Tom Kitching – Seasons of Change
Out Now (Book published via Scratching Shed)
In the early 1930s, JB Priestley took himself on a tour, eager to see what England was, and who the English were. Jump forward nearly 90 years, and Tom Kitching decided to do a very similar thing, to go in search of England, the English and what makes them tick. However, unlike his predecessor, Tom was not satisfactorily self-funded and to pay his way he went busking.
For Tom, a fiddle player, busking was not something new. He had been doing it for some time, from his days as a student playing the streets to raise a train fare. This project – a term he uses but at the same time steers away from – was to see what life was really like in various parts of England with the very clear ambition of writing a book about it. The result is Seasons of Change, a book and an album, supported by Arts Council England.
Armed with a fiddle, a bag of clothes and a new set of boots from his parents, Tom set off in his aged Volvo. The book covers a period of over a year of journeys to different corners of the country. Though not continually travelling – there were periods of returning home, playing gigs and festivals – the momentum is kept up all the way through. In fact, the times don’t matter except to give a loose skeleton to the structure, and although the words are taken from the blog he wrote along the way, some visits have been re-presented in a different order for the sake of the narrative of the book.
At this point, I should say that if you are expecting an insight into the details and experiences of playing the fiddle in various towns around England, a sort of guide to busking, then this might not be the book you are looking for. What you do get is a book that is much more. Though Tom does often refer to the art and science of busking – positions that are best for earning, best for the acoustic, best for keeping out of the wind and the rain – but really it is a trope for exploring the country as seen on the streets of our towns and cities.
His writing style is natural, coherent and full of very gentle humour, as when recounting brief encounters with fellow buskers:
(in Darlington) a white-haired man of indeterminate age, wearing Elton John glasses and a bright white t-shirt several sizes too big for him that read Stevie D and I Love Music where the love was symbolised by a heart. Below these lines was a stave made out of colourful rainbows and unicorns….I chose to believe that id been visited by a member of the fairy folk…
His light touch becomes even more important when recalling meeting the public who pay, the public who avoid, and those members of the public that engage in conversation, meaningful or otherwise. There is the man in Brighton who dropped a coin in the violin case, and when Tom thanked him replied: “Well you’re terrible but it’s probably not your fault”. The country is full of critics, of course, and the more vocal they are, it appears the more they usually dislike the performance. But then these are English folk melodies, not sixties pop to a backing track, or a one-song-guitar player so it must have hurt at times. Tom, by and large, takes it all as it comes, and like all good sons of Cheshire (and I’m counting me in this), he was always happy to say thank you whilst at times internally shouting something else.
However, the busking is the front. What Tom is actually doing is seeing what life is like for people in the towns and cities and exploring why some places are down at heel and descending further and what other places are doing to make themselves better. The homeless attract particular attention, making it clear that they do not ask to be in that position, that through some mistake this is how they are and that they need help and compassion to get out of this situation.
A reasonably regular occurrence is the passers-by who might drop a coin in on the understanding that at least he (Tom) was doing something, ‘not like that homeless man down there. He just sits there.’ Robert, the particular man this commentator referred to, as Tom found out later, was waiting for a place in a shelter, a step on the ladder back to some form of normality. But, he explained, just as you think you’re about to get that leg up, the place goes to a mother with children. Robert was not bitter about this. Many of the homeless that fleetingly appear in the book have similar stories and similar views on the way of things.
Tom’s pictures of human deprivation are also extended to whole communities and how they struggle to move up their municipal ladder, particularly where the primary employer, invariably heavy industry, mining or fishing, has shut down and the whole raison d’ être for the community in the first place has gone, often along with all the service industries. What do people do? How can they progress? What does the future hold for them and for their children? This is the abiding picture from the book, a view of a country that has pockets, large pockets, of social and financial deprivation, which are thrown into high contrast when Tom plays in the Cotswolds (almost zero unemployment) or Welwyn Garden City. Reading the book now, amid the COVID-19 pandemic, I do wonder what blows are being rained down on West Cumbria, on Cornwall and on the communities of the ex-coalfields of County Durham, where the future, or not, of a community depends upon whether they have been designated category A, B, C or D.
This is a book about the stories that go to make folk songs. The struggles, the fights for rights and freedoms, rights and freedoms that many of us have thanks to a system that also keeps those that do not have in their place – and often out of sight. There is optimism. Young people are making a go of independent businesses, albeit barbers, baristas and burgers, but people have to eat, drink and get a haircut, so good luck to them. And I think that this is the point of the book, we see England through Tom Kitching’s eyes, and we share in his education, his ability to look at a situation, his want to find out why, and what is being done to alleviate this state of affairs. Like all of us, he makes mistakes, errors of judgment but he willingly revisits those situations and comes out with a better understanding and as a better person. Perhaps we don’t all need to take up busking, but I bet we all like to sit a watch the world around us. But what do we see? Perhaps we should all look again.
…….
The album that complements the book is not the soundtrack to his journey. In some ways, it is a verification to those of us that have not heard Tom play on the streets of England. We do not doubt the standard of his playing, but it is good to listen to what he does – folk tunes. Seasons of Change is a collection of tunes that by his own words have formed an album that is self-indulgent. Self-indulgent? Maybe but it also demonstrates what Tom can do after a year and half of intense practice round the country.
There are many tunes that are well-known, such as Staines Morris, Greensleeves Morris, Bean Setting, but beware as you might catch yourself knowing where the tune is going and then find you’ve gone off one way, and the music another. A couple written by Tom have more than a passing connection to the book. In Store Bakery has to be homage to the basic needs of those working out of doors. After all, we learn that Tom Kitching is definitely a pie and sandwich sort of chap. The final tune, Infinite Espresso, is a direct reference to his experience in the dockside cafe in Harwich, an event that which may have taken lesser mortals days to recover from.
Having both the album and the book do make for a great package. They can be independent, but the book has to be read – and is a very relaxing read – and the music has to be listened to. Your choice, but I heartily recommend both – a book that shows whatever the situation, this England is so full of life, accompanied by an album of music that is as equally full.
Order both the CD and Book direct from Tom’s website here: http://www.tomkitching.co.uk/shop/