Rachel Johnson’s Golden Oldies
I had grand plans for this column. Every month, I’d go to hear a golden oldie bestride the soundstage like a stragglehaired/balding colossus and rock my world. I’d catch the Stones at the London Stadium, Patti Smith in east London, Santana somewhere…
Things, ah, haven’t quite worked out like that. Critics could rightly point out that they could only read about these concerts under the bylines of my colleagues, Will Hodgkinson in the Times or Tim de Lisle in the Mail on Sunday. They can’t get no satisfaction from me.
To which I would say, the gigs gig is an unexpected toughie. You have to find out where the concert is, blag a ticket, travel to the venue, and then stand in a pool of Coors beer for several hours having your eardrums blasted, and then somehow get home in a heatwave with tens of thousands of fellow fans.
Still, when the editor moans that I haven’t been to enough concerts, well... I’ve actually been to quite a few, Harry. Paul Simon. Kate Bush. Queen (plus Adam Lambert). Paul Simon… The problem is, most of the rest have all been of the same band. I’ve seen Police Dog Hogan more than 20 times.
At Cornbury, twice; pubs in Fulham; indeed, a few years ago, I went on a skiing holiday with the band and, in return for bed and board, the band did two sets a night. So, if you add in all those gigs, I might as well be the roadie for these six men over fifty (plus one recently added ‘chick’), who all play different instruments and sing in four-part harmonies, and whose catchiest song is called Shitty White Wine (‘tastes like turpentine’).
The lead singer, James Studholme, is a Devon man. He and the others write songs that combine deep love of the West Country, country music, Americana, Dixie, hard-drinking women and history, shot through with humour and a terrific sense of place and past. Tim Dowling (of the Guardian) is also a PDH stalwart. I even interviewed Studholme about being a late-onset folk-rock star.
‘When we started, we imagined ourselves writing and recording music more or less for ourselves. Playing in front of people wasn’t really in the picture. But it turned out to be the best thing about it,’ he said. ‘When I got given a banjo for my 44th birthday, I had no idea it would lead me down this path. If you’d heard me play it back then, you wouldn’t have either. After nearly 10 years of gigs and festivals, we’re still trying to be better. A lot of people say, “The thing I like about you guys is you don’t take yourselves too seriously”, and I always think, “You have no idea.” ’
Police Dog Hogan are right to take themselves seriously. The last time I was moved to tears, apart from when England lost to Croatia, was listening to their song Devon Brigade – about sons of the West Country dying before their 18th birthdays on the Western Front.
In years to come, I look forward to claiming my share of credit for their inevitable success. I’m not with the band, but I’m definitely behind it.