It was much warmer this morning and I felt much more comfortable, although I’d had something of a turbulent night. I had lots to do this morning and that kept me pretty much occupied for quite a while and then it was off to find an internet connection. Once again, Tim Horton’s came up trumps and I reckon that the free wifi service that they offer will pay for itself in spades with the amount of custom it pulls in.

However, while I was in there, the weather changed. You may remember me telling you that they had turned the tent around at the Barracks Square and it’s now on the grass rather than on the hard-standing. I mentioned that if it ever started to rain everyone would be up to their knees in mud by the end of the evening.

And so it comes as no surprise to notice that it’s now raining. And as the afternoon wore on, the rain came down heavier and heavier. After doing a few more things that needed to be done, and going for something to eat, I had an hour or two to spare before the evening’s entertainment began. So I took refuge in the public library and read a book on Canadian Railways.

So here in the driving rain, although it’s quietened down a little from how it was half an hour ago, we have Lee Fields and the Expressions on the stage.

Again, there are far too many musicians on stage for my liking with his brass and his horns, and whether or not you would call him good would depend upon your own point of view, he has bags of presence and certainly knew how to get to a crowd, there’s no doubt about that. He’s a showman if ever there was one.

He had his first hit record in 1969 which is quite surprising seeing as how I haven’t ever heard of him. Still, soul music isn’t my scene at all.

I wasn’t impressed with his dress sense. I thought that the silver lurex suit was a little too 70s for my liking.

But I do wonder what must be going through the minds of the organisers when they have soul singers at a jazz and blues festival.

Pogo Ray on the drums, Scott Sutherland on the bass and of course, Samantha Fish on guitar and vocals. She played a superb set, and I will tell you now that I thoroughly enjoyed her concert.

I only heard three songs, what with other things that needed to be done, but I’ll make a special effort to catch her act later on tonight at the Hoodoo House so that I can hear some more.

And so I did. I caught up with her later, just in time to catch her doing the most astonishing version of Black Sabbath’s War Pigs that I have ever heard, and I told her so after the show. She has also put me in touch with her record company so that I can obtain a copy of one of her live performances for Radio Anglais.

Hers was the best act so far and although she hasn’t had much competition up to date, nevertheless she’s now way out in front by my reckoning, and by a country mile too.

Meanwhile at the Hoodoo House there can’t have been more than 70 people watching Shirley Jackson and her Good Rocking Daddys. Mind you, I can’t say that I’m surprised. I didn’t hang around very long and for three good reasons too –
1) I had other fish to fry (including Samanthat Fish of course)
2) Jazz isn’t my scene at all
3), technically, Shirley Jackson and her Good Rocking Daddys were, well, not quite at the races in my opinion and the guitarist was, well, a little way behind the others.
I’ve seen worse than these, to be sure, but I’ve also seen a whole lot better too.

Next group on stage were supposed to be the Belles, but they were announced as Always, or something like that … "it’s ALVVAYS" – ed … or my hearing is going, one or the other.

It was enjoyable new-romantic pop but technically they have been bettered by quite a few other bands. I spent most of my time watching the bassist with his Paul McCartney Hofner bass guitar, and playing all of the bass lines. And I was playing them, well, totally differently.

What didn’t help the group was that the sound mix was so awful, although it probably sounded much better at the back than it did at the front where we were, hemmed into the tiniest protographers’ pit I have ever been in.

This is someone called Doctor John and I had a little bet with myself that with a name like that it would be odds-on that he would produce a harmonica at some point during the proceedings.

So we did have Doctor John (without a harmonica for at least the first three numbers that I saw) and I had to say that the stage was the wrong way round – he had his back facing towards the organ and drums (but facing across to the guitarists and female backup singer who was doubling up on trombone).

Again, an enjoyable act that was technically very good, but not my scene at all.

David Clayton Thomas’ act looked quite ominous – there’s a whole pile of trumpets and horns and so on being wheeled out on stage. That makes my skin creep a little.

So He is someone quite well-known in certain circles (but not mine) and even brings with him his musical director – the guy in the green shirt playing trumpet on the left of the front row. I mean – who has a musical director in a show like this?

Anyway, he’s enjoying it and so are his musicians. They are having a whale of a time up there and I’m sure that some of what he is saying on stage contains some kind of in-jokes amongst them all, so good luck to them – and good luck to the crowd toon because they were having fun. But it wasn’t my cup of tea.

And for all of their rehearsals and musical directors and so on, I did detect a few, well, shall we just say “impromptu notes” and “uncommon timing” floating around here and there. It didn’t seem to hang together like it should – a bit bitty.

These are the Arkells and they are another 24th Street Wailers, aren’t they? I was exhausted just watching them for three numbers – dunno how the rest of the crowd got on for an hour or so, and as for playing it, well, I did have my suspicions about one or two of them. The second guitarist, for example, looked quite … errr … animated.

It was like the punk music of the late 70s which was quite surprising as the bassist was doing a very good impression of Glen Mattacks, bassist with the Sex Pistols, who just stood there and played while the others got up to whatever it was that they were getting up to. But unlike the punk bands of the 70s, these could actually play to a certain degree.

In contrast to the 48th Street Wailers though, the anarchy on the stage was totally uncoordinated and we had musicians crashing into each other every now and again as they jigged around the stage. At least the Wailers had some kind of coordinated stage act.

The Arkells had the crowd, mostly of teenage girls, quite animated too and the audience participation was thoroughly excellent and the crowd loved the performance. And it was the largest house of the night by far in what has been a pretty poorly-attended festival so far, so I’m clearly in a minority of One.

I’m probably far too old for this. I went to catch the end of Samantha Fish’s stage act at the Hoodoo House before going home to bed.