f42
books”. And we could talk about last year’s Bright Phoebus tour on which he got to share a stage with Jarvis Cocker, Richard Haw- ley and various members of the Carthy/Waterson clan playing Mike and Lal Waterson songs – “a real privilege… me and Hawley sat there every night drying our eyes when Norma [Waterson] sang Song For Thirza. We’d be on the bus going to the gigs and Norma was singing all the time, old wartime songs and tradition- al songs and Eliza and Martin would join in and there it was, musical history right in front of you.”
W
Or we could talk about Jim Reeves. Yes, let’s talk about Jim Reeves because we seldom do in these pages. John’s a big Jim Reeves fan. While people keep telling him John Martyn must have been a big influence on Great Lakes, he was actually listening to Jim Reeves at the time. “I murdered those Jim Reeves records. Wel- come To My World; what a great song. And George Jones. Songs where you feel you’ve known them all your life, even though it’s the first time you’ve heard them. I wanted to write songs like that on the album. And I listened a lot to Frank Sinatra too. Just the way those guys put the songs across… and Robert Kirby. I did a lot of string quartet stuff when I was studying music and listening to Robert Kirby’s work with Nick Drake got me into string arrange- ments. On Great Lakes I wanted it to be big but still intimate. There’s nothing like writing a string arrangement and then hear- ing great string musicians play them.”
And we could talk about his primary guitar influences… Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, Richard Thompson, Nic Jones, Martin Carthy. And the day that changed his life when his dad played him Kashmir by Led Zeppelin. “That’s when I knew, I just knew I had to do music.”
And we could talk about the meningococcal septicaemia which struck him down in his teens, fuelled his obsession with Nick Drake, played a big part in the content of his second album Map Or Direction in 2009 and may explain why reviewers always bang on about him being so melancholic. “Nick Drake completely changed the way I thought about guitar. I was sixteen, I was melancholy and walking around in a big coat and I heard Nick Drake and it all made sense. So I sat in my room smoking dope all day transcribing Nick Drake tunes. Either that or Metallica tunes because I was really into heavy metal. Still am. And then dad gave me a cassette of Bert Jansch and John Renbourn together playing Goodbye Pork Pie Hat and I was there even longer trying to get my head round that.”
Despite appearances he’s not remotely miserable. “It’s just that I like minor chords more than I like major chords. And I’m quite a wintery person. I burn easily in the sun. But I get paid to play songs and I have absolutely no justification for being miser- able. I find it extraordinary when professional musicians complain. I had 900 people pay to see me play at the Union Chapel in London last year. I find that incredible.”
Maybe we should mention the Bath International Guitar Fes- tival where he volunteered to be a steward because he wanted to hang out with other guitarists and, discovering they were a contestant short in the guitarist of the year competition, he got up on stage and won it. It led, among other things, to an appear- ance at Ullapool Guitar Festival where he met John Renbourn and Martin Simpson.
At this point we have to talk about John Martyn. Around 2005 Smith was playing in the lobby of a cinema where they were hold- ing a Nick Drake tribute show. Martyn’s agent happened to see him and asked if he’d care to open the show for Martyn when he was in town. He most certainly did and went on play support on the rest of Martyn’s tour.
“I made a small recording in a friend’s living room, pressed 300 CDs, drew all the sleeves, put them in a plastic thing, sold them all for a fiver each and used that money to make my first record. Next time I toured with John Martyn I had 1000 pressed CDs, sold them all in ten gigs and used that money to make more, and built a career. I did everything myself, including being my own agent. I’d write to people like the Green Man Festival and say ‘I’ve been opening for John Martyn, can I play your festival please?’ and they went ‘oh, OK.’ I have a lot to thank John Martyn for.”
You then have to ask, on the road with John Martyn…what was he like? You know, you hear so many stories.
“He was…unpredictable. We had one or two very small run- ins but the rest of the time he was extremely generous and gra-
e could talk about the collaborative Elizabethan Sessions project in which he’s involved with one of his heroes Martin Simpson (and the likes of Jim Moray, Bella Hardy and Nancy Kerr) at which he intends to “drink whisky and read a lot of history
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88 |
Page 89 |
Page 90 |
Page 91 |
Page 92 |
Page 93 |
Page 94 |
Page 95 |
Page 96 |
Page 97 |
Page 98 |
Page 99 |
Page 100 |
Page 101 |
Page 102 |
Page 103 |
Page 104 |
Page 105 |
Page 106 |
Page 107 |
Page 108