skiffle – devizine.com

A leopard doesn’t change its spots, and neither does a British Lion. Watch other Devizes pubs change landlord, decor, attractions, and styles. Watch them close, reopen under new management, and try something else, while the British is steadfast and loyally imperishable. Ask anyone in Devizes their favourite pubs, and they’ll have different answers, then add The British Lion to the list for good measure….

What better setting for the last day of a most memorable Devizes Arts Festival than their extensive suntrap beer garden?

Old timey rhythm and blues blessed the full house, delivered with unique flavour and proficiency from a family Southampton come Birmingham (apparently) quartet, called The Junco Shakers.

These free fringe events provided by the Arts Festival are them at their rawest, letting their hair down and attracting the Devizes bohemians, alongside regular punters and everyone in-between. For this notion and the uniformed venue, the timeless Junco Shakers were a perfect match. I’d consider it skiffle. At least they used a washboard and percussion brushes, though over time, this has become a vague description. It felt bone-shaking blues of yore. At times, an upright double-bass gave it a rockabilly edge. It was jumpy and infectious, immutable enough to not warrant pigeonholing, so I’ll shut up!

With a barbecue sizzling bangers, the sun with his hat on, and just about everyone who’s ever sunk a pint in the British in attendance, it was the epitome of the Devizes spirit. While many here desire a political change and excuse me for getting political, in divertissement, the formula of this free house is unchanging; reliability, and a cracking selection of cask ales and ciders.

For those now with a taste of poison, The Three Crowns had Pat and Ben’s Matchbox Mutiny at 3pm, the Southgate hosting Jon Amor’s favourite guest LeBurn Maddox at 5pm, and the Devizes Arts Festival itself polish off with a free poetry slam at the Wharf Theatre. You can see now why I had bitten off more than I can chew when highlighting what’s happening in Devizes, as for a market town its size, this is just a typical sunny summer Sunday here, and we’re spoiled for choice. Me? I went home for tea and bed; those pintas won’t deliver themselves!

As for the British Lion, it rarely puts music events on, but when it does, the population rise to the occasion, remembering with fondness nights of yore in this award-winning pub, who gave them ‘Black Rat Monday,’ the Saturday quiz, and the eminent stalwart landlord Mike Dearing.

We thank the team at Devizes Arts Festival. It’s been another fantastic year, and we look forward to many more.

It’s any wonder if this bonkers jazz skiffle duo found a double-entendre in the name of Trowbridge’s finest live music venue, The Pump, when they visited at the beginning of the month in support for Jaz DeLorean, being they’re the boater’s royalty of euphemisms, but at least they did find time to release a recording of the occasion……

A judiciously selected four-track EP acting as a teaser for this asinine pair, Devil’s Doorbell is up on Bandcamp, recorded live at The Pump by the man Kieran J Moore, and while it might be some way from Dark Side of the Moon, it’s a half-hour of carefree jollity your life might yet depend on.

In true circus cabarert and homemade instruments, Nipper plays tenor banjo and kazzumpet, while Jellylegs Johnson is on the washtub bass, and both tend to finish each other’s lyrics with hilarious consequences over some good ol’ foot-tapping scrumpy and western flavoured skiffle. Take it no more seriously than this.

Rife with retrospective euphemistic rhymes, rudeness is abound from the start, mocked in goofy George Formby subtlety, Carry-On titillation and Pythonesque nonsense; it’s a west country thing! My Girl’s Pussy opens the EP, reminiscent of Eric Idle’s Noel Coward charade, Penis Song. Hot Nuts continues the ooh matron theme, while a slip of self-fashioned blues plays out with When I Get Low I get High, and we’re back to square one with Rattle Snakin’ Daddy. Dammit though, it’s frolicking fun now, would’ve tickled the 1930s New Orleans high-energy jazz circuit pink, if only they were allowed in with wellies!

If it’s jazzy it’s silly in equal measure, yet with one eye squint you can envision yourself haphazardly perched on a log in dew-drenched tallgrass, near a Kennet & Avon towpath, swigging flat cider and thoroughly soaking up every minute, particularly during those random moments when they up the tempo.

And if you like this audacious audio, the stage show is the visual treat you’d expect from those crazy west country boaters, all props, burlesque, and silly hats, and you couldn’t contemplate a better way to tickle the fancy and warm the crowd in your humble boozer, other than a real ringing of the devil’s doorbell. You can book them at your own risk, HERE.