The second evening of Corin Hayes’ Buzz, Buzz, Buzz season this year featured near folk legend, Wizz Jones. Wizz has been around for more than fifty years and was part of the Les Cousins, Bunjies and Scots Hoose circuit along with Bert Jansch, John Renbourne, Al Stewart and all the rest. I was also around at the time and remain friends with Al but I never knew Wizz apart from, some years later, photographing him when he was part of the Famous Jug Band, for their record company.

Although Wizz gave, at the time, the impression of being a folky with a capital F, what with his large beard, straggly locks and heavy rimmed glasses, he skipped effortlessly between the traditional and modern sides of the genre. He busked on the streets of Paris, as one did, and frequently worked with other musicians – notably Pete Stanley and the aforementioned Famous Jug Band.

Though never what could be described as a true singer/songwriter he was/is an influential interpreter of other people’s material as the gig last night proved – his set included several songs by his old friend Alan Tunbridge and Blues Run the Game by Cousins legend Jackson C Frank. Wizz’s style of singing, and especially guitar playing, is very reminiscent of Bert Jansch. His delivery is very laid back and quiet and his guitar playing is quite rough – as was Bert’s. This is not a criticism because the style has a lot more impact and balls than the cleaner, virtuoso finger-work of, say, John Renbourne.

However, the casual approach to performance has its drawbacks, as was demonstrated last night. I know it’s an intimate atmosphere and we’re all friends together, but this is an audience which has paid good money to be entertained and watching the interminable tuning of a guitar before each song is not very entertaining and soon becomes very irritating. In fact, let’s call a spade a spade, it’s unprofessional and somebody who has been performing as long as Wizz should be aware of that. He also fluffed some guitar playing and had to abandon one song after having forgotten the words. Now, the nearly full-house was tolerant and took it in good part, but even so . . .

FAMOUS JUG BAND, 1969 – Pete Berryman far left, Wizz Jones 2nd from r. Photo by Michael Hasted

Wizz was joined on stage for the second half of the show by another folky from the good old days, Pete Berryman, who I’d also photographed a couple of times when he was in the Famous Jug Band. Pete did a short solo spot on guitar and then joined Wizz for a couple of songs.

I spent an awful lot of time around Soho in my youth and nowhere more than the legendary Les Cousins, so last night for me was a bit of a trip down memory lane.   Michael Hasted    22nd April 2016

The third gig in this year’s season was a performer who, to my shame, I had never heard or indeed heard of. As Micah P Hinson shuffled on to the stage aided by a walking stick, during the interval to set up his stuff, I knew we were in for something special.

Wearing a battered black cap, a feather dangling from his ear and with a bulging duffle bag slung across his chest he proceeded to get ready. After struggling to untangle the knot of cables and attach them to his row of effects pedals he produced from a large carrier bag two pints of milk which he placed beside his guitar stand.  His guitar was adorned with crude home-made stickers. One said This Machine Kills Fascists and the other, stuck right across the guitars sound hole stated Kill The Head, The Body Dies.

Mr Hinson’s credentials are impressive. Born in Memphis in 1981 he took up music at an early age, encouraged by his family, to a soundtrack of Neil Diamond and John Denver. Those two performers, despite their talent, were very much middle of the road. Micah P Hinson isn’t even on the road, not even on the pavement; he is over the hills and far away. To call him eccentric would not do him justice, to call him unique would. His songs range in subject matter from the ridiculous to the sublime, and the titles of his albums give you a hint as to where he is coming from – The Baby and the Satellite, All Dressed Up and Smelling of Strangers, Micah P Hinson and the Nothing – and it ain’t nowhere near here.

Last night he held the audience spellbound as he opened a window to his own little world and let us take a look inside. His gear was strewn around the stage, he took swigs from his milk and pondered at length from his set list which song he should sing next and then, at the end, when he started to pack up, discovered he had broken his guitar.

Hinson was supported by local singer/songwriter Edd Donovan who in turn was aided by local sax player Chris Cundy on bass clarinet. Edd’s songs are gentle, introvert little numbers which he delivers in a gentle, introvert manor.  Michael Hasted    23rd April 2016