World’s Greatest City?

I went with friends to Tate Britian to see the Hurvin Anderson exhibition. The show has now closed, but it was a fine exhibition by an Anglo-Caribbean artist who was brought up in Birmingham. The pictures had a slightly evasive feel. You got the sense that the artist was not entirely comfortable as a Jamaican or as a Brit. Some of his works are very fine paintings indeed but they keep the viewer at arms-length. One of my friends, born in the UK but from an Indian family, made the point that’s how it often feels as an ex-pat. There is a persistent low level of disconnect or unease.

My family and I lived and worked in Bangkok for eight years. When our daughter reached the age of twelve, we decided to debunk back to London. We’d met many so-called third country kids, who called their parent’s home their home even if they hardly knew it at all. It made then all somewhat rootless. We didn’t want that for our daughter.

After visiting the exhibition, we went to the cafe at the gallery and continued our conversations which soon became hi-jacked by the topic of London, the city where we all live. Throughout many of these posts I’ve made my love for the place very clear, so I don’t need to rehearse those arguments again.

Finishing our coffee we all walked back over Vauxhall Bridge to our homes. Later that afternoon one of them sent me the FT article which you can see above. It starts:

An evening walk through Islington with an Australian friend. He looks around at the Georgian facades, at the Lime-biking locals, and grows ruminative. “They say it’s the best city in the world …I wait for the counter-argument. … but they don’t say it enough.

So, I think we know where he stands but what I found interesting were his suggestions for the two main contenders. Perhaps because it’s the FT, a paper with more than a passing interest in money, the clue is in the name, he suggested Singapore and Dubai.

I’ve worked in both cities and the idea that either could ever become the greatest city in the world seems fanciful. Dubai is endless roads through a desert with each skyrise madder and more ugly than the last. Of course, their tourist trade has been decapitated on account of President Trump’s special military operation in Iran and the subsequent drone attacks on US allies in the region. As to Singapore, in many ways it’s a beautiful place, but small and has more banking culture than indigenous culture. To anyone who has lived out east it’s ‘Asia Light’ not the full fat version as experienced in Bangkok or Kuala Lumpur.

It’s hard to argue with the FT writer when he says this: A city has to be rich for centuries, not decades, to accrue the sheer quantity of stuff that makes it the best, or at least most complete. Live in one, and the notion of western decline can feel abstract and remote.

I remember when first moving to Bangkok and going to their National Gallery, without wishing to be unkind the was no picture of world class importance. Don’t get me wrong I loved living in Thailand, which is stuffed full of intriguing local culture, but the world’s greatest city? Not by a mile.

I always used to say that New York was my other favourite city, but like many I wouldn’t choose to visit there now on account of the present administration. How do you make an enemy of Canada for goodness sake? So, for now it’s London, but hang on what about Paris? I leave it to you to decide.

Little London Reboot

Perhaps there’s more to be written about this sun soaked, and currently desiccated city. Will the rain ever come?

My 1976 Cropredy Cottage

I’m old enough to remember the summer of 1976 where there were endless days of summer sun. One day piling up on the next where the only clothing was shorts and T shirts.  I was still a year away from moving to London and living in the countryside in a little village near Banbury in the Midlands.

I had set myself the task of putting together a world beating rock and roll band with jazz stylings just as the whole punk thing got underway. I remember being spat on at one of our gigs which was probably no more than our music deserved.

Just a few days ago with the family away I took the car and the dog back up the M40 to see the old village. Unfortunately, there was a dreadful accident on the motorway which meant the journey took five hours and frankly ruined much of the pleasure of being back.

I knocked on the door of my old cottage and was welcomed in by a pleasant woman only to find the place a wreck and populated by half a dozen large dogs. I paid my respects to my twenty-two-year-old self and left. The village was still beautiful with many of the houses built with honey-coloured Northampton stone along with the Grand Union Canal drifting by. I met one of the longboatmen who told me the canal was now shut due to lack of water.

The waterboatman was there for the Fairport Cropredy Festival that was to take place on the following weekend. My band, the elegantly titled Cat’s Cradle, played at the very first Cropredy festival in the summer of seventy-six. I had hopes and dreams.

So, not the most successful of trips and perhaps a lesson for me not to wallow in nostalgia. I think it was the god’s way of telling me to stop looking in the rear-view mirror and power on to the next great thing whatever that may be.

In 1976 the weather finally broke on 27th August, and we were subsequently drenched in rain for two months. Some hapless, but now long forgotten, politician was made drought minister who encouraged us to save water and bath with a friend. How we laughed. Once the deluge came and the rivers broke their banks he was resurrected as minster for floods. I’m writing this on the 18th August and await the 27th with some trepidation.

As I recall, the summer of 1977 was much cooler and wetter. Elvis died and the UK became obsessed with Queen Elizabeth’s Silver Jubilee celebrations. And punk at its full bondage and razorblade peak delivered the coup de grace to my band. After much trepidation the decision was made to move to London.

Somehow, I found a house to rent on Royal College Street in Camden town. There must have been a music business connection as the property was owned by Al Stewart’s manager who at the time was swimming in cash as Year of the Cat had been a big hit.

I shared the house with James and four others whose names seem to have evaporated. There was a fancy clothes shop over the road called Swanky Modes which maybe one person remembers. James and I used to go to the Old Eagle of an evening and play bar billiards. Perhaps I’ll dig a bit further into old-timey London on some future occasion.

Those with better mathematical skills than I will have already spotted that I moved to London fifty years ago in the Autumn of next year. A decision that I have never once regretted.

New single; ‘Get a little life’

Liner Notes

I’ve got a new single coming out on 5th July. Yes, just a day after the election! It’s called ‘Get a little life’ and as with all my recent releases, was recorded at Mustard Seed studios in Stratford, East London. The song was recorded and mixed by Dom Clark. He also plays trumpet on the song. The drums were whacked by Ian Pakes.

The song features the wonderful guitar work of Adam Philips who doesn’t have any truck with that social media nonsense but can be heard around the clubs of London playing with the likes of Hamish Stuart and Dave Lewis’ One Up.

This will probably be my last release for a while as I seem to have hit a blank spot when it comes to writing new tunes. To spur on some creativity, I’m currently learning to play piano which, and I think this has been recognised before, is bloody impossible. So, I’m grinding the nerves of my family, neighbours and the dog playing the keyboard.

When the song comes out, please give it a listen and perhaps add it to one of your playlists. It’s on all the usual streaming services.

Here are the lyrics, time signature and chords

Get a little life

6/8 95 BPM

F                   Dm                 B/G            Bflat 7

Get a little house in the centre of town

F                   Dm                 B/G            Bflat 7

Get a little dog straight from the pound

Am                              G  

Get a little money, get a little strife

Bflat 7                           C7                                                                                 

Get a little love into your life

Get a little joy in your soul

Go find someone make you feel whole

Get a little thrill, hand in glove

Get a little life get a little love

In the heart of the city, in the heart of town

Find somewhere to lay your head down

All that noise there’s comfort to be found

Your head in the clouds, your feet on the ground

Get a little wisdom, get a little sense

Go find someone, come to your defence 

Get a little peace in troubled times

Gonna be heart break somewhere down the line

Love came in

Love came in