Frome Festival, where rain never stops play

Despite the loss of indoor venues, the 2021 Frome Festival succeeded in providing an opulence of visuals, sounds, and activities in an incredible diversity of events - in fact it's incredible that the last ten days of brilliant entertainment right across town have been almost entirely outdoors. 

 This 10-day fiesta, which began last Friday, has been crammed with activities and performances - let's start with The Opening although it wasn't actually till Wednesday: a three-night music event on a pop-up stage in the Silk Mill yard, organised by Dave Smith whose sensational drumming was a festival highlight in itself.  All three sessions were brilliant: pictured (above) are Mohammed Errebbaa & Driss Yamdah on the second night - which also gave us sensational sisters Currer Bell - and Frome's Pete Gage on keyboard, one of five fabulous acts on the final night.

Still shuffling personal highlights, shifting to Tuesday now for the  Poetry Cafe on ECOS amphitheatre where rain threatened all evening but only delivered briefly once, and 45 people spaced themselves on the stones to listen to twenty original poems performed on the open-mic by their writers, with mega-popular Liv Torc as guest.  Liv is always brilliant and the quality of the open-mic readers is amazing: check out for instance this stunning poem from Karl Bevis about the silencing of theatre I am not viable.  I have absolutely loved the privilege of running this Poetry Cafe from its inception twenty years ago: I'm stepping down now but I'm sure spoken word/slam/standup/ performance poetry will continue in Frome, whatever name it goes by. Thanks Annabelle for the picture, taken from the far end of the amphitheatre.

Town walks are always popular in the festival, and this year they were more popular than ever, with themes ranging from biodiversity in the churchyards to Frome's history in terms of Slavery, Sedition, and Sin -  this one was led by historian David Lassman and me - here's the final stop with David expounding routines at the old workhouse in the second of our 2 sold-out trips. Eleanor Talbot's  latest Variations on a Theme programmes includes a focus on our talks - you can hear a bit of the interview at 19.40 minutes in, with the rest at 40.10. Episode 91 continues the festival tale, with more reviews and comedy clips.

Frome's quirky comedy duo Rare Species also offered a historical walk, though somewhat less reliable in factual data: here they re-enact the opening of Jenson Button bridge while actually on the footbridge.  

The Hidden Gardens trail, outdoor entertainment of the horticultural kind, is always popular - this year over 800 maps of private gardens open at the weekend were bought by avid visitors. This is an absolutely lovely part of the festival, as Frome shares its passion for nature so generously, with 32 gardens to visit - I only managed ten but they were all magnificent in various ways. Here's one of several with a sumptuous lily pond, this one attended by glittering damsel flies.

Another popular aspect of individuals' involvement is the Open Art Trail, offering festival-goers an opportunity to see the work and studios of our many local artists - fifty of them in fact, in 21 venues including outlying villages. Again, it's impossible to pick a 'best' from this amazing diversity of talent: here's St Mary's Church on Innox hill converted temporarily into a festival gallery!

St John's Church in the town centre always puts on a flower show for festival: the theme this year was 'Reconnection', expressed in displays created by members of the Frome Floral Art Society. Arrangements combined props to represent positive themes: the journey back to the outside world was expressed in various ways, one unprepossessingly adding a union jack, but this is a nicer one.

Also art, of a curious kind, was the Secret Staircase which provided private access to a location revealed after booking, and fifteen minutes of strange & strangely calming music composed by Helen Ottoway & played by Nick Sorensen. There were several of these mysterious locations around town and mine transpired as the 3 floor stairwell in the Silk Mill studios, originally nonexistent but ingeniously added by current owners Kate & Damon Moore by cutting a hole through all the floors and literally building it step by step. Just another of the curious tales of Frome's secret history. 

The final Sunday gave a chance to see a few more gardens, and art venues, and to pop into the Picnic in the Meadow where Rodden meadow was offering stalls and family entertainment - here's popular local band The Hoodoos harmonising, conveniently close to the Active & In Touch tea'ncake stall...

Ending this festival edition with a return to Marston Park for the finale, as the rain fell steadily on the lake and even the ducks scuttled into our covered stage area, and Bonne Nouvelle played two sets of their delicious mellow, nouvelle-vague style, covers. A superbly quirky finale to a fantastic week of Frome Festival.

And if one image could sum up my festival, it would be this snap by Rosie Eliot, of us happily ignoring the weather, and the state our country's in - just enjoying music and reconnecting our friendships.

Some of the bright bits, as January shuffles out...

There seems no limit to the ingenuity of creatives and communicators when finding ways to wriggle under the wire of isolation. Terminus, created by Frome Drama Club, is a brilliant example: a drama auditioned, cast, & rehearsed on zoom, then recorded on zoom in the actors' own homes against a virtual background. The entire project from concept to realisation is superb: acting, production, every aspect of design, and the complex interwoven script co-written by director John Palmer. The setting is a fast train to Norwich. 

On board are seven of the cast - including the driver - with one waiting for the stop at Diss, one at the the end of the line, and another slowly reading the letter that will explains all.  It's clear from early on that these peoples' lives will all be revealed as intertwined by the time the journey terminates - and it becomes increasingly clear that this will not be Love-Actually style.  To keep the unravelling saga fast-moving, many of the screens show multiple images of the travellers, each immersed in their own dialogues. All the cast were convincing in their roles but one whose performance was particularly memorable is Tabitha Lamb as the little girl travelling in the cab to join her mother.

Poetry now, in another Zoomed 'Speakeasy' night, this time promoted by Theatre Orchard in Weston-super-Mare and hosted by Bob Walton, with an open mic session and Rebecca Tantony as guest. 

Bob was a popular visitor to Frome Poetry Cafe shortly after the publication of his first collection, Sax Burglar Blues, and he opened this Speakeasy with a powerful poem in response to a retaliation attack after the toppling of Colston's statue in Bristol. The gravestone of Scipio Africanus, a slave who died aged 18 in 1720, had become a Grade II listed monument: it was discovered hammered apart with a scrawled warning 'NOW LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO - PUT COLSTON'S STATUE  BACK' beside it. Bob didn't show this shocking image but he evoked it so strongly it seems relevant to share here.

The 15 open-mic poets also offered plenty to contemplate, plus a good splash of humour and, thanks to the internationality of zoom, transatlantic contributions too: Sunshine Lombre, calling in from 2pm Chicago, was simply fabulous.   And referencing American performers leads neatly to The Bijou Theatre in Tennessee which has a fascinating history dating from 1801 including vaudeville & cinema, and was narrowly saved for posterity as a theatre in 2005, so I was keen to see The Enid performed there on Saturday night. This was streamed on Youtube and actually turned out to be not a show but a British prog-rock band - a good one, though, with an enthusiastic international audience and exciting lighting effects. 

The Poetry Place is a monthly Sunday afternoon show on West Wilts Radio which is introduced and co-ordinated by Dawn Gorman who, when life allowed, ran the excellent 'Words & Ears' regular sessions in Bradford on Avon. This month's radio show features Dawn & Rosie Jackson discussing their new pamphlet, a strong open mic - including Frome's Moira Andrew on losing her sight (rather more good-humouredly than Milton) - and a splendid set from Martin Malone who lives in NE Scotland but is trapped in Hartlepool by current regulations. The programme will remain available, apparently forever, on the station's Play-Again page. 

And another in my 'occasional' series of random FB music recommendations: Postmodern Jukebox offers 'a vintage filter on today's hits' as performed with 'the style and craftsmanship of another era.' They promise a new video every Friday - try this one: Don't stop believing - a mini-movie with a glamorous old-movie feel.

 

As this week ushers out a long January with a flurry of snow,  flooded river banks and paths, and unsympathetic developments inching closer to the fringes and the heart of our town despite the best efforts of our hard-working representatives, Frome enjoyed a visitation of smiling snowmen, all 2 metres apart.  

Finally, a catching-on initiative created by Rare Species Theatre Company - Dress Up Fridays. Strut your stuff & post a pic on the facebook page, free fun for all.  Anything quirky to lift our lock-down spirits has to be worth a try!

work evasions and play enthusings

It's been quite a week for schedule suspension and magical moments...
I'm going to come back to this image of the new fountain in Frome promptly hijacked by the Frome-illuminati for human sacrifice, because the excitement disrupting my working week began last Friday when a busload from Frome, driven by daring Dave, headed to Bristol's Thunderbolt to hear fabulous Captain Cactus band and his amazing and gorgeous Screaming Harlots. Good support too - awesome steel guitar from Luke Philbrick and a great atmosphere at the venue.
Next night was David Goodman's party at the 23 Bath Street, which has become such a terrific venue since Lark and Toby have taken in over. Lovely to see so very many friends and the Raggedy Men punk set was a memorable highlight... I think their version of No More Heroes - with what seemed like a hundred of the partygoers joining in - is likely to be the defining moment of this year for me...

Nunney Acoustic Cafe on Sunday afternoon always has a great range of performers: this time featured band Sloe Jam and others including a wonderful gypsy duo, the superb Splat the Rat from Swindon and some talented younger musicians like Maia Fry and ever-impressive Archie Ttwheam. (Sorry Archie, I see you are Otto Wilde now but as that comes up on google as a steak grill manufacturer, I'm sticking to the name I first knew...)

Tuesday was the Frome Writers Collective social evening, this time with an engrossing talk from Lisa Kenrick who runs Mr Rook's Speak Easy story-telling sessions in Frome. Lisa demonstrated how to grip an audience with a vivid and visceral version of the tale Frome's medieval rake Edward Leversage, and then gave advice on constructing and telling such tales, and also how to find inspiration and where to go for further guidance.

And then with no Roots session this week I really really should have dedicated the rest of my time to the project.... about which you patient blog readers have heard so much & seen so little. Instead I was lured by the witchery & wizardry of Rare Species to follow them around Frome on a tour of secret signs of the Fecund Coming...

Starting at the spring below the church steps and prowling the area nearby, Virginia Faggus and Gerald Terd held forth on much historical detail we might not know - how the young blades used the well to spread fecundity, how merchants sailed back and forth along the leat, and the fact that the Three Swans name came from the Leda legend in a little-known love-triangle version... at the church door Virginia expounded an alternative-and-weirdly-true-sounding tale of Vicar Bennett's activities in Frome, invited here by the Fromenati to create a hotbed of hedonism. It was at this point Virginia began to show somewhat alarming symptoms of some kind of demonic invasion. Gerald ploughed on, taking us up Poldark's Passage ('Aiden would suckle on my unctuous paps' Virginia reminisced, a bit of a non sequitor as Gerald was talking about unsolved murders at the time.)
We headed across Bath Street as the running commentaries continued, with Gerald now on the look-out for tell-tale evidence of the secret society of the Fromenati. He found a tunnel opening they may have used to burrow to their base in Babblington (the smaller ones, anyway) and a SIX-SIX-6 sign and it wasn't till we reached Catherine Hill that things went totally bonkers.  'The epicentre' shouted Geraldine and strode on ahead waving a car away so effectively the driver actually reversed all the way down the hill as she advanced chanting 'Juicy and Divine'.  Meanwhile something had gone wrong with Gerald's divining rod. By the time he had staggered and we had straggled to the bottom of the hill, Geraldine had turned into a one-eyed demon. She lassoed Gerald and made me hold him (I tried to resist honest but she had manic power) and made us all...

I can recount no more of the shameful night I joined the illuminati-Fromenati and poor Gerald ended up on Boyle's Cross, only say: Eat your heart out Hot Fuzz, you may have exorcised Wells but the wild energy loosed by Bennett’s burrowings below the pagan spring will empower the Fromenati forever! It was indeed the Fecund Coming.