THE PROG INTERVIEW
He masterminded three of the all-time great folk prog acts in Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span and The Albion Band. Now Ashley Hutchings reflects on an all-encompassing, remarkable career.
The Prog Interview is just that: every month we’re going to get inside the minds of some of the biggest names in music. This issue, it’s Ashley Hutchings, or, as Bob Dylan has described him, “the single most important figure in English folk rock”. He played a role in founding Fairport Convention, Steeleye Span and The Albion Band, and has just released what could be his last ever album. Here, Hutchings tells Prog about a life that has embraced Eddie Cochran, Anton Chekhov, Tottenham Hotspur and personal notes from Dylan.
It was a pilgrimage that began with a Luxembourg trained transistor and
Elvis Presley’s Heartbreak Hotel. It reached both critical and creative mass with the monument to electric folk that was Fairport Convention’s Liege & Lief. It now reaches what may be its recording conclusion
I have to say, and I hope the others won’t be offended,
that Sandy Denny cannot be bettered,
will never be bettered probably, in my lifetime. Sandy was just ace.
with the sage eloquence of Paradise And Thorns.
The sixdecade musical expedition of Ashley Hutchings MBE has traversed this land and far beyond, and now, at 73, he reaches what he thinks might be its final studio staging post. The new record, subtitled Gloucester Docks Revisited And Other Tales of Love, sees one of the founding fathers of progressive folk reopening the pages of an autobiographical love story he shared with us on 1987’s By Gloucester Docks I Sat Down And Wept.
Founded, as was its predecessor, on a real-life affair with a stillunnamed paramour, the new record (reviewed in Prog
92) updates their narrative to its present-day postscript. Even more ambitiously, it offers a second disc that explores love in all of its manifestations. But then, Hutchings never was one for half measures.
The writer, vocalist, bassist and so much more, the man they came to call ‘The Guv’nor’ was born in Southgate, north London, in 1945. He mirrored a generation with his early devotion to skiffle and rock’n’roll before immersing himself in the blues, and in a 1960s arts scene expanding kaleidoscopically across the capital.
Thus to the fledgling Fairport, the group he co-founded after meeting guitarist Simon Nicol in 1966. They echoed their American heroes before finding an English voice that created modern folk’s ground zero, but soon he was away to become a founding member of Steeleye Span. Three albums later, Hutchings was gone again, this time to erect the third pillar in his mighty artistic triumvirate, The Albion Band.
But those sturdy oaks only stand for part of a story that has embraced work with the National Theatre, one-man shows, radio projects and myriad other collaborations. As a collector,
student and champion of musical tradition, he is literally the English song and dance man.
How did you come to make such a compelling return visit to the scene of Gloucester Docks?
Well, I had met the lady in question in 1986, and I had written a number of things during the relationship: poems, letters, some song lyrics, and I realised that if I put it in the right order and wrote a few new things, it could be an album.
From that moment on, nothing could stop me and it did in fact become my favourite album, at that point. I had a fantastic group of people working on it. That band is one of the best I’ve ever worked with. I would say second after the Liege & Lief Fairport band, in my career.
So the album came out in 1987, and it died a death, because it was on the wrong label. But it did register with people and, down the years, a lot of people have come up to me and said,
“Gloucester Docks, that’s my favourite album, when are you going to do another one?” So it’d come into my head to do another. Then I had a lot of illness problems, and I thought, “I must get the original out again,” and Talking Elephant, bless them, who’ve supported me for many years, said they’d put it out again, and they did, in 2013.
How did that lead you to making the new album?
I had lost track of the woman – only 10 people or so know her identity – but I had her mobile phone number, and I rang to tell her that it was coming out again, because ultimately she loved the album. But I couldn’t get through. Then I thought, “If I’m ever going to do this album, now is the time.” Over the next week, it all came together, with the idea I’d had before of using film clips, because the whole thing is kind of like a movie. Then I thought, “I’ll ring again,” and she answered. I was speechless. That just made it right in my mind that I was doing it. I was getting deep into the psychology of romantic love, and halfway through it all, in the winter, it became a second album in my mind. I started to do that as well, and of course I had carte blanche. I could do anything about love, of any historical point, mythology, anything I wanted, and what you hear is what came out.
It does have the audio-visual nature of a lot of your work, almost like a stage production.
It started with the film clips.
I kept coming up with ideas that were breaking the mould, for example having an entire short story by Chekhov, which I think is hilarious. I was thinking, “Who would do that… no, do it, put it on the album,” and I’m so pleased I did. But yes, as well as the radio work I’ve done, I did four years at the National Theatre working with actors in productions and music with the Albions. So yes, it’s all come together.
From the present day, let’s go all the way back to your growing up. What’s the first music you can remember hearing?
My father playing. He was a wonderful pianist, and he had a grand piano in the house, even though it was a small house. He had been a band leader mainly in the 30s and 40s: Leonard Hutchings And His Embassy Five. The remarkable thing about my father was that he didn’t read music, and he was a bandleader who led from the piano. I was in awe of him, and there was always
It’s one of the great pleasures of my life, the people I know
I’ve helped along the way
by bringing them into bands and recording
with them.
the sound of the piano in the house, which was lovely. The first record I can remember was Heartbreak Hotel, which absolutely blew me away. I listened to it on Radio Luxembourg, late one night when I shouldn’t have had the radio on. I loved rock’n’roll, I saw Eddie Cochran at the Finsbury Park Empire. Then I got deeply into the blues, the real stuff. Dr K’s Blues Band was one of the earliest bands I formed. I always seemed to be the one that formed these bands, or the leading person. We really got into the obscure stuff, and I loved the blues for some time. Interesting that with all these early years, it’s very much American music.
What was the scene like in the early- and mid-1960s?
I went everywhere. I was so lucky that I lived in London and I could go to all the blues clubs, folk clubs, the great rock packages like the Ronettes supported by The Rolling Stones and other English groups. I saw classical concerts at the Royal Festival
Hall, saved up my money to go to Ronnie Scott’s, so I was taking absolutely everything in. What I knew from early days was that jazzers and skiffle people were involved as well. You could go to a folk club and hear all kinds of stuff, and this predates Fairport. I remember going to [Les] Cousins in Soho and seeing Paul Simon, who came on stage and said, “I’ve just had a call from America, and The Sound Of Silence has just gone to No. 1.” They’d overdubbed Fender guitars to it. So we can’t take too much credit [as folk rock pioneers]. I’ve always felt that folk is all-embracing.
The early Fairport sound was very influenced by American artists, wasn’t it?
Yes, the only thing that set us apart was that we found fairly obscure singer-songwriter material, like Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, before they were well-known. We tended to do short, lyric-based songs. Then, bang — the light bulb went on in ’69, and we invented a new genre with Liege & Lief.
That album is regularly cited as the British progressive folk record, and of course it was voted Most Influential British Folk Album Of All Time at the 2006 BBC Folk Awards. Do
you think that’s deserved, or does it underestimate Fairport’s other work?
Liege & Lief is Fairport’s best by an absolute mile. It heralded a new genre, you can’t say that about many records. I still love it to this day. Yes, there are other very good, even great Fairport albums, I think a few of the Fairport members would choose Unhalfbricking, but I would go for Liege & Lief, head and shoulders.
Do you think if you’d known that appetite for English electric folk was there, you’d have moved to it earlier?
We were capable of doing it sooner. I don’t want to pin it on [Dave] Swarbrick, as songwriters have, or indeed Sandy [Denny], who brought folk influences into the band, because we all went to folk clubs — Simon, Richard [Thompson], Martin [Lamble], that just solidified it. I’ll tell you one thing, though: it was a quiet disappointment to all of us that it wasn’t taken up by the media more. We thought the music should become British pop music, like country music turned into country and western. There were a few copyists, a few other groups, but by the mid70s it was obvious that it wasn’t going to be as big as we thought it’d be.
But you did have your pop moment in 1969, with the chart single Si Tu Dois Partir, which was the French language version of your mentor Bob Dylan’s If You Gotta Go, Go Now. What are your memories of doing that on Top Of The Pops?
Yes, we did see the inside of a television studio and a Top Of
The Pops dressing room, for the one and only time. We mimed, definitely, because we all had silly instruments. Actually, we must have been one of the earliest to send it up. Later on, everyone did. It’s very catchy, that song, got played on the radio, that’s what made it a hit. But I don’t think we did it on stage in those days. For so-called serious musicians, it was beside the point, and we didn’t follow it up with anything.
You surprised a lot of people by moving on from Fairport after Liege & Lief, as did Sandy Denny. She started Fotheringay, and you co-formed Steeleye Span. What was in your mind at the time?
That was a strange thing. I think Richard said it very eloquently: we were still suffering from the crash [in which Fairport drummer Martin Lamble was killed in 1969]. The aftermath of it was still affecting us. When I decided to leave Fairport,
I had a breakdown, even before Steeleye got going. No surprise, in retrospect. Also no surprise that Sandy left – in a weird state, she didn’t like flying, but [she] overreacted enormously, fearing death and so forth. It’s a pivotal moment and it wasn’t clear thinking on anyone’s part, but two good groups came out of it. Fotheringay’s a really good group and early Steeleye were unique. Mainly the second album [1971’s Please To See The King], that was the real breakthrough. No drums, but electric instruments. Very proud of all that stuff. It wasn’t very well recorded – we were still getting to grips, some of us, with electric instruments, but that’s my favourite.
Then, after three albums, you were on the move again, but this time to something that would last in many configurations for decades.
Then off, yes, that’s what I do! The Albion Band, of course, was next, it was The Albion Country Band to start with, but for many years, The Albion Band in many forms has allowed me – as the leader of the group and the owner of the name, unlike the other two groups – to do anything. Work in the theatre, words and music shows, go acoustic, become a Christmas band. That’s lovely, that’s like a reunion every year. It’s the same four people every year and we love doing it. If you know nothing about it, you’d probably think, “Oh, they’re just cashing in,” or “That’s going to be pretty boring.” But we’re continually changing the material that we do, like Fairport, and it’s not boring… in fact, I’m quite artistically proud of a lot of the
things we do.
Is it true to say that one of the joys of having influence as an experienced musician is giving a platform to up-and-coming musicians?
Absolutely, it’s one of the great pleasures of my life, the people I know I’ve helped along the way by bringing them into bands and recording with them. Ruth Angell, of course – terribly underrated singer – and, on this album, artists like Becky Mills and Kitty MacFarlane. I don’t feel 73 when I’m in the studio with someone like Kitty, I feel like we’re on the same level.
Yes, we did see the inside of a television
studio and a Top Of The Pops dressing room,
for the one and only time. We mimed,
definitely, because we all had silly instruments.
That’s a tradition that goes all the way back to Sandy Denny.
I’ve been blessed to work with so many, probably about 20, wonderful female singers down the years, and obviously Maddy [Prior] is another one of them. But I have to say, and I hope the others won’t be offended, that Sandy cannot be bettered, will never be bettered probably, in my lifetime. Sandy was just ace, and technically – let alone being Sandy, which was enough – she was able to sing with almost a whisper and move you to tears, but she was able to belt out a rock song. She did rocky things on stage as well. If she was around now? Well, she was already winning awards, wasn’t she? Even in the mid-70s. So, she achieved a lot.
What do you think of the modern-day version of the groups you helped to create?
I haven’t really kept in touch with Steeleye. Obviously they’ve changed out of all recognition, especially the line-up. But Maddy [Prior], she’s still there, and she’s still a great person and a great singer. With Fairport, it’s great that we’ve formed this lifelong friendship, all of us, like a family, which is seen at Cropredy Festival to its best, where we’re at one with the audience and with each other. We never fell apart, like so many bands. It’s developed a lot, the music’s changed. What I think is their best legacy is that they’re continuing to write and record new songs and new albums. Of the survivors, how many groups keep changing and keep playing new material? Fairport is a living, breathing entity.
How do you feel about being cited as an influence on the modern-day progressive scene?
Well, we knew some of the early prog bands, and played the same circuit, but by the early
70s I’d got the folk bug and was married to Shirley Collins and was completely obsessed with traditional folk music, so I missed prog. Some kind of full circle’s gone on here, because a lot of young people like what we can call prog rock from those days. Jim Moray is a particular one that comes to mind, very much influenced by prog even though he’s the darling of the folk scene.
The guiding influence of Bob Dylan manifests itself again on your website, can you describe that?
Yes, I latched into him in the early 60s when his first record came out, so he was always there. When Fairport was formed, we heavily leaned on his songs, but we never knew that Dylan ever listened to us. It was silence, and life went on. Then, when I decided to have my own website, a friend of mine, Nigel Schofield, who writes and broadcasts, had developed a relationship with Dylan’s management. He contacted them and said would Bob like to write something for Ashley to put on his new website. Within two days, he got a reply from Bob to say, “Ashley Hutchings is the single most important figure in English folk rock.” It was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me in my life. Messages would come through Nigel from Bob to me, which prompted me to send him the new album, and he wrote back. I feel like he’s a friend.
How did it feel to be awarded an MBE in 2015?
A few years ago, I got a letter in the post from the English Folk Dance And Song Society saying they were awarding me the Gold Badge award, and I cried, because of how much traditional music and dance have meant to me. Then I got a letter saying I’d been awarded the MBE, and I laughed. I could not stop laughing, which wouldn’t have happened, probably, if I hadn’t had the Gold Badge award, so I kind of got all that emotion out of the way. I was really happy, obviously.
Your son, Blair Dunlop, is carrying on in your tradition, but he has very much his own troubadour voice, doesn’t he?
I’m so proud of him. Not only has he made a living from doing what he wants to do, which is what I wanted to do back in the 60s, but he’s a great guitarist, a great songwriter, right up there with the best, and now he’s a great singer, because his voice has rounded out now. The only thing I’m not happy about is that he’s not more successful.
So with Paradise And Thorns, do you feel you’ve reached a certain conclusion of your own?
I can’t imagine making another album now. I really can’t. The only other thing I’ve been thinking about in the last five years, album-wise, is a football album. Blair comes into this. Tottenham Hotspur is our team. That’s the only thing not ticked off on my recording list, and it should either be a joint thing with Blair, or I’m happy for it to be in his name.
But if this is to be my last album, I’m happy with that.
Paradise and Thorns – Gloucester Docks Revisited And Other Tales of Love is out now via Talking Elephant. See www.ashleyhutchings. co.uk for more information.