James Varda – I first met James Varda back in 1987. Roy had taken him on tour with him. That’s a rarity. Roy hardly ever did that. He tended not to use support. This was an exception – and what an exception.
At a number of Harper gigs I had the privilege to see James perform and sit and chat to him before and after his set.
What a contrast. On stage I saw a fiery performer who was full of angst delivering a blistering set of poetic songs that I can only describe as Folk Punk. He had that same vibe as early Harper and early Dylan. Off stage he was quiet, softly spoken and unassuming – very friendly and pleasant.
In 1988 he brought out the most fabulous album – Hunger – on the Awareness label that Roy was on (run by the great Andy Ware). I loved it – it captured that energy and unique English style.
I spoke with Roy about this nascent force and he was very enthusiastic. James was destined for great heights.
Then it went pear-shaped. James toured all the small clubs, did a lot of radio and plugged Hunger like mad. For some reason it failed to take off.
James started recording his follow-up but it wasn’t all smooth running. He had some great new songs but Andy was struggling with the label and James was becoming discouraged with his lack of recognition. The label went bust and Andy offered James the tapes they had recorded. A disillusioned James told him to bin them and walked away. That was it. He’d had enough.
Fifteen years flashed by and James re-emerged, this time on the Small Things Record label. This reincarnation was not as fiery; he’d settled into a pastoral poetic style that I found very captivating. Different but every bit as good. First In The Valley in 2003 and then, ten years later, in 2013 the River and the Stars, were delightful. I was so pleased to have James back with his beautiful craftsmanship (and Nick Harper helping out with some guitar!).
I didn’t have to wait too long for the next album – Chance and Time came out a year later and I eagerly purchased it. That was a shock. Death is not an easy subject to deal with and this album seemed to be telling the story of a terminal illness. Could that be true? I put up a review on my blog and asked the question – was James just using this as a muse for his songs or was it real? Was James dying? James contacted me and told me that yes, sadly, it was true. He had terminal cancer.
When faced with a terminal diagnosis people respond in many different ways. James’s response (after the shock) was to pour it into his songs. The album was stark – the consultation – the progress of the disease and prognosis – but above all a celebration of life and love. The album was an epitaph of joy and wonder in such beautiful poetry and music.
Roy had discovered, promoted and nurtured this incredible talent. The shame is that he had so many lost years and should have been so big. But the good side is that he left us with four fabulous albums and a lot of great memories of memorable gigs.
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!
Roy Harper Review 27.9.2025 – Bridgewater Hall Manchester
It was with some trepidation that Henry and I headed off from Driffield to Manchester in bright Yorkshire sunshine.
He was now 84, was his voice going to hold up?
Could those fingers still pick that guitar?
At the best of times he stumbled over words, would he still be able to remember all those complex poetic lyrics?
Would that sharp wit and spontaneous insightful comments leap off his tongue?
In short, was he still up to the job?
Questions stalked my thoughts like spies.
On the way we played some vintage Harper. I chose Come Out Fighting Ghenghis Smith because it harked back to the times when I first started going to his gigs fifty-eight years ago! We topped it off with Burn The World which seemed to epitomise the present state of the world.
As we approached Manchester it started to rain.
Inside the magnificent Bridgewater Hall, with its 2,341 capacity, I couldn’t help but marvel at how far the lad has come. Les Cousins had a capacity of 200 when rammed!
I looked around at the remnants of the sixties underground (some with eager kids in tow). We come in all shades of bright colour, lengths or absence of hair and assorted sizes – some with sticks, crutches and wheelchairs. It was great to meet up with so many old friends! Hanging on to a fading philosophy? The refugees gather to shelter from the storm. We’re older and wiser, perhaps a shade less idealistic, more realistic! I sat on our plush padded seat and thought back to the hard wooden seats of yesteryear.
Could Roy recreate the vibe?
The lights dimmed and the ageing raver stepped out from the wings. A roar went up? ‘So what’s all this?’ quipped Roy. Roy was back. He made his way to his seat riding on the crest of great affection. Fittingly he informed us that he was heading back to 1969 when he was twenty-eight and dedicated his first song to Lonnie Donnegan, the skiffle King who inspired his first venture into showbiz with his brothers asThe Brothers. How Does It Feel. Well it felt great. The voice, the guitar and the asides, all spot on. All questions answered. It was real!
Nick came out on stage to another rapturous reception. Roy told us how he’d written the next number – Another Day – in a caravan at the Cambridge Folk Festival before having a swipe at US Senators and informing us that the world’s an ass (as if we didn’t know). Immediately Nick and Roy gelled into a glorious, intuitive blend. It’s genetic!
With a kick at Ted Cruz and the barbed quip – ‘Who are these people?’ – we were back in the familiar Harperian social commentary with Hors d’Oeuvres. Took me straight back to the early seventies where Roy would direct the number at the music press drinking at the bar. The two melded guitar runs sure made me think! This was just the starter. The main meal was still to come.
We stayed back in 1968 as Roy recounted his first crossing of the Atlantic and the fabled A and B chords. The haunting 24 Hours of Sunset gave his powerful, controlled vocal full sway. As good as ever.
Roy was enjoying himself. ‘I’m 84,’ he gleefully reminded us, as much astounded by it as we were, ‘It’s amazing!’
The stage was set for an abbreviated epic as Roy told us about an interview in St Antonio, Texas where he first came in contact with the insane US gun culture. The early MAGA cult did not take kindly to I Hate The Whiteman. One of the white men, who he suggested could not be considered human, threatened to come and ‘put you out of your misery’. Seemed that the bare-foot dream of life was not free to laugh and cry its fill! We loved it though.
Roy’s 70’s dream of living together with all of his friends got off to a hesitant start but gained in momentum as it progressed – the delicate melodic Commune providing a great vehicle for duelling guitars.
Roy reiterated his detestation of social sanctioned murder asking ‘Do we need to be savages? Are we savages?’ But the power chords of Hangman suffered from tuning problems with a little wobbly stumbles. None-the-less Roy’s chords and strums provided a sound base for Nick’s lyrical notes and chords to dance across.
The interval seemed to settle him back down.
The warmth resumed as Roy entered from the wings and was made to feel at home with an eruption of joy, the huge hall once again becoming an intimate setting with all the same inane heckling.
The intro for this traditional song didn’t mention Bob Dylan or Paul Simon by name but, for the first time that I’ve heard, sanctioned plagiarism and admitted that ‘borrowing and thieving’ was a valid means for providing inspiration and songs ‘travelled’. His still nimble fingers treated us to a perfect version of North Country.
Nick rejoined him for a brilliant Hallucinating Light which he dedicated to Mocy, Nick’s mum, reflecting poignantly that ‘she was a good girl’. I delighted in a typical Harper moment as he stopped partway in to explain the lyrics. The poetry always meant so much, enough to pause and dissect. We were moved by that familiar laugh as he explained that he was referring to his eyes struggling across a room full of people to fix on the goggle box – where ‘the sick majority infest the myths of doom’. Those guitars intermeshed, the voice soared as the years dropped away.
A new song ‘Man in a Glass Cage?’ had Roy explaining his understanding of Pater Noster. As a lad his father would take him fishing off the North pier at Blackpool. They used a heavy baited five hooks that ‘would take your ear off’ if not cast right. It was called the paternoster
East of The Sun was an absolute triumph. He explained that he had written it for his first girlfriend, Gillian, who was present that evening. He’d lived next door to her when he was 6 and recalled teasing her by not giving her ball back. A most beautiful, heartfelt rendition with Nick beautifully picking out the notes for the first verse in a most poignant manner followed by Roy’s vocals caressing the memories.
When An Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease elicited the story of his grandfather playing for Didsbury and asking his mother if he should pursue it as a career with her replying ‘Nay lad, there’s no money in it’. Once again the two guitars gelled into sublime lyrical phrasing for an immaculate rendition.
Even though we had been treated to some brilliant stuff The Same Old Rock surpassed everything. Roy explained some of the lyrics – the pope always straggling a hundred years behind where society is – the lock being religion. Then they launched into the best version of the song I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen it duetted with Jimmy Page and Any Roberts but never better than this. The power and intermeshing of the two guitars was monumental, the poetic lyrics majestic, the vocal soared in what was a consummate performance. He still has that high register! Those guitars thundered, explosive, incendiary. They burnt the hall down in a feast of synergy.
They made their exit but the crowd went mad. There was no way to escape an encore. A humbled Roy came back to provide us with a new song we’d heard those six years ago. I Loved My Life. He claims to be a simple human and tells us that life is but a moment. Time is short but that he has loved his time here. It was appropriate.
We loved the time he’d spent with us. A chance to once again sample the delights of a legend.
The sophisticated beggar left us with the words: ‘Time is against me – but I hope to be back again.’
We hope so too! What a concert! A sharing. A few stumbles but we forgive them all – once again we had shared a magic evening.
As we drove back through the torrential rain all our questions had been answered!
Thank you Roy (and Nick). A privilege and a treat. ‘Aye Lad, I always knew you had it in you.’
Having ordered through Amazon and still in the process of enjoying Opher Goodwin’s paperback book detailing Roy Harper’s most illustrious recording career, i have to declare that this is one heck of a read! the author has personally known Roy, as a friend, since the mid 1960s,even attending Harper’s very early gigs at London’s celebrated Les Cousins club, in deepest Soho, where many later famous Singer/Songwriters played nightly, such as Al Stewart, John Martyn, Sandy Denny. Bert Jansch, Davey Graham Paul Simon Martin Carthy ,and ,of course, Roy Harper himself! Harper later went on to a fairly famed career as a Poet/Alternative ‘Singer-Songwriter’, being musically admired by the likes of such famed Luminaries as Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page, Pink Floyd’s Dave Gilmour, Kate Bush, Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson(who later admitted Roy’s Music was a big influence on his career ,in the 1960s!..Having myself personally attended, over 4 decades ,..scores of live Roy Harper concerts. Roy Harper will always remain, for me, personally, quite probably Britain’s very finest Songwriter ,of unusually deep and profound Poetic depth ,and with an acoustic guitar style far far greater than most other Musicians aspired to…(inspired, of course by his contemporaries at the time, namely Bert Jansch, and the legendary Davey Graham!).This book, just now released is a great insight behind the actual meaning of Roy’s Lyrics, and goes song by song, through all of Roy’s amazing Albums ,right up to the present times, that is from 1966’s ‘Sophisticated Beggar’ to his last recorded Album, namely ‘Man & Myth’ and further covers live Recordings and still unreleased songs…what makes Roy Harper stand out way above his musical contemporaries is the undeniable depth of Lyrical Mastery to his Songs, many which now have become ‘Classics’.’ I hate the White Man’/’Another Day’/’When an Old Cricketer’/’Me and my Woman’/’Highway Blues’;/’One of those Days in England’/”Hallucinating Light’/’South Africa’/’12Hours of Sunset’/etc etc ,the list is of course Endless! For me surely surely England’s finest ever Singer/Songwriter, who also possessed a wonderful Vocal delivery, a voice so much more distinctive than most!….,Opher’s excellent book is a lovingly written reflection of Roy Harper’s amazing Musical output, and a successful attempt at revealing more of just what his songs were about! i find it an essential read, and it sits perfectly as a later companion to Roy’s own Musical Biography book, namely his ‘Passions of Great Fortune’, from 2003.!!no-one but Opher could have released a book on Roy Harper ‘s songs quite like this one, i say. Full marks
Reading the book and playing each song after reading Opher’s insight for each has created a whole new listening experience. Having the back story on these songs just adds layers to the unique lyrics and sound of Roy
I am a Roy AND Nick Harper fanatic, and wouldn’t you know it… The industrious and illustriously wonderful Opher Goodwin has written a book about both of their musical journeys!!! I love reading both, especially the one highlighting Roy’s songwriting. Opher is still in touch with Roy as far as I know and was actually present at several recording studios during the making of more than one of those brilliant albums! I can’t say enough good things about his thoughts on each album’s songs and Roy’s life. Truly a must have for any Harper fan because there’s definitely no other book like it! An in depth biography or even autobiography would be most welcome as well! Cheers!
Jonathan Tatomer5.0 out of 5 stars This whole book series is indispensable to the collector
I have everything Roy Harper ever released. Showing wisdom as a youth and still growing. He is one of a small handful who can still write and sing at 80. We are all waiting for the next one
In the 1970s I attended many of Roy’s recording sessions at Abbey Road Studios. It was amazing to be walking into a place where the Beatles and Pink Floyd also recorded. The weird thing was that there didn’t seem to be any security. I often strolled right in and along to the studio without being challenged at all.
Roy would have all sorts of people in there from friends and relatives to members of big name bands.
Nick would sometimes go along.
I remember on one occasion Nick, who was about seven or eight, standing behind the great big mixing desk with the big picture window that looked into the studio where Roy was recording…. like he was at the controls of the Starship Enterprise. Pete Jenner, who was producing the session, obviously enjoyed having him there and was showing him what all the knobs and levers did to the sound. Nick watched intently and peered over the top of the panel into the studio as if he was captain of the ship – Captain Nick ‘Kirk’ Harper.
Photo – Colin Curwood – in the studio at Abbey Road
‘I’ve got loads of memories of the recording sessions at Abbey Road Studios. It was exciting for me and I was always thrilled to see my dad. I suppose I always wanted his attention. I was probably a pain in the arse trying to get his interest.’
‘I remember using a whole reel of gaffer tape on the glass doors at Abbey Road with the long metal handles taping them together, going round and round. Nobody could get out of Abbey Road. Someone had to climb out of a back window and cut the tape. I was into gentle mischief that got me notoriety – gentle prancing about and playing guitars, generally being a pain, but loving it.’
‘I went down in the dead of night nicking choc-ices out of the ice-cream machine. The whole environment was alien to everything else, plush carpets and big mixing desks with all the knobs. It was like being in a space ship.’
‘Pink Floyd were playing in the studio next door recording Wish You Were Here. I was a big Floyd fan at the age of eight listening to Dark Side of the Moon. And I think my dad recorded me singing ‘Money’ and played it to them. I begged him not to but he did.’
‘Peter Jenner was always kind and I felt that he was family since then. I’ve only seen him about twice in the last twenty years. But his wife Sumi often would look after me when I was visiting Roy if he was busy. And Paul, my stepfather, worked for my dad back then. Paul was already employed at the Studio – he was involved with HQ and I brought him together with my mum. So that worked out.’
‘The sound, the big sound, was so loud and so incredible. I remember being freaked out by the force of the end of ‘Same Old Rock’ – it was like Indians on horseback chasing a train. Weird vision I had. It was scary.’
‘I remember listening to ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’ …. being in that session and that was mind-blowing for a nine year old. It was great; I loved every minute of it.’
‘I recall I was sitting on the lap of the receptionist and somehow the silver disc of Yellow Submarine, which was in a glass frame on the wall, fell off and the glass broke so she gave the disc to me. I took it home. It was ‘Yellow Submarine’ cos I played it once. I sold it when I was about 20 for a motorbike. I don’t regret it. I got a lot of fun out of that motorbike.’
At Roy Harper’s Royal Albert Hall concert I was lucky enough to get a seat near the action. Roy was at the peak of his powers and had packed the place out. It was an incredibly strong set with Roy having just brought out ‘Lifemask’. Who would have thought that the best moment of the show would come from an unexpected source?
Nick, looking nervous and wide-eyed, shuffled on to the stage. Roy beckoned him over and sat him on his lap. Nick looked round at the vast crowd and Roy was grinning and laughing with delight at showing him off. Together they sang a duet of Crosby, Stills and Nash’s ‘Our House’. It was so touchingly delightful it was a show-stealer and set the crowd roaring.
‘Royal Albert Hall 73 – I remember being very nervous. I suppose Roy kind of pushed me to do it. Although I was very nervous I thought I should and I did.’
‘It was me shouting Mr Nixon and Mr Heath when he plays Kangaroo Blues but that might have been at the Rainbow. The concerts get all mixed up.’
‘I walked on and sat on my dad’s lap and singing ‘Our House’ probably just a verse. I don’t remember leaving the stage or anything about it because I was really scared. There were all these hundreds of people looking at me. It was such a massive thing to have done that I’ve kept the moment in my memory. By then I’d been living in Wiltshire for three or four years so I guess I’d been developing that worship from afar. It was a good excuse for me to be with him. It was an iconic stage and a brilliant thing to have done. I’m grateful for him letting me do it.
‘I sang there with my daughter Lily 35 years later which was a nice moment. There were tears in the front row and we sang the same song that me and Dad had sung and she sang it beautifully. We stood on the very same spot. It is one of the highlights of my life.’
‘That song ‘Our House’ is an affirmation of a relationship.’
‘It’s each to his own, but I think that for me a solid foundation is a position of strength to go out in the world. Not everybody needs that, not everybody wants that, but I certainly do. All the joy in the world is twice as good when you share it with someone else. I don’t like doing things on my own as much. Everyone likes space and privacy with time to reflect. But sharing a view, sharing a journey is always better.’
‘I knew I was looking for someone at the age of ten. I was ready. I was looking for someone then. I could have taken that alternative and almost did for a year. Then realised that it wasn’t really me and snuffed out the rock ‘n’ roll gad-about and tried to live up to the ideals I sing about.’
The flat 58 Fordwych Road was where Roy lived back in the sixties. It was a meeting place for all the bohemian folkies of the sixties. Everyone used to gather, artists, singer-songwriters and friends. We’d sit around, casually, usually on the floor, sharing a jay, talking, playing music, sharing stories, laughing about things. The kind of thing that everyone did back in the day. Talking about the things that interested us from music, beat poetry to reality and life. A relaxed, friendly atmosphere. People would drop in, stay for a while and toodle off. Sometimes Roy would have a Kodak slide carousel projecting photos he’d taken on the wall. They were of birds and nature. He was always keen on birds and nature. I was at college and most of the people there were, like Roy, a few years older than me. They’d travelled and done things. They’d read the poetry and seen the world, heard the music and achieved things. I spent a lot of time listening and gobbling up the tales. There was a lot of laughter. Good times.
Roy lived in that flat with Mocy and Nick. Nick was only a toddler. If I went round in the daytime he was there and would always greet me with a big hug. In the evening he’d be safe and snug in the bedroom while the gatherings took place.
Nick shared some of his memories with me:
Extract from Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years
‘I was told I used to lie on the floor in front of the speakers from the hi-fi with the music blaring out, lying on the carpet with the various clouds of nefarious substances blowing around the room. I know that the great and good of the folk scene were there quite often but I don’t remember them. It was said that Paul Simon looked in at me while I was in my cot at one point. Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, Jackson C Frank and Davey Graham were there quite a lot. So they all knew me from the year dot. I don’t remember them. I’ve met them all since.’
‘I remember the animals though. There was this chameleon that used to sit on a bare light bulb in the middle of the living room and flick its tongue at passing flies. There was a spider monkey that was a mad thing that used to run around the flat. It shouldn’t have been there really. We had two Chinese robins that used to sing this tune that Dad would whistle and sit on the tap when they wanted to drink. You turned on the tap and they’d drink from it. It is a strange thing. Nowadays when I go to put food on the bird-table I always whistle that same tune….. I thought Dad had made it up but it’s a thing from the fifties – ‘Watch it boys here comes a copper’. My daughter is convinced that a mistle thrush (stormcock) sings that song in the garden. It’s a weird feeling to think that that little tune has found its way from London in the Sixties to Wiltshire in 2015! But they were strange Bohemian times.’
Excerpt : Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years Paperback
Nick Down the Years
I first met Nick in the summer of 1968. I was a young idealist at college in London living the Sixties idyll. I had just met a mad musician called Roy Harper who invited me back to his flat in Kilburn. I did not quite know what to expect.
I rang the bell and went up the stairs.
Walking into the living room of the flat was like entering wonderland – Indian bedspreads over seats, a live chameleon on the lampshade, a picture of Mao on the chest of drawers. It was the bohemian dream.
I looked around with amazement. It was slightly different to the sparse squalor of the student bedsit I shared with my mate Pete.
Roy welcomed me with a grin and a handshake, and then sat himself on the settee next to Mocy, his wife, who gave me the warmest welcoming smile and instantly made me feel at home. She looked beautiful in an Indian print skirt. There was a relaxed atmosphere in the room.
Before I’d even sat down a small child with long fair hair came bounding across the room, flung himself wildly up into me, threw his arms around my neck and planted a great big kiss right on my lips.
Nick Harper had just introduced himself to me.
‘As for the flat in Kilburn – I left when I was four and a half – so not a lot of memories. I remember sitting in the garden downstairs where Eddy Fisher still lives. He’s been coming down to our house in Wiltshire since 1969 every Christmas and some summers and he still does. Sitting in his garden watching an aeroplane go across the sky leaving a vapour trail – for some reason that’s in my head. That’s either ‘Big Fat Silver Aeroplane’ or ‘Aeroplane’.’
‘I can remember bending down in the front garden. I was obviously very small and as I bent down there was a shard of metal from a rusty pram sticking up and I sliced my knee on it. Ran up the red vinyl stairs to Mum (who took me to hospital) and I had stitches in my leg while I watched a mobile spin above me of a donkey and a carrot. Then the nurse offered me what seemed to be a huge bucket of Dolly Mixtures, from which I was allowed to take one.’
This book finally came about because Nick decided that it was time to release a compilation. He was excited by the idea of a retrospective of what he had achieved up until now. He told me that he never expected to even produce one CD let alone for it to sell and be followed by others, sustaining his ‘career’ for so long. He was genuinely amazed and felt privileged to be able to live by doing what he loves doing. He saw this book as part of that package.
This is not a memoir of his life. This is not the inside story. Neither is it intended to be complete. Nick could easily have done this himself; he is a master of using words and knows what he wants to say. Yet he did not want to. It was going back to that reluctance for him to admit that he is good at what he does. He wanted to distance himself and let someone else do the job. That’s fine with me. I have no reticence about singing his praises. I’ve known him since he was a child, I’ve watched him grow and mature, I’ve observed the way he has matured into a man. His ideas, his musicianship and song-writing skills have blossomed; and his family have been at the centre of it all. I’ve been incredibly proud of him over the years and have no doubt that he is a true genius and a human being of exceptional qualities, sensibilities and warmth.
This book is a companion to his set of retrospective albums. Like them it is entitled ‘The Wilderness Years’. That title is partly Nick’s self-deprecating way – to downplay his achievements – and partly because he has chosen to remain low key. If he had played the game, had the desire and pulled out the stops he would have undoubtedly reached a far larger audience.
What I am certain of is that talent like Nick’s does not stay out in that wilderness forever; it does eventually get noticed. Maybe this set of albums will provide the springboard to draw attention to the phenomenon that is Nick Harper and the title will prove prophetic…..
Opher Jan 2015
Postscript
Unfortunately it has taken a further five years to publish this book! Opher Jan 2019
Extract – Nick Harper: The Wilderness Years Paperback/Hardback/Kindle
The one mystery surrounding Nick’s career concerns the level of success he has so far achieved. It boggles me to think that he has not risen to the heights, received the recognition and walked away with awards. He surely deserves it. His time will undoubtedly come. Skills like his do not go unnoticed forever.
I suggested writing a book with and about Nick many years back but he was not keen. Nick is a modest man who neither seeks to inflate his achievements nor crow about them. He simply did not feel he had done enough to warrant a book. There was also the business side of it. Nick naturally shies away from any aspect of the business that is concerned with money making. He abhors anything smacking of exploitation. He feels that he is privileged to be able to do what he does; which is to create and play music. That should be sufficient. He is grateful when anybody enjoys his music and still amazed that he has a ‘career’ and people actually pay to see him. Nick refuses to see himself as a part of the music business or his songs as a commodity. Despite the fact that he knows he has to make a living he is not about to exploit his supporters by producing ‘product’. He does what he feels is right. He writes songs because they are an expression of how he feels. He is the same person on and off stage. There is no eye on the market.
Nick is extremely ambitious in only one aspect; he wants to get better as a singer, musician and writer and pushes the boundaries continuously. When it comes to promoting his career, getting on radio and TV, or looking at potential marketing he tells me he is lazy. That is not true. It is not so much laziness as a disinterest in doing anything that he is not inclined to do.
Nick is one of a rare breed who has integrity. He is genuine and honest. What you see is what you get. He’ll give you time after a show because he wants to. He is genuinely in awe that you should bother to make the journey and pay to see him play. Playing is what he loves doing. He’d do it for free. The guitar is not just a meal ticket to Nick; it is a friend he needs to play in order to keep sane.
