EDSS 1030 PA DTMA booklet 9/1/09 10:28 Page 2 · PDF file · 2016-10-15all acoustic, and I’d since begun to ... shiny, unsentimental brass seemed right too. CJ: ... EDSS 1030 PA

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EDSS 1030 The Songs Of PETE ATKIN & CLIVE JAMES

EDSS 1030 PA DTMA booklet 9/1/09 10:28 Page 2

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Project co-ordination – Val Jennings CD package – Jools at Mac Concept CD mastering – Alchemy Ephemera courtesy of the collections of Pete Atkin and Clive JamesCD front cover main photo and strapline photo –Sophie BakerHuge thanks – Pete Atkin, Clive James, Simon Platz, Steve Birkill, Ronen Guhaand Caroline Cook

For everything (and we mean everything) relating toPete Atkin’s works, visit www.peteatkin.com, butmake sure you’ve got plenty of time to spend! Then of course, you’ll want to visitwww.clivejames.com

Pete Atkin’s albums on the Edsel label: Beware Of The Beautiful Stranger…plus[EDSS 1029] Driving Through Mythical America[EDSS 1030] A King At Nightfall…plus + The Road Of Silk [2 CD] [EDSD 2028] Secret Drinker + Live Libel[2 CD] [EDSD 2029]

Visit www.demonmusicgroup.co.uk for the Edsel catalogue and the many other fine labels thatmake up the Demon Music Group.

Tracks 1 – 11 licensed by Fly Records. Fly Records is adivision of Onward Music Ltd. p 2009 Onward Music Ltdunder licence to Demon Music Group Ltd. © 2009 OnwardMusic Ltd/Demon Music Group Ltd. Track 12 issued underlicence from Pete Atkin. Track 12 p & © 1969 Pete Atkin.Marketed by Edsel Records, a division of the Demon MusicGroup Ltd, London, W1W 7TL. The Demon Music Group isa 2 entertain company. Manufactured in the EU.

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Driving Through MythicalAmerica Philips 6308 070, 1971. Re-issued on RCASF 8386 in 1973 in a re-designed sleeve.

Lyrics – Clive JamesMusic and arrangements – Pete Atkin

Conducted by Don Fraser Produced by Don Paul Engineered by Roger Quested Recorded at Studio 1,Morgan Studios,Willesden, LondonNW10, in March 1971 Original album designby Pat Doyle

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PA: What turned out to be my first LP onFontana, Beware Of The BeautifulStranger, was recorded originally as demosfor the publishers Essex Music. Itscommercial release had a lot to do with theenthusiasm of Kenny Everett, and itreceived enough positive attention forEssex to be interested in having me makeanother one.

By now (1970) I was sharing a flat inSwiss Cottage with a bunch of othernewcomers to London including Clive, whorented a room as his weekday Londonwriting base, so he and I had plenty ofregular contact for the to-and-fro of writingsongs. We already had more than enoughsongs ready and waiting for a new album,with more always on the go.

For the new LP there was a bigenough budget to allow me to use a biggerstudio and more musicians, not big enoughto go mad – or even mildly eccentric in anendearing rock-and-roll kind of a way – butbig enough to make a difference to thesound and feel of the recording, enough,

with luck, to make it sound morelike a ‘proper’ record and less like aset of demos. That first album hadbeen, accidentally and necessarily,all acoustic, and I’d since begun tobuild up a bit of a following playingacoustically mainly in folk clubs, so Idid wonder idly if this might be myBob-Dylan-goes-electric moment,but the truth is I don’t think anyonewas that bothered, what with menot actually being Bob Dylan and all.


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Most of thisalbum wasrecorded ‘as live’,i.e. with mesinging andplaying and all themusicians,including thebrass, etc.,playing in thestudio at thesame time,instead ofoverdubbingsome of themlater. I think theidea appealed tome (probably something about ‘feel’), but Iseem to remember that doing it had quite abit to do with cost: it was a way of avoidingthose extra sessions of expensivestudio time.

It did mean I had to be wellprepared, with full arrangementsworked out beforehand, parts writtenout and everything. There wasn’t timeto teach the musicians the songs andspend studio time working out what todo. It wasn’t a huge orchestra, but theline-up was big enough, especially withthe horns, to need some kind of aconductor in the studio, which couldn’tbe me if I was also going to be singingand playing, so Don Fraser came in tobring a bit of experience to that role.

Although as far as I know thefinished LP sold least well of all my

1970s albums, it’s always been the oneI’ve had the most enquiries about in allthe years of its unavailability. Maybe it’ssomething to do with these particularsongs, or maybe it’s something to dowith the terrific playing from a brilliantset of session musicians.

CJ: Despite the title, I don’t think thatany of my lyrics for the songs on thisalbum were aimed at an Americanaudience. They were aimed at whatpeople elsewhere thought of America.Partly because of the continuingVietnam disaster, America was in thenews every day. Although Pete hadbriefly toured the US with the Oxford

and Cambridge Shakespeare Company, Imyself still hadn’t been there. But theimagery, far from feeling second-hand,

seemed to be tobe happening allaround me. Lateron I realised thatwe were livingthrough theopening stages ofwhat we nowknow as theglobal mediahegemony andthe 24-hour newscycle.

Pete Atkin andClive James,November/December 2008

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11. Lady Of A Day 2.34Recorded on 11th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, piano, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Dennis Clift – trumpet Leon Calvert – trumpet Dai Davies – trombone Jim Wortley – bass trombone Richard Ihnatowicz – clarinet

PA: This one’s a bit unusual harmonically,at least in the accompanying chords. They’reall based, for what little it’s worth, on awhole-tone scale, i.e. F, G, A, B, D flat, andE flat. I was just messing about really and Iliked the kind of uncertain, spacey, un-joined-up feeling which that gave. And theshiny, unsentimental brass seemed right too.

CJ: The word “gay” was still available tobe used without gender-based overtones inthose days. Autres temps, autres moeurs,as we used to say at the milk bar acrossfrom Kogarah railway station. Live longenough and your vocabulary will date you,but if you try to fix it up the repairs mightlook more conspicuous than the damage.“There’s a bar in far Mumbai…”

And so goodbye, my lady of a dayNow let your step be long and now your laugh

be gayIt’s only right that everything went wrongIt couldn’t happen any other way

A thousand miles east, the lovers sayIt’s written in the sky with stars that lead away

It couldn’t happen to a nicer guyA nicer girl, my lady of a day

Through screens of memory you leave meSmile on the screen behindAnd then the screen behind the screen

behind the screenBut nothing alters what has beenNor do my eyes deceive me

And so goodbye, my lady of a nightNow let your head be clear and now your

smile brightAs hour by day by week by month by yearYou dim but never wholly disappearOn the curving path away from my delight

Bonus demo12. Practical Man 2.31Recorded at City of London Recording Studio,Osborn Street, London EC1 on 3rd February1969Pete Atkin – vocal, guitar Steve Cook – bass

PA: In common with most of the demosappended to “Beware Of The BeautifulStranger”, this track comes from my secondprivately pressed LP “The Party’s MovingOn” from 1969. Again I should apologisefor the sound quality because the originalreel-to-reel tapes disappeared a long timeago and this copy has been taken from oneof the very few vinyl copies I can still layhands on.

All songs published by Onward Music Ltd,except tracks 1, 2, 3 and 9 published byWestminster Music Ltd.

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was a late, last flowering of my surrealistphase, whereas the waiters on the flamingswords were just a stroke ofphantasmagorical comedy. But I wouldhope to get the interrogation down to earthby pointing out that if the story line issimple and strong enough then it can bearany amount of rhetorical flash.

What Pete says about the central characteris all too true, alas. We both dreamed ofmeeting the mogul who would try to corruptus, but he never showed up.

Last night I drank with a practical manWho seemed to think he knew me wellHe had no debts and he had no troublesAll night long he kept setting up doublesAnd he asked me ‘What have you got to sell?’

‘I’ll see you right’ said the practical man‘A boy like you should be living highAll you do is get up and be funnyAnd I’ll turn the laughs into folding moneyCan you name me anything that can’t buy?’

‘So you deal in dreams’ said the practical man‘So does that mean you should be so coy?I fixed one chap a show on tellyWho limped like Byron and talked like ShelleyThrough a ten-part epic on the fall of Troy’

‘I’ll tell you what’ said the practical manAs he tapped the ash from a purple fag‘Let’s head uptown for a meal somewhereYou can sing me something while we’re

driving there

There’s a grand piano in the back of my Jag’

So I sang my song to the practical manIt sounded bad but she couldn’t hearAnd the silent lights of town went streamingAs if the car was a turtle dreamingThe night was sad and she was nowhere near

‘It’s a great idea’ said the practical manAs they brought in waiters on flaming swords‘You love this chick and it’s really magicBut she won’t play ball — that’s kind of tragicNow how do we get this concept on the

boards?’

‘I see it like this’ said the practical manAs he chose a trout from the restaurant pool‘We change it round so she’s going franticTo win the love of the last romanticAnd you’re the one, her wild creative fool’

So I thought it all over as the practical manWatched them slaughter the fatted calfI saw again her regretful smileSweet to look at though it meant denialIt was bound to hurt but I had to laugh

And that’s when I told the practical manAs he drank champagne from the Holy GrailThere are some ideas you can’t play round

withCan’t let go of and you can’t give ground with‘Cause when you die they’re what you’re

found withThere are just some songs that are not for

sale

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1. Sunlight Gate 3.47Recorded on 11th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Dennis Clift – trumpet Leon Calvert – flugelhorn Dai Davies – trombone Jim Wortley – bass trombone Richard Ihnatowicz – clarinet

PA: Since my student days I’d been a hugefan of Duke Ellington’s music – still am –not least for the way his and BillyStrayhorn’s arrangements were written for acollection of distinct, individual instrumentalvoices rather than simply for, say, a trumpetsection, a trombone section, and a saxsection. And then there were Gil Evans’sarrangements for Miles Davis and on hisown records, which extended that idea,adding in the sound of some supposedlynon-jazz instruments like bass trombone,flute, cor anglais, etc. A bit later I added thegreat New Zealand composer and arrangerMichael Gibbs to this pantheon. I neveraspired to writing jazz myself, but thisarrangement was an (extremely modest)attempt to recreate something like that kindof instrumental atmosphere.

I had written out a complete part forChris Spedding, intended more as anindication of the kind of thing I would likefrom him than as a strict set of instructions,but what he plays here is note-for-noteprecisely what I wrote for him.

Having played a classical guitarexclusively on Beware Of The BeautifulStranger, I’d now acquired a steel-stringjumbo, a Gibson SJN, to be my workhorseguitar, which it remained for the next 25years or so. But early in this first session Ibroke a string, and – I can hardly believethis now – I had brought no spares withme, so what you hear me play here, if itmatters, is Chris Spedding’s acoustic,which he’d brought along just in case.

CJ: The Vietnam war was in the air likesmoke at the time, but really all the wars arein the lyric. When I was very young, duringthe Korean war, there was a famous photoin Life magazine of a flight of F-80s headingout of Japan for the short flight to the battle.Included in the picture was the free-standing gate of a Shinto shrine. The photostayed in my mind. Even today I find thatimages seen in childhood come back totrigger an idea.

The heroes ride out through the SunlightGate

And out of the sunset returnI have no idea how they spend their dayWith a selfless act, or a grandstand playBut high behind them the sky will burnIn the glittering hour of return

The heroes ride out in unbroken ranksBut with gaps in their number come backI have no idea how they lose their menTo some new threat, or the same againBut they talk a long while near the weapon

stackIn the clattering hour they come back

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The heroes return through the Sunset GateBut their faces are never the sameI have no idea why their eyes go coldAnd the young among them already look oldBut high behind them the sky’s aflameIn the flickering hour of their fame

2. The Pearl-Driller 2.24Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: This is the first of the tracks where Igot to play with 75% of what was in effectthe Morgan Studios house band, who alsoconstituted the instrumental line-up of BlueMink (the missing 25% was AlanHawkshaw who later consoled himself atmissing out on my session by composingthe Countdown music for the Channel 4

game show). Right from the start it wasobvious to me how much I was benefitingfrom their familiarity with each other. Theyseemed to me to play with the fluency of areal band, rather than as a pick-up group ofmusicians, however good they might havebeen individually.

I remember watching TV in the SwissCottage flat one evening with Clive when ashort documentary about the pearlbusiness came on BBC2. The programmeemphasised the precise manual skillrequired in order to drill the pearls fornecklaces, and that this work was alwaysdone by women. I forget why, not that itmatters. I don’t think any of the women inthe film was wearing a gold silk jacket. Butthen our TV was black and white.

CJ: For the suitably retarded malementality, pretty female faces spark songs.Just for the record, however, the girl in

question had a silver silkjacket, not a gold one, andonly a madman would havegone with her anywhere. Theconsequence was a lyricwhich now seems to me asarch as the Admiralty. I try toblock it out by sticking myfinger in one ear whilelistening to the music with theother. But I still love, for all thewrong reasons, my idea of thegrip containing “the few goodbooks that really count.” Thegrip would have had to bebigger than a military kit-bag

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verse proves that he could havecomposed the melodically appealingoperas that so many famous modernopera composers patently couldn’t. In mynightmares I still meet an angry fan whodoesn’t realise that the “cats” arecatamarans, and I have to reassure himthat no animals were endangered in thecreation of this lyric.

When you see what can’t be helped go byWith bloody murder in its eyeAnd the mouth of a man put on the rackThe voice of a man about to crack

When you see the litter of their livesThe stupid children, bitter wivesYour self-esteem in disarrayYou do your best to climb awayFrom the streaming traffic of decay

Believing if you will that all these sick hatedays

Are just a kind of trick Fate playsBut still behind your shaded eyesThat mind-constricting thick weight stays

When on the outskirts of the townComes bumping cavernously downOut of the brick gatewaysFrom the faded mansion on the hillThe out-of-date black CadillacWith the old man crumpled in the backThat Time has not yet found the time to kill

Between the headlands to the sea the fleeingyachts of summer go

White as a sheet and faster than the drivensnow

Like dolphins riding high and giant seabirdsflying low

And square across the wind the cats andwingsails pull ahead

Living their day as if it almost could be saidThe cemetery of home could somehow soon

be left for dead

But the graveyard of tall ships is really hereWhere the grass breaks up the driveway more

each yearAnd here is all these people haveAnd everything they can’t believeThe beach the poor men never reachThe shore the rich men never leave

Between the headlands from the sea thehoming yachts of summer fill

The night with shouts and falling sails andthen are still

The avenues wind up into the darkness of thehill

Where Time tonight might find the time to kill

10. Practical Man 3.08Recorded on 23rd March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitars Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums

PA: I like to think that we were being at leastsomewhat ironic even as early as when wewrote this. My guess is that if any practicalman had made us an even vaguely similaroffer we’d have jumped up, saluted smartly,caved in, and sold out sharpish. As thingsturned out, we’ve been able to hang on to alofty but unconvincing disdain for the very idea.

CJ: Were I to be grilled by a pedant aboutthe imagery of this lyric, I might find myselfexplaining that the car with a turtle’s mind

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Morgan Studios building 2008


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Four students watched the soldiers load andaim

And never tumbled they were on the spotMoose Molloy pulled ten years on a frameThe dough was phoney and the car was hot

They were driving through mythical America

Henry Ford paid seven bucks a dayRockwell did the covers on the PostFDR set up the TVAAnd the stars rode silver trains from coast to

coast

Four students blinked at ordinary skies But the sunlight came from thousands of

motelsA highway through the night was in their eyes And waiting at the roadblock Orson Welles


Four students never guessed that they werethrough

Their history had them covered like a gunIt hit them like a bolt out of the blueToo quick to grasp and far too late to run

They crashed and died together in the sun


9. The Faded Mansion On The Hill 4.33Recorded on 25th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, electric piano Dave Bell – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: When we were writing this, my headjust happened to have been full of imagesfrom Raymond Chandler, and it took me a

pathetically long time to realise that ofcourse the main setting here is Sydneyharbour. Not that it matters. The song isabout home, the idea of home and thereality of home, and we can all put our ownpersonal gloss on that.

It’s the only song on this album withone of those Broadway-style introductoryverses before the song itself breaks out,but in this case I treated the verse musicallyalmost as a song in its own right, with amiddle eight and everything.

There’s another example here of thekind of problem I caused by mucking up aline on the take, the kind of problem eventhe genius of Roger Quested was unableto solve on No Dice. I messed up on theline “The cemetery of home couldsomehow soon be left for dead” too badlyto even think of leaving it uncorrected. So Ire-recorded just that line, but since onceagain I had been simultaneously singingand playing, the re-taken vocal includesnone of the spilled-over sound of the piano,hence the markedly different sound qualityon that line. We hoped that it might betaken as a deliberate and deucedly cleveracoustic effect. Well, I’ve blown that now.

CJ: As I remember it, I was the one whosaid that the noticeably different quality ofthe dropped-in line would register asdeliberate because it was too blatant to betaken any other way. I’m not here toembarrass Pete with flattery, but I wishthere were more critics who would,because I think the way he set the long

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and would certainly have slowed down thegetaway.

If you find me gone one dayAnd the sad songs left half-doneIt won’t be alone that I’ve gone awayBut a long way that I’ve run

I’ll be gone with the girl in the gold silk jacketThe girl with the pearl-driller’s hands

If I fly the coop some timeAnd take nothing but a gripWith the few good books that really countIt’s a necessary trip


If one day you think me lostI’ll be thinking with each kissThat the wrecked man has been found at lastI waited too long for this


3. No Dice 6.02Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, piano Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: With hindsight, this song probablymarks the point at which we put aside theidea that we were or should be trying towrite songs for other singers to sing. Bynow I seemed to have at least some kind ofrecording future, so that our songs nowhad an outlet, and we could therefore feelfree to try something other than what might

be saleable – even if our saleability hadonly ever been in our own imaginationsanyway. I was stunned by the ambition ofthis one when Clive handed me the lyric:four dreadful deaths and a confession offailure to make sense of them. Not youreveryday chart material.

It was a challenge to set, that’s forsure. It certainly couldn’t afford to beelegiac. It had to drive. And each story hadto have a strong shape, so the tune foreach verse is a kind of continuouscomposition, with no repetitions until it getsto the tagline chorus – a repetition which Iconfess I manufactured.

I probably shouldn’t draw attention toit, but there’s a fluff in the vocal. The reasonI’ve had to live with it all these years is thatthe track is 100% as we performed it, mesinging and playing the piano along withthe other guys, and it is indeed the onlytake. Once again I’d written out detailedparts for everyone. We ran through the introand the first verse to get a balance, theright tempo, the feel of it, and someone – Ithink it was Herbie – said “Let’s go straightfor one, shall we?” So we did. They playedthe intro as I’d written it and then we wereoff, the remainder of my written fiddly bitstriumphantly ignored. It was one of themost exciting musical experiences I’ve everhad. It’s some kind of miracle that I made itthrough to the end of the take with only thatone stumble. But because I was singinglive at the piano, and the piano mikes hadinevitably picked up too much of the vocaland the band, it wasn’t possible to ‘drop in’

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a retake of the fluffed line, and I decided tolive with it, for better or worse. If only I’dscrewed up more badly, we’d have had togo again.

CJ: Pete is quite right to say that this songmarks the point at which we started to gofor broke. I had already done lyrics with amultiple time-frame but in this one I cut thetime-frames together without any linkingmaterial at all. so that the discontinuitybecame part of the subject. I could explaineach scene if I was held at gunpoint, butthe drama is meant to depend, in eachepisode, on the listener’s being forced toguess, and not having enough time tofigure it out because the music will not letup. One thing, however, I should makeclear: the linguistic trigger was those twomagnificent lines by Louis MacNeice aboutthe ancient world: “It was all sounimaginably different/ And all so long ago.”

I tried hard to be useful, but no diceWith no spit left I couldn’t soften leatherWith these old hands I couldn’t even sewSo yesterday they left me on the iceI could barely lift my head to watch them goThe sky was white, my eyes grew full of snowWhat thing reached me first, bears or the

weatherI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

I saw across our path through the lagoonThick shrubberies of hail collide and quarrelSudden trees of shellburst hump and blowOur LVT turned through the reef too soon

The front went down, we all got set to goBut the whole routine was just too bloody

slowWhat kind of splinters hit me, steel or coralI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

We hit the secret trails towards thin airAware we’d never live to tell the storyAnd at the last deep lake before the snowWe rigged the slings, chipped out the water-

stairSwung out the holy gold and let it goIt sank so far it didn’t even glowAnd if the priest died too to share our gloryI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

Yesterday we finished with the ditchWe stacked our spades and knelt in groups of

sevenOur hands were wired by an NCOWith a fluent-from-long-practice loop and

hitchNo dice – there was nothing left to throwA bump against your neck and down you goAnd if I kept my peace or cried to heavenI just don’t know Yesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

Yesterday from midnight until dawnI lay remembering my lost endeavourThe love song that would capture how things

flowThe one song that refuses to be bornFor I have tried a thousand times or soTo link the ways men die with how they grow

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shooting four students dead and injuringnine more. The impact of this waspredictably enormous and not just onyoung people, amongst whom we stillcounted ourselves.

Clive’s resulting lyric was one of thefirst of several through the years where hejuxtaposes images and ideas from differenttimes in history, rather as W.H. Auden haddone in The Fall Of Rome. The song alsorepresents a view or an idea of Americagained from the outside; Clive had neverbeen to America when he wrote this.CJ: As Kafka and the young Brecht bothproved, the imaginary America, the one youhaven’t been to, can be even morepowerful in the mind than the reality. TheKent State disaster created, in my mind, avortex of centripetal energy that pulledsecond-hand vignettes together with suchforce that they fused, as if a junk-pile hadmelted. I don’t quite know how it happenedand I certainly never did anything quite likeit again, but I remain proud that youngerpeople still see something definite in itwhen all I remember is sitting around in atrance. My daughter Claerwen used thetitle for one of the abstract paintings in herfirst exhibition, and when I asked her why,she said something along the lines of “Dad,you don’t understand your own words.” Thenames of the cars are all wrong but thatwas because my memory had played metricks. Such details were far harder tocheck up on in at a time, now hard toimagine, before Google existed. Thegangster Eddie Prue is a figure of evil in a

novel by Raymond Chandler. There isnothing Eddie Prue won’t do. Pete’smelody, I think, irresistibly evokes a longcar-ride through many states to anappointment that would be better not kept.Four students in the usual light of daySet out to speak their minds about the warUnaware that Eddie Prue was on the wayThings had to snap before they knew the

score


A Rooney-Garland show was in the barnFields was at the Pussycat CafeNo-one had even heard of Herman KahnAnd Jersey Joe was eager for the fray

Four students had to take it in their strideAnd couldn’t feel the road beneath the wheelsOf the car they didn’t know they rode insideAcross the set and through the cardboard

hills


They sold their Studebaker Golden HawkAnd bought a Nash Ambassador SaloonBogart said “Even the dead can talk”And suddenly the coats were all raccoon

Four students never knew that this was itThere isn’t much a target needs to knowAlready Babyface had made the hitAnd Rosebud was upended in the snow


Gatsby floated broken in the poolThe Kansas City Seven found a grooveBarrymore and Lombard played the foolAnd Cheetah slowly taught John Wayne to

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which I couldn’t play, got into my mind asthe ideal accompaniment for singing, whichI couldn’t do either. On the BennyGoodman small group tracks, CharlieChristian’s guitar sang all by itself. I wasfascinated, although it had not yet occurredto me that Les Paul’s guitar on “How Highthe Moon” would one day take over fromCharlie Christian’s as my personal ideal ofhow the instrument should sound. Not evenRy Cooder could beat that. It was theflamenco guitar that led me to Lorca’spoetry, rather than the other way around. InCarlos Saura’s Carmen, one of my favouritemovies, Paco Peña’s flamenco guitarknocked me out along with the dancing. Athousand years later, I hosted a fund-raisingconcert at the Festival Hall. Paco was oneof the guest artists, and as he worked hismagic I realised that I had forecast themoment in a lyric I had written long ago. A guitar is a thief in the nightThat robs you of sleep through the wall A guitar is a thin box of lightThrowing reflections that rise and fallIt reminds you of Memphis or maybe Majorca Big Bill Broonzy or Garcia LorcaA truck going north or a cab to the Festival

HallAnd the man who plays the guitar for lifeTests his thumbs on a slender knifeForever caresses a frigid wifeHis fingers travel on strings and fretsLike a gambler’s moving to cover betsRemembering what his brain forgetsWhile his brain remembers the fears and

debts

Long fingernails that tap a brittle rhythm on aglass

Around his neck a ribbon with a little silverhook

Like some military order second classYou can read him like an open bookFrom the hands that spend their lives creating

tensionFrom the wrists that have a lean and hungryEyes that have a mean and angry look

A guitar is a thief in the nightThat robs you of sleep through the wallA guitar is a thin box of lightThrowing reflections that rise and fallA guitar reminds you of death and taxesCharlie Christian outplaying the saxesThe beginners’ call and the very last call of all

8. Driving Through MythicalAmerica 5.33Recorded on 16th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Clive Baker – trumpet, flugelhorn Alan Wakeman – tenor sax, flute Don Fay – tenor sax, bass clarinet Richard Ihnatowicz – baritone sax,clarinet

PA: On May 4th, 1970, at Kent StateUniversity in Ohio, there was a peacefulstudent protest at the recent Nixon-announced U.S. invasion of Cambodia. TheOhio National Guard were called out and intheir unwarranted panic they ended up

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But no dice, and if I’ll do it everI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago

4. The F lowers And The Wine 2.07Recorded on 23rd March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitars Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums

PA: This sad little scenario has turned outto be one of our most successful songs –successful in the attention it has drawnfrom other singers, at any rate. For me it’sthat image of the streetlights across theriver that keeps bringing me back to it.

CJ: Val Doonican sounded winninglysmooth when he covered this one, but youcan imagine my delight when I discoveredthat his writers had rewritten the lyrics ofthe bridge section in order toaccommodate Val’s own ideas of whatmight be poignant. In my own mind,however, the ringing of the cash registerdrowned out any yelps of pain.

Another night I’ve been to visit you and himComes to an endSwitch on the hallway lightFarewell a friend

Another night I bring the flowers and the wineHas slipped awayThere were only three to dineAnd two to stay

When you fix the dates for tête-à-têtes likethese

What tells you that I count the days betweenExcept my nothing-caring air of ease?

When clouds black out the moon that movesthe tide

What tells you there’s a river in the darkExcept the streetlights on the other side?

Another night I book a taxi door to doorHas been and goneI have never loved you moreSee you anon

5. Where Have They AllGone? 2.33Recorded on 16th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano Chris Spedding – electric guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Alan Wakeman – tenor sax Don Fay – tenor sax Richard Ihnatowicz – baritone sax

PA: If you ever wondered what happened toThe Master Of The Revels, then here’s youranswer. If you didn’t, then it’s in the natureof the character to tell you anyway. Actually,it’s another one of those stories where youget the set-up and the aftermath but youhave to work out the middle bit for yourself.

CJ: I still love the way Pete made themusic move along with the pulse of a partythat never ends, but this is a lyric thatdemonstrates all too clearly why it is wisenever to revisit a theme except from adifferent angle. The narrator is the Master ofthe Revels all over again, only this time in

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hippy apparel, which never looked good onanyone. I placed the word “shindig” in justthe right spot, though. Sometimes a littlesatisfaction like that is the most you get totake away. I should add, for purposes ofdefence against self-libel, that nobody atany party organized by me was ever indanger from anything except the lemonaderunning out.

I used to be a permanent MCThe spinning central figure of the funThe heavy action took its cue from meWho else could make things run?

For I threw parties once upon a timeThat started out with everybody tightAnd ended only just this side of crimeSo wasn’t that my right?

I had the leisure problem tapedWith my huge capacity for absorbing pleasureTime wasn’t killed so much as rapedI had its measure

And the shindig kept a rhythm night to nightWith people turning up and turning onThey used to call it strictly out of sightSo where have they all gone?

6. The Prince Of Aquitaine 4.18Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: The refrain about the Prince and theruined tower gave rise to a good deal of

speculation and literary sleuthery on theMidnight Voices Forum atwww.peteatkin.com. Its origin was trackeddown to the French poet Gérard de Nerval,but it was a question I had never botheredto ask myself. As an other-worldly image tocontrast with the harsh realities in eachverse, it seemed to me to work just finewherever the idea may have come from.

It did occur to me much, much laterthat the verses are perhaps in the wrongorder in story-telling terms, that the secondand third verses should be switchedaround. That’s how I do it these days, aswell as quite a bit slower – but it doesn’tmatter much.

CJ: I’d like to be able to say that I wasreading Nerval at the time, but actually Ipicked up the reference from The WasteLand. I figured that if Eliot had pinched itonce, I could pinch it again. In those days Icould recite almost all of Eliot’s poetry byheart and his phrases were crawlingaround in my brains like radioactive bugs.

Pete was right about the necessity toswitch the order of the narrative. His futureexpertise as a radio producer was alreadycoming in to play. He was born with a sureinstinct for narrative, as I noticed when Ifirst heard him sing one of his early Footlightsnumbers “Ballad of an Upstairs Window”and resolved to barge in on his act.

I flew home into the city after dark and in theclear

With a seat beside the window and the usualthrill of fear

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When the spoilers send you sliding down thedrain

The sky was full of London all around thetilting wing

I could have hooked a street out like a pearland diamond string

But I think my fingers couldn’t stand the strain

And to the ruined tower came the Prince ofAquitaine

In the continental terminal the maxi-coatslook rich

It’d take a better eye than mine to even fault astitch

The simple hair is golden as the grainWhile in Piccadilly Circus hunkered down and

neon-litThere are kids with ancient faces who are

praying for a hitBut tonight the only free one is the rain


The highway lights of sodium are cut and setlike gems

They run like this in whisperlines until theyreach the Thames

Their afterimage wealthy in the brainBeneath the bridge’s footway in the shelter of

the stairA cripple plays harmonica for pennies from

the airWhile the river proffers answers to his pain


In idle docks they’re due now to be runningout of meths

Their eyes inside the darkness like a latterdayMacbeth’s

As Birnam wood comes close to DunsinaneI have brought them all the plunder of the

international jetsAn envelope of sugar and two hundred

cigarettesSo I know now that my quest was not in vain


7. Thief In The Night 2.39Recorded on 25th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: A few metaphorical eyebrows wereraised recently when I re-recorded thissong without a guitar on the track at all, butit’s a song about the guitar, from the pointof view of the guy on the other side of thewall, who is not altogether necessarily inlove with the sound, not while he’s trying toget to sleep anyway.

The small mystery of the ‘ribbon with alittle silver hook’ is a strong clue to the factthat when Clive wrote this I was playing aclassical guitar. In order to play it standingup, instead of a conventional guitar strap Iused to use the said ribbon, which hungdown behind and under the guitar with thehook thingie latched on to the soundhole atthe front. It didn’t do too much good to thevarnish, as I recall.

CJ: Back in Sydney in the 1950s I had aBig Bill Broonzy album and spent a lot oftime wondering what it would be like toplay the guitar while singing. The guitar,

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9

hippy apparel, which never looked good onanyone. I placed the word “shindig” in justthe right spot, though. Sometimes a littlesatisfaction like that is the most you get totake away. I should add, for purposes ofdefence against self-libel, that nobody atany party organized by me was ever indanger from anything except the lemonaderunning out.

I used to be a permanent MCThe spinning central figure of the funThe heavy action took its cue from meWho else could make things run?

For I threw parties once upon a timeThat started out with everybody tightAnd ended only just this side of crimeSo wasn’t that my right?

I had the leisure problem tapedWith my huge capacity for absorbing pleasureTime wasn’t killed so much as rapedI had its measure

And the shindig kept a rhythm night to nightWith people turning up and turning onThey used to call it strictly out of sightSo where have they all gone?

6. The Prince Of Aquitaine 4.18Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: The refrain about the Prince and theruined tower gave rise to a good deal of

speculation and literary sleuthery on theMidnight Voices Forum atwww.peteatkin.com. Its origin was trackeddown to the French poet Gérard de Nerval,but it was a question I had never botheredto ask myself. As an other-worldly image tocontrast with the harsh realities in eachverse, it seemed to me to work just finewherever the idea may have come from.

It did occur to me much, much laterthat the verses are perhaps in the wrongorder in story-telling terms, that the secondand third verses should be switchedaround. That’s how I do it these days, aswell as quite a bit slower – but it doesn’tmatter much.

CJ: I’d like to be able to say that I wasreading Nerval at the time, but actually Ipicked up the reference from The WasteLand. I figured that if Eliot had pinched itonce, I could pinch it again. In those days Icould recite almost all of Eliot’s poetry byheart and his phrases were crawlingaround in my brains like radioactive bugs.

Pete was right about the necessity toswitch the order of the narrative. His futureexpertise as a radio producer was alreadycoming in to play. He was born with a sureinstinct for narrative, as I noticed when Ifirst heard him sing one of his early Footlightsnumbers “Ballad of an Upstairs Window”and resolved to barge in on his act.

I flew home into the city after dark and in theclear

With a seat beside the window and the usualthrill of fear

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12

When the spoilers send you sliding down thedrain

The sky was full of London all around thetilting wing

I could have hooked a street out like a pearland diamond string

But I think my fingers couldn’t stand the strain


In the continental terminal the maxi-coatslook rich

It’d take a better eye than mine to even fault astitch

The simple hair is golden as the grainWhile in Piccadilly Circus hunkered down and

neon-litThere are kids with ancient faces who are

praying for a hitBut tonight the only free one is the rain


The highway lights of sodium are cut and setlike gems

They run like this in whisperlines until theyreach the Thames

Their afterimage wealthy in the brainBeneath the bridge’s footway in the shelter of

the stairA cripple plays harmonica for pennies from

the airWhile the river proffers answers to his pain


In idle docks they’re due now to be runningout of meths

Their eyes inside the darkness like a latterdayMacbeth’s

As Birnam wood comes close to DunsinaneI have brought them all the plunder of the

international jetsAn envelope of sugar and two hundred

cigarettesSo I know now that my quest was not in vain


7. Thief In The Night 2.39Recorded on 25th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: A few metaphorical eyebrows wereraised recently when I re-recorded thissong without a guitar on the track at all, butit’s a song about the guitar, from the pointof view of the guy on the other side of thewall, who is not altogether necessarily inlove with the sound, not while he’s trying toget to sleep anyway.

The small mystery of the ‘ribbon with alittle silver hook’ is a strong clue to the factthat when Clive wrote this I was playing aclassical guitar. In order to play it standingup, instead of a conventional guitar strap Iused to use the said ribbon, which hungdown behind and under the guitar with thehook thingie latched on to the soundhole atthe front. It didn’t do too much good to thevarnish, as I recall.

CJ: Back in Sydney in the 1950s I had aBig Bill Broonzy album and spent a lot oftime wondering what it would be like toplay the guitar while singing. The guitar,

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which I couldn’t play, got into my mind asthe ideal accompaniment for singing, whichI couldn’t do either. On the BennyGoodman small group tracks, CharlieChristian’s guitar sang all by itself. I wasfascinated, although it had not yet occurredto me that Les Paul’s guitar on “How Highthe Moon” would one day take over fromCharlie Christian’s as my personal ideal ofhow the instrument should sound. Not evenRy Cooder could beat that. It was theflamenco guitar that led me to Lorca’spoetry, rather than the other way around. InCarlos Saura’s Carmen, one of my favouritemovies, Paco Peña’s flamenco guitarknocked me out along with the dancing. Athousand years later, I hosted a fund-raisingconcert at the Festival Hall. Paco was oneof the guest artists, and as he worked hismagic I realised that I had forecast themoment in a lyric I had written long ago. A guitar is a thief in the nightThat robs you of sleep through the wall A guitar is a thin box of lightThrowing reflections that rise and fallIt reminds you of Memphis or maybe Majorca Big Bill Broonzy or Garcia LorcaA truck going north or a cab to the Festival

HallAnd the man who plays the guitar for lifeTests his thumbs on a slender knifeForever caresses a frigid wifeHis fingers travel on strings and fretsLike a gambler’s moving to cover betsRemembering what his brain forgetsWhile his brain remembers the fears and

debts

Long fingernails that tap a brittle rhythm on aglass

Around his neck a ribbon with a little silverhook

Like some military order second classYou can read him like an open bookFrom the hands that spend their lives creating

tensionFrom the wrists that have a lean and hungryEyes that have a mean and angry look

A guitar is a thief in the nightThat robs you of sleep through the wallA guitar is a thin box of lightThrowing reflections that rise and fallA guitar reminds you of death and taxesCharlie Christian outplaying the saxesThe beginners’ call and the very last call of all

8. Driving Through MythicalAmerica 5.33Recorded on 16th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Clive Baker – trumpet, flugelhorn Alan Wakeman – tenor sax, flute Don Fay – tenor sax, bass clarinet Richard Ihnatowicz – baritone sax,clarinet

PA: On May 4th, 1970, at Kent StateUniversity in Ohio, there was a peacefulstudent protest at the recent Nixon-announced U.S. invasion of Cambodia. TheOhio National Guard were called out and intheir unwarranted panic they ended up

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But no dice, and if I’ll do it everI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago

4. The F lowers And The Wine 2.07Recorded on 23rd March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitars Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums

PA: This sad little scenario has turned outto be one of our most successful songs –successful in the attention it has drawnfrom other singers, at any rate. For me it’sthat image of the streetlights across theriver that keeps bringing me back to it.

CJ: Val Doonican sounded winninglysmooth when he covered this one, but youcan imagine my delight when I discoveredthat his writers had rewritten the lyrics ofthe bridge section in order toaccommodate Val’s own ideas of whatmight be poignant. In my own mind,however, the ringing of the cash registerdrowned out any yelps of pain.

Another night I’ve been to visit you and himComes to an endSwitch on the hallway lightFarewell a friend

Another night I bring the flowers and the wineHas slipped awayThere were only three to dineAnd two to stay

When you fix the dates for tête-à-têtes likethese

What tells you that I count the days betweenExcept my nothing-caring air of ease?

When clouds black out the moon that movesthe tide

What tells you there’s a river in the darkExcept the streetlights on the other side?

Another night I book a taxi door to doorHas been and goneI have never loved you moreSee you anon

5. Where Have They AllGone? 2.33Recorded on 16th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano Chris Spedding – electric guitar Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Alan Wakeman – tenor sax Don Fay – tenor sax Richard Ihnatowicz – baritone sax

PA: If you ever wondered what happened toThe Master Of The Revels, then here’s youranswer. If you didn’t, then it’s in the natureof the character to tell you anyway. Actually,it’s another one of those stories where youget the set-up and the aftermath but youhave to work out the middle bit for yourself.

CJ: I still love the way Pete made themusic move along with the pulse of a partythat never ends, but this is a lyric thatdemonstrates all too clearly why it is wisenever to revisit a theme except from adifferent angle. The narrator is the Master ofthe Revels all over again, only this time in

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a retake of the fluffed line, and I decided tolive with it, for better or worse. If only I’dscrewed up more badly, we’d have had togo again.

CJ: Pete is quite right to say that this songmarks the point at which we started to gofor broke. I had already done lyrics with amultiple time-frame but in this one I cut thetime-frames together without any linkingmaterial at all. so that the discontinuitybecame part of the subject. I could explaineach scene if I was held at gunpoint, butthe drama is meant to depend, in eachepisode, on the listener’s being forced toguess, and not having enough time tofigure it out because the music will not letup. One thing, however, I should makeclear: the linguistic trigger was those twomagnificent lines by Louis MacNeice aboutthe ancient world: “It was all sounimaginably different/ And all so long ago.”

I tried hard to be useful, but no diceWith no spit left I couldn’t soften leatherWith these old hands I couldn’t even sewSo yesterday they left me on the iceI could barely lift my head to watch them goThe sky was white, my eyes grew full of snowWhat thing reached me first, bears or the

weatherI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

I saw across our path through the lagoonThick shrubberies of hail collide and quarrelSudden trees of shellburst hump and blowOur LVT turned through the reef too soon

The front went down, we all got set to goBut the whole routine was just too bloody

slowWhat kind of splinters hit me, steel or coralI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

We hit the secret trails towards thin airAware we’d never live to tell the storyAnd at the last deep lake before the snowWe rigged the slings, chipped out the water-

stairSwung out the holy gold and let it goIt sank so far it didn’t even glowAnd if the priest died too to share our gloryI just don’t knowYesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

Yesterday we finished with the ditchWe stacked our spades and knelt in groups of

sevenOur hands were wired by an NCOWith a fluent-from-long-practice loop and

hitchNo dice – there was nothing left to throwA bump against your neck and down you goAnd if I kept my peace or cried to heavenI just don’t know Yesterday was oh so long ago – so very long

ago

Yesterday from midnight until dawnI lay remembering my lost endeavourThe love song that would capture how things

flowThe one song that refuses to be bornFor I have tried a thousand times or soTo link the ways men die with how they grow

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shooting four students dead and injuringnine more. The impact of this waspredictably enormous and not just onyoung people, amongst whom we stillcounted ourselves.

Clive’s resulting lyric was one of thefirst of several through the years where hejuxtaposes images and ideas from differenttimes in history, rather as W.H. Auden haddone in The Fall Of Rome. The song alsorepresents a view or an idea of Americagained from the outside; Clive had neverbeen to America when he wrote this.CJ: As Kafka and the young Brecht bothproved, the imaginary America, the one youhaven’t been to, can be even morepowerful in the mind than the reality. TheKent State disaster created, in my mind, avortex of centripetal energy that pulledsecond-hand vignettes together with suchforce that they fused, as if a junk-pile hadmelted. I don’t quite know how it happenedand I certainly never did anything quite likeit again, but I remain proud that youngerpeople still see something definite in itwhen all I remember is sitting around in atrance. My daughter Claerwen used thetitle for one of the abstract paintings in herfirst exhibition, and when I asked her why,she said something along the lines of “Dad,you don’t understand your own words.” Thenames of the cars are all wrong but thatwas because my memory had played metricks. Such details were far harder tocheck up on in at a time, now hard toimagine, before Google existed. Thegangster Eddie Prue is a figure of evil in a

novel by Raymond Chandler. There isnothing Eddie Prue won’t do. Pete’smelody, I think, irresistibly evokes a longcar-ride through many states to anappointment that would be better not kept.Four students in the usual light of daySet out to speak their minds about the warUnaware that Eddie Prue was on the wayThings had to snap before they knew the

score


A Rooney-Garland show was in the barnFields was at the Pussycat CafeNo-one had even heard of Herman KahnAnd Jersey Joe was eager for the fray

Four students had to take it in their strideAnd couldn’t feel the road beneath the wheelsOf the car they didn’t know they rode insideAcross the set and through the cardboard

hills


They sold their Studebaker Golden HawkAnd bought a Nash Ambassador SaloonBogart said “Even the dead can talk”And suddenly the coats were all raccoon

Four students never knew that this was itThere isn’t much a target needs to knowAlready Babyface had made the hitAnd Rosebud was upended in the snow


Gatsby floated broken in the poolThe Kansas City Seven found a grooveBarrymore and Lombard played the foolAnd Cheetah slowly taught John Wayne to

move14


15

Four students watched the soldiers load andaim

And never tumbled they were on the spotMoose Molloy pulled ten years on a frameThe dough was phoney and the car was hot


Henry Ford paid seven bucks a dayRockwell did the covers on the PostFDR set up the TVAAnd the stars rode silver trains from coast to

coast

Four students blinked at ordinary skies But the sunlight came from thousands of

motelsA highway through the night was in their eyes And waiting at the roadblock Orson Welles


Four students never guessed that they werethrough

Their history had them covered like a gunIt hit them like a bolt out of the blueToo quick to grasp and far too late to run

They crashed and died together in the sun


9. The Faded Mansion On The Hill 4.33Recorded on 25th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, electric piano Dave Bell – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: When we were writing this, my headjust happened to have been full of imagesfrom Raymond Chandler, and it took me a

pathetically long time to realise that ofcourse the main setting here is Sydneyharbour. Not that it matters. The song isabout home, the idea of home and thereality of home, and we can all put our ownpersonal gloss on that.

It’s the only song on this album withone of those Broadway-style introductoryverses before the song itself breaks out,but in this case I treated the verse musicallyalmost as a song in its own right, with amiddle eight and everything.

There’s another example here of thekind of problem I caused by mucking up aline on the take, the kind of problem eventhe genius of Roger Quested was unableto solve on No Dice. I messed up on theline “The cemetery of home couldsomehow soon be left for dead” too badlyto even think of leaving it uncorrected. So Ire-recorded just that line, but since onceagain I had been simultaneously singingand playing, the re-taken vocal includesnone of the spilled-over sound of the piano,hence the markedly different sound qualityon that line. We hoped that it might betaken as a deliberate and deucedly cleveracoustic effect. Well, I’ve blown that now.

CJ: As I remember it, I was the one whosaid that the noticeably different quality ofthe dropped-in line would register asdeliberate because it was too blatant to betaken any other way. I’m not here toembarrass Pete with flattery, but I wishthere were more critics who would,because I think the way he set the long

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and would certainly have slowed down thegetaway.

If you find me gone one dayAnd the sad songs left half-doneIt won’t be alone that I’ve gone awayBut a long way that I’ve run


If I fly the coop some timeAnd take nothing but a gripWith the few good books that really countIt’s a necessary trip


If one day you think me lostI’ll be thinking with each kissThat the wrecked man has been found at lastI waited too long for this


3. No Dice 6.02Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, piano Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: With hindsight, this song probablymarks the point at which we put aside theidea that we were or should be trying towrite songs for other singers to sing. Bynow I seemed to have at least some kind ofrecording future, so that our songs nowhad an outlet, and we could therefore feelfree to try something other than what might

be saleable – even if our saleability hadonly ever been in our own imaginationsanyway. I was stunned by the ambition ofthis one when Clive handed me the lyric:four dreadful deaths and a confession offailure to make sense of them. Not youreveryday chart material.

It was a challenge to set, that’s forsure. It certainly couldn’t afford to beelegiac. It had to drive. And each story hadto have a strong shape, so the tune foreach verse is a kind of continuouscomposition, with no repetitions until it getsto the tagline chorus – a repetition which Iconfess I manufactured.

I probably shouldn’t draw attention toit, but there’s a fluff in the vocal. The reasonI’ve had to live with it all these years is thatthe track is 100% as we performed it, mesinging and playing the piano along withthe other guys, and it is indeed the onlytake. Once again I’d written out detailedparts for everyone. We ran through the introand the first verse to get a balance, theright tempo, the feel of it, and someone – Ithink it was Herbie – said “Let’s go straightfor one, shall we?” So we did. They playedthe intro as I’d written it and then we wereoff, the remainder of my written fiddly bitstriumphantly ignored. It was one of themost exciting musical experiences I’ve everhad. It’s some kind of miracle that I made itthrough to the end of the take with only thatone stumble. But because I was singinglive at the piano, and the piano mikes hadinevitably picked up too much of the vocaland the band, it wasn’t possible to ‘drop in’

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5

The heroes return through the Sunset GateBut their faces are never the sameI have no idea why their eyes go coldAnd the young among them already look oldBut high behind them the sky’s aflameIn the flickering hour of their fame

2. The Pearl-Driller 2.24Recorded on 18th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano Alan Parker – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Barry Morgan – drums

PA: This is the first of the tracks where Igot to play with 75% of what was in effectthe Morgan Studios house band, who alsoconstituted the instrumental line-up of BlueMink (the missing 25% was AlanHawkshaw who later consoled himself atmissing out on my session by composingthe Countdown music for the Channel 4

game show). Right from the start it wasobvious to me how much I was benefitingfrom their familiarity with each other. Theyseemed to me to play with the fluency of areal band, rather than as a pick-up group ofmusicians, however good they might havebeen individually.

I remember watching TV in the SwissCottage flat one evening with Clive when ashort documentary about the pearlbusiness came on BBC2. The programmeemphasised the precise manual skillrequired in order to drill the pearls fornecklaces, and that this work was alwaysdone by women. I forget why, not that itmatters. I don’t think any of the women inthe film was wearing a gold silk jacket. Butthen our TV was black and white.

CJ: For the suitably retarded malementality, pretty female faces spark songs.Just for the record, however, the girl in

question had a silver silkjacket, not a gold one, andonly a madman would havegone with her anywhere. Theconsequence was a lyricwhich now seems to me asarch as the Admiralty. I try toblock it out by sticking myfinger in one ear whilelistening to the music with theother. But I still love, for all thewrong reasons, my idea of thegrip containing “the few goodbooks that really count.” Thegrip would have had to bebigger than a military kit-bag

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verse proves that he could havecomposed the melodically appealingoperas that so many famous modernopera composers patently couldn’t. In mynightmares I still meet an angry fan whodoesn’t realise that the “cats” arecatamarans, and I have to reassure himthat no animals were endangered in thecreation of this lyric.

When you see what can’t be helped go byWith bloody murder in its eyeAnd the mouth of a man put on the rackThe voice of a man about to crack

When you see the litter of their livesThe stupid children, bitter wivesYour self-esteem in disarrayYou do your best to climb awayFrom the streaming traffic of decay

Believing if you will that all these sick hatedays

Are just a kind of trick Fate playsBut still behind your shaded eyesThat mind-constricting thick weight stays

When on the outskirts of the townComes bumping cavernously downOut of the brick gatewaysFrom the faded mansion on the hillThe out-of-date black CadillacWith the old man crumpled in the backThat Time has not yet found the time to kill

Between the headlands to the sea the fleeingyachts of summer go

White as a sheet and faster than the drivensnow

Like dolphins riding high and giant seabirdsflying low

And square across the wind the cats andwingsails pull ahead

Living their day as if it almost could be saidThe cemetery of home could somehow soon

be left for dead

But the graveyard of tall ships is really hereWhere the grass breaks up the driveway more

each yearAnd here is all these people haveAnd everything they can’t believeThe beach the poor men never reachThe shore the rich men never leave

Between the headlands from the sea thehoming yachts of summer fill

The night with shouts and falling sails andthen are still

The avenues wind up into the darkness of thehill

Where Time tonight might find the time to kill

10. Practical Man 3.08Recorded on 23rd March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitars Dave Bell – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums

PA: I like to think that we were being at leastsomewhat ironic even as early as when wewrote this. My guess is that if any practicalman had made us an even vaguely similaroffer we’d have jumped up, saluted smartly,caved in, and sold out sharpish. As thingsturned out, we’ve been able to hang on to alofty but unconvincing disdain for the very idea.

CJ: Were I to be grilled by a pedant aboutthe imagery of this lyric, I might find myselfexplaining that the car with a turtle’s mind

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Morgan Studios building 2008


17

was a late, last flowering of my surrealistphase, whereas the waiters on the flamingswords were just a stroke ofphantasmagorical comedy. But I wouldhope to get the interrogation down to earthby pointing out that if the story line issimple and strong enough then it can bearany amount of rhetorical flash.

What Pete says about the central characteris all too true, alas. We both dreamed ofmeeting the mogul who would try to corruptus, but he never showed up.

Last night I drank with a practical manWho seemed to think he knew me wellHe had no debts and he had no troublesAll night long he kept setting up doublesAnd he asked me ‘What have you got to sell?’

‘I’ll see you right’ said the practical man‘A boy like you should be living highAll you do is get up and be funnyAnd I’ll turn the laughs into folding moneyCan you name me anything that can’t buy?’

‘So you deal in dreams’ said the practical man‘So does that mean you should be so coy?I fixed one chap a show on tellyWho limped like Byron and talked like ShelleyThrough a ten-part epic on the fall of Troy’

‘I’ll tell you what’ said the practical manAs he tapped the ash from a purple fag‘Let’s head uptown for a meal somewhereYou can sing me something while we’re

driving there

There’s a grand piano in the back of my Jag’

So I sang my song to the practical manIt sounded bad but she couldn’t hearAnd the silent lights of town went streamingAs if the car was a turtle dreamingThe night was sad and she was nowhere near

‘It’s a great idea’ said the practical manAs they brought in waiters on flaming swords‘You love this chick and it’s really magicBut she won’t play ball — that’s kind of tragicNow how do we get this concept on the

boards?’

‘I see it like this’ said the practical manAs he chose a trout from the restaurant pool‘We change it round so she’s going franticTo win the love of the last romanticAnd you’re the one, her wild creative fool’

So I thought it all over as the practical manWatched them slaughter the fatted calfI saw again her regretful smileSweet to look at though it meant denialIt was bound to hurt but I had to laugh

And that’s when I told the practical manAs he drank champagne from the Holy GrailThere are some ideas you can’t play round

withCan’t let go of and you can’t give ground with‘Cause when you die they’re what you’re

found withThere are just some songs that are not for

sale

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1. Sunlight Gate 3.47Recorded on 11th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Dennis Clift – trumpet Leon Calvert – flugelhorn Dai Davies – trombone Jim Wortley – bass trombone Richard Ihnatowicz – clarinet

PA: Since my student days I’d been a hugefan of Duke Ellington’s music – still am –not least for the way his and BillyStrayhorn’s arrangements were written for acollection of distinct, individual instrumentalvoices rather than simply for, say, a trumpetsection, a trombone section, and a saxsection. And then there were Gil Evans’sarrangements for Miles Davis and on hisown records, which extended that idea,adding in the sound of some supposedlynon-jazz instruments like bass trombone,flute, cor anglais, etc. A bit later I added thegreat New Zealand composer and arrangerMichael Gibbs to this pantheon. I neveraspired to writing jazz myself, but thisarrangement was an (extremely modest)attempt to recreate something like that kindof instrumental atmosphere.

I had written out a complete part forChris Spedding, intended more as anindication of the kind of thing I would likefrom him than as a strict set of instructions,but what he plays here is note-for-noteprecisely what I wrote for him.

Having played a classical guitarexclusively on Beware Of The BeautifulStranger, I’d now acquired a steel-stringjumbo, a Gibson SJN, to be my workhorseguitar, which it remained for the next 25years or so. But early in this first session Ibroke a string, and – I can hardly believethis now – I had brought no spares withme, so what you hear me play here, if itmatters, is Chris Spedding’s acoustic,which he’d brought along just in case.

CJ: The Vietnam war was in the air likesmoke at the time, but really all the wars arein the lyric. When I was very young, duringthe Korean war, there was a famous photoin Life magazine of a flight of F-80s headingout of Japan for the short flight to the battle.Included in the picture was the free-standing gate of a Shinto shrine. The photostayed in my mind. Even today I find thatimages seen in childhood come back totrigger an idea.

The heroes ride out through the SunlightGate

And out of the sunset returnI have no idea how they spend their dayWith a selfless act, or a grandstand playBut high behind them the sky will burnIn the glittering hour of return

The heroes ride out in unbroken ranksBut with gaps in their number come backI have no idea how they lose their menTo some new threat, or the same againBut they talk a long while near the weapon

stackIn the clattering hour they come back

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Most of thisalbum wasrecorded ‘as live’,i.e. with mesinging andplaying and all themusicians,including thebrass, etc.,playing in thestudio at thesame time,instead ofoverdubbingsome of themlater. I think theidea appealed tome (probably something about ‘feel’), but Iseem to remember that doing it had quite abit to do with cost: it was a way of avoidingthose extra sessions of expensivestudio time.

It did mean I had to be wellprepared, with full arrangementsworked out beforehand, parts writtenout and everything. There wasn’t timeto teach the musicians the songs andspend studio time working out what todo. It wasn’t a huge orchestra, but theline-up was big enough, especially withthe horns, to need some kind of aconductor in the studio, which couldn’tbe me if I was also going to be singingand playing, so Don Fraser came in tobring a bit of experience to that role.

Although as far as I know thefinished LP sold least well of all my

1970s albums, it’s always been the oneI’ve had the most enquiries about in allthe years of its unavailability. Maybe it’ssomething to do with these particularsongs, or maybe it’s something to dowith the terrific playing from a brilliantset of session musicians.

CJ: Despite the title, I don’t think thatany of my lyrics for the songs on thisalbum were aimed at an Americanaudience. They were aimed at whatpeople elsewhere thought of America.Partly because of the continuingVietnam disaster, America was in thenews every day. Although Pete hadbriefly toured the US with the Oxford

and Cambridge Shakespeare Company, Imyself still hadn’t been there. But theimagery, far from feeling second-hand,

seemed to be tobe happening allaround me. Lateron I realised thatwe were livingthrough theopening stages ofwhat we nowknow as theglobal mediahegemony andthe 24-hour newscycle.

Pete Atkin andClive James,November/December 2008

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11. Lady Of A Day 2.34Recorded on 11th March 1971Pete Atkin – vocals, piano, acoustic guitar Chris Spedding – electric guitar Herbie Flowers – bass guitar Kenny Clare – drums Dennis Clift – trumpet Leon Calvert – trumpet Dai Davies – trombone Jim Wortley – bass trombone Richard Ihnatowicz – clarinet

PA: This one’s a bit unusual harmonically,at least in the accompanying chords. They’reall based, for what little it’s worth, on awhole-tone scale, i.e. F, G, A, B, D flat, andE flat. I was just messing about really and Iliked the kind of uncertain, spacey, un-joined-up feeling which that gave. And theshiny, unsentimental brass seemed right too.

CJ: The word “gay” was still available tobe used without gender-based overtones inthose days. Autres temps, autres moeurs,as we used to say at the milk bar acrossfrom Kogarah railway station. Live longenough and your vocabulary will date you,but if you try to fix it up the repairs mightlook more conspicuous than the damage.“There’s a bar in far Mumbai…”

And so goodbye, my lady of a dayNow let your step be long and now your laugh

be gayIt’s only right that everything went wrongIt couldn’t happen any other way

A thousand miles east, the lovers sayIt’s written in the sky with stars that lead away

It couldn’t happen to a nicer guyA nicer girl, my lady of a day

Through screens of memory you leave meSmile on the screen behindAnd then the screen behind the screen

behind the screenBut nothing alters what has beenNor do my eyes deceive me

And so goodbye, my lady of a nightNow let your head be clear and now your

smile brightAs hour by day by week by month by yearYou dim but never wholly disappearOn the curving path away from my delight

Bonus demo12. Practical Man 2.31Recorded at City of London Recording Studio,Osborn Street, London EC1 on 3rd February1969Pete Atkin – vocal, guitar Steve Cook – bass

PA: In common with most of the demosappended to “Beware Of The BeautifulStranger”, this track comes from my secondprivately pressed LP “The Party’s MovingOn” from 1969. Again I should apologisefor the sound quality because the originalreel-to-reel tapes disappeared a long timeago and this copy has been taken from oneof the very few vinyl copies I can still layhands on.

All songs published by Onward Music Ltd,except tracks 1, 2, 3 and 9 published byWestminster Music Ltd.

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Project co-ordination – Val Jennings CD package – Jools at Mac Concept CD mastering – Alchemy Ephemera courtesy of the collections of Pete Atkin and Clive JamesCD front cover main photo and strapline photo –Sophie BakerHuge thanks – Pete Atkin, Clive James, Simon Platz, Steve Birkill, Ronen Guhaand Caroline Cook

For everything (and we mean everything) relating toPete Atkin’s works, visit www.peteatkin.com, butmake sure you’ve got plenty of time to spend! Then of course, you’ll want to visitwww.clivejames.com

Pete Atkin’s albums on the Edsel label: Beware Of The Beautiful Stranger…plus[EDSS 1029] Driving Through Mythical America[EDSS 1030] A King At Nightfall…plus + The Road Of Silk [2 CD] [EDSD 2028] Secret Drinker + Live Libel[2 CD] [EDSD 2029]

Visit www.demonmusicgroup.co.uk for the Edsel catalogue and the many other fine labels thatmake up the Demon Music Group.

Tracks 1 – 11 licensed by Fly Records. Fly Records is adivision of Onward Music Ltd. p 2009 Onward Music Ltdunder licence to Demon Music Group Ltd. © 2009 OnwardMusic Ltd/Demon Music Group Ltd. Track 12 issued underlicence from Pete Atkin. Track 12 p & © 1969 Pete Atkin.Marketed by Edsel Records, a division of the Demon MusicGroup Ltd, London, W1W 7TL. The Demon Music Group isa 2 entertain company. Manufactured in the EU.

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Driving Through MythicalAmerica Philips 6308 070, 1971. Re-issued on RCASF 8386 in 1973 in a re-designed sleeve.

Lyrics – Clive JamesMusic and arrangements – Pete Atkin

Conducted by Don Fraser Produced by Don Paul Engineered by Roger Quested Recorded at Studio 1,Morgan Studios,Willesden, LondonNW10, in March 1971 Original album designby Pat Doyle

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PA: What turned out to be my first LP onFontana, Beware Of The BeautifulStranger, was recorded originally as demosfor the publishers Essex Music. Itscommercial release had a lot to do with theenthusiasm of Kenny Everett, and itreceived enough positive attention forEssex to be interested in having me makeanother one.

By now (1970) I was sharing a flat inSwiss Cottage with a bunch of othernewcomers to London including Clive, whorented a room as his weekday Londonwriting base, so he and I had plenty ofregular contact for the to-and-fro of writingsongs. We already had more than enoughsongs ready and waiting for a new album,with more always on the go.

For the new LP there was a bigenough budget to allow me to use a biggerstudio and more musicians, not big enoughto go mad – or even mildly eccentric in anendearing rock-and-roll kind of a way – butbig enough to make a difference to thesound and feel of the recording, enough,

with luck, to make it sound morelike a ‘proper’ record and less like aset of demos. That first album hadbeen, accidentally and necessarily,all acoustic, and I’d since begun tobuild up a bit of a following playingacoustically mainly in folk clubs, so Idid wonder idly if this might be myBob-Dylan-goes-electric moment,but the truth is I don’t think anyonewas that bothered, what with menot actually being Bob Dylan and all.


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EDSS 1030 The Songs Of PETE ATKIN & CLIVE JAMES


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EDSS 1030 PA DTMA booklet 9/1/09 10:28 Page 2 · PDF file · 2016-10-15all acoustic, and I’d since begun to ... shiny, unsentimental brass seemed right too. CJ: ... EDSS 1030 PA