An act of kindness revisited

Most of the time we live our lives in a bubble of self, thinking about what we want to do and how we would like to spend our time, days and money.  Just occasionally something happens to remind you that we are all in this little adventure together, chugging our way through an increasingly fragile existence, down an increasingly narrow channel. And we all could sometimes do with a helping hand. Wind the clock back to the autumn of 1974 when I was living back in Haslingden, Lancashire when I had just lost my mum at a tragically early age. I was feeling lonely and pretty broken-up. At that time I was mating out with a group of friends from Ramsbottom, just down the road. These friends included Alan Fletcher, Bryan Johnson (now sadly gone), Brian French and his girl Angela and Pete Whiteside. Out of the blue they called me to say they wanted to treat me. Now at the time I was on the dole, spending time doing the housework and cooking for my dad. In other words – I was broke. What they did was to buy me a ticket for the what-was-to-become historic first rock concert at Wembley  stadium featuring The Band, Joni Mitchell and Crosby Stills Nash and Young. Not only that, they bought me the return train ticket so I could go down with them. It was a never to be forgotten act of kindness that I’ll always treasure. Winding back to 2013, there are reports that CSNY are preparing to release a live album of that concert in August. See here. If you can’t wait, then here is the entire set from this supercharged set of space cowboys. A flawed, yet glorious happening.

St James Haslingden

Growing up in the Lancashire textile town of Haslingden during the 1950’s going to church was an inescapable aspect of my childhood. Trussed up in my Sunday best I was marched off with sister Valerie to the nearest church to be bored scared witless by a man in a big white frock and purple collar promising eternal damnation or salvation based on your personal behaviour. Now, for a naughty wee lad like moi, this horror show was guaranteed to turn me off established religion for ever and a day. Much rather would I be listening to the cowboy serials on the radio or trying to split an apple with an arrow from my trusty toy crossbow.

A little sand passes through the glass and I’m carrying my guitar case along Blackburn Rd with a Beatles tune in my head. One of the early ones – maybe ‘Ticket to Ride’ or ‘Help’. Thinking about the chords and how to shape them on a cheap gloss white f-hole guitar with an action like pressing hawser wire onto a steel girder, bought from the legendary Mary’s Music in Accrington. Mary’s Music was run by a kindly, knowledgable yet not-to-be-messed with lady. Walking with rhythm guitarist Ian Brown and singer Chris Hardman past the imposing walls that held the churchyard up off the main road to the lead guitarist John Cowpe’s house. Lucky John whose dada had fixed up their mains radio to act as a guitar amplifier, lucky John who owned a Selmer Futurama a guitar that closely resembled the mythical Stratocastor, lucky John who was deeply musical and who could play lead like Hank Marvin. Steven Proctor bashed out the drums with an uncanny sense of timing whilst Ian and I laiked about trying to work out the difference between E7 and E9. It was great. We never played any gigs, but we did carry on for what seems like a couple of years regurgitating the hits of the day by the Beatles, Stones, Yardbirds, Byrds et al, playing from old fashioned sheet music in the days before guitar tablature and internet.

All of this within shouting distance of St James’s church whose churchyard walls were once breached by the floodwaters of a local storm. A landslip ensued leading to the loss of  a few coffins out of the cemetery slipping on to the road.  Someone had the job of sorting out the remnants!
Painting the picture evoked these and other memories, including one of drinking cheap Woodpecker cider in the churchyard before miming to the latest Manfred Mann tune at the end of term school dance, sneaking the bottles into the hall within our guitar cases. Ah – that good old rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle!

Art and Soul

I’ve penned a new song as a tribute to late contemporary artist Dave Pearson, who lived in my childhood town in Lancashire. Dave was a phenomenal painter who left an enormous quantity of work as an enduring legacy to his genius. His estate is managed brilliantly by a trust whose blog here is a good place to go if you want to know more about this neglected modern master. My demo song “Art and Soul” can be heard by pressing the link below. Hope you like it.

Art and Soul

Mrs Duckworth

Mrs Duckworth was my childhood neighbour in Haslingden, Lancashire, during the 1950’s and early sixties. She was a largish woman but I hardly ever heard her speak. She was married to a very large brutish drinker. Mostly I would see her bringing in shopping bags, dragging her feet in a world-weary way. I would sometimes wonder what a colourful interior life she might have. The “stained glass ” setting of this picture resonates with my own life at that time, in a sheltered working-class corner of a rapidly changing England.

A Journey Into The Art

Lizzi and I spent last weekend in Rossendale to join in the celebrations for my lovely uncle Bryan and Auntie Joyce’s diamond wedding anniversary. We also took the opportunity to visit Dave Pearson’s studio in Haslingden, which, following Dave’s death from bladder cancer in 2008, has been run by the Dave Pearson Trust. Dave was an extraordinary man and artist who was completely obsessed by his creative imagination,and, following his death, left more than 20,000 works of art in his humble terraced house studio in Manchester Road. Executor and friend Bob Frith has worked tirelessly with a small group of friends and helpers to rescue Dave’s works from a building that was seriously delapidated and riddled with dry rot, so the property could be reinstated, and reopened as a studio devoted to storing and displaying Dave’s art. His work has now been moved back into it, and put in some degree of order (though not enough order to disturb Dave’s anarchic angels!). It was a absolute privilege to have an opportunity to view some of Dave’s work – and indeed purchase a couple of small pieces to illuminate our living room. Bob also gave us a copy of the new film about Dave’s life made by Derek Smith. It’s a lovely film and a fitting tribute to one of Britain’s greatest artist, though one currently lacking in recognition. A wonderful weekend – and one filled with rainbows of all description. Click here to see some of my photos of the studio.