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CROPREDY 2002
Cropredy felt very good this year.
Fairport Convention's 35th anniversary. It was a worthy celebration. Nothing lasts 35 years if it ain't got swing. And they swung, the lot of them, past and present.
There were a number of performances that have stayed in the mind this weekend. Those of the Oysterband and their lead vocalist who's name is, John Jones, I believe. And also, I was going to say, most unexpectedly but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised - the performance by Richard Digance. The sherbet lemons routine was the most joyous social history, far beyond the remit of folk singing.
And then there were the ladies. Deborah Bonham held the stage, Eddi Reader did too. And there was the woman that I'd been told I must talk to, she runs Compass Records in the States, Allison Brown. I had retired from a wodge of rain and listened in my tent with friends. She's tremendous. That's what I call banjo. Eddi went on with them, such a sweet band. Missed talking to Allison Brown of course.
There's always some moment at Cropredy. A small jewel to take home with you. Last year it was the performance of Francis Dunnery. A couple of years ago it was a stunning hour of Loudon Wainwright. Another time it was the sight of Dave Pegg, after a night living up to the band's motto: "veni, vidi, imbibi", strolling down to back-stage at a sunny eight in the morning, beaming. Like a lifeguard on his way to the beach.
But you know what was the best thing about Cropredy this year, for me? The tent.
I used to stay at the hotel in Banbury. En suite with breakfast across the room from Danny Thompson. Tables set with crisp white linen napkins. A place you can stay in the bar late with other performers and performer's mates. But last year, as I wasn't playing, I wasn't allocated a room but Dave and Chris Pegg, bless 'em, gave me a pass to camp backstage. So I borrowed a small tent. It was just big enough to squeeze in table, chairs and a kettle. I discovered it's wonderful to have such things on site. You can go back there instead of all that standing about in the rain. AND, the great thing about backstage, there's not a hotel fire door in sight.
So this year I meant to do it seriously. I got a tent from Stuart Ketchin, the guitar maker and, when he finds time, a GP. He's the kind of man who, when he turns his hand to something, seeks out perfection. His guitars are very impressive. So I was confident, when I was told by Chris While and Julie Matthews, that he had a tent he wanted to get rid of, that it would probably be the perfect kind of tent. And so it has proved. Three bedrooms and a lounge big enough for a small wedding reception. This, with the help of my ever-maturing children, Taylor and Ruby, I was to erect expertly on Thursday afternoon.
After the two and a half hour drive from the Essex coast, having made excellent time, we spent the next half hour in the newly organised Williamscot queue, swapping mobile calls with Rob Beattie about half a mile ahead of us.
"There's a Securicor van just gone past me, can you see it?"
All I wanted was to get on site and get the tent up backstage. I was really looking forward to the moment of well-being when you've made your first cup of coffee in your new home. The traffic had buggered the best of our intentions to get the tent up and then leave the festival site again at around four o'clock to go and have our new St Agnes Fountain "Christmas Photos" taken at Adderbury Church. This had been arranged by Chris Leslie who was waiting on site with Colin Edwards.
The line was not moving. Only in the other direction was there life. The Securicor van came past
"Where are you?" came the call from the While/Matthews Nissan Serena.
"Just approaching the site. They've decided to reorganise the traffic and have a queue this year."
"Well, we're stuck in traffic too. The M42 was a nightmare. We're going to be an hour at least."
"Don't worry, it'll give me time to put the tent up."
"See you later."
"Bye."
The kids and I had expertly got the frame and outside canvas up within an hour or so of our arrival backstage. Then a few chats with a few welcome faces. With the three inner rooms ready to tether up and the knowledge that the gas stove was nearing the top of the pile left in the car, a call came through from While and Matthews.
"Where are you?"
"Backstage."
"Agh, no, Dave," groaned Julie, "we've been waiting here in Adderbury for half an hour. I thought you said you were nearly there."
"I was nearly there, the festival site. I am there."
"Oh, what a bastard this is, Dave."
"Hang on, Colin's next to me. We'll come over straight away."
Colin went in search of Chris Leslie while I told the kids that I'd be away for an hour. Chris turned up to escort me to the open door of Colin's car.
"The bastards! I thought we were all meeting up backstage first. Women!"
Chris Leslie tried to soothe my troubled countenance with a friendly pat on the shoulder. The occupants of other tents were turning their heads in our direction.
"I haven't had a coffee yet!"
Well, it worked out. After I blamed the ladies and they blamed me it was fine.
"What do you think of "Silent Night"?" asked Julie. They'd sent me a CD of the last St Agnes session.
"I think it's great. I think it's so good it should be longer with all four of us doing a chorus in German."
"No, it should be just as it is, it's beautiful."
"Yeah, but it's so good let's build it."
"No."
"Yes."
"We'll have to vote on it."
Chris While, Julie Matthews and Chris Leslie were for the track as it stands. Me against. I hate it when I can't convince the others to do it my way, it's so unfair. My way is better. So I just called them a bunch of bastards and accepted defeat gracefully. That's the end of that. It should be longer.
The photo shoot proved promising. Soon we were on our way back to Cropredy and a coffee. And so it went on. for three days the tent was a gathering point. All my friends and colleagues and acquaintances turned up at one time or another.
The kids were out with their mates from across the row of tents and came back to sleep. Cropredy is such a liberating place for them. After the music stopped on Thursday we demolished a litre of rum (not the kids they were in bed). On Friday night I found them serving in the Mojo tent with a detailed knowledge of all the artists' CDs and merch.
It was a very happy time. Seeing everyone including those people from the Fairport list who stopped to say hello and claim a RECOGNISED t-shirt. And in the tent with my friends, we caught up, made plans, exchanged ideas AND drank. Convivially.
On Sunday, I took the kids to the cricket match for an hour and because I was driving, I had a shandy. Ruby asked what I was drinking, was it IPA. No I said, it's got lemonade in it. Oooh, she said and promptly drank a couple of inches of it.
Is that the kind of thing a good father would let his ten year old daughter do? Well, it seemed to fit at the time. But, that's Cropredy. I'm coming back next year with the kids and a patio.
The photo is of me and Spencer Cozens taken by Colin Edwards on Thursday evening. Cropredy gives you an opportunity to enjoy music and coming together. I like the way you go home happy.
For instance, we were round at the back stage party for a little while on Saturday night. Deborah Bonham came up to me and said, "You're David Hughes!"
I don't know how she knew that but there was a look in her eye. It was the look of someone who was joining in at Cropredy.
I tell you how good the tent was though. We left the back stage party and returned to it. Soon I was joined by Eddi, by John from the Trash Can Sinatras, by Alan Thompson, Spencer and Em, Ullah and others. They liked it so much we were still there at 5 am as the sun came up.