Those lovely chaps at The Local teamed up with their equally lovely counterparts at The Line Of Best Fit to put on a simply superb Shhh event this weekend. If you've never attended a Shhh, it consists of a bunch of musicians, playing their (ordinarily) quiet and gentle tunes, whilst the general public look on appreciatively and keep their gobs shut.
Sweet little venue St. Margaret's House / The Gallery Café in Bethnal Green played host to this year's Shhh:
Gathering up a load of beer and Howard Local, arrival at the café brought a selection of the usual palaver (where's the lead for this? anyone got any gaffa tape?), but any teething problems were ironed out and the first acts were under way. I forget that offering to help out at things like this means you don't get to catch much of what's happening on the music front. Managed to watch a private recording of Tiny Ruins in a photography studio within the complex. She has such a gorgeous voice - you can have a listen on her site here:
Running the door after 6pm was my other task of the day, and I was lucky enough to share my chore with dear Scanny, who was his usual sharp-witted self. He even let me off a little time for good behaviour (and for sharing my salt and vinegar Discos), so I could catch my must-see of the day, R M Hubbert. He's a bit of a wonder, RM. His style of fingerpicking lies somewhere between John Martyn/Davey Graham (on Folk, Blues and Beyond) and flamenco - you get the picture. His wry, self-deprecating humour between songs is heartwarming. The way he speaks so openly and simply about his long-term depression and how it has shaped his work is very affecting, in a way that makes you want to just grab the man and give him a big squeeze (running the risk of being told to piss off).
As RM tells one story, the chit-chat from the crowd at the back of the room has risen a bit, and, quite rightly, there's a bit of serious 'shhh'ing going on (and not just from me and Lucy Local). One loud 'shhh' nearer the front has RM saying "are you shushing me? You'd better not be, 'cause I'll fuckin' have ye!" in his finest Glaswegian, followed by everyone laughing and him swiftly adding, "I look much harder than I am, actually". One piece I particularly loved was "For Joe", a piece written and dedicated to his dead father-in-law, who he obviously loved dearly and misses sorely (had a lump-in-the-throat moment here). I bumped into RM shortly after his set - he's a real gentleman and you really ought to check him out - superb:
Before the fun and musical games were over, the snow started to fall. It was pretty magical stuff, until I realised how heavy it was becoming, and that I'd be driving Team Local back to Crouch End in a blizzard. All went surprisingly well, though, with just one minor bit of pushing up Crouch Hill by my bosses for the day - well done, Howard and Lucy (I'd have had it licked if it hadn't been for that bloody black cab, though - learn to drive in snow, Southerners). Ditched the motor outside the pub and whisky nightcaps followed, with the general consensus being that Shhh had been a quietly resounding success for yet another year.
**Shhh poster by talented artist Luke Drozd - more right here, folkers:
