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Thursday, October 06, 2005

susan welch, courtesy BI Review, JIm Bryant photo

Susan Welch

Friday night live, Oct 7

Queuing efficiently in the Safeway speed line, I spot Eddie Williams looking his usual disreputable self and getting in everyone's way.

The man may know which way is north on the guitar but his trolley technique is positively Greek.

I have the chance of a Barbara Hershey look-alike lining up behind me but EJW puts paid to that and she drifts off to where Lani is bustling them thru with her usual non-nonsense deftness.

I cuss him out, first having checked that the lovely Georgia Browne isn't in earshot to duke me out for dissing her man.

Eddie reminds me of the new First Friday and the tone of his voice brooks no argument.

I nod agreement, pay for my smoked salmon, caviar and jeroboam of bubbly and hurry out before old gravel-voice can engage me in further conversation.

eddie williamsJoking apart, Eddie is one the greats - guitar, smokey voice, harmonica. A generally hip 'n' happening pal.

His "Someday" album is rarely off my CD player and there's a DJ down in Brighton UK who regularly taunts listeners to her show with tracks 1 and 2, "Between the old and the new" and "Whiskey Angel".

They phone in and demand, "Who IS  that?", to which she murmurs in that husky Southampton tone that wrenched me from Holy Orders, "Ah, well, you'll have to book a ticket to Seattle for that one."

Teasing as ever.

English readers will be flipping their lid over this post: Yeh well, pals, shoulda made me famous on Albion's shores and I'd not even have *known* about EJW and Dusty Rose - know what I mean?

My only beef with Eduardo is that, as if it wasn't enough to sing n play so well, the rapscallion also consorts with the smashing Georgia Browne, mention of whom I fit in wherever possible just to keep him on his toes.

Even less in jest, the Friday he talks of - THIS Friday, so wake up all y'all - is Susan Welch's kick-off of the 2005 First Friday.

The BI Review covers it, page 3, New songs from an old island favorite, keyword search "Welch".

"Susan Welch opens this year’s First Friday Concert Series, back on the musical track with a CD “Into the Midnight Waltz”.

Welch and Billy Forrester released “Eleven Eleven” under the name Dusty Rose.

Welch favors playing the mandola – an eight-string instrument that resembles the mandolin, but is a bit larger and tuned lower – because it has unique voicing.

“It’s in the mid-range of the guitar. I can play guitar, but I can always find guitar players who are so much better,” she said. “I’m better as an accompanist.”

Welch will be joined on stage by the musicians who appear on her CD: Larry Johnson, Carol Anspach, Art Hanlon, Billy Forrester and Liam Graham."

  • Friday night live
  • Susan Welch and Friends kick off the First Friday Concert Series at 7:30 p.m
  • Oct. 7, Island Center Hall, Fletcher Bay Road.
  • Tickets at the door: $8 for adults and $5 for ages 6-18.

    I've posted about Susan and Billy before, wayy back in my coverage of the June 17 Bagel Bacchanalia.

    I shall add all links anon, but meanwhile I'm listening to 11 11 and the beautiful Lighter Side of Blue which has Susan at her lilting voiced best and Mr Forrester dazzling as usual in his quiet efficient way on backing.

    Dynamite lyrics such as:

    "Have a little coffee with my headlines ... something happen to me, I'll be the first to know ...

    Got a job, got a home, gotta family, Seems the whole damn'd world depends one me ..."

    I can't do justice in a mere blog. Hunt down the album and buy it. Be there on the 7th; clear the tubes.

    Hear wondrous talent and class.

    Post Script: My own Lightener of Blue has just called in after a gruelling day over a hot keyboard. She kneads as she reads over my shoulder:

    "Will you be drunk when you write this?" she coos.

    Oh ha ha.

    But this a lady who, in her London editrice days, once evaluated a typescript of a lightly air-brushed "novel" by a bulky and highly respected member of London's crime czars.

    I happened to be in her office when he arrived for the verdict.

    A gent before whom all quailed - "She yer bird, then? Orl rite for some. Good on yer, mate" - he leaned forward and asked "So, wotcha think, then?"

    Brandishing the grimey wodge of type, she said,

    "There's something wrong with this. What is it?"

    Deathly silence and I saw his cauliflower ears redden. Very probably, the last unfortunate who dared speak that way had some prompt refurbishment on his knee caps.

    "F*** me, girl. You'll do. Gimme a week, ok? I know what you mean.

    Lemme see ... can't do the twelf coz that's the Kray reunion ... can't do Wenzday coz I promised the lads I'd be there when Jimmie gets it.

    How abaht the next Toozday? That do you?"

    "Tuesday the 8th? Make it 4pm."

    Big wink at me.

    "Yer on."

    "We don't actually have to meet. Just leave it at the desk."

    "G'w'on - let's meet. I'll have two tickets for the fight. Front seats, slap-up nosh after. Bring yer geezer 'ere."

    That line, "There's something wrong with this. What is it?"

    Twenty years later, I used it to the creative director of a major ad agency in Hong Kong. Stopped a meeting, provoked muted applause.

    But I'm losing the thread, which is be there on the 7th.

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