The spark to seek out this masterful record was a grainy black-and-white film about The Watersons called Travelling for a Living, directed by Derrick Knight. The 1966 film made a lasting and deep impression. It is the BBC at its brilliant best, out in the field, exactly in the right place at the right time, capturing the pure drop very shortly before the tap runs dry.
This striking film captures an entire culture on the cusp of obliteration and a close-knit family group on the doorstep of stardom and colourful new horizons.
Norman, Mike, Lal and their cousin John Harrison are about to hit the high road. But Grandmother’s kitchen is still the cradle for their harmonising. The nest is still intact. They refine their craft in the company of family and friends. How beautiful is that? The contrast with where they play their gigs couldn’t be more dramatic.
Hull is home-sweet-home. Hell is round the corner. Heaven is awaiting. It’s enchanting to watch and a joy to listen to.
The film is about The Watersons' world. It watches the dimming of the light around the historical port of Hull and it captures the family coming together and finding their own sound with the songs of a tradition that has evolved over centuries. Frost and Fire, released in 1965, essentially follows the passage of the year through the medium of traditional and ancient ceremonial songs.
The recording process itself was at a nexus moment. New ways of using microphones, to make this harmony singing as tangible as the noise and smoke we see billowing from the tiny cramped kitchen of their terraced home, were being forged.
The sound is intimate and strong. Bill Leader brings them close together and fosters their immense power. Their solos are strident and soulful but it is when the voices collide that the breath really rises and sets the twilight reeling. There are soaraway moments galore. They reach upwards and see no obstacle as to how high they can go. The collective youthful exuberance gives it an extra gear. They had some go in them.
