Just before Christmas I was contacted, out of the blue, by Nessy Mon (Vanessa Monaghan) who hosts a radio show for the Irish National Broadcaster RTE.
Nessy’s show is on RTE2XM and is called, ‘The London Ear’.
It’s core audience is the large London Irish community.
Nessy told me that she was a long time fan of The Immortal Jukebox and generously invited me onto her show to talk about my background and the history of The Immortal Jukebox.
I was delighted to accept her invitation and was very pleased that I was given so much time on the show.
In addition to our discussion the show also features Jukebox favourites Van Morrison singing, ‘Brand New Day’ and Roy Orbison crooning, ‘Pretty Paper’
I thought my core audience would like to listen in!
The link below should take you to the show – my section starts from 24 minutes and runs for about 25 minutes.
We have exchanged the woods and swooping Hills of Surrey for the heaths and lakes on the edge of the glorious South Downs.
New home. New School. Packing up. Moving on. Moving on up.
Actually 39 steps up.
Which seemed, when we first viewed the apartment, a good way to get the heart pumping and the blood pressure lowering each time those 39 steps were climbed.
But. But. Carrying 2200 books up those 39 steps proved a little more than a toning exercise.
Consider the equation.
2200 books times 39 steps equals one very tired hombre!
I’m not even contemplating the Vinyl issue.
I never have trouble sleeping.
But last night you’d have to measure the time between my head hitting the pillow and me lying in the arms of Morpheus in micro seconds.
A full fathom five sleep caressed by whispered dreams.
A sound spiralling and spiralling in and out of consciousness resolving at 6am into a name.
Jack. Jacques. Jack.
And, as always with me, a song.
Not take me right back to the track Jack.
Not you go back, Jack, do it again.
Not hey Jack Kerouac.
No, the song Finnegan flowing through my dreaming mind was ‘Jack Gets Up’ by Guitar maestro Leo Kottke.
‘Everyday in the morning when you get up and you crawl out of bed
And you crawl out of bed and you crawl out of bed
Everyday in the morning when you get up and you crawl out of bed
And you look at the moon where the window is
And the stars shine, and the stars shine, and the stars shine
Everyday in the morning when you get up and you crawl out of bed
You crawl out. You crawl out. But the Moon and the Stars shine.
It’s another day of your life. Fresh white paper to leave your impression on.
Leo Kottke has been places and seen things carrying his guitar all the while.
He has developed a masters command of his instrument playing with a rare combination of finesse and feeling. Now, when you’re trying to hold an audience with self composed instrumental music it helps if you can tell a few stories too.
As shaggy dog stories go it would be hard to beat, ‘Jack Gets Up’. It exercises a hypnotic hold on your imagination as your mind knots itself trying to disentangle meaning and meanings from the lyric.
The allusions and resonances will appeal to each of us according to our different characters and histories and our capacity for daytime dreaming.
Perhaps we are all asleep in the same dream. But, whose dream? Whose dream.
I know well that feeling of seeing your Father’s face in he mirror and the thin grin … the thin grin as you ready yourself for the challenges of the day ahead.
Every life has lots of lint in the pocket. You mean to clear it out but it builds up. It builds up.
And, where, oh where, are my car keys! Probably next to my glasses!
Life resolves down to a process of finding and losing, finding and losing – on every level from the most trivial to the most cosmically important.
Tears in the bank and the credit card we all know about.
Yet, and this is the glory of life; once in a while the wind blows and the heart winds and the heart winds.
The brown ground and the worms patiently wait for us all.
So today as you crawl out of bed leaving the snort fort behind remember that the stars are shining above you and the Moon will light your night as the Sun will light your day.
And, once in a while when the wind blows and your heart winds, your heart winds grant yourself a grateful wide grin.
May the wind blow for you today.
Hats off to Jack and Jacques:
It happens that, after Tom, Jack is my favourite male name.
So, I take this opportunity to thank some of the Jacks and Jacques who have inspired and illuminated my life.
Jack Kennedy (you all know about him!)
Jacques Levy – Songwriter and Seer – ‘Isis, oh, Isis, you mystical child.’
Jack Nicholson – a couple of tequilas to the good I sometimes act out some of my favourite Jack Nicholson lines. My absolute favourite, from The Last Detail, being:
‘I am the motherfucking shore patrol, motherfucker! I am the motherfucking shore patrol! GIve this man a beer.’
Jacques Tourneur – Film Director. He directed troubling thrillers and heart stopping noirs like I Walked with a Zombie and Cat People.
Always playing at The Immortal Drive In is his classic Out of The Past (build my gallows high baby!) starring an unmatchable Robert Mitchum and the most fatale of all femme fatales Jane Greer.
Jack Johnson – World Heavyweight Champion and iconic African American.
Jacques Prevert – Poet, Screenwriter. A very cool homme indeed. His, ‘Paroles’ travels everywhere with me (yes – up all those 39 steps)
Jack London – A writer whose hallucinatory gift for narrative grows more impressive the more I strive to tell stories.
Jacques Anquetil – He sure could ride a bike!
Jack Kellett – He plays a mean guitar.
Jack O’Toole – He sure did like a pint!
Jack Kerouac – the Beat goes on. And on. And on.
Jack Lord – Book ‘Em Danno.
Jack The Ripper (whose real identity was of course ……)
Jack Elam – as soon as you see Jack’s name in the credits you can relax. One fine Western coming up!
Father Jack – ‘Drink! Feck! Arse! Girls!’
Jacques Derrida – What was he on about?
Jack Bruce – a true musician. Check out his Sings for a Tailor immediately!
Jack Palance – Boxer, Actor – in certain lights (principally the light of my imagination) I have been mistaken for JP.
Jack Teagarden – He played sublime Trombone and sang the Blues with deep feeling.
David ‘Jack’ Hayes – Father and Son, fine men both!
Jacques Tati – if you ever need cheering up …
Jack Nicklaus – If you wanted one Golfer to play a round for your life …
Oh and as we all know … ‘There was no actor anywhere better than the Jack of Hearts.’
By Public Demand more Jacks, Jacques, oh and while we’re at it 3 Jakes!
Many of my faithful readers have demanded favourite Jacks & Jacques to be added to the Jukebox Rollcall of Honour. So:
Thanks to Cincinnati Babyhead for ‘Jack’ the Dog from The Band’s classic The Weight.
Thanks to Beetley Pete for Jacques Brel, the great Chanson writer and famous Belgian (more on him later)
Thanks to Elmer Gantry for Jack Doyle fabled Irish Boxer.
While we’re on Boxers how could I have left out Jack Dempsey!
Jacques Cousteau dove pretty deep!
Jacques Rousseau knew a thing or too!
Jack Benny played the Violin (though not on Desolation Row)
Jack Reacher’s out there somewhere waiting for trouble to clear up.
Jake Thackray had wit and style and wrote songs like nobody else.
Jake LaMotta – boy could he take a punch!
And to wrap it all up – ‘Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.
‘Now that I’m a man I think I understand sometimes everyone must sing this song
Um, um,um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um’
The songwriting genius of Curtis Mayfield and the seductive tones of Major Lance combine to create a Chicago Soul masterpiece and an anthem for us all in these, ‘interesting times’.
It may not surprise long term readers of The Jukebox to learn that I am a compulsive journal keeper.
I read a lot of newspapers and subscribe to a wide selection of specialist magazines which I scrupulously annotate before I make journal entries trying to pin down my version of posterity.
To make it easier to look up one of my particular interests later I prefix every entry with a code letter.
So, if an entry concerns Ireland an ‘I’ precedes the text. My memorials of notable deaths have, ‘Obit’ in front.
And so on.
There is one prefix which seems to be cropping up more and more these days demanded by articles I have read which have had my eyebrows shooting up to the skies in my bewildered head. That prefix is (!!).
(!!) does not necessarily indicate approval or disapproval.
It’s rather a chastening reminder that the world, the people in it, and the daily cavalcade of events are more mysterious, various and downright strange than my addled mind can adequately comprehend.
Sometimes all you can say, whistling a happy tune or humming a death tempo dirge, is:
Um, um, um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
Let’s kick off with this entry which burst back into my mind recently.
‘All we got to say on this proposition is this: first, you and me is as good as anybody else, and maybe a damn sight better; second, nobody ain’t got no right to take away none of our rights; third, every man has a right to live, to come and go as he pleases, and to have a good time however he likes, so long as he don’t interfere with nobody else’ (!!)
Um, um,um, um, um, um,
‘Normally we see 100 Little Auks a year in St Cuthbert’s beloved Farne Islands. Today on the 89th anniversary of the end of World War 1 we saw 29,000’ (!!)
The Hamza River flows for some 3,700 miles at a depth of 13,000 feet below The Amazon River. (!!)
Um, um,um, um, um, um …
‘The death scene in the film, ‘The Champ’ with Ricky Schroder and Jon Voight was found by a psychology professor from the University of California-Berkeley, to represent an emblem of pure sadness. The clip has since been used in experiments that range from testing the tearful responses of depressed people, elderly people and people with eating disorders to tracing the spending habits of sad people.’ (!!)
Um, um,um, um, um, um …
‘Polar Bears are Irish. Modern polar bears share a distinct DNA sequence, passed down the female line, with their now extinct brown ancestors. The same DNA fingerprint is absent from other species of brown bear alive today. It is thought the link arose from interbreeding between prehistoric polar bears and female brown bears when their paths crossed as the Irish climate cooled.’ (!!)
‘Mary Prince lived in The White House during Jimmy Carter’s presidency as a housekeeper. In addition to his other duties President Carter was her parole officer as she was a convicted murderer. She had previously become Amy Carter’s nanny following assignment to the then Georgia Governor’s mansion.’ (!!)
‘When former World Heavyweight Champion Sonny Liston’s dead body was discovered all that was found with him was an ounce of heroin, a shot of vodka, a gun and a crucifix (the Mafia like to keep things simple).’ (!!)
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
‘Located 113 km away from the city of Malaga and 25 km from Ronda, in the autonomous province of Andalusia, Juzcar has become a hotspot for worldwide travelers, and one of the most recognizable villages in Spain. Once a traditional white village, the picturesque hamlet changed its look in the summer of 2011, becoming the first and only official Smurfs village in the world.’ (!!)
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
‘In 1930 Charlie Heard a taxi driver from Geelong, Australia hesitated only briefly before accepting a fare to take Ada Beal and her two lady companions to Darwin and back – a distance of some 7,000 miles. Charlie drove a 1928 Hudson, Miss Beal had a wooden leg and always wore a fur coat. The fare was in the order of 9,000 Australian Pounds. All parties returned safely to Geelong with stories to tell. Charlie bought a service station and stayed close to home therafter,’ (!!)
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
‘At a solemn service before sunset in a rural Yorkshire churchyard a battered lead-lined coffin was reburied hours after being opened for the first time in 89 years. As prayers were recited, samples of the remains of Sir Mark Sykes, the aristocratic diplomat and adventurer whose grave had been exhumed, were being frozen in liquid nitrogen and transported to a laboratory with the aim of saving millions of lives.
During his life, Sir Tatton Benvenuto Mark Sykes made his mark on the world map. As the British government’s lead negotiator in a secret 1916 deal with France to carve up the Ottoman Empire, he laid the groundwork for the boundaries of much of the present-day Middle East and, according to some critics, its current conflicts.
But it was the manner of the death of this Conservative MP, British Army general, and father of six children, that may yet prove the source of his most significant legacy by providing key answers in how medical science can cope with 21st century lethal flu pandemics.
Early in 1919, Sir Mark became one of the estimated 50 million victims of the so-called Spanish flu and died in Paris.
His remains were sealed in a lead-lined coffin and transported to the Sykes family seat in Yorkshire. He was buried in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church, adjoining the house.
Were it not for the fact that Sir Mark’s body was hermetically sealed by a thick layer of lead, the story of his life would have passed quietly into history.
But the accident of chemistry – the decay of soft tissue encased in lead is dramatically slowed – has presented scientists investigating ways to deal with the inevitable mutation of the H5N1 “bird flu” into a lethal human virus with a unique opportunity to study the behaviour of its predecessor.
There are only five useful samples of the H1N1 virus around the world and none from a well-preserved body in a lead-lined coffin. Sir Mark’s descendants are delighted that his influence may reach a different sphere of human endeavour. His grandson, Christopher Sykes, said: “We were all agreed that it was a very good thing and should go ahead. It is rather fascinating that maybe even in his state as a corpse, he might be helping the world in some way.” (!!)
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
‘A lifeboatman who saved the lives of at least 300 people and was awarded the service’s equivalent of the Victoria Cross retired on Friday after 27 years spent braving the North Sea.
Coxswain Brian Bevan, 55, would be rejected if he applied to join the Royal National Lifeboat Institution today. The ability to swim 100 metres fully clothed is now a prerequisite – and he gave up learning to swim after he was thrown in at the deep end and nearly drowned in a prank on a school swimming trip in the 1950s.
He observed: “You certainly don’t need to swim to man the lifeboat. Your lifejacket keeps you afloat.”
Pinpoint timing and a cool head helped Mr Bevan to earn the RNLI Gold Medal during a mission in a force 10 storm on Valentine’s Day 22 years ago.
He remains the only lifeboatman to receive the bronze, silver and gold medals of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution at a single ceremony.
He has no plans to learn to swim.'(!!)
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
‘When Jean Preston in the 1960s came across two small panels depicting medieval saints in a box of unwanted items up for a quick sale, she thought they they had an enigmatic quality and were, ‘quite nice’.
Miss Preston, from Oxfordshire, was working as a manuscript curator in California. Her father bought them for a couple of hundred pounds to indulge her interest in curious works.
For decades they hung, partly obscured, behind the door of her spare room. It was only after Miss Preston’s death, at the age of 77 that the panels were found to be key works (worth over £1m) by the Renaissance master painter, Fra Angelico, solving the 200 year mystery of their disappearance.’ (!!)
‘For the first time in almost 60 years, Dianne Odell’s family home was silent yesterday. Only a string of well-wishers interrupted the eerie calm that pervaded the house where, for as long as anyone can remember, a noisy electric motor had powered the massive ‘iron lung’ pumping air in and out of her body.
Miss Odell had been in the iron lung for more than 50 years after contracting Polio in her youth. She was believed to be the world’s longest-surviving victim of polio to have spent almost her entire life inside an iron lung, a now virtually obsolete medical device that keeps patients alive by forcing air in and out of their paralysed bodies.
She was cared for by her close family together with a community of friends and admirers, with whom she made eye contact through an angled mirror. Despite the difficulties of Ms Odell’s condition, she managed to get a high-school diploma, take college courses, and even write a children’s book about a “wishing star”‘ called Blinky – all from the confines of the living room of her home.
Miss Odell proved the truth of the observation of the great moral philosopher Victor Frankl; that everything can be taken from you but one thing : the last of human freedoms – to choose your attitude in any set of circumstances, to choose your own way.
Recalling her life Miss Odell said:
I remember walking to a ball game with daddy and I remember being on a train. It seems like I can remember playing out in the mud one day.
But I’ve had a very good life, filled with love and family and faith. You can make life good or you can make it bad. I’ve chosen the good.’ (!!)
Um, um,um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um,
Um, um, um, um, um, um
Um, um, um, um, um, um ..
Sometimes the world is too much to take in. Too much.
In those times I find respite in the gracious words and melodies of Curtis Mayfield and the artless art of Major Lance.
I cue up, ‘Um, um, um, um, um, um’ and dance until my heart is full and my mind is free.
The Immortal Jukebox 