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ROY HARPER AT CHELMSFORD
MARCH 1989
(Artwork by Bernard Hill)
Having seen Roy at a variety of different venues over the past few years, it
seems that each gig should be judged on its own merits – each is an experience
in itself.
The journey to the gig was a nightmare. Liverpool Street train station was undergoing
a makeover and we had to find our train amongst the chaos. An employee of BR
pointed us in the direction of the right platform and we set off, only to find
that the train went straight past Chelmsford, unlike as advertised on the departure
board above the platform and by the BR guy – we came really close to pulling
the communications cord but made do with disgruntled noises until we could get
off at Colchester. Time was ticking and we had to wait for a train back from
Colchester to Chelmsford, barely making it to the gig in time and in serious
need of a drink.
The Essex Institute of Higher Education Students’ Union made available
their sports hall/gymnasium/basketball court for the event; but what the venue
lacked in atmosphere was soon compensated for by the assembled hard-core of
followers – some, like us, had travelled many miles to be at Roy’s
southernmost gig this tour. As we sat ourselves down on the (very hard) wooden
floor, Jacqui glided past on a skateboard – obviously the quickest way
to reach the sound desk at the back of the cavernous building. Roy soon appeared
from behind a door in the corner, to loud applause. He compared the hall to
a church…‘Hmmm’, and went into Tom Tiddler’s Ground:
we were off!
“My songs are my Sunday best,” said Roy. “In 1970 or ’71
I wrote ‘space is just an ashtray’…it’s not that hard
to be a prophet.” In many ways he’s right, with the inevitability
of consequences from that which the politicians choose to ignore; or more recently
throw out red herrings…Born Again Greens = BAGS?
These are the songs we can remember, but in no particular order: Jack of Hearts,
Naked Flame, Unknown Soldier, First Thing in the Morning, South Africa, Loony
on the Bus, Twelve Hours of Sunset, Garden of Uranium, Descendants of Smith,
Stonehenge, Pinches of Salt, Playing Prison, McGoohan’s Blues, Me and
My Woman, Commune and One Man Rock ‘n’ Roll Band. What a feast!
Most of the crowd sat transfixed during each song, applauding and shouting out
various requests in between; the occasional drunken noises from the back mainly
blotted out by Roy’s playing. The spring-loaded exit door was a nuisance
though – as well as succumbing to ping-pong-ball-sized bladder, though
care was taken on closing the door when it was our turn.
Roy introduced South Africa. “…and wonder that words in the wind
blow, happy that hers are the same…English…and that one day she
might understand that apartheid is total bullshit.” The words were carried
along on a rippling stream, and concluded with delicate harmonies. Roy wasn’t
happy with his playing and blamed the acoustics of he hall, or lack of. (Perfectionism
is one thing, but craftsmanship is quite another). He ruffled his hair to become
the ‘Mad Professor’, a bit like Per Yarroh and Einstein combined.
To foil the bootleggers (one of whom had actually asked his permission to tape
the gig!) he whispered in a Scots accent the tale of kindly relieving an acquaintance
of a small quantity of sub-standard combustibles, much to the mirth of the front
half of the audience. In-concert tuning, following a broken string, resulted
in explosive twangs as Roy stretched and released the strings of the Ovation
like a longbow. “So they don’t go out of tune when I hammer them,”
he explained. A call for the setting-up of an annual free festival somewhere
in this country elicited a huge cheer and led into ‘Stonehenge’
about the spirit of June 21st and how Hasseltine, or whoever, unleashed the
full force of the louts of the law in a barbaric attack on people whose only
crime was the pursuit of freedom. It’s an excellent song.
‘Twelve Hours of Sunset’ too us back to the view from a plane window
on the way back from Turkey last year, watching the prism of the horizon changing
colour. A beautiful song, which Roy ended with a sustained ‘Whoooosh’
at full volume – like an untrappable image attempting to flee the confines
of the hall.
Introducing ‘Pinches of Salt’ … “We’re all about
80% water, so if you took everyone they’d make a five foot ocean the size
of Switzerland; hence to the tune of the moon on the ocean.” He played
a wonderful version of ‘Me and My Woman and it was great to hear McGoohan’s
Blues again. Roy concluded with ‘One Man Rock ‘n’ Roll Band’
– still one of our personal favourites and performed with all the guts
it deserves.
Tumultuous applause followed, but despite many cries and shouts for more (one
hopeful even tried “How about please?”) Roy left the stage remarking
that the ‘place’ had got the better of him in the end, and thanked
us all for coming. We felt that Roy had more than overcome the lack of atmosphere
at the rather strange venue, and could have sat listening all night! However,
he wasn’t to be coaxed back and we were astounded to discover that midnight
had come and gone – a set lasting more that two and a half hours had passed
in a split second.
As the place slowly emptied, amid the discarded plastic beer mugs and general
debris, we found ourselves at the edge of the ‘stage’ listening
to Roy discussing the merits, or otherwise, of various venues in the area. He
seemed a bit unhappy about the acoustics, saying he’d found it impossible
to play some of the songs he’d wanted to and feeling he could just wash
forward over the stage without the response and intensity of proximity. He shook
hands with us and, for a while, gave us his full attention to find out our names
and where we were from and to thank us for being there, as well as signing our
copy of Flashes from the Archives of Oblivion. Our first personal meeting with
Roy and a very warm moment of empathy and affection…short and sweet; these
hands will always be reaching across the ocean.
Dave and Sue Burnham 1989
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