Hi All, 
Just to keep you in the loop. Things have been a little quiet here at "Folk Bloke Central" but a few events are coming up so please have a look at my shows page to see if anything is happening near you. I have a bit of a special event this Saturday at Marysville. The wonderful instrument maker Chris Ffinch has organised and event featuring Maton's brilliant Custom Shop luthier Andy Allen this Saturday at the Little Fishes Gallery in Marysville at about 2.00pm. I am honoured to cap off Andy's presentation with a rendition of the song "Black Saturday" written by myseld and my brother Richard. What makes it really special is that I will be playing it on a guitar made from blackwood rescued from my father's property at Marysville after the fires. To make it even more special the guitar was built by Andy and we presented it to Chris on his retirement from Maton guitars after more years than I care to mention. Chris is also a Marysville resident and lost his house in the fires as well.
So there you go. Come along if you get the chance.
I will also be doing a concert with my good friend and musical collaborator Suzette Herft this Sunday at St Catherine of Sienna Church, Melton West at 4pm.
Next Saturday night sees meself, Emma Rodda and Rob Hornbuckle and maybe one or two others playing as the Wrenboys for a half hour set as part of a fundraiser for motor nuerone disease along with a whole bunch of fantastic Parry bands from the glory days of the 90's and early 2000's. It's at the Celtic club and bound to be a great night. We'll be on about 9.45pm. 
Later in the month I'll be performing "Farewell Angelina" with Suzette Herft at the Maldon Folk Festival (I'll also be there representing Maton as we are proud sponsors of the "Roddy Read" songwriting competition) and doing a set of original songs with Suzette at Bar 303 as part of the Darebin Songwriter's Guild contribution to The Darebin Music Feast.
Check out the shows page for more details on any of these shows.

i happened to sit down at the breakfast table this morning and glance through the Herald Sun (having found my glasses, I can only make out the headlines these days). What probably struck me most was the front page headline screaming out about an exclusive interview with the woman involved in the affair with Wayne Carey that caused so much drama down at North Melbourne Footy Club over 10 years ago. Somewhere about page 10 was some reports about the refugee crisis in Europe and somewhere in the middle of the paper a short report on a massive Tsunami and earthquake that hit Chile and Santiago in the last day or so.
My first reaction was to condemn the Murdoch rag for the rubbish that it is but thinking further I think this speaks more to who we are than we would like to admit. My Dad used to say that there was nothing new under the sun and one could learn all one needed to know about the world today by studying history and the bible. I'm beginning to think he was right (at least with the history bit anyway). 
The Roman poet Juvenal decried the decline of Roman heroism and accused the Roman population of selling their freedom for "bread and circuses". It's not hard to see the same tendencies with our own society as we bang on about celebrity cooks and sporting heroes rather than taking on the tough questions of our time. And it's understandable too, really, how much can we really do about the endless tales of agony and horror coming from every corner of the world? It's all too much.
So, we scurry for our comfort zones and one of the places we feel most comfortable is in our village...
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a few different places so I got to see the big city as a youngster but also grow up in, and understand, life in a small country town. After an early childhood in the cultural melting pot that was North Carlton we moved to Torquay on the surf coast and then to Drysdale on the Bellerine Peninsula. I spent grade 4 at Torquay and grade 5 onwards at Drysdale. Drysdale was a small town in those days, a population of about 1000 and everybody knew everybody's business. It didn't take me long to develop the country town wave where you wave at every car that passes by without even looking because you'll know the occupants and they'll give you a hard time nest time you see them at Church or at the football if you ignored them. 
I thrived in the small town. Suddenly I wasn't one of the anonymous masses. People knew who I was and had a role for me, either in a sports club or the church choir or in the Scouts. I was still a bit of of an outsider (being the new kid in town) but I was "the outsider", that was my role along with my brothers and sisters. My youngest sister Liz was so young she was never an outsider. She was what they call "old Drysdale". Eventually I had to flee life in the small town. There wasn't much opportunity for a wanna be singer songwriter / guitar maker in a town where the main money maker was potatoes (these days it seems to be tourism and boutique wines) so I had to go to the next size up, Geelong, and eventually to Melbourne.
But I still identify with life in a small town which is why I was so struck by the story of the Coo-ee March of 1915. Captain Bill Hitchen and his brother R.G.Hitchen set out from Gilgandra in October 1915 on a march that became known as the Coo-ee March. They marched from small town to small town eventually finishing up in Martin Place, Sydney where they joined up and headed off to the great unknown. Of course many of them never came back and I wonder had they known what they were heading into, how many of them would have gone. I suspect most to be honest. There was a strong sense of civic duty and pride of King, country and empire that is hard to understand today. I still remember leaning over the boundary fence watching Drysdale footy team vs Portarlington and seeing out local motor mechanic running down the steps onto the ground all shiny with rubbing oil and ready to give the Port boys a bit of biffo. This is what it would have felt like watching those young boys falling in with Captain Bill as the Coo-ee March came through and heading off to give the Hun or the Turks a whack.
So, how do I tie all this together? Well, the front page of the Herald Sun is pretty much like the gossip that spread around Drysdale like wildfire when one of the local lads bogged his Dad's car in the bunker of the local golf course while doing burn outs (unbeknownst to his Pa) and the Coo-ee March reflects the  pride and commitment of small town people (and maybe the mistaken belief that putting in will make a difference, even on a global scale). 
Lastly, I wrote a song about the Coo-ee March and I was rapt to hear it played by Macca on Australia All Over last weekend.
I thought I'd post it here so you can hear it again if you missed it on Macca.
Cheers
Patrick

Well what a month this has been! Apart from a sensational show with Suzette Herft and Pete Fidler at the Spotted Mallard last week (where we launched not one, but two CD's) it's been a crazy time of moving things around and generally trying to keep it all together. Hence.... no blogs. Things are a bit quiet on the gigs front too for the next little while so it's time to do get started on my version of the great Australian novel, in other words, my first solo album.
So, to get you up to date (as if anyone's really interested but I've noticed that successful people seem to live a life of never ending newsworthy events so I'm going to try and pretend I'm the same) me, Ann and our daughter Sofia (of "You're too fat to fly" fame) are currently living with Ann's parents in Coburg while our house is undergoing major surgery (renovation I believe it's called) and the last month has been pretty well taken up with all of that. Needless to say practicing is a bit of an issue when living in somebody else's place but I've borrowed my friend Ian Young's "silent" Yamaha guitar which is a real "boon" (as my Granny used to say). Now I can play as long and as loud as I like and maintain domestic harmony. Hooray!!! 
I've also been busy in the studio with Gordon hammering away at some pre-production versions of songs for the forthcoming album (which has a working title of "Now That's A City Lemon For Sure!" but I'm open to suggestions on this) and I thought I'd give you a little sneak preview of what will, eventually, turn into a pretty decent little song. This is "Midweek Valentino" which is the song that won me the Peninsula Folk Club Songwriting Competition. It has it's origins on a number of places and times but I think anyone who has either played at or been a punter at many of the midweek venues around Melbourne will recognize the characters in the song. You might even see yourself in there somewhere, I know I'm in there a bit. One of my favourite literary moments is in "The French Lieutenant's Woman" in which the author, John Fowles, writes himself into the novel as a character in a train wondering what to do next with the protagonist. This is what I love about writing. There really are no rules and you can go wherever you want to and be whoever you like. So, in "Midweek Valentino" there I am on a bar stool watching the scene unfold. Come join me and we'll have a drink for Valentino........
 

A few years ago I was having dinner with my colleague and friend Rob Marsh (a true gentleman and a fine singer songwriter to boot, also a bottomless source of trivial information about just about anything) and he asked mt the "desert island disc" question. "If you had to settle for just one record for the rest of your life what would it be?" I thought for a bit and then it just popped out "Penguin Eggs by Nick Jones". I probably thought I was being clever and obscure but I should have known better. Not only did Rob have 'Penguin Eggs' but he had everything else by Nick Jones as well..... Of course he did, Rob's like that! So then I had to justify my call, why 'Penguin Eggs' and not 'Sergeant  Pepper' or 'Dark Side Of The Moon' or something better known and more successful?
I vaguely remember hearing of Nick Jones and the dreadful car accident that ended his career in 1982. I was just a bit young to really have appreciated him at the time (I was 19 and still only scratching the surface of the world of folk music) and for whatever reason had not heard his music. I finally caught the Nick Jones bug when Janette Geri lent me a copy of 'Penguin Eggs" in the mid 90's. It was a revelation! Not because I had never heard anything like it before, but because it was like everything I'd heard before but brought to perfection in one album. It was all there. In my mind Nick was (and still is) the greatest of the English folk guitar players. There are elements of Martin Carthy, Davey Graham, Bert Jansch, Richard Thompson and the rest in Nick's playing but somehow it all comes together in a perfect package with Nick. This album somehow towers over his previous recordings as well. You can hear snippets of what's to come in the older albums but sometimes the groove isn't quite there or the arrangement is a bit over fussy or the song choices don't quite work. Whatever it is it sounds like the older works are stepping stones towards the final work in 'Penguin Eggs'. And so far we're just talking about the guitar playing, then there's his voice!
For me Nick is simply the best male folk singer in the English tradition full stop. He had a pure tone and tremendous control but used his voice in an understated way, never allowing the voice to come between the story and the listener. His timing and phrasing is wonderful, both vocally and on guitar (he also played fiddle, button accordion and recorders on the album I believe). 
The songs are wonderful. On the face of it mostly standard fare of the folk singer of the time but they're all gems in their own way and all given Nick's special treatment. I imagine he has a really dry sense of humour. How else could you sing "Give corn unto my horse mother, meat to my man John" and get away with it?
There is something impenetrable about Nick Jones. Having listened to this album thousands of times I'm none the wiser about the man. This is probably partly due to his accident and the fact that he has pretty much been out of view until very recently, but also due to his style. He seems to be content to let the music live it's own life with him almost as a presenter who's job it is to tell the tale with little or no reference to himself. Maybe it's a leap to far but I think of him as the Shakespeare of English folk music with 'Penguin Eggs' as his Hamlet (or should that be omelette???).....
Finally, and this has more to do with who I am than anything else, the style of the record is right up my street. For me the ultimate musical experience is in a small venue where the volume is just a touch above acoustic level and the audience are intent on listening to every facet of the performance. Frankly stadium shows leave me cold and I often find myself well and truly ready to leave about half way through a show. I love the intimacy of a small folk club where the interaction between performer and audience is immediate and personal. And... you can see exactly how the musician goes about his craft.
'Penguin Eggs' is that sort of album.
So, that's my Desert Island Disc. What's yours?

Okay, I admit it. To date this particular social experiment has been a little disappointing, well total rubbish really.
But I reckon I'm on to something this time!
I was out walking this morning and came up with the opening verse below. It's a true story. Some time in the late 80's I sold the violin I had inherited from my Grandfather to pay some bills or the rent or something. I've regretted it ever since; not because it was particularly brilliant (it was a German factory copy of a Stainer violin with a fairly hard tone) but because of what it represented. I sold it through Soundware Music in Geelong where I was working. I remember the lady who bought it really appreciated its history and swore she would look after it. I suspect there were quite a few of these violins around after the First World War when my Grandfather bought it so identifying at again would be almost impossible, but..... The case was quite distinctive as I stick a sticker on the lid which showed the Just Jeans ad from the late 70's featuring a young woman's naked bottom. Very rock'n'roll I thought at the time..... So, if anyone knows the whereabouts of this old Stainer copy violin with the tasteless sticker on the case I would love to know. I'd gladly buy it back!
Back to the song. I don't think this one will take long to finish. When you get a really good opening line the rest of the song tends to write itself. It's really just a matter of uncovering the story and then applying the usual song writing techniques to get it into shape. It's always easier when the story is real too. I guess this was the problem with the song about the guy and his wall (even he's given up on it I notice; It must be too cold to be out working on it). I had no idea about his story and he wasn't telling either. I'll post the finished song along with the lyrics once it's completed.
In the meantime there are a few gigs to talk about. I'll be back at the Peninsula Folk Club next Sunday (August 2) from 5.30pm doing a workshop on how to re-string your instrument and look after it. A little later on that evening as be performing a few brand new songs as one of the warm up acts for the main guest artists 'Interlude' who I am really looking forward to seeing.
Saturday August 8 sees Suzette Herft and myself at The Grande Cabaret Club in Hepburn Springs where we will be performing our shoe 'Farewell Angelina", a tribute to Joan Baez and Bob Dylan when they were the king and queen of the folk revival in the early 60's. The show starts at 1.00pm
Now for the big one! Suzette and I will be launching the CD of "Farewell Angelina" as well as Suzette's solo CD "Roses" at The Spotted Mallard on Thursday, August 27. The show starts at 8.00pm with "Angelina" and we'll be joined by the amazing Pete Fidler for the launch of "Roses" Details for this one on my shows page.
So, here is the opening verse of my new song and a picture of a Stainer violin in case you need help identifying one.
Cheers
Patrick

I often wonder what became of Grandpa's violin,
I sold it many years ago, 
When things were slow,
But even so,
I should have found a better way,
To bring some money in,