A Thousand Pokes

by Stick In The Wheel

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followjohnreed
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followjohnreed Stick In The Wheel take Folk Rock to places where others haven't yet thought to tread. They're original, inspiring, and in this album they may have released their finest work to date. Topped by a rattling good title track, A Thousand Pokes is one of those records where new sounds pop up with every listen. Favorite track: A Thousand Pokes.
danieldevitt
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danieldevitt A Thousand Pokes is a completely marvelous song. I feel like I'm eavesdropping on a time travelling social activist!!

need to stomp along to this very soon!!!
kateviola
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kateviola On a first listen this is probably my favourite SITW album yet. As I accidentally pre ordered 2 CDs I am sending one to my good friend Kevin Hewick, also a big fan of yours and he supported you once in Leicester!
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1.
They came upon The lovers all Boumd to their cause And never leave I’m spared for what Year of this all I’ll weep a bowl Of crystal tears Three offers called No flowers at all He gave to me Go weep the willow tree
2.
What ails thee? Bring forth this ghost This visit upon thy countenance This pale copy Only you can fix your deficits The thing is, your spells don’t work on me Have another go I’ll wait Bring forth your worries Your cares and obligations Let’s have them all out on show An honest fight You see your trials and tribulations mean nothing to others It’s your words and deeds that matter And let me tell you They speak volumes I present to you Several episodes Periods of time in which to think Whatever you want You could always do that Right.
3.
I must my master every day Full of failings and mistakes And bring him of a thousand pokes In syllables and words that spoke Done in order when you re(a)d And in singing what you said I record it to repeat Or else I am-be sorely beat I hear all that you say So gather up and put away And when the times comes I’ll read them all one by one The one who errors they forget But The-collector does not yet Keeping busy surely stored To-accuse the souls-there more Wherefore-it is we like to pence Cos-all the haste and-negligence In order to put remedy Against offenders as they be I hear all that you say So gather up and put away And when the times comes I’ll read them all one by one The liar with his hairy tongue Rabbles up their service done And leaves-not much-other choice To-do well in another voice Better not you syncopate Or your words I’ll have to take Mispronounce your mumbled chat We’ll be having none of that - I hear all that you say So gather up and put away And when the times comes I’ll read them all one by one
4.
Burnt Walk 02:45
We’re born to walk on rotten ground Be still don’t make a sound Oh we’ll never find our hope Oh we’ll never find our road Oh we’ll never ever know What they did be the bough For the piece What they know In the end Burn it down Fire they come Make it go Oh we’ll never find our hope Oh we’ll never find our road Oh we’ll never ever know What they did we don’t know They are many we are low Oh we’ll never find our hope Oh we’ll never find our road Oh we’ll never ever know What they did Never said Still they mark Where we tread Who will stand For us all Free us now Let us go Oh we’ll never find our hope Oh we’ll never find our road Oh we’ll never ever know
5.
Lavender 02:08
Oh won’t you buy my sweet blooming lavender For there are sixteen blue branches a penny You ladies come and make no delay Our lavender’s fresh for you once every day It’ll scent your clothes And your pocket hankerchiefs It’ll keep the moth from your clothing So come along, and make no delay Our lavender’s fresh for you once every day
6.
The Cramp 01:46
Lenten stuff is come to the town The cleansing week comes quickly You know well enough you must kneel down Come on, take ashes trickly That neither are good flesh nor fish But dip with Judas in the dish And keep a root not worth a rish, a rish Herring, herring, white and red Seek out such as be rotten Though some be hanged, and some be dead And some be yet forgotten, The time will come the discipline rod, Though idols dum make many odd, Will firk out some that fear not God, not God Wallfleet oysters, salt and green, Are trim meats to be eaten Trusty subjects to their queen Need never to be beaten. And a salad, sure exceeds, And must procure digestion needs, That’s picked so pure it has no weeds, no weeds New place, new, at every tide, This is the common craving In every place let them be tried, That are of ill behaving For such as of beyond say smell, The come too far to savour well, As I hear the common people tell, they tell And as this lent time many seeks For herbs and salads dainty, I never in my life saw leeks In every place so plenty. For every man likes what he lust, And as he likes he puts his trust, So few or none be like be just, be just Of nettles likewise there be store In salads at this season For men be nettled more and more, With paltry passing reason And sum upon a nettle piss, That see not where the nettle is And many a-one finds fault at this, at this Then Jack-a-lent comes jostling in, With the headpiece of a herring, And says, "repent you of your sin, For shame, sirs, lay your swearing." And to Palm Sunday does he ride, With sprouts and herrings by his side, And makes an end of Lenten tide, the tide.
7.
Cracks 03:47
You Master Colliers pray draw near, And listen to my Report; My Grief is great, for though of late, Two Ladies I chanc’d to Court: Who did meet me on Tower Hill, Their Beauties I did behold : Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades, And plunder'd me of my Gold. I'll tell you how it came to pass, This sorrowful Story is thus: Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight, I held in a Cat-skin Purse: The value of near Fourscore Pounds, As good as e'er I had told, Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades, And plunder'd me of my Gold. I saw two poor distressed Men, Who lay upon Tower-Hill, To whom in brief I gave Relief, According to my good Will: Two wanton Misses drawing near, My Guineas they did behold; They laid a Plot by which they Got, My Silver and yellow Gold. Then to East-Smithfield was I led, And there I was entertain'd: With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine, In Merriment we remain'd: Methought it was the happiest Day, That ever I did behold; Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce, They plunder'd me of my Gold. As I was at the wanton Game, My Pocket they fairly pick'd; And all my Wealth they took by stealth, Thus was a poor Collier trick'd: Let me therefore a Warning be, To Merchants both young and old; For now of late hard was my Fate, I'm plunder'd of all my Gold. They got three Pounds in Silver bright, And Guineas above Threescore, Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs, I'll never come near them no more: Sure now I have enough of them, My Sorrow cannot be told; That crafty Crew makes me look Blew, I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.
8.
Can't Stop 02:03
Well, he was missing when I found him He was dead as the car around him In the rain the siren was sounding Now, he's lost his no-claim bonus And I can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it NoI can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it Well, mate, you'd be amazed At the things the papers say It's got me going all ways Vanishing off in the distance And I can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it NoI can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it Well, you tell me what is new I won’t smile if you ask me to Yer little oaks from acorns grew But the flies are still dyin' inside it And I can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it NoI can't stop thinkin' about it No I can't stop thinkin' about it
9.
When you tried, you tried it was for nothing You’d give it all for a chance to run away I’ll let you know these times they were a-coming Still you shut your ears and turn your head Oh dear what can the matter be What can the matter be What can the matter be Meet me down by hell that’s now froze over Let’s go over this one more time Pick your pace up man we don’t want you falling A second glance from you is all I need Oh dear what can the matter be What can the matter be What can the matter be Turn you back around keep on walking Before you know it boy you’re on your knees Look into my eyes you will see nothing And least of all you’ll not see me Oh dear what can the matter be What can the matter be What can the matter be And when you think you’re safe then I’ll be rolling I let you know one day I’d come for you Pick your friends the only ones to save you Choose them wise to live another day Oh dear what can the matter be What can the matter be What can the matter be Come you gather around you ladies and gentles I’ll tell you of a tale you’re not meant to see And if the inside here is too shocking Remember that you never heard it from me Oh dear what can the matter be What can the matter be What can the matter be
10.
Watercress-o 04:01
At five o'clock on a Sunday neet, There's a man comes walkin' down our street, You may hear him out in front of the row, Crying, “Tuppence a basket, watercress-o!” Watercress-o, watercress-o, Crying, “tuppence a basket, watercress-o!” Oh, come on, mam, it's time for tea, Go and get tuppence and give it to me So I may go out in front of the row And fetch a little basket of watercress-o, Watercress-o, watercress-o, And fetch me a basket of watercress-o. Oh, kid, you don't know what you're asking of me, If I'd got tuppence, I'd be sure to give it thee, So thou could go out in front of the row, And fetch a little basket of watercress-o, Watercress-o, watercress-o, And fetch me a basket of watercress-o. Our dad's on strike, kid, can't you see? He scarce brings home enough to feed us wi', And though it pains me to tell you “no”, You'll have to do without your watercress-o, Watercress-o, watercress-o, You'll have to do without your watercress-o. We're all in the union down our street, So maybe he won't come back another week, For till the strike is over, he might as well know, He'll not sell much of his watercress-o, Watercress-o, watercress-o, He'll not sell much of his watercress-o.
11.
Brisk Lad 01:54
I am a brisk lad and my fortune is quite bad, In fact I am wondrous poor. But I do intend my fortune to mend, And I'll build me an house down on the moor, my brave boys, I’ll build me a house on the moor. My father he keeps fat oxen and sheep And a neat little nag on the down. But in the middle of the night when the moon it shines bright There's a number of jobs to be done, my brave boys, There's a number of jobs to be done. For I'll roam around on some other man's ground, And I'll take a fat ewe from his pack. And with the aid of my knife, I shall shorten its life And I'll carry him home on my back, me brave boys, I shall carry him home on my back. Then my children will pull the skin from the wool, I'll carve him up to the bone. And when the constable do come I'll stand there with my gun And I'll swear all I have is my own, my brave boys, I shall swear all I have is my own.
12.
Hush 01:38
Hush a bye baby on the tree top When the wind blows the cradle will rock When the bough breaks the cradle will fall Down will come baby cradle and all Rock a bye babe your cradle is green Father’s a nobleman mother’s a queen Sally’s a lady wears a gold ring Johnny’s a drummer he drums for the king Hush a bye baby on the tree top When the wind blows the cradle will rock When the bough breaks the cradle will fall Down will baby cradle and all
13.
So it is true So it is true This true story, I do tell Tell it over, listen well This man he said, these people You can trick them, they don’t know He took their words, from their own Paid them promise, all turned to dust See how his fires, fake the flames Of his own making, he will get burned Dressed in riches, steals the thief Word is spreading, it will be done It will be done It will be done One day they came, to reclaim He is broken, patience I do not claim, to know all But the buying of others, I cannot So it is true So it is true

about

SITW’s fourth studio album is a satirical celebration of mistakes. A joyous lambasting of everyone and everything that’s wrong in the world, against the real-time backdrop of global uncertainty, corruption and political unrest.

A London Charivari. Rough Music. A gleeful old-fashioned cancelling. A Chaunter’s delight. 14th Century recording demons collecting mistakes in a sack. Women mugging rich merchants. Nettles being pissed on. Shit food at Lent. A terrible plan. An undoing. The aftermath of a car crash. Catching people doing something they shouldn’t. Nursery rhymes reimagined as death threats. Behind the sarcastic acerbic delivery, Nicola Kearey and Ian Carter convey thoughtful, essential interpretations encouraging us all to check ourselves, through the multi-layered music of cities through time. This is about as far away from pastoral folk music as you can get.

In their typical wry city-weary style, a beady eye is cast over those committing wrongs in plain sight, with Kearey narrating a series of tales of people fucking up, or being fucked up, with some brief respite in Lavender - one of London’s oldest street melodies - the album being named after the 14th Century story of Tittivilus, the recording demon, who collects scribes’ mistakes (pokes) and the idle chatter of the “liars with their hairy tongues” congregation. Kearey’s performance can both charm you into her confidence and bait you into an aggressive fracas. Each song’s character is fully inhabited with a fierce tenacity, whether that’s punchy spoken word (The Cramp, A Thousand Pokes), heartfelt balladry (Lavender, Watercress) or powerful psyche-folk (Burnt Walk, Steals The Thief), almost like a Cockney Piaf.

“We sing these songs because we are the same people that would have sung them 200 years ago. It’s not a fantasy, or a cosplay, it’s a reality, for us. Trying to make the music ours, our own tradition, to tease out a link to past communities and all their threads and tendrils, mix and match as people assimilated into the city.” Kearey

Despite this seriousness, the album’s working-class dry gallows humour carries a stoic “if you don’t laugh you’ll cry” feeling amongst the corruption, scandals and barefaced lies we all observe on a daily basis, with a warning that “only you can fix your deficits” and “it’s your words and deeds that matter…and let me tell you, they speak volumes”.

The gentle persuasion of Carter’s dobro guitar is at once twisted into thug-like distorted riffs, and teased into intricate deft lacework melodies with a Baroque flair, a chimera that reinforces and underpins the heavy rhythms that are another trademark of Stick In The Wheel’s work. Crystal Tears and Steals The Thief bookend the record, these are tracks that show more of a modern influence with drones, hardtuned vocal, psychedelic guitars; a reflection of their immediate culture and the sounds of their environment.

“We wanted to make a record that sounded like us, where we’re from, in all its complexity. At the core is our version of traditional music, made in the city, with influences from everywhere.” Carter

The core of the record imagines a sound of traditional London music, where the musical continuum is unbroken by the population decimated by the world wars, or by gentrification and social cleansing that has forced communities apart, and yet absorbs all the influences of all the communities that call London their home. Carter and Kearey attempted sessions at The George Tavern, Whitechapel, and in Spitalfields, at Denis Severs’ House, and a restored weaver’s townhouse, carrying the aesthetic of the record in their heads as they moved from location to location, before settling into an old factory building and their own workshop. The resulting sparse and economical sound is harsher, more present, more essentially them. It is a mighty haranguing that demands your attention.

Praise for Stick In The Wheel:
“If there’s anyone who deserves their props amid this surge of attention directed towards radical folk, it’s Nicola Kearey and Ian Carter of Stick In The Wheel, who’ve been bringing an energy, political urgency and experimental drive to traditional music for a decade.” THE QUIETUS
“The most important band in the current British folk scene” ELE-KING MAGAZINE, JAPAN
“Their music is both renewal and critique, working with old materials to bring attention to how their friction with modern sounds sheds light on contradictions that transcend time.” BANDCAMP

credits

released October 11, 2024

Recorded, mixed and produced by Ian Carter. Co-produced by Nicola Kearey. Mastered by Barry Grint at Alchemy/Air Studios. Guitars, bass, accordion, synths, programming: Ian Carter. Vocals, handclaps: Nicola Kearey. Drums/percussion on The Cramp, A Thousand Pokes, Burnt Walk, What Can the Matter Be?, Back of The Hatch and Can't Stop: Sian Monaghan. Additional drums/percussion: Ian Carter.

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Stick In The Wheel London, UK

Stick In The Wheel’s work is rooted in traditional music and song, informed by the modern electronic music that grew out of their hybrid East London heritage.

“SITW grab hold of folk music with both hands, dragging it through the 21st century city with no fear they might somehow break it.” THE QUIETUS

“The most important band in the current British folk scene” ELE-KING MAGAZINE, JAPAN
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