T C M F 2024
Busker #251 and the Accordion Walker - Peel St, Tamworth, Jan 2024.
It’s all over. It was my 22nd consecutive home town country music jamboree, being a performer at all but one. It was very hot, as usual - the deathly photons casting daytime activities as a glaring din - the night being a period of relief. But this year I was more of an observer than usual. The Re-mains played two shows, the first at the Tamworth Hotel, on day one of the festival was certainly one of our worst in many years, a misstep that caught us off-guard. It could be put down to lack of prep and a reliance on the laws of expectancy, but the fact is, you get that. What it meant was that the next gig would likely be the reciprocal, and this turned out to be the case with our slot at the revamped Nundle Rocks shindig being a cracker of a show, one of our best in years. Everything just flowed. But that was it for us. Gone are the days of fielding 8 to 10 back-to-back dates that blur into incoherence and ringing ears. But it’s very nice to know the goods are still there, if not the impetus. The only other time I played was at Andrew Clermont’s Supper Club, where I sheepishly joined the jazz and blues cats on the first live outing of my 12 string pedal steel. It was curious to see the heads of George Washing Machine, Anthony Walmsley and Robbie Long turn at the sound of my likely misplaced application of that potentially heady instrument, but who knows. It worked in my mind, but those guys know so many chords and manage to place them where there are usually only three. >>>> By and large, for ten straight days, I manned the guitar-repairing/stringing station at Capitol Music, Tamworth’s only music shop (when I was a kid there were 4 or 5). That kept me out of the solar flares and other trouble while allowing me to keep some kinda finger on the festival pulse. It can get interesting and sometimes quite funny in there. >>>> Elsewhere I took in the big council run stage for a few nights, once to see Freddie Bailey rip out some killer solos on his new Oopeg endorsement axe, another time to listen to some authentic black-fella country from the Kimberley region, another time to take in some mainstream country stuff, then finally another time to see/hear who got to take out the big Toyota-sponsored “Star Maker” contest. A cowboy looking chap took the top gong with his slightly intense stage demeanor and a voice that seemed ill-at-ease with his surroundings. He wore a denim shirt emblazoned with various other sponsors names, not the least of them being Wrangler. It struck me at some point during this festival that a lot of what constitutes mainstream “country” - at least to me - comes across like rock music for people who don’t want the oomph of the real thing. A lot of artists use backing-tracks, biggish guitars, rock n roll drums and a style of presentation that says bold and brash, but always, it stays nice and goodly. Hey, good luck to them. It’s better than blowing peoples brains out in some theatre of war, but it’s another planet as far as I’m concerned. I need the visceral. >>>> Down Peel St is the other thing - where dreams are woven and put out to trial in the screeching heat. The contenders range from cashed-up nil-talents with all the graphic artwork, slick merch and powerful PA systems, to the folks with a crappy guitar and the iron-will to busk for funds to actually make it back home. Busker #251 shown above was one of those guys. I rather enjoyed his variable takes on Johnny Cash classics on a guitar I repaired for him a few days earlier. Some other moustachioed and croc-wearing fellas liked him too. The Accordion Walker really wanted in on the action, but, ignored, he ambled off into the camping gear shop, still playing. Earlier, he thumbed an electric piano in Capitol Music while I strung up another guitar. He said he might buy it for the right price. He told me I was sitting in his chair. I have no idea what he meant.