The only consolation attached to The Beatles break-up in 1970 was, with all due respect to bon vivant Ringo, the creation of solo careers for three immensely talented artists – Messrs. Lennon, McCartney and Harrison decorating the early years of the decade with a host of accomplished, big-selling albums that further enhanced their already high standing.
At the same time performers such as Elton John, Rod Stewart and Cat Stevens were enjoying huge success at the UK end of the singer-songwriter market, while American counterparts like James Taylor and Carole King along with Canadians Joni Mitchell and Neil Young, were also making extraordinarily expressive music that felt perfect for these uncertain times in the post-Woodstock world.
By the end of 1973 Paul Simon and Jackson Browne had weighed in with a couple of remarkable albums apiece on which they looked studiously at 70s life from a personal and political perspective (although not without a degree of humour) – Browne and Simon, like King, Mitchell, Young and to an extent Stewart, seeing their work held up as gold medal standard; records such as ‘After the Gold Rush’ ‘Tapestry‘ and ‘Every Picture Tells A Story‘ having the distinction of earning widespread critical acclaim while notching huge sales figures.
All of which serves to make ‘PIPEDREAM‘ (June 1973) the first solo album by Alan Hull, front man of folk-rockers Lindisfarne, the great ‘lost’ masterpiece – certainly from a British perspective – of 70s rock.
An LP boasting a dozen self-written songs laden with wit, wisdom and enviable lyrical eloquence, the collection stands its ground against any of the more lauded, commercially eminent releases of the time – the fact it barely registered on the critical radar or made little chart headway not detracting from its artistry and accomplishment.
Born on February 20, 1945, in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, Alan Hull counted window cleaner and mental health nurse among his previous occupations, aspirations to be a folk singer/songwriter leading him to the group of Tyneside musicians who in 1969 formed Lindisfarne.
Gaining renown on the club and university circuit where their good time folk rock went down a storm, they were signed to Charisma Records for whom they cut the stunning debut set, ‘Nicely Out of Tune‘ (November 1970).
Dominated by a brilliant array of Hull originals (the breathtaking ‘Winter Song‘ described by Elvis Costello no less as ‘one of the greatest songs ever written‘), it brought the band widespread attention, a perception they would become a significant force as the 70s unfolded enhanced by the equally assured ‘Fog on the Tyne‘ (October 1971), their second album reaching number one in the UK charts before the year was out.
Two shots-two goals, a couple of hit singles, top draw live act and in Hull a songsmith capable of writing rings around just about anyone you cared to name, at this point Lindisfarne, surprisingly, began to falter.
Third album ‘Dingley Dell‘ (September 1972) while far from a disaster lacked the consistent high quality of its predecessors, unfavorable reviews and growing factionalism within the band leading to drummer Ray Laidlaw, lead guitarist Simon Cowe and bass player Rod Clements leaving to form Jack the Lad with 1973 only a few weeks old. Retaining the name, Hull (guitar) and Ray Jackson (harmonica/mandolin) decided to continue with an intake of new members, but before Lindisfarne II came into being Hull had solo album ambitions to fulfill.
For sessions that took place at Trident studios, London, Hull recruited Micky Sweeney as co-producer, the recent dissolution of the original Lindisfarne having no bearing on his choice of musicians with Jackson and Laidlaw both featuring prominently – the impressive guitar and keyboard contributions of Ken Craddock leading him to becoming a fully-fledged member of the reconstituted band a couple of months later.
Completing the line-up were Jon Turnbull (guitar) and Colin Gibson (bass), the melodies, for the most part, bearing the folk-rock sensibilities of the composer. On the fast-paced material the troupe play with the joyous spirit common to Rod Stewart recordings of the time (Jackson ironically contributing mandolin to ‘Every Picture Tells A Story‘ despite not being credited by name on the sleeve), although on occasion a track is paired back to just Hull on acoustic guitar or piano to emphasise solo album status.
The dozen songs Hull presents (written, according to Laidlaw, at various times during the past five years), show him in suitably contemplative mood. There is evidence aplenty of his trademark compassion and humour, yet on a record that never wastes a second at times it sounds McCartney melodicism has been fused with the lyricism of mid-60s Lennon.
Indeed, there are are broad similarities, in a lyrical sense, between ‘Norwegian Wood‘ and opener ‘Breakfast‘, the protagonist telling the story from a ‘morning after’ perspective.
But from a wistful opening (Hull singing the first a capella), that depicts a somewhat sedate scene, ‘In the morning you rise, night is still in your eyes/Moving warm with content, the memory of your body’s scent/I watch your striptease in reverse,’ the picture becomes darker as the musicians build on the platform provided by Hull on his acoustic guitar – the romantic idyll distorted when the female angle is presented, this no harmless liaison but the activity of an adulterous woman:
‘Oh no, I’ve got to go back home/My child is all alone, don’t ring me on the phone/My husband will be there, it really isn’t fair/He still believes in trust, I’ve got to catch my bus.’
In watching her leave the narrator sounds caught between self-pity and self-loathing – ‘Me and Mrs. Jones‘ this is not – taking himself back to bed, feeling so empty ‘that I must be dead,’ long pronunciation of the final word allowing some Ronnie Wood-styled Faces guitar lines to portray his thoughts.
There is, however, barely a second for the sombre mood to take hold as arriving quickly is ‘Justanothersadsong‘ a gorgeous uptempo period piece boasting smart electric guitar work, Lennonesque vocal and great turn but by Jackson on harmonica that pushes it firmly into Lindisfarne territory.
The sense of familiarity is enforced by subtle observations in the verses and sweeping chorus, Hull offering the view that no matter how complicated life becomes we, as individuals, are not the centre of the universe and more often than not everyday problems are merely a case of ‘human misunderstanding.’
Similar in theme to ‘All Fall Down‘ from ‘Dingley Dell‘ – his sharp-tongued attack on town planners who were replacing character with concrete (this a time before preservation orders) – in ‘Money Game‘ Hull shifts emphasis from the political to the personal, trying to convince rich girlfriend Anna she and a kid from the other side of the tracks had a future, no matter what her wealthy parents may think:
‘I know your daddy is very wealthy/And that he owns half the town in which my old man worked/For
half a crown an hour five days a week/Who was too tired in the night to speak about the things in his head/Oh Anna what does money mean anyway? I’ve got more than all that‘
Even by his early 70s standards – or those of anyone else for that matter – this is an outstanding piece of songwriting (Ray Davies explored similar avenues on The Kinks’ ‘Muswell Hillbillies‘ with songs perhaps as good, but not better), Hull makes clear his distaste of privilege and entitlement.
In these days of a vacuous old-Etonian prime minister it is safe to say Hull would have been writing with a pen dipped in ire.
The instrumental ‘STD 0632‘ – reference to what was then the dial code prefix for Newcastle-upon-Tyne telephone numbers – offers three minutes or so to take stock, this gentle, almost melancholy tune underlining the cohesion of the musicians, contributions from piano, bass and harmonica all exemplary. Hull on acoustic guitar, supported by the ringing mandolin of Jackson, returns to the fore on ‘United States of Mind‘ a serene folk song for which the writer produces a memorable vocal in seeking balance between the complexities of modern life and joy found in simple pleasures:
‘I’m wandering through a fairy story, lost in love and seeking glory/Listening to the music, children smile/
While others with more complex claims, protect themselves against the rain/I’ll let it thunder, let it whistle
Let it blow like hell, I’m not really bothered/And my state of mind has finally been discovered.’
His exceptional turn of phrase is not found wanting either on side one closer ‘Country Gentleman’s Wife‘ a rollicking folk-song full of sly humour and amusing punch lines. Describing the overtures to have come his way from the wife of a rich, elderly landowner, with the last words of the first three verses he shows himself impervious to her advances, irrespective of the enticements on offer – Hull then playing in a more restrained manner and choosing to soften his voice for twist revealed in the concluding verse:
‘I said I was a man with principles and respected the marriage vows/But if she really wanted to, she might persuade me somehow/For one square meal of every day, an unlimited supply of booze/And any old country gentleman’s wife can do anything they choose.’
Side two opening cut ‘Numbers‘ (Travelling Band) offers insight into the life of a touring rock band, Lindisfarne having tackled this subject on ‘Don’t Ask Me‘ although here Hull presents a slightly less skeptical view than that of former bandmate Clements in his composition on the ‘Dingley Dell‘ album:
‘Playing dominos on the big coach, sometimes winning or losing/Playing darts in the bar room, in between the boozing/And later on the stage, playing music from a dream/It’s one for the travelling man/Two for what he’s seen.’
While the melody is reminiscent of a fast-paced Elton John track of the time, you would spend hours going through his catalogue to finds lines with the economy and bite of ‘Later at the reception/Pressmen and their wives/Yes-men with their suggestions/Well-wishers with their lies/Me I’m getting drunker, by the minute let it roll.’
From being on the road Hull returns home, ‘For the Bairns‘ a touching ode to one of his three young daughters. Framed by a brisk piano refrain and decorated toward the end with a wailing saxophone, he is enraptured by her innocence, even though aware it will be eroded as she grows up (‘But pretty soon I’ll tell her that the wickedness and strife/Are only part of living, not life‘). With the end of the day comes escape into dreams, ‘As the magic comes along in the night,’ Hull returning to the theme of watching his daughters’ grow with the equally captivating ‘Picture (A Little Girl‘) on his 1975 album ‘Squire.‘
‘Drug Song‘ is a beautifully performed, but darkly orientated folk ballad, where the composer laments the time he was wasted whilst under the influence of various substances (‘I took a trip to find me a better self/But I only found I’d merely lost all common sense’), some plaintive electric guitar and expressive organ paving the way for the somewhat sobering summation: ‘If you drive me mad, you’ll make mother very sad/And she’ll maybe even cry, she’ll maybe shed a tear/When she sees my coffin go gliding by.’
On ‘Song for a Windmill‘ it is industrialization rather than drugs that have brought about demise, the windmill now obsolete in an era where the miller works in a factory with the traditional countryside structure in a ruin, ‘Your body is all breaking and just the rats call you home.’ The simple acoustic guitar and hand played percussion is superbly atmospheric in creating old world ambience – the music quickly returning to the present with the jazz-rock inflections of ‘Blue Murder.’
The title taken from an English expression equating to a shout of anger or frustration, Hull weaves an intriguing lyric full of caustic Lennonisms’ (‘I know that look on your face, seen it many many times before/I can read it like a book, it’s becoming a bit of a bore‘), through a melody from the place Steely Dan would soon inhabit.
The syncopation between acoustic and electric guitars, electric piano and thudding bass perfectly informs the light and shade of the couplets, Hull allowing himself more clever word play in the final verse (‘Would you like to sweep it clean and use your nice new brush? Or take a chance on the future, get swallowed by the crush?/If you want to pull it off, you’re gonna have to learn to push‘), without ever sounding self-conscious or glib.
With hardly a second in between, some strident piano playing from Hull announces closing cut ‘I Hate To See You Cry‘ – a heartfelt ballad where the composer bestows unconditional love on the focus of his affections, the raw emotion made more absorbing by Hull performing the song alone at the keyboard:
‘I swear by the sun above, I’ll give you every bit of my love/If you’ll just let me see you smile, once in a while/’Cause I hate to see you cry, makes the sun desert the sky/Makes my dreams all run dry, can’t tell you why.’
The perfect conclusion to a record of great expressionism and conviction, it is this collection, aligned to an array of magnificent songs contained on a handful of solo albums and across the spectrum of his 25-year tenure in Lindisfarne, that moved Elvis Costello to say ‘Alan Hull is up there with Ray Davies and Richard Thompson in the really English songwriters.’ In the same BBC documentary made about Hull last year, fellow North-Easterner Sting labelled Hull as ‘unique‘ and ‘world-class.’
The same descriptions would have applied back when ‘Pipedream‘ appeared, but despite a slew of positive reviews sales were decidedly modest – certainly in regard to the trio of Lindisfarne albums that precede it – Hull left with the consolation of being acclaimed once more for his skill as a songwriter, even if these compelling tracks reached a comparatively small audience.
When he died from a heart attack at the age of 50 in November 1995, in their obituary The Independent newspaper wrote of Hull, ‘He was essentially a humanist, whose wryly observant lyrics came from heartfelt concern for the under-privileged and the misunderstood.‘
In the years since a number of his contemporaries have continued producing fine work, but there is still a sense the field of songwriting was diminished when Hull passed at such a relatively young age.
In the documentary made about Hull, Sting adds, ‘he was our Bob Dylan‘ – the difference between them being Dylan challenged instinct and intellect with his writing, while Hull had an intuition when viewing the world that could make you laugh or cry.
The documentary is titled ‘Lindisfarne’s Geordie Genius‘- to which ‘Pipedream‘ heartily attests.
ALAN HULL – ‘PIPEDREAM‘ (Released June 21 1973):
Breakfast/Justanothersadsong/Money Game/STD0632/United States of Mind/Country Gentleman’s Wife/Numbers (Travelling Band)/For the Bairns/Drug Song/Song for a Windmill/Blue Murder/I Hate To See You Cry;
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