Nick Harper at Barton Gig Review

Nick Harper – The Ropery Barton 17.10.2025 Pt 1

I’ve just come back from a journey on a time machine courtesy of the magician Nick Harper! What a trip!

I found myself both mesmerised by Nick’s incredibly hot nimble finger-work on those cold steel frets along with the resurfacing of long buried memories.

It all centred on 58 Fordwych Road but it took me on a voyage into inner space as various memories floated through – recalled recollections of times at Fordwych Road, evenings at Les Cousins, gigs with the luminaries of the day. The reminiscences of gigs, meetings and times were dredged up from the depths leaving me drenched with nostalgia.

Nick’s present tour is extraordinary as he regaled us with anecdotes and tales accompanied by illustrative songs from the luminaries that visited with his father back in the sixties – musical geniuses one and all. Roy and Mocy were part of that extraordinary scene, their flat a centre for all the best of the sixties contemporary singer songwriters to gather, compete, challenge and share. What a time! What a scene! What talent!

Nick was born into that milieu and soaked it in by osmosis. If anybody can profess to be the legitimate successor of those extraordinary musicians it’s Nick. He epitomises the best of everything they stood for in both his musicianship and song writing. He’s adrift, in a scene of his own that harks right back to those halcyon days of the sixties.

I find it hard to believe that my friendship with Nick actually spans fifty seven years. As I watched him play and listened to his stories it took me straight back. The first time I met Nick was in the Summer of 1968. Roy had invited me round to Fordwych Road. I remember, as a nervous eighteen-year-old, walking into that flat. I paused. Roy and Mocy were on the sofa. Nick, who was a toddler, chortled, ran across the room as I bent down to greet him, flung his arms around my neck and planted a big slobbery kiss on my lips. It kinda broke the ice!

But back to the set. This was no ordinary gig. This was Nick’s homage to the greats who had gone before.

Nick started his set with the ancestor of the whole contemporary folk scene – the crazy Davey Graham -the guy who invented DADGAD tuning and incorporated Middle Easter music into English Folk. Roy had regaled me with numerous tales of their mad exploits in London. At one time he and Roy were going to perform as a duo. That would have been a different direction and outcome for both of them.

Back in the 60s I saw Davey play in Cousins. His fingers were a blur. He was fiery. Sadly I last saw him in the 70s at a lacklustre gig in a large bare hall where he ran through his repertoire like a highly skilled automaton. Nick took me back to the 60s Davey. The eloquent folk number She Moves through the Fair  was followed by the spectacular Angie whose stormy picked runs and spicy chords summoned up all the exotic feel of a Moroccan Casbah. I’ve seen and heard many live versions of this classic, seminal number and Nick’s masterful rendering was as good as you get.

I had my first injection of Roy Harper in Les Cousins in 67, wedged between Bert and John. Both of whom were regular at Fordwych, rivals and friends, who shared, stole and learnt from each other. They all contributed to each other’s early albums.

Nick chose a Bert Jansch  number, Black Water Side, from his third album Jack Orion – a beautiful gem. Took me back to watching Bert’s fabulous playing. He could pick the most beautiful melodies and also attack those steel strings with ferocity.

For the John Renbourn he once again spurned the first two albums and went for The Earle Of Salisbury from Sir John Alot Of Merrie Englandes Musyk Thyng & Ye Grene Knyghte a beautiful melodic number reminiscent of merry olde England that Nick delivered with great tenderness and skill.

For Paul Simon we received an ancient version of Parsley Sage Rosemary and Thyme which had more than a nod to Martin Carthy.

He followed that with an emotional rendition of a song his father had written for his mother Mocy. Forever! It’s been many a year since I heard Roy deliver it. He’d once sung it for Liz and I in a gig in Kingston. Took me right back. Nick’s version was immaculate. The melody sparkled as his voice flowed and cracked with feeling. He was living it.

Next we were treated to a dose of the tousle-haired troubadour with the dazzling fingers and plaintive voice that was John Martyn. Another man whose feet we had sat at and been moved by. Nick chose John’s signature tune ‘May You Never’ to beguile us. A song of love, friendship and comradeship possibly about his great friendship with Danny Thompson or Andy Matheou. John was another of the supremely talented who life was wrecked by drink.

Rather incongruously we had a dose of Marc Bolan and strangely that worked too. He’d chosen a T Rex track which I thought was a little out there. I thought he might have gone for a Tyrannosaurus track like ‘Deborah’ or ‘Salamander Palaganda’ which I remember Marc and Steve Took performing at those seminal outdoor festivals back in the day.

I think it was the Bowie which came next. Nick recounted the story of how Bowie, before he was famous, had come round to meet Roy in Fordwych Road. We then met ‘The Man Who Sold the World’.

The fabulous Jackson C Frank came next – another pioneer who had a huge impact on Roy and a tragic figure of epic proportions. I bought that one and only album back in 1965. A friend of mine, Bob Ede, who I haven’t seen since 1966, introduced me to it and it’s remained a favourite all these years. His succulent voice and lingering melodies wormed their way into my brain and have lodged forever.

Jackson was extremely badly burnt in a High School fire that killed his girlfriend Marlene along with fourteen other classmates. He never got over it. When he received his settlement he boarded the Queen Mary, ostensibly to purchase classic cars, but really an attempt to outstrip the trauma that haunted him. On board he wrote the songs that were to grace that fabulous album. Their melodies and honey-coated vocals still waft around my head. ‘The Blues Run The Game’ captured the mental anguish of the PTS he was suffering from. They ran his game.

Jackson set up in Les Cousins and befriended Roy. They spent many a night talking, talking, talking. I can hear Jackson’s influence on Roy’s first two albums on the delicious melodies of numbers like ‘Don’t You Think We’re Forever’ and in the philosophy on ‘Come Out Fighting Ghenghis Smith’ that emanated from their laughter laden stoned ramblings.

Unfortunately, Jackson found he could not outrun the horrors in his head. I last saw him in 1969 in a room in a pub on Ilford High Street. My mate Pete and I sat at the front table and were sucked in to the splendour. Afterwards we chatted. He was meant to be joining Roy at his watershed St Pancras Town Hall gig the next week but failed to show. His life fell apart. The mental illness sucked the life out of a beautiful man and he died destitute having been living from dustbins in New York. Tragic. If only that first album had led to more of the same. I still cherish it.

We ended the tributes with that most wonderful track by Sandy Denny – her of the most luscious voice in popular music. Nick took me straight back to those early days with Fairport Convention. Richard Thompsons guitar and Sandy’s voice as English as warm summer rain. Sandy was another tragic figure whose life was ruined by alcohol. At just 31 she died after a fall down the stairs. But she left us a legacy of memories and songs. ‘Where Does The Time Go?’ Where indeed. Has it really been nearly sixty years?

With the aid of Nick’s time machine I was back in the room with all those magical times and talented people.

He finished up with a couple of his own masterpieces (he reminded us that he was there too in 58 Fordwych Road)– ‘The Man of a Thousand Days’ – a song that aptly described that autobiographical journey being brought up in Wiltshire by his mother and Paul. ‘The Verse Time Forgot’ was about his mother Mocy and once again was soaked in the heartfelt emotions of loss.

This wasn’t entertainment so much as sharing. Nick had treated us to a slab of his life and its intersections with our own worlds. Amazingly he was able to deliver the best of all those incredible musicians, to capture their essence, but not as a tribute act. No. So much more than that. The songs were not note for note copies but Nick inspired interpretations that captured their essence and imbued them with his own experience and spirit.

He ended with another Roy track – the powerful ‘Highway Blues’ – once again taking the Roy Harper masterpiece and twisting it with Nick’s genius. A fine way to end.

So – if you take a look down your highway and see Nick appearing anywhere near seize the opportunity to see and hear a legend. Whether or not you manage that life changing experience you can at least sample the delights of this rare Harpic tour by purchasing the album. It’s brilliant. You can buy the complete concert version with all the chat or have just the songs (with 2 bonus tracks) – why not buy both and help put Nick at the top of the charts where he belongs! They complement each other. Indispensible!

Thanks Nick for a slice of your life and the transportation back to better days!!

PS – so good to meet up with Jacqui and a number of old friends from the past!! Great to see you all!