I am scrolling down the myriad programme options on my TV menu when I see a documentary called, ‘Pipers of The Trenches’ and immediately press the record button as it unites my interests in History and Music.
Resolving to watch the programme later I punch the play button on the CD in the car (selected by my son) and at once emerges Mark Knopfler’s wonderful family tribute and lament, ‘Piper To The End’.
What else could I write about this week!
A heartfelt tribute to Mark Knopfler’s uncle Freddie, a Piper for the 1st Battalion Tyneside Scottish who died at the age of just 20 in May 1940.
A song and a performance imbued with deep affection and love.
The musical arrangement has a powerful and tender sway suggesting fathomless depths of feeling at such tragic loss.
The interplay between Mark Knopfler’s Guitar and John McCusker’s Violin has a Band of Brothers closeness that sets salt tears swelling.
Knopfler’s characteristically laconic delivery lets the music and the traditional and mythic tone of the lyric express the universal pathos of the story.
… if there are no pipes in heaven
I’ll be going down below
If friends in time be severed
Someday we will meet again
I’ll return to leave you never
Be a piper to the end
Pipers feature prominently in the lore and legend of the British Army – most especially the Scottish Regiments.
Tales of the electric effect of the Pipes on troops about to go into battle abound.
On the heights of Dargai in India and on the dusty plains of the Peninsular War wounded Pipers played until their breath fell silent.
In the slaughter house fields of the First World War imagine the raw courage of an unarmed Piper marching towards the enemy trenches amid withering machine gun fire and the relentless barrage of artillery shells.
In virtually every major battle Pipers played and Pipers were slain.
We watched the fires together
Shared our quarters for a while
Walked the dusty roads together
Came so many miles
*
This has been a day to die on
Now the day is almost done
Here the pipes will lay beside me
Silent with the battle drum.
*
The bravery and sacrifice of Pipers was then reflected in the Piping tradition through compositions such as ‘Battle of the Somme’ by Willie Lawrie.
*
*
The British Army lost a scarcely credible 20,000 men on the first day of The Battle of The Somme.
The Pipers who played that day need no one to tell them about Hell.
Still I am convinced that there will be company upon company of Pipers in Heaven.
As long as there are storytellers and songwriters like Mark Knopfler their heroism and sacrifice will never be forgotten and the skirl of The Pipes will always echo on.
Echo on.
Some things can never be severed.
If friends in time be severed
Someday here we will meet again
I’ll return to leave you never
Be a piper to the end
It wasn’t the Kings, with their glittering gifts, who were the first witnesses.
*
No.
*
It was the Shepherds.
*
Outcasts of the time.
*
Who yet had eyes to see and revere a Miracle before them.
*
Looking for the Spirit of Christmas?
*
I wouldn’t go looking in the shopping cathedrals.
*
You might be better off if you realise there might be no truer Christmas gift than a toothpick, a Luckie and a coffee refill.
*
Ragpickers have Dreams.
*
Hop a freight with them and sing out if you see the flashlight.
*
Music in the Winter sure carries at Night.
Sure carries at Night.
Especially when Mark Knopfler plays guitar.
Or when Keb Mo lays down a you just can’t deny it or resist it groove.
His tale here will be only too familiar to many.
Christmas can be a time for reflection and contemplation of our individual and collective moral landscapes.
The writer and Monk Thomas Merton had a gift for illuminating those landscapes.
Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for him at all, Christ comes uninvited.
But because he cannot be at home in it, because he is out of place in it, and yet he must be in it, his place is with those others for whom there is no room.
His place is with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied the status of persons, tortured, exterminated.
With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in this world.
He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst.”
Coaches and Gurus and Snake Oil salesmen will portentously promise to reveal the secret to you.
Better save your money and your time and learn the things that can be taught – vocal exercises, relaxation, the whole assembly of skills that adds up to Technique.
But Presence?
No way.
You’ve either got it or you haven’t.
The gods or muses dispose as they will.
Hard to define but easy to recognise.
Greta Garbo.
Marlon Brando.
Rudolph Nureyev.
Maria Callas.
Miles Davis.
Muhammad Ali.
Van Morrison.
Intensity.
Impact.
Cultural, emotional and spiritual impact.
You’ll recognise it when you confront it.
Mark Knopfler is a gifted songwriter and as a guitar player has undoubted Presence.
He is also canny enough to know that some songs require an extra ingredient that he does not possess.
A voice with Presence.
So, for his Song, ‘The Last Laugh’ he called up Van Morrison.
There must have been a moment in the studio as they listened back when Mark exhaled and smiled deeply as the sound of Van’s voice at the beginning of the second verse lifted the work to a wholly new level.
Presence.
Emotional and Spiritual impact.
Van Morrison.
Sing it Van!
Games you thought you’d learned
You neither lost nor won
Dreams have crashed and burned
But you’re still going on
Out on the highway with the road gang working
Up on the mountain with the cold wind blowing
Out on the highway with the road gang working
But the last laugh, baby is yours
And don’t you love the sound
Of the last laugh going down
Very few singers merit the Bold and the Italics.
Van Morrison always has and always will.
Don’t you love the Sound!
Presence.
Cultural, Emotional and Spiritual Impact.
Demonstrated time after time in studios and on stages from Belfast to Buffalo.
Hey Girl! Baby Blue. Brown Eyed Girl. Sweet Thing. Moondance..
Linden Arden.
Listen to The Lion.
The Healing has begun.
No Guru. No Method. No Teacher.
Just Van and that Voice.
It ain’t why, why, why, it just IS.
A voice capable of transcendence as only the rarest voices are.
A voice that reaches up to the Moon.
Don’t you love the Sound!
Van is 74 this week.
So, Happy Birthday Van!
A heartfelt thanks for all the Songs and all the Singing.
May your Song always be Sung.
if this is your visit to The Immortal Jukebox you are very welcome!
Sign up for email alerts or follow me on Twitter @thomhickey55 and you’ll never miss a post!
There are more Posts about Van than any other artist here on The Jukebox so, in case you missed one or would like to be reminded of an old favourite here’s the Van Compendium for your delectation and delight!
Brown Eyed Girl’.
An introduction telling the tale of my headlong plunge into obsession following my first hearing of Van’s best known song.
A meditation on Time featuring 2 astounding versions of John Lee Hooker’s tender Blues Ballad. One a reaching for the stars take of a teenager the second the work of a fully realised master musician.
Songs that speak truthfully to the ebbing and flowing tides of our lives take on a life of their own cutting distinctive channels in our hearts.
Such songs as Bob Dylan says ‘get up and walk’ away from their composers and become community treasures.
Treasures cherished by what I still think of as the ‘record buying public’ and perhaps even more so by fellow songwriters who recognise a classic song with such lyrical and melodic grace that it seems to demand new interpretations.
The song taking pride of place on The Immmortal Jukebox today is an absolute Peach – ‘Tennessee Blues’ written and first performed by the late, great, Bobby Charles.
I can imagine brows being furrowed at the name – Bobby Charles?
Now, you may not be a fully paid up, got the T Shirt and the Box Set, fan like me but believe me you know and can croon along to several Bobby Charles songs.
How about, ‘See You Later Alligator’ or ‘Walking To New Orleans’ not to mention ‘Before I Grow Too Old’ or ‘I Don’t Know Why I Love You, But I Do’ for starters.
Bill Haley, Fats Domino and Frogman Henry had the Chart hits but they all came from the pen and piano of Abbeville La native Robert Charles Guidry – Bobby Charles.
Bobby’s own versions of his songs are uniformally lovely with, ‘Tennessee Blues’ from his glowing 1972 album produced by The Band’s Rick Danko winning the garland for the most lovely of all.
From the ‘Trust us, we’ll take our own sweet time with this one’ opening bars you just know Tennessee Blues is gonna be a Keeper!
There’s a free flowing lazy certainty to the way the song proceeds.
Everything feels natural, unhurried, ripe and right.
Listening you feel like you’re gently rocking to and fro, deliciously half asleep, in a summer hammock.
By now, having lived with this song for decades, as soon as the song starts I can feel the tears welling up and my Boot Heels get ready to go wandering once again round the dance floor with my Darling.
And as we twirl, lost in the Music, we find a place where we don’t have to worry.
A place where we feel loose.
A place alive with the sound of running water and the trills of birds in the trees.
A place to forget all those regrets.
A place where we can settle and stay.
A place to be at peace.
To be at peace.
Oh, a place where you lose all those blues.
All those Blues.
Those Tennessee Blues.
Here, Bobby Charles has written and sung a Song that enchants.
A Song that’s balm for the bruised heart, the weary mind and the thirsty soul.
I’m not 100% certain of the musician credits but that’s surely Amos Garrett (of Midnight At The Oasis fame) playing the tender guitar licks and The Band’s instrumental maestro Garth Hudson playing the heartbreaking Accordion.
N. D. Smart on Drums and Jim Colegrove on Bass.
Violin courtesy of Harry Lookofsky (the Father of ‘Walk Away Renee’ writer Michael Brown.
The sense of ancient sway they create together is truly magical.
A magic that was recognised by one of the most good hearted of all musicians San Antonio’s own favourite Son – Doug Sahm.
Doug cuts deep, imbuing Tennessee Blues with tender Texas Soul.
Doug’s vocal takes us up to the Mountain Tops and down to the lapping lake side waters where we might bathe and be born again.
Born again.
Across the wide Atlantic Ocean Mark Knopfler, taking time out from his leadership responsibilities with Dire Straits, found peace and nourishment returning to the Americana sounds that had first inspired him to take up the Guitar and search out the chords for the songs he would write himself.
His companions, collectively The Notting Hillbillies, were Steve Phillips and Brendan Crocker.
In their hands Tennessee Blues takes on the character of aching night prayer – a compline service for lost saloon souls.
We are all searching for that place.
That place of shaded valleys and cool reviving streams.
That place where our regrets and worries dissolve in the warm breeze.
That place of peace.
Bobby Charles’ Tennessee Blues takes us there and gives us the strength to carry that peace within us as we travel on.
Notes :
Tennessee Blues can be found on the Rhino Encore CD ‘Bobby Charles’ – unreservedly recommended!
I also love:
The Bear Family compilation, ‘See You Later Alligator’
‘All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking’ (Friedrich Nietzsche)
‘Walking is man’s best medicine’ (Hippocrates)
‘Well I know you heard of the old mambo
and I know you heard of the old Congo
but when you walk you’re starting to get close
and don’t step on your partners toes!
You just Walk, yea you Walk! .. Walk! Walk!’ (Jimmy McCracklin)
I’ve written previously about my Dad and me watching our favourite TV Shows on our tiny Black and White picture television with the images sometimes looking like they were beamed in from a distant planet.
A show that always held us breathless was, ‘The Fugitive’.
Would on the run Richard Kimble ever clear his name?
Was there really a ‘One armed man’?
Would Inspector Gerard ever forgo his relentless pursuit of Richard Kimble?
Pondering these questions drinking cups of strong tea and meditatively chewing on Fry’s Chocolate Cream Bars we marvelled at Kimble’s coolness under pressure.
Almost discovered, the prison gates metaphorically swinging open to lead him to the electric chair, he remained calm.
He did not Run! Running gets you noticed. Running gets you caught.
No, he did not run. He simply walked smartly away.
Walked smartly away readying himself for the next town where, still free, he might find a clue to the whereabouts of the one armed man.
Perhaps he had been listening to the sage advice of The Ventures.
Perhaps, breath and heart rate under control, he paced himself by playing and replaying in his head their immortal 1960 instrumental smash, ‘Walk, Don’t Run’.
That’s Bob Bogle on lead guitar, Nokie Edward on bass, Don Wilson on rhythm guitar and Skip Moore on drums (the latter made a poor decision when he said no to waiting for royalties opting instead for the immediate gratification of $25 cash!).
The tune was the 1954 invention of Jazz master guitarist Johnny Smith though The Ventures picked it up from Country maestro Chet Atkins 1957 take.
The Ventures were out of Tacoma and something in the Washington air gave them a clean, pure sound that cut deep into the imaginations of radio and Jukebox listeners all over the world.
The sound cut especially deep with neophyte guitarists like John Fogerty, Joe Walsh, Stephen Stills and Jeff Baxter – who vowed to stay locked in their bedrooms til they had that tune good and down!
It sure didn’t do any harm to the sales of Fender Jazzmasters, Stratocasters or Precision Bass Guitars either!
The precision and punch of The Ventures sound and their eagerness to adopt technology and effects in service of their sound made for addictive listening.
So, The Ventures, adding and losing members – though always with Don Wilson at the helm – continue to play and record to this very day.
And, across the vast expanse of The Pacific Ocean, they are big, no, they were and are massive, in Japan where it seems every would be Guitarist starts out listening to their forebears treasured Ventures records!
Let’s move from walking smartly to more of a lazy stroll through the good offices of Helena, Arkansas bluesman, pianist and very fine songwriter Jimmy McCracklin.
Jimmy was a stalwart of the West Coast Blues scene from the 1940s hooking up with ace saxman and arranger Maxwell Davis and on point guitarists like Lafayette Thomas.
The Walk, from 1958, was his only national hit benefitting from the vogue for songs celebrating particular dance crazes and its promotion on Dick Clare’s American Bsndstand TV Show.
Who could resist, ‘The Walk’!
Well, well, well. Yea! You just walk indeed.
Even the denizens of the two left feet club felt that, at last, here was a dance that they could assay with some confidence!
Next up, someone with a very distinctive stride indeed.
Neil Young.
Now, it seems to me that Neil has spent his whole glorious, one moment the broad Highway, one moment the Ditch, career determined to walk smartly away from any expectation of what he might do next.
He just sets off walking and sends a report back when he gets to where he ends up.!
Oh, and he makes sure he travels light.
All he really needs for the road is an open heart and, ‘Old Black’ his Gibson Les Paul.
Neil knows, knows in his very bones that the one thing that singles out true artists is that they walk their own path.
Good luck to the others with the path they have chosen but Neil is going to go his own sweet way however stony and steep the path ahead may be.
Walk On! Walk On! Walk On!
Walk On is from Neil’s utterly magnificent LP, ‘On Tne Beach’ which has the psycho dramatic grip of a fevered dream.
Oh yes, some get stoned and some sure get strange. Some get very strange.
But, whoever you are, wherever you are, often when you least expect it, you will find, one dewy dawn or one descending dusk, that sooner or later, sooner or later, it really all does get real.
And then, then, you can choose to lie down and wait for the wolves to arrive or you can summon up your courage, look to the horizon and Walk On!
Walk On!
As you hit your stride you can have no more fitting companion than ornery ol Neil.
Walk On!
Hang on a minute.
Here comes Johnny .. he got the action, he got the motion, yeah the boy can play. Oh yeah, he do the song about the knife. He do. He do.
Mark Knopler, tells stories, some profound, some wonderfully ephemeral, through his trusty Stratocaster (though below it’s a Telecaster storm).
I like it most of all when he cranks it up and recalls the sounds of Rock ‘n’ Roll that inspired a young man to take up the Guitar.
Now, Boy Howdy, ain’t that fun. Ain’t that fun!
Oh, yeah, the Boy can play. Really play.
Oldies, goldies.
Be-Bop-A-Lula, What I Say.
Power and glory.
Hand me down my Walkin’ Shoes.
My Walkin’ Shoes.
You want to live?
Put on your Walking Shoes. Put on your Walkin’ Shoes.
Do the Walk of Life.
Do the Walk of Life.
As I set out, each morning to circumnavigate our local lake, I carry within me all those songs and, always, the words of Thomas Traherne:
‘To walk is by a thought to go,
To move in spirit to and fro,
To mind the good we see,
To taste the sweet,
Observing all the things we meet,
How choice and rich they be’.
Yes, if you would save your life – Walk!
Don’t miss the good and the sweet.
Walk, walk, every day and observe how choice and rich life can be.
Oh, and how far is walking distance?
As far as your mind can conceive and your will alllow.
Nowhere is beyond walking distance if you make the time.
The Immortal Jukebox 