Last week I ran a shadow puppet making workshop in Malvern at a family holiday centre. The workshop was advertised for kids but all ages turned up – teenagers, adults and children some as young as four. Everyone joined in, either making puppets themselves or assisting others. The title, MONSTERS v ALIENS – Giant Shadow Puppets, was intended to inspire people’s imaginations and it certainly did that.

Unfortunately we only had two sessions (there were many other activities) as I’d liked to have developed a drama using the puppets. In schools I have used shadow puppets very effectively in Halloween celebrations, or to dramatize stories about Space, Underwater (ponds and oceans), Underground (caves) and so on. They work very well with music, songs and story telling. They can also be made by people of all ages and abilities and, once a screen and light-source have been obtained, can be made very cheaply.

I overheard the phrase ‘a million love songs’ on the radio the other day and, though I missed the context, the words lodged in my mind. It seemed like the cue for a song but I couldn’t think of anything – especially as I’ve always been rubbish at romantic material. However I began, not knowing where it would lead. Then, much to my surprise, I realised I was writing a song from a woman’s point of view. It also became something of a piss-take. I suppose it reflects my attitude to most ‘proper’ love songs which I never could take seriously even though they form the subject of over 90% of popular material. Even hard-bitten folkies, when not droning on about worker’s rights, mining disasters or the plight of the lower orders (despite themselves barely having soiled their hands in honest toil, except gardening maybe) will lapse into romantic ballads as a default position. Love is, I suppose, a universally understood topic which can be viewed from a myriad angles.

A Million Love Songs   

You can sing a million love songs, 

Dance all night for what it’s worth.                                          

Offer chocolates and pretty flowers, 

Even promise all the Earth.                                                        

But you know what – I’m not impressed. 

After what you did I couldn’t care less.                                     

Your words are as empty as a drum.                                       

Why don’t you go back home – to your poor old mum?

You can roam the streets at midnight, like a tom cat by the old canal.

But you might as well go jump in, only thing I’d do is smile.

And you know what? I don’t give a damn. If you’re gone with the wind or kick the can.

Just like in the American Civil War, but you never were Clark Gable, that’s for sure.

You could build a golden palace, but the garden would be full of thorns.

And though you tell me I’m your princess, you can’t hide your little horns.

And you know what – my only regret? Allowing you to see me so upset.

But the tears I cried were maybe not in vain, even Jeremy Kyle said you’re a pain.

Though you sang a million love songs, every one was out of tune.

And your dancing just looked stupid, like David Brent – the Office goon.

And you know what – I will admit. Though this TV programme is the pits.

For my 15 minutes of fame – worth every bit.

But you know what? You’re still a s…….

The NE SWAP (North East – Song Writer’s and Performers) group met at the Old Comrades Club on Friday for their monthly get-together. We usually take turns leading the sessions and last week it was Jim Wigfield’s. He brought along a song, as a kind of template, that we could insert our own verses into. It was a kind of narrative with each contributor writing an age-specific verse. We ‘could’ve, would’ve, should’ve done such and such, etc.. I worked with Chris Kelly who is a brilliant musician and songwriter but, I think, found this exercise rather alien. As did I, to be honest. What I’d have preferred was take away the concept and compose my own version, changing the melody and structure. However, that was not allowed and after half an hour or so we had to return and sing our section in the appropriate place. As an exercise it was fun, though, as Chris remarked, somewhat stressful to be put on the spot.

After a break we came back and went round the table singing our latest compositions. I did ‘Award Of The White Feather’ which tells the story of my uncle Ralph who was a conscientious objector in WWI and, following traumatic times in prison and later psychiatric hospital, never recovered from his illness (dying in 1962). As its the 100th anniversary of the war there’s a lot of coverage in the media – mostly applauding the sacrifice and courage of those who enlisted or were called up. They were, however, mostly ignorant of what carnage would be experienced. Maybe Ralph understood this and made a stand as a way of warning people. Of course, given the patriotic jingoism and downright misinformation put out by those in power its not surprising COs were so despised. Even if one did not agree with them one cannot deny their courage in standing up for their beliefs – I doubt if I could have. Also, was it not the freedom to dissent which gave us the moral high ground (if that’s what we had)? War is a kind of insanity (as the song says) where normally sensible and intelligent people allow emotions to dominate (see Israel – Gaza now) and where sensitive individuals might easily find it difficult to remain sane. At the end of most wars, what has been achieved? Usually, as the song goes, absolutely nothing!

Curvy Sounds is a brilliant little independent music shop in Heaton Hall Road (junction of Falmouth Road) in Newcastle upon Tyne. I found it through an ad in The Crack, the local listings magazine, but probably wouldn’t have discovered it otherwise even though I live just down the road. Andrew Mills, the owner and manager along with his wife, is an amiable chap with expertise of instrument repair and related technical matters to a high level (he actually had proper training). The shop is an Aladdin’s cave full of instruments of all sorts, guitars, banjos, mandolins, etc, and many colourful ethnic ones including lots of percussion.

The shop is also one of the few in Newcastle/Gateshead that sell second-hand instruments and there are usually many tempting bargains on offer. I recently part-exchanged an old Yamaha acoustic guitar for a newer Ozark and was not disappointed, especially as Andrew sorted out some problems with the pick-up. Recently I brought in my guitar-banjo for possible part-exchange but, as yet can’t make up my mind. Both instruments (mine’s a Tanglewood and Andrew’s is an Ozark – by coincidence) are listed at around the £200 mark and each in good condition. The Ozark has a shorter neck, is lighter in weight and sounds rather more like a real banjo than mine. Though pretty cheap both instruments have a good feel and are easy to play with a nice action. I guess the Tanglewood has some emotional value as it accompanied me to Oklahoma for the Woody Guthrie folk festival but, on the other hand, it’s only a material object and I guess one shouldn’t get too attached.

By the way, there aren’t many guitar-banjos (or banjitars) around – only a few makes. Apart from the two mentioned above the most expensive are Deering (American) – various models, all above $1000. There’s also Gold Tone who do their cheapest (that I found) at £379.95 going up to £819.95. There may be others I don’t know of. Nor have I played many of them. Before the Tanglewood I had a cheaper Chinese banjitar  I prefer ‘ganjo’) which sounded rather tinny but was quite well made. To be honest I wouldn’t recommend one of these machines unless you have a clear idea of what you want to play on it – it’s a very personal thing. I find it useful when recording to vary the sound because, though I have both a 4 string tenor banjo and 5 string conventional banjo, I’m not really a banjo player but a banjitar conveys that illusion.