Fairport Convention

Forum, Bath


Fiddler Ric Sanders bounds down the aisle at the end of the concert. "Hello there. Good to see you! Thanks for coming out. Like your hat". I momentarily do a double take; I go to enough folk concerts that I am on "hello-ing" terms with some of the bands, but I couldn't think of any reason for Ric to recognize me. And then I realise: he is doing it do everybody. The band are in the foyer; selling CDs, sure, but chatting, mixing, interacting. This is what they do. They treat sold out audiences in Bath's biggest venue as gatherings of friends; perform as if it was an intimate gig in a pub; invite you to their festival like they were asking you back for tea.

It would obviously be mad to compare Fairport Convention with Fisherman's Friends; but I can't resist it. Fairport have existed for more than half a century. Two of the band (Simon Nicol and Dave Pegg) were in it virtually from the beginning: Ric is a relative newcomer, having "only" player with them for 35 years. They pretty much invented folk rock. Their songs are standards. They run their own festival. They play the old songs, but are still generating new material. When you go and hear Fairport you are buying into a narrative; buying into a legend.

It's the 50th anniversary of Full House, so they open up with Walk Awhile and drop in a wonderful Patrick Spens. Fully two thirds of the material comes off a new album, Shuffle and Go. But of course we also get the official Greatest Folk Track of All Time; Who Knows Where The Time Goes and my personal favourite, Matty Groves. (The current line up has no female vocalist, interestingly: possibly no-one could step into Sandy Denny's shoes.) The evening finishes with an all but mandatory encore of Meet on the Ledge.

From the moment they start playing I am astonished at how much they sound like Fairport Convention. There sound has a late 60s psychedelic lushness; as if Mr Kite had bumped into Cecil Sharp. There are bands that play rock music with a garnish of fiddle and bands which reinvent the traditional folk repertoire in rock style. Fairport's aural texture starts with fiddle tunes; everything falls into place around it. It sounds English and rural and traditional even when they aren't particularly singing folk songs.

Ric makes silly jokes throughout the evening. (If two men in smart suits come to your door wanting to clean your carpet, they are probably Jehoovers Witnesses.) I am at this moment looking at my calendar to see if it is at all possible to lose my Cropeddy virginity.