Tag: the beehive

SwinterFest Broke Me Out of Hibernation!

Like a hedgehog poking his nose out of the bracken, just a few hours on the Sunday at Swinterfest was enough to cure me of my hibernation, which seems to lengthen with each year and causes me to worry the attraction of warm, cosy nights in might seclude me forevermore, and I’ll never see a chap strum a guitar again!

I was only at the Beehive for ten minutes before wishing I’d got here sooner, three days sooner! Swindon Shuffle organisers decided to create a winter version for last weekend, and speaking with both Ed Dyer and Jamie Hill of Swindon Link and Ink, they were wary if it would be as successful as their annual summer extravaganza. Exhausted by Sunday but still positively beaming with enthusiasm, I’m glad to report Ed signed the event off as a huge triumph.

Crowds turned out to the respective pub venues on each day; Thursday at the Hop, Friday at the Vic, Saturday at The Castle, and Sunday at the Beehive. A colossal selection of the South West’s finest musical talent united to raise some wonga for the Prospect Hospice, as they do with The Swindon Shuffle and My Dad’s Bigger Than Your Dad festival. 

The team assembled for the final showdown at the Beehive, which is a crazy-good watering hole aptly on Prospect Hill; I could resist no more. From Courting Ghosts and Canute’s Plastic Army to Will Lawton, George Wilding to I See Orange I sadly missed many of my favourites, even our wonderful M3G and Devizes-own Nothing Rhymes With Orange; what can I say in my defence? Would central heating, cosy sofa or homemade stew cut the crust?!

Despite it being a whistle-stop, I was so glad to be reunited with Swindon’s premier Americana collective Concrete Prairie. At one point I was close to becoming their groupie, unfortunately our paths haven’t crossed for a while. Seconds into their set why I’ve claimed they’re better than sliced bread came flooding back. They were, for want of a technical evaluation, absolutely and steadfastly, one-hundred and fifty percent on fire.

I don’t know if it was the fact the Beehive is one of their favourite venues to play, if time had eroded my expectations of them, or they’ve polished their already proficient skills, or maybe because they opted for their more high-energy originals, or possibly now those songs have become classics fans chant them back at them, but wow, just wow!

I was introduced to Clarie, their new fiddler, previously informed she fitted like a glove into this astounding band, and they weren’t fibbing. It is in their unification where sparks fly, if individually they’d reach a level of greatness naturally, together they’re solid and tight. Concrete Prairie is the whole deal for dark and foreboding themed country-blues-rock which takes you on a mood-changing journey; they could play disco and still rouse the hairs on the back of your neck, dammit! (they don’t though, for the record!)

Prior to their invigorating explosion I was delighted to find a new love. From Newport, Joe Kelly & The Royal Pharmacy were truly a blessing. Described as a chameleonic presence, in so much as he plays solo, or his masterful originals are fleshed out with the three-part vocal harmonies, guitar and keyboard combo of his backing band the Royal Pharmacy. Joe explained the versatility of his band contained missing elements today, of drums and bass, which when added could evoke the harder rock ambience of a five-piece, on occasions, but the harmonious delivery of folk-rock masterpieces was plentiful for me to decide this outfit is something I could perpetually return to.

Perfectly pitched between smooth and rustic, Joe’s authentic raspy call of expressionism is breathtakingly emotive, his canvas is projected outwards but his brush operates inwards. It conveys that timeless fidelity and sense of personal reflection and identification of Guthrie or Dylan, with the gusto of Geldof or Petty. It is, in a word, gorgeous; music for the soul.

Through his self made independent record label, Dirty Carrot Records, there’s a selection of their recordings to check out, I recommend you do, and they’re showcasing their local circuit with five other artists on the books. Joe Kelly & The Royal Pharmacy timelessly embrace every classic element of folk-rock, the emotional poignancy, sincere homespun fashion, the evoking sound, and project them outwards nothing short of sublimely, encapsulating an audience you really need to be in!

And that was only two of the thirty three acts booked to perform at the inaugural Swinterfest last weekend; imagine the length of my waffling if I’d see anymore! Jamie at Swindon Link wore the Swinterfest T-shirt out and gave a more comprehensive evaluation, here. Me? I’m more of a Catchphrase contestant than a music journalist, I just say what I see, and those bottles won’t deliver themselves, so, I had to retire from the bustling Beehive, disappearing into the night; milk and honey not mixing well this time. Shame, because I missed Erin Bardwell and the Subject A gang, and SN Dubstation, despite knowing they’re both up my street and knocking loudly on my door.

The most important part to all this was questioning the big chief organiser of the Shuffle and now Swinterfest, Ed Dyer, if he’d make this an annual thing, and there was absolutely no sign of doubt in his tone that he would. Interestingly he suggested incorporating other arts into the mix, suggesting comedy, poetry and drama. The idea was to separate it from the music dominated Shuffle, so it lives in its own domain and isn’t viewed more simply as a winter version of the Shuffle. But as Jamie expressed, what they know best is music, so they went with that to begin with, and they certainly do!

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Swindon Gets Shuffling!

Despite the population of Devizes throwing confetti and paint at each other in their most celebrated annual ritual, I believe I picked the right weekend to visit Swindon; deffo, or are they always ‘aving it there?!

The Wildcats whipped butt at their first league game of the season on Friday, but my Saturday was dedicated to exploring the arts, something criticised stereotypically by outsiders. I could sigh, with partial agreement, historically perhaps. Swindon caressed industrial boom, somewhere along the line forgoing its arts and culture. This is changing, and fast, the Shuffle is a skeleton key opening said transpose.

What’s not thankfully changed is Old Town, while central Swindon is unrecognisable compared to twenty years ago. Just as Swindon Paint Fest has decorated the walls with impressive street art, the Swindon Shuffle is the event pushing the town’s boundaries in locally sourced live music. There’s few annual events in Wiltshire showcasing entirely local music, I best liken the Shuffle to The Bradford Roots Festival at the Wiltshire Music Centre. Save, this is spread across the choicest pubs in Swindon rather than under one purpose-built complex.

And it is a mammoth simultaneous exhibition of musical talent, a taster of what the county offers, of which it’d be impossible to witness entirely; best I approach this diary-like, apologies to the many bands I missed. We’re talking over seventy acts spread across nine venues for this four-day beast in its eighteenth year, and it remains free, fundraising via donation buckets for Prospect Hospice. 

Available for the Saturday only, my intention is to take as big a bite of it as I can, taste some known favourites and cross a number of must-sees off my ever-growing list.

Swindon Shuffle is a beautiful thing, a convention for local musicians, promoters, media types and aficionados. I stepped off the bus at The Tuppenny, in a hurry and frustrated I’d now missed Sienna Wileman and likely Chippenham’s singer-songwriter Meg, to bump into Sienna’s father Richard, big Shuffle chief Ed Dyer on the door, and luckily, Meg’s dad Paul; the latter meaning Meg was still playing and I managed to catch the last few songs of this unique and emotive rising star.

This tavern was bustling yet functioning happily, a crowd immersed in Meg’s magical words, set the stage for Americana soloist Jol Rose, up next. Something of a Swindon optimistic Dylan, he retains his concentrated narrative songs in favour of the more lighthearted ditties and banter to appease, though there was a poignant one on the Gaza conflict, but whichever his outlook, Jol is a proficient entertainer and skilled master of his craft.

Breaking familiar territory, new one for me, David Corrigan of The Astral Ponies followed, with an inspiring set of acoustic versions of his band’s songs. The dilemma of going tried and tested against treating the Shuffle as a voyage of discovery set in; solved by the next few hours whereby acts I’m making a beeline for I’m aware of but yet to see live. I tend to get over-excited about such prospects, and figured drinking cider like water might help.

Make no mistake, I could’ve cemented myself in at The Tuppenny, such is its comfy atmos, but, hot on this must-see list, Swindon’s Afro-Latin collective Zambalando are due in a coffee shop on Commercial Road called Baristocats, so I’m moving on. The café was bustling and I was early, recalling a Facebook post that the Midlife Krisis sound system was set up in the courtyard of Level III, exterior to the Shuffle program. I thought I’d temporarily breach the Shuffle and check. Bass rolling down the street like the millennium never happened, I turned one corner to find a throbbing little afternoon rave going on, with their symbolic milk-float fronted DJ booth, a wall of sound and smiley ravers giving it some.

Observing street art of city magnitude I left assured, Shuffle or no, Swindon has embraced diverse arts on a level unrivalled by its recent history. Only the thought of Zambalando dragged me away from the old skool vibes, but upon arrival back at Baristocats it seemed they’d cancelled. Nevertheless I commandeered a sofa, tea and toastie, chatting to Swindon’s premiere reggae/ska keyboardist Erin Bardwell, who’s collective Subject A played the Shuffle on Thursday. Baristocats are hip, make a damn fine toastie, and XTC’s keyboardist Barry Andrews, aka Stic Basin, was taking us on a blissful journey of ambient dub.

If I’m complimenting Swindon, may as well include some infrastructure too, for tucked behind the now commercialised Regent Circus is the steep Prospect Hill, ingeniously with a pub at both the top and bottom. This would be my resting place for the duration, the short distance from the Beehive to the Castle manageable, if uphill, to switch between multi-musician Richard Wileman & singer and saxophonist Amy Fry’s gorgeous experimental jazz-come-psychedelia at the Beehive, and Liddington Hill who’ve created their own subgenre, Celtic-grunge, and were currently giving it what’s for at The Castle. Allowing me to cross two must-sees off my list. Liddington Hill was brilliantly loud and in your face, everything I’d imagined and more, and crowds gathered to salute that.

Unlike the Beehive, I was unfamiliar with the Castle, yet felt immediately at home; it had been invaded by both ‘Talkers’ awaiting the headliner, and cheesemakers from Calne, real ones! It’s fine, off territory, no dispute, love The Real Cheesemakers’ hilarious wurzel take on heavy rock, and boy did they blast it superbly!

Only good things heard about the next band were certainly not fibs. The Belladonna Treatment is a remedy for an off-balance in indie-rock, pop and punk; all subgenres were subtly intertwined idiosyncratically, and beguilingly delivered to sardine-packed admirers, and a new fan here. Unfortunately Trunk, the penultimate act at the Castle I had to miss due to an emergency burger mandate. It’d be fifteen minutes wait at the chippy, I was content, it’s opposite the Victoria, Swindon’s stalwart music venue and one I unusually gravitate towards.

Age thing, the lineup was particularly heavy and aimed at the younger demographic at the Vic tonight, NervEndings headline, and I’m well aware of their force of nature as they spawned in Devizes, adding our quintessential blues module to their furiously yet accomplished sound. A whistlestop no longer than a burger on a grill, enough to note it was equally as packed and having it there as the Castle, Lucky Number Seven were ensuring it.      

But if you know me well enough you’ll know if indie-pop virtuosos Talk In Code are there, so am I. It’s a march back to the Castle for a grand finale of eighties-tinged goodness. I never doubt, Talk in Code pulled it out of the bag, the place was thumping, the crowd were jumping, and the end, for me, to Swindon Shuffle was the icing on an exceptionally tasty cake.

The show continued Sunday, had to miss Concrete Prairie, Courting Ghosts, Cooper Creek, Leon Daye, and others, but I believe I took a fair bite out of this extravaganza, this local music expose, certainly enough to know if you only spend one weekend a year in Swindon, you’d be best advised to make it this one.

You can still donate online to Swindon Shuffle’s fund for Prospect Hospice HERE.

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