Tony James Shevlin

Tony James Shevlin

Sun, Sangria and Songs…

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Up until a few weeks ago, you could count the people I had written songs with on one hand and the songs we had written on two.  After my visits to Nashville in 2014 and 2015 – which were responsible for half of that output – I decided to explore further the possibilities of collaboration.  So it was somewhat serendipitous when I was invited on a songwriting retreat organised by The Songwriting Academy.  The deal was you spend a week in a secluded village in the Andalusian hills of Spain with 30 other songwriters, being mentored by 5 experienced and successful songwriters – and write songs with each other; what’s not to like?

An atmosphere of excitement and nervousness emanated from the café in Malaga Airport as the retreat participants assembled round a gaggle of guitars.  Introductions were made, complete with potted histories of how each one ended up there.

An hour later, we were drinking sangria around the pool in the Moorish village of Los Castillejos, which had been lovingly renovated by its owner Paul Sluiter over 20 years.

After supper, the guitars came out and a sing-song of well-known covers ensued, many of them being performed by Rob Nicklas whom we christened the “Juke-box” as he seemed to know every popular song ever written since 1955.

Day one: The next morning, the sessions started in earnest; writing teams of twos and threes were sent to various locations around the village.  Each team was assigned one of the mentors to support, advise and cajole as the song took shape.

My partners on that first day were two young lasses named Chloe Reynolds and Nicole Roberts.  The former was feisty and confident, the latter a little shy (although by the end of the week she had found her voice and was belting out the songs she had written with gusto).

We spent an hour or so finding out about each other and we each played the last song we had written.

Then we settled down to the business of the day.  Chloe told us the story of a friend of hers who had died of cancer but who, in the time from being diagnosed with the illness to finally succumbing to it, had lived her life to the full.  Chloe wanted to honour her bravery with a song that advocated embracing life.  But the song would also have to be about death – a tricky subject to write about without being mawkish and full of platitudes.  After Chloe suggested the opening line of “I had a friend, she passed away, I think about her every day” we settled on a title of Before the Lights Go Out with its double meaning – that moment at the end of the day when you think about what you have done with your day, and the bigger picture of what you have done with your life.

I think Chloe struggled at times to write such a personal song with two strangers but the objectivity that Nicole and I brought to the table, and the calm reassurance from our affable mentor Jez Ashurst (who has written for Leona Lewis and Little Mix) that we were on the right track, saw us through.  By the end of the day we were happy with the final song.

At the end of each day (after a wonderful al fresco meal in the village street) the songs are debuted with acoustic instruments in a playback session in the village hall.  Before the Lights Go Out went down very well – but such is the camaraderie and support in the room that all the songs are well received.  Standout song for me that first night was one written by Alison Rily, Emma Ballantine and Sophie Jean Kim called The Flower Seller, which portrays how flower sellers, whom we hardly notice, can touch so many lives with their wares, helping us convey so many different emotions “lilies for the grave, and petals for the bed”.  Day one and the bar had been set very high.

Day two: I’m again with two ladies. Alison (who co-wrote The Flower Seller) who is one half of Buxton-based band Sea Shaped, and Izzy Cox Chaparro, a livewire singer from Dusseldorf, Germany.  The brief for the day: the song must contain some gibberish in the lyrics – for example, do, do, dos, whoa, whoa, whoas or some such nonsensical words.  We settled on Ay, Ay, Ay for a song called Just Talking.  Izzy sang lead, Alison played guitar, and I played acoustic bass, with the pair of us singing harmonies.  It’s not the greatest song ever written but it’s a nice little pop ditty and the girls were tremendous fun to work with.

As I was making my way back to my house, I passed the house where Nicole was rehearsing with her co-writers Jo Foulkes and Gulli Francoise.  I absolutely loved the song they were singing a cappella (with a little percussion).  I offered to play cahon for them and they said yes.  Prison Skin became my favourite song of that night.  I felt honoured to be on stage with these powerful ladies and their energetic performance.  When this song is a big hit, I will dine out on the fact that I was there at its birth.

Day three: My name is called out; I’m to write with Chris Neil and Kim Richey.  There is a sharp intake of breath from the room.  “You lucky bastard,” says my housemate Martin Wardley.  Of my two new writing partners, the former has produced records for Celine Dion, Rod Stewart, Sheena Easton, Aha and Mike and the Mechanics as well as being a successful songwriter.  The latter is a successful artist in her own right, being Grammy-nominated, and has written for the likes of the Dixie Chicks and Trisha Yearwood.

I went to my room to collect my guitar and gave myself a pep talk in the mirror.  “You can do this!” I told my reflection.  I needn’t have worried.  Chris was an absolute gentleman and a great raconteur.  Kim was funny and self-deprecating; by the end of the week, the pair would be adored by the whole group.

For me, the session was a master-class in songwriting collaboration.  There were no egos in the room, there was much respect and courtesy but nothing was too precious.  Neither of them was happy to settle for the first line that came along, always looking for something better.  Chris’s phrase: “I’m looking for something with a bit more edge,” has stayed with me.  He told me that in writing sessions in Nashville, when someone comes up with really good line, the other writers point at the door and say: “get out!” I’m pleased to say he gave me several of those that day.  The brief was ‘beautiful’.  We started thinking about things we found beautiful.  I related that the most peaceful I’d ever felt was sitting on a beach in Ireland watching the waves crash on the shore and offered up ‘Waves crash on an empty beach’.  Chris said, “No, it should be: ‘Waves crash on an Irish beach’; that’s the ‘edge'”.  Kim sang the most beautiful melody, somehow sad and uplifting.  Several times the song changed direction and we were happy to let it find its own path.  In the end Wind the Clock is the story of someone looking back on moments in their life that they shared with someone special who has gone but whom they know they will see again.

It was an honour and a privilege to co-write with Kim and Chris.

There was no playback session that evening.  The entire group de-camped with PA system, electric piano, acoustic guitar and bass and various bits of percussion to the village at the top of the hill and took over the patio of the local bar.  We sang the night away playing covers old and new.  The only exception was having mentor Ian Dench sing the song he wrote for EMF in the early nineties – Unbelievable.  It just so happened that at that point I was on bass and the insanely talented Scott Fleming was on guitar.  Both of us had paid our dues playing in cover bands.  Ian turned to us both with his guitar and was clearly about to show us the song’s riff.  Scott put up his hand to halt Ian, saying: “It’s alright, Ian – we’ve got this!”  And indeed we did, but I thought it was a mark of Ian’s great humility to not expect us to know it.  The original song has a rap section in it.  A new totally off-the-cuff one was provided by vocal powerhouse Charlene Michael.  It was a wonderful finale to a very fun evening.

Day four: A day off.  And believe me, some of us needed it.  Sleep-ins, sun, swimming and siestas were the order of the day.

The group assembled after supper to perform the songs from yesterday.  On Wind the Clock, Chris sang lead with occasional harmonies in the verse and pre-chorus from Kim; I joined in on the chorus.  Both Chris and Kim played finger-picking acoustic lines and I played bass.  I think the song went down well but I was just so pleased to share a stage with Chris and Kim that I hardly noticed the reaction as the performance passed far too quickly.  I probably grinned inanely the whole way through the song.

Day five: I’m paired with my housemate Martin and the beguiling Lizzy.  While Martin and I look like worldly, been-through-the-mill frazzled and worn singer-songwriters, Lizzy, or Elizsabeth to give her her stage-name, looks like a bonafide pop star.  If Nick Drake and Kate Bush had a love-child, it would look like Lizzy.

The brief was ‘quirky’.  Martin had an idea for a song which was about a scornful, bitter woman. There was nothing sweet about this lady – she was said to be ‘sugar free’.  And there was our title.  I came up with some chords in a minor key and we were up and running.  After an hour or so we thought we had the makings of a good song.  Our mentor that day was The Songwriting Academy head honcho and all-round good egg Martin Sutton.  We played him what we had of our song; in a very affable and caring way, he tore it to shreds.  He loved the title and saw the possibilities of a song with that title being used in a TV advert for a sugar substitute such as Canderel (have I just made that up?) but not with the bitter and twisted narrative we had devised.  He suggested trying a different tack as we could always go back to what we had.  After we spent a couple of minutes sulking like recalcitrant school kids being told their algebra homework wasn’t up to scratch, we knuckled down to the task at hand.  I banged out a funky rhythm using a chord progression in a major key and Lizzy sang a melody using the phrases we’d assembled from Martin’s notes.  The new song was the complete opposite of our original effort. It was light and breezy with a positive message told from the woman’s perspective; she didn’t need her man’s sweetness anymore – from now on she would be ‘sugar free’.  We played it to mentor Martin.  “It’s a hit!” he beamed.

The playback session couldn’t come quickly enough for us.  The great thing about playing songs to a bunch of songwriters is that when they hear what they think is a good line or hook you can feel the energy in the room rise.  And Lizzy’s delivery of the vocal has a kooky carefree attitude that totally sells the track.  Over the course of the week I hadn’t heard Ian Dench swear.  His critique consisted of: “It’s hooky as fuck!” (and he’s written for Beyonce!).  Jez said that if he heard it on the radio it would be one of those songs he’d wished he’d written.  Wow!

After the session, Lizzy, Martin and I had a little back-slapping, did-that-really-just-happen get-together moment and agreed that Sugar Free was worth pursuing.

About six beers and an hour later, I bumped into my co-writer Martin out on the village street.  If I were only allowed one memory from the retreat it would be of the grin on his face as he stumbled towards me.  He told me that the positive comments that had been made to him about Sugar Free had totally made his week.  I said I’d drink to that.  So we did.  Several times.

Day six: I thought the day would be something of an anti-climax but I was wrong.  Before the writing teams were read out, all of the mentors told how they got started in the business, and Kim Richey was persuaded to sing a song.  I asked her to sing my favourite song of hers – The Absence of Your Company – which she did, and it was truly amazing.

I was paired with Italian singer-songwriter Valeria Pozzo.  I was pleased with this as I had been watching and enjoying her contributions and performances throughout the week.  There is a vibrancy and an honesty to everything she does.  Earlier on in the week she had written a song about leaving Italy and her family to pursue a career in London which had struck a chord with me but from a different perspective, that of a parent sending their offspring out into the world.

The brief was: ‘anthemic’.  We started with the idea of a song with the theme of ‘going for it’, ‘being unstoppable’, along the lines of Starship’s Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now or Queen’s We Are the Champions.  We jotted down some phrases and I played a chord progression I thought would be suitable.  However, my inbuilt cheese-ometer was ringing loudly.  Jez came in the room to hear how we were doing.  As I picked up my guitar I told him of my reservations.  He listened intently.  “Yeah,” he said, “it’s a bit cheesy.  Got any other ideas?” I said I did.  What I wanted to say was, “I’d like to write a song about a father saying goodbye to his daughter as she goes off into the world”, except, I couldn’t speak.  The words wouldn’t come out, my eyes welled up, and I started to blub.  Valeria knew just how I was feeling and she started to cry.  Jez looked at the two of us and joined in.  “I don’t know why I’m crying” he sobbed.  Once I had pulled myself together enough to communicate the idea, Jez said, “This sounds like it’s a much better song. It’s real!”

We set to work; after a couple of hours and a few tears we were happy with God Knows I’m Gonna Miss You.  Both Valeria and I were emotionally drained by the writing process.  The first verse tells of dropping a loved one off at an airport.  The listener probably thinks it’s a break-up song.  Verse two reveals the father-daughter relationship.  My favourite line is in the middle section “From the schoolyard to the boarding gate – where did that time go?”

Our original intention was for Valeria to sing the second verse from the daughter’s perspective but she vetoed this, thinking the song was stronger sung from just the father’s point of view.  She is wise beyond her years.

At the playback session, ours was the last song of the night and the last song of the week.  I was worried that I might not be able to keep it together during the performance, as I had yet to do so in rehearsal.  Somehow I did, but it was a close call.

The reaction from our peers was immediate; there were tears rolling down many faces, which is a fine accolade, but my favourite comment was from mentor Martin who singled out the schoolyard to boarding gate line.  It was a fantastic end to a fantastic week.

To be in the company of so many talented songwriters, hear the fruits of their labour, and to witness the camaraderie and mutual respect shown to one another has been so refreshing in a business that is often portrayed as cutthroat.  To be there at the birth of songs, friendships, and potential writing partnerships has been a humbling experience.

There are now 60 more songs in the world that didn’t exist before we all arrived in that Spanish village.  The reality is that many of them will be forgotten, some will get recorded and sit for all eternity on a digital shelf, some might get played live on a stage somewhere, but maybe, just maybe one of them

Back to Kansas City…

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It was probably not a good idea to meet up with my nephew Sam the night before I was to fly to the United States.  We hadn’t seen each other since our epic journey across Ireland filming the video for Restless Celtic Heart.  “Let’s go for a drink, Uncle Tony”…

So next morning, I’m dropped off at Heathrow Airport, nursing a hangover.  I’ll sleep on the plane, I told myself.  How wrong I was.  Despite the early departure time, a group of lads from Essex let the rest of the passengers know just how suitably refreshed with alcohol they were.  They were very vocal throughout the flight making sleep a near impossibility.  When they didn’t appear at baggage reclaim I gave in to feelings of schadenfreude, imagining the frosty reception their barrow boy charm was given by Homeland Security.

I was back in Kansas City, Missouri to promote my recording of Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go – one of the songs I’d written on my 2015 US tour – and had recorded specially.  But my visit was also about catching up with the many friends I’d made in the time I’d spent in KC.  None more so than the ebullient Matt Mayfield who had been my conduit to the many wonderful sights, sounds and people I had encountered in this town which I’ve grown to love.

Kansas City, MO is a people town and my arrival was greeted with a barbecue outside of the warehouse in the historic West Bottoms area of KC where Matt lives.  Many of the people I’d met on my last visit dropped by.  One of them was Emily.

Emily Evans Sloan is a conceptual artist, photographer and serial knitter.  She is also one of the nicest people on the planet.  Her connections in the artistic community opened many doors for me on this trip.  Plus, she chauffeured me around the city on many occasions.

Emily introduced me to Ronan Collins, a wily Dubliner, now resident for many years in KC.  He was responsible for setting up several gigs I would undertake, a radio interview, and a television interview – and all before he had even met me!

The next evening I visited Johnnie’s bar which is mentioned in the KC song.  My friend D-Rock was behind the bar.  He must have seen me crossing the street because just as I entered the bar, my song fired up on the jukebox.  When it finished, everyone in the bar gave a spontaneous round of applause.  I felt so honoured.

This was also the night that my friend Scott Stillwell from Des Moines, Iowa came to visit.  Scott and I met in Nashville two years ago and wrote a couple of songs together.  Last year, he hosted a house concert for me which was a highlight of the tour.

The morning after a night of drinking and singing, Scott and I went for coffee at a new shop down the street in West Bottoms.  The Bottoms is full of derelict warehouses that once housed various long-gone industries.  The area is set for regeneration (hence there being a new coffee shop).  While it is good that the area will be put to good use, we both mourned the passing of the old ways – and so we went back to Matt’s and wrote a song called Used to Be – my favourite line is ‘Loft apartment, hipster fool, a Johnny Cash t-shirt don’t make you cool’.

People in Kansas City love to talk about food – particularly about meat.  I have stood by as they have argued fiercely about different food outlets and their varying reputations.  “Oh, yeah, their burnt ends are good but I prefer the sauce from so and so…”  They will drive across town because they claim the ribs at one place are better than at another.  “Do you prefer Gates or Bryant’s?”  This is just as important as: “Are you for Clinton or Trump?” (incidentally, I never met anyone who was for Trump).

I rarely eat steak.  Not because I don’t like it; I do.  It’s because I’m often disappointed by the fare that is served up to me.  Let me tell you why.  I was in a hotel in Dubai in 1983 where I ate the most wonderful steak dinner;  I believe the meat had been flown in from Colorado.  In the intervening 33 years I have sought to replicate that gastronomic experience.  Actually, less and less as the years have gone by, as the excitement and anticipation that the dish in front of me was the equal or even surpassed my food Nirvana, was gradually replaced by an acceptance that my taste buds would never again attain those dizzy desert heights.  Even dining on steak in Colorado last year I was disappointed.

So when Matt said: “I’m gonna cook steak!” I feigned enthusiasm even though I knew he was a first-rate cook.

Matt spent a lot of time preparing the steak.  And I mean a lot.  At times it seemed more like a scientific experiment than cooking, with the meat being sealed in plastic at one point.

Whatever it was he did – it was worth it.  I almost cried as I bit into the juiciest, tastiest steak I’d eaten in – well 33 years.  And it was served up with morel mushrooms that only appear for two weeks of the year, which he had foraged for himself on the banks of the Missouri River.

Speaking of the Missouri River, Matt suggested we go canoeing on the Mighty Mo.  Everyone to whom we told our plans, warned us of the dangers, that with all the recent rain, the river would be too high and would be moving too fast.  Local canoe rental stores had suspended hires for the duration.  But still we went.  At our departure point, we had to wait while Kansas State Rescue boats that had been out in search of an upturned pontoon manoeuvred their crafts out of the water.  But still we went.

Matt saw us as a modern day Lewis and Clark – intrepid explorers who mapped out uncharted territory in 19th Century America, but in my head I was Daniel Day Lewis’s Hawkeye in Michael Mann’s epic movie Last of the Mohicans.  I scoured the banks for Huron war parties.  At first, we avoided the turbulent parts of the river but after a while we were seeking out fierce eddies, driving our boat headlong into them.  I had the most marvellous time.

We stopped at a riverside casino.  I moved from Day Lewis to De Niro in Martin Scorsese’s Casino.  We played ‘craps’ where you throw dice along a table till it bounces off the back wall.  I had no idea how to play, and the loss limit of thirty dollars that I’d set myself was reached very quickly.

The casino wasn’t at all glamorous.  The bulk of the clientele looked a little sad; there was a sense of desperation in the air, and a look of hopelessness on their faces.  I was glad to get back on the river.

I took part in two live radio sessions.  The first was on KCFX 101 The Fox.  It’s a classic rock station so it was very nice of the host, Brian “The Slacker” Adams to have me on his show.  Once on air, we chatted for a while, I told my story and then I performed the KC song acoustically.  He seemed very happy with the session.  Matt and Emily, who had accompanied me, agreed that it went well.

Hear the interview here: http://bit.ly/1U066Jt

The second radio session was on KKFI River Trade Radio with the softly-spoken Kasey Rausch.  Once again Matt and Emily were by my side.  The interview was interspersed with me performing three live songs.  I started with Nashville State of Mind.  The late night (I had gigged the night before) and the early morning start was starting to catch up with me.  How I forced out a vocal, I have no idea.  Whilst I don’t think the listeners could tell, I could see out the corner of the one eye that wasn’t tearing up, that both Matt and Emily were holding their collective breath in an effort to hold back the almighty cough they knew I was struggling to contain.  Somehow, I did contain it and I started to relax, swimming in Kasey’s velvety voice.  Naturally, I sang Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go and finished with Restless Celtic Heart.

There was also a television interview live on Fox 4 News Morning Show.  We arrived at the TV station at 8.30am and were shown in to the Green Room and offered coffee and water.  I chatted with the guest who would follow me, a vivacious lady named Kim Case Hassler.  A production assistant came in and explained how the session would run.  She was very excited.  I knew this because she told me she was.  She said the interview would last a minute and a half and then the song would air for another minute and a half.  This took me by surprise as it meant I would barely get to perform a verse of the song.  I immediately began mentally editing the song to make it shorter.  The intro could go and likewise the solo section.  She took me through to a small studio which contained two remote-controlled cameras, where Kevin the soundman sound-checked my guitar and vocal mic.  I wouldn’t be able to hear either but would have to rely on the acoustics in the room.  I decided that I could trust him to send a good sound to the control room.  Another technician came in and put a clip mic and radio pack on me which would be used for the interview.  I was then asked to play for 30 seconds in what they referred to as ‘a tease’.  This was to air just before a commercial break with a voiceover of “and after the break, we’ll be talking to singer-songwriter Tony James Shevlin…”

While the commercials ran, one of the TV anchor persons came in.  He identified himself as Nick, and for the next couple of minutes he was my best friend.  I completely missed what he was saying to me as I marvelled at how orange his skin was.

And then we were live on air.  He read the introduction from an autocue;  I looked away from it for fear I might mouth the words along with him.

I thought the interview went well.  This being my third one, I had my patter down to a fine art and I told him how I was on tour in the US last year, came to KC, came back again and again and wrote a song about it.  He threw me a curveball when he asked me about which places in the city I found myself going back to.  I didn’t want to reel of a list of bars I frequented (that could take up the whole interview) so I waffled on for a bit and talked about how I loved the sound of trains.  He seemed to like that.  He announced my remaining show dates and thanked me for writing the song and asked me to play it.  Knowing I was up against the clock, I was up and running before he was out of shot.  From the corner of my eye I saw him leave the room and I never saw him again.  He doesn’t call, he doesn’t write…

It was most disconcerting to have to play against the clock, watching it count down, whilst trying to perform to the million plus people watching in their homes.  It’s only in the second verse of the song that places in KC are mentioned and I was trying to do the mental arithmetic as I sang:  ‘If a verse takes 30 seconds to sing and at halfway through that verse the clock says 19 seconds, how much of the  second verse will be sung….?’.  And the clock ran down to zero.  However, the red light stayed on so I carried on singing.  I ticked off the places in my head as I reached the relevant lyric in the song:  BB’s check; Johnnie’s, Royals check.  Claycomo – didn’t think I’d get that in – check!  I’d just started verse 3 and name-checked Boss Tom (Pendergast, Irishman and political fixer) when the red light went out and Kevin gave me the universal cut sign by pretend slashing his throat.  I learned later that if my performance had been rubbish they would have cut to the studio once the clock had counted down, where the anchors would have bantered humorously until the break but the director decided to stay with me.  Job done.

View the TV appearance here: http://bit.ly/1RwjR0J

The gigs were many and varied.  There are too many to go through but here are some of the highlights.

One was at a bar called the Brick – the Rural Grit show.  There was one microphone that picked up both my vocal and my guitar.  The act on before me was a trio of acoustic guitar, mandolin and fiddle and three-part harmonies.  When one of them took a solo they just stepped closer to the microphone, stepping back when they had finished. Very old school – but it worked brilliantly!

Weston is a small town 30 miles north of Kansas City, where many Irish immigrants settled in the 18th century.  The Stores have names like McCormick’s Country Store, Celtic Ranch and McCalley’s Antique Store.  I was playing O’Malley’s Pub, opening for a great rockabilly band called The Culprits.  After my slot, the band were kind enough to get me up for a couple of numbers.  At one point, I found myself playing stand-up bass alongside the redoubtable CW Hasty.  While I slapped, he fretted!  I also found the time to pop to another bar in the building where Bob Reeder was playing an Irish set.  I ended up sitting in with him and the craic was mighty.

The gig in Matt’s huge loft apartment was one of my favourites.  It was attended by many of my friends; there was a warm and convivial atmosphere and I was able to wax lyrical with stories about how the songs were written.  I also felt comfortable enough to unveil some new songs that will be recorded later this year, and I sold lots of CDs.

My final show was at Browne’s Irish Market which is basically a shop with a deli counter and a bar.  I was surrounded by products which, like me, had made their way across the Atlantic.  Naturally, there was a strong Irish presence in the room; the songs, the blarney, the Guinness, the whisky and the craic flowed.

There were also great nights at the Dubliner and The Bierstation.  In the former I learned a new word ‘fluffer’ and in the latter I got to meet an awesome Celtic band called Ballybricken (you’re going to have to look up the meaning of ‘fluffer’ for yourselves!).

On a professional level, my promotional campaign for Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go has resulted in me selling all of the CDs I brought with me, I’ve increased local awareness of me, and I have opened many artistic doors in the city, which bodes well for the future.

Away from the music, I have had a bloody good time.  I got to taste my friend Rita’s Sicilian sauce which takes three days to make:  “I don’t make it for just anyone!” said Rita.  I drank a pitcher of Margaritas from Ponak’s Mexican Kitchen, and I won money on the Kentucky Derby.  And oh, yes, I got to drive an 18 wheeler truck down the freeway.

Anything can happen in Kansas City, Missouri.

Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go is available from:

iTunes at: http://apple.co/1Uacuhb

Amazon at: http://amzn.to/27V7zuU

Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go

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When I first looked at my US tour itinerary, artfully put together by James Constable of Oh Mercy! Records, Kansas City didn’t really mean that much to me, other than it was a gig destination sandwiched between shows in St. Louis and Omaha.  Little did I know that it would become such an important part of my adventure, and that I would become so enamoured of it and the wonderful people I met there, that I would return not once, not twice – but three times; the last time travelling all the way from Santa Fe, New Mexico in a day, to be with my new friends and share in their July fourth celebrations (a bit too keen, according to the State Trooper who stopped and fined me for speeding in Lawrence County, Kansas).

Each time I came back I met more people who took me to different places.  Being a songwriter, I naturally made notes on each visit, and eventually these musings wound up in a song called Kansas City Won’t Let Me Go.  At the end of my last visit I debuted the song to those present. It went down very well.  They implored me to record it as soon as possible.

Normally, my recording regime is to have all the songs ready and record in stages – the drums one day, bass next, acoustics next and so on.  Although I was not due to go in to record a new album until this summer, I felt compelled to book some studio time and bring this song to life.

My first port of call was the Drum Studio in Ipswich.  Its proprietor – Martin “Webby” Webb – was happy to occupy the drum stool on the session and it wasn’t long before he and I were toying around with different beats.  The eventual part that Webby came up with was deceptively simple (well, he made it look easy!) but was exactly what the song needed.  The track bounces along but has a great feel.

A few days later, I was in Oh Mercy! Records supremo Pete Thompson’s Halfway House studio, hidden away in the Suffolk/Norfolk hinterland, where I replaced the guide acoustic guitars I’d previously put down at Webby’s.  I was also going to replace the guide bass I’d put down but when Pete and I pulled up the faders and listened to what I’d played, we decided there was no need.  It seems that my salute to the bass playing style of the sadly missed Ronnie Lane with its lazy sway was perfectly adequate as it was, it even complemented the drum track (note to self – for better results, from now on, every time I record a bass part, pretend it’s only a guide– it makes for a much more relaxed feel!).

It was time to bring in the big guns – on piano, a man with whom I’ve shared many stages and studios with – the redoubtable Adam Whyatt; and on lead guitar, widely regarded as one of the best blues players in the region – Mr Tim Ainslie.

Adam was up first.  We simply ran the track a couple of times and Adam played through it.  I could tell immediately that between those two takes, we had enough rollicking licks to choose from (as it happens, we only used the first one in its entirety – Adam “One Take” Whyatt!).

When Tim started playing I knew I had chosen wisely.  He’s a very laid-back guy and in the technique that he has honed over many years he can effortlessly mix jazz and blues licks.  He captured perfectly, the tone and timbre of how I heard the song in my head, and his subtle and cool playing conjured up the atmosphere and ambience of the Kansas City I have come to know.

Another day, another session; lead vocal and harmony vocal dispatched pretty quickly (I come from the school of: “If you can’t get it in a couple of takes, you shouldn’t be in the studio at all!”).  We spent longer in the pub than we had in the studio.

After living with a rough mix for a couple of days, I left Pete to work on the final mix, with me coming in at the end to tweak bits here and there (“pan the piano left, a little” / “a tad more bass” etc.).

The next morning I sent the mix to the master of the dark art of mastering – Pete Maher.   As a favour, he mastered the track that morning.  It was quite a buzz to know that I was pushing in ahead of one of his other clients, maybe U2 or Jack White or the Killers or the Rolling Stones.

I’m very pleased with the results.

I can’t wait for my friends in Kansas City to hear it and hope that they like it as much as they did on the fourth of July last year.

Cover photograph: Matt Mayfield

Sleeve design: Sam Devito

You can hear the song at:

Judgement Day

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Here’s another video from our BBC Radio session last month. This is Judgement Day. It features Shane Kirk on guitar and my sister Jules AKA Tiny Diva on backing vocals. You can hear the recorded version of this song on Spotify by typing in Restless Celtic Heart.

Nashville State of Mind

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A few weeks ago veteran broadcaster and all-round good egg, Stephen Foster invited me into the BBC studios in Ipswich, Suffolk to record a live session of five songs.  This is the first of them.  I am joined for the recording by my sister Jules on bass and backing vocal, and by Mr Shane Kirk on slide guitar.  Filming by Unity in Music.  Sound recording and an excellent cup of tea by the wonderful David Butcher.  Enjoy!

Let me tell you all about the new EP…

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So, the new EP Restless Celtic Heart has been released and is available on all the major digital platforms.  I say new, it was actually recorded just over a year ago.  As I was planning my 2015 US tour to promote the album Songs From the Last Chance Saloon, I realised that I had incorporated five new songs into my set and I was concerned that I didn’t have copies of them for any willing audience member wanting to purchase them.  As usual, Oh Mercy! Records supremo Pete Thompson came to my rescue with his innate problem-solving skills.  “Why don’t we record an acoustic EP of the five songs?  We could print up some ‘white label’ CDs to sell at gigs”.  Brilliant! So we did.

On the first of two consecutive afternoons, Pete and I settled into Black Monk Rehearsal Studios and we recorded all of the guitars.  It was meant to be just one guitar and one voice for each song but whenever I get in a studio environment I get ‘studio fever’ and end up overdubbing extra parts.  I used my trusty Takemine acoustic for the main parts in all of the songs except From the Look in Your Eyes;  my Yamaha Folk guitar provided the main part for that, as well as many of the incidental lines on all the other songs, only stepping aside for my dobro for the slide parts on Nashville State of Mind and the later riffs on Restless Celtic Heart.  And just to give the recordings a warm bottom end, I added some bass lines courtesy of my Indie acoustic bass.

The following afternoon, we set up shop in the CSV Rehearsal Studio, where we added a lead vocal on each song, and my sister Jules came in to provide vocal harmonies on three of the five tracks.

Pete and I gave ourselves a few days away from the tracks, reconvening at the end of the week to listen back to what we had recorded.  As we were after a ‘live’ feel, there was very little to mix;  with a little bit of EQ here and a bit of reverb there, we were done and dusted in time for last orders at the local pub.  As with Songs From the Last Chance Saloon, we sent the mixes over to the wonderful Pete Maher – skilled magician in the dark art of mastering!  He took no time at all to make the songs sound shiny and bright.  The whole enterprise from entering the first rehearsal room to mastered tracks took less than a week. Outstanding!

Just over a week later, the record label took delivery of boxes of CDs.

Let me tell you a little bit about the songs on Restless Celtic Heart.

Nashville State of Mind

After finishing the recording of Songs From the Last Chance Saloon, I wanted to go out and play the songs in an acoustic environment to see if they stood up in such a naked state.  Where should I do this?  I know! I’ll go to Nashville, the home of great songwriting!  Despite having no music connections in Tennessee, I was lucky enough to secure some spots in many of the city’s songwriter venues and so I booked a flight and a hotel and off I went.  I had the most amazing time; the welcome from the locals – songwriters in particular – was wonderful.  I wrote the first two verses sitting in my hotel room;  it was right alongside the AT&T building – known locally because of its resemblance to the caped crusader – as the Batman Building;  the final verse was added when I arrived back in the UK.  It’s my salute to the city and the indomitable spirit of the many musicians and songwriters who are its life blood.

Next Big Mistake

I’m standing in a bar, a couple of beers in, with a recently divorced male friend.  He spies an attractive young lady sitting at a table nearby.  Another beer later, they make eye contact.  He smiles at her;  she smiles back.  Flirty smiles are batted back and forth.  I suggest he might let the ink dry on the divorce papers.  “No” he says, “She might just be my next big mistake!”  My songwriting radar goes through the roof.  While I ask the bartender for a pen and paper, he asks the girl if she wants a drink…

Judgement Day

I lost someone very dear to me.  The pain was so raw that I couldn’t even draw upon the cathartic powers of songwriting.  Some years later, I had a dream in which this person came to me and simply said:  “It’s okay.”  The next day, I wrote the first verse and the chorus of this song.  It probably would have remained unfinished but that weekend, both my beautiful daughters were home.  As usual, they persuaded me to take them out for a meal in a posh restaurant.  A waiter took a photograph of us.  He didn’t know it but he had captured perfectly the love and warmth between us.  When I viewed it back later, it occurred to me that this was a photo they would look back on when I was no longer around.  In this somewhat sombre mood I wrote the second verse.  Finally, in an effort to rescue the song from being so morose and melancholy, I wrote the final verse, a manifesto for how I thought my girls should live their lives – with vigour and verve and vitality!  So it’s a song about death but it’s also about life, too!

From the Look in Your Eyes

It has been many years since I had my heart broken but you never forget that moment, when you know, deep down inside, that it’s over.  No words are needed.  A look can say it all.

Restless Celtic Heart

The Irish have always travelled.  Not always because they wanted to – but because they had to.  The further that I travel away from Ireland, the more Irish I become, so it’s no surprise that I wrote this song in Nashville.  The parallels and connections between traditional Irish music and Country music (by way of Bluegrass) are fairly obvious;  and there are many ballads that were brought across the Atlantic by Irish immigrants.  I’d been listening to a lot of Johnny Cash when I wrote this – the intro riff is a not-too-subtle-salute to the man in black.  It’s also a personal tribute to my grandfather and father who personify the spirit and enduring image of the Irish rover.

Restless Celtic Heart is available from Oh Mercy! Records

Download available at: http://www.musicglue.com/oh-mercy-records/

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/id1093198912?app=itunes

See below for video of title track

New EP Released

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The new EP Restless Celtic Heart on Oh Mercy! Records is available now from iTunes, Amazon and Music Glue.

Tracks

  • Nashville State of Mind
  • Next Big Mistake
  • Judgement Day
  • From the Look in Your Eyes
  • Restless Celtic Heart

Check out the video for the title track on Youtube:

 

 

Restless Celtic Heart

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God, I love Ireland.  And I don’t think it’s just because I have an emotional and historical connection to the country.  I think if I was from Kazakhstan, Tahiti or the Central African Republic, I would still fall in love with Ireland – its landscape, its people and its culture.

So it was with a wistful smile that I headed off to Stansted Airport in Essex with the request of Oh Mercy Records label boss Pete Thompson ringing in my ears: “Why don’t you go over to Ireland and film a video for the new EP Restless Celtic Heart?”

As it happens, my nephew, Sam, runs a media company;  he and his business partner were easily talked in to a long weekend traversing Erin’s sacred isle.  Was it the culture, the landscape or the history that drew them over the Irish Sea?  “I hear the Guinness tastes so much better over here,” said producer Alex, as we drove into Dublin city centre.  We had barely checked in before I was whisked off to the first pub we could find.  It just so happened to be Mother Reilly’s – the bar I was playing in that evening.

That first pint did taste bloody good.  Actually, so did the second and the third.  I realised that I was going to have to be the sensible one on this trip – which was a new departure for me.  I insisted we eat and freshen up before the show.  We all ate but I was the only one to return to the hotel; the other two decided they could wait no longer to try out the 18-year-old whisky they had spotted earlier in the bar.

The gig went well.  My songs were well-received, particularly Restless Celtic Heart.  The song is a personal celebration of all the Irish who have left home to travel the world.  It alludes to events in history which the mere mention of (and I didn’t realise this when I wrote the song) would cause such a swell of patriotism when played to an Irish audience.

Sam captured my performance to use in the video, as well as lots of shots of me drinking and chatting with other performers on the bill.  Our first evening in Ireland ended sometime around 1.30am

The next morning, we headed into the city centre’s Temple Bar district and filmed me performing the song to an audio track.  Faced with bemused stares from passers-by, I had to put any inhibitions I had to one side and just go for it.  It was actually a lot of fun.  Unfortunately, rain stopped play and we had to take refuge in a bar.  Where there was Guinness.

Suitably refreshed, we braced the cold weather and filmed me walking along the banks of the River Liffey and over the iconic Harp Bridge.  We ended up in the grounds of Trinity College, whereupon a rain of biblical proportions forced us to find shelter – in a nearby pub.  Where there was Guinness.

Sometime later, we headed west for the town of Nenagh in County Tipperary (and yes, it was a long way).  I was hoping to hook up with Damian, whom I knew years ago when he was a barman at an Irish pub in Ipswich.

At Clare St B&B we were welcomed by James and his wife Bernie who cemented their bid to win the award for ‘Best B&B in Ireland’ with tea and biscuits on arrival, and when James heard we were planning a visit to Figgerty’s (Damian’s pub) insisting on driving us there.

It was great to catch up with Damian;  the Guinness flowed and the craic followed shortly after.  We got talking with two female London black cab drivers visiting the area (Alex ruefully remarked  “We could have done this in Fulham and saved ourselves a lot of time and effort”).  Once the guitar came out, the locals joined in the fun.  Once again Restless Celtic Heart was given the thumbs up.  At 2.30am Damian called a taxi for us but not before offering me a gig in the summer.

Next morning, we sampled our first fried breakfast before heading off to the rugged west coast known as the Wild Atlantic Way.  We stopped to film at the stunning Cliffs of Moher in County Clare.  Ignoring warning signs concerning the precariousness of the cliff edge, Sam set up the camera close to the edge and asked me to stand even closer to the edge.  I played along to the track.  The second take was interrupted when a sudden gust of wind threatened to send my guitar case off into the cold Atlantic Ocean.  Unfortunately, my heroic body-dive onto the fast-moving case while masterfully holding my Martin acoustic up out of harm’s way – was just out of shot and won’t make the final cut!  Take three was curtailed when the expected precipitation arrived, er, unexpectedly.

We took refuge in a café in the small enclave of Doolin.  Just after we ordered food, the rain stopped and the sun shone.  “Can we get that to go?”

Once we felt we had enough stunning backdrops of cliffs, coastlines and castles we headed for the town of Castlebar in County Mayo.

Sam and Alex couldn’t wait to head into the town centre and sample the hustle and bustle of a Saturday night in rural Ireland.  The first bar we came across was called the Irish House.  It’ll be great craic we told ourselves.  The bar was empty.  It seems the whole town was at a nearby GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) match between Mayo and Dublin.  If you forced me to describe to those who are not familiar with GAA how it is played, I would probably say, it’s as if a football team – ‘soccer’ for my US readers – and a rugby team turned up on the same pitch and decided they’d give it a go, anyway.  We watched on a large TV screen and tried to figure out the rules of the game.  The more Guinness we drank, the more it seemed to make sense.

Within minutes of the final whistle being blown, the pub filled up with people who had been at the game (they were the ones soaked or suffering from mild hypothermia).  Whether they were supporters of Mayo or Dublin it did not matter – they were up for the craic.  I had been joined by my young cousin Doreen who lives and works in Castlebar whom I hadn’t seen in years.  Doreen is a lovely, friendly young woman;  she chatted away with Sam and Alex like they were old friends.  This took the lads a little by surprise and they bathed in the warmth this charming colleen brought to the proceedings.  The fact that Doreen is drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hinder the situation, either.

I would have been quite happy to sit and chat all night but Alex was on a mission.  He wanted a sing-song.  He asked the landlord if he would turn off the juke-box and would he mind if his friend got his guitar out and sang some songs.  “Alright, no bother,” came the reply.  I perched on a stool and sang my heart out.  The Dubliners (that’s the people who were from Dublin – not the band) were quick to come over and join in.  When their self-appointed leader, Tom, heard the words to Restless Celtic Heart, he cajoled his friends over to our corner of the bar and made me sing it again.  “Isn’t that feckin’ great?” he asked of no-one in particular.  His friends nodded their agreement.  Each and every one of them bought me a pint of Guinness.  I was starting to think that song royalties in Ireland might be paid in the black stuff.

Next morning (after another fry-up) we headed further into Mayo.  Both Sam and Alex are seasoned world travellers so it was with great relish and pride that I enjoyed their vocal appreciation of the scenic Mayo countryside.  I always have an emotional response whenever I’m home.

Why home?  I didn’t visit Ireland until I was an adult.  It was something of an epiphany.  So many things from my childhood suddenly made sense;  among them were sayings, attitudes and humour.  It was like a missing piece from the jigsaw puzzle of my DNA was slotted into place and I found out who I was.  Someone asked me on that visit, “how long are ye home for?”  It took me a moment to realise that the ‘home’ being talked about was Ireland.  Yes, I thought, I’m home.

Just before the small town of Bangor Erris, there is a small collection of houses known as Brisca where my father was raised in the 1920s.  He had often told stories to me and my siblings of the happy times he spent running wild in the surrounding hills.

Sam filmed me walking past my Dad’s house.  I smiled to myself and wondered what the auld fella would make of me making a music video in his home town.

We headed out to the coast, to the town of Dohooma.  On arrival we were greeted by my cousin Edmund, brother of Doreen and his mother, May (whom I also refer to as my cousin – one day I will have to work out the exact lineage of our dynasty but for now I just refer to all my Irish relations as cousins).  Edmund is the original Irish scallywag;  a sharp wit, a wicked sense of humour and a garrulous gift of the gab.  My crew of two were once again amazed at the warm welcome and the ability to make strangers feel at ease.  Whilst Edmund regaled us with wondrous tales of life in Mayo, May prepared enough food to feed a small army.  It is an Irish mother’s mission in life to first fill those around them with tea, sandwiches, biscuits and cake, and then to follow this with a huge meal – normally a roast of some kind.

We left May cooking, and Edmund took us down to Holmes’s pub.  I walked into the bar to find myself singing and playing guitar on a huge TV screen. “When we heard ye were coming we thought we’d check you out on YouTube,” said Seamus the barman, cheerfully.  “Have ye bought your guitar with ye?”  Proper introductions were made and drink was partaken of.  We met Michaell the landlord, artist and ex-policeman. His credentials were enthused upon with:  “He was the best Garda ever – he never arrested anyone!”

We also met the legend that is Pat.  The fittest 70-year-old you will ever meet.  He tried to convince us that he designed the local golf course and had caught the huge fish that hung over the pub fireplace.  The golf course bit was true.  We drank some Guinness.

I promised to return an hour later with my guitar and sing some songs.  “I’ll be waiting,” assured Pat.

After a 3 course meal, I decided to put on my diva parts and insist that if I was to be the evening’s entertainment that I be allowed to sleep for half-an-hour.  The lads acquiesced and I put my head down.  They let me sleep for an hour, bless them.

Time waits for no man but Pat had waited for us.  The fact that we were three hours late was not mentioned.  Time is different in Ireland.

About another hour later, it was suggested that I pull the guitar from its case and issue in the craic.  Pat was an enthusiastic listener with a comprehensive knowledge of popular music from the 1960s and 1970s.  I took great delight in having him mention an artist or a song and then being able to play it.  Pat, Edmund and Michaell all contributed songs.  The latter sang some very old traditional Irish songs and yet all the young people present knew the words and sang along;  that the younger generations in Ireland have such a good grasp of their musical history never fails to amaze me.

Sam intimated that he would like to film me playing Restless Celtic Heart so I moved from jukebox mode into independent artist mode.  The song got the best response of the weekend, so far.  Every time a new group of people entered the bar, I was asked to repeat the song:  “Listen to this song, will ye. He wrote it!”  It became the most requested song of the night.  And it was a long night.  Pat left at 2.30am but only because his wife came to take him home.  She was good-humoured despite having to get up for work at 7am.  Pat had been in the bar for 15 hours and still walked out unaided – what a legend!

At 3.30am I called time.  I had no more songs and too much Guinness in me.  I do recall being offered a gig there later on in the year.  Our leaving did not put a dent in the enthusiasm of the rest of the assembly to carry on the craic.

Our 9am breakfast became a 10am breakfast but May didn’t bat an eyelid.  We had plans to visit the beautiful Achill Island but we spent far too long in the company of Edmund, May, and popping in on Pat for a cup of tea.  None of which I regret.

The car was dropped off at the tiny airport at Knock.  I could see that Sam and Alex were sad to be leaving.  These two London boys had lost their hearts to Ireland.  By the time we landed in the UK they were already planning a return visit.

I’m always sad to leave Ireland, too.  Perhaps I can pop in on my way back from the US later this year.  Or is that just my restless Celtic heart talking?

 

Tony’s new EP Restless Celtic Heart will be released on Oh Mercy! Records and all the usual digital platforms such as itunes etc on Thursday 17th March

Goodbye 2015…

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Well, what a year that was!

2015 started with a recording session.  Oh Mercy supremo Peter Thompson and I spent two days recording a five-track acoustic EP.  On day one, I recorded acoustic guitars and acoustic bass (and I couldn’t resist a bit of slide on dobro).  On the second day, I recorded the vocals, and was joined by my sister, Jules, who provided some very tasteful harmonies.  The five tracks were mixed in an evening.  All that was left was to have them mastered by the brilliant Pete Maher (U2, Rolling Stones, Katy Perry).

I wanted to record these songs before I flew to the United States as they had all become part of my live set.  The idea was to have a white label CD to sell at the gigs.

At the start of May, I popped over to Belfast to do a few warm-up shows.  It’s one of my favourite cities.  I always love going back to the land of my fathers.

On the 15th May I flew to Nashville, Tennessee.  I spent a couple of weeks there, catching up with friends I’d made on my previous visit and meeting with publishers.  Oh, yes – and I bought the most beautiful Martin guitar!  I had a few shows in and around Nashville, and then on the 1st June, I picked up a Buick LaCrosse sedan and headed out on an 8-week tour that would see me lay my head to rest in 17 States – as far west as San Diego CA, as far north as Des Moines IA, and as far south as Montgomery AL.  It was an amazing time and I met the most wonderful people in places such as Chicago IL, Kansas City MO, St. Louis MO, Omaha NE, Phoenix AR, Colorado Springs CO, Santa Fe NM, Dallas TX and Muscle Shoals AL.  The American people were incredibly warm and generous;  I sold out of CD albums and acoustic EPs.

After driving nearly 11,000 miles I finished off with a week back in Music City, co-writing songs with Nashville-based writers.

I had hoped that on my trip I might be inspired enough to write a couple of songs.  As it turns out I’ve got more than enough for an album.  Since coming home I’ve spent the last couple of months working on them, either editing or demo-ing them.

In 2016, I plan to record a full album of those US-inspired songs.  In the meantime, there’s the release of the acoustic EP to finalise, and a video for one of the songs on it  – Restless Celtic Heart – to be filmed over in Ireland.

And who knows, maybe a return trip to the US to play those new songs?  I’d like that.

Voices

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Suffolk Soul Singers and Friends:

St Peter’s by the Waterfront. 6th December 2015

I love the sound of voices singing in harmony.  It moves me in ways that hearing musical instruments doing the same thing does not.  It’s probably some primeval hangover but I find that there is a sanctuary in the sound of voices bonding and blending, a tranquility in the resultant tone when humans accommodate each others’ vibrations.  Much of the music that has inspired me has contained great harmonies;  the sixties, particularly, was awash with it – the Beatles, the Who, the Hollies, the Beach Boys, CS&N.  When I’m in the recording studio, adding vocal harmonies is the one area where I have to be reigned in and told that there are enough harmonies on the track.  “Oh, just one more,”  I’m often heard to cry.

So it was with much excitement that I answered in the affirmative to a request from my good friend, Andi Hopgood, when she asked if I would like to be a guest vocalist at the Christmas concert of the choir she is musical director of – Suffolk Soul Singers.  I had never sung with a choir, so the chance to sing with 30 voices behind me was too good an opportunity to turn down.

I have known Andi for over 20 years.  We met when she was playing tenor saxophone in a school band and the band that I was playing in was so impressed with her and her two friends (playing alto sax and trumpet) that we asked them to sit in for a few numbers when we were playing locally.  Andi went on to study at the prestigious Guildhall School of Music and Drama and is much in demand these days as a well-respected jazz singer.

Andi sent me a list of the songs she wanted me to sing lead on.  The first was a reggae song made famous by Jimmy Cliff called Hard Road to Travel.  It is a joyous number where the verse in a minor key leads to an exuberant chorus in the major key.  The next song choice alone would have persuaded me to take part; Marc Cohn’s Walking in Memphis.  I was constantly humming this song to myself as I walked the streets of the Tennessee city as part of my US tour earlier this year.  The song meant much more to me now that I had walked “on Beale” and I visited “the Jungle Room”.  Sadly, Muriel no longer plays piano “every Friday at the Hollywood” but they do make a mean fried dill pickle that is worth a visit.

Andi then gave me free reign to perform a couple of songs of my own.  I opted to sing one original composition – Crazy from my album Songs From the Last Chance Saloon (available on Oh Mercy Records) – and in the spirit of Christmas, a solo rendition of the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl’s Fairytale of New York.

My penultimate song would be the Beatles’ Hey Jude, in the hope that the audience would by this time feel like joining in with a rousing outro.  The final song would be Band Aid’s Do They Know it’s Christmas with me playing the part of Paul Young and Bono.

I met with Andi and fellow guest vocalist Gemma Cunningham for a run-through and we checked that the keys suited our voices and that we had been listening to the same versions with the right song structure.  Andi had scored Hard Road to Travel a tone and a half higher than the Jimmy Cliff version but by singing it in the lower octave it sounded fine.  We kept Walking in Memphis in its original key of ‘C’ which is how I have always performed it when I’ve added it to my set list.  Hey Jude, however, was a problem. The Beatles’ original is in the key of ‘F’.  As a young man, I had no problem singing it in this key but as the years have gone by, I have dropped it – first by a semitone to ‘E’ and now another whole tone down to the key of ‘D’ (some unkind critics reviewing Paul McCartney’s performance at the closing ceremony of the London 2012 Olympics suggested it would have been wise for the ex-Beatle to have done the same!).  This key gives me a fighting chance in the screaming outro section “Judy, Judy, Judy” etc.

Prior to the choir getting together,  Andi will have been beavering away in preparation for the rehearsal.  Once the tracks have been chosen, she transcribes the music and then arranges the parts for the three vocal sections – tenors, altos and sopranos.  She then teaches each section their part and brings it all together and conducts them.

A few days before the concert, I attended a full choir rehearsal.  The mainly female members (there are only two men in the line-up) come from all walks of life and varying musical experience.  What they all have in spades is enthusiasm for singing.  Andi castigates and cajoles them in equal measure until she is happy with their performance.  With all the hard work done, I just simply add my voice to the proceedings.  I also meet our instrumental accompanists Simon Brown the pianist and percussionist Pearl Gibson.  It was such a thrill for me to sing with so many voices and it was a bonus that they were such lovely people.  Andi seemed pleased with the results.  I left the rehearsal buzzing and looking forward to the concert.

The venue was the historic St Peter’s Church down near Ipswich’s Waterfront.  The church is mentioned in the Domesday Survey from 1086.  The current building dates from the 15th Century and was used by Cardinal Wolsey as his College chapel.  Like most old churches, the acoustics are wonderful for a largely acoustic show.  The only nod to modernity were the microphones for the lead vocalists plugged into a small PA, which also accommodated my acoustic guitar’s hidden pre-amp.

The concert was sold out.

The choir kicked off with their renditions of the Isley Brothers Harvest for the World, Stevie Wonder’s Love’s in Need and Chaka Khan’s Ain’t Nobody.

Next up were the 18 children who make up the youth choir.  They had elected to sing Meghan Trainor’s Your Lips are Moving.  They were terribly cute. I’m glad I didn’t have to follow them.

That was the job of the adult choir with a spine-tingling version of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s You’re All I Need to Get by.

Then it was my turn.  I have to confess that I was a little out of my comfort zone as I made my way to the front, plugged in my guitar, introduced myself and started to play the opening chords to Hard Road to Travel.  Having established the tempo, Simon and Pearl joined in.  Andi nodded to the choir to start singing.  The difference between a rehearsal and a show never fails to amaze me.  With massive amounts of adrenaline clearly kicking in, the power of the choir behind me took me by surprise. Such energy!  I could sense that their nerves were abating and they were starting to have fun.  That first song was over way too soon for me.

Gemma upped the ante and, accompanied by Simon, she proved herself a very classy singer by belting out a jazzy version of Winter Wonderland.  The choir kept the Christmas theme going with a spirited Deck the Halls.

The mood changed a little for a moving rendition of Sam Smith’s Stay With Me (or should that be Tom Petty’s?).

Gemma came back to the stage to finish off the first set with the John Farnham eighties anthem You’re the Voice.  This is not an easy song to master – but the choir and Gemma – absolutely nailed it!

The second set started with soulful intent with Gemma singing Whitney Houston’s I Go to the Rock.  This set up my rendition of Walking in Memphis rather nicely.  I told the audience of how I had spent time in Memphis and was thrilled to be asked to perform this song with SSS.  Once again, the choir rose to occasion;  their energy transported me back to the banks of the Mississippi and in the words of the song “I sang with all my might”.

The choir left me alone on stage and I sang my song Crazy (complete with a rambling tale of how I came to write the song after a disastrous tour of Ireland).  It went down well and I even had the audience singing along in the chorus by the end.

I have to say that I relished singing Fairytale of New York (again, accompanied by a tale of epic proportions of how I came across the song before its actual release).  It contains the most beautiful melody and heart-rending lyrics that I think are often overshadowed by its boozy bravura.

The choir returned with another Whitney classic Your Love is my Love, and followed this with a great version of Adele’s Rolling in the Deep.

It was time to bring the kids back and they had chosen Olly Murs’s Up.  I didn’t know this song but I’d bet that the X-Factor puppet won’t have sung it any better.  The young ones reminded us that this was a Christmas concert and gave us a swinging version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

Now, it wouldn’t be Christmas without hearing Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You – and Gemma has the pipes to dispatch that one beautifully.  Then I was back on stage to sing Hey Jude as part of our finale.  It was very hard for me not to grin inanely when the choir joined me on the bridges of the song.  And the na na na’s at the end were just out of this world.

Do They Know it’s Christmas was a fitting way to end the show with a rousing a cappella middle section.

I’m pretty sure the audience went home happy;  I know I did.

And the event got me thinking. Next Spring, I’ll be recording a new album of songs I wrote whilst on tour in the US.  One of the planned songs is a tribute to the great musical heritage of Muscle Shoals, Alabama.  It’s called The Singing River, and there might just be room on it for a soulful choir….