Tag Archives: Barbara Dickson

Some Moments in Time —

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Another musical post from Jack – –

Back around 1964 my old singing partner Barbara Dickson and I shared the stage a few times with a couple of guys called ‘Robin and Clive’ (Robin Williamson and Clive Palmer). They played regularly in a club in Edinburgh – Robin singing Irish and Scottish songs and playing guitar, while Clive played banjo and sang Appalachian songs and blues. They were at the forefront of things and very, very good!

They were so good that they were signed up to make a recording. So they decided to recruit a third person and give themselves a collective name. The third member was selected after auditions were held – unheard of then in the world of folk music! The successful applicant was Mike Heron, whose previous experience was in rock groups – he had played at the notorious ‘Snakepit’ near my hometown. The name they chose was ‘The Incredible String Band.’

Their first album was a big hit and created a stir outside of the folk world. There are reports that the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were influenced by them, and there’s another report that Bob Dylan said that Robin’s ‘October Song’ was “quite good” (maybe Robin didn’t know that that means very good in America).

But Clive wasn’t happy with the group’s direction, so he headed off on the ‘hippie trail’ to India and beyond.

Time to prepare for more prestigious gigs and more records. Robin and Mike recruited their girlfriends, Licorice McKechnie (yes, that was her name) and Rose Simpson. They quickly learned to play various instruments proficiently, and the band became a foursome.

The next thing was being booked for Woodstock, which didn’t go too well – – –

But they continued to tour and played many big concerts at famous venues.

I’m a big fan and always have been from their very earliest days – here they are, and it was hard to pick just one, but it has to be this: The Incredible String Band: “This Moment”

Next week, more from Jack

The Day Before The First Day

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A bit of background: Jack and Wendy are hosting Oliver and Barbara, dear friends from Scotland. Jack and Barbara are old singing pals, and Oliver is a TV Producer. They’ve always wanted to see some of America’s West, so we are on a road trip until July 25, headed out through Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, Wisconsin, South Dakota, North Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, and possibly a bit of Kansas. We’ve been planning this trip for a year now, starting July 9. Read along from an armchair where the sunburn and skinned knees won’t hurt quite so much as our plucky band of woefully unfit Brits and their bemused, disorganized token American take this road trip.

Spirits are high, and so are temperatures. Our Barbara got off the plane carrying more than her enormous red suitcase; she’d picked up a fellow traveler that stole her voice and brought the hacking, coughing, ear-clogging, cotton-wool head of “that thing going around.”sick-on-vacation-1

We all still love Barbara, but she was better on Friday, and I was down with it. Whatever it is, it strikes fast. As I was stewing in my bed of misery (Okay, upstairs on the chaise lounge in the classic room, covered in foster kittens) OIiver came by and said, “Have you got anything for a sore throat?”

Third victim claimed.

Jack, of course, never gets these things, because he smokes, drinks, and doesn’t eat vegetables. He’s a genetic anomaly, and he is cheerfully watching the rest of us hack up small pieces of lung and down Sudafed, emitting sympathetic noises and downing doctored cokes. Maybe I should drink more whisky.

Still and all, we were so excited to begin this road trip that we piled one recovering, two hacking, and one pickled passenger into the little Nissan van—we gave my parents the Prius in return for the loan of this larger vehicle—and headed off to Frankfort, KY right after Barbara’s last concert Sunday. Old friends Charles and Mary had agreed to bed and breakfast us overnight, being sweet people. I was very much looking forward to catching up with them as well. As storytellers on the early road, Mary and I were used to artists asking for a crash pass.

All this I explained driving up the road. At the end, Oliver commented, “Yes, I’m sure your old friends will be delighted with our in-chorus coughing.” Well, yes. I still wasn’t ready to admit we were sick, despite the fact our voices were so low, we were covering Statler brothers tunes in the car.

C’est la vie, and we did try to avoid touching anything much at Mary’s, and put our laundry in the washer. The most magnificent breakfast was laid out on their glorious screened-in back porch, including “Eggs a la Charles,” a mixture of all that is good in the kitchen world.

Thoughtfully, Charles and Mary had arranged a racoon visitor from their nearby woodland. He’d clearly been out all night partying and was working his way home when he passed by. Jack offered him a whisky.

And so we start out on Day One with spirits high, fevers somewhat abated, and more Sudafed. Hi ho for a life on the open road.