Ralph's mates from Pentewan have all turned up in a mini bus to hear him sing and play, and he walks onto the stage looking comfortable; he's amongst friends. He's a big man; very charismatic, with a warm smile and a beguiling aura of powerful gentleness. He's relaxed, we're relaxed, and he sits with his guitar, chatting easily between songs, and playing with an easy familiarity with us, and with his material.
His guitar playing is intricate and playful; going from ragtime to blues to folk, and his voice is deep and rich. He comments that he's put together quite a serious programme for the two hours he's on stage; it's true that the lyrics are thoughtful and the subjects serious, but there is light material too; a tune about Laurel and Hardy, and one or two covers of old blues numbers. When he sings Streets of London there are happy sighs and the audience sing along very softly; as softly as a whisper. It feels as intimate as if we were just a few people singing contentedly together late at night in the dark as a party winds down, maybe the way we did as teenagers; children of the 60s and 70s.
The whole effect is very mellow; we're bathed in warmth and a deep peacefulness, which is meditative and pleasantly soporific. Live music often seems to have this tranquilizing effect, and Ralph walks quietly off the stage, sending the audience out into the night all smiling and looking profoundly calm. Sigh.
His guitar playing is intricate and playful; going from ragtime to blues to folk, and his voice is deep and rich. He comments that he's put together quite a serious programme for the two hours he's on stage; it's true that the lyrics are thoughtful and the subjects serious, but there is light material too; a tune about Laurel and Hardy, and one or two covers of old blues numbers. When he sings Streets of London there are happy sighs and the audience sing along very softly; as softly as a whisper. It feels as intimate as if we were just a few people singing contentedly together late at night in the dark as a party winds down, maybe the way we did as teenagers; children of the 60s and 70s.
The whole effect is very mellow; we're bathed in warmth and a deep peacefulness, which is meditative and pleasantly soporific. Live music often seems to have this tranquilizing effect, and Ralph walks quietly off the stage, sending the audience out into the night all smiling and looking profoundly calm. Sigh.
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