Interview with Kevin Dempsey

Kevin Dempsey is undoubtedly rightfully counted among the most important guitarists of the British Folk Revival: from his debut with Dando Shaft, passing through Whippersnapper, up to his current duo with the legendary Jacqui McShee. Nearly sixty years of career and seventy-six years of life, proudly a grandfather of seven grandchildren, a musician with a unique and eclectic style, always greatly appreciated both humanly and artistically by his closest friends and colleagues like Martin Jenkins and Dave Swarbrick. A person of rare kindness and sensitivity, a vegetarian since he was twenty and deeply attached to Eastern spirituality. We interviewed him during the weekend we were fortunate enough to spend with him and Jacqui, before opening their concert at the Eden Cinema in Puianello (RE).

How did you approach the guitar, and who were your first musical influences?

Well, before anything else I was a drummer, but if I were to play them today it would sound like a drum kit rolling down the stairs. I chose it because my father was a drummer, and when you're little you dream of being like your dad. At twelve or thirteen, I started playing with other kids my age and we did covers: we played everything that ended up on the charts. But in reality I was much more attracted to soul and blues, so at fourteen I joined another band with guys older than me. Until a friend of mine, who was very passionate about folk, invited me to a concert, telling me that I absolutely had to come. I didn't want to go; folk didn't attract me at all. I had the wrong impression. In the end I went, and it changed my life. Alex Campbell played, the most important figure at the time. It was incredible. It wasn't just the music that struck me, but also the atmosphere, so warm and human. From then on, I decided I only wanted to play acoustic guitar; I consider this my true musical beginning.

What year was that?

It was around 1967. My goodness, a long time ago!

How was Dando Shaft formed, and what are your memories of that era?

It all started when I met Dave Cooper, who was a true "folkman": he didn't care about jazz, pop, or any contemporary music. The two of us started playing together, just vocals and guitar. For me, it was the best thing I had done up to that point: I loved playing with him. Then we thought it would be nice to have a multi-instrumentalist with us, someone who could play flute, violin, mandolin, mandocello… and Dave said, "I know Martin Jenkins!". So we literally went knocking on his door (just like Gigi Bresciani did a few years later, coming from Italy to knock on my door!). We talked very little and immediately started playing all three together. We hadn't agreed on anything at all: we played and played, relentlessly. When we finished we were all stunned; I remember thinking to myself, "My God, this is incredible." So we had the idea to add a double bass player to our trio and tried playing with Roger Bullen, and it was fantastic. At that point we thought the only thing missing was percussion; we knew Ted Kay, who played tabla, conga, and many others. So we called him, and there we were: the beginning of Dando Shaft. We got a record contract for the five of us, but soon realized how much we wanted a female voice with us. All of us knew Polly Bolton and we always said it should be her. When the time came to make a second album under another contract, we decided it was time to ask her to join us. But really, we were all scared of her: she was a very, very strong woman and nobody wanted to go and ask her. So we devised a method: we took five straws, four long ones and one short one. Everyone had to draw one without looking, and whoever picked the short straw had to go to Polly. Naturally, I got the short straw. I knew she was singing at a festival that week, so I went. I am a teetotaler, but before approaching her I had to drink a couple of Guinnesses. So in the end I asked her if she wanted to come to London to see what she thought of the group, and she did. When she came, I had just finished writing the song Riverboat. We had never played it, but I gave her the lyrics, tried my best to sing her the vocal melody, and then we tried playing it together. When we finished, no one uttered a sound for two minutes. They couldn't believe what they had just heard; I still remember the feeling in that room. So we asked her if she wanted to join the band, and she accepted.

Does the name Dando Shaft come from the book by Don Calhoun?

Yes! We didn't have a name and didn't know what to call ourselves. So Martin, who had recently read that book, said "Why don't we call ourselves Dando Shaft?". And we were fine with it. It was a similar thing with Whippersnapper, even though it's a name I never liked. To tell the truth, Martin Carthy suggested it to us.

Tell us also something about Whippersnapper and in general about your relationship with Dave Swarbrick.

I loved that band, it was fabulous. After Dando Shaft and before Whippersnapper, I moved to the United States with Polly, who had meanwhile become my partner. First we went to Houston, Texas, but we didn't like it, so we moved to Los Angeles. There was a lot of jazz around there. I had never played it, but I decided to join a 26-piece jazz band! There were trumpets, trombones, saxophones, a rhythm section… those were new musical influences for us. When we decided to return to England, I joined a group that played a sort of funk jazz. There were five of us: drums, bass, keyboard, guitar, and sax, and I stayed in that band until 1983. One fine day Dave Swarbrick called me and asked if I wanted to go over to his house to play a bit. I was very happy. So I went and we started playing songs from both the English and Irish repertoire, whatever came up. He told me again that he just wanted to play for the sake of it, without mentioning any intention of starting a band. Then we played a few more pieces, and before I left he said to me: "You know Kev, I think we'd be great! I think we can swing!". Shortly after, he called me saying he wanted to form a four-piece acoustic group with me, Martin Jenkins (as in Dando Shaft), and another violinist whom he imagined could be Chris Leslie, whom I didn't know. We rehearsed relentlessly for nine months to have all the material needed for the first album. So just think: before even playing a single concert, we rehearsed for nine months! After this first album, we started to get to know each other and talk more (instead of just playing!), and it was wonderful; it was an extremely stimulating environment. I consider Dando Shaft and Whippersnapper as the two great events of my life. As for Swarb (Dave Swarbrick), he was a fabulous person. I worked with him even after Whippersnapper, in the '90s and early 2000s; we really did so many things together.

Speaking of today instead, how did the collaboration with Jacqui McShee come about?

In 2017 I was a guest at the New Forest Folk Festival, playing on Saturday night. On Wednesday of that same week, I received a call from the manager of Jacqui McShee's Pentangle (who were also playing at the same festival). He told me their guitarist was having health issues and wouldn't be able to make it. So, knowing I would be there too, he asked if I would step in for him. I said yes, and he sent me a list of 12 songs to learn, telling me "this is the setlist," and that was it. With three days' notice. The first notes Jacqui and I played together were right there on stage, right after the presenter announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, Pentangle." "My God," I thought to myself, "I've never played anything like this before." But in the end, of course, everything went great, and for me it was a huge honor to play with her. But it wasn't just that: all of our feelings were positive. So two weeks later Jacqui called me saying she had a concert scheduled in Glasgow, for a commemoration of Bert Jansch. Steve Tilston and several others were playing alongside her. She asked if I would accompany her on guitar. I was happy to accept; we played there in Glasgow and it was truly amazing, so much so that on the flight back we decided we would become a duo. And so this project was born, which has led us to be here again today, eight years later.

Your guitar style is truly eclectic: you manage to blend elements of Celtic tradition with jazz and many other influences. Does it come naturally to you, or do you intentionally merge all these worlds?

No, no, it's not intentional at all; it's simply what comes to me, it's my way of approaching music. There's nothing conscious about it; I don't think "I'll play a bit of jazz here and a bit of folk there." I feel very inspired, for instance, when picking up a different or new guitar: inspiration can arise in me from each of these instruments.

Fifteen years ago, Martin Jenkins sadly passed away. You played beautifully on his album Carry Your Smile, like on the track Not a Day Can Pass.

Martin was always a great friend, right from the beginning of Dando Shaft. I was 18 and he was four or five years older than me. I always thought we played really well together: we clicked! He made this album in Coventry, his hometown. Living in Coventry myself, he asked me to play on a couple of tracks and I was very happy to do so. It was wonderful to play with Martin again. He was a great musician and I don't think he was appreciated enough. In Dando Shaft his mandolin was fabulous, and in Whippersnapper he was no less impressive. I consider myself very fortunate to have played with him for so long.

Is there any advice you would like to give to young musicians wishing to approach the folk world today?

Get a real job! And then play only what you like, what inspires you, what you want; don't try to "do something," to be something. Follow your heart: that is the best thing. It might not be the best thing financially speaking, but it's certainly the best thing you can do in life. Of course, in the '60s and '70s folk had the muse on its side, it received great attention and brought in large audiences, or at least that's how it seemed to me. Today it's certainly not like that anymore.

Francesco Moncalvo and Chiara Pezzella “The Trains Fair”