Anthony John Clarke

‘And now, for something completely different’ quoth grand fromage TK Pythonically to introduce tonight’s show, and yes… indeed we have sharp contrast to Crail Folk Club’s last two rocket-fuelled tradfest extravaganzas. This time, a man with a guitar and a bag o’ wit, accompanied by his other ‘arf; ‘er indoors, etc. on keys.

And that man is very cheeky indeed. A man who knows how to work an audience; a man who knows how to talk to the crowd, how to tease, how to get folk on board and keep them enjoying the scenery all the way to the terminus. Ding, ding.

The result of years of honing, playing, MCing for Fairport Convention, Cropredy et al shows. And Anthony, 68 years old, is well qualified to have some things to say about life… and he does… with a great sense of humour. What a joy, who wants to hear a gloom-fest, we want to be lifted, warmed, we want to laugh and love, we want to share and we want to shed the occasional tear at the poignant. Well… Anthony’s yer man.

‘Westminster Bridge‘ is touching and wistful and ends with a bit of – and I quote from Google - a Petrarchan sonnet by William Wordsworth. Classy.

‘Banksy’ is a tale where a bully meets his fate at the hands of a bigger bully. The song has a light touch but Anthony’s introduction, light as it is, doesn’t veil the seriousness of the subject of bullying - we all nod in recognition.

‘Tuesday Night Is Always Karaoke’ hilariously paints a seaside town in the rain, Tuesday night, tourists, priests, nuns, bevy, police and general mayhem.

‘I’m My Own Grandpa’, a novelty song written by Dwight Latham and Moe Jaffe in 1947 is a tour de force of memory, physical stamina and linguistic navigation. It’s the last song of the first set then Anthony’s off, surely for a reviving whiff from the nearest oxygen tank.

To big cheers, Julia takes the spotlight on piano as one song morphs into the Scott Joplin’s ragtime ‘The Entertainer’ as Anthony prowls about the stage pretending to be bored.

And amidst the malarkey we suddenly find ‘The Broken Years’, a song for the years lost to The Troubles in Northern Ireland … ‘together we can mend the broken years’. Perfect!

As encore we’re treated to ‘Walking on Sunday’, such a beautiful song of love… and - offering sincere gratitude - Anthony reminds us that the song has been covered by Glenfarg’s very own Forgaitherin. Hamish, Hugh and Lesley, 75% of that fine band were in attendance tonight, surely warmed by the rosy glow of the room’s appreciation.

So… with terminus looming… this was an evening of true humanity. Warmth, humour, gags, rib tickling, leg pulling, nostalgia, singalongs, wistfulness and poignancy. All you could hope for. Oh, and the rain even stopped for the walk home!

Words by Callum MacLeod photos by Peter Salkeld