Folk Words Interview
Interview with Folk Words online magazine, April 2012.
Contact: http://www.folkwords.com
‘The Singer Songwriter’s Last Stand’ is both a book and an album. Neither is totally autobiographical. Neither is inextricably linked to the other. However, there’s an affinity between the two worth investigating. We decided to explore the world behind the album and the book with their creator Maurice Baker.
FW: An album and book together – what was the inspiration?
MB: Whenever I hear songs I often think about the ‘back-story’ behind them – ‘there must be more to it than just the songs’. I decided to put some of my songs into a story and extend their themes. I’ve previously written a few children’s novels so thought I’d try to explore the wider narrative behind some of my songs by creating a story.
FW: How did you invent the Arthur Grimsby character in the book?
MB: When I first started singing in folk clubs in the 60’s the singer songwriter frequently received a tough reception. In fact, in some places it still happens today. And it’s not only in purely traditional folk clubs. When you say you’re a singer songwriter some people look askance at you. It’s as if they’re amazed that you have the temerity to write and perform your own material. So I used to say that my songs were written by this fictional character called Arthur Grimsby – and it just stuck.
FW: The book is about Alwyn Stevens, billed as your alter-ego and Arthur Grimsby, a ghostly musician. Where do reality and fiction part company?
MB: Once I had the initial idea I decided to develop the Arthur Grimsby character. Who was he? What was he like? So although he’s fictional he is based on a number of personal incidents and experiences. As he ‘developed’ I realised this was the way to write the book. There’s also an influence from people I knew or admired. In some way a song from the album inspires each chapter in the book – although the connection isn’t necessarily literal.
FW: Do the book and album carry a serious note despite the humour?
MB: The story began as a joke many years ago when I won an East of England song writing competition. We played on the stage at the Marquee club in Wardour Street – this was something special. It forged a lot of memories. There’s a room behind stage (you wouldn’t call it a Green Room) with performers’ names scratched into the paint – a lot of history there. Anyway we all got pretty short shrift from the audience and ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Song’ sums up a lot of my feelings, even though I embellished the outcome.
There’s observational humour; perhaps it’s a little tongue in cheek but it works for me. We’ll have to see if it works for the audience. There’s also the desire to convey experiences using humour rather than get too deep into a subject at a serious level.
FW: Does flow of the book mirror any specific sequence of events?
MB: Quite a lot of the personal things are true as is the timing. However, you do have to embellish or delete elements that could bore your readers or possibly put you in prison. So I’ve modified events accordingly.
FW: Did you do any direct research for the book?
MB: A trip to America was integral to the book. I investigated a lot of material on Woody Guthrie and found this festival in Oklahoma. They don’t just feature his songs but songs in the ‘spirit’ of Woody Guthrie. They had this song writing competition and I thought ‘why not?’ I submitted three songs and much to my surprise I won a prize. This gave me the chance to play on the main stage. It was an amazing feeling – almost like going home.
When you travel it’s a double edged sword. Part of you likes the adventure and part is awestruck by the fact that you’re far away from everyone. Then something happens that makes you feel as though you’re where you belong. So my fictional characters and songs take in some of those elements.
FW: Was that event a contributing influence to the singer songwriter theme?
MB: There are lots of places to sing in America. Many that seem more accepting of singer songwriters than we are here – there’s no feeling that you’re being a bit presumptuous singing your own songs. It’s as though they expect it rather than being suspicious of it.
FW: So the inspiration is Guthrie’s music?
MB: His influence and those of people like Kerouac took the story beyond being ‘something inside my head’ into the real world. Guthrie took his influences from all over the place and I do too. For instance the song ‘Risk of Explosion’ is based on one incident.
On the road to Whitley Bay there is sign in an empty field – an old industrial site – saying: “Warning Risk of Explosion.” After I’d passed it a few times I asked people about it and no one really knew. But it just stuck in my head. That’s why I put it into the introduction of the book. It’s back to wondering where songs come from, not only from experience, people and places but also from a sign at the side of the road.
FW: So that song wasn’t written specifically for the book?
MB: No, I didn’t write that song for the book but I’m trying to say the influences come from all over the place and from anywhere in time. I’m writing about things I’m experiencing now but with memories that come from years ago. My father died when I was very young and I wasn’t really aware the effect it had on me, or influenced the directions the I took and the way I thought. The journey of the book and album includes re-discovering my own past and where I am right now.
FW: ‘The Hard Travelling Man’ – is that an homage to Guthrie?
MB: In some ways I see it as a bit of a corny song but I really enjoy singing it – I suppose it is a bit of a homage.
FW: With a career as a teacher and a children’s author how did the return to music come about?
MB: I drifted away from the folk music scene for lots of reasons – you can only fit so much into your time. Then one day saw an advert for a local folk club and went along and I found my way back into performing music. That’s one aspect I like performing – I also like albums that reflect performances.
When artists create an album sometimes it doesn’t really do justice to the song and the live performance. There was a singer songwriter I heard when I was in America. He was really good so I bought his album. Now, although it was well produced the album could have been anyone it simply was not the artist I heard – that’s why I strive for an unadulterated feel to my songs.
FW: Did you plan any links between the songs and the book?
MB: There is no direct link between the songs and the book as such. There were certain songs I wanted to include even if I didn’t know how I was going to do it. To be honest I couldn’t find a real plan. It grew organically. It’s a bit like travelling when you’re young – you set off for somewhere but without a plan have and no real idea about how you’re going to achieve your goals but sometimes they just happen. As I said, the germ of an idea was something I’d had in the back of my mind for years. Then as it grew it took on a certain life of its own.
FW: Will we hear more about Alwyn Stevens and Arthur Grimsby one day?
MB: In my head the book is a trilogy telling their story and recording their experiences. The ideas are there and I want to take it on to the next stage. We just have to see what develops. The influences, my experiences and the people – Guthrie, Ginsberg and Kerouac – won’t going away it’s just harnessing them that takes the time.
Tim Carroll – April 2012
Folk Words book and CD review
Folk Words (online music magazine) book and CD review
Even a cursory listen to ‘The Singer Songwriter’s Last Stand’ album by Maurice Baker reinforces the overriding essence of his work – sharp, witty, perceptive lyrics delivered with a distinctive voice that holds just the right tone of aggrieved angst. But you won’t stop at a ‘quick listen’ – once you hear ‘The Singer Songwriter’s Last Stand’ you will play it again and again. And were the album not sufficient, Maurice has also employed his mean turn of phrase to produce a compelling book that sits alongside the album.
The songs are unrefined and natural and that’s exactly how they’re meant to be. Their unadulterated edge pulls you into their alluring, questing narratives and holds your attention. They span the influences of rootless social iconoclasts such as Woody Guthrie and Seasick Steve and antagonistic life-observers such as Alan Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. And it’s true to say that Maurice the singer-songwriter is perfectly at home in that company – and in case you’re curious that’s the praise it’s meant to be.
The book ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand’ is fact-based but fictional, and focuses on Maurice’s travels through his musical landscape. It’s also filled with insightful, poignant and droll observations, and not a little irony. A song from the album inspires each chapter in the book – although as Maurice is at pains to point out, the connection isn’t necessarily literal. The story concerns Alwyn Stevens (Maurice’s alter-ego) and Arthur Grimsby (a ghostly musician) who, meeting one Newcastle morning, engage in a road-trip of discovery.
There are some remarkable songs on the album. ‘Risk of Explosion’ is one that immediately hits the spot – lyrics, vocals, melody – all catch the ear and make you think ‘I’ve been there’. And for many of us the same will apply to ‘My Old Friend’ with its powerful emotive delivery and the sorrowful ‘Knocking Down Kingston Bridge’. There’s a reflective almost anthemic feel to ‘Down By The Station’ and ‘Hard Travelling Man’ with their inspired melody hooks and agonizing stories. While an infectious intense blues grandeur holds ‘The Gambler’; there’s the deliciously satirical narrative of the eponymous anecdote ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Song’ – these are all songs to savour.
On the album The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand’ Maurice sings and plays guitar banjo and bouzouki. He’s also aided by Dan and Sam Burt who between them handle electric guitar, keyboards, bass, drums, percussion and backing vocals. The book ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand’ and the album are available online at Maurice’s web site www.songtales co.uk – so go there and get them. You will not be disappointed.
By Tim Carroll
Give The Singer-Songwriter A Bloody Chance
Finally we have lift-off. Paperbooks (an imprint of Legend Publishing) have completed the printing and The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand and is out now on Amazon and should soon be stocked in stores. The accompanying CD of the same name is also listed on Amazon and other sites for download or as a hard copy. It’s been a long and arduous journey – as my friend Jimmy from singing duo Jiva (who built the website) said recently, the musical bit it is the fun part – the real work is organisational, management, selling, etc. And, unless you’re an established player with a team to back you up, all that has to be done mostly alone and unseen.
But this is just the beginning. Now we have to get news of the book and CD out there to potential customers. It’s a daunting prospect as there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of ways to do this through media sources such as magazines, newspapers, radio stations, websites, and so on – then promotional events to attend in shops, libraries, music venues, etc. It could be fun, but also hard work and with much uncertainty about the outcome.
A couple of weeks ago I attended a workshop in London’s Charing Cross Road run by my publisher on many aspects of the writing business (for business it very much should be considered, we were told). Many valuable points were made but probably the most important (assuming one has written a decent book in the first place) was simply to be as energetic as possible in promoting one’s work. What more is there to say?
Seasick Steve & Me
Authentic hobbo or not, Seasick Steve has earnt his late popularity in my book. Though I’ve not met him personally he comes across as a genuine guy with something to say. He’s also a great entertainer. I’ve seen him live a couple of times in Newcastle and not surprised to find fans of all ages crying out, ‘Stevo! Stevo!’
I quote one of his songs in my book, ‘Never go west when you know you should be heading south.’ Or whatever. Like him I’ve done my fair share of bumming around, mostly as a teenager, and yet still harbour dreams of recognition for my songs and other writing. Who knows? If he can do it at nearly seventy, why not me? Or anyone else? There must be a fair few talented old timers out there creating great music in remote clubs and pubs. Let’s hear ‘em. Down with ageism in music I say.
Hey Geronimo!
‘Why is Geronimo on the cover of your book? What’s he got to do with being a singer-songwriter?’
I was asked these questions recently by a BBC film maker when discussing ideas for making a short documentary. ‘Shouldn’t the illustration give potential customers an idea of what’s inside,’ she said, pointedly.
‘Well,’I hesitated, ‘do you read books?’
‘Not much,’ she admitted. ‘But I look at lots of emails and tweets.’
Now I could see why she had a problem with the picture (and would no doubt have preferred a celeb’s mug shot, preferably drunk and half dressed). Unlike me she obviously didn’t waste hours in book shops and libraries, allowing curiosity to get the better of her. For me, and any true reader (I thought), the contrast of a title like, THE SINGER-SONGWRITER’S LAST STAND against the picture of a long dead Apache war chief holding a guitar, would be enough to arouse interest. But, it seemed, not for her. And, maybe not for many others; eyes glued to screens all day and night and whose only knowledge of books was when they got made into films.
‘Hey Geronimo!’ in fact, was the title of a flop single put out by the hero of my book, struggling young musician Alwyn Stevens. The story, based on my own and others experiences in the music world, is set in the Sixties and present day. Arthur Grimsby, the other main character, is a kind of beatnik Svengali, who lures innocent Al away from the suburban mainstream into a meandering life of musical crime. The ‘last stand’, by the way, may not only be Geronimo’s but also the novel’s main players – and possibly signals the end of the line for many old style singer-songwriter’s. Let’s face it, successful composers don’t need to play an instrument now any more than author’s need to write – technology (or ghost writers) can do all those arduous time-wasting things while more important jobs like promotion and selling can be got on with.
Ghost Train
It wasn’t Halloween that inspired my latest song-writing attempt, not intentionally anyway. The title and chorus, plus the A minor riff, got me going – destination unknown. Then it became a lament for rock and roll, and perhaps a lot else. Despite the incredible advances in technology, music doesn’t necessarily get better – often just more easy to access. The sheer difficulty of finding rock music in the Fifties and Sixties , meant people valued it more. And after all, a good song performed well will always prevail no matter how poor the sound system or venue, etc.
Today it blares out everywhere – shops, offices, restaurants, etc – becoming meaningless. Technology makes faking it much easier since you can get a great sound without any talent. Cheap and easy access also makes music commonplace. Where to next? I don’t know, but there’ll always be a desire to comunicate – to be creative and share that creativity. The strange thing about music however, given the few notes available, is that the possibility for new configurations are almost limitless. And, as life changes, we’ll always want to reflect our experiences.
So, don’t weep for rock and roll – or any other format – they’re just names. But the music goes on.
Oh this ghost train’s running out of control.
But it never was a way to save your soul.
No, no. No, no. Ghost train. Ghost train.
Called rock and roll.
Now there’s no use lying down on the track,
Cause those glory days ain’t coming back, Jack.
No theme park ticket you can buy,
Will ever get you a slice of Yanky pie.
It was all a lie.
Just an illusion of mirrors and lights ,
Screaming women in lurex tights – on drunken nights.
Ghost train!
New Agent and Publisher
At last I have been fortunate enough to find a literary agent to represent my work. Though I was quite prepared to go it alone – in fact was beginning to see no other choice – about three months ago I had a call from Darin Jewell at the Inspira Agency who said he liked my book and was prepared to try and find a publisher for it. Even though I’d already had it printed myself I felt it would have greater credibility coming from a respected publisher. Many authors self publish these days and, though ‘vanity’ publishing has less stigma than it used to, reviewers are obviously much less likely bother with these. And, if you want to sell to the wider public, then good reviews are a must.
Sam Baker
Met up with Sam Baker (no relation) last night (16-09-11) after his gig at Newcastle’s Live Theatre and gave hima copy of my book. He asked if I’d done the illustrations (yes) and when I showed him the one of him being blown up said, ‘Yes, it was just like that.’ Since the drawing was done entirely from imagination it was quite a compliment – though maybe he was just being nice. He is a nice guy actually and seems to have a genuine affection for his fans, hugging both men and women indiscriminately both on stage and off. Normally I would be put off by that but it seems genuine.
One thing that struck me last night (brilliantly supported by Chip Dolan on piano, along with Betty Soo, vocals, and Doug Cox on dobro guitar) was the poetry of his songs. No great guitarist or singer, the power of his material is in the evocative words. Looking at the beautifully stark photos on his website (which Sam took himself) one gets an inkling into the vision captured in the songs – superficially light and picturesque but with deeper strains of menace or tragedy. On stage his banter is often easy-going and jokey, but the content of the songs can be dark and twisted, though ultimately hopeful.
It’s obviously impossible to say what effect the horrific injuries and subsequent medical problems suffered from being a victim of a terrorist bomb in the late Eighties, but one suspects it’s these experiences which have been the main influence and given him a unique view. His vocal delivery, somewhat sparse and stacato, was, he says, the result of memory loss following brain injuries. Last night none of that was mentioned, nor did he sing Broken Fingers in which he refers to it obliquely, but he must get bored with talking about it. Nevertheless, even if you didn’t know, most people would guess he’s seen some hard times. He even includes the old Stephen Foster number ‘Hard Times’ in the introduction to Odessa, a song describing the fate of a spoilt oil baron’s son who kills his girlfriend drive a Corvette too fast – though daddy’s money ‘made the lawyers go away’.
Anyway, I hope he likes my book. Sam’s story is included as an important inspiration to me, and I meant it. He overcame many difficulties to recover from his injuries and still fulfill his musical ambitions. If he can do it?
A Stupid Thing
In an interview about music criticism, Elvis Costello said, ‘Writing about music is
like dancing about architecture. It’s a really stupid thing to want to do.’
Though the man was right in one sense he was also way off beam in others, especially
singer-songwriters, if the number of books still coming out on Dylan, Hendrix,
Jim Morrison, The Beatles and many others are anything to go by.
Nearly two years ago, in preparation for the task of writing my book, I signed up for some writing workshops. At the time I’d written maybe half a chapter and had little more than a sketchy plan of the rest. However, I did have an overall concept which was that the book would focus on songwriters and each chapter take the lyrics of a song as its inspiration (an idea I’d had for many years). The book would also be accompanied by a CD of the material used. My reasoning was that most songs have a history; the composer’s, the artist’s and musician’s,
the recording company’s, etc, who’ve either sung or listened to them, or been affected in some other way. Hence the book’s subtitle, ‘Song Tales’. I knew I had many personal experiences worth telling, especially from my youth trailing around the pubs, clubs and coffee bars in pursuit of gigs, but also wanted to weave these into a wider narrative – maybe even make the book semi-fictional. I also hoped to include some factual information, maybe as footnotes, and later as audio-visual material on an ebook version or website. High hopes indeed – but could I pull it off?
I brought my first few pages along to the workshop, feeling quite nervous even though everyone was very friendly and supportive. Part of this apprehension was due to the fact that for over thirty years the main recipients of my songs, stories and plays had been school kids. It was a long time since I’d had to face an adult audience, though was recently singing in folk clubs again, and found even a few polite adults far more intimidating than a hall full of noisy children.
There was also another concern; my story did not fit into any conventional genre (crime, romance, fantasy, etc) and alsobincluded quite a few expletives. Though I personally dislike swearing, it’s obvious that for narrative reality one must include it. Previously I had written children’s novels where, not wanting to alienate publishers, I’d avoided them or used softer alternatives (though in real life many children use far worse language than adults). But a grown-up novel set in modern times, especially with musicians as the main protagonists, that did not include
swearing was unthinkable. However, I felt tense reading my piece out, especially as most of the other writers were quite a middle-aged lot employing much gentler language and subject matter. One elderly man read a moving article he’d written about his very personal spiritual experiences and, as he did so, I felt embarrassed on everyone’s behalf at my relative crudity.
Nevertheless, I got a lot from the workshops (though don’t ask me to be specific), and returned home with renewed energy, finishing the final edit earlier this year. But now comes the hard part – promoting it. As an old music publisher friend once said to me, ‘Artists think they’re the creative ones, but the real creativity comes in flogging the damn stuff.’






