It started years ago in Wellington. Which is sort of significant in the light of the current scene. In the early eighties, in what is now the home of the Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra, I picked up a uke. We had a theatre group called "Bricks". Bricks mostly performed kids' theatre in schools and summer festivals but we also developed a couple of adult shows. We called it "cabaret - with a "k"" and one of the shows featured (as well as a short play by The Spines', Jon McCleary) two songs by "The Lunchtime Intellectuals". One of the LT's two songs was Shirley Bassey's "I who have Nothing". For the life of me I can not recall the other song and after a recent drunken, nostalgic night with Jon I am none the wiser. Anyway, I played uke. I never played much again and the instrument I had disappeared in one of my moves.
Fast forward to Christchurch a couple of years ago. Uke fever had hit and all the cool parties had a resident uke player. My flatmate, Dan Randow, was just starting to get a few songs down. I picked up his ukulele and I was hooked again.
You could be forgiven for being a bit cynical if you google ukes and read the endless blogs and comments about how much fun it is to be in a ukulele group. There's this daft, childlike enthusiasm that people have about this funny little, four stringed instrument. But the ukulele really is like that. I guess you have to have the gene but pick it up, strum a couple of chords, listen to someone who can actually play and the ukulele really does get under your skin. It's an instrument that makes you smile. It seems to generate big groups of amateurs who play for fun. It's a little bit ridiculous, a bit comical. Like any instrument in the hands of a great player the uke can be magical but it's also relatively easy to master enough chords to have some fun and satisfaction.
Back in Nelson - the uke bug embedded in my epidermis - I got a cash bonus one day in my sales job, walked into a shop and spent $90.00 on my very own Makala pineapple ukulele. I brought it home and asked Spike what song she wanted to hear. My Girl was her choice so that was the first song I learned.
I've never been too shy about singing so my challenge is to try and make the instrument sound good enough to match a reasonable voice. And a challenge it is. I've got a three chord grasp of the guitar but the trick with all the strummed instruments is in the right hand. Mastering the chords on the four stringed uke isn't that hard but so much of what we hear when we listen to guitar and ukulele is in the rhythm - and that's the other hand. I spend way too much time practicing and I'm sure I drive Spike crazy but I want to do more that chinkachink on every song. But then again, on the uke, chinkachink still makes you smile.
Recently I inveigled my friend Terry to try the uke. Terry and I have known each other for a few years. Most of our relationship has been watching rugby at our local and talking rubbish about music and politics. So, I already knew we had a similar taste in music and I liked spending time with him so I invited him around, handed him a uke and suggested we knock out a couple of songs.
Terry is a very good guitar player. No, I mean very good. He can sit down with almost any stringed instrument and just wow you. I've watched a pub full of drunken orchard workers stand transfixed as Terry essentially mucked around in the corner on the pub guitar. I was a bit nervous about inviting him out to play but of course like most musicians, he's incredibly generous and just enjoys making music. We shared songs, he showed me the ropes and we started to enjoy playing together.
Occasional sessions turned into regular sessions which turned into rehearsals which moved on to the endless activity of all groups of musicians - finding a name. Terry is a funny guy who likes puns and that's a good thing for ukulele players because there are three types of ukulele band names: ironic formal names such as The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain and the Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra; "club names" (the Durham Ukulele Group, the Brisbane Ukulele Musicians Society, The Adelaide Ukulele Appreciation Society) and puns. My sister's band is the Ukunesians. I've come across : The dUKES, Uke 'til you Puke, The Plinkers, The Uke Lamers, Sonic Uke. We started as The Ukrainians. Now we're The Ukes of Hazard.
I think the Ukes of Hazard are a country swing group. We both have a love of country so we tend to choose country songs. We also tend to countrify anything we play. So I think we're country. Which makes us a bit different. A lot of uke groups seem to be cover bands like us but go for ironic covers of pop music. I guess we've got a niche although it's hard to say because with the current craze there are thousands of uke groups out there.
Terry and I have no intention of trying to do more than enjoy ourselves so aren't looking for gigs. We haven't played publicly. But our first gig has come to us. Spike's birthday. At our local. I've been a performer for 30 years but it has been a long time since I've been this nervous about gig. Partly that's because I'm playing music instead of acting, partly it's because I'm trying to keep up with a genius musician and partly because a lot of the audience will be friends and I'll see them the next day. But we've said "yes" so we got on with organising a set list. A set list I might add, that will contain every song I know on the ukulele.
Sloop John B - because we both like it's old fashioned rollicking folky nature and it's something familiar for the audience to latch on to as they confront two middle aged blokes with funny little instruments. I think the Weavers did it before the Beach Boys popped it up but it's actually an old West Indies working song.
Bring it on Home. I first heard Sam Cook's classic on John Lennon's Rock and Roll album. I've always liked that Motown sound but never really been a fan. Terry suggested this, though, and he's right. Bring it on Home to Me is made for the Maori strum and a sing along.
Slipping Away. I heard an old muso say once that playing music is a just a job but a hit song - now that is a career. Slipping Away was Max Merritt's career. The Christchurch musician had a great job interpreting R&B down under but there won't be a New Zealander or Australian of a certain age who doesn't know this simple song. It's basically two verses and a bridge. You sing it twice through in one key and then again one note higher. Simple magic.
Mercury Blues. Lot's of people have covered it but David Lyndley made it his own. Crazy as a loon and a genius. If you haven't heard of him you've heard him - Jackson Browne, Warren Zevon, James Taylor. Dave's the guy playing whatever stringed instrument they need - often a lap steel. MB is an ode to cars. Very American.
Don't Think Twice. Terry and I are both Bob Dylan fans. Terry does a great BD impression. I think we could be a Dylan tribute band if we let it happen but we've got more sense. We have a couple down, though, and I love the dark humour in this song of a fella saying goodbye to a gal who has pissed him off.
Evangeline. I am fast coming to the conclusion that The Band were the ultimate purveyors of Americana. Robbie Robertson wrote it, the gorgeous Emmylou Harris sang the quintessential version and it's fun to play. I also get to try the high notes.
Bar Room Girls. I love Emmylou Harris and Emmylou loves Gillian Welch so I love Gillian Welch. There's a sort of movement of young musos writing and playing old-style country and Gillian has it down. This is a beautiful waltz that's gorgeous to sing and let's face it - we all love the barroom girls.
I'm on Fire. The closest we come to the ironic pop thing. It sounds really good on ukes.
Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Hank Williams. If you're a country fan I need to say no more. If you're not - listen to Hank. As you listen remember that for every overindulged, rebellious, system fighting, artistically tortured, depressed, lovelorn, drug addicted stereotypical rock or pop star, Hank did it first. With one guitar, talent and a great voice.
Everybody's Talking. A lovely song that Terry suggested. I put Harry Nilsen in a category with Warren Zevon and Randy Newman. Proper American poet/song writers capturing imges of their place reflected in rain soaked streets, dirty windows and gas station bathroom mirrors. Think Ratso and Joe Buck.
I hope I don't fall in Love. I wish I could do Tom Waits' dirty, sodden, smoke stained, piss taking voice. I can't so we soften this a bit. I sing it low so the bottom C at the end of each verse is a challenge. Funny, self effacing, modern poetry.
I'm so Lonesome I could Cry. Did I say I like Hank Williams? I like Hank Williams. There's a great clip of Bob Dylan and and Johnny Cash singing this classic informally around a piano. They linger over every note, savouring the beauty of a simple, simple song so well written.
Red Clay Halo. More Gillian Welch. An Okie song in which the singer bemoans a tough life but uses the metaphor of an after-life to remind him/herself that they wouldn't have it any other way. Or maybe it's just a great country dance song.
Ophelia. The Band again. Impenetrable lyrics. Ophelia has left and no one knows why. God, it's fun to play, though, and has the best ever chord progression. My sis (who knows her stuff) reckons sevenths chords sound great on a uke and she's right. This one is full of them. The verse goes C E7 A7 D7 F G7 C then bowls through a lovely A7, D7, G7 C trill at end of each verse. If that all sounds like muso-wank just get a copy of Northern Lights-Southern Cross and have a listen. See if you can stop yourself singing along as though you're in front of the crowd at The Last Waltz.
Serve Somebody. I'm not a big enough Bob Dylan geek to know if he really did have a Christian phase but this is certainly a gospel song. It's a cracker too. Bob has written lots of songs with lists and this one lists all the things you can be in the world while you're trying to ignore the big question. Even though I don't subscribe to any religious doctrine I like to think of it as a metaphor. What ever it is that we're doing has an impact on our world and we have to decide which side we're on. Fence sitting isn't actually an option.
Wagon Wheel. More nouveau trad. country this time from Old Crow Medicine Show. I really like these kids and this song is a cracker. They've presumptiously taken an unfinished bootleg Bob Dylan chorus and written verses for it. It's a clever song because the tune for each verse and the chorus is exactly the same but it feels like it changes and develops through the song. This is partly because of the the slightly odd scanning of the lyrics in the verses which were hard to nail when we first started playing it. We kept going back to the CD and listening intently to work out where the stress was on each word so we could fit them all in to each line. But the chorus is a real sing along number and enormous fun to play.
My Girl. Well we gotta. It's Spike's birthday after all. A chance to be a bit silly doing the bomm bom bompbompbomp bits vocally.
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