Elijah Wald, in his great book about Robert Johnson, ‘Escaping The Delta’, makes the point that most blues players like Johnson aspired to be the pop stars of their day. On discovering blues music in the Sixties many of their mainly white middle-class fans were happy to go along with the legends of struggling, poverty-stricken, musicians who sold their soul to the devil and played on street corners for loose change – dying in bar-room brawls or from drink or drugs, etc. However, these blues musicians were keen to distance themselves from their humble beginnings, often wearing smart suits and driving expensive cars as soon as they could afford them. Many bands too, such as the Stones, Fleetwood Mac and Led Zeppelin, etc, which took most of their initial inspiration from blues artists like Robert Johnson, though they sang about street life were soon buying expensive real estate and becoming part of the establishment.

In my book, ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand’, I tell the tale of a young guitar strumming blues enthusiast who bums around seeking his fortune. I say, ‘It didn’t take much intelligence to see, reading the lyrics of most blues numbers, these guys had incredibly tough and evenbleak lives – yet many youngsters like me were not deterred.’ However, despite our dedication, maybe we were  missing the point?

Incidentally, any similarity between this much reproduced picture of Robert Johnson and the illustration of Geronimo on my book cover is entirely intentional.

 John G. Lowe (accordionist and narrator of ballads)

Positive comments included; ‘The book’s Prologue is extremely interesting, leads you into the book and wanting more. I found the subject matter fascinating and, in all honesty, didn’t want to put it down. I would probably recommend anybody to read this book, irrespective of whether they are interested in the subject matter, or just want a good read.’

 The chief negative comment was over the footnotes at the back of the book. ‘By their very nature,’ says the reader, ‘they should be at the bottom of the page or, preferably, included as part of the text.’ In my defence, I had great difficulty with this matter myself and in the end decided placing the footnotes at the end for two reasons; first, some were too long to place at the foot of pages (or within the main text) without interfering greatly with page layout and, secondly, I intend eventually to publish the book digitally and these notes will by accessed by links (not only to text but also music and audio-visual clips, etc) and so the present arrangement was a temporary expedient only.

 Dave Minikin (folk singer and club organiser)

Positive; ‘I like it very much, what I have read. It hits the nostalgia buttons, big time. I like the honesty and also the naivity of what you have written and the way you have written it. I do not like the fact that the text is not justified, but that is a personal thing. I like justification as it tends to look messy otherwise. The pictures are good as well and fit in well.

 Negative; ‘I am not sure about the CD. I think it is rather loud and does not do you justice. Again a matter of taste.’

 As I said to Dave, the lack of text justification was simply an oversight and will be rectified for the next edition. With regards the CD, it was the best I could do in the short time and limited budget. Ideally I’d like to get more musicians involved and be able to take more time trying different approaches, etc. However, Dave is predominantly a traditional singer and has a certain view – and music is, after all, a very personal thing.

 Trev Reed (Few Broth singer and guitarist)

Trevor said simply; ‘I’m very impressed! I read the lot in two days. It’s all my era too so I could relate to everything in it. CD is excellent as well. Catch you at the Berkeley in a few weeks time.’

 Matthew Baker (my brother – big music fan but not a musician)

‘Really enjoyed the book and found it hard to put down. Enjoyed trying to work out what was autobiographical and what was fiction – some things I knew, obviously, but others I had no idea about.’ (He’s six years younger than me and wouldn’t have witnessed many of my adventures.) Consequently his only negative comment was that he wasn’t mentioned much – though my other brother is (he’s nearer my age).

My guitar's had a baby!

I bought this Lanikai ukelele at Window’s Music Shop in Newcastle for £180 a couple of weeks ago. I’d only gone in for a new harmonica but, as usual, couldn’t resist trying out various instruments. This one, which has eight paired strings, had a beautiful tone and seemed quite easy to play. The tuning is the standard, G C E A, which is similar to a guitar but three tones higher.

After trying out a few songs, discovering that for me the best keys to play were G and C, I christened the uke with a newly written number called ‘Heart and Soul’ which, though it was more limiting than on a guitar, gave it quite a dynamic feel. Naturally, it works best on up-tempo bluesy or humorous material. Anyway, two weeks after getting my new baby I’m still having fun.

RISK OF EXPLOSION

I’ve been passing this old industrial site for years and often wondered what it once was, and why the warning sign. When writing ‘The Singer-Songwriter’s Last Stand’ I asked people at local folk clubs. Someone told me they thought it was an old glass factory. Further research revealed that it was a specialist company, originally called ‘The Thermal Syndicate’, set up to exploit a process invented by Dr J F Bottomley for producing transluscent silica from high purity sand. Over the years the company changed its name and was merged with other companies and eventually closed down in the 1990s. Though some people recall occassional bangs from the site when it was still in production, the reasons were unclear and there seemed no danger to local residents or passers by.

The sign did give me an idea for a song however, partly based on Woody Guthrie’s composition ‘Lonesome Valley’ and also my own thoughts on the many dangers inherent in every human activity.

‘There’s a risk of explosion wherever you go,                                                                                         But the risk of going nowhere is the worst risk I know…’