L24

It won't have escaped your notice that Paul McCartney is on the cusp of releasing a new solo album (his 18th, if you're still counting). It's called The Boys of Dungeon Lane - to be found in the environs of Speke, Liverpool L24 - another soon to be destination hotspot when you climb aboard the Beatles bus tour around the city. Or as we did a few years back in a Tuk Tuk.

 

Will it be any good, I hear you ask? To be honest with you I think the time for ranking Macca's solo output has probably long passed. He has sporadic moments of late career genius, for sure (I think I alluded to it here - probably around the time when me and countless others were hoping he'd call time on his seven decade musical journey). But he's not showing signs of pulling stumps anytime soon. They'll be carrying him off the stage feet first.

Long time gone (Crosby revisited)

David Crosby died on this day last year aged 81. For much of his life he seemed to epitomise the prevailing counter culture that had sprung up in the late 60s & early 70s. A stoner* for sure, yet Crosby was capable of writing some of the most sublime songs, not just of the times, but songs that are still revered to this day. You need look no further than the first album he recorded with Graham Nash and Stephen Stills: it's littered with them. I'm going to go with Long Time Gone. If you have a spare few minutes then I implore you to check out the version on Tom Jones' TV show in late '69, together with future band mate Neil Young on guitar.

Crosby, Stills & Nash - Long Time Gone (1969)

Talking about Crosby, I was up on Merseyside at the weekend gadding about and, once again, found myself being drawn to Antony Gormley's Iron Men on Crosby Beach. I took some friends who'd never seen them before; it was interesting watching their reaction when they saw them for the first time. I've decided Liverpool will become an annual pilgrimage. I love the city. I love the people. I love the vibe. What more can I say? I know BlogCon24 is currently in the planning stages - if you'e looking for a host city...

Before I go, and keeping with the Crosby theme, I recently found this photo of me. It was probably taken  a couple of years before we left Nottingham, so that dates it around 2008. We'd lived on Crosby Road a little shy of twenty years. I've always said had we have hit the twenty mark we may never have left. Talk about a fork in the road; that would have changed the complexion of this blog for sure, make no mistake. (I may pick this up at a later date - my head is clear now so I can talk about it without all the baggage I'd previously been dragging around.) 

* Not sure how he squared the circle in later life when he brought out his own brand of weed - Mighty Croz, It  probably seemed like a good idea at the time but it's his songs, I hope, that we'll remember him by.

Sentimental Journey

Driving back from a few days away in Scotland I took a slight detour on the way back down the M6 and spent 24 hours in Liverpool: I've been telling Ian Prowse for ages now that 'one of these days' I'd play his legendary Monday Club - a rather special no-covers Open Mic at the Cavern Pub on Matthew Street, now in its twelfth year. And so on Monday, armed with just my guitar and a stomach full of butterflies, I played my songs in front of what I can only describe as a brilliant audience at one of the finest venues in the city; a commitment filled, a bucket list ticked, my soul enriched. 

The following morning after a mega breakfast at Chantilly's I had somewhere else to be: I wanted to make a sentimental journey: the Empress in Dingle L8, though no longer a pub, is still standing. Trying to picture it in my mind's eye how it would have looked in 1970 I pressed the shutter on my camera - this is what it looks like in 2023.

After paying my respects to Mr. Starkey I then  pointed the car in the direction of Crosby Beach. Ever since Antony Gormley installed his 100 iron men on the Merseyside coast in 2005 I've been promising myself I'd get myself up there and walk along the beach and introduce myself to these spectacular inhabitants. As you can see, I befriended one in particular. If your travels haven't yet taken you to this part of the North West I can't recomend it highly enough.  You really should get along. I could've spent all day there. (I'll be going back soon, I can assure you.)

Power and Class

I have a lot of love for John Power: after jumping ship from bass playing duties in the La's in 1992 (he and Lee Mavers had taken the band as far as they could*), Power formed Cast (one of the first - and probably one of the best - Britpop bands I ever saw, early in '95 at Trent Uni) before growing a beard, wearing plaid shirts and transmogrifying into something of a folkie.

John Power - Start at the Beginning (2015)

And along the way he's trod the boards - and gained much critical acclaim - in Lennon at Liverpool's Royal Court playing (the older) John Lennon** and narrator. Here he is backstage rehearsing one of my favourite Lennon songs. I particularly like it as having only two chords it's a tune I often play at the end of a night too.

John Power - Working Class Hero (2013

...

* I'm over simplifying, obviously. It's well documented that Mavers has spent all his working life trying to write and record the perfect pop song. Some say he achieved it with There She Goes. But not Mavers. Nearly forty years later he's still looking for that perfect melody, that perfect hook, that perfect chorus. It's his personal Holy Grail.

** As a native of Liverpool, a Beatles devotee, and having attended Quarry Bank High School, it's the role Power was born to play.

Every Little Helps

Before I go any further I feel I must place on record the fact that I love Liverpool; always have done. And Scousers. You probably already knew that; but, for the avoidance of doubt, I just need to reassure you that I'm posting this video from a place of love. It made me laugh when it landed in my inbox over the weekend, and I'm still laughing now. And, let's be honest, the prevalence of humour has hardly runneth over during during the last three months. OK, that's the caveat out of the way. Here goes:

In an Ideal World...

My lockdown listen of the last seven days features one of rock and roll's unsung heroes: Henry Priestman - born in Hull, raised in Liverpool - is one of life's good guys. He's enjoyed a multi faceted career, but is probably best known for being one of the Christians - the 80s/90s combo featuring the three Christian* brothers, Garry, Roger and Russell. Devotees of David Hepworth and Mark Ellen's Word in Your Ear podcasts will be aware that a spin-off video version 'A Word in Your Attic' has been open for business throughout the lockdown, inviting guests to join them via their Webcams in a delightful show and tell format that I've found absolutely riveting. Henry Priestman's episode can be found here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Indeed I would strongly urge anyone contemplating a life laundry to give it a coat of looking at.

As they should this equally beguiling piece of footage: Henry himself has been recording his own lockdown sessions in his garden shed. Here he is performing a beautiful arrangement of Ideal World - with a little help from his (socially distancing) friends.

Henry Priestman - Ideal World (2020)

* Onomasticians can rest easy - for the record, Priestman's middle name is Christian.

She gives me everything, and tenderly

Liverpool tomorrow. I'm training it - using split tickets for the first time - ETA into Lime Street around lunchtime. Ray's flying in from Belfast, due to land around the same time, so it'll be a spot of bush tucker in the Philharmonic, and then we'll see where the fancy takes us.

We're not expecting to see Macca during our two day stopover, though if he did care to join us I'm sure he'd be good company. There are many questions I'd love to put to him, not least: 'Why, at the age of 76, are you still getting bent out of shape about songs being credited to Lennon & McCartney and not McCartney & Lennon or, in the case of 'Yesterday', McCartney & Lennon can whistle? Life's too short Paulie, get over yourself.

If I've got this right, these two Hard Day's Night period classics - which, as you can see (above) were paired as an 'A' & 'B' side for their American release - were written by the pair thus:

And I Love Her (1964)- McCartney, with Lennon writing the middle eight* 

If I Fell (1964) - Lennon*

*Unless of course you, or indeed Macca, know different

Speke now...

Amateur photographer Keith Jones loves his native Liverpool with a passion. His latest project has seen him going around the city snapping the Pool as it is today, and then overlaying how it would all have looked 50+ years ago; the Beatles landing at Speke Airport in 1964, now John Lennon Liverpool Airport, being a prime example.

John & The Liver Birds

Liverpool. What's not to like? We set up base camp at The Baltic Fleet, one of the city's finest ale houses, and ventured out from there.

From The Beatles to Hitler's brother (a former resident of the 'Pool by all accounts) via Tuk Tuk rides and several sensational beers, we had a blast.

Our numbers were reduced this time (and then there were three) but that never stopped John & The Liver Birds from living high on the hog for two long days and two long nights.

Points were awarded for spotting curlers and snakeskin stilettos. Points were deducted for mentioning the Mersey Tunnel. Damn you Sat-Nav.



The four lads who shook the world are, obviously, omnipresent and the whole weekend (as most weekends in Liverpool tend to be) was accompanied by a Lennon and McCartney soundtrack.

But you do kind of feel sorry for anyone working in a 24/7 Beatles environment. Hey Jude and Let it Be must be akin to Chinese water torture after a while.




After hours parties in the hotel room were civilised and not at all sordid(!) and we all expect to be heading back to The Hampton by Hilton sooner rather than later.

Helter Skelter

The Fab 4

We've not done the Matthew Street Festival in Liverpool for a couple of years now; setting up base camp in the sweaty confines of The Cavern for two whole days and gorging ourselves on every eclectic variation on a Beatles tune you could ever wish for. Some turns even throw in solo stuff (though I don't recall ever hearing anyone brave enough to cover Back Off Boogaloo), even the odd Rutles homage.

That said, another gap in proceedings always seemed to be The White Album. For some reason 1968 doesn't loom large in Liverpool - if you gave me a pound for every time we heard a Bungalow Bill or a Martha My Dear we still wouldn't have had enough to buy a packet of crisps between us. I'm hoping if we go back next year the balance will be redressed.

I found this on Youtube (where else?) lurking in The Beatles aisle. I'd pay good money to see this fella. Maybe he'll be there in 2016. Nice hat btw.

Shack

Scoring heroin on a failed housing project in Liverpool's inner city would not be the subject matter of choice for every songwriter. But to brothers Michael and John Head it's something, by their own admission, they know a lot about. Streets of Kenny is a powerful depiction of life on the other side of the tracks; in every sense of the word. That it got written and recorded at all is a minor miracle - the brothers were in free fall for many years. That it then became one of the main building blocks for their majestic HMS Fable and was performed from the heart and so beautifully makes it even more listenable, to this day.