Stories
If you have a funny tale or anecdote about John Martyn and you would like to share it with the world, this is the place.
Motorcycles and kebabs
I have been a fan of Big Johns for many years and seen him perform on several occasions, often introducing less enlightened folk to his genius. Two gigs spring readily to mind , but for different reasons , on e when I was attending college as a mature student in the west country and the other a little closer to ,what I believe is ,Johns roots.
While studying and living in Devon I read of an upcoming gig by JM in Bristol, several of my fellow students, having never been fortunate enough to have heard John before, were invited back to my digs and enlightened, and ten of us onboard five motorcycles headed up the M5. I am not 100% certain but think it was around 1986 or so, despite the fact that we were all students of Motorcycle engineering, mechanical failure threatened to leave two of our party stranded by the roadside. I have an aunt and three cousins in Bristol and phoned the eldest, Tony, to see if he could help, after explaining our dilemma he offered to drive down and pick up my friends and give them a lift to the gig. I cajoled my friends into paying for a ticket for him from a tout outside the venue and we all crowded in to see John perform with a full band , which blew us all away, a fantastic performance which my cousin still talks about to this day.
The second was at the Kendal leisure and arts centre, maybe two years later, again I had convinced a large number of friends, and friends of friends, to attend, with a party at the farmhouse I was renting afterwards. It was a rather an intimate performance, John and the ever present, at that time, Foster Patterson occupying the stage. I saw this as maybe my one chance of meeting one of my musical heroes and so after a peerless performance I tried to get back stage, with no success. Gathering in the foyer and arranging the convoy back to the farm we headed out to the car park. Walking past the emergency exit to the venue I saw the door was open, plucking up my courage I opened it and entered to be greeted by the sight of JM breaking down his gear and packing up, I walked up to the stage and thanked him for a great night to which he responded with thanks of his own, before I could say anything else a few of the ladies who were in tow had followed me in and there enthusiasm seemed to overwhelm him , they were all talking at once inviting him to the party, which he gratefully declined, trying to entice him with a kebab (I am vegetarian he said) pizza then ? No going home to the Mrs, as he took refuge behind his amp.
Thanks JM, hope to catch you again soon.
Steve Burns, Norway
If songs were lines in a conversation
If songs were lines in a conversation, the situation would be fineEarly 1970's so much good music was around, from West Coast America to London town. I doubt it will ever be equalled. Nick Drake - to the very few who knew of him - was a God. He spoke to the heart of the matter. John Martyn too, in his different way.
'Solid Air' - at the time I simply missed that it was a song for Nick. Nick I never saw live - so few did after all - we just adored the albums. (Big Mick and I, stuck in a cold fisherman's cottage in Anstruther, listening to 'Hazey Jane I' and 'One of These Things First' for hours and hours on end while tripping.)
John I will be seeing on Saturday - some thirty-five years after he and Nick and we first played, listened and thanked our stars for the music.
Peter Palladas
Status Quo v John!
In the early 70's I purchased JM's album Bless The Weather solely on the premise of the wonderfully poetic cover art. Needless to say, the contents matched the cover. A little later John materialized in person in Finland, as a opening act for Free, no less. I couldn't believe my luck. He performed stunningly, and the mix in the concert hall was faultless as he ran his acoustic guitar through the PA as well as his famed echoplex unit. For his last tune (it might have been the last encore) he chose a blues tune that to my regret can't remember. But he somehow got his acoustic to distort just like an electric, and proceeded to play in the dry but driving style of Paul Kossoff. The groove he built up was unbelievably infectious, and he managed to completely upstage the Kossoff -less Free who came on later (the mighty Kossoff having "left the building" some while back). The memory of that night manages to give me chills to this day, I've never heard an primarily folk -based acoustic troubadour do anything remotely like it since that. A little later he turned up in Finland again, this time for the outdoors Ruisrock -festival, by the sea in the beautiful archipelago that surrounds the city of Turku. Other artists at that festival were Vinegar Joe, featuring Elkie Brooks and Robert Palmer, Roy Wood's Wizzard, Status Quo, and the Finnish progrock/fusion band Tasavallan Presidentti that also was making a minor splash over in England. At the time I was working as a label manager for EMI Finland, and I was assigned to meet Vinegar Joe (I think) at the Turku airport. While attending to my duties I noticed that nobody at all was around to meet John Martyn who stumbled out of the plane all on his lonesome. This I thought was completely scandalous, whereupon I took it upon myself to greet him as well, even though I wasn't in any way affiliated with his record company. I offered to help him in any way I could, just as a translator, if nothing else. Turned out JM arrived in Finland horny as hell, and his first priority was to find a suitable female to copulate with. Adamantly, he insisted that he had to get this taken care of before he could function properly. I was slightly taken aback, informed him that I probably couldn't help him on that score, but that I looked forward to his performance later.
The next day I was sitting on the beach, in the VIP -quarters enclosed by a fence, right before the stage erected close to the water. Tasavallan Presidentti were deep into their set, led by famed guitarist Jukka Tolonen. Their performance was blistering, but consisted of the kind of jazz-fusion that was closer to Zappa and King Crimson than straight ahead rock. The press and the other artists were sitting peacefully on the sand, protected by a wire fence that kept the (paying) rabble at a safe distance from the proceedings. Somewhere along the line, this elitist setting irked the ire of the members of Status Quo, who were also, quite loudly, participating in the proceedings. That is, they proceeded to heckle Tasavallan Presidentti, shouting "BOOGIE" at the band all the time, especially during Tolonen's solos. Boogie of course being something that this particular band rarely did at that point. But could have, since 3/4 of the band had started out as blues and soul musicians, which the Quo bozos were completely unaware of. Just at the point where the Francis Rossi and his cohorts were becoming really obnoxious, John Martyn raises his butt from the sand, walks over to the Quo -camp, and in no uncertain terms tells them to shut the fuck up and give the musicians on stage the respect they reserved, or get the hell out of there. The moment was quite unforgettable for me, because at the time John was still quite frail of frame, and in his place I would never have dared to confront the assembled Quo -members in the manner that he did. He shouted them down, bless his heart, and not a sound was heard from them after that. On the other hand, when it was time for Status Quo to perform, they encouraged the audience to tear down the fence that separated the paying revelers from the VIP -crowd and the band. Down it came, like the Berlin wall. And that, I think, was a lot more righteous than shouting down Tasavallan Presidentti. But I'll never forget John Martyn putting a stop to that!
Mikael Wiik
SAS Survival Technique?
This is from a few years ago. John and one his mates (who told me this tale) were on the lash in Kilkenny. Apparently, there's a pub there where all the floors are eneven. As you can imagine, this caused a few problems. Later on, John says to Garry; "Hey Gaz, the floors gone level, we'd better go home while we can still walk". John leaves first while Garry is talking to someone. As Garry walks out into the empty street, he's greeted by the site of the big man rolling over and over in the road. "John, what are you doing down there man?" Asks Gaz. "I fell over and I could'nt get up so I'm making sure a car does'nt hit me" Comes the reply!
Martin
Screwdriver Please
David Lally
Totally Mad
Going back to about '86 I saw John in a open-air festival on the South Bank to mark the end of the Greater London Council (GLC). He did a brilliant set but managed to upset the politically motivated crowd by saying (in the most piss taking manner he could muster) "The GLC will live forever"....boos from the crowd......."Ah f**k yer then......" I managed to blag my way backstage. Then an awestruck guitar mad 16 year-old who thought JM was basically god on earth, I stumbled in to his trailer to see him being serenaded by a pissed Irish man with a battered acoustic (4 strings left) singing "May you never lose your temper............." He was about to, so I just shook his hand and left without sayng a word!
Dean
Abdul el Martyn!
The first time I saw JM was the first time JM had been to my town, Oldham. He got lost ! Well as the big man said "fancy losing a whole town." JM was two hours late and there was no time to rig up the band or do a sound check, he came on and did his best. In between songs and cockups he told jokes, put a towel on his head and pretended to be an arab. He claimed that his daughter was in the back of a limo somewhere with a bongo player. He then used his dead guitar to reflect light shadows across ceiling. He never lost his rag, had all of us in stitches. Thanks JM.
Paul Balm
A JM Experience!
My story concerns an acoustic rendition of May You Never at Leeds Irish Centre in the mid 80's. It was sometime between 1984 - 1988. This was the first time I had seen John, having missed his performance at Milton Keynes in 1982 for the "Six of the Best" Genesis with Peter Gabriel WOMAD benefit. I arrived at the turnstiles, to hear the MC 
announce "once again, thanks to John Martyn!". Back in Leeds, John opened the show with an acoustic set which lasted about 30 - 40 minutes. He stepped onto the stage and light a joint which would have wasted a bull elephant. Something in the joint popped and flared, John glared at the joint as it should have known better. He then proceeded to blast through several blinding acoustic numbers - those with better knowledge, appreciation, recall and anoraks than mine will be able to catalogue exactly what numbers he played. At one point during, "Jelly Roll Blues", or a blues by Jelly Roll Morton - yes I know it's an awful admission - after he'd pulled off a particularly complex run, he took a large drag of the spliff, shrugged his shoulders, and threw an impressed look at the guitar in appreciation of its' skill, as if it was entirely responsible for the manoeuvre.
This being my 'first' gig, I was determined to get a good view of the man. Together with my mate Andy, we'd queue early and managed to get a spot sat on the floor almost touching the stage. If you haven't been to Leeds Irish Centre, it's a great venue, if you get in early. The stage is low, only about 18 inches high, so a floor spot is essential. Pretty soon after the doors opened, the place was full, including the floor. Obviously, an early entry implies not much to do other than drink until Johns appears. Drinking wasn't a problem, getting to the bar was. It entailed stepping over and between people, but at least it had the advantage of being a closer less tortuous route than to the toilet.
About half way through the number that followed the one above, a sense of dread began to fill me. I'd been putting off the thought of the effects of the two / three pints I'd consumed, but they began to make themselves known. That's when the dilemma started. Do I go to the toilet know, or at the end of the song? What if the next song is May You Never?! Better go know I thought, jumping up and threading my way to the toilet. I got there. Fortunately the stalls were empty, but for one bloke. Piiissssssss!!!! I turned to the bloke next to me and said "I needed that", just as the intro to May You Never started. "B*****d!" I said as I furiously finished and zipped up. "I knew he'd play this while I was in the toilet." From behind us a quiet, depressed voice emerged from the toilet booth. "He always does it to me".
Tony Walker
We Can't Follow That!
JM used to play Crewe College regularly because we had the power and the money. He used to come back to the bungalow with the guys and sing and play and get drunker but missing home. I booked him once for a spectacular night with Tir Na Nog and a few others and 'kidnapped' Peter and Robin Sarsted from another local gig. I had just persuaded them to play when they heard John. We can't follow that' they said. 'Who is he?' Ha ha to the famous!
Millennium
John came to my pad on millennium day New Year. He spent all day and all night in my house. After many swallies a few people came to see me because it was New Year. A couple of guys did not know John from Elvis. As the night went on I played one of John's albums and left the cover of the album on the coffee table. As we listened to John singing, the cover of the Glasgow Walker cd was sitting in front of these two guys. One of the guys turns to his pal and says, "that picture on that cd looks like the big man sitting on the couch." His pal says, "I it does but he looks like a brickies labourer!"
'Plastic Teeth Jamieson' from larkie
Strange Substances
John came onto the stage without his band for the first half of the gig. He sat down, took a long draw from something looking suspiciously like a joint and started strumming his guitar. One wag from the audience shouted out "Can we do that John?" obviously hoping to be given permission to smoke substances in the auditorium. John replied "If you practice for a few years, you might just manage it!" and continued to play the guitar.
Normski
Hull 1970s
John played the New Theatre, Hull, in the mid/late 1970's. Asking for requests, several voices chimed in, the last (and loudest) shouting "Over the Hill". John's reply "is that a statement or request, madam?"
Jill Thornton
Suffolk & Good 1993
John arrives late. Gets on stage and proceeds to play for a considerable length of time that obviously exceeds what is expected by the organisers. The Stage Manager comes to the front of the stage to indicate such, so John plays 3 more songs (from the more lengthy canon of his back catalogue) to display his displeasure. Certainly preferable to The Strawbs who followed!
In 1998 John arrived on time. Plays a blindingly good set egged on by a small but exuberant festival type crowd. My girlfriend starts to feel 'hot' and 'faint'. I ignored this as general 'atmosphere'. Crowds 'ninepins' during 'Rock Salt & Nails' as girlfriend succumbs to 'excitement'. I told JM after the gig that he had been so good that night that he caused my girlfriend to faint during 'Rock Salt & Nails' but I doubt he believed me!
Paul and Nic
One Dark Night
One dark rainy night outside The Tron Theatre in Glasgow after spending the last of my money on tickets for both nights of the John Martyn tour, I was waiting outside with a couple of mates trying to snag a photo of the great man. He pulled up and jumped out of the car. I shouted "Any chance of a picture Big Man?" As clear as a bell and very loudly he shouted "Naw fuck off." Very sheepishly I turned to round to my friends expecting a severe slagging, but all they could say was "You lucky bastard, John Martyn told you to fuck off!!!"
Ally Brown
Plectrum Please
John was playing on his own at the ABC Theatre in Hull, circa 1977, and asked the front row of the audience for a plectrum each time he needed a joke.
John played a 'setof two halves' at the Mean Fiddler, London, summer 1999. John came on acting a little wobbly and was nursed through the first half by his very able keyboards man. In the second half he was sensational.
Steve Langridge
It's a Gauloise!
I've been to three John Martyn concerts over the years: two in Reading and one in Cardiff. The one that sticks in my mind is the Reading University concert in November 1977. I had just arrived at Reading, and was very impressionable.
My best friend and I had heard that John Martyn was great music to get stoned to: so we turned up for the concert and had an amazing evening. The combination of John's echoplex, Danny Thompson's bass and the cloud of herbal smoke was a heady combination. I remember someone lighting up what appeared to be a joint next to me - when I gestured for him to pass it to me, he muttered: "It's a Gauloise". Afterwards, the student's union hall where the concert had taken place stank of dope.
Robert
An Anecdote Concerning a T-shirt, a Joint, and much Embarassment
Sometime around 1984 or 5 I saw John play at a bar in Cambridge Massachusetts called Jonathan Swift's. This was the first time I'd seen him since I moved to the US from England and it was great to see him play in such an intimate setting.
For the occasion I pulled out my old well kept Well Kept Secret tour shirt which I'd obtained a couple of years earlier from a roadie in Copenhagen during a stint as stage manager for San Francisco's mult i-media performance artists The Residents. The roadie was wearing the John Martyn shirt and eyeing my Residents "Eskimo" shirt. At the end of the night we negotiated via sign language to trade the now rather sweaty items.
During the Jonathan Swift's gig John spotted the shirt from the stage between songs and said something like "Where d'ya get the shirt? Can't get me one anywhere". At the end of the show I stuck around as the place cleared and introduced myself to the stage-side bouncer as "the guy with the shirt", which was enough to get me admitted backstage. It had been an incredible, luminous performance and I was, of course, totally thrilled to be getting to meet John. We chatted for a while before heading to the bar, where I produced a joint, which we shared. This probably explains why I don't remember much of what we talked about. But I remember very clearly how the conversation ended.
I asked after his daughter. "She's great." he said, "She's my toughest critic". To which I responded, "Yeah, you need that". What I meant was "Yeah, everyone needs that", a bit of artist-to-artist banter, but to John it must have sounded like asshole-to-artist bullshit. He clearly took it personally and said something like "What do you mean? Who d'ya think you're talk ing to". Lately star-struck, quite stoned and now embarrassed, I stuttered something apologetic like "Oh, no....I mean...someone I've admired for years.... I...uh..." but I couldn't find a way to salvage the situation. I was thinking, "Great, there's so much I'd like to ask this guy. I'll never get the chance again, and I just blew it". I ended up making a speedy and embarrassed exit, kicking myself all the way home.
Laurence Campling
Delayed in Sicilly !
I think it was about the mid Eighties when John did some reunion gigs with Danny Thompson at The Shaw Theatre in London. It was just John on a stool with his acoustic and echoplex, Danny Thompson slapping the Double B and Arran Ahmun giving some rhythmic accompaniment. This was such a rare occasion we went at least three times, each one different. John and Danny were obviously enjoying the gigs and had taken to telling jokes between songs. One night Danny Thompson started to ask a question "What do you call a scouser in a semi-detached?" This was such an old one and I could not resist " A burglar" I shouted (from only the second row I hasten to add). "You bas***d!" shouted back Danny, and the audience and JM laughed in a mocking fashion.
My worst experience with JM (and I have had a few) was a most surreal affair at the Mean Fiddler in London. My girlfriend and I had persuaded some friends from work (to whom we had given JM tapes) to come to a concert. AS with all JM club gigs, you had to wait some time in cramped overcrowded conditions for him to make his appearance. WE had got there early and had been standing there waiting for a couple of hours and I am starting to get worried. Arran Ahmun, Alan Thompson etc had all been on to check instruments and an announcement came over the PA that John had been delayed on his flight from Sicily and the gig would be starting in about an hour. An hour passed and I am now convinced that JM is not gonna show. WE start to playfully shout things like "Come on John, you are pissed again, get yer arse out here" etc. A couple of middle aged fans in front of us start to get irate with us insulting the great man. But I knew...
Eventually, about three hours late, John comes on to applause and picks up his guitar and starts growling and shouting at the sound guys to solve the bit of feedback, then moans at his guitar roadie for tuning his guitar wrong. Bad signs. the band then launches into "Mad Dog days". Then came the big guitar solo. John goes into it and then, amazingly begins to projectile vomit into a bucket that had been placed next to him on stage - all the while playing the fucking solo! He then collapsed in a heap and was dragged off by two roadies as he clutched his stomach. I was the first to the door and got my money back. I could not listen to another JM record for a whole year after that. I am back on track now but his gigs can be a bit hit and miss. A good pal of mine used to work very closely with John and he describes him as a "drunken, mad, Scottish, schizophrenic son of a bitch" which I think sums him up rather well.
Mike V
Make No Mistake
I feel compelled to share my feelings about this quintessential John Martyn song. For many years it was my favourite song, even my personal theme tune, sung from the cliff tops. For me it epitomises all that makes John Martyn so important and so vital. It's also part of an outstanding emotional outburst called Inside Out that sneaked and roared its way deep into my psyche in the mid-70s.
The song starts with an instantly catchy and smoothly rhythmic intro on John's acoustic guitar - no echoplex this time - joined by Danny Thompson's double bass and some shuffling drums and high hats. The rhythm and tone are blues but tinged with jazz in a shimmering upbeat tradition rather than a complete downer. Then John's effortless voice drifts in, in mellow mode, do-be-da-ing along with it and he seems to be singing of happiness, but what's this? The words are suggesting he could be suicidal!
"If I can't be a happy man,
I won't be no one at all.
If I can't be just who I am,
I won't let you come to call."
No, it's a protest to his lover, demanding his freedom. John wants to be happy, he wants to be loved, but he needs his space.
"I was all right before
I walked through the door
I was all right outside
But inside I had to cry."
So John was just minding his own business and then walked into trouble with a capital T. Suddenly he's out of control and his world is thrown into confusion. He compares his outward serenity, matched by the lilting rhythm and tone of the song, with an increased sense of desperation in the second half of the verse. There's an ambiguity here as well: is he talking about being OK while he was physically outside the door and then crumpling once inside, or is it purely metaphorical, contrasting his exterior with his inner feelings? Sometimes I hear it one way, sometimes another.
He raises his voice to contrast being "all right before" with how he felt after he walked through the door: these last words sung in slightly sharper, not yet staccato bursts, followed by the broken sinking sound of a prolonged "outside" and a sotto voce "but inside I had to cry". All is not well, implying the inner turmoil, the questions ... Immediately he's into describing his roller-coaster emotions and the words are matching the music:
"Low today, high tomorrow,
I see that it's real."
John's still singing smoothly here, but becoming more animated...
"One man's meat's another man's sorrow
Do you know how it feels"
The voice is getting more grave now...
"To be dead drunk"
rasped in his nascent patented growl
"on the floor" - down he goes...
"To get up, to ask for more" - and he's up and at you, a raging drunk, fighting for his dignity...
"To be lying in the dark
Cry-y-y-y-ing" - deep in the slough of despond, wringing every last depth out of his voice, then straight into the next verse, with Danny's bass beautifully picking out the lilting rhythm of the piece.
"If I can't be a peaceful man
I will be who I can
If I can't get everything I want
I'll just get what I can (oooh!)"
A selfish, hedonistic philosophy being preached here (but in the song "Look In" the words are belted out in a way that ensures the listener knows John hates that attitude) but then the self-mocking exclamation (printed "strewth!" on the sleeve of Inside Out).... And then he's reversing the movement of the first verse. Now he contrasts feeling all right inside with external nervousness and wariness:
"I was all right before
I walked out the door
I was all right inside
But outside I had to look again again again again"
- and now John drifts into free form word play, supported with virtuosity by Danny and co, as he scats into John Coltrane territory (the phrase "A Love Supreme" is no accident), chanting the torment and lust and joy and sorrow of love, soaring and shouting and whispering and cajoling, slithering and sliding and eliding his words into each other, twisting them this way and that to reflect the different meanings. It's like he's holding up this wondrous diamond in his hands, to examine from all angles, and finding something different on every facet, something like this:
"Love, again again again and again a love again a love supreme a love supreme a love supreme a love supreme divine, anyway that you want it to be It's love... It's love... Love...Love...Love"
and in the background there's this maelstrom building up with a restrained howling, whining, raging echoed guitar cranking up to meet the frantically strumming Spanish guitar and the bass and drums and then Chris Wood's sax joins the party and it all comes together and collapses over and over again like waves on the shore and triumphantly he sings again and again:
"Make No Mistake: it's love, Make No Mistake it's love!
Divine it's fine it's wine it's time it's love
Love, Love, Make No Mistake It's Love... Love... Love ... Love"
and it's wonderful, but then sometimes you think he's singing "Make No Mistake In Love" and it sounds like a dire warning and the whole thing echoes with menace. Whatever you get from it, don't mess with it. Eat it sleep it drink it but don't mess with it.
If you don't get the point, Ways To Cry follows and that tells you what happens when you're unfaithful, from the pits of his heart ….
Bob Jacobs
Lancaster University, England, 22/11/78
Shout from the audience, "Are you a Christian?"
John Martyn, "I came here to enjoy myself!" [gives a fine performance of Over The Hill]
Another shout from the audience, "'Go Down Easy'!"
John, "Yeah, I heard some bloke playing Go Down Easy the other day, he played it better than I did!"
Uncertain laughter from the audience
"F***in' c***, I wanted to cut his f***in' hands off!"
Roars of laughter
St.Georges Hall, Exeter, England,1998
Shout from the audience, "May You Never!"
John collapses in a fit of laughter,
"Sorry, it's just that May You Never is like the *death knell*- I have visions of myself in a *wheelchair* going "M-a-a-a-ay Yo-o-o-u-u-u N-e-e-e-e-e-e-v-e-e-e-e-r-r-r" [John speaks in an old, bleating voice]
I'm not saying that I'll never sing it again, it's just that........time and a place for everything....."
Ian Barnett
The Only John Martyn Fan In Indianapolis
In the late 80s, I spent some time in Indianapolis. My wife came from there, and as soon as I arrived, fresh from North London, she introduced me to some local musicians that she knew. I was a guitarist myself, and I think she figured that musicians, being a worldwide brotherhood of mad bastards, would make me feel at home. I got to jam all over the shop. The music was mainly blues, and her loft apartment was soon playing host to many guys who looked like they had just broken out of San Quentin. Your average blues players, in other words!
There was another music scene in Indianapolis at the time, though. A more folky country tinged one. I was amazed and impressed to meet people who had never been within five thousand miles of Cropeddy, but who had all the major Fairport Convention albums. These same people knew the words to all the major Richard Thompson tunes. Mention John Martyn, however, and it would be glazed expressions all round. The frustrating thing was that not only had none of them heard of him, but due to a monumental cock up on my part, I had left all the tapes I had prepared to bring with me at home in London!
I scoured the record shops, fleamarkets, etc, in order to maybe pick up an album that I could play to the folks. No luck though. We even drove to Anderson, Indiana one day, to see a record store that had a reputation for British imports. They were all there. Every obscure British artist of the last thirty years. All that is, except for JM! Well, I did find a copy of the Tumbler, but that wasn't quite what I had in mind!
One Sunday, we were invited over to a friend's house. The garden was full of drunk musicians, and as dusk came and went, we were all gathered round in a circle, playing away. I would play the first few chords of a tune, and they would all join in. Now there were several people there I had not met before, so I thought that maybe one of them might have heard of the big man. I started to play May You never , and instead of participation, I got a polite audience. I finished, and someone said, " One of yours Pete? Not bad!" Someone else finally said, " I know that song." I felt vindicated. I was not alone! There was another soul out there in Indy who knew of JM. Then, the guy finished his sentence! "..yeah, I know that song, it is one of Eric Clapton' s isn't it. Off of Slowhand !" Well, after that I thought that JM appreciation would have to be kept between me and my partner!
Some time later, we went to an open mike night at a folk club. There were a few faces there I knew, but also some folk I hadn't met before. The standard was good that night, and I decided not to go for just my paltry songs. Instead, I went for an odd version of One day Without You that I used to do, deviating from JM's structure a bit, a bit more bluesy, but still recognisable as his song. It went down pretty well, and a friend came over and asked me if the song was one of mine. Well, I usually did own up to covers straight away, but I was a little drunk, (well, rather a big drunk actually) and I didn't say it was mine, and I didn't say it wasn't. I just grinned inanely! I noticed someone on the table next to ours start to pay attention to me, and give me so me odd looks! Remember, by this time, I was convinced that I was the only John Martyn fan in Indianapolis! Well, this guy from the other table got up, and collected his guitar. He was the next man up!
After a little tuning he announced his first song. "This first number is by a great British songwriter, that I know at least one other member of the audience has heard of!" He proceeded to play Discover the Lover . Not only was it a John Martyn song, but from the same bleeding album as One day Without You. I left the club that night a much drunker, but only slightly wiser man. I had learnt two things. One, I can be a bit of a tosser at times, and two, there was more than one John Martyn fan in Indy!
Pete Grant