Graham Brown Orkney

Return to London

Earlier this year I left Orkney to return to London – but only for a few days. I spent 24 years of my life living and working in the UK’s capital and, according to Mrs Brown (Kathie Touin), this was my first visit since 2014. I went on my own as Kathie was looking after our elderly pooch, Roscoe.

As you might imagine, London is quite a contrast to Orkney: busy, noisy, lots of people, buses, underground (and overground) trains, endless restaurants and bars, so many shops. Well, you know how it is.

I also spent time in the south of England beyond London, specifically the town of Horsham in West Sussex and the village of Headley in Hampshire.

Northfields tube station in Ealing, once my local stop (image: Graham Brown)

To start with a conclusion… Would I move back to England? Well, I have no plans to leave Orkney but if I was forced to return I would, perhaps surprisingly, prefer London to “rural” England. The appeal of jumping on-and-off frequent buses and underground trains in London for free (I would be old enough to qualify for free travel if I was resident) would beat driving on the crowded roads of the south of England, which I did not particularly enjoy.

Anyway, about my trip. Fear not, this is not a day-to-day, blow-by-blow account, but some highlights and impressions…

The gentleman on the bus

For the London part of my trip I stayed with friends, first in Ealing (my old home patch) and then in North Finchley. To get from one to the other, with a suitcase, it was easier to get the tube to Victoria, then take a number 13 bus along the entire length of its route to its terminus at North Finchley bus station. The bus ride was about 80 minutes long, past many famous spots in central London and then the sights and sounds of a busy Saturday in the suburbs.

The double-decker bus had a luggage rack at the front where I put my suitcase. I wanted to keep an eye on my belongings so sat immediately behind the rack in seats meant for the elderly and less able. I decided I could move if necessary.

As the journey progressed a handful of older folk got on, sat next to me, travelled a few stops, then got off, as well as a young woman who waved a cheery “bye” when she got off.

Then, in Golders Green, an elderly but sprightly man with a walking stick got on and asked if he could sit next to me. As the bus set off he spotted the case and asked if I had been on my holidays. No, I explained, I am on holiday. We chatted about this and that, about how he used to live in east London, how he used to love holidays in his caravan, about my career and home in Orkney.

When I mentioned that, before moving to London and the BBC, I worked as a journalist he said that he had been interviewed by a journalist. I asked him why and he said: “I’m a 91-year-old Holocaust survivor.” What can you say in reply? I think I blurted something about him looking much younger, which he did.

In the short part of the journey left to us before he got off I discovered that he had spent the early part of his life in Hungary before being taken to Auschwitz. The interview with a journalist came about because he wrote a book to record his experiences so they could be handed down to his family.

He was a lovely, apparently cheerful, man who did not exhibit any anger or bitterness but a smile and friendship.

Fortunately he mentioned the name of the journalist who interviewed him – Jonathan Freedland of The Guardian – so I was able to look for the article, which was published shortly after my return home…

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jun/06/at-12-i-was-in-auschwitz-my-parents-and-seven-siblings-were-murdered-here-is-how-i-built-a-life

I have since bought and read the gentleman’s book, “Chicken Soup Under The Tree” by Ivor Perl, and it is a remarkable story. He came from a family of 11, only Ivor and his older brother Alec survived the war. I would recommend his book as a wonderful example of humanity over horror.

Foxed by the wildlife

Orkney is more than 500 miles from London as the crow flies, though it might not choose such a long journey, and more than 700 miles by car. This distance, and the Pentland Firth between Orkney and mainland Scotland, means our wildlife is different.

Ring-necked parakeet in Lammas Park, Ealing (image: Graham Brown)

So it was good to see two familiar distinctive species in London that you would never see in Orkney: a fox, when walking back from the tube station in Ealing one night; and several examples in Ealing’s extensive parks of ring-necked parakeets, noisy and colourful birds that have made a home in England. I also spotted magpies, very rarely seen in Orkney, such attractive and intelligent birds.

Sound effects

During my stay in Ealing I found myself singing “(Remember the Days of the) Old Schoolyard”, a hit record for Cat Stevens in 1977. It is curious how certain songs seem to pop (no pun intended) into one’s head.

After a day or two the penny dropped. My bedroom overlooked trees and a footpath, beyond which but out of sight was a schoolyard. The sound of the children playing was reminiscent of the sound effects used on the record. That was why I was singing the song.

Speaking of music

The original reason for my trip was to go to a concert. For many years I have enjoyed the songs of Gretchen Peters and I have seen her play live on numerous occasions.

But Gretchen, and her husband and pianist Barry Walsh, announced that they were going to stop touring. They will still make occasional live appearances but no longer undertake long and exhausting tours.

And so it was that I went to see the final date of their final tour at a venue that was new to me, Cadogan Hall, off London’s Sloane Square.

The concert was full of Gretchen’s wonderful songs, she has such an amazing catalogue, and it was beautifully performed by Gretchen, Barry and their small band. The review by Helen Pocock captures the event well.

Gretchen Peters at Cadogan Hall (image: Graham Brown)

If you don’t know Gretchen’s music do seek her out. The review above was published on a country music website and I know this might put off some folk. To be honest, I wouldn’t put Gretchen into the country category, or any other for that matter. Perhaps Americana if you insist.

And, yes, one of the songs mentioned in the review, Five Minutes, is essential to Gretchen’s fans. It tells the story of an ordinary woman’s life, and how it didn’t quite work out, in the most moving way. Take a look at the lyrics and listen…

https://gretchenpeters.bandcamp.com/track/five-minutes-2

Gretchen and her husband Barry have always been very good at communicating with fans via social media or, when the opportunity arises, in the bar after concerts.

Nevertheless I was surprised, and delighted, to receive a message on the day of the concert from Barry to say stick around afterwards as he hoped to get a few folk backstage.

So, as promised after the show, my friend and I were whisked up some steps to the side of the stage by Barry and into the depths of the theatre to a small reception room. I got the impression that many of us invited had travelled some distance to the gig.

Barry was very much the host, laughing and chatting, whereas Gretchen at the end of an emotional tour looked happy but exhausted. I spent a few minutes talking to, and thanking, them before leaving them to unwind.

Among the other guests behind the scenes, and looking suitably glamorous, was the actor and singer Elizabeth McGovern, better known to many as Cora, Countess of Grantham in Downton Abbey.

My old office

When I lived in London I worked for the BBC in various locations but mostly in Shepherd’s Bush at Television Centre, which you may have seen on TV, a 1960s building with a bowed frontage. Our office was on the second floor and right at the front of the building, looking out over Wood Lane.

Television Centre still has BBC premises at one end, and TV studios at the back, but much of it has been redeveloped, to create commercial offices and, including my former office, expensive apartments. The old reception area is now the entrance to these homes where there is a 24-hour concierge service. Other facilities include a private members gym, swimming pool and screening room.

Television Centre: my old office window now behind the trees (image: Graham Brown)

I ventured into reception with my friend, an ex-BBC colleague, who had the bright idea of telling the receptionist that between us we had worked nearly 50 years at the BBC. So we were humoured while we asked questions and took photographs (as long as we avoided the residents).

Afterwards we had a coffee in one of the cafes on the site. Outside, in the old horseshoe car park at the front of the building, people were lounging in deckchairs. It was very surreal but I rather liked how the building has been developed and given new life.

A search online shows prices from £625,000 for a one-bedroom apartment to £1.6million for a three-bedroom with a parking space.

Me outside Savoy Hill, former home of the BBC

Incidentally, I also went further back in Beeb-time by stopping at Savoy Hill, off The Strand in London, home of the BBC from 1923 to 1932, somewhere I had never visited before.

All aboard!

I love a steam train so I took the opportunity for a day on the wonderful Bluebell Railway in Sussex. It was the first standard-gauge preserved steam railway in Britain, opening in 1960, and its 11-mile countryside route has atmospheric period stations which have featured in many TV and film dramas. Like all steam, or heritage, railways it is largely run by volunteers.

Bluebell Railway: water for 80151, built in 1957 (image: Graham Brown)

The locomotive I travelled behind was almost new when the Bluebell Railway opened. For those of us who like this sort of thing, it was a British Railways Standard Class 4MT 2-6-4T, number 80151. Appropriately, like me, it was built in 1957 (at Brighton, in the case of the engine). This was the time of British Railways’ final flurry of steam locomotive building before the engines were hurriedly scrapped in favour of diesels, or electrics, and 80151 was withdrawn from service in 1967. Happily it has found a new life in its retirement home.

I would thoroughly recommend a visit to the Bluebell Railway though it is not cheap – they have considerable running costs – so arrive early and take advantage of your ticket which allows you to travel up and down all day.

Old friends

There were many other highlights in my trip including …

Long walks in the English countryside with my aunt and uncle, who live around the corner from Headley Grange, a former workhouse where Led Zeppelin rehearsed and recorded;

Marvelling at the beautiful art in London galleries, on this trip the famous National Gallery in Trafalgar Square and the fabulous Wallace Collection in Manchester Square;

Enjoying the history and nature in Highgate Cemetery, now given peaceful beauty by the trees that have grown around the graves and monuments since Victorian times – so many famous people are buried and remembered there, notably Karl Marx, as well as more recent losses such as George Michael, Douglas Adams, Malcolm McLaren and Alexander Litvinenko.

But the highlight of my trip was the people, notably the gentleman on the bus, Gretchen and Barry, my relatives, and those whose names and photographs do not appear in this blog – my friends who I stayed with, or met for meals and drinks. Old friends, good friends, people who I have not seen for years in some cases, but who I am immediately at ease with as if we only saw each other the day before.

I am reminded of the Paul Simon song, performed by Simon & Garfunkel, Old Friends, which has the lyric:

“Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be 70.”

For some of us that day is not so far away. Thank you everyone for a marvellous trip.

Finally, at a time of fear and uncertainty for many in the world, some lines I read on a monument at Highgate Cemetery:

“Behold I know not anything
I only hope that good may fall
At last, far off, at last for all
And every winter change to spring.”

Graham Brown

To find out more

There are more photographs of my adventures on my Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/grahambrownorkney/

Bluebell Railway website

Gretchen Peters website

Highgate Cemetery website

Television Centre: Homes website

A New Old Song: blog by Kathie Touin & Graham Brown

Graham writes:

I have been fascinated by the radio since a young age when I started playing around with a small transistor radio, moving on aged 11 (ish) to borrow my parents’ large Grundig radio with its better sound quality. I listened to pop music, naturally, from BBC Radio 1 but also from Radio Luxembourg (English service in the evening) and from the pirate radio stations operating off the Dutch coast.

Then I expanded my listening to include shortwave radio stations from distant lands, as well as news, documentaries, drama and comedy on BBC Radio 4 – and in those days there was comedy on BBC Radio 2 as well (Hello Cheeky anyone?).

My interest has stayed with me for more than 50 years. Today I have a large collection of radios including internet radios, on which I can listen to radio stations from all over the world in good quality sound.

So I was intrigued when I came across a podcast called the British Broadcasting Century, something of a labour of love for its host, interviewer and researcher Paul Kerensa.

The podcast’s website describes it as: “100 Years of the BBC, Radio and Life as We Know It. Be informed, educated and entertained by the amazing true story of radio’s forgotten pioneers.”

It makes for fascinating listening. Thank you Paul.

One edition of the podcast featured a modern recording of an old song about radio listening in the 1920s. It reminded me of something I had seen on social media – the sheet music artwork for a song called There’s A Wireless Station Down In My Heart.

To cut a long story short, Paul was interested in the song and we agreed that my wife Kathie, a musician, would make a recording for his podcast. Kathie was able to obtain a copy of the actual sheet music and discovered the song dated from 1913.

There’s A Wireless Station Down in My Heart has words by Ed Moran & Joe McCarthy, music by James V Monaco. The song was written when wireless did not mean wi-fi like today and even pre-dates radio broadcasting in the sense that we know it. Instead the song celebrates wireless communication via Morse code, in a rather saucy way.

Kathie writes:

I had to laugh when I first read the lyrics to There’s A Wireless Station Down In My Heart. The title is catchy enough but I don’t think you can beat an opening line like: “Oh, there’s something nobody knows/I don’t suppose anyone knows”. It’s surprisingly naughty for such an early song, though people were probably just as naughty then as they are now.

It is another of these recording projects I take on where I think ‘oh, that will be easy and quick’ and four weeks later I’m still messing around with the arrangement. It began with piano for the accompaniment; because of the time period it’s an excellent, ragtime-style piano part and really good fun to play.

When I’d added the vocal I thought it sounded like it needed a bit more. So I added some old fashioned-sounding acoustic drums in the background. (Using software, I hasten to add. I’m a lousy drummer.) It needed a clarinet and a trombone, obviously; sadly I was unable to fake a banjo part which I felt it could have used. Eventually I stopped messing around with it and ended up with the arrangement you can hear now.

One difficulty I had was the form. We were lucky to find the sheet music online but when I looked at it I wasn’t sure what the order of the sections should be. The chorus has a repeat marked at the end so one would assume you play it twice through. But there are two verses. I decided to just go with what seemed the most obvious structure (verse/chorus/chorus/verse/chorus/chorus) but that has meant it’s quite long – it clocks in at over four minutes.

I remember thinking that couldn’t be right because I didn’t think the recording mediums of the time would hold that much music. But doing a quick online search, I see that the predominant recording medium of the 1910s were flat discs, usually made of shellac resin. A 10” 78 rpm disc could only hold three minutes of music – this has survived to this day as the ‘ideal’ length of a pop single – but a 12” could hold up to five minutes. So it’s not inconceivable that the song may have been as long as my version of it when it was released. Assuming it was ever released as a recording.

I had to look up the authors in order to register my arrangement and recording with PRS, the performing rights agency in the UK. I could find nothing on the lyricist Ed Moran, but Joe McCarthy (1865-1943) went on to write You Made Me Love You (I Didn’t Want To Do It) with the composer of ‘Wireless Station’ James V. Monaco (1885-1945). McCarthy has a long list of credits including several Ziegfield Follies from 1919 to 1930 and film credits including Irene and Rio Rita. His most famous song is I’m Always Chasing Rainbows. I do find it amusing it took two men to write the lyrics to ‘Wireless Station’ (“Ev’ry time he sends me a spark/he hits the mark/right in the dark” etc).

Composer James V. Monaco had a stellar career with his songs recorded by Al Jolson, Bing Crosby and Judy Garland among others. His first hit was two years before ‘Wireless Station’ with a song called Oh, You Circus Day from the Broadway review Hanky Panky. Four of his compositions were nominated for Oscars.

It was great fun learning all this while working on the song. And it’s interesting to think about the changes in musical styles as well as the technology for broadcasting and recording these men would have experienced during their lifetimes. They were both born before the advent of wireless radio communication but during their lives it moved from Morse code through the invention of the telephone to proper radio broadcasting as we’d understand it today. Recording technology began as wax cylinders then changed to 78rpm flat discs (which were the forerunners of today’s trendy-again LP records). Both men died just before the advent of LPs and using magnetic tape was just beginning to be seen as a possible successor to wax for capturing music. They would have first experienced recording with the musicians grouped around a large horn to convey the sound to the cutting stylus; a decade or so after ‘Wireless Station’ was written, microphones became more commonplace in recording studios, creating a seismic change in singing styles that led directly to popular music becoming such a dominant force in music.

It’s a lot to pack in to a cute little song about a lonely girl and her anonymous operator sending her sparks in the dark when she’s lonely and blue. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did recording it.

Graham writes:

You can listen to Paul Kerensa’s podcast The British Broadcasting Century via this website or via other podcast platforms. Kathie’s version of There’s A Wireless Station Down In My Heart appears in the podcast which has as its main subject matter “Early Black British Broadcasters” (released on 8 August 2022).

To stream or download Kathie performing There’s A Wireless Station Down In My Heart – either in stereo or old-time mono – please visit Kathie’s Bandcamp page.

Kathie Touin & Graham Brown
August 2022

Nanci, Don & Charlie

In less than a fortnight in the summer three people whose music was – and is – very important to me passed away.

They were Nanci, Don and Charlie. Their names written together like that suggest a folk trio though I don’t think they ever worked together. But between them they crossed musical boundaries of folk, rock, country, pop, rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, standards, blues, rockabilly, rhythm & blues and big band.

One of them, a solo artist, wrote some of the most affecting songs I know. Another, part of a duo with his brother, influenced so many of the world’s biggest performers with his singing and harmonies. The third laid down the rhythm for what could be the world’s biggest rock band, while playing jazz in his spare time.

You may have worked out who we are talking about: Nanci Griffith, who died on 13 August aged 68; Don Everly, who died on 21 August aged 84; and Charlie Watts, who died on 24 August aged 80.

They were all artists I was privileged to see in concert – ten, three and one time respectively – all in London except the last time I saw Nanci, when I was briefly introduced to her, in San Diego, California.

The death of well-known individuals brings out a range of reactions in those left behind from indifference to disbelief. Sometimes, when an older entertainer dies, I have to admit that I thought they had died some years before. But not these ones – their loss is keenly felt.

When I lived in London I kept a note in my Filofax – remember those? – of the shows and concerts I attended. This is how I know I saw Nanci ten times and, as it happens, the musical Les Miserables nine times (plus, much later, a tenth time, an excellent amateur production of Les Mis in Orkney). I was obviously a big fan of both.

Listening to the public reaction on radio programmes reflecting on Nanci’s legacy – in particular the excellent Another Country With Ricky Ross on BBC Radio Scotland – it was notable how personally invested people were in her music and upset to lose her, even though she had not been active musically in recent years due, I think, to ill health.

Many people contacted the presenters with stories of how much one or another of Nanci’s songs meant to them, and lots of the correspondents mentioned the wonderful personal and family stories she would tell in concert as she introduced her songs.

Listening again to her material, for example There’s A Light Beyond These Words (Mary Margaret) or Love At The Five And Dime, I was surprised how emotional I became.

Nanci could also be political, not in-your-face but in a more subtle way. It’s A Hard Life Wherever You Go is a thoughtful take on being an American in the late 20th century. While writing this blog I came across a specially-made video for the song which I had never seen before.

At one of the first concerts I attended I was sat close enough to the stage to notice that Nanci was wearing an LBJ badge to remember President Lyndon B Johnson. LBJ and Nanci were both proud Texans but nevertheless the badge surprised me given Johnson’s involvement with Vietnam. But afterwards I did some reading and discovered he pushed through civil rights legislation in the US against great opposition.

The music of Nanci is also the reason I met my wife, Kathie Touin. It’s a long story which I will try to summarise…

Back in the 1990s, before internet access became mainstream, emails made an appearance in my office. I somehow learned of a Nanci Griffith fans email group called the NanciNet and subscribed. And, no, it was not strictly relevant to my work.

When Nanci played at the Barbican in 1998 a get-together was arranged for members of the NanciNet who were attending the concert. We met in one of the restaurants. And that is where fate took a hand. I went with my then girlfriend and my parents, who were visiting me, and as there were four of us we had to join a less crowded table where two folk were sat. These turned out to be a female Nanci fan visiting from the United States and a guy from Belgium.

To cut a long story short, we all became friends, and the Belgian guy and myself visited the American in San Diego – this is where I briefly met Nanci (and Rodney Crowell). Later I made a return visit to the States by which time the American lived near Seattle, Washington and there I met her daughter’s piano teacher – Kathie. A year later we were married.

Nanci’s songs sit somewhere between country, folk and rockabilly, she was hard to define. As well as writing brilliant songs of her own she had a knack of choosing other people’s songs to record and perform which she made her own – From A Distance (written by Julie Gold) would be the best known example, others include Speed Of The Sound Of Loneliness (John Prine) and Boots Of Spanish Leather (Bob Dylan).

She also had excellent musicians to play with her touring band. Some, such as the late singer-songwriter Frank Christian, were very talented performers in their own right. And others making guest appearances with her on stage included The Crickets, Odetta and Ralph McTell.

I will enjoy listening back to my many Nanci Griffith albums. We will miss her.

My Filofax records are clearly not infallible because they show two Everly Brothers concerts but I know for sure I saw them twice before I met Kathie. One of the shows had a stand-up comedian as the support act, which struck me as strange. Their band included legendary pedal-steel player Buddy Emmons, the great British guitarist Albert Lee and keyboard player Pete Wingfield.

Do you remember Pete Wingfield’s only hit single? If you do, you are older than you are letting on. It was Eighteen With A Bullet (1975) but, to be fair, he did much else in his career, including writing To Be Or Not To Be with Mel Brooks!

I know I saw the Everly Brothers twice in London because I remember on the other occasion the keyboard player was Ian McLagan, formerly of The Small Faces and The Faces.

Later Kathie and I saw the brothers perform, in Oxford in 2005, possibly the last time they toured in the UK? I remember that Sir Tim Rice was sat a few rows behind us, which gives you an in idea of how well thought of they were. Phil Everly died in 2014.

It should also be noted that though many Everly hits were written by others – notably Felice and Boudleaux Bryant – Don Everly also wrote some wonderful songs, for example the huge hit Cathy’s Clown and the beautifully sad So Sad (To Watch Good Love Go Bad).

And the third member of my trio, Charlie Watts. We all know, or feel we know, The Rolling Stones though Charlie Watts was the most private member of the band. I saw them in concert at the old Wembley Stadium in 1999.

He was a great drummer, not the big flashy drum kit for Charlie, but he was a vital part of the Stones’ sound and I’m not sure how they will manage without him (though early reports are encouraging).

Here’s an expert, drummer Stewart Copeland, explaining Charlie’s technique in an interview for The Guardian: “Technically, what it is, is that he leads with his right foot on the kick drum, which pushes the band forward. Meanwhile his left hand on the snare, the backbeat, is a little relaxed, a little lazy – and that combination of propulsion and relaxation is the technical definition of what he’s doing. But you can try it yourself, all you want, and it ain’t going to sound like Charlie.”

Perhaps that is the way to describe Nanci and Don, as well as Charlie. You can try it yourself, all you want, but they were unique and cannot be copied.

But we can treasure the music they left behind.

Graham Brown

To find out more

Stewart Copeland and Max Weinberg on Charlie Watts in The Guardian:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2021/aug/26/stewart-copeland-max-weinberg-on-charlie-watts-rolling-stones

Another Country With Ricky Ross…

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00hh26l

And from Wikipedia…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanci_Griffith

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Everly_Brothers

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Watts

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyndon_B._Johnson

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pete_Wingfield

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Emmons

Entitled (inspired by music)

Recently I received an email saying I had been “a bit slack on the blog front recently”. I agree. I only posted four blogs in 2020, the most recent of which was in September, and none so far this year. Until now.

I suppose I can blame the pandemic and the resulting changes in daily life though, in theory, it should allow more time than ever to be creative. But somehow it can also create a sense of drift, a feeling that there is no need to rush or meet a deadline.

Well, spurred on by the email and by an improved sense of well-being thanks to increased daylight and the approach of spring (it is now light here in Orkney before 7am to almost 6pm) – here I am.

This blog is a bit unusual, you might even say it’s a bit of a cheat. I was looking at my Spotify playlist of some of my favourite songs. The list is not comprehensive and it does not lend itself to including longer or linked pieces of music, such as Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon or Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony for example. But it gives a flavour of some of the songs, performances and artists I enjoy.

While scrolling through the playlist it occurred to me that I could take a selection of the song titles and shuffle them into something like a free-form poem (apologies to anyone who actually knows anything about poetry). I have kept to the songs I particularly enjoy and not cheated by adding songs to the list just because their titles would be handy to help complete the blog.

Everything from the end of this sentence to my name at the bottom is a title of one of my favourite songs.

A song for you

I came to dance
It doesn’t matter anymore
It’s so different here
I don’t wanna know
Just dance

Who knows where the time goes?

C’mon everybody
Back to California
Kentucky Avenue
Hit the road Jack
Loud music in cars

Is that all there is?

Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie
Picking up after you
Your cheatin’ heart
It never entered my mind
Hallelujah I love her so

Who does Lisa like?

Heart like a wheel
Any road
Cypress trees
The dreaming fields
Waiting on a friend

What’s he building?

Indoor games near Newbury
Doctorin’ the Tardis
Moments of pleasure
Christmas card from a hooker in Minneapolis
She blinded me with science

What’s the use of wond’rin’?

Back in the USSR
The day before you came
All the way from America
Sunday morning to Saturday night
I met you on a Sunday

Who are you now?

I dreamed last night
Walking down Madison
Police car
Band on the run
Don’t come the cowboy with me, Sonny Jim!

Is there any way out of this dream?

When we was fab
One of our submarines
Brainwashed
Cassandra
Queen Bitch

What’s going on?

On days like these
Everybody’s famous
Power to the people
Let there be love
Stardust

What can a song do to you?

Hello in there
Gimme shelter
When I get to heaven
I’ll take you there
Amelia

What can a song do to you?

Say Grace
Grace darling
Three bells for Stephen
Brothers in arms
Bring him home

Wah-wah
Wah-wah

Waiting for the silence

The End

Graham Brown

To find out more

If you would like to check who recorded the songs, and to see what else is on my growing favourites list, please take a look at this Spotify page…

Please bear in mind, as you probably know, that streaming songs on Spotify does not result in much income for the artists concerned. If you love music please consider supporting your favourite musicians and songwriters through the purchase of CDs, LPs, merchandise and concert tickets (online or, hopefully soon, in person).