A Celebration of 25 Years of Free Reed
This is a hefty package for the folk fan. Three CDs, three hours and forty-four minutes of music and an eighty-page booklet. Page seven of that booklet offers the following observation: “Many of the great pioneering record labels are forever associated with one man. Sun had Sam Phillips, Trailer Bill Leader, and Motown Berry Gordy… Free Reed was and is Neil Wayne.”
Wayne comes across as living proof that the phrase “eccentric Englishman,” is a title to aspire to, rather than scorn. A huge, “hail fellow, well met” type of guy, I’m guessing that his mother once warned him that “the devil will find work for idle hands.” Wayne’s hands appear to be permanently employed, either with a rugby football, a pint of real ale or one of his beloved concertinas.
It was the last of these abiding passions that led to the establishment of Free Reed Records twenty five years ago, and this collection features tracks from all of the label’s releases during that period, compiled by Nigel Schofield. Wayne and Schofield are also the team responsible for Peter Bellamy’s Wake The Vaunted Echoes and Martin Carthy’s The Carthy Chronicles.
There’s an impressive roll call of artists assembled here. Irish traditional music enthusiasts will immediately spot names like Micho Russell, Len Graham, Seamus Ennis, Eddie Butcher and Johnny Moynihan among the credits. The Anglophiles fare even better with Peter Bellamy, Robin and Barry Dransfield, Mike Waterson, John Kirkpatrick, Vin Garbutt, Nic Jones and Fairport Convention. The whole thing’s superbly sequenced (often “pairing up” early and revival versions of the same tune) and represents something of a bargain in the amount of rare and otherwise unobtainable recordings represented.
If all of the above makes This Label is NOT Removable sound like the perfect gift for the uncommitted folkies in your life, then you may wish to consider the following before parting with your hard-earned cash … Firstly, one of Mr Wayne’s “eccentricities” appears to be a particular fondness for “comedy,” and “novelty,” recordings. Personally, if I was trying to convince someone of the genius of John Kirkpatrick, then there’s only one song that I’d keep well and truly hidden. Kirkpatrick’s contribution to this collection is track eight on CD 3, “Jogging along with my reindeer.” Oh bugger.
The same goes for Vin Garbutt, author of some of the most intelligent (and sometimes controversial) songs of the last three decades. Here we get Vin singing Les Barker’s “Vincent,” (“oh me name it is Van Gough, lend an ear …” ) Other tracks include versions of “The Dambuster’s March,” “Mickey’s son and daughter,” Nellie the Elephant,” and The City of Liverpool Concertina Band’s immortal reading of “My Ding-a-Ling” (the one Chuck Berry song that I’d keep well hidden).
Maybe it’s just me, or perhaps humour simply ages less well than “straight” traditional music, but these recordings evoke memories of a period of British folk music that I can’t recall with any fondness. (If my youthful memories are even vaguely accurate, then folk music seemed, for a while, to be largely the preserve of moustached, rugby playing, real ale enthusiasts!)
Secondly, a liking for the works of Rudyard Kipling is something of a prerequisite for total enjoyment of this CD set. Free Reed was responsible for releasing Peter Bellamy’s musical settings of Kipling poems, which are well represented here by various singers. I have nothing but an enduring admiration for the late Mr Bellamy (and treasure the memory of his brief stay in my house). But I’d go for his astonishing,, exciting and groundbreaking interpretations of traditional songs and leave the Kipling stuff well alone. If you’re a Kipling fan however, rejoice! (There are no fewer than three different versions of “Mandalay,” for a kick-off … )
Those two quibbles are ultimately no one’s problem but mine, and shouldn’t detract from the general (and deserved) acclaim being heaped on Neil Wayne for his achievements over the last twenty-five years. Wayne’s hands meanwhile, are as full as ever. Free Reed have already released their next four CD box-set celebrating 35 years of Fairport Convention (a copy of which has already gone to another Green Man reviewer – drat!) Scheduled releases include further four CD box sets including The Music of the Concertina (want one!), The John Kirkpatrick Box, and Burning Bright (The Ashley Hutchings Story).
This Label is NOT Removable is a fine testament to Neil Wayne’s past endeavors. If it hadn’t been for him (and others like him) then those “dark ages,” of the British folk scene that I was moaning about earlier would have turned out to be something far more serious than an unpleasant memory. However, it’s his current endeavors that really give cause for optimism, and if those forthcoming boxes are anything like as good as my precious Carthy one, then we’re in for some essential and exciting listening. If I happen to bump into Neil Wayne, I’ll gladly buy him a few pints of whatever real ale he fancies — as long as I don’t have to play rugby against him!
(Free Reed, 2002)
