Disillusioned Discordian

There was an interesting article in the independent this weekend about how a Morris side has been reinventing the tradition in the pagan style. This interests me not only because I dance Border Morris, but also because I have an interest in what some call Paganism. Anyone who studies Paganism will be aware that it comes from the Latin Paganus, meaning country dweller, rustic, which is ironic when you consider this side admits to having quite an ‘urban’ style. In effect what they are really doing is dancing in a neo-pagan style. Wiccan is perhaps the most prominent of neo-pagan traditions, it’s really become more of a religion or fashion statement. Its history dates back only the C20th and the likes of Gerald Gardner. The claim is that it’s a recreation of an unbroken pagan tradition dating back to the likes of the Celtic Druids. Unfortunately there is scant evidence of this claim of a lost goddess based spiritualism. Like the legend of Arthur it’s more romance than realty.

Morris dancing is in a similar situation. Most of the modern dancers were collected by a few Victorian collects such as Cecil Sharp, who painted their own particular brand of the tradition. Border Morris’ tradition is even more flakey, it largely being an invention of the 1970s folk revival. What we are able to claim is that across rural Britain there have always been different folk dances of different regional styles and traditions. There are other border sides such as the Widders, Wharfedale Wazygoose and Stone the Crows which are a lot less overtly Neo- Pagan, although they could be described as Paganus. From Cotwold to Northwest from Border to Rapper. The goth sides are nothing new with the Witchmen having danced in this style since the 80s. All stories grow and change as do all traditions and languages.

Modern Britain is a mixing pot of culture and I think it’s great that people are going out there and creating their own new styles. The danger is that you may end up with something along the lines of nu-rave, or as the Might Boosh say “Taking elements of the past, with elements of the future, to make something not quite as good as either”. Of course the excellent imagines village project shows that a new mix can produce fantastic results, Not having seen this team dance I couldn’t comment, the Witchmen however are excellent dancers!

Sadly my boxing day session of Morris dancing resulted in a bout of MRSI (Morris Related Sticking Injury). In order to maximize the sympathy I get from such an unfortunate event I’m posting a picture of my injuries. 

Well I’m about to head off to the Lake District for a weekends Morris dancing and Ale drinking. Some readers who know of my love of countryside may be surprised to read that this will be my first visit to the Lakes. I’m not sure how much walking I will be doing on this particular trip however as it seems there is quite a full dancing agenda.

I saw the Witchmen for the first time in the aforementioned folk weekend. I thought these chaps were great with a strong rhythmic section that brought images of tribalism to mind. I liked the skull on one of their hats as well, and it encouraged me to continue the search for an appropriate crow’s skull to fit on my own head. I’ve decided I shall hang the dead crow on a yew tree for thirteen days to imbue it with the sprit of Odin before burying it on Mid-Winters Solstice. It shall then rise on Mid Summers Eve and its spirit shall become trapped in my hat only to scream out through my dancing. This shall undoubtedly scare small children or something like that. Alternately this does sound like quite an involved process and my inherent idleness may protect me from further damnation for occult meddling. One thing the Witchmen certainly do is re-ignite the debate in sides over whether there are any pagan roots for Morris dancing. I think you can guess my position.

A cold and tired reality has returned to my life following the folk festival. Our motley crew included the pillar of civil society formerly known as Geeklawyer and recent tankard convert Harry. Tired from being guided at high speeds by multiple GPS systems both Geeklawyer and Harry set about an admirable drinking session on the Friday night. On the Saturday something strange happened, perhaps it was the heady exposure to proper Yorkshire culture in the form of pea and pies and quality ales…. Or perhaps it was kismet…..

They both discovered an aesthetic appreciation of Morris dancing (the Rivington Ladies a particular favorite of Geeklawer) could be merged with a Geeky love of various film & picture capturing device. Yes never before has discussions around traditional folk dances been synthesized with debates on the variable factors that can influence the battery life of one’s gadgets. Richard also deserves a mention at this stage, for overcoming his phobia of Morris dancers in a spectacular fashion which involved joining in with side. Surely this chap must be a natural dancer as well as an accomplished guitarist.

Saturday night accumulated in the Ceilidh in which Harry proved himself to be an old-hand. It was heartening to see Harry take Geeklawyer under his wing and introduce him to the moves. With due credit GL’s amusing initial steps into this previously alien world soon evolved into a series of graceful skips and twirls.

Shaking off our hangovers and rinsing out our tankards Sunday started with an athletic climb on some local rocks. Harry would have been happy to sit and watch (as might I) but Richard took the lead. Not wanting our brave masculinity to be usurped the rest of us soon followed up the West slope of the face. My good wife ( in her fabulous new boots) and Leucha looked on with fearful eyes as the men folk faced death in the eye. Richard and I went for a more unusual descent that resulted in grazed body parts and a drop that risked sprained ankles. Still our catlike agility saved the day despite the slightly dizzy feeling caused by the previous nights drinking. The New Rope String Band provided the entertainment for the Sunday evening, and jolly fine entertainment it was too. On Monday I slept, and occasionally felt sorry for those who were driving instead of sleeping. Having your friends scattered across the country isn’t always the most convenient of arrangements.

All in all it was a Jolly Fine weekend.

Well last weekend saw my first attendance of the Durham Folk Party. The weather was fine and the dancers were out in force. The Morris dancing took place in the Market square on the Saturday, and much of the side were nursing their heads from the night before. I emerged from my tent to discover I was already getting a name for myself as a drinker in the side. So needless to say I wasn’t excluded from the mutual hangover. Nevertheless after a few swigs from the hip flask I was ready to dance.

The highlight of the dancing was an accumulation of aggressive sticking in a dance called Twiglet which lead to the breaking of my first stick. Although I was slightly disappointed that I didn’t manage to hit any members of the audience as segments of wood flew into the on looking crowd.  The day was rounded off by a continuation of ale drinking, a trip around Waitrose in full kit and a rather successful BBQ. Back on the campsite the merriment continued as spontaneous singing and dancing broke out in the bar. All in all a very successful foray into the world of Morris. I have decided however that my hat is not nearly gothic enough and I’m currently hunting out a crow’s skull to sit upon my top hat. If any reader happens to chance upon one of these then can you please get in touch.

Thanks to Bornihove (and his spare time) for this lovely pictorial representation of the oppression of Moon23 by the dastardly G8 Storm Troopers.

You get a place in the art gallery.

This is the place where Morris dancers are kept when they are not dancing….

my Naive youth I had thought that Morris was all napkin waiving and bells. That was before I went to the Dartmoor folk festival and came across the Grimspound Morris. These chaps were dressed in black, with blacked up faces. They had dead animals on their hats and the napkins were replaced with sticks. I thought to myself how much more appealing these was to my previous experiences of the dancers.

You will be pleased to know that fate has landed me the opportunity of living close to where one side (that is the proper terminology of a group of Morris dancers) practices and regularly dances.  My cat like agility has paid off and I have mastered (or at least managed to perform) at least one dance. My date with the public awaits and not only shall I be out dancing at Dawn next mayday but I will also be kitted out and may pole dancing in the evening.

I shall Endeavour to let you know how it goes.“>