The Djukella Orchestra's brand new studio album, carefully crafted to soothe the soul and remind you it's the world, rather than you that has been going insane.
Comes in a beautiful gatefold case, with a 24 page booklet filled with musings, lyrics and some glorious photos by Yasmine Zarrouk and various others.
Includes unlimited streaming of The Fruitful Fells
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Home by Christmas - Robb Johnson
For Mr. Editor, Ian Hislop
When I first heard Roy Bailey’s version of this song on his truly inspiring swan-song, Live at Towersey, I was immediately struck by the poignance and concision of its poetry. Written by Robb Johnson in the late 90s as part of a song-cycle to commemorate the 80th anniversary of Paschendaele, while basking in the well-worn imagery of “the war to end all wars” it seems to effortlessly reach forward a century across a mere few syllables of lyric, leaving us gazing, poppy-dazzled into the abyss of the post-modern age.
I was initially inspired to learn it after hearing a large crowd of men shouting the words to Rule Britannia in the street, and being struck by how silly it sounds when stripped of its melody, and indeed most of its navy. Ever since we recorded this arrangement in the autumn of 2019, events have conspired to lay yet more weight on each of the verses in turn. It seems that every time Boris Johnson opens his mouth, he highlights yet another ominous flaw in his own rhetoric, be it invoking imperial pride to counter attempts to “de-colonise” our educational systems, or his assertion that with pluck and good-old British broo-ha-ha, all our woes would be over by Christmas.
The last time I met Roy was during one of the strangest weeks of UK politics I can remember, which seems quite a bold statement after these past few years. We were sharing the bill at a folk-club event in Cambridge on May Day 2017. The following Tuesday, Theresa May would call the snap General Election which signalled the start of her inevitable demise and catapulted Jeremy Corbyn to an almost messianic status for a summer.
The previous summer, the Labour party had become the biggest mass-political movement in Europe as all those who’d been driven away by the botched and amoral invasion of Iraq, lured into dis-engagement by certain “bookywooks” or towards other political parties in search of hope, flocked back in their droves for three pound membership, to support a truly progressive agenda; literally the first time in many people’s lives there seemed to be an option to vote for, rather than merely against a politician, or perhaps to give a Boaty McBoatface style two-fingers to the forces so intent on Corbyn’s demise, depending on your perspective, I suppose.
By the spring of 2017 however, the Punch & Judy Show of UK news had churned on, this wave of popular radical inspiration had well and truly ebbed, and in those days before the Maybot began her strong and stable mantra and set the next cycle in motion (I could swear a rogue team of televisual script-churners have been writing the news for the past few years), the spirit amongst the newly engaged left was fragmented at best, and rather listless. The blairites were plotting new parties, the post-industrial heartlands had already jumped ship for UKIP and eventually Boris, and the youth were yet to engage, leaving a simmering rump, seemingly well-stocked with idealists, zealots and downright nut-jobs.
Unbeknownst to us, the folk club had been through some kind of schism and formed two rival factions, so we arrived to a smaller crowd than I’d envisaged for the country’s premier socialist folk singer at a May Day extravaganza, but the walls were positively plastered, by some deeply zealous individual, with banners and cardboard signs from the very furthest reaches of the Class War end of the spectrum. Just before Roy played his set, we were treated to a visit from the local Labour MP, Daniel Zeichner; among the most pastel-shirted of new-labour’s ranks (who’d also imagined there might be a throng to canvas) accompanied by a photographer from the local press.
There followed some truly fist-in-mouth embarrassment as the the aforementioned posterer was as keen to be pictured with the politician as Mr. Eichner was to avoid the banners creeping into shot, and the organiser to tactfully remove the “ Death to Blarite Scum” sign which he was certain had already been secreted securely elsewhere. It was truly comic, in a deeply tragic way.
Despite all this, Roy put on a fine show, accompanied by his stalwart accompanist, driver and all-round enabler, Mark Block, and had everybody who did come singing in chorus to songs that need to be said. It was the last time I saw him, and though the mood was rather melancholic, he left us with a spring in our step and a song in our hearts. I trust he had a couple of warmer receptions before he passed away in November 2018 at the ripe old age of 83. Just to think, if the event had been a couple of weeks later we’d have been turning people away, and MPs would’ve been able to get all the promo shots they fancied. It was, as always, a pleasure to hear you sir. Rest in Peace.
credits
from The Fruitful Fells,
released July 6, 2021
Jez - Voice/Guitar/Harmonicas
Nye Parsons - Double-bass
Recorded by Mike West at Ninth Ward Pickin Parlor
Mastered by Nick Watson at Fluid Mastering
supported by 4 fans who also own “Home By Christmas”
Just another Superb well delivered album by this wonderful versatile artist very well recorded produced its a must for anyone's collection. Nancys vocals are brilliant as ever..
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