My Life in Music, Part 1

A while ago, I posted a blog on one of my MySpace Profiles. It was an early effort but I was proud of it at the time. My original idea here, was to re-post it on this blog but then I thought better of it. My life has moved on in the intervening time and there is more music that is meaningful to me. I might even be able to do some cleverer stuff with this blog, for instance videos, so I decided to start from scratch, well scratch-ish.

So back to my earliest memories. I have really vague memories of a song called Arabella or Anabella but I have never been able to trace it, so it may be a figment of my childish imagination. I also seem to remember a song, which might have been sung by Frank Sinatra and had something to do with changing the world but again, I have been unable to trace it, despite feverish Google searches. If there is anybody out there who knows what I am on about, please put me out of my misery. I need to know what these songs are

The first songs I remember that I can positively identify are Blackberry Way by the Move and Daydream Believer by the Monkees. Daydream Believer was released in 1967, when I was four and Blackberry Way in 1968, when I was five. We owned 7" singles of both of them and I sang along to them from an early age. Our vinyl Blackberry Way was warped, which led to a rather strange warbling sound during the chorus. It would sound like Roy Wood was singing "Goodbye Blackberry Wa-a-a-a-a-a-ay", with the pitch wavering during the word "Way". For years I thought that that was how it was supposed to sound and even now my CD version sounds all wrong. Ah the delights of vinyl.

My father had a reel to reel tape recorder and he recorded a tape of practically all the Beatles songs. I was not particularly technophobic and the machine held no fears for me, so I would often play the tape for my own delectation and delight. I learnt most of the Beatles songs by heart and learnt to sing in harmony from singing along. I tended to prefer the earlier songs when I was younger and would favour that part of the tape. Now, this is embarrassing for me but I'm feeling a bit confessional at the moment. I used to have two dolls, cheap versions of Sindy or Barbie. I cut the hair on one and turned her into a boy (an early gender reassignment experiment for me). I used to enact I Saw Her Standing There with the two dolls (now, that wasn't so painful after all, was it? Well, actually, it was). Here are the lyrics. You will have to just imagine a young (7 or 8 year old) Punky Rennie with the two dolls. Just to help, he had short brown hair and she had blond hair and her head would come off very easily indeed.

Well, she was just 17,
You know what I mean,
And the way she looked was way beyond compare.
So how could I dance with another (ooh)
And I saw her standin' there.

Well she looked at me, and I, I could see
That before too long I'd fall in love with her.
She wouldn't dance with another (whooh)
And I saw her standin' there.

Chorus:Well, my heart went "boom"
When I crossed that room,
And I held her hand in mine...

Whoah, we danced through the night,
And we held each other tight,
And before too long I fell in love with her.
Now I'll never dance with another (whooh)
Since I saw her standing there

Guitar Solo

Chorus

Repeat last verse

Move on a few years and we come to Glam Rock. I would be between 7 and 12 or 13 when it was in its heyday. I did like Gary Glitter (few people will admit to that nowadays) and I loved Wizzard, The Sweet, Slade, Mud and Suzi Quatro. At the time, I did not like The Rubettes but I think I was too young to spot their tongues in their cheeks. I think the appeal of glam rock was that you could dance to it (even somebody as clumsy as me) and they were, or at least appeared to be, young and cool. My Mum was a very sensible woman, who bought me sensible shoes from Clarks, with heels no higher than ½ inch. I used to admire the likes of Brian Connolly, Gary Glitter and Dave Hill in their huge platforms and weird and wonderful clothes. Also men wearing make-up - that was brilliant.

When I was 10, I got to go to a Quaker Summer School in Sibford. I was the youngest one there. Most of the kids were 12 and above (I think 12 to 14 but I'm not sure now). One lad of 14 came over to talk to me on one of my first days there. He told me his name was Simon Tilley but I could call him Timon Silly, which amused me greatly. He asked me what sort of music I was into. At that point I could have said The Bay City Rollers but my two older sisters had spent about a week brainwashing me a couple of weeks earlier and I wanted to impress, so I said ELP. He was highly impressed. A 10 year old who likes Prog Rock - amazing. I actually knew very little ELP at all at the time and I don't know much now, either. The band did not interest me at all. The bands I do like, though, due to early sororal influence are Jethro Tull (specifically Aqualung), Procol Harum (specifically Exotic Birds and Fruit) and early Genesis.

The two songs that really remind me of that Summer School are Lay Down by the Strawbs and Life on Mars by David Bowie. I met a 12 year old boy at the Summer School and I got on very well with him. He wasn't bad looking too and we spent most of the week hanging around together, holding hands, me trying to persuade him to kiss me and him telling me we were too young. In the evening, there would be a disco and we would go and waltz around the dance floor madly to whatever song was playing at the time. The two songs above got played loads of times and they stuck with me for life. Bursting at the Seams by the Strawbs was the first proper album I ever bought and I got it not long after I had returned home from Sibford. A few years ago, I bought it on CD and I still listen to it from time to time and feel very proud of my 10 year old self for having such good taste in music. I never had a recording of Life on Mars for years but every now and again, I would hear it on radio or in a shop. It would take me back years. I eventually got a CD of David Bowie's greatest hits and then I felt it necessary to ration myself. I didn't want the song to lose its power and it hasn't done.

After Prog and Glam Rock and the Strawbs, it seems a very short jump indeed to my enduring musical love - Punk. My parents sent me to boarding school when I was 11. An unlikely place to find a punk. I remember the seminal moment for me when I realised it was my destiny to be a punk. Mum and Dad were taking me back to school after a half term break. I had found an old nappy pin while I was at home and for some reason, I had pinned it onto a woolly hat of my Mum's. I was wearing the hat and pin in the car when we were driving back to school and a car overtook us. In the car were 3 or 4 punks. They looked very sharp and spiky and they noticed me and suddenly the back window of the car they were in was full of grinning faces and pointing fingers - they had seen me and were evidently amused. It was my Road to Damascus moment and I decided then and there that I would be a punk.

My first Punk record was My Way by Sid Vicious. I was a bit of a late starter with Punk and missed the early years. I can't say in what order I bought my other records but I slowly built up a small but interesting collection of 7" singles, including Hybrid Kids EP, Where's Captain Kirk by Spizz Energy, I'm in Love with Margaret Thatcher by the Not Sensibles, Simon Templar by Splodgenessabounds, Girl on the Run by Honey Bane and various others.

I started going to gigs when I was 16. My first gig was John Cooper Clarke at the Marquee in Wardour Street. I later saw the UK Subs at the Music Machine supported by my great friends, The Straps, and an early precursor of New Romanticism, Martian Dance, who I hated. I saw Stiff Little Fingers, The Boys, Splodgenessabounds 3 times and The Straps another 2 times.

I used to go down the Kings Road most Saturdays and meet up with other punks there. I also used to stalk Jock, the lead singer of The Straps, an enterprise which was made easy for me because he worked at Boy - a punk boutique on the Kings Road. I got stopped by the police with a group of punks I was with one day. The boys were frisked by a couple of policemen and the girls were asked to turn out their pockets by a policewoman. I asked if I could go over and be frisked with the boys but she said no. A girl I was with had two wristwatches on. The policewoman seemed to think she had stolen one. She could not understand why she would wear two. One was broken anyway. It made perfect sense to me. If you were a punk, you wore weird combinations. I frequently wore:

Pink Leopardskin Trousers
A short Royal Stewart tartan kilt,
T-shirt
Woolly Stripy Jumper if it was cold
Leather biker jacket with Siouxsie Sioux' face tippexed on the back, UK Subs tippexed on the sleeves and loads of badges, including, I'm proud to say, a Morris team badge.
Hankie tied round my neck, western style
Black Beret

My hair would be either black, bleached or something in between. One day and for one day only, it was green.

For some reason, I became disillusioned with punk. I briefly flirted with the idea of being a skinhead and then I'm not sure what. I started going out with a Teddy Boy, though, and got my first taste of Rock'n'Roll.

I'd heard songs by Elvis Presley and could recognise Buddy Holly, The Everly Brothers and Bill Haley and his Comets. Pete introduced me to stuff I hadn't heard before, like Johnny Kidd and the Pirates, The Cascades, Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, Connie Booth and loads of others. We used to go to The Hampton Court Palace in The Elephant and Castle. Upstairs they would play music and people would dance - jive, bop, stroll. Downstairs, there was a pool table and the main part of the pub. Pete would take me upstairs and I'd join in the dancing as best I could. Downstairs, we'd play pool and inevitably, I would lose and get mad. One time, after I had lost a match, I threw my pool cue away from me in disgust. It hit a Hells Angel. He was a gentleman and handed it back to me and suggested that I hide it because I had broken it. It wasn't mine, you see, but the pub's.

Afterwards, I went to University and split with Pete. I now come to the most shameful part of my life, musically. I got into music that was, frankly, trendy. It was 1980's, self-concious, pretentious shite. Everybody wore cropped jeans, plimsolls and long baggy coats, including me. I must have looked an absolute prat. The music was mainly electronic. We used to go to a night club in Birmingham called the Powerhouse. You didn't have to wear smart clothes there and they played trendy music and also other post punk and some pre-punk music there. I danced to The Passenger by Iggy Pop there and Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo. Those were the better tunes. The shameful stuff is Matt Fretton, Blancmange, Wham (yes, Wham!!!) I shudder to even think of it. The trendies used to do a dance, where they would shuffle their feet slowly, all the time looking at the floor. I called it the dog-shit shuffle because they looked like they were checking their shoes. At the end of the night, they would play New York, New York by Frank Sinatra. I would always dance with my then boyfriend's good mate, Dave. The boyfriend is now, incidentally, my husband.

Sometime during the 80s I stopped liking Pop Music. The last record I remember liking was Rush Hour by Jane Wiedlin. Anything after that does not register. I started listening to Classical Music more and to Opera for the first time. For a while, I was a big fan. I preferred lighter stuff, like Bizet and Puccini. My first tastes of Opera were from the French film, Diva (featuring the skinhead who does not like anything "J'aime pas les ascenseurs" etc) which featured Ebben Ne Andro Lontana and from a Spitting Image version of the Pearl Fishers Duet.

I think I should stop here now. I had a look for a video of the Pearl Fishers Duet on YouTube but I found this offering by Jussi Bjorling instead. It is not a video, just a still photograph but his voice is so good that I decided to go with the photograph accompanied by some of the most beautiful music I know instead. Close your eyes and enjoy.

Middlewich Folk and Boat Festival, Sunday

On Sunday, I got up feeling remarkably fresh considering I had not slept particularly well. I went to the shower block and had a shower, using only Simple Face Wash. I had come particularly badly prepared. The showers are communal and it was a bit like being back at school. I'm not particularly embarrassed about my body but I think I would have preferred cubicles.

After my shower I went back to my tent and a fellow Crow, Jean offered me a coffee, which I gratefully accepted. Jean and various other Crows also offered me breakfast which again I gratefully accepted, being just a little bit hungry after my exertions the previous day. I had bought some batteries for my camera on Saturday so I put them in and fastened the case to my belt. I had been really impressed with the other teams the day before and I was determined to get some pictures this time.

Our first date was the Civic Centre, where we were to participate in a Morris Display. I snapped freely during the other teams' displays and here is a small selection of photographs for your edification:

From the top there is: Redbournestoke Morris Men, hankies aloft (left), the Ironmen (right), Mr Hemmings Traditional Abingdon Morris (left), The Earl of Stamford's youngest Morris dancers (right) and the awesome Stone Monkey (centre).

I danced a White Ladies and got it wrong (ouch!). My excuse was I was number 3 on the right and I usually dance number 2 on the left. The other Morris Teams were fantastic but I would like to make a special mention of Stone Monkey. They left me absolutely breathless with their Rapper. Each team danced 2 dances. Mr Hemmings danced one dance where a young lady stands in the middle. They chose somebody from The Earl of Stamford's Morris. The poor girl appeared to be traumatised afterwards.

Stone the Crows' second dance was Skirmish. I absolutely love Skirmish and I am dying to learn it. It's a brilliant showcase for the team and when it's danced well (and I've only ever seen it danced well) it's a show stopper.

After that, we had another dance on the Festival Ground and I danced Ragged Crow yet again. I was beginning to feel really proud of myself. Sharing the festival ground with us was the Earl of Stamford Morris Team, who dance Cotswold. At the end of the display, we had another massed Tinners. I really enjoyed myself yet again. I was beginning to feel I could get used to this.

Things were drawing to a close and I went off to remove my "make-up" in the car. Then I went to find two friends and fellow team members, John and Gill. I knew they would be in the Boars Head, not because the beer is good (although it is) but because there would be a massive jamming session going on and I don't think much would keep G & J from such a musicians' paradise.

The bar was packed and I missed them at first. I went and got myself a drink and then came back to the front bar, where most of the playing/singing was going on. There in the thick of it were Gill with her melodeon and John with his whistle. I dragged up a chair (with some difficulty, the bar was so crowded) and sat down behind them. Then I sat back and enjoyed the music.

The standard of playing and singing is amazing. I expressed a wish that I played a portable instrument fairly early on in the proceedings. I play the piano but there is no way I would have fitted it in the crowded bar, even if I could have brought one. I can sing a bit - usually in the car, very loudly and along to various punk songs - but I was a bit embarrassed. Some of the women who sang were breath-takingly good.

There were fiddle players, melodeon players, concertina players, an accordion player, various guitarists, whistle players, banjo players and bodhran players, one of whom also played the washboard. One or two would start a tune and one by one others would join in. I was mesmerised. One of the gents present started to sing "The Leaving of Liverpool" and I joined in the chorus with enthusiasm, confident that nobody would be able to hear me.

We had our tea in the pub and then left for the final concert of the weekend. The main act was Show of Hands with special guest Miranda Sykes and they were well worth the drive home late at night afterwards. I hadn't heard the band before and I had been nodding off during the support acts (sorry!) but I became wide awake when they started their set. I can't name most of the songs they performed but I do know they played "Roots", a passionate song defending the English folkmusic tradition. I also know that they were very good indeed and I thoroughly enjoyed the concert.

At the end, while we were leaving, we were treated to the spectacle of a streaker climbing one of the central poles of the marquee (I believe there was another but I never spotted him). It was an amusing end to a good evening. I went back to my car, said goodbye to Gill and John and set off home. The journey was uneventful and I didn't fall asleep at the wheel, which, in retrospect, is a little surprising considering how tired I must have been.

I sometimes finish off a blog with a video but this time, I'm going to finish with two. One is of Stone Monkey doing a rapper dance and the other is of Show of Hands. You can watch one or the other or both if you prefer.

Middlewich Folk and Boat Festival, Saturday

I went to the Middlewich Folk and Boat Festival on Saturday 16 June 2007. Some of the team had gone down on the Friday and bagsied a decent pitch. I went down early on Saturday morning and got there quite early because, to be frank, I had been pretty excited and was too hyper to sleep or wait around. I arrived at about 8.45 after a brief detour via Tesco to get some toothpaste because we didn't have any spare at home. I rang my contact, Carol and her husband John answered the phone and said he'd come and find me. I didn't want to drive my car across the field because it looked so muddy at the entrance and my car is only small and it doesn't even have any wellington boots. I was terrified it would get stuck.

I'm going to have to keep this brief so:

1) I drove up to the tents and the car did not get stuck.
2) John and Ann of Stone the Crows put up my borrowed tent with a little help from me.
3) I got changed and blacked up ready for the procession and got my photo taken with Lizzie. Here it is:

The batteries in my camera then gave up the ghost so I didn't get to take any more photos until Sunday. We walked down to Somerfield for the procession and we discovered that we were to bring up the rear. It was a bit stop and start but I loved dancing in it. You get the chance to rush at the crowd and scare children. Well, that's what Border Morris is all about isn't it? During a couple of the stops, we danced a short Tinners Rabbit, which allowed the teams in front to move on a bit and give us room to go back to our procession dance. At the end, we danced through an honour guard of other teams, which was a wonderful experience and made me feel like John Terry when Chelsea won the Premiership in 2006.

After that, we went to the bullring for our first dance. It was one of my favourites, Ragged Crow. What am I on about? I don't have a favourite dance - I love them all equally. I do like Ragged Crow though, because it looks so good. I sat on the sidelines and watched because I didn't know it... yet! Other teams were dancing on the bullring too so we got plenty of rest between dances. Now, I'm not absolutely sure but I think we danced White Ladies next and I know I danced. At the end of the "show", Murray persuaded some other teams to join in a massed Tinners Rabbit. With all the dancers and all the musicians together, it was a wonderful sight and sound and somebody has put a video on YouTube which features it. Not sure about the music though but here it is:



Then I went off with a couple of young Crows, Rachel and Lizzie and a Crow's daughter (sorry, I don't remember your name!) to look round the festival and get some food. I was told off by a man who had a birds of prey stall because of my hat. Evidently, the birds would have got excited by the sight of the feathers in it. I took it off shamefacedly. I bought some souvenirs for friends and family from some of the stalls - a couple of friendship bracelets for my daughters and a fridge magnet for Sammy the Shark.

We then got some dinner - I got a sausage barm which tasted fine, amazingly - and then we went onto the next pitch, the Boars Head pub. Unfortunately, it had just started to rain, so we did what any sensible Morris side would do and went in. There are a number of rooms in the Boars head and all contained dancers and musicians. We went in a room containing a pool table and I witnessed possibly the longest game of pool I have ever seen.

Now, I don't like to cast aspersions on my fellow Morris dancers and I do not pretend to be a good pool player but I can hit the white. This was the most amazing display of pool playing I have ever seen! It was "two shots!" all round as the white failed to connect with a colour or the white went in the pocket. The only thing not done was to pot the black before time. I took two goes (it was a team effort in every sense of both words) and the first time, I actually managed to pot two balls and of the right colour. I did say I'm not a good pool player. The last shot was down the table and I missed the pocket (but not the ball). I blamed it on not wearing my glasses. This was a deception because I am long sighted.

Anyway, one team won, the rained cleared up and we went out to dance. It was Ragged Crow again and this time I learned the dance. Ragged Crow is danced in sets of four. Usually 2 sets but 3 other Crows made up a third set with me and took me through the dance. We did another dance (I really should have taken notes because I've forgotten everything) and then another Tinners.

After that, more mooching around until we were to dance at the Festival Ground. At the Festival Ground, I danced Ragged Crow properly for the first time. It was great!

The rest of Saturday is a bit of a blur really. I had a couple of beers from the beer tent and I bought a leather Morris Dancer badge from the clog maker. I also went to look at didgeridoos with Brent and Fiona and I had a look at some other weird and wonderful musical instruments. Later I went to look at rings with Lizzie and I got myself a ring for my little finger (so I now wear 8).

We went back to the campsite at the end of the day and Brent and the lovely Fiona went to get a curry (I still owe them a fiver for mine). I was getting colder and colder and I was beginning to feel sick and I was really tired (I had done loads of dances during the day - I'm really not used to the exercise). Somebody noticed that something was wrong - especially when I didn't eat my curry - and took action. I was put in John and Gill's motorhome and wrapped up in blankets and a quilt. John put on the heater and people kept looking in and asking if I was okay. I think my embarrassment slightly outweighed the cold and tiredness.

Eventually, most of the Crows went off to the evening shows and ceilidhs and Ann brought me a hot chocolate. I was really tired and once I felt properly warm again, I ventured out to the campsite toilets, returned Ann's cup to her and went to bed. I did not get cold again but I didn't sleep too well either but what the heck! This was the first time I'd camped in 24 years so what did I expect?

To be continued...

Rennie, the LSH, Bobbie, Sammy and Morris Dancers

We danced out at the Ship Inn at Freckleton on Thursday 31 May. This was a momentous occasion for me because I was accompanied by my Long Suffering Husband and my youngest, Bobbie. We couldn't persuade Charlie to come along and we didn't even try with my eldest, Harry. There were two other team members when we got there and the LSH suggested they might be trying to avoid me etc but people kept arriving so I went and blacked up and the LSH got me, Bobbie and himself a drink. Sammy had also arrived and came out and gave me a hug. Her friends from Freckleton were there too so I waved at them through the window. Here is a picture of us before proceedings got underway. I'm on the right and I might look like I'm having a sneaky puff on a cigarette but I assure you that is not the case. I gave up 2 years and 8 months ago and I have not smoked since.

When enough dancers had turned up, we danced our first dance, Ragged Crow. I don't know this one and I have to watch from the sidelines, so I grabbed a tambourine and provided some percussion. You can actually hear me on the video, jingling on the upbeat and before you shout "Which video?", here it is.



I'm not absolutely sure of the order of things but we danced a Tinners Rabbit and I went third, a position I'm comfortable with. We also danced White Ladies, which I actually managed to do faultlessly. I hold my partner entirely responsible for me not going wrong. He has this way of keeping me on the right track at all times. Here's a picture from that dance. We also danced Ashpole and I managed to go wrong loads and loads of times. In mitigation, I must plead that I was not dancing in my usual place, but then a good Morris dancer should be able to dance in any position (within the dance, I'm not talking about dancing doing a handstand or anything silly like that). During the dance, there is a hey with swings. This photo is as I am about to go into a swing with Brent.

We also did another Tinners with audience members and Sammy and her two friends were dragged into the dance. I went first this time and felt very important and very experienced! My "civvy" dancer was one of Sammy's friends from Freckleton, Jackie. She actually wants to join the team, which is great, and apart from nearly having my eye out with her stick, she did very well indeed. At the end of the evening, we had a team photo taken and then we went into the pub and the musicians started playing. A couple of the team sang songs and we all joined in on tambourines, marracas and various other percussion instruments, including the LSH and Bobbie. I took this picture and I particularly like it because of all the top hats on the tables.

Bobbie tried on my hat at one point. Brent asked her if she knew what happens when a non-Morris Dancer tries on a Morris Dancer's hat. She said no and he replied "She becomes pregnant." She hurriedly took it off again. After a fair few tunes and a few pints and two songs, we left and went home. By the way, none of the Morris Dancers had to pay for our drinks, which was very kind indeed.

Finally, here is one more video and it is us dancing Tinners.

More Dancing

Since I got back from Amsterdam, I've danced out twice more. On Tuesday, 22 May, we danced out at Runshaw College in Leyland for a Lancashire Evening at the Catering Department. Now purists would say, "Wait a minute! Border Morris originated in the English/Welsh Borders! That's not a Lancashire Tradition!" and I would say, "I'm afraid I have to agree." I will concede that Murray did point this out but I can safely state that we are a Lancashire Border Morris team, so I think it's allowed.

We started with a Tinners Rabbit and I went third, which is easiest for me. I'm not sure of the exact order of the dances but I know I danced a White Ladies - not particularly well this time but I am a beginner, aren't I? I think there was also a Ragged Crow and one or two others and then we repaired to the Foxholes Restaurant for a beer and a chip butty (well, two chip butties in my case).

Then off to the Eagle and Child in Leyland for a couple more small bitters and some chit chat. There I learnt of a ladies' Rapper team based in Horwich. Of course I was interested! I'm still in the honeymoon stage with Morris Dancing and I want to try all the variants.

I went home surprisingly early for a Thursday night. I'm still using the Team Coat because mine is still a work in progress and I borrowed blacking for my face that day. I have now bought my own face paints and sponge and baby wipes and I have been working steadily, if slowly on my coat.