SING Has A Party

In the second half of the 1950s, Michael Moorcock published a bunch of fanzines which ran concurrently, with Bill Harry coming aboard as his art editor towards the end of that period. One of these was JAZZ FAN, which later morphed into folkzine THE RAMBLER while continuing the numbering. Below is Bill Harry's cover for JAZZ FAN #9, though the article that follows it is from THE RAMBLER #11. At the time of the party he describes, Moorcock had just turned eighteen. Harry, of course, went on to found MERSEY BEAT.

A report of the party given on 13th January 1958 by Eric Winter of SING.

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A few were privileged to attend he party given by Eric and Audrey Winter, publishers of SING, the British folk music magazine.

I was one of them, and the amount of talent under one roof was hardly believable. There were THE SOUTHERNERS ("One of the finest non-skiffle groups in the country"), Fred and Betty Dallas, Hyam Morris, Sandy and Carolyn Paton, Johnnie Ambrose, John Foreman, Ottilie Patterson, Alan Lomax, Guy Carawan - and the one and only - Dominic Behan.

THE SOUTHERNERS started the evening with a rousing spiritual (OH, EVE, WHERE IS ADAM?) and proceeded to show that they were certainly an out of the ordinary group. Four men and two girls (the men on three guitars and a washboard). They were really worth hearing.

Who wasn't? Fred and Betty Dallas followed this group with some English folksongs, several accompanied by Fred's banjo and some without any instrumental accompaniment. Fred sang several songs which he had written himself.

Hyam Morris, playing American, English and Hebrew songs as well as parodies (such as his always popular PICCADILLY LINE). Also OH, FOR A CUP OF TEA (a plea for tea - London's coffee bars are taking over our teashops). He kept up, in the time being, a steady exchange of wit with a Scotsman who was proving for once and for all that Scots can't hold their liquor.

And then - Sandy and Carolyn Paton, recently over from the States, singing together to Sandy's guitar accompaniment. To hear Sandy and his wife sing is something which is well worth going out of your way for.

To try and describe Sandy's voice would be to tie myself up in rhetorical knots.

But take my word for it, he's damn' good and if you get the chance of hearing him sing some of those lovely New England songs, take it.

After a bit, John Foreman came up and told a story. John certainly is an animated young man, full of movement. An expressive face, hands even his body - his whole personality is alive.

Then he sang. He sang a song which 'his hero' Jack Elliott sings. It isn't a song actually but a verse and then a story. It wouldn't be worth telling the stories here - they're the kind which lose their flavour if written down.

After John, Hyam told a story - Hyam call tell a good story, too, and, altho' the joke didn't appeal to me as a good example of the jokes told during the evening, it gave Hyam a chance to display what I'd call histrionic talent if I could find what it meant in the dictionary.

Someone whose name I don't remember told a story which was well told but not up to the Foreman/Morris standard.

Johnny Ambrose, who's been singing around London for forty years, sang songs in so many languages I lost count - including THE CHIVALROUS MAN-EATING SHARK. Ottilie Patterson, along with Chris Barber (who didn't sing) turned up and sang some Irish songs. As she said, "I've been singing blues six days a week - I'd like to sing some Irish songs instead." And she sang some very well. She sings blues and plays piano very well, too.

Alan Lomax turned up With Cuy Carawan and they sang some American songs including CRIPPLE CREEK (Guy's favourite - you can always count on him to sing that one) several worksongs, THE FRENCHMAN'S BALL and FRANKIE AND ALBERT. These two players are, of course, masters of their instruments (just as all the players present) and they gave us some pretty good entertainment.

Alan told a couple of stories about his experiences when hunting for negro songs. How, whenever he used to sing a song somewhere where there were negroes one would come up to him and greet him like a long lost brother - "You bin down the river, bwah?" The reason being that these songs weren't known outside of the penitentiaries.

Then Dominic Behan arrived. Dominic was fresh from a hard MacColl-type rehearsal. Still, Dominic Behan, perhaps our finest Irish folksinger and certainly one of the most likeable, altho' protesting that his voice wasn't up to anything, sang a whole lot of Irish songs, a poem by Burns (which was perfect) and one or two of his own.

Stan Kelly, all the way from Cambridge, but Irish nonetheless, sang very well - Irish songs. Dominic sang a version of SPANISH LADY which, he told me afterwards, he'd picked up from an Irish labourer recently. It was, he thought, the most authentic version he'd heard. And to me it sounded the most authentic, too.

When Alan Lomax and Guy Carawan decided to leave, it kind of broke up the party and people started to drift about getting coats, talking to their friends and playing over blues on the piano.

Hyam started, then Ottilie took over.

Then out into the cold, cold morning. Dominic Behan and I were about the only people who lived in South London and so it turned out that we couldn't get a lift.

Eventually, Hyam, who was going nearer South than anyone else, offered to take us to Turnpike Lane where we could get an all-night bus going somewhere.

Eventually we made it. Changed 'bus for cab, cab for 'bus, then another 'bus, then we parted - me to look for a cab, not find one and board a 'bus going in the general direction of my home. I walked the last three miles home, but it was worth it.

On the way home, we talked about the American influence on present-day British folk music. I won't talk about that here, but it reminded me of something that Carolyn Paton had said earlier on in the evening. She said that she expected to come over to England and find English folksongs. Every coffee-bar they go into - what do they hear but MIDNIGHT SPECIAL and blues.

There's room for an entire article on this subject at a later date, so I won't give my ideas here. Although I've got lots more to say, I don't think I have much more space to say it in without starting another page, so maybe I'll bring it up in another article some other time. However, I would like to thank Eric and Audrey, plus all the other organisers of the party, for one of the best times I've ever had.

Eric tells me that there's a chance of making it a regular annual thing. He wants to call it a - SINGENANNY!

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