Jim Cleary, a pioneering 70s Birmingham singer-songwriter and promoter, passed away on the 10th April 2012. This post covers the day, in late 2011, that Jim came back to town, and found a room full of love.
This video clip is from a concert/gathering /celebration in October 2011. I've been messing around with the clip to set up this blog for a couple of days, and now I can't stop singing the song. If you are of a certain vintage, or familiar with some of the great Birmingham players who emerged in the 70s, this will all make sense immediately; you’ll recognise the faces and some of the names. If not, I’d love you to read on. It’s a great story.
Jim Cleary was the man in the middle. The event was his tribute night. As guest of honour, he had a string of different and stellar musicians perform his songs, before taking to the stage to close the event out. The evening was organised by friends and colleagues, of whom more later. It took place at a tiny venue: The Tower Of Song, in King’s Norton, Birmingham. What’s really important was the how and why of it all.
Let’s roll back 40 years. In 1972, the role of the singer-songwriter was becoming restricted. After that rush of amazing late 60s talent (Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, Sandy Denny, Harvey Andrews, Clifford T Ward, Pete Atkin, Arlo Guthrie… I could go on) the record companies gorged themselves by signing up anyone and everyone they thought they could market. Hey, why stop at James Taylor when you could sign his three brothers and his sister as well? This led to a glut of, frankly, substandard albums that didn’t do anyone any favours. Of course, the record companies, having messed things up, backed off as usual, focussing instead on other, mainly rock-based, areas, and leaving a lot of dashed hopes behind in their wake.
It’s fascinating to look back at this period from our 21st century viewpoint: so much has changed. The record companies’ influence has shrunk, and we have seen a much wider acceptance of varied performance styles. This is both creative and healthy. Back then, though, artists like Jim Cleary, passed over by the mainstream record industry, faced a closing of the ranks on the folk scene as well. There was a distinctly chilly view in many folk circles about anyone who stepped outside the boundaries. Folk-Rock was completely beyond the pale.
Jim was a singer-songwriter. Back then, a lot of new music was emerging in town, not least from Jim himself, but it didn’t fit any of the fashionable niches. It wasn’t noisy enough for rock, nor acceptable to purist ears at the major folk clubs. His solution was to start a new venue, Big Ears, based at the Fighting Cocks in Moseley, where those musicians who were shut out from mainstream rock and folk could perform.
Big Ears punched above its weight. It was a pioneering venue, and it gave a broad platform to a host of fine bands and great musicians. Jim reeled out some fantastic material during that time. He recorded, with a range of different musicians; deals were signed; but sadly, nothing emerged. Big Ears ran for about five years – I remember talking up Big Ears gigs in my early days as a radio jock – before Jim moved on for work and personal reasons.
Now let’s come back up to last year. Vo Fletcher and Catherine Howe run a regular night at the Tower of Song. In attendance, one late 2011 summer evening were Andrew Morton, of Slender Loris fame, and John Mostyn from Highbury Studio. All of them had worked and performed with Jim. Between them, they hatched up the plan to bring their much missed colleague back up to Birmingham from Kent for a closed-doors evening to celebrate his music. Old pals signed up immediately, and once word got out, the night sold out at speed. Plans to record and video the event were added; an excerpt from these activities is the video clip at the top of this post. If you watch the full video, and take in the banter and affection as well as some sterling performances, you’ll get an idea of how much it meant to everybody who attended.
It’s about recognition and approbation. So much creative work echoes out into the void, and we have no idea if it strikes a chord. But, and this is the central point to this post, it seems to me that if an idea strikes a spark somewhere, that spark can live on, for decades... for a lifetime. Almost daily, I find myself thinking of some of the amazing music I’ve been privileged to experience down the years, and my thoughts often turn to those musicians whose work changed my life. That’s still going on now, I am glad to say. But I wonder how often those wonderful musicians of my youth get to be recognised and celebrated in the way Jim Cleary was, last October? This was a fantastic, princely gesture from a group of musicians and music professionals, made to a much respected and loved colleague.
One of the most important parts of the music-making process is the relationship between the performer and his audience. Everything else revolves around that. Promoters deal with that reality, DJs and journalists feed off it, the radio industry feverishly tries to research it down to the nth degree, and completely misses the point by slicing and dicing far too precisely. But this event understood and respected that precious relationship. Congratulations are due to all concerned.
There had been plans, now, sadly, shelved, to repeat the exercise in the spring.
Links
Copies of the CD and DVD of the evening can be had from John Mostyn at john.mostyn@gmail.com.
Kris Halpin engineered the night. Here are his thoughts.
It’s fascinating to look back at this period from our 21st century viewpoint: so much has changed. The record companies’ influence has shrunk, and we have seen a much wider acceptance of varied performance styles. This is both creative and healthy. Back then, though, artists like Jim Cleary, passed over by the mainstream record industry, faced a closing of the ranks on the folk scene as well. There was a distinctly chilly view in many folk circles about anyone who stepped outside the boundaries. Folk-Rock was completely beyond the pale.
Jim was a singer-songwriter. Back then, a lot of new music was emerging in town, not least from Jim himself, but it didn’t fit any of the fashionable niches. It wasn’t noisy enough for rock, nor acceptable to purist ears at the major folk clubs. His solution was to start a new venue, Big Ears, based at the Fighting Cocks in Moseley, where those musicians who were shut out from mainstream rock and folk could perform.
Big Ears punched above its weight. It was a pioneering venue, and it gave a broad platform to a host of fine bands and great musicians. Jim reeled out some fantastic material during that time. He recorded, with a range of different musicians; deals were signed; but sadly, nothing emerged. Big Ears ran for about five years – I remember talking up Big Ears gigs in my early days as a radio jock – before Jim moved on for work and personal reasons.
Now let’s come back up to last year. Vo Fletcher and Catherine Howe run a regular night at the Tower of Song. In attendance, one late 2011 summer evening were Andrew Morton, of Slender Loris fame, and John Mostyn from Highbury Studio. All of them had worked and performed with Jim. Between them, they hatched up the plan to bring their much missed colleague back up to Birmingham from Kent for a closed-doors evening to celebrate his music. Old pals signed up immediately, and once word got out, the night sold out at speed. Plans to record and video the event were added; an excerpt from these activities is the video clip at the top of this post. If you watch the full video, and take in the banter and affection as well as some sterling performances, you’ll get an idea of how much it meant to everybody who attended.
It’s about recognition and approbation. So much creative work echoes out into the void, and we have no idea if it strikes a chord. But, and this is the central point to this post, it seems to me that if an idea strikes a spark somewhere, that spark can live on, for decades... for a lifetime. Almost daily, I find myself thinking of some of the amazing music I’ve been privileged to experience down the years, and my thoughts often turn to those musicians whose work changed my life. That’s still going on now, I am glad to say. But I wonder how often those wonderful musicians of my youth get to be recognised and celebrated in the way Jim Cleary was, last October? This was a fantastic, princely gesture from a group of musicians and music professionals, made to a much respected and loved colleague.
One of the most important parts of the music-making process is the relationship between the performer and his audience. Everything else revolves around that. Promoters deal with that reality, DJs and journalists feed off it, the radio industry feverishly tries to research it down to the nth degree, and completely misses the point by slicing and dicing far too precisely. But this event understood and respected that precious relationship. Congratulations are due to all concerned.
There had been plans, now, sadly, shelved, to repeat the exercise in the spring.
Links
Copies of the CD and DVD of the evening can be had from John Mostyn at john.mostyn@gmail.com.
Kris Halpin engineered the night. Here are his thoughts.
Other blog posts on people we have lost here
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