Unnecessary War

Although some of the more politically tinged songs from recent records of mine have tended to be a little on the snarky side (some of them bordering on barely concealed rage, if I’m honest) "Unnecessary War" attempts to strike a more conciliatory tone. Being angry all the time is tiring, so rather than just going for another diatribe against the usual easy political targets, this one ended up as a bit of a plea for solidarity and understanding across the political divide, albeit with a darn good skewering of those on high horses who seek to pit us lowly folk against each other. Almost akin to poor old Mick Jagger’s, “People, why are we fighting?” plea to the seething crowd at Altamont in ’69. Not that I was there, of course - I was too young and in a different country, but still...

My cousin, David Wise, had shared with me a collection of dramatic WW2-themed pinhole camera shots that he'd taken in Europe, and I wondered if it might be interesting to use them as the backdrop of a lyric video for the song. Now, David and I have never actually met (long story) but it turns out we are very much alike. Consider this quote from a 2023 article in The Hamilton Spectator about him and his pinhole photography: “He has slept on the desert floor in the Sahara and walked and run hundreds of miles at a time across several continents.” Ok, so maybe we’re not really alike at all. I mean, I’m such a cautious homebody these days, that I’ve been known to contemplate getting travel insurance before heading out to the Publix downtown for our weekly shopping excursion. My idea of risky behaviour is to eat a bowlful of ice cream while sitting on the couch without a napkin. Truth be told, I’m a little in awe of him, so I’m really happy that our creative lives have clashed this way. By the way, the article is worth a read; it’s right here: https://www.thespec.com/.../article_9ed8c2c7-6ae6-58e7...

As he usually does, my friend Ed Woltil helped me traverse the minefields of my own technical ineptitude and created this seamless video for me after I’d picked out the shots I thought would work best to accompany the song. Funny thing is, after it was done, my cousin David happened to send me an old photo of our great-grandfather that I’d never seen before. In it, he was very young, and cut a striking figure dressed in his military finery, and after I shared it with Ed, he indicated that it should probably be added to the video. So, in it went (it shows up around the 2:30 minute mark) and I’m so glad he suggested it. Not just because I was hesitant to infringe on his time any further by asking him myself, but because ultimately, I think it makes a for a lovely and poignant addition to the photographic slide show.

After seeing the video, David mentioned to me that he’d like to think that our shared great-grandad would be quite tickled, and might well indeed raise a pint glass to the idea that one of his great grandsons would end up moving to Canada, the other to America, and would both one day connect via an artistic collaboration that would incorporate this very photo. Sappy old bugger that I am, I find the idea quite moving.

Anyway, onward to war stuff…

I Don’t Hear a Single…

It’s always nice to get word of an encouraging album review, especially when it comes in on your birthday. Thanks to Don Valentine for these kind words.

Read the review here:

Read Listen Watch

 

The first review for Window Seat is in. Thanks to Andres Kabel for the kind words!

Read his thoughts here: Window Seat

Golden (Interlude)

Are we golden?

Or beholden?

We left but never got too far

We said goodbye, but why?

Now here we are...

I've always been quite partial to interludes on albums - little song snippets that serve as a bit of a breather in the flow of more fully fledged songs. Sometimes they work well as a little segue into a song of a different mood and vibe; other times the listener may well just wonder, "What the hell was he thinking with this? It's barely a bloody song!"

Either way. I'm quite happy with this little daydream of a song fragment, and I've included it on the new "Window Seat" album. At the very least, I get the opportunity to marry it with a few photos from one of my favourite photographers, Bob Hinchcliffe, who shot these photos back in my hometown of Scunthorpe.

Take a Window Seat...

 

I've toiled, I've laboured, I've laughed, I've cried, I've repeatedly tripped over the dog in my makeshift recording studio. In between it all, I've somehow managed to cobble together another full-length album of songs. When I say, "I've managed", I do of course mean that "my trusted friend, Ed Woltil and I have managed" - for without his stellar production assistance and encouragement, I'd still be stumbling around my studio space, irate dog nipping at my heels, trying to figure out which buttons to push.

Be that as it may, I'm quite chuffed with this one. Ed's fab playing is all over it, my daughter Emma's harmony vocals adorn it, and my favourite guitar player out there, Dave Gregory, makes a couple of his customary appearances. I'm a lucky lad. 

The new record will soon be available at the usual streaming sites (iTunes, Spotify, Apple Music, Starving Artists R Us etc.) and hard copies in a rather suave gatefold CD wallet thingy with lovely artwork courtesy of Ed will also be available at Bandcamp. While it's not officially released until October 19th, I’m now set up for pre-orders at my Bandcamp page. Pre-ordering gets you two tracks now (Unnecessary War, the album opener which features the aforementioned Dave Gregory on guitar duty, and Treasure, the album's rather pastoral closer), plus the complete album the moment it’s released. If you need something to listen to on those lonely car journeys, you could do worse, you know. Have a look and listen here: Window Seat

I Don't Hear a Single

Aside from having one of the best blog (and blogger) names out there, Don Valentine is the cool bloke and astute writer behind the "I Don't Hear A Single" site.

With a dizzying array of indie music reviews, it's obvious that he loves the music he writes about, and feels a kinship with us struggling artists out there who persist in this whole music-making lark.

Obviously, releasing albums with a view to making money is a bit of a fool's errand, so speaking for myself, it's all a bit of a labour of love. I simply want to create records that I can be proud of; let the chips fall where they may. The reality is that it can be a lonely and frustrating endeavour out there putting these things together on miniscule budgets and struggling to promote them (ask anyone with "Independent Musician" in their bio!), so having someone who values what we bring to the table and takes the time to shine a little light on it, is really encouraging and much appreciated.

Have a look around his site and see for yourself, and while you're there have a look at his kind words about Shadow Play

Life On A Trampoline

The Robinson sisters (Steve and Emma) on background vocals; XTC's Dave Gregory on his trusty SG; Ed Woltil on loads of stuff, including his beloved Looney Tunes timpani drum. (Don't ask)

It's a scream...it's Life On a Trampoline!

Read Listen Watch

A heartfelt thank you to Andres Kabel, for his rather eloquent review of Shadow Play. It's the first one out of the gate and it's a beaut. Thank you sir!

https://readlistenwatch.com/2022/shadow-play/

What we did on our Covid holidays...

 

Cycle, the last Steve Robinson & Ed Woltil release back in 2015 holds a special place in my heart. A fair amount of blood, sweat, tears and grinding of teeth went into it. As I remember, we originally envisioned it as a bloated double album set; almost a willful attempt to be as unbearably pretentious as possible. Ultimately, common sense prevailed as we jettissoned several songs and a rather pompous instrumental segue section, ending up with a rather more sensible 12-track album (13 tracks, if you count the opening 20-second prelude that somehow eluded the editing scissors.)

Shadow Play proved to be an altogether smoother affair. Songs came together quite quickly and it seemed like we zoomed from exchanging early sketched song ideas to hashing out final mixdown decisions in the blink of an eye. I really can't take much credit for this; much of it was down to Ed's alarming work ethic and otherworldy musical focus. His instincts are such, that instrumental touches he adds to our songs almost always seem to hit the mark. He does it so quickly too. I mean, I'm really quite happy with my musical contributions to a slew of the songs we've worked on together, but I also know they're usually a result of considerable trial and error. I'll add and replace guitar and vocal parts over a few weeks until I feel I've landed on the right approach. Ed, on the other hand, will receive a song of mine via email, and the next day he'll toss it back painted with instrumental colours that I didn't even realise I wanted. Mental.

Now, I don't know if this album is better than Cycle (whatever that might mean) but for me, I think that making this one might have been even more enjoyable, in a way. Whether it's due to getting older and more sappy, limping through the jarring stops and starts of the pandemic/lockdown, or simply the realization of just how special it is to have a musical foil like Ed to work with, I'm really not sure. I do feel like our hearts are in it though, and I just treasure it. 

The album will soon be available at the usual streaming sites (iTunes, Spotify, Apple Music etc) and hard copies in a swanky gatefold CD wallet with lovely artwork courtesy of Ed will also be available at Bandcamp. Speaking of which, we’re set up for pre-orders of Shadow Play at the Bandcamp site. You get 2 tracks now (a power-pop nugget called Kickstart and a rather bouncy, Beatlesque gem called Life On a Trampoline, which features XTC’s Dave Gregory on guitar duty), plus the complete album the moment it’s released. Have a listen here:  Shadow Play

Highly recommended, apparently...

                                              

"With The Headlights connection, it will probably be labelled Folk Pop, but Swallowing The Sun is more Pastoral Pop. It is a beautifully arranged album, gentle, magnificently moody, whilst still being melodic. Plenty of hooks, but far more it is about a vibe." - Don Valentine, I Don't Hear a Single

Really kind words from Mr Valentine, for sure. Don't know if he hears a single or not, but I'll take it anyway...

https://hearasingle.blogspot.com/2021/08/steve-robinson-swallowing-sun.html?m=1

Wild God

When I was a kid, religious people were towering figures, rather than cowering ones. Being a good Christian was hard; it was a lofty goal that took a lot of work, commitment and, well…goodness. For starters, you were expected to look after your fellow man without lusting after his wife, tend to the poor and infirm, forgive those who would do you harm, and be able to drop all manner of biblical verses into casual conversation. When asked for your favorite bible quote, answering, “5 Corinthians walked into a bar...” probably means you're not up to the task. 

Now, despite my smart-arse attitude and assorted moral failings, I always respected those who called themselves Christians and did their best to live up to the ideals of their faith. I still do, despite the preponderance of loudly hypocritical bible thumpers in the political realm who wield their holy book as weapons of a culture war of their own creation. 

Those who attend church and quietly follow the teachings of Jesus Christ with kindness and love in their hearts are inspiring; fetid prosperity-gospel charlatans fleecing the vulnerable, and dog-whistling politicos spouting out random bible verses to justify their hideous deeds and rampant cowardice is just nauseating. It’s so far away from what I was taught about the Christian faith, that I can’t help but think that if Jesus were to return (and assuming he could get through immigration), he would kick their sorry arses.

Wild God (lyrics)

Heading south with butter melting in your mouth 

It’s drawn and quartered messenger for tea 

Egos grazed and voices raised and there’s no doubt 

You exhale and I’ll forget to breathe 

Deva fly on broken wing 

Church of rage and idiot king 

Sing again 

Eat your words and spew your junk 

Fill your boots till you’re all sunk 

Drunk on wild god 

Silk pajama dramas by the kitchen sink 

You kill all conversation with your thumbs 

There’s no shame, there's no taboo, just doublethink 

Gift the kool aid knowing they’ll succumb 

Deva fly on broken wing 

Church of rage and idiot king 

Sing again and again 

Eat your words and spew your junk 

Fill your boots till you’re all sunk 

Drunk on wild god 

Drunk on wild, wild god 

Look who’s crawling out from underneath his stone 

Loosey-goosey stepping as he goes 

There’s no rest for the wicked or the innocent 

in sad saluting, empty suited rows 

Deva fly on broken wing 

Church of rage and idiot king 

Sings again and again 

Eat your words and spew your junk 

Fill your boots till you’re all sunk 

Drunk on wild god 

Drunk on wild, wild god

Living in the moment?

 

Another silly one from Swallowing The Sun; one totally deserving of a little silly visual accompaniment.

Emptying your head in order to become fully immersed in the moment sounds simple enough, but it's a royal struggle isn't it? I think it might be a little easier to do in a song than in everyday life. That is, until your dog barges into your studio during a vocal take. As you can hear, I left in Finley's contribution at the close of the song. It seemed like the zen thing to do. Or something.

Can you dig it?

"Robinson’s regal melodies offer the essence of a timeless treasure, with each track as absolutely effusive as the next. This Sun shines brightly indeed." - Lee Zimmerman

As befitting a self-confessed music nerd, I've perused many a copy of Goldmine Magazine over the years, so I was more than a little chuffed to see that Lee Zimmerman had written a few kind words for the publication in question: https://www.goldminemag.com/columns/indie-spotlight-steve-robinson-brian-dolzani-evvan-and-others

Raising a glass to an old friend...

It's tough to know where to begin when talking about my old Headlights bandmate, Steve Connelly. Over the years, his influence on me has been quite immense. 

In the summer of '82, I left the UK armed with a couple of guitars, an armful of XTC, Jam, and Echo & The Bunnymen records, a clean change of underwear, and the vague notion of finding a band who might be in search of a foreign singer with no concrete plans, limited funds and no work permit. Looking back, it was all a bit ridiculous; a venture doomed to failure that would see me scurrying sheepishly back home when the money ran out. But, when you arrive in a strange land and you're in your early twenties, you pay no mind to such trivialities and get straight to the job at hand: you go to the pub.

In this case, it was Clancy's, a local Irish-themed hangout that somehow managed to avoid selling draught Guinness anywhere on their premises, but did serve up live music 6 nights a week. Someone had suggested going there to see a band called The Headlights; one of the area's best they'd told me.  So, I went along to have a look. Truth be told, they reeled me in rather quickly.

They were a tight and polished band, to be sure, with a big-voiced female singer fronting the band, a swaggering bassist with quite the gift of on-stage gab, an overly talented singing drummer, and a skinny Les Paul-clad lad who played guitar like he couldn't put a foot wrong if he tried. 

During one of their breaks, I approached said guitar player, introduced myself and casually asked if I could give him my number in case he heard of anyone who might be in need of a singer. As it turned out, it was a bit of a life-changing moment, because he chuckled at my suggestion, told me that their singer would soon be leaving the band, and that he'd call me to set up an audition.

I don't remember too much about the audition really, but it must have gone well, because I was playing shows with The Headlights within a few weeks, and would continue to do so for the next dozen or so years. As twee and trite as it may sound, the fact is that over time, the Headlights just became my family. Over the years, we'd come to see each other through assorted bereavements, marriages, divorces, births and even an ill-advised attempt to cover Prince's Purple Rain (don't ask).

Now, it's quite obvious to anyone who has watched Steve Connelly play, that they're watching a special talent. Calling him a great guitar player is akin to saying that Dylan has a way with words, or that Paul McCartney can carry a tune, and quite honestly, no matter how many years pass, listening to him can often be an eyebrow-raising experience for me. There have been so many times, both on stage and in the studio, where I've even found myself on the verge of laughter at the sheer impudence of some of his musical forays. If the mood struck him, he might lurch from an Albert Lee-like countryish chicken-pickin' solo, into a few windmilled Townshendian power chords before shifting into some sort of Richard Thompson-like workout with scales that sounded like they were coming from Istanbul rather than Nashville. He would pull this sort of stunt off almost nightly, and he made it look effortless. 

So, here we are, closing in on 40 years later, and while people still love to see Steve Connelly's on-stage guitar heroics, in my view, Steve has become a more subdued and thoughtful kind of guitar player. Oh, he's still capable of dropping jaws and melting faces and all that, but these days, he seems to have more of an interest in getting to the heart of the musical matter at hand. To my ears, his parts seem more measured and emotionally direct. It's just another layer of the man's talent coming to the fore, I suppose, and it's a beautiful thing to behold.

During the tracking for Swallowing The Sun, my friend and producer, Ed Woltil, had been quite encouraging about the song, Skinful, after I'd expressed doubts about it. It was a bit of a weird one for me, and I wasn't sure about it, but as Ed began to add a few of his own sonic touches, it started sounding pretty good, and I began to feel like it might be a worthwhile addition to the record. I did feel, though, that it was missing a lead instrument of some sort, and so we decided to ask Steve if he might care to add some pedal or lap steel to it. 

Good move. 

Steve ended up sending a couple of beautifully restrained, emotive takes for us to listen to, and Ed took both of them, crafting a mix that when I first heard it, gave me a real lump in the old throat. Skinful went from a hesitant contender to my favourite track on the album. Whether the song is really good, poor or somewhere in between, I don't really know. What I do know, is how it makes me feel when I hear it, and I'm just dead chuffed that for some four minutes and thirty-four seconds, I feel in sync once again with a beloved family member.

How's that for twee and trite?

. 

After ever happily...

Some of my songs might be a little on the serious side. This is not one of them.

These things take time...

Needle in The Red had been around, in some form or another, for a couple of decades or so before it finally saw its release on Swallowing The Sun. I'd actually written it during my time with The Headlights; we'd even played it live a couple of times and recorded a demo of it at some point. For some reason, it never became a regular part of our setlist and I suppose I just filed it away for a rainy day.

One day, when Ed and I were assembling songs for our Cycle album, it happened to be pissing it down... so I decided to have another crack at recording the song. After basic tracks and vocals were done, I invited Dave Gregory to play on it to see if he might help breathe new life into it. He did. 

Frustratingly, the new recording was beset with all sorts of technical problems (probably all my fault) and a protracted period of trying to work around assorted glitches, time clock issues and other headache-inducing concerns pushed my co-producers, Ed Woltil and Brian Merrill, close to breaking point. So, the song was shelved. Filed away for a different rainy day, you might say.

I hated the fact that a song that we'd worked so hard on might never see the light of day, so when I began work on Swallowing The Sun, I always hoped that Needle in The Red might find a way to poke its head out from between the rain clouds and make a belated appearance. Since Ed was tasked with the bulk of the production duties, it fell on his shoulders to wade through old files, discarding problematic ones and insisting upon the re-recording of others. Despite coming perilously close to donning a straightjacket at one point, he somehow managed to get the song ship-shape, and on to the album it went. Now you know who to blame...

So is it a snarky song about religious beliefs, or is it perhaps my clunky effort at an anti-drug song? Buggered if I know; it's been way too long since it was written for me to recall. It's probably best just to ignore my plaintive bleating and simply languish in the glory that is Dave Gregory's guitar playing. 

Swallowing The Fun...

An English writer living in Sventorp, Sweden, reviewing an album by an English songwriter from Scunthorpe, England, living in Western North Carolina, USA ... for a Scottish-based music site? Sounds like a set up for lame jokes aplenty doesn't it?

See if my album is funny (it isn't) right here: Pennyblack Music

Sorry Amsterdam

Because he's a clever swine who can do just about everything well, my mate Ed Woltil crafted this lovely lyric video for the opening track from my Swallowing The Sun record.

So, is the song an aural love letter to mildly morose Mancunians, Morrissey & Marr? Or is it simply a self-indulgent reflection on a personal musical journey in his adopted homeland? Maybe a bit of both...

Make You Mine

Someone mentioned to me that Make You Mine from the new record reminded them of The Hollies. It caught me by surprise, but after thinking about it, I think I hear what they mean, in the melody, if not the instrumentation.

Yes, for those of us of a certain age, it's very dificult to hide from the melodic influence of the bands from that era isn't it? Whether it's The Stones, The Kinks, The Beatles or Bob Dylan, it's just an unavoidable fact of our musical lives.

Although I might be little more flattered at the mention of Andy Partridge or Richard Thompson, personally, I think it might be closer to Peter Noone and Herman's Hermits.

Good enough...

You may leave Scunthorpe, but Scunthorpe never leaves you, etc...

 

The latest review of the new record, courtesy of At The Barrier, contains the phrase, “Steve Robinson is an amiable, self-deprecating Scunthonian”. 

It goes without saying that "Self-Deprecating Scunthonians" makes for a hell of a band name, and I'm wondering if I should also print some business cards emblazoned with that very slogan.

Read the full review here: At The Barrier - Swallowing The Sun