Whisperin’ and Hollerin’ caught up with DANIEL PATRICK QUINN and ONE MORE GRAIN as they were about to put in an appearance at the much lauded, but terribly organised Magpie’s Nest, one of North London’s numerous regular folk nights.
Playing alongside JIM MORAY, this gig should have been a corker. Sadly the organisers managed to spectacularly screw up the running order of the acts, and subsequently wreck the whole evening.
Without dwelling on their phenomenal naivety, it’s clear that something is amiss when two large acts have been booked, and the audience are subsequently forced to watch a self-indulgent, hideously mediocre “open-mic” session, where the organiser’s mates and some regulars pratted about on stage until it was nearly 10 pm.
Moray, bless him, belted out a few acapella folk numbers a-la Boyzone – seriously, this guy is up there with The Corrs in making your average hardcore folk tune about death and incest sound like an S-Club-7 ballad – and wowed the audience with his wholesome, clean-cut musical expertise.
Frustratingly, his performance was nothing like his electronica-laden recordings, and lacked the dark atmospheric weirdness that catapulted him to notoriety in the first place. Moray and pals looked more like a group of happy-go-lucky schoolboys frolicking about on a Summers day than the dark, gothic Folktronica popsters we were led to believe they were. Which was a shame, but then again perhaps he was catering to the audience, who clearly had a distain for anything electric. Like guitars. Or shavers. There was a maypole in the middle of the room, and the atmosphere was so ‘Purist’ you could taste the (ale-flavoured) disinfectant.
OMG were incredulous, and Quinn spent a lot of time revelling around like an evil imp. The contrast between OMG and Jim Moray would have been immense. It would have been the equivalent of putting Napalm Death on straight after Debbie Reynolds in “The Singing Nun”. Quinn agreed. “I know! We don’t have any family values!” he shouted gleefully, as we got told off for talking too much and not appreciating how “Moray is the best thing to happen to folk music”. Yes, someone actually said that.
So, Moray’s set dragged on, and on. And on. And Ariston… By the time OMG took to the stage, a lot of wine had been glugged, it was gone eleven, and everyone had to leave to get the last tube back. Either that or they left in disgust at the use of a drum kit and electric guitars. But for whatever reason, OMG ended up playing to about three die-hards and a very sheepish-looking promoter. And just to rub salt in the wound, the bar staff started to clear up.
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Despite the crowd disappearing en masse, OMG played a blinder. But it was short lived because Quinn, who at this point was a bit squiffy, and (quite understandably) extremely pissed off, incorporated some colourful language with reference to the organisers into his lyrics. The organisers became petulant and pulled the plug in an attempt to shut Quinn up. Not that he needed a microphone. He was well off on one, and we were subject to an almighty tantrum of biblical proportions. Quinn smote his rage on the deserving, and frankly it beat Moray’s healthy and nutritious performance hands down.
“You’re just some fucking rich Mummy’s boy who’s got too much money and decided to start a shit folk club!” yelled Quinn at the foppish organiser, who was trying desperately to remain polite, but who lost it in the end. After a relentless barrage of expletives, the hurling of insults, and the gnashing of teeth, most people edged slowly out of the room before blood was split.
It was a terrible shame we didn’t get to see OMG play their full set in the right circumstances, and frankly the organisers need their heads looking at. Those who run the Magpie’s Nest should stick to what they know (parochial open mic nights), or at least do a bit of research before they book quality acts and then sack them off to suit their own ends. A big heartfelt GRRRR to the lot of ‘em.
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