THE GOBLIN BAND: Jenny Vuglar reviews a performance at Cecil Sharp House on 4 December 2024
The Goblin Band consists of Rowan Gatherer (hurdy gurdy, recorders, vocal); Sonny Brazil (concertina, accordion, vocals); Gwenna Harman (drum, recorder, vocal); Alice Beadle (violin, recorder, vocals). And what I like about them is that they make me feel as though Folk is a new movement again – something battering its way through the old, picking up bits and bobs, and imprinting something new onto it (as they do with their ‘merchandise’). What is that ‘something new’? I wondered as they sang the old songs, often in very much the old ways, and I think it’s their irreverence. They love, they don’t revere. They joke about ‘Old Cecil’, giving him their names so that he can collect them. And that’s true too. They are older than most folk these days, no smoke machines or reverb but boots thumping and a real drum. They have a slightly ‘steam-punk’ look (or is it poacher-chic?) with leather waistcoats and high necked Victorian blouses. They’re like an old sepia photograph gone awry, the people dispersing, the shadows retreating, a flickering of time. If Folk has an ‘everyman’ they are it. Their merchandise is sold in aid of trans health, they tread that creative fluidity of distorted expectations. You think you know what trad Folk is but then you don’t….
Appearances are, despite all, important but would be little without the music. The musicianship of everyone shines in this band. But more importantly they play with and for each other; and that generosity towards each other spills into the audience. We love that they love playing and love playing together. They know how to create a ‘set’ too – how to change the mood in an instant going from the wacky ‘Widecombe Fair’ (and who knew beforehand just how wacky it was?) to a gentle no-instrument harmony of voices. Variety is all important in a set and they’ve learnt that well. The deliberately shambolic nature of the banter doesn’t disguise the tightness of the playing; and the individual virtuosic moments are gently mocked in the same way that the whole Folk movement is mocked, with love. It’s so refreshing to see people playing well, and knowing they’re playing well, but doing it with an air of joy not self-congratulation. It’s why, I’m sure, Martin Carthy is rumoured to have said that they’re the future of Folk, because they rediscover the joy and communicate it so well – so well that even in a crowded Cecil Sharp Hall, people danced, polaka-ing up and down the aisle, and people sang, joining in the choruses. They’re traditional enough to be in the trad tent at Folk festivals and for their choruses to be those loved, but new enough to invigorate and bring an audience like themselves: young, creatively alternative with all its new meanings. If you think of Folk as having an audience of balding white men go to a Goblin gig.
Dec 7 2024
THE GOBLIN BAND
THE GOBLIN BAND: Jenny Vuglar reviews a performance at Cecil Sharp House on 4 December 2024
The Goblin Band consists of Rowan Gatherer (hurdy gurdy, recorders, vocal); Sonny Brazil (concertina, accordion, vocals); Gwenna Harman (drum, recorder, vocal); Alice Beadle (violin, recorder, vocals). And what I like about them is that they make me feel as though Folk is a new movement again – something battering its way through the old, picking up bits and bobs, and imprinting something new onto it (as they do with their ‘merchandise’). What is that ‘something new’? I wondered as they sang the old songs, often in very much the old ways, and I think it’s their irreverence. They love, they don’t revere. They joke about ‘Old Cecil’, giving him their names so that he can collect them. And that’s true too. They are older than most folk these days, no smoke machines or reverb but boots thumping and a real drum. They have a slightly ‘steam-punk’ look (or is it poacher-chic?) with leather waistcoats and high necked Victorian blouses. They’re like an old sepia photograph gone awry, the people dispersing, the shadows retreating, a flickering of time. If Folk has an ‘everyman’ they are it. Their merchandise is sold in aid of trans health, they tread that creative fluidity of distorted expectations. You think you know what trad Folk is but then you don’t….
Appearances are, despite all, important but would be little without the music. The musicianship of everyone shines in this band. But more importantly they play with and for each other; and that generosity towards each other spills into the audience. We love that they love playing and love playing together. They know how to create a ‘set’ too – how to change the mood in an instant going from the wacky ‘Widecombe Fair’ (and who knew beforehand just how wacky it was?) to a gentle no-instrument harmony of voices. Variety is all important in a set and they’ve learnt that well. The deliberately shambolic nature of the banter doesn’t disguise the tightness of the playing; and the individual virtuosic moments are gently mocked in the same way that the whole Folk movement is mocked, with love. It’s so refreshing to see people playing well, and knowing they’re playing well, but doing it with an air of joy not self-congratulation. It’s why, I’m sure, Martin Carthy is rumoured to have said that they’re the future of Folk, because they rediscover the joy and communicate it so well – so well that even in a crowded Cecil Sharp Hall, people danced, polaka-ing up and down the aisle, and people sang, joining in the choruses. They’re traditional enough to be in the trad tent at Folk festivals and for their choruses to be those loved, but new enough to invigorate and bring an audience like themselves: young, creatively alternative with all its new meanings. If you think of Folk as having an audience of balding white men go to a Goblin gig.