single father

It must have been October 1973.  The Locarno (The Mecca) in Stevenage realised that the Monday and Thursday disco nights were not bringing in the readies - that, or they realised rock bands were a potential source of income.  Man, that well known Welsh band - "Britain's answer to The Grateful Dead" - were touring.  According to Deke Leonard in Whinos, Rhinos and Lunatics: The Legend of Man A Rock'n'Roll Band, the line-up was Man, Iceberg, Vyvyan Morris and John St Field.  Remember that last one.

It was a great gig - everyone in the audience enjoyed it (well, we all did) and Man played C'mon, Spunk Rock and definitely, Bananas.  We knew something was going on, though.  Evidently, "John St Field" poured a glass of beer over the Locarno manager who was complaining about the smoking of some herbal refreshments (this is possibly apocryphal) and the whole tour was banned from future gigs on the Locarno (Mecca) circuit.  As I said, it could be apocryphal but I seem to remember reports in Melody Maker.  Evidently, they never played the Mecca circuit again.

Time shift - many years later.  The year 2000.  Uncut magazine has a habit of giving cds away with each edition to engage its readers with the music mentioned within its hallowed pages.  I found a song called Single Father by Jackie Leven, aka John St Field.  Once of punk band Doll By Doll.

And what a song.

I found it again tonight for some reason or other.  What a song.

If we should meet in Glasgow

by chance on a rainy day

let's sit and drink in a damn good bar

till evening comes out to play

And there are things I don't want to talk about

things I don't want to say

twisted spires and lonely byres

and fishing boats in winter spray

I was a single father

And those were real harsh times

I remember losing my baby

everytime I hear a church bell chime

I was a single father

but I just can't complain

got a heart full of headstones

as I step down from the train

We walked down a leafy ravine

into a cloud of dragonflies

you pointed your finger in wonder

at the colours in the sky

You sat in your chair on the beach

I waved to you from the sea

you saw the wave and smiled

you were already lost to me

I was a single father

Now my son's in the English army

he plays the guitar well

I almost never see him

I walk alone on the distant fell

Now half the world is working

half is watching tv

some take smack and fall right back

it's all the same to me

I was a single father

Jackie Leven is a poet as well as a songwriter.  He has a poet's sensibilities.  I don't listen to him that much these days - I find it difficult to keep up with prolific writers.  Perhaps I prefer the obscurity of those who produce a small body of work.  However, I believe that Ian Rankin is a fan.

However.

However, this song is wonderful.  It starts in a child's nursery rhyme way.  It's basically a shuffle - guitar, bass, drums and some keyboards.  Leven tends to sing songs in a light way - he's telling a story.  I don't know how autobiographical they are.  The chorus ("I remember losing my baby") is backed up by David Thomas (of Pere Ubu - great duet of You've Lost That Loving Feeling on this album).  There's not a lot to this song, and to be truthful I don't know why I love it so much.  I guess it's because it sounds upbeat despite being about loss.

There's been a lot of loss in my life - and I'm sure we've all had a lot of loss.  I haven't lost children, thank whatever diety you prefer - in this current climate perhaps this song could be from the point of view of a single parent who's had a double loss.  The loss of the child as he becomes a single parent.  And then the loss of the child as the child grows up to become a soldier - it sounds to me like a return to the Old Town to come back to a funeral.  And the memories therein.

The album is called Defending Ancient Springs.  If you are aware of David Thomas, you'll like his influence. 

Everytime I go back home to Stevenage I have a "heart full of headstones".

There are things I don't want to talk about
Things I don't want to say.