Till Another Day

My friend Martin Heaton has just released a new album; he very kindly bequeathed me a copy at Songwriters on Monday night, and it's been on constant rotation in the car all week. Despite it being stacked to the rafters with great songs (Martin never short changes his fans - it's got 16 tracks in total), I've got two personal favourites:

Till Another Day mp3

The Letter mp3 

Copies of 'Pillow Talk' are available directly from the artist - you can email Martin at martinheaton@rocketmail.com

Blinded When I Met You

By now the eagled eyed among you will have spotted that I haven't yet compiled a single 'Best Of' list for the year just gone. And nor will I be doing. That said, I've been absolutely staggered this year by the quality and sheer brilliance of new material by my peers at the two Songwriters Circles I frequent. Songs by local writers & performers such as Martin Heaton, David Swann, Matt Beer, Rowena Simpson and Peter Lister would not be out of place in anyone's Top 10, least of all mine.

And a special mention must go to Paul Lewis. I've mentioned on here before that, not only is he the most consistently brilliant writer, but also the most prolific - if York had a Brill Building, Paul would definitely live there. I know I'm not alone when I say I love this song:

Paul Lewis: Blinded When I Met You

You Do Something To Me

I heard recently that Paul Weller has bought a pile just up the road from me; though I've yet to see him at the local supermarket or newsagents buying his twenty Benson. Weller has a reputation for being one of the grumpiest coves in the business, so he should fit in well round here. I ruminated on this blog a while back that we should invite him to one of our acoustic nights. Now that he's one of us there's no excuse why he can't join our local Songwriters Circle. That said, he'd have to come along each month with a song every bit as good as one of these:

* Pretty Green
* English Rose
* That’s Entertainment
* The Bitterest Pill
* Butterfly Collector
* Brand New Start
* Moon On Your Pyjamas
* Wild Wood

And if he could pen something half as good as this, we'd award him God like status in a heartbeat: nothing's so sure.

Paul Weller: You Do Something To Me

I bet you think this song is about you

In the same way that this blog doesn't follow a Dear Diary format, so too my songs aren't really autobiographical. Despite what some people may think. That’s not to say that there aren't lines in some of my songs that have a certain poignancy. And every now and again, away from prying eyes, I may let slip that a certain line was written with a certain someone in mind. Last night’s Songwriters Circle was a particularly good forum: with nothing stronger inside me than English Breakfast Tea, I stayed tight lipped about the brace of, what one (female) friend of mine refers to as ‘confessional’, songs I played.

In a State

Our last Songwriters meeting on Monday was interesting for all sorts of reasons. Not least because one of our brethren rocked up with five new songs he'd written since last month. Five! That's got to be some sort of record; I've barely written five new songs all year. And I wouldn't mind, but they're all good. Mind you, they play his stuff on local radio round here, that's how good they are. There was one in particular that could have come straight off the soundtrack to Garden State - Zach Braff's delightful
2004 film. When he's recorded it I'll post it up here.

In the meantime, and because since Monday night I've been playing Garden State on a loop, here's Colin Hay from said soundtrack. I think it would be fair to say that since setting up our Songwriters Circle we're all aspiring to write songs half as good as this.

Colin Hay: I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

Martin Heaton

I feel honoured that Martin Heaton, award winning songwriter and stalwart of the local acoustic scene, is in the same Songwriters Circle as me. But whereas I may come up with a new song once in a blue moon, Martin, I'm convinced, writes songs in his sleep - such is his amassed output of blinding new material.

So, Martin, what music was in your house when you were growing up?

My dad played the piano a little - mainly Methodist hymns and, although he couldn't sing, he liked to listen to Paul Robeson 78s on the wind up gramophone. Mother was a very good singer and sang all day, every day - mainly traditional Scottish folk songs: my first memories are of me on her knee on the hearth by the fire waiting for the bread to rise as she sang The Skye Boat Song.

What was the first single you bought with your own money?

It had to be and was Bob Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind.

Can you remember your first gig?

At the age of thirteen or fourteen I was going to school youth clubs and every now and then they'd have a dance night: on these occasions one or two likely lads would be allowed to perform. I can remember singing Colours by Donovan - but I didn't get paid! That would come later when I'd sing with Joy, my older sister, at the local folk club.

Nail your colours to the mast - Rock & Roll, or Folk?

I'm a big fan of people like Chuck Berry, Bruce Springsteen, Richard Thompson, so, I guess I'll have to say Folk Rock.

How old would you have been when you first picked up a guitar?

About thirteen and it belonged to my sister's boyfriend. She loved folk music and always had a good guitar player on her arm. In fact, one of them took time out to show me a few chords and even sold me one of his old guitars: it was a 1957 Sovereign which I paid £3 for and still own to this day.

You write from the heart - is there a piece of you in all your songs?

I think a lot of my songs are about personal experiences. Although I try and avoid this, a lot of things that have happened in my life seem to have been quite significant in one way or another: that's when the autobiographical thing creeps in. I am, by nature, a very truthful and honest person, so to write or sing anything other than that would be wrong. So, yes, most of them have me in there somewhere.

What sort of venues do you prefer playing?

A cosy cellar bar with candles on the tables is ideal for me - you get instant feedback from the audience and they're good fun to play. But you can't beat the pure sweat and excitement of a 200+ venue or outdoor festival when you're opening for a big name. More CD sales, too!

Beatles or Stones?

I've never liked The Beatles* - I was brought up on Bob Dylan, Pete Seger and Joan Baez. But the Stones always figured large in my life. More exciting, more rebellious.

Saturday night record?

My Girl by Otis Redding.

Sunday morning record?

Richard Thompson's Tear Stained Letter. The eight minute live version.

Ketchup or Brown Sauce?

Marmite.

Do you share your bag of sweets on a long train journey?

No!

*A big thank you to Martin for taking the time. However, his bold faced admission that he never has and never will like The Beatles meant that this blog post very nearly ended up in the waste paper basket!

My little town

At last night's Songwriters Circle one of our new recruits from outside the region commented on just how many songwriters there are in my little town. And she's got a point.
We then embarked on a sort of flashback episode where we counted all current and past members who have been coming to our group in the last five years or so - and it really is an impressive list. And it's funny how, despite the makeup of the group, we never get the same combination of musicians in any two back to back meetings. I'm hoping to do some Q&As with one or two of them on the blog (with links to their great songs) - so keep an eye out for a new mini-series.

Caution: Don't Play With Fireworks

Rachael FoxEvans has a brand new album out. It's her first; Playground Of Dreams has been a long time in the making: I've heard each and everyone of these songs germinate - from the drawing board to the beautifully performed and produced finished product. Ten self penned acoustic vignettes are laid out before us; drenched in harmonies and some augmented with mandolin, Rachael's voice and guitar bring these delightful songs alive in a way I'm sure even she couldn't have dreamed possible if you'd asked her twelve months ago.

This is my favourite. And a timely reminder too.

Rachael FoxEvans: Don't Play With Fireworks