55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Behind the wheel in Belgium, 1967.
Dad worked as the manager of a shop selling
hi-fi equipment from the beginning of the 1960's up until we moved out of London in 1975, and from time to time would buy LP's
with which to demonstrate record players to
customers. If he liked something he heard, he
would record it onto reel-to-reel tape at
work and bring it home. In 1967, among
several others I'm sure, I particularly remember that he
brought home tapes of 'The Byrds Greatest
Hits', 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club
Band' and 'Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits'. I
still have his Byrds and Dylan tapes, which
he continued to play and enjoy for another 30
years, although he never purchased anything
else by either artist. He wasn't so keen on
'Sgt Pepper' though, and soon taped over it.
A few months later, after updating the
demonstration records at the shop, he brought home the fairly worn 'Sgt Pepper' LP for me to keep. I didn't fully appreciate the significance of the record for another few years, but did get to know it well enough to write a couple of stories in English lessons at school, based on the lyrics of 'She's Leaving Home' and 'Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds'.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far.
Christmas '66
For obvious reasons, all of the music discussed thus far in this series, burrowed its way into my consciousness slightly later in my childhood, when I was old enough to fully take it in. From this point on, though, I began to enjoy new records bought by Dad, or others I heard on the radio, as they appeared. Take 'Pretty Flamingo' by Manfred Mann for example. Years later, I'd hear great versions by artists such as Paul Weller, Bruce Springsteen and Elvis Costello, but I'll always return to the original. Some songs just take you right back there. And this one does just that.
55 records in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
'Helping' Mum in the garden. 1965.
The pictures on the nation's television
screens may still have been in black & white,
but in 1965, my imagination was ablaze in
vivid colour, thanks to the creativity of one
man - Gerry Anderson. I was marginally too
young for Fireball XL5, but Stingray was
already a firm favourite by the time
Anderson's newest TV series, Thunderbirds,
appeared on the scene in October of that year.
How I met the Tracy family.
Century 21 Records used the latest in their
brilliant '7" Mini LP' series to introduce
the Tracy family, Lady Penelope and Parker. Thanks to the kindness of
Aunts and Uncles, I accumulated a clutch of
these records, which contained theme tunes
and exclusive adventures featuring all the
various Supermarionation characters. I played
those records constantly on the family
radiogram and still know them all off by
heart, including every scratch, crackle and jump. Thunderbirds are Go!
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
At the end of August 1964, Dad sat me down in front of the family reel to reel tape recorder to interview me, much as he did from time to time, right up until I was about 7 or 8 years of age. On this occasion the talk was all about school. My first day was fast approaching and I was really looking forward to it. He asked me what I thought I was going to do at school. 'Play football' I confidently replied.
The original letter sent to my parents prior to my first day at school in 1964. Note point 2. (Click to enlarge)
When the big day finally arrived, I was keen and eager to get going. I'd chosen my clothes the evening before and even told Mum what I'd like for lunch - soup, so family legend has it. Then, clutching Mum's hand, we walked the short distance to Markhouse Infants School. The Mothers of all the newcomers were invited to stay for a short while to ease the transition for their children, before being ushered quietly from the room. Mum gave me a little wave as she left and with her went every shred of my confidence. The flood gates opened and I cried. And cried. And cried. After an hour or so of me howling the place down and no doubt having tried every soothing trick in the book, one of the teachers phoned Mum to ask her to come and get me. I was an utterly traumatised wreck, though later, when it became apparent that Mum hadn't abandoned me forever and would be there to collect me each lunchtime and at the end of every day, I settled into school life quite happily.
What a little angel I was! Mum & I, 1964.
Earlier in 1964, West Ham United won the FA
Cup, beating Preston North End 3-2 in the
final. Dad, though approaching the end of his
interest in football, went to the match at
Wembley, then, a few days later, took me to
see the team's victory parade through the
streets of the East End. I found this
marvelous converted cine film footage of the
parade, which is a fascinating little time
capsule and well worth a look, football fan
or not.
Here I am in the crowd, a little overwhelmed, not even a football fan, but wearing my rosette with pride.
And that rosette? Still got it!
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Some of the tunes accompanying this series of posts might be obscure, others better known, while a few will be absolute classics. Today's selection falls into the latter category and was a firm favourite on the family radiogram in 1964. Honestly, does pop music get any better than this?
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
'Tanx' 10 Years Early.
Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison, even Frank Sinatra.
All artists introduced to me by Dad. Pretty
good really. He could so easily have gone
down the Black & White Minstrels route like
many others of his generation, then where
would I have been? Anyway, add Dusty to the
list. The Springfields were big favourites of
his, particularly popular, I seem to
remember, as a soundtrack to any decorating
going on in the house - an empty room devoid
of wallpaper providing the perfect acoustics
for Dad to sing along.
'Say I Won't Be There', a slightly punchier single than some of
their folkier efforts, still sounds fine.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Modelling my Sunday best in 1962.
1962 was a good year for Bernard Cribbins. He
scored two big hit singles with 'Hole in the
Ground' and 'Right Said Fred', popular tunes
on the BBC's Family Favourites radio
programme throughout my childhood. Often
overlooked nowadays though, is Bernard's
third hit that year, 'Gossip Calypso'. For
some reason this one is vividly etched in my
memory. Perhaps it's Cribbins' breathless
rat-a-tat delivery or maybe it's the unique use
of the phrase 'oxyacetylene welder' in a pop
record, but this song has always stuck.
'Gossip Calypso' was written by Trevor
Peacock. Latterly a noted TV actor, in the
1960s Peacock penned songs for the likes of
Joe Brown, Adam Faith and Billy Fury in
addition to the bona-fide hit, 'Mrs. Brown,
You've Got a Lovely Daughter' for Herman's
Hermits.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far.
I've written about Dad's love of music a few
times, how it drifted from Jazz in the 1950's
to Pop in the 1960's and on to Classical in
later life. He was never interested in
Rock 'n' Roll, yet owned virtually complete
sets of Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison singles,
many of which I still have. I think it was
the quality of the songwriting that attracted
him to these particular artists. He had good
taste too. All these years later Buddy and
Roy are legends, while other popular artists
of the day have faded from memory.
Are you laughing at my hat? The Swede in '61.
The drama of Roy Orbison's songs captivated
me as soon as I was old enough to pay
attention, evident even in lesser hits like
'Blue Bayou' and 'Borne on the Wind', but
dominant in 'It's Over', 'In Dreams' and most
of all here, in 'Running Scared'. One day (I
don't know how old I was, 5, perhaps 6) as I
listened to this song, I can remember feeling
my eyes tingle and tears starting to form. It
was frightening, I thought something was
wrong with me, but, even at such a young age, I was already picking up on
the emotion in the writing and
performance. 50 years later, it's still a
challenge to make it through 'Running Scared'
unscathed.
In 55 days I will turn 55 years of age. To
mark this...ahem...momentous occasion, I'm
going to attempt, over the next 55 days, to
post a song for every year
of my life so far. Some will be personal
favourites, others obscurities. I'll try to
avoid anything I've already posted (or have
made other plans to use in the future) and
will also exclude the obvious towering
presences in my musical life - so no Dylan,
Clash, T.Rex, Miles Davis, Lee Perry etc. Oh,
and of course, only one song per artist.
Could be tricky.
Having a laugh at a few months of age.
So let's start at the very beginning. Number
1 in the charts on the day of my birth, and
for most of April 1960 in fact, was 'My Old
Man's a Dustman' by Lonnie Donegan. Before I
came along and before he married Mum, my Dad
was a frequent visitor to Soho’s Jazz clubs,
often to see Ken Colyer’s Jazzmen or Chris
Barber’s Jazz Band, both of whom featured
Donegan on guitar and vocals. Dad continued to
follow Lonnie for a while after he went solo
and I still have a few of his original
records in my collection.
Donegan was a very influential figure in the
pre-Beatles UK charts, amassing a total of 31
top 30 singles between 1955 and 1962, several
of them interpretations of traditional American Folk and
Blues songs. 'My Old Man's a Dustman' was one
of his occasional Music Hall inspired novelty hits, which perhaps
diluted his true legacy a little for later
generations, though even on this single, the b-side
featured a strong version of the Child Ballad
'The Golden Vanity'.
Becoming aware of Dad playing his 'My Old
Man's a Dustman' single in the early 1960's
counts as one of my very first musical
memories. Dad sang along, very loudly, with
most of the records he played and songs he
heard on the radio, a habit he never grew out
of. (To the extent that, following his death
47 years later, Mum claimed one of the greatest
challenges she had to face, was to become accustomed to the deafening
silence that settled on the house.) In the case of 'My Old
Man's a Dustman' he also had to try to
explain the lyrics to his little boy. 'What
are 'cor blimey trousers' Dad?'
Every four to six weeks, Mrs S and I get
together with two other couples, old friends
from my record shop days, to eat lunch, drink
wine and catch up with each other's lives. We
take turns to host what has come to be known
as, 'The Tummy Club', and yesterday it was our
turn. After licking our plates clean, we
headed out into the late afternoon sunshine
to walk off our hearty meal, returning an hour later to enjoy a
slice (or two) of Mrs S's outstanding
homemade cheesecake, in front of a roaring
fire.
The Tummy Club reconvenes in the middle
of March. Can't wait.
Here's the great Sid Griffin with a bluegrass
interpretation of a much recorded Chet Powers
song, taken from his fine 2014 LP, 'The Trick
Is to Breathe'.
I'm currently putting together a new feature,
which, all being well, should kick-off in
about ten day's time. While strolling through
my physical and digital archives in
preparation, I unearthed a few more good ol'
good 'uns that I've not yet shared. Take
'Rone' by Brooklyn band Callers for instance.
A delicious slice from their 2008 debut LP,
'Fortune', and a big favourite in this house
at the time.
You might want to grab a torch. Things are
about to get dark. Very dark indeed. Until an
hour ago I'd never heard of Jamey Johnson,
Twiggy Ramirez or Shooter Jennings, but it
appears that in 2013 these three artists combined to release the very arrangement of perennial favourite, 'You Are My Sunshine', that I might have recorded myself, were I in their position. Unsettling, brooding, menacing - the way I've long thought the song should be approached. And these guys nail it.
Jamey Johnson
Turns out that Shooter is Waylon's son,
Jamey's very big on the contemporary country scene and
Twiggy, believe it or not, is Marilyn
Manson's bassist! 'You Are My Sunshine' was
recorded for the soundtrack of an American TV
Series, 'Sons of Anarchy'. Brace yourself.
In addition to the vacuuming duties that I
detailed in a recent post, my other key role
in this house is, much like Keith Flint, as a firestarter. That is to say I bring
in logs, saw up the scrap, chop the kindling
and generally prep the wood-burner for action.
Thus it was that last night I diligently
screwed up several sheets of newspaper,
liberally sprinkled some finely chopped
kindling, applied a match and then added
scrap wood to get the flames really burning.
It was only when I sat back to bask in the
warming glow that I sensed something was
amiss. What was it? Then it hit me. As I've
already mentioned, any fire in our house is
traditionally located within the confines of
a wood-burner, this one though, was roaring
away on the sofa. I'd accidentally lit a fire
on the sofa! Panicking, I ran into the garden,
grabbed a spade and lifted the whole blazing,
popping pile of scrap as one, throwing it
into the wood-burner and slamming the doors to
seal it in. Needless to say, the room was
full of smoke by this point, making me cough, splutter and retch. And it was coughing and
spluttering that I jolted awoke to find that,
thankfully, I'd been having another particularly vivid dream. So vivid in fact,
I swear I could taste the smoke and feel the
heat of the flames. It was a weird one.
A fire on our allotment a couple years ago, far from any household furniture.
Hence today's trio of Fire related tunes taken from the vaults of the Black Ark. First up, Truth
Fact And Correct's 'Babylon Deh Pon Fire'
from 1976, written and produced by Lee
Perry.
Next, Jah Stitch, who definitely taped 'Burning Fire' at
the Black Ark, though I can't confirm if Scratch was behind the desk for this
session.
Finally, from 1975, Phil Pratt handles
production duties at the Black Ark for Roman Stewart's 'Fire
at Your Heel' (also known as 'Run Come Feel').
If you're of a similar vintage to me, chances
are that I can name two LPs that, at some
point in your youth, made an appearance in
your record collection, however briefly. 'The
Faust Tapes' and Gong's 'Camembert
Electrique' were both marketed by Virgin at
59p each, the price of a single, and were
gratefully snapped up by fiscally challenged
kids the length and breadth of the country.
These two records (along with the Sunset
budget reissue of Amon Düül II's 'Phallus
Dei') became early far-out favourites for me
and my little gang of musical adventurers. We
weren't always sure what exactly was going on within the grooves of these LPs, but we were
totally thrilled by the strange new noises we
were hearing.
There are no doubt a few battered old copies
of 'Camembert Electrique' being dug out and
dusted off today, following yesterday's sad
statement from Daevid Allen, original Gong main man and co-founder of The Soft Machine.
In case you haven't seen it, I quote this
from his website;
'Hello you Kookaburras,
OK so I have had my PET-CAT scans (which is
essentially a full body viewing gallery for
cancer specialists) and so it is now
confirmed that the invading cancer has
returned to successfully establish dominant
residency in my neck. The original surgery
took much of it out, but the cancer has now
recreated itself with renewed vigor while
also spreading to my lung.
The cancer is now so well established that I
have now been given approximately six months
to live.
So My view has Changed:
I am not interested in endless surgical
operations and in fact it has come as a
relief to know that the end is in sight.
I am a great believer in "The Will of the Way
Things Are" and I also believe that the time
has come to stop resisting and denying and to
surrender to the way it is.
I can only hope that during this journey, I
have somehow contributed to the happiness in
the lives of a few other fellow humans.
I believe I have done my best to heal, dear
friends and that you have been enormously
helpful in supporting me through this time
So Thank you SO much for being there with me,
for the Ocean of Love and Now, importantly,
Thank you for starting the process of letting
go of me, of mourning then transforming and
celebrating this death coming up - this is
how you can contribute, this would be a great
gift from those emotionally and spiritually
involved with me.
I love you and will be with you always -
Daevid xxx -'
Awful news indeed. We can only send good
vibes, hope for a miracle and celebrate the
music Allen leaves us with. Here's a
fantastic piece of footage from 1973,
featuring a live performance of 'I Never Glid
Before', originally released on that year's
'Angel's Egg' LP.
The diary's been looking a bit threadbare
recently, but last Sunday, Stewart Lee's
latest stand-up show, 'Room With a Stew',
became my first gig of 2015. Lee is a master
of the demystification of live comedy. For example, when a laugh failed to arrive from the audience at an expected moment, he pressed pause on the performance, stepped out of character and walked us through the elaborate verbal scaffolding he'd erected to take us to that point, castigating us repeatedly for not sufficiently appreciating the quality of the humour. After reaching an apparent crescendo of rage, verging on a nervous breakdown, with the subtlest of movements he revealed that this too was all a device. The tension was released and a huge roar of laughter followed. The show really was a masterclass of a performance, thought provoking and very, very funny. I'm picking up the tour again in May.
When I briefly caught up with Stewart in the
foyer after the show, we took a moment to
share our mutual enthusiasm for the brilliant
Richard Dawson. Dawson's musical palette is
broad, from Faheyesque instrumentals, to
cacophonous drones via unaccompanied
traditional ballads. Sometimes there aren't
adequate words to do justice to such a prodigious talent, so here are three examples of his work,
I urge you to seek out more. This live show
(here) is a good place to start.
It's an exciting week in the Dylan community,
with the long-awaited release of Bob's new
album, 'Shadows in the Night', a re-imagining
of songs previously recorded by Frank
Sinatra. So this seems an appropriate moment
to share my own favourite re-imagining of a
Bob Dylan song of recent years, Bonnie
'Prince' Billy's terrific reading of
'Brownsville Girl', performed at the finale
of the Louisville Motherlodge Festival in
2012. It's an audience recording and there
are a lot of people playing, so it distorts
here and there, but thank goodness someone
captured it. How great is this?
Old Pa over at Tune Doctor is king of the Bob Dylan cover version - he's got hundreds of
'em!
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