest lowlife costumes (think "truckstop chicken", "gas station attendant", "leering guy who sits on his porch with beer and a gun", etc. And not a nice truckstop, gas station or porch either), others in full-on rockabilly costume, others who looked like they were trying to be the early Rolling Stones, and everything in between (or so it seemed).

By the time the music started, I was sold. I don't remember who all played (there has been a long-standing custom that pretty much anyone who wants to play can stand up and do a couple of songs). The main act was Foghorn Leghorn, a north London bluegrass band perhaps best known for their cover tunes (Motorhead's Ace of Spades being the one I remember from that day [and many others]). I think they're still around although it's been a while and their website doesn't appear to be in action at the moment. I don't think I met any of the "Folks" themselves (there was always a bit of tension between the Folks and the Locals, about which more later) but I decided I'd start attending regularly. Which was good indeed for me...

music

Tuesday, October 11, 2005 11:39:25 AM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)