By Bev Williams

REMEMBERING THE VERY FIRST Edale, awakening on the Saturday morning, warm in the sleeping bag. But on a sloping camp site with the rain coming at you sideways when the tent flap was opened, reminds me how far the festival scene has come since then. Edale, for me, was spawned from Cambridge folk festival, where there was always a strong bluegrass presence, when leaflets were flying about, courtesy of Steve Read and Bob Deihl, about a pure bluegrass festival to be held somewhere in the wilds at Hope, a place I’d never heard of. That Saturday I thought it was more a case of ‘abandon hope all ye who enter here’! That was the last time I ever camped anywhere!

The campsite was a quarter of a mile away from the village hall where the concerts and competitions were held, down a narrow, unlit country lane at Barber Booth. I think the hall was supposed to hold about a hundred people but as the years progressed, we managed to cram about twice that into every available corner. Simple PA system - 100W HH foldback. What was that? One year when there was a power cut the hall was small enough to carry on acoustically.

Tom Travis sings with the Rainy City Bluegrass Band at RochEdale 1999

I don’t remember how I was procured as MC, but once it happened I enjoyed it for the next fifteen years through all the changes.

It cost a pound a head to see the concert. This was purely to cover the cost of hiring the hall. We all played for the excitement of being there. If we weren’t playing on stage we were playing inside or outside the Jolly Rambler (see "Edale Train" report), the handy pub across the road. It seemed to be that if you were vertical, you were playing. Sore fingers were certainly the rule.

Contrary to reports it did not rain at every Edale. Admittedly sunburn was a hazard on rare occasions, but who cared? We all gathered every year to pick and meet old friends, possibly the only time we’d meet from year to year. Some are friends twenty four years later.

Prices went up to cover the cost of bringing in American artists. For most people in UK this was the only chance to see pickers we’d only heard on vinyl until there they were there in the flesh, and they were human after all. We all went home absolutely K... d. to civilised sanitation, mentally refreshed and invigorated and determined to do it all again next year.

I hope the foregoing helps to explain why I volunteered to take on Edale when, shortly before Christmas, Tom told me that, for I variety of reasons, he could no longer continue with the organisation of the festival (read the full story). I felt that the oldest festival in this country, something that had given me somuch pleasure for so long, should not be allowed to die.

Firstly the bands; would they do it? Would they go for a new, untried venue? God bless 'em - everybody said “yes”. Simple, really - no bands, no festival. First hurdle over. Away to Holland for Christmas and New Year. This turned into a nightmare when I went down with a bad dose of ‘flu. It was the end of January before I was recovered enough to continue, and the clock was running. Sixteen short weeks to go.

Venue - got to find a venue. Not simple at short notice. Miles later the bill was filled to the sound of barking dogs, the place being a kennels as well as a farm. All the usual offices followed on - water, loo’s, PA, bar and food. Quick prayer to the gods for good weather. Not much time for advertising. A long-time friend said he thought less people were needed to try and regain the old flavour, lost after the festival site moved from the village to the farm in Edale with the greedy farmer.

Blackjack at RochEdale

Came the day, came the services. The “silent” generator wasn’t. The drunken landlord, who was scheduled to put on a bar when I checked with him a couple of days before, was hardly coherent enough to tell me he wasn’t doing it. Too late to do anything about that! The loo’s were excellent as was the fast food by Gobble’n’Go. The farm water was from a borehole and slightly discoloured, not a thing to give city folks.

Came the day, came the bands - and how! Over the years I’ve seen most of the bands who were there but I have never, ever heard the standard produced by everybody that weekend. Many people said the same thing so this is not just my opinion. All I can say is “you were great.” My thanks go to every one of you who performed so well.

To close let me say that 1000 ft. above sea level in the Pennines is too high at that time of year, so next year a concert hall venue is anticipated, at a lower altitude, with good facilities and surrounded by pubs.

John “JK” Keegan, one of this years MCs, has already scheduled his wedding for the Friday of the festival next year. And I’ve had the offer of some unique prizes for the instrumental competitions next year.

Finally, my apologies to anybody I lost contact with. My personal (dis)organiser crashed half way through the organisation period and finally imploded - it was consigned to the dustbin just before the festival weekend. You can not beat hard copy!

Bev Williams (RochEdale Organiser) Milnrow.

6th Sept 1999