Saturday, November 13th, 1999, The Chill Club, London

Suzi Ragsdale

www.iowrock.demon.co.uk/suziragsdale/index.htm

words Mike Plumbley    picture Jeff Horne

The Kings Head is a big busy pub on the Fulham Road just about ten or so stops West from central London on the tube. The excitement of England overpowering the Scots on their own turf has subsided into collections of friends arm in arm wandering around a little blathered.

Downstairs at this early hour, just after 7.30, the Kings Head pool tables are in full swing and the bar stools starting to fill. The sign outside on the pavement says 'The Chill Club this way' Through the back door up some old dark stairs onto a landing. Some grubby dark toilets one way, no lights just candles to stop you wetting your boots. Straight ahead a narrow entrance into a fair sized room.

A tiny bar in the corner by the door, a sound desk opposite. The high ceiling lowered by a thin red chiffon cover billowing over a large mattress that covers most of the floor front of the 'stage'. Cushions dotted everywhere and a few low tables and stools. 'Chill out, lie back, listen up to the best live music in a beatnick, bohemian bedroom.' All that is missing is the waft of spliffs and Turkish dancing girls.

The pa and instruments are fitted into the opposite corner to the sound desk. A dark haired lady sits listening to her guitarist sound check. An Englishman dodges over the clutter of open guitar boxes and wires to lean over the electric piano to say hello. This is Suzi Ragsdale from Nashville. Her smile lights up the darkened room, and we exchange greetings.

Somewhere in this dark room must be Jeff Horne and Nick Evans who wrote the Guy Clark Songbuilder book. Jeff said to look out for two blokes with glasses one with a beard. The room has only a handful of people in it, some clutching guitars and most looking over to Suzi Ragsdale as she takes her soundcheck.

Suzi Ragsdale opens with the spoken introduction to Future Past, 'I dreamed last night that the world spun on its axis suspended by a giant rubber band, it was wrapped so tight til it stretched all the limits' The diction is as clear as mountain stream. Just as the guitarist comes in, half a verse or less she stops and wants to take the chorus to find the limits of her voice for the soundman.

That over she calls 'Nick' up. A big guy with glasses grabs a guitar, plugs in his acoustic and nods to Suzi Ragsdale behind the big Yamaha piano. The song is like smoke from a campfire, Suzi Ragsdale has one of those voices akin to a Jameson's whiskey. Its smooth, silky and has warmth. Nick leans into the song pushing chords down with his right hand feeling the emotion that the singer gives the song. The bearded young guitarist sat to other side of Suzi Ragsdale is smiling and keeping time as the singer invokes sitting out under a cornbread moon on a Tennessee porch:

'Mama tell me the story of the handsome young farmer and his Cherokee bride in the days before time took his jet black hair and moonshine took the shine from his eyes moonshine took the shine from his eyes'

Around the room the muso's and friends are applauding. I stop clapping, jeez this is going to be 30 minutes worth hearing tonight . . .

By this time I've figured that the bearded guy across the room from where Nick got up must be Jeff Horne. He's expecting to see Zandtanista shirt but he won't under this black bohemian smock I've got on. It doesn't take long for us to make introductions. We all finally put names to email signatures. Klaus the performers guitarist tonight works at the 12 Bar Club. Suzi's off down there on Sunday night to see Kimberely (Clark I think) who works at Douglas Corner as a waitress but also writes and performs too. Nashville girls sticking together. Jeff makes the introduction to Suzi's Mum, who is sat quietly with a young guy at the head of the table.

Tom's not from Nashville, he comes from the Caatskills, close to Ashoken he says. 'Ashoken Farewell' I tell him. 'Yes, you know that?' 'Jay Ungar'. We are off to a good start. I've forgotten more daft English geograph lessons than I care to remember but I can quote chapter and verse on Jay Ungar, Cat Mother and Mendocino. The Albion Doo Wah Band are close to Isle of Wight miscreants hearts.

Suzi's mum is great. By some coincidence she and Nick have struck up a conversation about the Isle of Wight before I came in. 'This is strange,' says Nick 'and in you come'. Later over real good Italian pizza at Pizza Express Suzi's Mum (Kate or Katie I think, I'm terrible with remembering names even my own . . .) will ask if I'm serious about a guided tour of the Isle of Wight. 'I'd be honoured to show you where Dylan stayed and take you all to see Tennyson's Freshwater.'

Suzi's mum tells me that the traffic and driving over here is manic and those in Nashville would never survive. The pace of life in London she thinks is faster than New York 'everyone is so intent and rushing everywhere . . .' 'I think you might like the Isle of Wight then, we are real laid back like Nashville . . .'

But back off Fulham High Street to the upstairs Chill Club. The cover charge is moderate but the place is packed with people by 9.25. Suzi Ragsdale taking double Jim Beam on the rocks. 'This will give your set a kick,' I smile to her as the mc comes to ask if she is ready.

Suzi Ragsdale came from Nashville a couple of months ago looking for gigs and folks interested in her songwriting talent. She has recorded a CD Future Past with some of the most respected musicians in Nashville including Verlon Thompson and the producer of Future Past Darrell Scott.

Suzi Ragsdale makes her way down to the piano. The pillows and mattress in front of the instruments are now covered with people curled up comfortable like night in front of the tv. The mc says we are in for a treat this lady has an incredible voice. Klaus is ready sat down waiting with fingers hovering over his fretboard.

Suzi begins 'This is a song about if we could mak time go backwards . . .' Future Past is a take on wanting to do things different in life and love. 'All the greatest love longs are written after the event,' said Joan Baez the other week. From the spoken introduction the song rises and falls in climaxes of choruses and the audience love it.

There's two blokes in front of me, one from the Bohemian Club, a little coffeshop of poetry, comedy and music set up in a wine cellar in West Hampstead (the Nob Hill of London where lots of famous folks live like Bob Hoskins), the other a poet and performer. Suzi Ragsdale has their attention nailed. Me too, this is great.

'You can tell I'm not from around here,' laughs Suzi Ragsdale into the mike. 'My father played piano on this one on the album I'll try to do it for you.' The song is Lost and Waiting To Be Found. This has an after hours feel that piano players invoke while the bartender puts the chairs on the tables. Suzi's vocal has that same haunted mellowness of the morning after the night before. Lovely song.

She follows it with Father's Eye's, 'I have my father's eyes' again another reflective ballad which is sung with soul. The mood is about right for abou my favourite song on her Future Past album, North Carolina. Songs about searching for roots always inspire me. The songwriter explains 'My mother's father was a tobacco farmer and an alcholic . . .' She raises her tumbler and jokes 'looks like it runs in the family'.

'My mums in the audience tonight so this is for her and some people have come all over by train tonight to be here with me and here's one of them please welcome Nick Evans to the stage.' Nick steps up and Suzi has him count in North Carolina.

The Chill club has been hushed throughout Suzi's performance this far and judging by the applause afterwards everyone had drawn their breaths. This is one to tingle the spine. Nick once again leans into his guitar strumming like bending into the wind, Klaus matches his chords on the other side of the piano and they combine with Suzi's lead vocals to make it sound like a hymn.

It's both a travelogue and a history lesson in one. Love the economic use of words to conjure up a feeling of the songwriter finding herself:

'I'm gone up to North Carolina first time to the place you were born a little town at the foot of the mountains weathered and worn, See, the names need the faces to fill 'em first cousins, nieces and aunts they might welcome this curious pilgrim given the chance.'

Listening to Suzi Ragsdale on CD is one thing, hearing her do the songs live is quite something else.

The magic continues. 'I wrote this a couple of months ago after drinking Jameson's, I think I've got a whiskey voice.' Sure has but its not a rough bourbon but something finer but she still has soul. The next song may be called Too Many Closed Doors and its a cracker. It starts 'Two two many sad eyes on the subway, two two many lovers on the pier, two two many closed doors . . .'

Haven't seen too many singer songwriters who use keyboards in preference to guitars and it is an absolute treat to get thirty minutes of from the heart songs. Suzi uses the keyboard to underpin her songs rather than swamp them, just deftly placed chords adding a simple, effective line below her vocals. Love Too Many Closed Doors, it's not on the album perhaps the next one.

Nor was the penultimate number which rocked and had the two blokes in front of me agreeing that Suzi Ragsdale had been worth coming down to Fulham from Hampstead for.

The MC signalled just one more song from the side of the stage. 'I'd better do one with my squeeze box,' laughed Suzi. 'I had my friend Tom carry it all over London today and he won't be pleased if I don't play it tonight. This is a song I wrote with a friend of mine Lauri White, she's had a couple of record deals in Nashville so you may or may not have heard of her, she's got more folk, blues and country in her than most of the standard country stuff coming out now.'

Suzi Ragsdale pulls the straps of the accordian over her shoulders and stands in front of the piano rearranging the mikes. Ship In A Bottle is a fitting closer. The album version is good but live this song takes on a power of its own. Stripped down to just vocal, accordian and guitar it shakes the Nashville studio out of it. Instead it sounds like an English sea shanty not out of place in the rum and sail of Robert Louis Stevenson's Bristol.

'Sometimes I dream about wild, rolling seas and the smell of salt water and the feel of the breeze in my hair'

She knows Freshwater already . . .

Mike Plumbley