How I Came to be in the Music Industry
A rare but brief synopsis.
With the introduction of the jukebox into our local cafe came the era of rock’ n’ roll; remember them? Those heady youthful days. The cafe was the place for us schoolkids to congregate, watch the schoolgirls crowded around the jukebox listening to Bobby Darin tapping their feet to Cliff Richard and the Shadows or going bonkers over Elvis Presley singing ‘Return to Sender’.
I was physically incapable of moving any part of my body to a rhythm, so I could never ask a girl to dance. Susan’s dad was the island’s policeman (you’ll know all about Susan if you’ve read my writings), which meant that her breasts were so far out of touching distance no one ever thought about them. We all thought about them because they were so perky, but in your life, you didn’t want to think about what her dad would do to you.
Hutch (Benny)was the island’s dork! He wanted to be an actor but made the mistake of telling his dad. Hutch became a trawlerman at age fifteen. I heard some years later that Hutch had made it to London, working in a local theater. A year later, he was on the dole. I mention this here because Hutch never gave up on his dream.
Dad played the mandolin. Dad said he learned because he had traced his ancestry back to that of Scandinavian gipsies, but Mum said he learned to impress the girls. But the thing I most remember is when Dad played the accordion; it was a popular night at the inn in the town. Mum told me Dad liked to play at the inn because, she said, there were shadows in the town where lonely people lived. Dad has always hated the idea of loneliness. The locals put money at the bar every week that Dad played, and he gave the money to the local shelter in Oban.
But when Dad played, the whole place was filled and bouncing. Honestly, it was spectacular! The women danced, still wearing their kitchen pinafores, while their husbands stamped their feet on the old wooden floor and thumped fists on tables. Dad always said even husky voices need to sing!
How is it possible on a blank page to describe a joy like you have never heard; music flew into the rafters, escaped out of windows, crept under doors and flooded into the street? It was a community at its best.
As I got older, I realized these people knew no other measure of success than to enjoy themselves whenever possible. Many men working on Dad’s boats needed help to write down a proper sentence. Don’t misunderstand me; I love these men after a fashion only God will truly understand. They are genuine saints in my life. Work was work, and fun was community.
As for Susan, well, I left the island before telling her what she meant to my life. The one that got away? No, she was never fascinated by me, though I tried everything. When I was fourteen, I bought a battered leather jacket because I heard she had a thing for bikers. It wasn’t true, and my only touch of her skin was when she tumbled from a stool in the cafe, and I reached for her hand. I credit Susan for many lyrics that came to my mind in later years.
I went to live in Paris, met Leonard, and learned how beautiful the world can be in the right company.
Who knows what the true sadness is within a song’s lyrics? Or what kind of torment is felt in the writing of them? I crumpled a hundred pieces of paper with lyrics written to Susan, only to toss them into the gutter and walk home wondering how I could achieve anything and never get hurt again. It was to prove very difficult.
I wrote lyrics throughout my career, but even before that career was embarked upon, I had some success meeting people who wanted the same things I did or thought I did.
The story of how I met (Long) John Baldry is here. A giant of a man, who read my lyrics, sitting over a ploughman’s lunch in the ‘Woodman Inn’ outside London. I had no music written down.
But this was all before Jenny, before the World Cup final, and before the bow of the Titanic towered onto our motion picture screens. John introduced me to Reggie, better known today and for a long time as Elton. Lonnie Donegan was another.
Had it not been for the Airforce, pleasing my hero Dad, I would doubtless be a long-forgotten junkie. Wait, actually, this part is true.
Things took off after I left the Air Force and joined Chris Wright at Chrysalis Records. I met almost every big star in the business and every wannabe who came through the doors. I always loved them best.
I remember some bozo walked in the door dressed as a clown, the whole nine yards, white face, big feet, baggy pants and brought a song. Chris kicked him out. I immediately thought of Hutch. Someone didn’t give him a chance.
I gave the clown a chance.
I talked about Susan and how I often resorted to those feelings of despair when the girl you believe you love, has no feelings for you. Leo lost the clown outfit pretty damn quick, but it had served its purpose. I had written some lyrics that went way back and we worked with them, becoming one of his many hit singles.
I talked about Susan and how I often resorted to those feelings of despair when the girl you believe you love has no feelings for you. Leo lost the clown outfit pretty damn quick, but it had served its purpose. I had written some lyrics that went way back, and we worked with them, becoming one of his many hit singles.
Finally, Chrysalis as a company had their first UK hit single. I’ve been asked many times over the last twenty years, why hide your name from projects or recordings you were involved with?
Without fear of making other influences unimportant, I can say that it had everything to do with how I was raised — what my parents had and what they gave me. I was a success the moment I left the island. I was raised that way.
All the usual trapping meant nothing to them and nothing to me. I could buy a home, drive a car, raise my children, and never know financial difficulty. But when dark clouds loom, success will not brighten those days. Would it be different if my name were publicly acknowledged — illuminating anything? Of course not. No amount of money melts pain.
Lost, in the end. That’s what brought me into the music industry. It wasn’t design, a dream, or a career I was always interested in. Has it made me the man I am today? Not at all.
Dad, when at home, was a human equivalent of the Mary Celeste. Everything about his life was perfectly in its place, except his mind. He drifted aimlessly through the house without direction, occasionally finding himself in the kitchen and prompting Mum to ask: “Darling, are you lost?”
Dad would look around momentarily, then respond: “Aye, lass, I think I be.”
He would turn astern and leave the way he entered.
I entered the Music Industry the way Dad found his way into the kitchen.
I was lost.
More from Harry:
Adrienne Beaumont, The Sturg, Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles, Trisha Faye, Karen Schwartz, Nancy Oglesby, Katie Michaelson, Bernie Pullen, Michelle Jimerson Morris, Amy, Julia A. Keirns, Pamela Oglesby, Tina, Pat Romito LaPointe, Brandon Ellrich, Misty Rae, Karen Hoffman, Susie Winfield, Vincent Pisano, Marlene Samuels, Ray Day, Randy Pulley, Michael Rhodes, Lu Skerdoo, Pluto Wolnosci 🟣, Paula Shablo, Bruce Coulter, Ellen Baker, Kelley Murphy, Leigh-Anne Dennison, Patricia Timmermans, Keeley Schroder, Jan Sebastian 🖐👩🦰, James Michael Wilkinson, Whye Waite, John Hansen, Trudy Van Buskirk, Robert Bush | Dixie Dodd
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Thanks for reading.
