The Woodford Files 2014-2015: The Soldier’s Wife, December 2014

Image courtesy of Sugarrush Music
Image courtesy of Sugarrush Music

One of our roving Timber and Steel reporters, Bill Quinn, has 36 000 rules and observations for festivals. An important one this time of year is that if you sit in one place for the whole festival, then eventually the whole festival passes you by.

And so it was on Boxing Day that one of these myriad chance happenings happened.

Sitting in the cool of the Tokyo Bar at Woodford Folk Festival, sipping cool ginger beer on ice, the lovely Chanel Lucas turned to say g’day, and how are you going, and whatcha doing? “I’m becoming a Queenslander for four months, and you?” I’m about to perform a song in a themed concert called The Soldier’s Wife.

(For porpoises of clarification, Bill is the new temporary Queenslander and Chanel is performing in The Soldier’s Wife.)

This led to a meeting with the just as lovely Deborah Suckling, the brains and organisational brawn behind The Soldier’s Wife. Currently an irregularly performed concert, matching female singer-songwriters with “..the partners of Australian servicemen – both past and present – and putting the experience, emotions and lives of those women into song”.

Read more about this wonderful project and the fundraising goodness it does for Legacy Australia at Sugarrush Music.

And/or push play on the link below and hear Deborah tell us all about it in a tick over eight minutes:

*** Audio file will be deleted by the end of March 2020 ***

*** Audio file will be deleted by the end of March 2020 ***

TSW1
Image courtesy of Sugarrush Music

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A Punter’s Perspective February 2014: Phone Drones

Put the bloody thing away!
Put the bloody thing away!

A Punter’s Perspective

Random observations on the wide, weird world of folk from the side of the stage

Phone Drones

First published in Trad and Now magazine, February 2014

A funny thing happened on the way from the Illawarra Folk Festival.

It was Monday morning and I was walking to the Bulli train station in the light drizzle, a damp swag slung o’er the shoulder, a song in my heart and a tune in my pancreas. And as is my wont on a post-festival morn, I was ruminating on the music and song-filled days just passed when it suddenly struck me.

Something had been missing. Something had not been there. There had been a yawning chasm, a gaping void.

I couldn’t recall one single mobile phone sounding in a concert venue.

Not one loud blast of ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’ at an inopportune time.

No sudden fanfare of Morris Dancing’s greatest hit in inglorious polymorphic tones.

And while others may have suffered in the auditory department from SMS Alertsville, I could not recall one chirp, beep or apocryphal whistling tone* to announce an incoming text message.

(* I’m a liberal with a small ‘l’, but the creation and use of this whistling alert sound for text messages is, in my book, justification enough for the re-introduction of capital punishment. Especially on Sydney trains.) Continue reading