Bobby Womack: God, mental health and Walthamstow

Bobby Womack’s final album, ‘The Bravest Man in the Universe’, contains one of the most emotionally honest and powerful vocal performances I have ever heard. Right off the bat ‘Please Forgive my Heart’ overwhelmed me, and it still does every time I hear it. “Please forgive my heart,” sings Womack, “It's not that the problem lies anywhere in there.” When he follows that by confessing “I’m a liar, I’m in a dream, Goin’ on my way, Nothing to rely on”, you know you’re witnessing a very private moment. I guess that not all will relate “the problem” he refers to as about mental health, but I think it’s an admittance that there are things that prevent us from loving because we cannot trust, or rely on, ourselves, let alone others. As Bobby sings in the song's second verse: "Oh, it feels like the sky is falling, And the clouds, clouds are closing in, Where did I lose control? Where did it all begin?"

I hope to God that I am not cheapening his divinely honest confessional by attempting such commonplace analysis. I somehow though need to express how it feels, thank God, to still be overwhelmed, to be brought literally to my knees, by playing such songs. I used to think that there were only a handful of singers, all white contemporaries of Mr Womack, who could, on occasion, work this kind of earthly divinity, this sacred and profane magic. It’s there in Dylan’s testament, ‘Every Grain of Sand’; Van Morrison had it on ‘Listen to the Lion’; and you can feel it when John Martyn preached ‘One World’. 

But Bobby Womack lived the religious emotion of the everyday right from childhood. He was no latter-day convert. Nearly four decades before Bobby Womack died he sang that “Love is the emblem of eternity.” You’ve got to believe that if you’re hurting big time. And the fact that he included that line on a funky number entitled ‘Jealous Love’ (from ‘What is the World Coming To?’) showed that he was a person, and an artist, who didn’t believe in siloing his emotions or his motivations.

Bobby Womack is a man very aware of his mortality on ‘The Bravest Man in the Universe’ (released 2012), but he sounded as alive and as exciting as ever. Credit is also due to former Blur front-man Damon Albarn, who wrote most of its songs including ‘Please Forgive My Heart’. However it’s plain on listening to the album’s carefully crafted retrospective but ultra-modern feel (Albarn also co-produced the album with XL Records founder Richard Russell) that the words were written with Womack in mind. The songs catalogue the singer’s belief in forgiveness ('The bravest man in the universe is the one who has forgiven first'), love, and, yes when necessary, serving yourself. 

Bobby Womack died in June 2014, two weeks or so before he’d been scheduled, implausibly, to headline that year's Walthamstow Garden Party. I still went, marvelling at the incredibly empty experience of hearing last minute replacements, the Brand New Heavies, trying to enliven the audience. Bobby Womack had had more than five decades in the business, as both a songwriter whose songs were popularised by many black (and some white) stars, and as a soul singer who had been (musically) born again several times over. If he’d had the strength to perform ‘Please Forgive My Heart’ with the feeling he conveys on the original, and to a field of Walthamstow revellers, would they have understood? Or would they have run screaming for the exits, as was once said of Laurence Olivier if he’d really turned up the acting volume. We shall never know. However I am grateful for Bobby Womack’s wonderful songs and for his wondrous voice. But I am most grateful for ‘Please Forgive My Heart’ because today it made me cry as I was reminded of the God-given gift of those artists who can use our tenderest feelings to lift us up from the floor and take us to the heavens. If only for a while.

Family duties

It’s a New Year and in a few months time it will be my 50^th. Yet I am not sure what will have changed by the time I reach that particular milestone. Too much time on my own to think, perhaps. For when I am not writing about the Gulf from the vantage point of Walthamstow, I am wondering what the point of any of it is. The book will provide something different for those who are so inclined. In the context of recent family events, and an inability to believe the future will be profoundly different, my enthusiasm sometimes wanes. If I don’t have a runner in the Mid-East race, and if I don’t feel a desperate desire or ability to reveal some hitherto unrevealed truth about it, then it is perhaps unsurprising if I am not always totally fired-up about my professional duties.  

Aside from that, the great escape (to where?) has been indefinitely postponed. I am childless, yet tied to family. Without family, yet performing family duties. What a strange state to be in. My mother died 15 months ago and I am still waiting for the headstone. Without parents I have no one to cry to. As a child I cried to my parents. As an adolescent I needed to cry to someone else about my parents… I found Jesus. As a young man I turned away from fathers, holy and unholy. As a middle aged man my parents began to need me to cry to…about themselves, about each other. In the last five years I have buried them both. I may never see my brother again. I am happily married to the woman who has been my closest friend for more than two decades. I am lucky. This is narcissistic, attention-seeking, nonsense.  

Cheesecloth rock in the New Year in the Stow

Cheesecloth are an East London/Essex band who specialise in highly competent covers of mildly obscure ‘70s songs. Fans of the band helped to fill out the Ye Olde Rose n’ Crown pub in Walthamstow this New Year’s Eve. However many of the revellers turned up before tickets were required for entry and were plainly content to just drink, regardless of what was going down on stage.

This band of middle aged males and a young female keyboardist are passionate and engaged, and some of the songs they covered were bold if not borderline ambitious. Bowie’s “Drive in Saturday” was a notably entry in the latter category. Even that did not faze them. More typical pub rock fodder were their faithful versions of the Stones’ “Dead Flowers”, McGuiness Flint’s “When I’m Dead and Gone” and Ronnie Lane’s “How Come?” 

The problem, at least for those who lacked the dedication of those, like me, who were dancing down the front, was that many of the numbers required a minimum age of at least 50, and a functioning memory, to mean very much. That, the fact that some of the songs are relatively laid-back, and the understandable desire of many to just booze on an occasion traditionally dedicated to the same, meant that, however hard Cheesecloth worked, they were often, inevitably perhaps, falling on deaf ears. However, as the pace and revelry built up toward midnight, the number of those dancing steadily increased. After the cheers for the New Year rang out, and the band took another well-earned break, “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” was played over the PA. It’s never sounded so good…(hic)….

Consisting, on New Year's Eve at least, of Ian on lead vocals and guitar, Danny (bass), Holly (keyboards), Pete (drums), John (guitar), and Huw (harmonica), Cheesecloth are well worth checking out if this kind of music and pubs in the East and North East London area are your bag. Their manager, and such was the enthusiasm down the front, bouncer, is Ian Blowes. In the latter capacity he was working pretty hard, so much that he performed the only on-stage wardrobe change of the night.

If I have any criticism it is the of the band’s name, which used to make me imagine that they do covers of Brotherhood of Man songs. However it’s memorable and they’ve had it for a while, so, like their material, why bother changing a good thing?

The E17 Summer Art Show - Penny Fielding’s Interiors, Walthamstow, London

More than 100 pictures from over 80 artists, this show has a lot of material and some of it is actually rather good. However attending the opening in a shop in Walthamstow Village was an arduous experience. Popularity is no bad thing of course. Penny Fielding has managed to cram in a lot of new work alongside the clothes, ornaments, cards et al that her shop ordinarily features. However somehow the heat, the sheer volume (in all senses) of Village people, and £4 quid for a glass of average plonk somewhat put me off of proceedings.

If you peer carefully among the vast quantity of stuff housed in such a small space, you will see some very good work among the sometimes quite ordinary stuff. A striking painted image (see above) of a literary figure (?), a new Anna Allcock, impressive wood block prints, distressed photographs (whatever they are), and straight ahead middle brow work that would suit the unthinking home maker. It’s all here. If the exhibition gets its informational side together – the guide is part catalogue, part builder’s floor plan – the experience will no doubt be enhanced.

Peter Case Live at the Birkbeck Tavern E11

Peter Case is a totally new discovery to me, as was the venue at which he played last night, the Birkbeck Tavern in Leyton, East London. This American, now self-styled “folk rock” artist, sang solo for about 45 minutes – every number was a corker, and some were quite brilliant. Due to the unfamiliarity of the songs, I cannot relay to you the titles, save the Beatles number, which given Case's lo-fi orientation was fairly obscure even to the English punters – “Not a Second Time”, from their second album.

One number that especially stood out was when Peter deployed Biblical-style lyrical referencing before breaking half-way for a snatch of Thelonious Monk. This is was a man armed only with an acoustic guitar; oh, and an extraordinarily good voice. His set was nothing less than compelling.

I have to confess something here. If anyone present last night is reading this, I was the goon who shouted out “What about the Blondie song?” when Mr Case asked, in a deadpan, droll delivery that made his between numbers chat highly entertaining, “Any questions?”. He never really intended to play “Hanging on the Telephone,” and I don’t blame him. He has done a whole lot more since those days. Yet I was there because the blurb from What’s Cookin’ (the cover-all name for the music nights at the Birkbeck) had mentioned that an early band of his, The Nerves, had first written and performed it back in 1976. I had always thought it was Chris Stein and Debbie Harry.

Peter Case apparently had a formidable career with power pop and proto-punk outfits, The Nerves and The Plimsouls. Great names and no doubt great bands. Since the 1980s he has obviously reinvented himself - as a skilled finger-picking folk and country player, and, from time to time, a blues man. It seems he can range pretty widely. Seeing him play for free in a Leyton pub, when I have since discovered he has umpteen albums under his belt, including for majors like Geffen, was quite a privilege.

His website reveals that this is a guy who has no time for BS and his musical favourites reflect that. I sometimes was reminded of Loudon Wainwright III, although I doubt he relates to him. Peter can storytell, but he can also play like a motherfuck. Introducing a blues number that Memphis Minnie had sung, he told us of the driver of a then 90 year old blues legend, Honey Boy Edwards. Case met the driver, a mere 70 year old, on the trail somewhere when he was still driving for Honey Boy, and he apparently had also known (driven for?) fellow Clarkesdale performer, Robert Johnson. There was a strong sense of musical legacy here, although Mr Case is a mere 54 year old.

Toward the end of his set a collection went round (I owe you Peter). This was for all three acts on the bill. It struck me that this form of payment, and the venue itself, was a much better way to do a “roots night” than Walthamstow’s would-be premier music venue, Ye Olde Rose and Crown (see Folk Night/Stow Festival review below). The Birkbeck seems like the real deal, the punters were packed in but not too tightly, beer glasses in hand, and the music was cool. Let’s hope the yummie mummies and daddies at the upstairs theatre at Ye Olde Rose and Crown don’t get wind of this.

Peter finished off by dueting with Michael Weston King. I only caught the last three numbers of Michael’s set so I can’t give a proper assessment (I entirely missed the first singer, local boy Benjamin Folke Thomas). Formerly with The Good Sons, a 1990s alt-country band, Mr Weston King too has a fine voice and also accompanies himself on acoustic. There is definitely an air of the Texan singer Townes Van Zandt about him (Van Zandt even covered one of his sons, “Riding the Range”). He should be American but his between songs patter sure made him sound like an Anglo (as did his plugging of a benefit CD on which he sings the title track We're All in it Together, for the financially troubled Morning Star newspaper). He and Case finished the night in a suitably rousing fashion to send us on our way.

These events need supporting, not least as the pub itself is threatened with closure. If you're in London get over there, especially on Wednesday evenings and alternate Saturday and Sundays when much of the roots material is aired. 

Stow Festival Ye Olde Rose & Crown 21st September 2012.

Having waited over an hour past the scheduled time to be allowed to pay my £5 and go upstairs to the Theatre at Ye Olde Rose & Crown on the second night of Stow Festival, I was not in the best mood to appreciate the promised night of folkish delights. 

I sat frustratedly through a solo set by a very pleasant woman called Sarah (aka “Bobbing for Apples”) that suffered from feedback that an hour of extra sound checking had not rectified. Audience reaction divided between semi pissed camp followers and polite applause for someone trying hard in very trying circumstances. She was actually a lot better when she really performed genuinely unplugged to avoid the feedback. Sarah was followed by a better but still mixed performance from another solo performer, Blabbermouth (a name more apt for the compere Paul Mosley). His set was better if a tad over earnest.

I was in need of something distinctly good to bother sticking around any longer in this hot and socially exclusive theatre room. Local band Candidate (see pic above) got off to a bit of a shaky start, but hit their stride half way through. Some nice Byrds-like arpeggio guitar and genuinely tuneful and emotionally engaged performances upped the quality of this gig no end. According to the band’s lead singer who I met earlier, few people like them except some comedian bloke who writes in The Grauniad called Stewart Lee. I think they deserve a wider blessing than him.

Moses (see pics above), a now E17 based but originally Huddersfield folk combo, I think, were apparently re-crossing some particular epic journey to grace us with their presence after 10 years apart (or so I could gleam from the onstage and rather cliquey banter by some of the blokes in the band with their dedicated followers).  Paul Mosley turned out to be their lead singer but even he, the night’s organiser, didn’t condescend to say what the name of his band actually was. I had to work it out from the description of their set in the programme. They were good, however, albeit that their incessant upbeat rootsy rousing performances occasionally seemed a bit forced, a bit like much New Folk in general (c.f. the Mumfords). The guitarist has the making of a good stand up comic, shame he didn’t do a warm-up while we were waiting for the gig to start. 

I can’t say if From The Deep, the final act (as billed), performing some kind of “swampy blues”, appeared or if they were any good as I had exited by this point. My problem that, and the late start. I think these gigs need better organisation, better sound engineers and a higher quality threshold for some of acts. Remember, Stow Fest/Ye Olde Rose & Crown organisers, some punters are paying, not (as elsewhere) cocking an occasional ear from the luxury of the bar.

Stow Festival 2012

The four day Stow Festival
kicked off Thursday night (20.9.12) with a selection of gigs in pubs and clubs across, unsurprisingly, Walthamstow. I got to see two. Not at the same time you understand, but by cycling fast under the influence. I was initially waylaid in Billy the Builders Bar in Clapton where I got bored waiting for a would be Django Reinhardt to appear and peddled back to E17.

The Duke’s Head (established 1837 it says above the stage; I think that’s actually when Wellington took command of the British armed forces) is in Wood Street. This is apparently now a regular free music venue whose threshold I had not crossed until walking into The Irregulars in full pelt. The Irregulars are a ska band specialising, it seems, in songs from “The Harder They Come” Soundtrack, some late 70s early 80s ska revival covers, and some obscurer numbers, obscure to me at least. There were quite a few ageing rude boys in attendance (all terribly polite these days), quite a few regular drinkers, and a few not so “local” looking people. There was a great atmosphere and the almost all-white band could play alright. Reflecting the inclusive spirit of the now rather old UK ska revival, not all the punters were white I am pleased to say.

I entered on “Miss Jah-Maica” (ouch) and exited on “Too Much Too Young”. There were two Beat covers as well, but sadly no “Stand Down Margaret” (she is reborn, no?). The evening was a lot of fun. Beer, like in so many pubs in the Stow, is not cheap at the Duke, but worth it perhaps if other bands who play here are of this calibre.

My next and final stop of the night was The Victoria. Once feared by “non-locals”, this upstairs and out of the way place on Hoe Street is actually a refreshing change from the more renowned music and arts venues such as Ye Olde Rose and Crowne where beer is pricey, gigs (like during the Stow Festival) are often in the theatre upstairs and therefore not free, and it’s not that easy to get a drink when busy. The Victoria has taken to holding Glam-Jam nights on Saturday that also charge, but offer an entertainment and a songbook hard to find elsewhere in Walthamstow.

The Victoria last night was hosting a free performance by Los Otros (see pics above; sadly taken after the event). They are modern jazz band with a front man with more than a touch of the trad about him. I only caught the last three numbers so it’s hard to judge the performance properly, but these boys can certainly play. A young tenor sax player (Polish, so I was informed) with good feel, and a very able drummer, double bass player and pianist who soloed to great effect. The bass man had more than a passing resemblance to Steve Howe from Yes (the band that couldn’t say “no”), which threw me somewhat. The front man sings at some distance from the mic which allows his voice, more a whisper than technically brilliant, to work to full atmospheric effect on top of, but not overly dominating, the excellent players. They finished with “All Blues”. I didn’t expect to hear a track from Miles Davis’ "Kind of Blue" album in The Victoria. Excellent.

http://www.stowfestival.com/