The Song

I can still remember when I was really young and I joined my first group and I finally got that feeling that I’d been waiting for all my life. After a kind of loner, daydream filled youth, suddenly I was in a band of brothers and the world was there for the taking. That kind of bond is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before or since. Well, you grow up I suppose.
One day, really early on, whilst heading to a rehearsal studio in Berkeley Street, we were caught in a torrential downpour and ended up running in a pack, laughing the whole time, being “chased by the rain like A Hard Day’s Night,” with not even a girl in sight. I remember the feelings of joy and camaraderie. It was Heaven.

The Players

Alex Neilson drums
Bob Kildea bass vocals percussion
Bill Wells piano
Mick Cooke French horn
Rosie Townhill Cello
Ysla Robertson violin
Gillian Risi violin
Stevie guitar vocal

The Writers

Stevie Jackson

The Words

Money and style and friends and work
Music and sex and art and scene
Boys and girls and drugs and dreams
That’s you girl
There’s a lot to be said for a telephone line
I could call you up I could make it so fine
But guilt and fear and jealousy
That’s me girl (ho, ho, ho)

I carved her number on my wall
It’s not as if I need someone
It’s not as if I need someone

It’s funny she didn’t like my shirt
So she told me, then she kissed me
Like I’d never seen a flirt
I had not been courting, not for a while
You’d have never have known it
Not by her smile
Now the coins they’re burning a hole in my pocket
Thoughts of her, they’re burning a whole in my head
I could reach for the ‘phone, I could flick it wide open
I could scroll down some number
I could wish I was dead

I carved her number on my wall
It’s not as if I need someone
It’s not as if I need someone
If I treated her like she’s number one
It’s not what I was thinking of
It’s not what I was thinking of

With an action I could be interrupting her time
If I pickup the phone and get her on the line
Is she making some coffee, washing her dishes
Playing her records, dreaming her wishes
Now I’m running with my group, I’m feeling alright
Being chased by the rain like ‘A Hard Day’s Night’
I pass by the ‘phone I wonder if she’s home
She’s so cool, gotta have her, think I’ll leave her alone

The Song

I’ve had the tune since I was 17 but could never think of words for it. Years go by and then one afternoon you’re chilling out with your pal, grooving on Serge and Bardot DVD’s and suddenly there it is. There’s worse ways to spend an afternoon I suppose. Thanks to Emma for checking the Franglais.

The Players

Katrina Mitchell drums
Bill Wells Parisian jazz guitar
Bob Kildea bass vocals percussion
Sarah Martin pizzicato
Aby Vulliamy accordion
Roy Moller vocals percussion
Stevie guitar keys vocals percussion

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

Dead leaves on the street the day after love did go
Chemin de fer may now take me there
En route to Julie Greco
Commencement, Arrondissement, super intellectual
Philosophise, ‘neath Parisian skies
Dans le café Les Deux Magots

Pardonne moi, excusez moi
Tell me where do all the good girls go?
Pardonne moi, excusez moi
Tell me where do all the good girls go?
Where do all the good girls go?

Where do they go in the City of Light?
Where do they go? Where is the beautiful life?
Where do they go?

Jean Michel at the bar, he’s having a jar
Oxygene beginning to flow
Charlotte Rampling is starting to sing
“Where did Victor Hugo?”
I need a girl for this boy, a bundle of joy
Wrapped like a paquet cadeau
She’ll appear on the tide and together we’ll glide
Dans l’escalier Clemenceau

Pardonne moi, excusez moi
Tell me where do all the good girls go?
Pardonne moi, excusez moi
Tell me where do all the good girls go?
Where do all the good girls go?

Where do they go? There’s none that I can see
Where do they go? Où est la belle vie?
Where do they go?

The Song

Another Movie Director song. I’m a bit confused by this one. I started off writing about Kurosawa but the song ended up being more about Ozu another great Japanese director and particularly a film called Good Morning. I think I heard this as a creed sang by Japanese school children including the pigeon parable contained herein. Also contains a description of Japanese women in their traditional dress that I read in a book about Ozu: “Awkward, touching and graceful.” Add to that a motto lifted from a poster of the Country Music Hall of Fame Nashville (thanks Julie) and a cymbal lifted from High and Dry by the Stones and there you have it.

The Players

Alex Neilson drums
Bill Wells bass
Aby Vulliamy pigeon viola
Bob Kildea percussion
Mick Cooke horns
Yuko Takemoto voice
Stevie guitar keys vocals

Bonus Audio

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Nicola Atkinson

The Words

Honour thy music. Honour thy love
Honour thy friendship. Honour thy blood
With sturdiness of purpose perpetrate all the above
Play on the flute made of purest gold

Let us be friends and I’ll tell you of my dream
Let us be lovers, I’ll show you what I mean

I am awkward, I am touching, I am graceful
I am playful, always poised, never hateful
For Life is never certain in the slightest sense of meaning
Feel the Universal time with fullness of my Being

There was a friendly pigeon, I met him in my dream
He came to entertain me, he kept me company
Along came a bigger bird, more bigger than he
Snapped his wing and dragged him to his destiny
“Oh why bigger bird, why’d you pick on me?”
said the little pigeon hanging desperately
“I’m hungry and it’s time for lunch” the bigger bird replied
“Go to sleep and dream your dream in pigeon pie”

I am awkward, I am touching, I am graceful
I am playful, always poised, never hateful
For Life is never certain in the slightest sense of meaning
Feel the Universal time with fullness of my Being
Heading for the parallel, the sultry state of dreaming
With your pigeon by your side, you’re not alone

The Song

Me and Moller, having a laugh. He had the first bit and I with a descending glissando on the electric piano invaded his song with the man of god bit. It’s funny to think of us in the same room, trying to seduce the same woman with dim lighting and some 70’s Soul records. In reality, the girl would probably soon get bored and leave, as we’d end up talking about Beatles’ b-sides or something.

The Players

Alex Neilson drums
Bill Wells bass
Bob Kildea guitars percussion
Dave McGowan pedal steel
Chris Geddes Percussion
Ysla Robertson violin
Gillian Risi violin
Stevie keys vocals
Roy Moller vocals
Cinnamon girls* vocals
(*Janis Fyfe Murray, Lorraine Wilson, Donna Swabey, Laura McMahon)

The Writers

The Company

The Words

Don’t nail your colours to the past,
don’t fly the flag from the ruined castle
Don’t go re-hiring the same old cast
for all your dramas, it ain’t worth the hassle

Holy Moses I feel like a Man of God, I wish I could reach you
Laying around and laying down the deal, should I feel a fraud?
I wish I could teach you. Can I reach you?

Every time you hear his voice, it’s an invitation for another bad choice
Every time you hear his voice, it’s an invitation for another bad choice

Don’t nail your colours to the past, you shouldn’t play with that guy
You’re saluting the sinking mast, my ship is coming in you should give it a try

Holy Moses I feel like a Man of God, I wish I could reach you
Laying around and laying down the deal, should I feel a fraud?
I wish I could teach you. Can I reach you?

Every time you hear me speak, it’s an invitation, got to say it real sweet
Every time you hear my voice, it’s an invitation to make a good choice
For you and me too

Hear me coming on through with a message to you
Be my congregation
Hear the voice of truth. Hear the voice of reason
Hear the voice of truth. Hear the voice of reason
Hear the voice of me girl
Hear the voice of Donny Hathaway and the Detroit Emeralds
Playing on my turntable for you
And the Love Unlimited
Can you feel the need in me? Can you feel the need?
Rock my boat, baby rock the ocean
Ah honey I feel like a Man of God, I got no dog collar
Can you hear me holler!!!?

The Song

In 2007, I was asked to contribute to the Abbey View project by the artist in residence, Nicola Atkinson. This is a song from it. Abbey View is an area in Dunfermline, Scotland which was under redevelopment at the time including the demolition of groups of modern flats which must been built in the 70’s. The flats were in a semi circle around a large piece of greenery.

I couldn’t help but think of how idealistic it must have seemed at the planning stage, a brave new world full of space and fresh air. Of course the flats whilst they looked ok were actually shoddily made with cheap materials, the usual scenario with the whole thing falling to pieces within a few short years. Which is not to say that the residents didn’t take pride and care of their homes, they did. One of the inspirations was a piece written by Carole Lambie, another one of the artists Nicola had engaged, actually entitled Bird’s Eye View which describes conversations with one such resident. Some of the images came from photographs taken from inside one of the derelict flats by Nicola Atkinson.

Bonus Audio

The Players

Stevie guitars keys percussion vocals
Gary Thom bike, gloc

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Nicola Atkinson / Gary Thom

The Words

What was old, once was new
What’s lying derelict once stood straight, proud and true
Taking a bird’s eye view, life goes on with a song
Well maybe with a lick of paint
You might not think my head is on straight
I would be lying if I told you the truth
What was old once was new, taking a bird’s eye view

What stands ugly and mean awaiting demolition day
Was once the start of somebody’s dream

Now the Sun shines through the broken glass
The bike for the birthday boy, he’s left it now, he’s gone away
And the lilac wall paper once brought home and hung with patience and care
Now there’s nobody there
What was old once was new, taking a bird’s eye view

On the draughtsman’s board this looked like a dream
Modern housing pitched like tents around a village green

What was old once was new, taking a bird’s eye view

Taking a bird’s eye view, I’ll pack my wings and get out of here
There’s nothing else that I can do
What was old once was new, taking a bird’s eye view

The Song

A song for late spring even if it is coming out in the dead of winter.

The Players

Kurt Dahle drums
John Collins bass percussion harmonium
Stevie guitars piano vocals percussion

The Writers

The Company

The Words

Bring out the summer in me, bring out the colours you see
Bring out your comic book smile you wore as a child
Bring out the answer to me, a one hundred and eighty degree
Turn around, seasons and days, lets get lost in the haze
I’ve been set in my ways

Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the answer to me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
So what can I say?

Remember the time that I fell, for you it meant nothing at all
Playing at dead man’s fall, you ran down the hall
Bring out your caricatures, bring out the best of what’s left
A description of youth, a laughter not fading away
It means something to me

Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the answer to me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
Bring out your books, bring out your looks
Bring out the colours for me
Something more has happened today
I love you it turned out that way
So what can I say

The Song

Rick and I would double track with two tape recorders, making little albums with titles like The Grand Encounter and Syd Wympey Rocks. We had fun imagining our solo careers making up album titles for later life. I had one called Jackson Viking he had one called Richie Now.

The Players

Kurt Dahle drums
John Collins bass
Stevie guitars piano vocals
Rose Melberg vocals

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

He was my Best Friend at school
He was handsome and cool
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

The girls would all follow him home
The bad boys would leave him alone
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

He has every Beatle record and me I only had one…
The ‘Twist and Shout’ EP from 1963
He talked of ‘Rubber Soul’ and wonder would unfold.

At lunchtime we played our guitars
We dreamed of being stars
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

“Worry, worry, worry, don’t you worry
Everything is sure to go our way
Talks never cheap and our thoughts are always streamed
In our own mind
Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry
Hurry, hurry, hurry on our way
The past is behind us, it’s also up ahead so don’t delay”

Though we dreamed the air of magic
The magic failed to recognize us
Tried to seize the day, the days got in the way
They hurtled past, our plans all went astray

We were so youthful and bold
We never thought we’d grow old

Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie?
Come back and play and we’ll know where we’re going
Why Richie, won’t Richie, say where is Richie Now?

The Song

A simple guitar song dealing with the usual popular song aspiration stuff: “Try me,” “Give me a Try,” “It’s me that you need,” etc. Might seem a bit strong for a late thirty-something narrator singing of such things. To me, it makes a lot of sense apart from the line about the Doctor. My Doctor knows me well and prescribes accordingly. That aside the words ring true.

I was running it down with the Company and Gary out of nowhere started chanting:
“Like a swan I’ll come running to you, like a swan I’ll fly away”
EXACTLY! I had to laugh. The reality of the political nature of aspirational relationships nailed for all to see. I guess you could say that’s my favourite line.

The Players

Katrina Mitchell drums
Bill Wells bass
Bob Kildea lead guitar vocals percussion
Stevie guitar vocals
Sarah Martin organ
Roy Moller vocals

The Writers

The Company

The Words

Got a tattoo back in ’93 the name is fading away so Try Me
I lost my compass, I was all out at sea, now I’m close to the coast Try Me
At 37 I was still in your tree, I’d pass for 33 so Try Me
I got pills and I’m looking for thrills
At the same time I want to start a family Try Me Try Me

To the Doctor at the end of my day, he didn’t know what to say to me
A Brief Encounter that you didn’t foresee and it’s shaking your station Try me
Don’t vote where you don’t belong, the theme of this song is Try Me
I wish it was 1964, I’m still stuck in ’63 maybe next year Try Me, Try Me

Like a swan I’ll come running to you, like a swan I’ll fly away.

The Song

Taken from a group of songs written about movie directors. Written for John Huston, the wives of John Huston and, errr, me! I don’t know how I ended up in there recalling people that have been to the point: people to this day, I still admire despite the pain they’ve caused me. Why should it cause pain? A fudged consciousness to blame, maybe? I guess it makes me think of my desire for an ordered, balanced and productive life. It’s hard not to quote Dylan at this point:
“I tried my best not to hurt anyone and to steer clear of a life of crime.”
I’ve been hurt but I’ve also caused hurt. Can you learn from both of them? Is the first lesson that they are the same thing?

The Players

John Clark bass acoustic guitar percussion
Stevie keys elec sitar vocals
Bob Kildea percussion
Ysla Robertson violin
Gillian Risi violin

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

Here comes the wayward Son and he’s going to find direction at last
“Hey kids kick it all around cause I’m going to read my paper before I look through the lens”
Like Hemmingway would always say
“ Hey, you know, you know that the Man makes the work”
Your naysayers don’t get your groovin’ as your reaching for your elephant gun

He was just, just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
Just so, say it isn’t “Uh Ho”
Just so to the point it’s scary
TO THE POINT, it’s scary

Girl One, she loved you true and you were lost in her smile till along came number Two
Sense a rift, you didn’t write it in the script
Then came number Three and she’s lapping up your Cocktail Blues
Showed the door to number Four
Cute little number, you were looking for a higher score
Met a Crocodile, happy for a little while
Now she’s getting snappy and she’s making allegations

Just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb (sing her a long song)
She was just so to the point it’s scary
TO THE POINT it’s scary

Listen John you could my Saviour, making with my Flavia
Scenes from Scandinavia
Winds blow, she come from the Seven Seas
Uh oh, Vikings in the Hebrides
Press keys, spell check, press send, “We still friends?”
No reply, guts spilled, she’s strong willed, it’s not a thrill to love her

A broken heart, I headed for a foreign land
A New York Tempeh sandwhich so take me to Angelica’s (300 East 12th Street)
Houston we don’t have a problem, Tom Hanks, no thanks
To the promise of a better world (Goodbye Apollo 13)
Cute girl said “Come to Philadelphia”
I took the Gamble then she took the Huff
Mancunian Polish Sex Priestess, pulled down her dress said
“Enough is enough”

She was just, she was just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb
She was just so to the point it scared me
TO THE POINT it scared me

Hey John, I’m kissing out of tune, won’t you tell me your prescription, tell me what I’m missing
“Hey Boy, you gotta hear what I say, you gotta fill your ears with marrow from a cow killed in the hay”
May Horse, she’s a mean little apple
Hatful, capful, 3 bushel bagfuls
Hold my hand let’s pray to the saints
She said
“Get yourself a backbone, you ain’t no invertebrate”

The Song

Actions, directions, corners taken, history and present colliding. There is no youth, middle age, death when you look at it coldly and, obviously, subjectively. There is only the Now.

I was rehearsing with Belle and Sebastian and we got into a discussion about keys and whether or not they had distinctive attributes. I thought of this song, it’s in F. I don’t play piano very well but on that instrument F feels like a proper key or at least in my perception, this feels like a proper song, whatever that means.

I had the words written out and was hitting the keys randomly in the company of Roy Moller to see if anything would come. Suddenly we got the idea of pretending to be Elton and the tune came in a flash. I guess something has to become unhinged in your brain to sing lines like “Lovers, friends, let friends be lovers” but there you go, means a lot to me too. I guess you got to approach something like this with a smile. Roy described the piece as “a tasty album cut.” I knew what he meant and we can only live in hope.

The Players

Katrina Mitchell drums
Bill Wells bass
Bob Kildea guitars vocals percussion
Stevie piano organ pedal steel vocals
John Clark elec piano

The Writers

Stevie Jackson / Roy Moller

The Words

Sitting with my lunchbox, plain bread “Mother’s Pride”
Brown crust on the outside
I couldn’t take my eyes off her
She was playing and I was staying
PURE OF HEART

From boy to man, the awkward stance, the guitar chords and also-rans
The brown suede for the 60’s look
The out of timeness, fashion blindness
All the same I remained
PURE OF HEART

Dreaming of Fame and all its glory
The main thing I longed for was Love
The main thing I longed for was Love

The scent of togetherness, the lavender upon her dress
The girl in the garret stepping into time
Lovers, friends let friends be lovers
Now I know, I’ll need no other, I am
PURE OF HEART

Explorations there to find, Ego-tripping on my mind
Too late for the garret, to the garret I said Goodbye
Lavender girl just shook her head and smiled and said
“Where’s the Pure of Heart?”

Flatter all the lovers you call friends
Who knows who is true and who pretends

Back to the starting post, back to what means the most
Take a look at all that I have learned
Need a friend to be my lover
And I know there’ll be other
I’ll be Pure of Heart
Come on take my hand and make me
PURE OF HEART