Bryony Griffith & Alice Jones
On 17th September 2025, Bryony Griffith and Alice Jones treated us to a most enjoyable evening of fine vocal harmonies and varied instrumentation. Alice switched back and forth between tenor guitar (declared a ‘Tena guitar’ at one point) and harmonium, while Bryony’s fiddle-playing mixed bowing with plenty of effective plucking. The pair also performed a fair few songs a cappella.
The theme throughout was Yorkshire, Yorkshire, Yorkshire, with material from the East, West, and North Ridings, and we were assiduously apprised of the names of the song-collectors to whom we owed each offering. Honourable mentions went to Mary and Nigel Huddleston, Frank Hinchliffe, and Margaret Moorson. ‘The second best collector’ was deemed to be Anne Gilchrist of L*ncashire (the gasps were almost audible). But let there be no doubt: of all collectors, Frank Kidson of Leeds was the best! Among his source-singers was his own mother, whence this evening’s version of ‘The Grey Mare’ as absorbed in Otley in the 1820s.
Yorkshire directness was evident in the immediate confession of fratricide in ‘What Is That Blood On Thy Shirt Sleeve?’ (a.k.a. ‘Edward’), Yorkshire understatement in the ‘watery misfortune’ of ‘Strawberry Tower’ (a.k.a. ‘The Drowned Sailor’), and Yorkshire parsimony in the omission of a chorus in ‘Young Banker’ (a.k.a. one of the greatest English chorus songs). Not that we were short of other chances to sing along – ‘The Cropper lads for me!’ delighted one’s inner Luddite, ‘Early Pearly’ alias ‘Hayley Paley’ gave us a pleasing splash of sentimentality, and ‘Take her an onion!’ seemed a most appropriate mondegreen to shout in the tale of the wife who performs every task badly (‘Willy Went To Westerdale’).
Both Alice and Bryony gave us plenty of background information and historical context for their song choices, useful in the main though your reviewer is still reeling from the claim that Huddersfield ‘didn’t really exist until the Industrial Revolution’. Did not Godwine have six carucates of land taxable where eight ploughs were possible? How short folk memory can be. Wonderful harmonies made amends.
A particular highlight of the evening was the impressive display of Alice’s hamboning skills on ‘My Johnny Was A Shoemaker’, incorporating stamps, pops, thumb-clicks, chest-beats, and much slapping of the Slapping-Pants™. Many of us have since incorporated these devices into our own performances on weekly singers’ nights, albeit without the spangly attire.
We were all relieved to learn that Alice does not have syphilis.
Paul Cullen
