The Inspiration Orchestra

I first became aware of The Inspiration Orchestra through its founder, Ian White. Ian has been a well-known musician, especially in churches for decades; but I really got to know him through what was known as "Mr White's Guitar Club", at the local primary school. There, one lunchtime a week, my older son, gained a love of guitar-playing which he has to this day. He now plays Hendrix songs on a white Fender Strat (!), but it started picking single note melodies on a battered acoustic in the school hall.

I went one night to see Ian's new project, "The Inspiration Orchestra", playing in a church in central Perth. The Orchestra is entirely made up of people with disabilities, who have music lessons with Ian, and who he brings together for concerts. The players are drawn from across the generations, and come with a variety of different skills and instruments. The concert was wonderful, joyous, heart-warming (sometimes, slightly chaotic, as carers worked hard with musicians to get everything ready for each song), and yes, inspiring. I left a cheery, encouraging note on their Facebook page, and thought nothing more of it.

Then, I was made to think.

I was self-employed at that time, and had just taken on some work doing some publicity, media etc for the Christian philosopher and ethicist Andy Bannister, at Solas. Around that time, he conducted a debate with the atheist, utilitarian philosopher Peter Singer, for Justin Brierley's "Unbelievable?" radio programme. (Incidentally, in this age of censorship, and people seeking to "no-platform" people they disagree with, I love the way that every week, Justin puts people he totally disagrees with on the radio, gives them a platform - and engages with their ideas!) . The Bannister-Singer debate was wide ranging and detailed - but something struck me most profoundly. Singer seemed to be arguing that the value of a human life is somehow proportionate to their abilities, their capacity for decision making, and what they can contribute to the workforce. In comparison, Bannister pressed the case that humans, made in God's image have an intrinsic worth - which is not dependent on their skills, or capacities; but is bestowed by their maker. As such, the most vulnerable should be treasured as much as the powerful, rich and celebrities of our age.

It was a total clash of world-views. If Singer was right, then the weak are holding us back, if Bannister is right- then the mark of true humanity is to care for and value the weakest. I was overwhelmingly convinced that Bannister was right, and that Singer's was a path not merely towards his (notorious) advocacy of infanticide, but on towards a tyranny in which the powerful can determine the value of life.

The question for me then, was what to do with that conviction.

For a while, our family had been supporters of Water Aid, the International Justice Mission and Christians Against Poverty - chipping a few quid every month towards these inherently good things, directed towards the poorest. However, it didn't seem enough, in the light of what I was convinced of in the Bannister-Singer debate.

Then Ian White e-mailed, asking me if I would be willing to help him out with The Inspiration Orchestra! I'm not a musician, and so there's nothing I can do on the music side of things. However, there is a small committee behind the scenes that keeps things running, and I joined it and help with some of the publicity. At one of the last concerts, I was asked to tell people a little about the Orchestra. the words I used were "celebrating value and unlocking talent". Ian works tirelessly with all the musicians, modifying instruments for their particular abilities, teaching, practicing and encouraging. He does this because it is a labour of love, which seems to me to be the perfect outworking of a world-view in which every individual is uniquely valued, and precious, a conviction grounded in the belief that they are made in God's image. The Inspiration Orchestra celebrates the value of every musician and unlocks their talent. That's why the concerts are so utterly joyous. Chatting to some of the musicians after concerts, and in the Orchestra's charity shop in Perth (Shop at 91), has been wonderful. Seeing the way in which music brings so much joy to their lives too, has been tremendous.

Sadly, all concerts are postponed at the moment, because of the Corona virus outbreak. However, they are expected to resume later in the year. Details are on the website, and Facebook.

The Inspiration Orchestra
Shop at 91

Interview with Jonathan Veira

Whether performing opera, gospel, or comedy, Jonathan Veira is known as a larger-than-life character, with a powerful voice and big laugh. When I spoke to Jonathan, I found him in a thoughtful mood, reflecting insightfully on fame, art, work, and the faith that inspires him.

How did you get into opera? I’m guessing it wasn’t the suggestion of a careers teacher?!

JV: My careers advice at school was rubbish! But I had a music teacher who was brilliant at encouraging me. I was terribly bullied, but he took me under his wing and gave me the key to practice rooms, where I started to do music all the way up through ‘A’-level. Whenever I did things on stage he said “Jonathan has ‘it’!” So he pushed me and pushed me and encouraged me to go on to further study.

At university they said to me, “you aren’t very good at the viola, why don’t you have singing lessons?!” In my first singing lesson I thought the professor would want me to sing like a classical singer, so I did my impression of one. Now I’ve ended up singing for the last 34 years professionally… doing an impression of an opera singer; I just hope nobody finds out! 

Then I studied music as a postgraduate, won some national singing competitions, which got me noticed by the famous Glyndebourne Opera Company who asked me to audition, and gave me a job!

What was your first lead role?

JV: Well, you start with a lot of comprimario roles, an aria here or there; but my first ‘lead’ was when I did The Magic Flute. When I was 30 I did Falstaff.

That’s quite young for Falstaff!

JV: Yes, it was very young, and it was frightening actually. But I was starting to learn what I was doing. Recently “Stage Magazine” said, “Jonathan Veira is the best in the UK at doing these roles”, so now, at 55, I think it’s time to retire, while I’m still the best!

The Guardian review of you in La Cenerentola described it as, “High Camp, irony, and huge fun”; it sounds like a cross between Rossini and Monty Python!

JV: In my operas I want people to laugh out loud. I don’t care about sensibilities, I’m not posh, I’m quite earthy, I suppose, and I like people to laugh at stuff that’s funny.

And you like playing villains too!

JV: Yeah – I do! Goodies can be fairly one-dimensional.  Baddies are usually the parts which are etched by the writers more carefully. The goodies are well… good aren’t they?! They say the right things, do the right things, like Cinderella.

The Marriage of Figaro, is a dark comedy; all about what was called the Droit du seigneur, which means the right of Counts to have the virgins of the village. But then what follows is redemption because the bad person turns good; so there’s somewhere for you to go with a villain.  Don Giovanni, though, gets his comeuppance, because he doesn’t repent. So I do like playing villains! I don’t celebrate how bad they are, but you have to be bad in order to make sure that the good comes out.

Some interpreters see Christ allusions in Billy Budd and you played the mutinous Claggert in there, to set the story up!

JV: Yes – exactly right, Claggert was one of those who was almost totally evil, but yet there’s one moment where he delivers: I want to love but I can’t ! He teeters on the edge, which is very interesting to play. Finally Billy dies almost sacrificially, a sacrifice is made so that that goodness can be seen. I mean what else is there?

Music is an extraordinary gift of God to humanity

JV: Well, if it’s not, …. I don’t know what is!!

I think we are creative people made in the image of a creator God

JV: I think so. “The man who hath not music in his soul, is fit for treason, stratagems and spoils!”, that’s Shakespeare, but the great poet O’Shaugnessy says “we are the music makers”, those who create order from chaos. Music puts order into a chaotic world. I intervene and I create the sound, the rhythm, the tone, the beauty. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something spiritual, something transcendent that happens when I sing. Now, I have been given that gift, and I haven’t been given any others, I can’t do anything else, I’m useless!

But along with the gift, there is a lot of discipline in your art; how long does it take you to learn a part?

JV: It took me initially six months to learn a role. I’m partially dyslexic, so I do it over and over again.

To be the best at something they say you have to invest about 10,000 hours. I’ve done my 10,000 hours, so now I know the process of learning. But some of these roles take me months to learn. Some of them in Czech are very difficult.

You are actually called to be professional, with a big work ethic. I think there is something about being Christian in the way that you work; where you honour the people who come to hear you. I was quite ill recently, and I had to go on and do a show, which I got through with God’s help. People said to me, “Why didn’t you just cancel?” But I have a responsibility to my audience.

How many languages have you performed in?

JV: Eight! In whatever the opera is written in, be it Russian, French, German, Italian, Swedish, and a lot of Czech.

Is it hard to deliver jokes, in a language that isn’t your own?

JV: Yes – but you’ve got your body as well, not just your voice. You have your face, your hands, your body position. It does mean that you have to work harder than if you are singing in English. I would say that I didn’t really know what I was doing until about 1990. You only really start learning when you perform in front of people who have paid two-hundred pounds a ticket, where you either sink or swim, because opera is a ruthless world!

If you could choose one performance from those thirty-two years, as the one you are most proud of, which would it be?

JV: I remember doing Falstaff in Denmark at the Verdi Festival. Danish audiences don’t applaud a lot, and they certainly don’t give standing ovations. At the end of the first night, fifteen-hundred people all stood to their feet! I wept, I really did – I wept. There are times like that…

Then there are times when I perform with my sons. They are great musicians on their own, but if you ask me for a great or favourite moment, it’s when we come together!

Then, when I did Mozart’s The Magic Flute with the famous conductor Jane Glover. It was a huge performance for me, and I came on for my bow to three-thousand people giving a standing ovation. I looked behind me because I thought someone else had walked on!!

But there are two sides to every story. After the applause in Denmark, everyone came back to the dressing room, saying, “oh how marvellous, blah blah blah”, but then I went out of the stage door into the cold. It was snowing, and I went back to my hotel. As I walked out into the street, nobody knew who I was, nobody knew what I’d just done, there was an emptiness…. I thought of people without faith; what do they do? Obviously they will drink, they will take drugs and have affairs, doing what they need to do to fill that void, because applause is a drug. So when you get back in the hotel, and there’s nobody to give you adulation, it brings you right down to the brass tacks of who you are, and how you want to live and what is it that motivates you.

And which came first, Christian faith or professional singing?

JV: Oh, faith. I was brought-up in the Christian Brethren and I came to faith quite early, but I didn’t really know what it was until I went to university.

So what is at the centre of the faith you developed at University?

JV: The person of Jesus! People can get bogged down in church ‘stuff’.  But what we must look at first is the character and person of Jesus and if we don’t do that, if we don’t understand who he is; everything else pales into insignificance. When Jesus isn’t central, what becomes central is ‘my place in the church’, which doesn’t actually matter! So, I’m a Christian today, not just for Sunday, not just when I do my shows, but when you catch me now. Here’s who I am, this is me; and that is both a weakness and a strength.

You’ve never hidden your faith in the opera world though.

JV: No

How have people responded?

JV: Some people are antagonistic and want an argument! I don’t present myself as some kind of virtuous perfect guy, I just turn up and start working. I sometimes lose my temper, like everyone else does; but it’s how I then go and apologise that contextualises my faith. I don’t take my Bible to work and preach at people; but people do want to talk to me. Someone recently came to me asking “What do you think about faith? Is it difficult to be a Christian?” and I said to him, “Yes it is.” But it’s no more difficult to be a Christian singer than a Christian banker or anything else. You take in your core values, and your faith. You walk in with Jesus and you walk out with him.

Christians are deliberately very misunderstood, by an atheistic media who want to decry faith. But rather than shout and scream about that I just say, “well this is me; you can criticise me as much as you like. I’m doing my job, I’m doing it well”.

How do people respond when you talk about your faith in Jesus in your one-man show?

JV:  We’ve always wanted my shows to be a place where people could bring their non-church friends where they wouldn’t be embarrassed or made to cringe. I just talk about my faith and share it in song. And I have lots of responses, from total elation to utter disgust; from “how could you mention your faith; what’s that got to do with anything!”; to “I can’t believe you’ve made me think about faith, and now I’ve become a Christian!”

And you sing songs like, “I want Jesus to walk with me”

JV: Yeah by Eric Bibb! It’s one of the most wonderful songs. I often close my shows with that song, followed by “How Great Thou Art”.

What’s your next musical project?

JV: At the moment I have backed away from opera, I’m still doing it, but when I choose to. I’m now touring my one-man show “Song and Tales”.

Do you have any musical ambitions left?

JV: There’s one I would love to do… Sweeny Todd! I played the judge in Sweeny Todd, at Covent Garden with the legendary Stephen Sondheim. Todd is the arch-baddie; but one who’s been wronged. And there is also redemption for him, somewhere in there! I would fancy that.

What about personal ambitions?

JV: I did want to play cricket for England but that ship has sailed I’m afraid. Offstage, I always want to be a better person because ultimately, “singing is more than a job, but it’s less than a life!”

So what makes a complete life?

JV: I think having God in your life gives you context. It settles you where you are, tells you where you are in the universe: that you’re not the centre of it, but that GOD is, and He loves you.

__________________________

http://www.jonathanveira.com/

This was first published in SOLAS Magazine, reproduced with permission.

Around Saddleworth

Book Notes: The People's Songs by Stuart Maconie

Stuart Maconie's books are always lively, fun, informative and entertaining. He's previously written about the North, the South, history and about his youthful exploits, and after some recent 'heavy' reads, I was in the mood for some entertainment. Maconie is remarkably well-read, often insightful and always eloquent, and when writing about British culture and music, very much on home turf. This book, "The People's Songs" is a postwar history of Britain, told through fifty songs. Apart from one glaring omission, that I'll come to in a moment, is a rip-roaring tour of two-generations of history and culture, as refracted through the prism of popular music.

It's all here; from the comedy records of the 1950s (Ying-Tong-iddle-i-Po!), though the birth of skiffle and rock and roll, through the blues boom of the sixties. Changing attitudes (J'Taime), changing fashions (The Beatles), the rise of the 'teenager', Mods and Rockers. Feminism, The Irish Troubles, multiculturalism, and the rise of gay-rights from Brian Epstein to Bronski Beat's 'Smalltown Boy', are summarised; along with the political, musical and economic backdrop against which these songs were made. From psychedelia, to prog-rock, to punk, to heavy-metal, so ska, and indie, and manufactured boy-bands; via talent-shows and muddy-festivals; the shape of post-war British music is rather neatly mapped out. Maconie seems to have an appreciation for a vast array of different musical styles; there are not many aficionados who are as at home appreciating Paul McCartney and George Formby as they are first Judas Priest and then Morrisey via Rick wWakeman! That is nothing of not a diverse set of appreciations. 

The chapters on Thatcherism, seem through the lens of The Specials "Ghost Town" is particularly strong, and Maconie does not write as a pundit seeking objective distance from his subject, but rails against the devastation to manufacturing industry which occurred in the 1980s. The for-and-against stuff on Live Aid/Band-Aid is fascinating too.

There's something fascinating about reading analysis of music and times that one has lived through. I am ashamed to admit that I went through a punk phase. It was 1977, I was six years old and one of my neighbours had a much older sister who was a fully uniformed punk, with plenty of vinyl albums from the Sex Pistols and others. Playing these seemed very grown up and impressive; and even better lots of them were presented in red, green or multi-coloured vinyl; whilst all my Dads classical LPs were boringly black! Obviously I had no idea at the time what the culture, either politically or musically was; but these days I'm, far more likely to be found listening to something in an unfathomable time-signature, of the kind that punk was supposed to have discredited! 

Like his others, Maconie's book is fast-paced, easy-reading, that engages, informs and provokes much thought. The problem is that there is a huge and gaping anomaly in the book which needs to be mentioned. When he says "the people's songs"; who are the people he is talking about? I couldn't help but think that the 'people' he had in mind were mostly people rather like him; left-of-centre 'progressives', with a strong agenda for gay-rights and multi-culturalism; and a deep suspicion of a perception of the establishment. My point is not that these are not important parts of life and music in postwar Britain; and should be overlooked.. far from it. Any compendium on music and culture that didn't look at these things would be woefully deficient.  Rather, it is that there is little coverage of people who don't slot into this right-on agenda; are these not "people"?

In particular the massive role of Christianity in British music and culture is systematically excluded from the account. It's not that Christians don't appear in the pages; it is simply that they are without fail anti-entertainment Puritans, weirdos, or eccentrically dressed Bishops. While the burgeoning interest in Eastern religions is covered (George Harrison); oddly, the Christian canvas on which these developments were painted is excluded. My complaint here is not that I am an offended Christian, pleading victim status and turning into a latter-day "Mr Angry from Purley". (Do you remember him, he used to get so angry he would throw the phone down, every afternoon on Radio One in the 1980s?). Rather, it is that I am annoyed historian, who thinks that this is just bad history. Read, for example Calum Brown on secularisation, to see the extent to which Christian thought and discourse was the norm for most Britains until well into the era Maconie discusses. Or read Nick Spencer on the Christian foundations of British law, language, politics, culture, justice system etc. While today the established churches are at a low ebb, perhaps it is hard for us to imagine the extent of participation and influence they had well into the 1970s. I'm willing to bet that the number of people who embraced TM, or were in the gay clubs of the 80s, or who participated in the national passtime of attending music festivals; pales into insignificance compared to the volume of people whose culture and music was informed by Christianity. The coverage last week of the death of the US preacher Billy Graham was startling; in terms of the incredible numbers of people who queued to hear him in London and Glasgow especially. Yet the thought that a chapter entitled "Just as I Am", about the 1950s faith culture, might be included is ridiculous. These are the "peoples songs", but not the songs of all the people.

I was a little perplexed as to why Christianity has been so completely airbrushed from history by Maconie. I read somewhere that he had been brought up in Catholicism, but has rejected it. Perhaps that has something to do with it. That's hardly the point though; I do not expect every author I read to agree with Christianity - in fact I read a huge amount from those who specifically reject it. What I do think should happen though, is fair-minded and reasonable representation of what we know to be true. The irony of course is that the outsiders and minorities who he champions throughout the book, are now the elites, who control the media. and it's those with the old-fashioned views who need brave voices to welcome them into mainstream culture. I can't believe that Maconie is ignorant of all this. we do live in an age which is extraordinarily ignorant of history in general and Christianity in particular; but he seems far too well read, and erudite for this to be simply that. Is it actually just good old-fashioned prejudice, directed at the new easy-target? I don't know.

It was while pondering these things that I stumbled across J. John's letter to the BBC. It said amongst other things that:

In terms of omission, we find that the role of Christianity in the life of an individual or in history is, all too frequently, conveniently overlooked. Although, as I mentioned, I do not keep records of specifics, let me cite two instances. One is the BBC’s treatment of the limbless Nick Vujicic, a remarkable man who Wikipedia describes in its first line as ‘a Serbian-Australian Christian evangelist and motivational speaker born with tetra-amelia syndrome . . .’ Mysteriously on the BBC website – http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20150318-leading-without-limbs– all reference to his Christian faith has been removed. Another instance is the omission of Usain Bolt’s firm Christian faith in a lengthy biographical treatment of him at http://www.bbc.com/sport/olympics/37078358. Is this wilful bias or simply a lack of courage and truth to name what motivates these individuals? These are not unique cases. I’ve come across references to organisations and individuals that I know to be Christian where this most fundamental element in their existence is quite simply overlooked.More subtly, in historical programmes there is all too frequently the airbrushing out of Christianity. Possibly in an effort to make situations and individuals more accessible and sympathetic to the modern mind, the role of church and faith in determining both the culture and the actions of individuals is downplayed. The church, the Bible and Christian ethics almost always seem to have mysteriously gone missing, Photoshopped out of history. It does not have to be so. A positive example here is Series 2 Episode 6, ‘Vergangenheit’, of Netflix’s The Crown which shows Queen Elizabeth II grappling with issues of faith and forgiveness and has a sympathetic portrayal of Billy Graham preaching. Many who have watched it have said that this was precisely the sort of thing that the BBC dare not now produce. For the best part of 2,000 years the Christian faith in some form or other has governed how the people of the United Kingdom thought, spoke and acted. Men and women attended church, said prayers, uttered grace before meals and, whether they followed the tenets of the church or not, they at least considered them. To reject that role for Christianity is to deny history.

It was after I read this, that I noticed that Maconies book says, "As heard on Radio2" on it. John certainly seems to have a point, in this case at least.

It was the only thing which spoilt my enjoyment of this otherwise charming, incisive, witty and well-researched book. From Vera Lynn to Slade, these fifty songs cover an enormous amount of history, times and places, with a deftness of touch which is admirable. I couldn't put this book down, I didn't quite read it in one sitting, but its only taken a few days to steam through its 400+ pages. Despite my ranting reservation above, Maconie is a delight to read, as he effortlessly guides the reader from The Kinks, to Bowie, to Black Sabbath, to New Romantics, and Acid House, and Grime; as he leads a grand tour from postwar austerity, through the decades of transformation, the conflict of the 70s, into Thatcherism and beyond. 

I've been digging out some of the music from the different eras he had described, and playing it to my kids; just as my Dad once played The Goons to me! This morning I treated them to The Specials, "Ghost Town". I'm pleased to report that they were suitably impressed. When I was ten, my best mate's older brother sought to broaden our musical horizons with such things. Simon - you're efforts were not entirely in vain!

Book Notes: Blues People by LeRoi Jones

Amiri Baraka published "Blues People" in the early 1960s when he was still known as LeRoi Jones. It is a complex book in which he seeks to interpret the course of African American music, in the light of the socio-economic and racial history from which it emerged. 

Obviously the story begins with the enslavement of Africans and their transfer to America for their forced labour; the naked greed of which was smuggled under the ideological pretence that they were less-than-human and not deserving of rights. Baraka argues though that slavery was not unique to America, and had in fact been practised in Africa, and in many previous empires. American slavery was though, uniquely savage though because it involved de-humanising treatment in the context of complete cultural alienation and white cultural hegemony. There are some interesting links between this thesis and some other things I have read recently. 

In his work on Christian apologetics, Tim Keller addresses the critique that the Bible is too tolerant of slavery by pointing out that what most people imagine slavery to mean is African-American plantation slavery, rather than the debtors work-house style arrangement of Roman and Greek times. He argues that the uniquely horrific situation of African American plantation slavery is not discussed in the Bible, and that as such such attacks are misguided. Baraka, demonstrates very forcibly why this is a reasonable view. Likewise, Mark Noll in addressing the same question argues that critics of the Bible's response to slavery fail to consider that the Bible is resolutely anti-racist; and that the central problem in American history was racism, more than slavery. Baraka's early chapters resonate interestingly with such thinking because it was the specific ripping of people from their culture and crushing them beneath another which was the actual horror, he writes.

"There remains some condition of communication on strictly human terms between Babylonian and Israelite or Assyrian and Chaldean that allows finally for acceptance of the slave-caste as merely an economically oppressed group. To the Romans slaves were merely vulgar and conquered people who had not the rights of Roman citizenship. The Greeks thought of their slaves as unfortunate people who had failed to cultivate their minds and wills, and were this reduced to that lowly but necessary state. But these slaves were still human beings. However, the African who was unfortunate enough to find himself on some fast clipper ship to the New World was not even accorded membership in the human race" (p2)

From this starting point Baraka explores the de-Africanisation of what he calls the American Negro (terminology that was uncontroversial in the 1950s and 60s, and used by all sections of the Civil Rights Movement, from SLCC integrationists, to SNCC radicals), specifically with reference to the culture and music that was made as African culture interacted with the dominant European one. "Only religion (and magic) and the arts were not completely submerged by Euro-American concepts", he writes (p16). 

What follows is a very complex exploration of a wealth of musical and cultural trends, to which the author offers explanatory notes as to its origins and influence; from his interpretation of racial history. He notes the western derision at African culture in the 1920, while The Charleston (a poor-man's West African Ashanti dance) was all the rage; for example (p17). He looks at jazz, work-songs, blues, and the troublesome nature of the hugely popular minstrel shows; which while embarrassingly patronising, also grew in tandem with white abolitionism; as the humanity of the slaves became harder and harder for their oppressors to deny. The cultural cross-currents between African and European culture, through church and music are fascinating - and hugely complicated, Baraka writes; "ragtime developed from the paradox of minstrelsy, insofar as it was a music the Negro came to in imitating white imitations of Negro music." (p90). Classic blues of the inter-war years is described, when commercial models of music distribution and recording came to the fore and produced stars like Bessie Smith. One remarkable observation is that the collapse of Reconstruction in the South led to a new fusion of European and African music. Baraka says that the higher-caste of lighter skinned Negroes had sought to distance themselves from  their darker neighbours, and sought integration into the dominant culture. Expelled from such integration by the stricter racial Jim Crow codes, they took this culture back into the 'Negro' sections of town, where new cross-currents emerged. Chapter nine develops such thinking further with a detailed examination of the Black Middle Class, which he repeatedly castigates for its un-Africanness and cultural dispersal into a form of European-isation which he clearly sees as dull, formal, uncreative and weak. Boogie-Woogie, Stride, Big Band, Swing, and 1960s blues, all get this sort of fascinating appraisal.

"John Lewis [of the Modern Jazz Quartet] attempts to "combine" classical music and jazz have more often than not been frightening examples of what the final dilution of Afro-American musical tradition might be" (p229)!

Blues People is a fascinating book, but I have to say it is very hard work. I have read a lot of American History, and music and cultural history; but found this exceptionally hard going, despite how interesting it was. Baraka writes with a dense, obfuscating style which sometimes hides rather elegant thought behind a tangle of knotted clauses. The book is also loaded with knowing references which are meaningless to the uninitiated. Some of the people, and things he cites are still common currency, and his arguments make sense; but over half a century later, many of the things he assumes the reader will know have dropped from view. Likewise there is a dearth of references for some of his startling historical assertions, especially in the first quarter of the book; which made exploring any of those further impossible.

Despite those reservations, this is a really interesting book. It is one of those historical books which is itself now a historical artefact. In 1963 when this book was published, LeRoi Jones (as he was then known), was a Black public intellectual, helping shape the emerging Black Consciousness, as Civil Rights moved towards Black Power. That this was published in 1963, is as important, as what he writes about 1923, 1903, and 1863.

Album Review: Static in the Wires by Martin Harley and Daniel Kimbro

Static in the Wires, is the new studio album from slide guitar legend Martin Harley and double bass player Daniel Kimbro. It is a collection of finely crafted songs in which Harley's intricate guitar lines fuse his gritty vocals to Kimbro's booming melodic bass lines, creating something of real beauty. These fine performances of eleven new Harley compositions, are a treat for acoustic, blues and roots fans, which deserves to be widely heard.

Harley has always been at home in the Blues genre, and is probably most recognisable with a slide on a Weissenborn guitar, slung horizontally across his lap. This instrument is the ideal vehicle for Harley's remarkably expressive and emotive playing. The Blues tracks on Static in the Wires, such as One Horse Town, Feet Don't Fail Me Now, Trouble, This Little Bird, Mean Old City (2), are not the cliched endless 12-bar shuffles that fill some albums - but demonstrate a fine array of arrangements and styles. The addition of some rolling bluesy piano songs like One Horse Town, are something of a new departure for Harley and Kimbro, which work very nicely indeed. Feet Don't Fail Me Now starts a little like Somebody on Your Bond, but almost immediately veers into a slide guitar groove which has more than a little of the great Leo Kottke about some of its flourishes. Electric and then acoustic slide solos then complete this sure-fire contender for their new live set. My Lover's Arms, is a slow, bluesy country ballad, that is just brimming with that early Ray Charles feel, but with guitars rather than piano to the fore - and that is high praise indeed. Meanwhile on Trouble, (another one which I want to hear live), the wry blues lament of the lyrics is brought to life by some glorious Hawaiian sounding Weissenborn slide from Harley, and some deep, mournful bowed double-bass from Kimbro, culminating in a magnificent solo from the bass-man. The piano joins in again on This Little Bird, in a jaunty groove not unlike Nicky Hopkins' contributions to Gary Moore's Still Got The Blues sessions.

However there is more to Static in the Wires than Blues. There are also wistful ballads like Postcard from Hamburg, on which intricate guitar picking and neat harmonies relate the longing for home that is the life of the travelling musician. Sweet and Low, is a gentle acoustic ballad which harks back to Harley's Grow Your Own era. Dancing on the Rocks, is a different matter altogether, a gorgeous complexity of engaging lyrics, primed with longing and wistfulness, layered with great harmonies and guitar work which in places has echoes of John Martyn. I Need a Friend follows on in this vein, with intricately picked folky guitar work, over Kimbro's bass lines on a song that wouldn't have been out of place on Harley's Money Don't Matter album. The song Gold, however takes Harley into completely new sonic territory. This massively spaced out song, is luscious in it's dreamy world-weariness. The muffled drums add a dazed, smoky feel to the proceedings, while the electric guitar solo is sparse and beautiful. Wasn't it Miles Davis who commented that it's often as much about what you don't play as what you do? That precisely what this solo does - in a kind of Paul Kossof way, soaring above Gold's hazy backdrop.

Finally the album comes to a close with Mean Old City (Part 2). I'm not sure if part one exists anywhere, but part two is great ending to a splendid album. The hypnotic beat, driven by Kimbro's bass, provides a structure for Harley to let rip on the vocals, "I gotta go where I can be free!", and then improvises gloriously on the Weissenborn in a long, intense, brooding crescendo of a solo, which is captivating. If they don't play this live in their forthcoming tour together, I will be very disappointed!

Harley and Kimbro have gigged together many times, but this is their first album of new songs, recorded in studio conditions. Their only other joint-album, was really a live-in-the-studio set in which they re-worked a list of Harley favourites. It is for me, so far, the release of 2017 - and I'm looking forward to seeing them live on their forthcoming UK tour.

An Evening of Blues with The Simon Kennedy Band & Lins Honeyman & Band

The Souter Theatre in Perth's AK Bell Library played host to a blues extravaganza on Saturday night, courtesy of two local bands, The Simon Kennedy Band, and Lins Honeyman & Band. As Blues Bands go, they couldn't be more different, but between them they put on a fine evening's entertainment.

Lins Honeyman's band got things underway with a set of predominantly acoustic blues  (they have an electric guitar on several songs), featuring a mixture of Blues, Rock n Roll classics, and Honeyman's own compositions. Honeyman is a well known figure in the Perth music scene, having been gigging for many years in the company of an evolving line up of musicians. The current band: Honeyman: vox, guitars, harmonica, mandolin; Andrew McCully: lead guitar, double bass; Les Dalziel: keys, double bass, electric bass; Jon Assheton: drums, percussion, cahon, and Peter Oates: violin; has remained largely unchanged for a while now (Oates being the sole recent addition). Over time they have increasingly gelled as a unit and were on good form on Saturday night, presenting the bluesy-est set list they have performed in a while. Having heard this band range across a whole range of musical styles, I have always rated their blues-based performances as the pick of their output. Whether that is a fair assessment of their work, or simply a reflection of the fact that I love the blues, is hard to objectively judge!

Lins did a solo spot mid-show, which was well-received, and included a Shakespeare-inspired audience-participation singalong. It sounds improbable, but it worked! Other highlights included a bit of Blind Willie Johnson, some Chuck Berry, and a cheeky bit of blues comedy in the form of Keep Talkin', a humorous blues with a lyric that would bring a knowing smile to the likes of Champion Jack Dupree, who was apparently similarly afflicted! Two Feet Mama is another slightly tongue in cheek blues song which Lins wrote when he was quite young, but which has made a recent return to his live performances; alongside an idiosyncratic take on a certain Jungle Book number at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum to the soul searching song 'Sertraline'. The first half finale from Lins and Co, was 'Stranger Blues', which has been part of their set for some years. It has sometimes featured Les Dalziel and Lins himself, on Hammond organ solos, but with Les occupied on double-bass duties, and Lins wielding the harmonica, they were joined onstage by Mirek Hodun from the Simon Kennedy Band, who added a unique flourish to proceedings. Yesterday night, I was at one of my kids school parent's evening. One of the teachers, who had also been at the gig said to me, "I just love Lins' band... they just get better and better!"

As they combined solid musicianship, with a unique and eclectic set-list, delivered with Honeyman's trademark wit and whimsy, in a rootsy acoustic blues package, it's hard to disagree with his assessment.

After the interval, Simon Kennedy led his band onto the stage. Once a four piece band, the new SKB lineup features the eye-wateringly good drummer Brian Macleod and keyboard maestro Mirek Hodun,

who's left hand has replaced the bassist! While the first half featured lots of chat, humour, and acoustic vibes; the SKB were a complete contrast; from the outset they were full of highly charged, very loud, high-energy, funky electric blues. Led by Simon Kennedy's technically stunning, melodic guitar lines, trading licks with Mirek's very funky Hammond, built upon the foundation of Macleod's scintillating grooves; they kicked off with a Freddy King instrumental which set the tone for the second half of the evening brilliantly. Mixing blues covers, like Cannonball, and the El Media Stomp with Kennedy's own writing they showed why they are a real force to be reckoned with in the contemporary blues scene; and why they have gained national radio airplay.

Kennedy's own writing is mostly up-beat, intense, and earnest; but his lyrics are uncommonly thought-provoking and profound. If you are a fan of the the endless cliche's which fill the charts, then Kennedy's lyrics are not for you. His songs, do not feature any of the usual hackneyed phrases which rhyme such banalities as "sitting at home" with "all alone" and "waiting for the phone". Rather, he probes the human condition, and its' many sided complexities - drawing deeply on his Christian faith for answers to the many questions he airs. All this in upbeat driving, funky blues on tracks such as "Show them it's True".

The SKB then delivered a staggering version of the soul song, "The Letter", popularised (though not written by) Joe Cocker. Beginning with an eerie guitar introduction which weaved a chunk of "Stairway" into it, the band later morphed into a blast of 'Smoke On The Water"! In between that they belted out a stonking version of the song itself interspersed with an amazingly entertaining drum solo from Macleod, and a organ-solo, singalong from Hodun.

The night came to a glorious conclusion when all the musicians crowded onto the small stage for a big blues jam, under Kennedy's direction. Everyone who had taken part (with the exception of Jon Assheton - as there were two drummers, but only one kit!) traded solos and brought the evening to a rip roaring conclusion. 

I had the privilege of being asked to take some photos of the gig, which was hugely enjoyable. One day I'll own a professional standard camera which can operate at high ISOs without producing this much 'noise'.

Book Notes: Autobiography, Eric Clapton

When I turned the final page of Eric Clapton's autobiography, my immediate thought was, "how on earth is this man still alive?" The fact that in 2017 he is returning to London's Royal Albert Hall for a series of gigs with his band, seems almost miraculous when one reads about how much of the 1960s he spent stoned, how much of the 1970s he lost to heroin addiction and how much of the 1980s to a serious alcohol problem. When you add to that the chaos of his relationships with wives and a staggering array of women, his survival is extraordinary.

 

The tone of the book is unusual, in that it is predominantly a confessional. Autobiographies of notable people, are usually replete with intricate details of their achievements. Politicians like to recount their key moments brokering deals, or bringing parties to the negotiating table, sportsmen like to dissect their greatest moments, with lessons for the reader on technique, training and tactics. There are no guitar lessons in Clapton's autobiography however, no speculations about the roots of, of enduring appeal of the blues, or explanations as to what he feels has enabled him to reach the heights of his profession and remain there for a half a century. Rather, we discover that he was massively screwed up as a kid, when he discovered that his 'parents' were actually his biological grandparents - and had to face maternal rejection. He found solace first in music generally, then in blues guitar. Then he says that he was lost in drugs and alcohol for so much of his life that he basically didn't ever mature beyond being a young teenager; despite having access to all manner of adult pleasures and pastimes. When looking back at the way he treated his first wife, he says things such as, "my moral health was appalling". He also documents several of his failures and misjudgements with the women and relationships in his life (as well as simply missing out several others who inexplicably do not get a mention in his tale). He spares the reader few insights into how badly he treated and used the women who came and went from his life, his drug binges and his bed. Perhaps this is carthartic writing; perhaps seeking some form of public absolution. Intriguingly, aside from his childhood issues and lack of sobriety he offers almost no explanation, or intended justification, for some of his shoddy behaviour.

The basic facts of his musical life are in there, John Mayall, Graham Bond, Cream, Blind Faith, and all his solo work. All the albums, and his collaborators are mentioned, as well as what was going on musically at the time, be it blues, raggae, folk, rock, or pop. However, for obvious reasons many of these are rather vague in their recollection of detail; as the main story is all about the state that Clapton found himself in at the time, and his tempestuous relationships. If you open this book hoping to find the definitive story of the Baker/Bruce feud that broke Cream, then you will be disappointed and left with little more than the acknowledgement that they didn't always get on (who knew?!)! 

 

The relationship between musical creativity and chemical intoxication is a curious one. The Beatles recorded some of their very best and absolute worst music when heavily drugged (personally I refer the more colourful LSD fuelled Pepper material to the heavier drugs which seem to undergird the White Album). Reading Clapton's autobiography, I was interested to note that the music of his which I admire most has been that in his most sober and controlled periods. While there were certainly plenty of chemicals flowing in the 1960s, behind much of the music of Cream through to Derek and the Dominoes, he wasn't out of control in that most productive era. However, I didn't really like a lot of what he did from then until the Journeyman/Unplugged era - which is when he finally completely sobered up. In terms of his own playing and musicianship, he freely admits it suffered badly during his periods of heavy addictions.

 

One of the tragedies of the book is that Clapton got to know the great Muddy Waters, but was unable to really develop the musical or personal relationship as it coincided with his heavy drinking days. The other is the awful story of the death of Clapton's four year old son Conor, the effect that the loss had on him, and how he dealt with it. This is painful and difficult reading, and Clapton is very open about this devastating part of his life.

 

Like great musical biopics of recent years, like "Ray" or "Walk the Line", the great plot of this book is about the fact that the central character doesn't end up dead like one of his girlfriends, a Jimi Hendrix, a Janis Joplin or a Phil Lynott; but conquers his addictions - and emerges from the rubble with a coherent and decent life. In fact, the final chapters of this book are all about Clapton's last two decades of sobriety, which have enabled him to build a happy marriage with his second wife and their three daughters. He also details the way in which he has been able to invest so much of his time and fortune in his Crossroads Addiction Recovery Centre.

One of the intriguing things about Clapton's tale of escape from alcoholism was of his encounter with the 'higher power' known to all aficionados of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). He talks rather candidly about his scepticism about organised religion and its doctrinal systems; yet, about reaching a point of 'surrender' before God as being a critical step in his recovery. He also suggests that his previous attempts to reform himself failed as he didn't ever reach that point. This is actually an essential element of the book as without this, it would end as an overdose of smugness; self-rescue and self-promotion. With it, it seems that hitting rock-bottom, he was lifted up by a hidden benevolent power. The book then ends positively, with a sober man, with a content family life, still playing the music he loves. There is an enduring note of sadness in it all however; a trail of debris from the damaged relationships, painful splits and some who never made it alive through the drug-fuelled frenzy. Also, somewhat skirted around is Clapton's ill advised anti-immigration outburst in the mid-70s that sounded racist, from a man who spent his time hanging out with BB King, Muddy Waters and playing Black people's music. Perhaps the confession about dreadful state he was in at the time is the best explanation for that sorry episode that we are likely to get.

Clapton's autobiography is a fascinating, if not at times, a rather bleak read. It does provide an intriguing insight into the guitar man behind such enduring classics as Steppin' Out, Layla, White Room, Sunshine of Your Love, and being the prime contemporary exponent of such blues standards as Crossroads, or Born Under a Bad Sign.