Pablo Escobar

I was inspired to write a song about Pablo Escobar after reading Mark Bowden’s excellent book, ‘Killing Pablo: The World’s Greatest Outlaw’, published in 2001. (Also a TV documentary by Wild Eyes Productions for The History Channel in 2002 titled, ’The True Story Of Killing Pablo’ featuring Bowden.) Both detail efforts of the United States and Colombian governments to stop the illegal activities of and his subordinates.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria (December 1, 1949 – December 2, 1993) was a Colombian drug boss of one of the most powerful criminal organizations ever assembled. During the height of his power in the 1980’s, he controlled a vast empire that covered the globe. He made billions of dollars, ordered the murder of hundreds if not thousands of people, and ruled over a personal empire of mansions, airplanes, a private zoo and even his own army of soldiers and hardened criminals.

Escobar had a way of dealing with his enemies: he called it “plata o plomo,” literally, silver or lead. Usually, if a politician, judge or policeman got in his way, he would first attempt to bribe them, and if that didn’t work, he would order them killed, occasionally including their family in the hit. The exact number of honest men and women killed by Escobar is unknown, but it definitely goes well into the hundreds and perhaps into thousands. He was shot by police in 1993 after escaping from prison having kept one step of the authorities for some years. Controversy still reigns over whether he was killed by the CIA (or some other intelligence agency), Colombian police or army, or committed suicide. What is undeniable is that he escaped capture on numerous occasions, usually due to informants or traitors tipping him off.

The story is long and complex (hence the need for a whole book to tell it) and my song simply attempts to capture the essence. The gangster problem, though now reduced to some extent in Colombia, still ravages Central America and shows no sign of abating. The song’s title says it all – that guns, drugs and money are inextricably linked, not only in the producing countries but all along the supply trail and spread out across the world wherever cocaine and similar products are used. I don’t know the answer – though decriminalisation is unlikely to be workable in my opinion for numerous reasons, not least of all the message it would send out that hard drugs are officially approved of. Criminal gangs would still want a piece of the action, and on the streets dealers will continue to operate. Of course, the ‘war’ against drugs is never going to be easy and can’t be won but, as with action to enforce traffic regulations (for example), is one I see no alternative to. There are, I believe, no quick or easy answers, frustrating as that may be for the authorities and public alike; all we can do is reduce the activities of criminals such as Pablo Escobar to a minimum. In the end, the main reason for the illegal drug trade is people’s willingness to pay large sums for them – a case of supply and demand – and that shows no sign of diminishing.

1.     Guns and drugs and money, what a lethal recipe,

That elevates a poor young boy,

And drags a nation to its knees.

Pablo Escobar, so the stories tell,

Legendary leader of the Medellin cartel.

2.     Guns and drugs and money, even the CIA,

Could not stem the rising tide, while the rich el gringos pay.

And Pablo Escobar, like Robin Hood of old,

Applauded by the people in his fortresses of gold.

3.     Guns and drugs and money, now everyone’s for sale,

Bribery and corruption, all along the cocaine trail.

And Pablo Escobar, seems like he never cared,

Has cops and judges taken out, paid off or running scared.

4.     Guns and drugs and money, is nowhere safe to go?

It’s warfare on the city streets from Peru to Mexico.

But Pablo Escobar, escapes a thousand times,

Till on the run, a sniper’s gun, cut short his life of crime.

5.     Of guns and drugs and money, guns and drugs and money.

Guns and drugs and money, my friends.

Where will it ever end?

As In A Lowery Painting

I was driving round Ashington one evening looking for the Miner’s Institute where the folk club was held. Most of the streets looked the same – rather dismal brick terraced houses with little apparent life. Then I came across one street that was different but couldn’t at first think what it was made it so. Stopping for a moment, hoping this might be where the club was, I suddenly realised what made it unlike the others was all the people there were wandering about. I’ve no idea if there was an event going on (there were no signs of it) of if the people here were especially good neighbours. However, it set me thinking how, when I was young, such a scene wouldn’t have seemed unusual. It was like a Lowery painting, I thought, and he only painted what he saw.

There are two main reasons people, especially children, don’t spend time out on the street these days – one is they’re stuck behind TVs and computers so much and the other is they’re afraid of the supposed dangers. Also, most of us go everywhere by car, even local shops or friend’s houses. When I was young my friends and I spent most of our time outdoors playing, and if we wanted to go anywhere we walked or went by bike. I was never accompanied to school, even as young as five, and no constraints were ever put on us going anywhere. Occasionally my mother might ask me, as the eldest, to keep an eye on the two youngest (there were four children in our family) but I generally avoided this responsibility and ran off to be with older kids.

I wrote this song as a nostalgia trip but I hope it rings true for many older people. Kids now have some fantastic gear; mobile phones, video games, computers and unlimited entertainment on many different platforms, but they often don’t have the freedom we had years ago. Also, our unsophisticated and innocent play now seems much richer than the adult-orientated influences children are exposed to from such a young age.

WESTON GREEN  

1.         The house where I grew up in was old, ramshackle and mean,

But it echoed to the laughter of the kids from Weston Green.

On bicycles and box carts, we couldn’t wait to get outside,

Exploring all the neighbourhood and the Wild West countryside.

C.        Far, far away – far, far away.

Far, far away in Weston Green.

Far, far away as in a dream

2.         No computers and no TVs, just an ancient radio,

Or we made our own entertainment – what else did we know?

As soon as school was over not much stopped us being free,

Returning tired and grubby to jam sandwiches for tea.

3.         Now I hear the kids a-talking of amazing games they play,

Way out across the Universe – just a click away.

Fighting all the bad guys – and even World War Three,

On a flat screen for a playground – now that’s their reality.

4.         Down a street the other day in an ordinary town,

I had to stop and wonder and forget the weary frown.

As in a Lowry painting there were children everywhere,

But soon the gloom descended back into the cold night air.

* Weston Green was the name of the common (fields and woodland) opposite our house in Thames Ditton where I lived from about 1953 to 1965.

Show of ands - new album

Show of Hands have a new album out soon – expected to be good, as usual. For me they represent the best of modern folk, combining excellent musicianship and vocals with powerful and original material. They also respect the tradition and usually include a few old songs, usually with great new arrangements. My only quibble, occasionaly, is Steve Knightly’s personal views on politics, religion, etc, entering compositions – though I’d rather have that than bland sentimentality (not one of his faults).

As a singer-songwriter myself I must admit to envying Steve having such a brilliant partner as Phil Beer – if only I could record and play with the likes of him. There’s only so much you can accomplish on your own and, though some singers ruin good material with over-production, there must be many solo performers under-achieving for want of decent back-up.

It’s not just for musical reasons either, a partner in crime boosts confidence and helps share the practical load when organising gigs and travelling, etc. On the downside, of course, you can’t be so flexible when playing with others and must take time to rehearse or you might as well continue alone.

Newcastle Party Girls

I saw Bellowhead on telly recently knocking out New York Girls at some festival for the umpteenth time – everyone waving and bopping like a load of teenies. Seems there are two main criteria for headline ‘folk’ acts these days – especially at festivals – that they should be loud and, preferably, have had a mainstream hit at some time (even if that was a lifetime ago). Do I sound bitter? I guess organisers feel the need to keep the crowd happy, knowing that many aren’t hardcore fans and accept any band with the odd acoustic instrument as being folk. Actually, though I’ve listened mainly to acoustic music for over fifty years, I’m not bothered what style or genre any music is if its good.

Anyway – Speirs and Boden. I looked up New York Girls to find the origins of that song – apparently it’s about an English sailor brushed off by a New York whore who finally decides he’d be better off rounding Cape Horn than bothering with the likes of her. I thought I’d update the story and replaced the Jack Tar with a visiting trucker who dreams of picking up a beautiful hitch-hiker but instead lands up in jail, getting assaulted by a fat female cop along the way. The last verse goes:

So me boys take warning if a trucker you must be,

Beware of violations from the New York State P.D.

Or mabe you’d be better off up north by the old A1,

At least you know those Geordie girls only want to have fun.

As a post-script, my wife and I went into the Toon for some late night shopping last Saturday around 5.30 pm and already there were crowds of lads and lasses raring to go. Many were hen and stag parties, judging by the rude tee shirts, and almost all the girls dressed in as little as possible. My wife was suitably disgusted but I’m afraid I saw it differently. I don’t doubt if I was their age I’d be doing the same. For a few years as a young man I chased after girls, parties and fun, getting drunk as quickly as possible on every occasion. Of course I grew out of it with no harm done – as most people do. Having said that, I do feel sorry for the police, medical staff and, sometimes, families who have to pick up the pieces.

Busker

I took this photo of a busker singing Woody’s songs outside the rather dilapidated theatre in Okemah, where the annual folk festival is held in his name every year.  July, 2012, coincided with the  Centenary of Guthrie’s birth. According to Andrew Collins in Billy Bragg’s biography (Still Suitable For Miners, 2007 edition) the good folk of Okemah refused for many years to have any memorial to their acclaimed son in the town as he was considered too left wing, if not outright communist. However, that’s all changed now and, as well as the festival, there is a statue, large mural and sign by the interstate highway.

No doubt the income from festival goers and tourists played some part in changing local attitudes. Also, of course, Woody is now rightly recognised internationally as being a major songwriter and cultural icon. Maybe the huge development in singer-songwiters from the Sixties onwards would have occured without him but he certainly had a huge influence on many (often unknowingly).

For me, he was always the number one reason for starting to write songs. His rambling lifestyle also prompted me to hit the road (along with Jack Kerouac) with a guitar on my back, little or no cash in my pocket, but plenty of crazy dreams in my heart. So it was that visiting Woody Fest in 2010 was like a dream come true. I also got to sing my tribute song on the Crystal Theatre stage (where, according to legend, the man himself once performed).

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

Where is everybody?

I came all this way for this?

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?

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.