I love songs that tell stories; granted they tend to be very linear, but I don't have a problem with that. A story told in three minutes, with a couple of verses and a chorus, is brevity writ large. Ron Sexsmith is a master of the art form. Michael and his Dad from Long Player Late Bloomer is the tale of a father and his son coming to terms with the death of their wife & mother whilst at the same time not having a pot to piss in. I often say this about truly great songwriters (and Sexsmith truly is), but if I could write a song half as good as - fill in the gaps - I would die a happy man.
Ron Sexsmith - Michael and his Dad (2011)
Another beautiful story is recanted here by Neil Sedaka on his early 70s Emergence album. A young boy yearns to fly (don't all young boys yearn to fly?) and then many years later, when tucking in his own kids at bedtime, remembers that feeling. Sedaka released it as a single but, alas, it was a flop. There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere.
I'm sure we've all been falling down various rabbit holes as we've tried to seek out live music (or what passes for live music in these crazy times) over the last year. Nigel Clark, Megson, Pete Morton, and Tom Wardle being just a few of the musicians I've been tuning in to as they pull up a stool and play to the red dot on their respective cameras. Hopefully (and I say this very guardedly) as we approach the beginning of a tentative easing of lockdown restrictions, the need for these virtual gigs will begin to give way to the real thing; whatever the real thing will look like in three, six, nine months time.
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Continuing the theme, not only have some musicians been doing these 'live' shows, some have also been busy recording and releasing new material. Even Macca has been having something of a purple patch - he's just scored his first Number One album in donkeys years with his imaginatively titled McCartney 3; fair play, Paul. And here's the thing, it's actually not bad. Not that he needs me to tell him that. The lad's an accomplished songwriter and has fronted a couple of decent bands over the years (file under nothing to prove).
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Someone who doesn't receive even a fraction of the column inches the above mentioned ex-Beatle commands is Canadian singer songwriter Ron Sexsmith. I've been dipping in and out of his career for 25 years now and still find myself marvelling at just how bloody good he is. Ron too has been busy recently; though the new album, Hermitage, was pretty much finished before lockdown, like McCartney, he recorded it at home in his front room and plays most of the instruments on it himself. Here's a preview of what you can expect:
Ron Sexsmith - When Love Pans Out (2020)
As a footnote to today's edition I can't not mention how f**king cold it was yesterday. I bring this up for a couple of reasons; not least that I was reminded of another Ron Sexsmith song whilst walking along the Trent with a biting windchill making it feel like -5 degrees; not since I moved back from North Yorkshire nearly four years ago have my bones felt so cold.
It's hard to imagine that Ron Sexsmith was thinking of calling it a day before the release of Long Player Late Bloomer, his latest album. Whether or not Radio 2 ubiquity will prove to be his artistic lifejacket remains to be seen. All I know is that the current music landscape would be a poorer place without the cherubic Canadian.
Here's a little toe tapper he premiered on BBC 4's Songwriting Circle from Bush Hall in west London. Funnily enough he played the same song on Later a couple of weeks back; I saw him many moons ago when he shared the stage with Jools' playground chums Difford and Tilbrook where he all but upstaged the pair.
Don't reach for the Werther's Originals just yet Ron.
