We do our bit, as a band, to bridge the north/south divide. With 3/4 of the band hailing from God’s own county, the promised lands, Yorkshire. And then there’s Dean. He claims he is from Derbyshire (the south) - though his birth certificate clearly states he was born in Sheffield. Awkward.
We only mention this as last night at Raising the Rafters, we supported the lovely Roísín Bán - their band name meaning ‘White Rose’. A nod to Yorkshire, the dales, and a little shopping centre just off Elland Road (that’s a niche reference for you, all you need to know is there is a shopping centre called The White Rose. It’s Beeston’s smaller, naffer, version of Meadowhall).
Speaking of naff! We were back in Wath and the excitement for the naffle (naff raffle) was palpable. Really knowing how to keep the tension up - Andy wouldn’t tell us what the ‘top prize’ was until he started the draw. And you lot can wait too! We’re nothing if not chronological…
We arrived in plenty of time and Beth’s mum bought her tickets. We thought we better put that in writing. BETH’S MUM BOUGHT TICKETS. It was a rare scene as she opened her purse and the moths flew out. Nice one Jude. Proud. Beth has an irrational fear of moths, and this may be where it stems from. Beth’s sister has an irrational fear of birds. This may seem irrelevant but:
Need we say more? Probably. You may be asking yourself why is there a parrot there? But ask yourself that again and you will probably find the answer. To enjoy the music like everyone else - and heckle… Like everyone else.
As the night began, Dean tried to peddle some Tesco own brand Strepsils. Katy’s brother (David) knew better than to accept - they really are a gateway to the heavier stuff and, before you know it, you’re having Fisherman’s Friends for breakfast and gargling Covonia after meals. David says no, children. Be like David.
The level of talent showcased from floor spots was, as always, divine. There were loud, powerful voices, poetry, and a man called ‘Welsh John’ - we still don’t know why… An enigma, wrapped in a mystery, tied up in cloak and dagger string. Who are you Welsh John? Who?
As we get up for our spot - Ian contemplates whether he needs to use his Banjo as a weapon to stave off Dean’s fake-strepsil advances. Dean flashes his wares from inside the fake lining of his jacket, we’ve got Strep-Sols (Strepsils), Seaman’s Pals (Fisherman’s Friends), Calmers (Soothers), Toons (Tunes) and cough syrup, brewed at home in the communal lavvy. Katy, of course, being the superior of all the band members, easily rebuked the advances as she did, in fact, have her own Soothers. On Brand. Real Soothers. New cranberry flavour. Pft. The middle class. Must be nice, eating middle class fruit flavoured middle class sweets.
We had a great time singing and playing to a wonderfully attentive audience. Mya (the parrot) trilled along to a couple of songs. One of the big advantages of a parrot is that their whistles and chirps echo around and create a wonderful stereo trill. Unlike pigeons - who are useless because we all know - a coo doesn’t bounce around, a coo sticks (a coo sticks? Acoustics? No? Fine, please yourselves).
Anyway, the main event. Roísín Bán were superb. Truly. Something that can only come from a real love of music (and talent, certainly talent). Chris, Paddy and Gordon are clearly great musicians in their own right, but come together beautifully for a wonderfully varied set of jigs, reels, trad and contemporary songs (this is folk, so by contemporary we mean about 60 years old). There was also some brilliant dancing. Smiles throughout - there is nothing like a set where the musicians are clearly just having a really good time - and so were the audience.
All of this to raise money for Prostate Cancer UK - Raising the Rafters are proud to be the only folk club where all of their nights are to raise money for charities, chosen by the artists. And what a night it was. Next month will be Bob Chiswick, well worth going to see and guaranteed to be another amazing night. You can get tickets for that here.
The End.
JUST KIDDING - like we would let you leave without knowing about the naffle! Let me tell you, this month was a corker. Have you always wanted the perfect, perky pear? Ever thought to yourself, ‘gosh, these face masks are awful nice, if only they did something similar for my boobs?’. If you have found yourself thinking that (we have) then look no further! Beth is very pleased to announce that she did in fact win this glorious naffle prize, and she has never been happier. Watch out for the next Kootch outing, our eyes are up here boys, Dolly Parton eat yer heart out!
Love, Harmonies, Cwtch
Kootch x
