It's York, December 2022. Our Jorvik pub crawl has not long begun. ''Look out for the purple door with the fox knocker,'' I said to our friends as we were seeking out a hostelry I remembered going in a couple of years ago; though I couldn't recollect the name of it I knew it was down a narrow alleyway and just before it, on the right hand side, was a heavily glossed bright purple door with a fabulous fox knocker on it. (I later went on to use the image on a friend's playlist.)
And so my latest photography craze began. I say began; it was only a few days later whilst I was on my regular lunchtime walk when I espied another fox (I now have a brace) that I realised I would now subconsciously be looking out for these brass bad boys wherever I happen to find myself. In true Shaw Taylor style I'll be keeping 'em peeled.
...
Feel free to contribute any foxy sightings you may stumble upon in your part of the world. I'd like to think they live hidden in plain sight and have been watching us all for sometime now...
Matt Beer is a fellow member of York Songwriters: we're a bunch of ragtag singers and musicians who meet up every month in The Black Swan in York. We each play a new song and talk about it - whilst we drink beer; I fear I may be better at drinking beer than writing songs. Matt, on the other hand, is a fabulous songwriter and has just released his new album 'Coming in to Land'.
What sort of music was playing in your house when you were growing up?
Mostly classical I think - my mother liked Mozart a lot - but when I got older my brother got me into Dylan, Van Morrison, Bowie and Roxy Music and I found people like the Velvet Underground, Talking Heads, Elvis Costello and Ian Dury myself in the late 70s.
For anyone not familiar with your material, describe the kind of songs you write.
I write lyrics first, so that shows a little what my approach is. I like people like Randy Newman and Paul Simon where the lyric is almost the hook in the song - wordy songs like 'You Can Call Me Al' seem so much richer to me than the usual stuff. Although I love pop music and there's nothing wrong with a boy meets girl lyric - I just can't do it myself.
I do try to be accessible - even in the early 80s when I was playing in a band and we were all long overcoats, floppy hair and general doominess I wanted to write cheery tunes.
Be careful how you answer this one - how much of you is in your songs, and when was the last orgy you went to?(!)
Ha! Well my wife was slightly worried about that song! I've never been to an orgy in my life, although there is a little of me in that song still because the title came to me and I thought 'well what would I do after an orgy?' and I thought I would be awkward as hell, which is how I wrote it.
Some songs have more of me in them than others but they all have some made up element in them, even though they might be about things that have happened to me. All but one of these songs I wrote three or four years ago when I'd just written a novel and I thought to myself 'if I can have characters and tell a story in a book then why not in a song?'. So it's sort of me, but an exaggerated me.
'Coming in to Land' sounds like a family affair. Your kids have obviously been influenced by their dad - do you road test new material in front of them first?
I have all three of my children on it and my wife Mel plays sax on one of the tracks. I went into the studio intending to play all of the instruments, but I wanted real drums and I'm a lousy drummer. My eldest Tom on the other hand is a great drummer, event though he taught himself and he's the guitar player and singer in his band Bull. Tom also plays trombone on a couple of tracks and Holly my daughter and Paddy my youngest son do backing vocals - Paddy's voice hadn't broken at the time but it has now so it's a historical record.
I didn't actually encourage them to write songs and be in bands when they were growing up - I spent a lot of my 20s doing it and as a career choice it's a rotten idea, but everyone taught themselves and did it anyway! Which doesn't mean to say that I'm not very proud of them.
I very occasionally play songs to them but not really - I think I played Tom a couple of them, but with all of my kids writing songs it would be horribly competitive if everyone was saying 'listen to me! I've got a new one!' Also when I was in my 20s I used to play songs to anyone and everyone and I got to dread that glazed look people got, so I got out of the habit of playing them to anyone for quite a long time.
Do you have a favourite songwriter, someone whose work inspires you? Is there one song out there you wished you had written?
It's hard to pick one person and at different times of my life different people have inspired me. Right now there's a bloke called Dan Willson who has a band called Withered Hand who is brilliant and I like Steven Adams who was in the Broken Family Band a lot too. Over my life it would have to be Dylan and Lou Reed, Tom Waits, Warren Zevon - there's so many really.
I was just listening to random stuff in the car and 'Something Changed' by Pulp came on - I'd have loved to have written that. What a star Jarvis Cocker is!
Can you see other people singing your songs?
No I don't think so - I'd be delighted if they did though.
What advice would you give to aspiring songwriters?
I think you have to write for yourself - if you like it, that's good enough. If someone else likes it even better. I should share my pet theory that the humble song is the greatest art form of all time. Cinema, photography, painting - they all have a claim to the odd century maybe, but songs have said more to more people than anything and they always will. From Robert Burns to Smokey Robinson a melody will always delight and a lyric will always connect. It's just a matter of how much. I'm not sure where death metal fits into that but I'm sure it does somewhere...
How do you consume music these days? Old school vinyl, CDs, iPod, Spotify?
Like lots of people I've started listening to vinyl again - with the emphasis on listening. I'm not much on hi-fi, but it's much more of a complete experience to hear a piece of music from start to finish the way it was recorded. I would miss my old MP3 player on public transport though - for years I thought you should be engaging with the world and disapproved of shutting yourself off (this is back in the days of tape and Walkmans) but as I got older it seemed a good idea to withdraw from certain environments, like crowded trains! We all probably do it too much though.
Who was the last band or artist you paid to go and see?
Other than family, the wonderful Rozi Plain at The Crescent in York.
Do you share your bag of sweets on long train journeys?
Well I just got diagnosed with type 2 diabetes so my sweet eating days are behind me. I don't think I did when I ate sweets though - too much of a sweet tooth!
Sensible shoes or Converses?
Definitely converses - I've been wearing them all of my life and my feet rebel against anything else. It's a bit embarrassing I suppose, to be in your 50s wearing baseball boots, but not embarrassing enough not to.
Coronation Street or Netflix?
Neither really - I've never watched soaps and I really can't be bothered with all of those endless American TV series that are eight seasons long. The amount of people who've said to me 'oh it gets good half way through season 3' or whatever - that's a hell of an investment of time! Virtually everything I watch and enjoy seems to be on BBC Four nowadays - which is probably the most middle class/middle aged thing anyone has ever said!
My friend Mark and I wandered down to The Station Hotel last night to play a few songs. Apart from my new one, Hey Hey Hey (A Song For You), it was a totally different set to Monday's intimate session at York Songwriters. And, although the two nights were totally different, both audiences were really attentive and respectful. Which was nice.
Set list:
*Hey Hey Hey (A Song For You) * * Chip Off The Old Block * Walk A Mile In These Shoes * Help! * I Won’t Let It Happen Again
* You can't beat a pair of judiciously placed brackets in a song title
It was Race Day and the sun was shining. But it wasn't just race goers who piled off the train in their droves in search of an early doors drink; there were more hen parties in town than you could shake a shitty stick at. How some of them would have made it beyond sundown is a mystery - many would have been early fallers long before teatime. But despite many wearing heels higher than your average house and L plates being the accessory of choice, it looked like most of them would have been worth an each way bet on staying the course.
York Fibbers may only be a tiny northern club on the indie circuit, but on Friday night, opening for Dodgy, it was my Wembley, o2 Arena and Hammersmith Apollo all rolled up into one. My previous five gigs (and the five before that and the five before that) have all been in various pubs and folk clubs playing open mic and singers nights. I usually play sitting down and there's invariably somebody on a nearby stool singing a 62 verse sea shanty with his finger in his ear. And there'll be a raffle in the interval. Sometimes I'm spoiled and a plate of sandwiches comes out; you'd be surprised at 10 o'clock, after four pints of Leeds Best, how well egg and mayo between two slices of bread goes down.
Fibbers, on the other hand, don't do raffles. Or sea shanties. But they do have a rather good sound man and a PA that meant I could probably be heard in Leeds. And though I didn't have a rider I think they're more used to M&Ms than egg and mayo; that said, I doubt Dodgy typed up their requests, strange or otherwise, on 53 typed sheets of A4.
Anyway, armed with nothing more than my guitar I walked on the stage, adjusted my microphone and plugged the guitar in. I was out of the traps. With the spots trained on me like a gun turret searchlight I had no idea where anybody was and could just about make out the bar at the back of the room.
I played a greatest hits set - opening with Camberwick Green and finishing with Leeds1972. It went well. Even though I say so myself. Straight to the bar and a catch up with my glee club before three proper musicians took to the stage: I've been hanging on to Dodgy's coat tails for over 20 years and they just get better and better. I must thank Nigel, Matthew and Andy, again, for having me on the bill. Three nicer fellas you couldn't wish to meet.
I write songs. But I'm only playing at it. I've written about 30. And less than 20 of those are keepers. Yesterday I spent a day in the company of a proper songwriter. Clive Gregson, in his time with Any Trouble, as one half of Gregson and Collister and as a solo performer for many years, has written over 1000. And the great and the good are queuing up to record them: Nanci Griffith, Mary Chapin Carter, Norma Waterson. Even Smokie. So he knows a thing or two about his craft. Starting with a blank piece of paper and turning it into three and half minutes of pop wizardry is what he does for a living.
John, Rowena and Clive
When Ian and Judith Simpson announced that they were opening their beautiful home on the outskirts of York on the Bank Holiday Sunday for a songwriting workshop and house concert by the aforementioned Mr. Gregson, I followed Freddie Laker's advice and booked early.
Now residing in Houston, Texas, when Clive introduced himself it was reassuring to hear that he was not speaking in an adopted mid Atlantic accent. Despite having spent over 20 years in the company of our gun loving North American cousins his Manchester vowels were still intact.
The ten of us in the group chatted a great deal about music and writing, played a couple of our songs and were then paired up to collaborate on a new song. The results were remarkably good and by the time we wrapped up the aftenoon we all emerged with a better idea about which direction to take our writing in. I did, anyway. The song I opened the session with, 'What Are You Waiting For?' had Clive (sitting three feet away) scribbling furiously in his note pad. He suggested I move the capo from the 3rd. fret to the 5th., write a bridge and change the title to 'Don't be Lonely Anymore'. It's called finessing, apparently. I think he liked it though.
I like his new song too. He played 'My Kind of Girl' in the first half of his concert. Here's the ubiquitous pop video to promote it - featuring Gregson fans all over the world doing a stunning job of miming to the record. When his film maker friend in LA told him what he intended doing Clive told him he was bonkers. 'That won't fly'. But he was wrong. It flies remarkably well.
Clive is getting his old band, Any Trouble, back together in December. For one week only Any Trouble are playing selected dates in the UK. Check Clive's website for details.
A big thank you to Clive, Ian and Judith for a brilliant day. And Rowena, Ian's sister and my lyricist for the afternoon.
After another busy day at Medd Towers (making tea for tradesmen from 7.30am is taking its toll on me and the kettle) it was time for another walk down to the acoustic night at The Bay Horse. Little bit different this week - we had a guest, harpist Sarah Dean, doing two 20 minute sets either side of half time. It was a well attended night with players and bystanders alike just enjoying making and listening to music. I'd been persuaded to bring my guitar out of hibernation to entertain the troops. Suffice it to say I'd been dusting off my 3 chord trick book all week and reckoned I could go ten rounds with anything from Johnny Cash's back catalogue, maybe even a couple of Dylan's simpler tunes or, hell, just belt out Louie Louie for three minutes and beat everyone into submission. I didn't have to in the end: in the first half I played a fast and furious version of The Young Ones. I think It went down well - we even found an extra verse from somewhere. Prior to my slot we'd been royally entertained with jigs and reels, blues, Trumpet Voluntary on the violin(!) and an a cappella reading of the Quo's In The Army Now (you had to be there).
Then Sarah took to the stage (well, the front of the room) and completely mesmerised us all. Not only a very gifted musician (hailing from York and known on the circuit as The Incredible String Blonde) but she also has a nice line in inter-song banter - the bit a lot of musicians often get wrong.
She opened with this:
She played a couple more before a well earned beer refill, sandwich and the ubiquitous raffle. We managed to snaffle a nice bottle of red.
My second 'number' was something I've been wanting to do for a while. I left the guitar in its case for this one. I read Hovis Presley's I Rely On You. You can't go wrong with a bit of Hovis.
Sarah's second set mixed up more of her own material with a couple of tasteful covers chucked in for good measure: have you ever heard a harp version of Walking On The Moon? Thought not.
They're a good bunch up here and have really made me and Mrs M feel very welcome. Back again in a couple of weeks, hopefully.
