1970 was a personal turning point in many respects.
I went to my first rock concert in mid-December 1969, and I was slowly but surely entering the world of 'underground music'; a fair amount of what was to become known as 'progressive', but also large amounts of folk and acoustic material. That first concert was headlined by Ten Years After, supported by Blodwyn Pig and Stone The Crows. At the time, I thought that STC were bad, TYA were so-so, and BP were excellent. Quite on what basis I decided this, I'm not sure, as I wouldn't have heard much music to compare them by. As it happens, I never saw TYA nor BP again, although I saw STC two more times, and each time they seemed to improve, being very good at the end.
As it happens, I have recently downloaded this record from the Internet, although in the cd age, it is known as 'Nice enough to all join in': nine tracks from NETE, along with all twelve from the previous and less well known Island sampler, "You can all join in". I also own this record, although played it much less. The material from the earlier sampler tends more to the blues and rock end of the scale as opposed to the folk, jazz and progressive end, and found much less favour in my ears.
Fortunately, I have the missing songs from NETE on cd, so making a complete replacement of this lp won't be a problem. While I'm at it, I intend to replace the opening song, 'Cajun woman' by Fairport Convention. I have never liked this song and don't see why I should put it on the collection. On the other hand, I'm not sure with which song I'll replace it from 'Unhalfbricking'; probably 'Genesis Hall', but I could change my mind.
About two months later, I went to see another triple bill: Fotheringay, John and Beverly Martin, Nick Drake. The case of ND is interesting: at the time, his name was well known in my circles, as he has a track on NETE, "Time has told me". But I have absolutely no memory of his appearance (neither what he looked like nor how or what he played); whilst this in itself doesn't mean anything (I went to concerts about once every two weeks and could hardly remember everyone), I did keep a record of all the concerts, and in one case annotated the listing of someone who was supposed to have played but didn't show up with the note "didn't play". As Nick doesn't have this note, I imagine that he did play. As it happens, a few days ago I was looking at one Nick Drake site (in preparation for his "new" cd), and someone was discussing the few concerts that he did perform. Included was the show that I attended. All three acts were signed to Joe Boyd's 'Witchseason' company and he produced their records.
There was a misunderstanding regarding which Habonim camp I was supposed to attend that summer, or maybe a misprint regarding the ages. Anyway, I went to a camp with teenagers in the year group above mine, and as a result knew hardly anybody. It didn't matter: I very quickly became friends with a few boys with remarkably similar backgrounds and tastes to mine, friendships which were very strong and which I thought would last forever (ten years would be more accurate).
We spent that summer rolling around the hills and valleys of Herefordshire. At every camp, we would pack up and go on a hike whose length depended on the campers' age: the young children went out for just one day, the next age group went out for three days (i.e. two nights spent out in bivouac tents which we had to carry), and at this camp we went out for five days. Although it might sound like a slog, these hikes were actually great fun, and a good way to get to know everybody.
The hike in 1970 started on my birthday, and I assumed that this year I was going to escape being tossed up in a blanket. Little did I know. After we arrived at our makeshift campsite, built a bonfire and had supper, someone reached into their rucksack and brought out ... a slightly battered birthday cake! I was very surprised and also very happy.
Another event which I had almost forgotten took place on the penultimate day of the hike. It must have been raining very hard for we spent the night in a village infants' school as opposed to camping in our tents. The evening's activity was based around readings from the poetry book "The Mersey Sound"; to quote from this book's wiki, "The book had a magical effect on many people who read it, opening their eyes from "dull" poetry to a world of accessible language and the evocative use of everyday symbolism". It certainly opened my eyes, and when I returned home, I bought the book and commenced writing poetry.
After the five day hike which took us through Hereford itself, we then settled down on the banks of the River Wye and learnt how to canoe: we had three days of canoeing down the river in front of us. The first morning I went out with a girl in a two person canoe (I don't remember how I came to be with her), and we capsized within a hour as we went over rapids. After lunch I decided to continue in one of the one person canoes. I must have found this very boring, as the next day found me sharing with another girl. I think that we must have switched partners twice a day, as I can remember sharing with quite a few girls. This was an excellent way to spend time, and also get to know the other person.
After the camp finished, two of my good friends from the previous year came to stay with me for a few days. They had been to the camp to which I was supposed to have gone, and took great pains to tell me how much I had missed (maybe I too was missed). I didn't feel disappointed at all, as I felt that I had had a wonderful two weeks and having spent them with older people, I felt more grown up and mature.
Winter camp though saw me back with my normal peer group. Another great time was had by all, especially by myself, receiving an eye-opening sexual initiation (although I was prepubescent at the time and so could only take advantage of what was offered me in a fairly innocent way).
Roll on 1971....
No comments:
Post a Comment