For all the statisticians out there this was Folk Club Bonn meeting #143. Divide that by 12 for the number of years. Adjust by having one month off each year and additional Folk Club Lite evenings during Covid and… or, just look at the Folk Club website which says it started in 2010. I would be ashamed to say that after all the many of those meetings I’ve attended, I never had so much trouble understanding the lyrics to songs that were in German. But I take heart from the fact that this was no ordinary German and this was no ‘ordinary’ Folk Club night. The theme was Dialects and Accents.

What better way to get things off on such an evening than with one of the most famous of all texts written in dialect – the ‘Wee Timourous Beastee’ referred to by Scotland’s most famous son Robbie Burns. Only slightly more penetrable was John’s own short poem written together with an unnamed friend in the ’70’s, ‘The Yorkshire Lament’. Well, I actually understood most of that – Yorkshire being not so far from my native Hampshire.

Having lived here for over twenty years, I should have had no trouble with a Bonn accent. So why does Gerd Müller leave me totally befuddled and bewildered every time he steps out to tell us tales in Bönnsch? and, more to the point, does the audience really understand it? or do they wait for one person to laugh and then spontaneously join in as if they also share the joke? My biggest question of all with regards to Gerd is: How does he remember so much text with never a recourse to paper prompt and never a moment’s hesitation? I guess he just relies on the fact that ‘Et hätt noch emmer joot jejange’.

Anke & Jörg Bohnensack had already prepared me for hearing their first number as we all got a lift in Mario’s car (thanks Mario and less thanks to the tram and bus drivers who were on strike!). ”We will be singing about pigs noses and pigs trotters” they announced with relish as we traveled down Hohenzollernstrasse. I was interested to hear what you could sing about with such a theme. By the end of it, the song being in Plattdeutsch, I was sadly none the wiser on that score. The duo also did a song about ‘Rolling Home’ that had everyone joining in on the chorus but I was too confused (befuddled?) after so much dialect to know if the whole song was in English or if my brain had finally started to go on an ‘auto-dialect translation’ mode. The duo were, as ever, smiling happily throughout so I assume the rolling home was an enjoyable journey.

Peter Bachmannfinally and completely sunk my auto dialect translation mode for certain until I could only understand the line ‘So viel Zick’ and did I really hear a dialect version of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’? or was my auto-translator now in reverse mode? I was relieved to hear Rainer Gützendorf revert back to plain old German again and the classic Hannes Wader number ‘Heute Hier, Morgen Dort’. Hans Ihnen’s quiet confidence as he played further helped me adjust my brainwaves although I can no longer remember what dialect he sang in.

Thank goodness for John Hay, who not only brought the language challenge to a (temporary) end with his own love song ‘Ich sag’s mit Bach’ (to Pachelbel’s – ‘Canon in D’) but dispensed with lyrics altogether for the famous ‘Air on a G String’.

Thankfully, Shay McVeigh was tonight’s special guest. A man with a nose for songs with great lyrics that only challenged when he sang those lyrics a little too quietly. He really can hypnotize when there’s a microphone present as I remember from a Folk Night Unter Der Zeder not so long ago. It does pay to listen carefully to those lyrics though, and amongst my favourites from his first set was a typical McVeigh selection: An excellent song with excellent lyrics from someone I’ve never heard of. In this case the Irish singer Mike Flannery with ‘Boston‘. The same also for Blue Rodeo’s ‘Cinema Song’ and ‘Wish it were True’ from Sons of Anarchy. 

Part two was kicked off by John Harrison aided by Christoph Thiebes with his trusty array of harmonicas. The opener, ‘Stack O’Lee’ is interesting not least because it’s about a murderer, and John’s second song, ‘Keep your hands off her’ was one of the songs made famous by Huddie Ledbetter aka ‘Leadbelly’, a man convicted of murder who managed to shorten his term in jail because of his musical abilities. Amazingly, his music gave him a ‘Get out of Jail’ card on two occasions.

I have to admit that I was rather relieved that there was nothing in there to do with dialects. Helge Kirscht however put us back on the linguistic track. First, with his own German text added to Phil Collins’ ‘Another Day in Paradise’ and later with Bill Ramsey’s ‘Ohne Krimi Geht Die Mimi Nie Ins Bett’ which everyone in the audience except myself seemed to know by heart. It’s a disconcertingly strange feeling, like being the only one who doesn’t get a joke.

I thought that I could rely on good old Mario to help me relax. He being a master of putting audiences at ease. Except that impenetrable dialect challenge was back with a vengeance. If I tell you he sang ‘Hey mien Deern’, ‘Trina kumm mal voor de Döör’ and ‘De Hamborger Veermaster’ that must suffice. The fact that so many sang happily along to the latter’s chorus only compounds my ignorance I’m afraid. “What happens when an audience recognizes a song?” asked Mario. They sing along. Elena even gave the chorus an extra impetus with her high ranging participation “On the banks of Sacramento!” Going where no other in the hall could or would go key-wise.

Time for Shay to round off the evening with plain English renditions of more excellent but lesser-known songs, as well as a couple by two of the best folk-styled songwriters of the 20th Century – Bob Dylan’s ‘Girl from the North Country’ and the wonderful John Prine’s ‘Sam Stone’. Extra thanks for the latter Shay as I had requested it (and thanks too for your praise of myself and Sabine Büttner’s contributions as photographers at Folk Club!)

Okay, the evening done and dusted, before people headed to their cars and bicycles there was only time for a round of ‘Jock Stuart’ and thanks to Detlef’s lyric sheets, sung in a dialect known to me. Time to leave whilst I’m ahead…