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Hidden in the depths of North
Yorkshire, Brawby is so small it doesn't even possess a pub.
So how come it hosts big-time gigs? Alfred Hickling went to try
the door at The Shed.
Shedding light on one of life's little mysteries "You get a different kind of taxi-driver in the countryside. We are meandering through the inky blackness across what was once, the driver reliably informs me, the floor of an aluvial lake, the Howardian hills behind us, the moors to our right.
This area is home to the highest concentration of racehorses in the country, and on a clear night the view of the stars from here is unparalleled: but not tonight. The particular star we are looking for is Tom Robinson, whose biggest hit, 2-4-6-8 Motorway, was a song about driving around in the dark. And, much as the taxi driver is loathe to admit it, we can't find him. As it turns out, Tom Robinson has himself experienced a spot of difficulty locating the venue. So indeed does everyone - except the happy band of devotees who regularly make the pilgrimage to Britain's most inaccessible arts centre: The Shed. Arriving late and lost is possibly a kind of test for potential initiates laid down by The Shed's inscrutable svengali, Simon Thackray. But once you've found it, you want to go back. "I want to come back," announces Tom Robinson, half way through a storming show to a heaving crowd of, ooh, about 60, who let out a roar sufficient to blow the roof off Brawby village hall. The man who runs the post office won't be pleased. He's very severe about indiscretions such as using sticky tape on the walls and will not be at all happy about having the roof blown off by a chap who had a few hits 20 years ago. Sometimes The Shed happens at Brawby village hall: at others, it occupies the facilities at Hovingham which, with its mammoth 200 capacity, is where Thackray holds his arena-sized gigs. Tom Robinson, however, puts in an arena-sized performance notwithstanding. This may be where the WI congregate weekly, but Tom Robinson doesn't half give it some welly. People love The Shed because it carries with it Simon Thackray's guarantee of quality. Frequently devised in collaboration with Thackray's sparring partner, the celebrated Barnsley poet, broadcaster and arts supremo Ian McMillan, The Shed's mercurial programming ranges from the audacious - international stars and cult favourites like Labi Siffre, John Otway and Hank Wangford - to the frankly barmy; like the Scandinavian film-maker who showed videos on Thackray's telly and recited in Finnish. Most of these gigs instantly transfer to the realms of myth - legendary evenings with that elusive "were you there when...?" mystique which must make other arts programmers tear their hair. Even the South Bank Centre looks to The Shed for inspiration. When Thackray casually mentioned that he'd been offered [put together actually] an exclusive double bill of songwriters Kevin Coyne and David Thomas, Britain's flagship arts centre immediately requested a partnership. Thus it came about that Simon Thackray's Shed door appeared at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. The door, which rather like the entire enterprise, long since came off its hinges, now serves as a backdrop to all Shed events. Shed-door T-shirts, even little replica Shed-door earrings are available. And all because, having booked his very first concert in 1992 (a Gambian Kora player at Kirby Misperton Church ) Thackray realised he needed a name and a corporate image. So he went into the back garden and took a photograph of the first thing he saw. One wonders what might have happened had he stumbled across a tin of creosote and a pair of wellies. These days, The Shed is officially funded by Yorkshire Arts and Ryedale District Council. The mailing list has more than 1,500 fiercely loyal subscribers - many of whom travel implausible distances, including some from as far as Aberdeen. The man from the post office may view Thackray with suspicion, but the lady who does B-and-B thinks he's marvellous. Tickets for Shed shows are hot property. A few remain for legendary saxophonist Snake Davis (on a night off from touring the world with M People, at Hovingham village hall) on December 5; but the Hank Wangford Christmas Party sold out months ago. The only answer is to put your name on the list for one of Thackray's famously elliptical season brochures and get your application in before everyone else. Not surprisingly, Thackray has found himself under all sorts of pressure to expand. As Tom Robinson removes his smart, black backdrop, along with swathes of the village-hall paintwork, Thackray contemplates a furtive trip to the DIY shop before the following night's gig. But why should an organisation with the pulling-power to attract major-league artists remain subject to the sticky-tape dictats of the man at the post office? "The way I look at it," reasons Thackray, "The Shed is like a malt whiskey. You don't just put it in a pint pot and fill it up with water." So there you have it. Incontestable proof that it's not size which counts. It's what you refuse to do with it." © Alfred Hickling YORKSHIRE POST ( Published Saturday 20 November 1999 )
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Trade Marks
and Copyright Address: The Shed, Brawby, Malton, North Yorkshire
YO17 6PY |
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| The Shed is supported by Arts
Council England and Ryedale District Council. |
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