Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part Three)

Ian Dury may have arrived commercially via the Punk and New Wave explosion of the late 70s, but his music always felt gloriously old to me.

What a wonderfully odd star he was. He may have been physically compromised by a childhood bout with polio, but he was a vibrant and commanding presence, both on stage, and off. His records would share bin space with bands made up of snotty-nosed punks with their practised sneers and three-chord workouts, yet he was already as old as some of their dads.

He came across as more vaudeville than punk rock, yet he was afforded much respect from punky punters and performers alike. Rather than speedy, anger-fueled faux-anarchy tales, though, Ian came armed with crafty songs that were ripe with bawdy humour and a sort of cheeky old-time music hall sensibility.

The colourful characters in Dury's vignettes — Plaistow Patricia, Clever Trevor, Billericay Dickie et al — were rough around the edges to be sure, but even with his gruff, often half-spoken and occasionally profane vocal delivery, there was always the sense that he was singing with affection, and it all had this sort of positive, life-affirming quality about it; a gentle naughtiness that warms the cockles to this day.

"Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part Three)" came hot on the heels of his UK chart-topper "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick", and it's basically a jumbled list of ...well, reasons to be cheerful. Hard to argue with that, really. Hard to argue with the musical delivery either, as it happens. Dury recites (some might say, raps) over a stellar, funky (some might even say disco) backing, courtesy of his always brilliant band, The Blockheads, and although it's not really even my favourite song of his — that honour most likely goes to the lovely "You'll See Glimpses" — but it's still a little gem. Like most of Ian's music, it still makes me smile whenever it floats by. I really wish we still had him around.

Apparently, Ian Dury once declined an invitation from Andrew Lloyd Webber to write the lyrics for "Cats", ostensibly turning down a small fortune in the process. His response when asked for a reason, was simple and brutally honest — "I hate Andrew Lloyd Webber. He's a wanker, isn't he?".

That just might be more "punk" than anything Johnny Rotten ever did.

Listen Here


Why don't you get back into bed?
Reasons to be cheerful part 3

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Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly
Good golly Miss Molly and boats
Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet
Jump back in the alley and nanny goats

18-wheeler Scammels, Domenecker camels
All other mammals plus equal votes
Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willy
Being rather silly, and porridge oats

A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it
You're welcome, we can spare it - yellow socks
Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty
Going on 40 - no electric shocks

The juice of the carrot, the smile of the parrot
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks
Elvis and Scotty, days when I ain't spotty,
Sitting on the potty - curing smallpox

Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3

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Reasons to be cheerful part 3

Health service glasses
Gigolos and brasses
round or skinny bottoms

Take your mum to paris
lighting up the chalice
wee willy harris

Bantu Stephen Biko, listening to Rico
Harpo, Groucho, Chico

Cheddar cheese and pickle, the Vincent motorsickle
Slap and tickle
Woody Allen, Dali, Dimitri and Pasquale
balabalabala and Volare

Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy
Being in my nuddy
Saying hokey-dokey, singalonga Smokey
Coming out of chokey

John Coltrane's soprano, Adi Celentano
Bonar Colleano

Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
Reasons to be cheerful part 3
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Yes yes
dear dear
perhaps next year
or maybe even never

in which case...

Tales from the podcasting couch...

When Ditchflower Brian Merrill approached me with the idea of doing a podcast to showcase our little record label, Sunshine Drenchy Records, I was a little relieved. I was beginning to think that I was destined to be the only person around not involved in podcasting. I mean, I've had considerable airplay from other podcasters over the past couple of years, but my limited technical expertise has left me watching from the sidelines, unable to join the fray.

No longer! Fortuitously, Brian is a self-described geek when it comes to technology, and along with the requisite array of software about his person, also has intimidating piles of hardware audio devices populating his home, studio, kitchen and water closet. They tend to have lots of flashing lights on them, and occasionally make strange beeping noises. The thing is, I think he actually understands what they're saying to him. It's quite amazing. The upshot, of course, is that he not only has the knowledge to put a podcast together, but he also knows the magic spells necessary to make it available for people to listen to.

So, why do a podcast? Well, why the hell not? It can't hurt can it? Besides, I'm between records right now, as are the Ditchflowers, so it might be a good way to promote the label a little bit; a chance to offer free downloads of previously unreleased tracks and live in the studio performances, as well as an excuse to get together at Brian's Studio Bee and have a bit of a natter over a fine ale or three. Why not indeed?

As will no doubt be apparent to listeners all, there was no script for "Bed Of Ales"- episode 1 of the Sunshine Drenchy Radio Podcast. Hell, there was no real plan or outline, other than for us to talk a little about the label and to play a couple of album cuts along with a song or two live in the studio. There was to be no rehearsal of the songs either. It would be matter of deciding which songs I would do, and Ed simply joining in after Brian hit the record button.

So, armed with several quality yeasty beverages, and a capo (no guitar— Brian said I could use his; it's much shinier than mine, and it doesn't rattle and hum every time you even glance at it), I traipsed over to Studio Bee and happened upon a podcast in progress. Yes, Brian and Ed had started without me. A decidedly unprofessional start to this Podcasting series, I'm sure you'll agree. It's a path we'll no doubt continue on as we go forward.

Click here to go to iTunes for the Podcast...Sunshine Drenchy Radio. Feel free to subscribe; it'll not cost you a penny, but it will make us feel quite loved.

If iTunes isn't your cup of iTea, you can also listen here.

Enjoying the ride...

I've struggled a bit, in the past - as I suspect many of us do as we get a little older - with the whole idea of enjoying the journey, rather than simply focusing on the destination.

In these early stages of recording my next collection of songs, I've been doing a lot better with it. Granted, there are still moments where my mind races forward and I find myself wondering when it'll be finished; where I'm going to find the time to actually play and sing all the parts, or even obsessing about the final running order of songs that have yet to even be recorded. More often, though, I've found myself feeling exhilarated by the fuzzy frenzy of the creative process. I've tried to exult in those little victorious moments that bring a song a little closer to fruition. It's silly not to, really, isn't it? It'd be a bit like catching a train and missing the scenery by pulling down the blinds until you get to where you're going.


Just yesterday, I began scribbling on a notepad, in search of words for the bridge section of a song I've been working on for a while. Suitable lyrics for this bit had been eluding me for weeks, and I still couldn't stumble on anything that thrilled me. So, I did what I often do -- instead of waiting for inspiration to strike, I had a beer instead.

It didn't really help with the lyrics, though. In fact, it distracted me a little, as a silly stream of beer-infused, pun-filled song titles like " Boozing, My Religion", " This Old Harp Of Mine" and "What's Bud Got To Do With It?" barged around my brain. By the time I found myself audibly groaning at "Labbatts, The Way I Like It", I knew that it was time to get to work, and I decided to record a quick demo of the song, in the hope that hearing it on playback might spur something.

Invariably, when recording the vocal for a song with missing lyrics, I tend to sing a little impromptu gibberish in the section in question, with the intent of replacing it later. You never know what's going to spill out when you do this, and that's half the fun. It can be totally dull, unintentionally funny, puzzling, and occasionally even frightening to hear yourself spew out words without premeditation.(I know there are those who think that much of what I write sounds like impromptu gibberish, but that's by the by.)

Although in the early days of writing this song, the idea was to go with the old early Dylan approach --single acoustic guitar, solo vocal and a bit of harmonica thrown in just to annoy the neighbours -- as I started to record it, discipline went flying out the window and the kitchen sink came rushing in. I upped the tempo, added a drum track that completely transformed the whole mood of it, doubled the lead vocal and layered some harmony vocals behind them.

The thing is, the recording, as hurried and off-handed as it was, took on a bit of a life of its own, taking me completely by surprise and giving me a bit of a kick in the pants in the process. I got all giddy and excited by the feel of the track, and all manner of ideas came flooding in. In particular, the words I was searching for showed up unannounced, and I promptly scribbled them down.

I think part of this new-found, er... maturity (ahem) stems from feelings of gratitude and thankfulness that, for better or worse, these songs continue to arrive. It's probably a common fear of people who like to put pen to paper, that the well will one day run dry, and I routinely have that "Well, that's probably the last song I've got in me" feeling. (Don't get your hopes up, though.)

Now, whether these songs are actually any good or not, and whether or not this song in particular delivers on the promise that I was feeling, hardly seems the point, really. The fact is, it felt really bloody joyful at the time, and I savoured it. The very idea that what can start off as a couple of phrases and a sliver of a melody occasionally ends up resembling an actual song is something I still find amazing, and I'm having a ball with it. The neighbours, I'm not so sure about -- tonight I'm recording harmonica parts...

Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part Two)...



I first heard The Innocence Mission back in the 80s when a friend passed me a cassette tape that had their debut CD coupled with the first Sundays album. It was actually a sweet pairing — The Sundays' Harriet Wheeler has a vocal delivery that's not a million miles away from that of Innocence Mission singer, Karen Peris, and both albums had an attractive shade of melancholy lingering beneath the pop sheen.

To be honest, the 80's production of The Innocence Mission's self-titled release hasn't aged anywhere near as well as the songs themselves. It often sounds a little too glossy, especially in light of the beautiful pure-of-heart songs being played and sung. It hardly matters though. For some reason, it's an album of songs that regularly call me back for another listen every couple of years. When I do, I always end up immersed in its beauty; totally captivated by Peris's pristine voice and the sentiments she effortlessly expresses, and I nearly always get choked up to the point of embarrassment.

These days, the albums crafted by this husband and wife team of Don and Karen Perris are more stripped-down affairs. The production and instrumentation is sparse, largely acoustic, and totally appropriate. Their little celebrations of life's beauty, sadness, faith and hope are all understatedly delivered with an easy style and grace that is so refreshing, especially amid much of the clatter that passes for entertainment these days.

When I first saw this clip, I watched transfixed for its duration. I'm not sure I even blinked. The simplicity of the visual; the starkness of the two-guitar accompaniment and the fragile beauty of the vocal just totally reaffirms the power of music to me. Exquisite.

Anyone have a hankie?

Website?... What website?

So where the hell is steverobinsonmusic.com? Well, the official reason is the old standby -"technical difficulties". Of course, the real reason is gross ineptitude on my part. It is, of course, inexcusable, and I should be duly punished. Unfortunately, my hairshirt is at the cleaners.

Speaking of old standbys...Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience.

Swedish envy...

It's that time of year again-- the dawning of another dreaded Florida summer, where the constant dreary hum of the air conditioner serves as a brutal reminder that unless you're partial to third-degree burns and heatstroke, you're going to spend the next six months or so indoors.

I may not have solar panels on my roof; I don't drive a hybrid car, and despite my best intentions I'm still not composting in my garden, but I've most definitely gone "green" in one respect: I'm jealous as hell of anyone who gets to spend their summers in more civilised climate.

One such lucky sod would be English-born, Swedish resident Malcolm Carter. Malcolm is the kindly gent who recently wrote the generous review of Undercurrent for the Scottish-based Penny Black Music website, and he recently interviewed me for the same publication. Among other things, The Headlights, mushy peas, and Peter Noone all came up in the discussion. You can read the whole thing here.

Apparently, he resides in Sventorp, which I found humourous, since Sven would be the Scandanavian equivalent to Steve, and Torp must be where Thorpe comes from. My hometown is, of course, Scunthorpe (stop sniggering at the back!), and many of the towns and villages in the surrounding area take their names from nordic words (take a bow, Viking invaders). Funny old world innit?

At the time of the interview I had no idea he lived in Sweden. If I had, I might have been tempted to ask him a few questions of my own, like: "Is it difficult to get a work visa?"

Oh well, back to the swamp...

Catch a wave...to Colorado?

Well, the dream of relocating from Florida to Colorado may have been put on hold for a while (housing market take a bow), but at least I'm getting a little Rocky Mountain airplay.

DJ Carmen Allgood has been bravely promoting independent artists for donkey's years now --she was the first in the nation to produce a local radio show, apparently-- and continues to do so via her Colorado Wave radio programme.

This not-so-little-anymore syndicated radio show (over 100 affiliates and counting) has, over the years, assisted over 12,000 stylistically varied independents in gaining a little radio exposure, and I'm pleased to be part of that group. Volume 537 of the show features "Forget About Love" and can be heard here.

Stamp of approval...

Getting your Indie CD reviewed, whether in print or online, can be quite a challenge. You have to be aware that your CD and its accompanying press kit will be arriving along with countless others, and that the odds are largely against you. There's no guarantee that anyone will actually listen to it, let alone assign it for review.

When I send out a package, I know that there's a certain amount of luck involved. I'm fully cognizant of the fact that there's every chance that my album might be doomed to sit unopened in an anonymous pile of similar submissions, or be unceremoniously tossed into an already overflowing waste paper basket, after a perfunctory audition. I also know and accept that an editor may well indeed give it a fair and open-minded listen, and decide that it's crap, and pass on it. It might be that you caught him on a bad day; it could be that he picked the wrong track, and that the previous one would have knocked his socks off. Or... it really might just be crap.

Either way, you have to accept it, move on to the next victim, and not take the rejection personally. Conversely, you have to really enjoy and appreciate it when you actually do land a review. I certainly made sure that I took the time to savour the following review from the Scottish-based website Penny Black Music . I caught him on a good day, apparently.

Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part 1)...



Ok, so maybe "cheerful" and "Gilbert O'Sullivan" might appear to be a little oxymoronic, especially in light of the fact that one of his biggest hits on both sides of the Atlantic was the desperately sad "Alone Again (Naturally)", and to be honest, this earlier UK hit from 1970 was hardly a knees-up either.

Like several of O'Sullivan's records, this one has that sort of distinctly English, sepia-tinged sense of melancholy about it, but despite its rather solemn subject matter, I don't find it a dour affair at all. In fact, when I hear it I usually find myself beaming. I suppose that part of the reason is that it brings back such vibrant and mostly pleasant memories of the early 70s. It was, after all, a time when my mother was still with us; our family well and truly intact.

My mum loved Gilbert, and had a stack of his 45s that she'd play relentlessly. "He's lovely"- she'd always inform us, and it seems that she was onto something. At the time, of course, I'd be rolling my eyes in adolescent disgust. I was far too obsessed with glittery and sartorially resplendent superstars, like T.Rex and Slade, to be able to relate to this corny, street urchin-looking throwback with a cloth cap and pudding bowl haircut.

Listening to it now, I'm totally knocked out by the sheer musicality of it. A brilliant song, beautifully arranged and played; truly lovely. Always listen to your mother.

Sunshine Drenchy newsbrief...

Hello poppy folk,

Just a quick update for you on the upcoming Headlights/Ditchflowers show at the Largo Cultural Center on Saturday, Feb 9th.

There has been a time change --the show is now scheduled to begin at 8:00 pm, rather than the previously advertised start time of 7:00 pm. I'm not sure how this will affect my scheduled solo spot at this point. It will probably be a bit of a squeeze (no "Up The Junction" jokes, please) but there may be time for a shortened mini-set. If not, I'll just have to relinquish the solo spotlight this time around and save my newly-penned, Australian-themed Folk-Rock Opera, "Pommie" for a future date. Not quite so disappointed now, are you?

Tickets for the show ($18 advance/$21 day of show) are available in person at the Box Office, or by calling 727-587-6793. More details about the venue/map/directions etc. are available on the website

There has been a lot of gossip surrounding this particular Headlights get-together. Some are touting it as the final show (some may even be praying, I don't know); others have suggested that it might be time to record some new material. I have to admit that I've long felt that as a band we never really managed to hit our stride in the studio. We certainly managed to conjure up a little magic on stage on occasion, but considering how long we played together, I think that we're woefully under-represented by our recorded output. I personally wouldn't mind the idea of bolstering the old back catalogue a bit. I know I have a couple of songs that I've not recorded as of yet, probably because they felt more like Headlights songs to me. There's a part of me that likes to think that schedules permitting, and pending suitable alignment of the stars, that I might be able to have a bash at them with the lads. Who knows?

Speaking of having a bash, there's a bit of a "do" at Dave's Aqua Lounge this coming Saturday, Feb 2nd featuring The Ditchflowers, Lorna Bracewell, Ronny Elliott & Rebekah Pulley, and Have Gun Will Travel. It's all for a good cause too. I'll leave the spilling of the details to Ditchflower, Ed Woltil -- everyone's favourite local, rather tall, uber-talented musical all-rounder, who despite the fact that the closest he ever gets to the Netherlands is when his wife picks up some imported Edam cheese from the deli, nevertheless has a really cool Dutch-sounding name.

What follows is an exerpt from a recent Ditchflowers bulletin. Take it away Ed...

"All our local fans are, of course, familiar with WMNF 88.5 Community Radio, the staunchest supporters of Bay Area musicians on the airwaves. Many of you, however, may not know about BAAMO (Bay Area Arts & Music Organization), a not-for-profit outfit that exists for the sole purpose of helping to promote Tampa artists. Gotta love ‘em — great people.

BAAMO’s major annual event is the Florida Bandango, a showcase of Tampa Bay music and musicians at the world famous South by Southwest (SXSW) Music Conference in Austin, Texas. The incorporators of BAAMO have hosted this event since 2003. The purpose of the Florida Bandango is to bring exposure to local musicians from the music industry and music press attendees of SXSW. Over 500 individuals attended the 2007 Florida Bandango. WMNF is another staunch supporter in helping to make this event a success.

This year, The Ditchflowers are proud to be one of the five Tampa acts participating in the 2008 Florida Bandango. Along with Ronnie Elliott & Rebekah Pulley (performing as a duo), Lorna Bracewell, Giddy-Up Helicopter, and Sarasota’s Have Gun Will Travel, we’ll be headed off to Austin to perform on March 12.

Another great thing BAAMO does is release a CD compilation of great local original music. The latest, Cheatin’ Heart: Tales of Lies & Love, features the above artists and more, and is hot off the press and available soon. Next week, for instance, you can pick up a copy at Dave’s Aqua Lounge when you drop in to check out all the above artists (except Giddy-Up Helicopter, who are unable to attend) performing in a special fundraising concert. That’s Saturday, February 2, at Dave’s Aqua Lounge. A suggested $10 donation will help us starving artists pay our way to the musical promised land of Austin, Texas (hey, travel’s expensive). Hope to see you there if you can make it-- all of these musicians are exceptionally talented, and this promises to be a night of great music, fun and camaraderie (show details below).


Gotta run...thanks again for your support.

Luv,

Ed

One For The Road 3
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Doors @ 8:00 pm, Music @ 9:00 pm
Dave’s Aqua Lounge on Gandy Boulevard in St. Petersburg
(10820 Gandy Boulevard)

It's like riding a bike...

Of course, you can still fall off.

I recently joined with my old mates in the Headlights at a rehearsal for our upcoming reunion show at the Largo Cultural Center on Saturday, Feb 9th, and although it was great to play with them again, it became apparent that I'm a little out of fighting shape.

There were a few chord changes going awry, and the occasional lyric that eluded me, which I suppose is understandable since it's been a couple of years since I sang the songs. More jarring though, was the physical side of it. After a couple of hours, my left hand began to cramp up on me and I had trouble gripping the fretboard. By the end of the evening the hand looked like something from Curse Of The Black Claw.

Then there's the vocal cords issue. I mean, I knew it'd be a bit of a strain -- singing hard and trying to make yourself heard over a plugged-in band is, after all, a far different thing that sitting by yourself in front of a microphone in the relative hush of your home studio -- but it was perhaps a little worse than I expected. Although I didn't quite sing myself hoarse, there was enough strain to ensure that when I awoke the next morning, my speaking voice sounded a little like a cross between Tom Waits and Barry White.

I'm hopeful that another rehearsal will help me toughen up a bit, so I can be in fine voice for the show. If not, at least there'll be an opportunity to do that "Downtown Train/Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe" medley that I've always wanted a crack at.

Monk's the word...

Well, we're approaching the middle of January -- everyone's Christmas decorations have been safely packed away in the attic for a couple of weeks now; resolutions lay scattered about in tatters, and the last few pine needles from the Christmas trees have been vacuumed away. It takes a while to get them all, doesn't it? Every couple of days or so, you'll see a couple of them taunting you from beneath the edge of an area rug, or nestling unnoticed against a seldom-used door jamb. The bastards. I wouldn't mind so much, but for the past four years, we've had an artificial tree.

Speaking of resolutions, I usually make them only half-heartedly, and so the inevitable breaking of them doesn't seem so monumental. Either that, or I make them too easy to keep. Last year, I vowed not to set fire to any important Government buildings, and it worked out quite well for me.

I also make sure that they never involve me limiting the amount of food I eat. I have no interest in such silliness. I want to eat like a king. A gluttonous king. I adore food, and refuse to deprive myself of one of the great joys of life, in order to be in step with the latest health diet du jour. If I start to look a little pudgy or lumpy in certain areas, I just see it as a sign that I need to move around a little more and at greater speeds. So, I increase the old running schedule; it's a simple enough equation, I think.

Nor do I have any desire to stop drinking. Don't get me wrong, I don't consume like I used to back in my gigging days with the band; that would be daft. Back then, I'd knock back any mass-produced swill that was even rumoured to have hops, barley and malt somehow involved in the brewing process. Now, of course, I limit myself to quality micro-brews and the occasional Belgian abbey ale brewed by Trappist monks (just keeping it Holy, you know).

No, my New Year's resolution wasn't even made before the new year began; it just sort of dawned on me during the past week, and it involves MORE enjoyment, rather than less. Simply put, I'd like to try to actually enjoy the music-making process, from now on. It might sound like a foregone conclusion to some, but so often for me, the creative process tends to be a bit of a painful exercise, fraught with uncertainty, insecurity and self-doubt. I get anxious and jittery; my palms sweat, and I lose focus as my mind races ahead and tries to envision how a song will sound when recorded, sometimes before I've even finished writing the bloody thing. There is often much gnashing of teeth and plaintive wailing during the small hours.

This needs to stop. For one thing, it frightens the neighbours, and it really throws a damper on the far more desirable feelings of joy and wonderment that can arise when you realise that you somehow just created something that rather resembles a song, out of a bunch of hastily scribbled phrases and a jumble of guitar chords.

A couple of days ago, I picked up the guitar and turned on the machine that I use to record with (a Korg D1600 for the anoraks among us), with the intention of capturing a couple of sketches of song ideas that I'd had buzzing around my brain for a while. With the red recording light flashing in wait, I began reacquainting myself with these assorted song snippets and prepared to capture them for future study. Somehow, I got sidetracked, forgot what I was doing, and out of nowhere, found myself playing something completely new. It was only a couple of chords, but they felt good, and before I knew it they were suggesting, nay, insisting upon a nifty little melody that infected me and wouldn't let go. Before I knew it, I found myself grinning all Cheshire Cat-like and reaching for the record button.

I've yet to expand upon that little germ; I have no idea whether it'll turn into a fully realised song any time soon, years down the road, or even at all. It hardly matters really. The fact is, that for a few minutes I was buzzing with excitement about it. It excited me; invigorated me and made me want to get to work. That's the sort of moment I want to learn to savour. To try not to worry about whether or not I'll be able to conjure up a suitable chorus or bridge section; whether it'll all pan out into a decent song, or even wondering if my vocal on it will end up sounding anything like Peter Noone, but to try and have the mindfulness to be able to enjoy grabbing hold of a little gift like that, wherever it may lead -- to enjoy the journey, as they say.

I mention Peter Noone, because I've been hearing comparisons to the eternally youthful Herman's Hermits' singer for a couple of years now. I don't really hear it myself, but I'm wondering if it's a hint of my northern accent poking through. I've heard several comparisons to Graham Nash too, and his northern tones are still occasionally audible, so it could be an accent thing. Either way, I take it as a compliment. He was a bit of a trendsetter in a way; I mean, he was singing in a Mancunian accent while Morrissey was still in diapers wasn't he? I know one thing-- If I look as good as he does when I'm his age, I'll be an 'appy camper.

So, as I contemplate enlightenment, and continue to work on my quest to try to live more in the moment, feel free to read the latest comparison to the luvly Mr Noone in the latest review of "Undercurrent", courtesy of babysue/LMNOP . If you need me, I'll just be enjoying the journey...to the fridge, where a fine Belgian brown ale awaits. Something tells me I'm into something good.