DIARY 10/05/10
Death has preoccupied my mind somewhat of late. My two friends were far too young to have suffered that way and to be taken. And the deeply emotional tasks the relatives face once such important people have gone, this has plagued me. It’s hard for those of us hurt by the loss. You want to help, but you’re not there, you’re not involved. You’re not family. You feel their terrible suffering and want to console them, but you’re not there. They must move in a sort of purgatory, a middle land where reality is blurred. I had a call today from a very good mate, but again one I go a year or more without actually seeing. No lunch. No dinner. No bottles and tales, nor late confessions. But we love each other as close friends do. And I know it, and hope he knows it. His call came soon after he’d read my on-line diary. There are those you should keep in touch with. Stop putting it off. Manana, manana.......today! Do it today, I am telling myself. You drift, but true friends know this happens and do not take it personally. But I don’t want to drift too far from the few really good, important friends I’ve made and kept. I determine to make more effort.
Johnny Walker is an old friend. We dined together and shared bottles and tales as far back as 1975. He calls me his friend on-air. Chatted with Johnny last week for his Sounds Of The Seventies, for Sunday, May 30th. Great joy. And Steve Wright. Went to school with Nigel, one of my younger brothers and came daily to our flat for tea with Nigel and my mum. I was there sometimes, and the memory is unforgettable, even if only because Steve keeps mentioning the connection on air! Fine by me. These are friends, people who care and are truthful, not hypocrites. Hypocrites abound in the music industry, rather as they do in politics. One dim-witted egotist who tore my persona to shreds, as well as my new music, in a music monthly magazine, actually worked for me for some months some years ago. He was happy to take the Harley shilling then, when he was a struggling publicist. If I’d known then what he thought of me, would he have got the job? Like hell. But he knew that. I gave up a career in journalism when I realised I didn’t actually enjoy hurting people. These guys must be totally devoid of a conscience. He called “This Old Man” dreary – has he got a dad? Does he love him? He’s got kids. Does he love them, or is he too self-important? I realise “Stranger Comes To Town” is not the easiest of collections to understand on first hearing. I wouldn’t want it to be. I believe it will reward those who look far enough, and long enough, into it. Hey, you can even dance to some tracks!
The Billy Sloan session for Radio Clyde was a gas. The freedom to talk, and the freedom to play make Billy’s show old-time radio; radio of the time when presenters picked the tracks, the interviews and let it roll. I tune in most Sunday nights on the internet to Clyde1 to hear Billy’s banter and news. Playing for him and his world-wide audience was, well, a gas.
And now the rehearsals loom. Death has preoccupied my mind somewhat of late. But I have a job to do. And a Chat room to prepare for. Next Sunday. Get in there. Ask. I am no politician. I will answer you. Straight.
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written by Stella Day , May 11, 2010
This Old Man ....dreary? It's my second favourite on the album. (Stranger...being my favourite)
You have in this Diary entry pricked my conscience. I've lost touch with so many friends and my Dad....well, poor old Dad needs a visit. Thanks Steve.
written by Drew McAdam , May 11, 2010
The recent loss of two childhood friends hit me hard. And the impending loss of my childhood sweetheart is playing on my mind; but it inspires me to live part of their lives through mine. I owe them that.
And as for This Old Man being "dreary"? What a halfwit. I feel insulted by that comment because it's a song that comes back to haunt me these days every time I see a fella who is the age my father would have been by now. And I just KNOW he would have a tale or two to hold me. Maybe I'M dreary. That would explain it!
Or maybe, just maybe, there are some people out there who will simply never “get it”. Their loss.
written by Craig , May 11, 2010
Mid 50s, realise now how close you got to stick with family and old friends. Very touching diary Steve.
written by Janine , May 11, 2010
Thank you for sharing. You are so right! Help can also mean merely sending a card to show your sympathy; this diary. A phone call even if you feel you have nothing to say. But you know.
Your songs! They have been a comfort to me during hard times. Thanx
written by Janine , May 11, 2010
.. and let go of the hypocrites - forgive. Don't let them touch you.
written by Mark Trowsdale , May 12, 2010
losing a friend or loved one is soul destroying and character building at the same time, nevertheless we all need time to grieve in our own way. it is a form of tribute, a tip of the hat, I still grieve for my cousin Henry gone 30 years now, he got me into some band called Cockney Rebel a while back. Legacy or what! I would give the earth to have just one minute to tell my father how proud i feel to be called his son. Gone for kleenex, bye.
written by Andrew Gardner , May 13, 2010
I lost my mother just after new year.. Suddenly the generations have jumped, and I'm now the head of my family with the children and grandchildren... I took my mum to see Steve play at the Pavillion Theatre in Glasgow 20 years ago.. She adored it.. The new album is beautiful.. Much needed and eagerly absorbed at this tender point in my life.
written by John Leadley , May 18, 2010
I lost my Dad (my best friend) to small cell lung cancer on Aug 4th last year. Some 16 years after giving up smoking lung cancer killed him in 9 weeks. One minute we were planning a three generation family seaside holiday in Devon, a joint 25th/50th Weddding Anniverary party, and a Cricket Club 60th Anniversary Dinner Dance at the Oval. The next thing we were arranging his funeral. The pain continues every day for all of us but that is the price you pay for love. None of us would trade any of the time we spent together for a reduction in the pain we feel every day. He was worth it - and more!
Unlike Mark T, we did get the chance to say how proud we were to be his and how much we loved him. Thankfully we had said it every time we saw him for the 20 years before his death. What I am trying to say is do it today, not tomorrow, or the next time you see them, you can never be certain there will be another time. Thats it. Like Mark T, I'm off for the Kleenex now. See you at Brighton and Shepherds Bush Steve. "A Fathers Promise" will have my wife Lesley and my mate Glyn (each lost their father recently) and I in tears at Shepherds Bush, but dont let it stop you - its therapy!
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