KEVIN COYNE WARTS AND ALL 2

Kevin Coyne: Warts and all… – The Oral History – Pascal Regis

PART 2

'Beautiful Extremes' (1974–1978)

"The world is full of poets walking about in gags"

Another famous record and a favourite of many fans, although never reissued on CD. Everyone has their own favourite track: it's a cult album. Completists be advised, 'Beautiful Extremes 74-77' was released in 1977, while ''Beautiful Extremes etcetera' came out in a different cover and with two different songs in 1983. Maybe one day Virgin will wake up and re-release these gems.
An acoustic Coyne album is a rarely offered pleasure, and 'Beautiful Extremes' is one of the most successful examples. Recorded alongside the 'official' albums, the pieces here are either fine jewels ('So Strange', 'Poor Little Actress') or uncut diamonds ('Mona', where Kevin cries endlessly, 'Mona, where's my trousers?' in the left speaker, and relives a painful childhood memory in the other).

This is pure art-rock, as well as the realm of the short story, such as Kevin would begin to publish in the 90s. If you had to gauge the talent of the man by listening to only one album, perhaps this would be the one to seek out.

"He's too concerned with rejecting the obvious and easy platitude, too intent on categorising the tragedy inherent in everyone's lives to settle for peddling the balm of dishonest reassurance – that's why he wins out over the jerks who can't see past their pop psychology obsession with their own neuroses. After a career with Virgin dominated by records with bands assembled round him, this Belgium import composed of 'out-takes' (he should be so lucky to have out-takes like this) is Kevin Coyne almost alone, supported by at most a couple of guitars, a piano and the eerie backing tapes he uses live. The central song on this album is certainly 'All the Battered babies'. When I first heard it, I was surprised and disappointed by the way Coyne seemed to reject his normal use of personae in favour of a rather simplistically earnest first person social workerish plea: 'All the battered babies/Won't you please stop beating your children'. Then Coyne himself pointed out that he'd actually know people who were looking for their mothers in cinemas (one of the lines in the song), that we're all battered babies. Seen like that, it ceases to be a public service ad which could run after a 'Don't drink and drive' warning and becomes a triumphant, worrying use of metaphor on the grand scale. All in all, an album of rare beauty(yes, beauty) and chilling power. Who else but Our Kev (John Peel's phrase) is brave enough to face the terror of his own fiendish paradox 'Hello happiness, goodbye truth'?" (Pete Silverton, 1977)

'Beaufitul Extremes' is a fascinating and sobering reflection on Kevin Coyne's life and work, the extremes are often less than beautiful, always agonised, and generally extremely moving." (Soundmaker)

'So Strange'

Success/Business

"Bollocks to devious record companies"

John Peel: "The reason that Kevin doesn't make it, with the current vogue for reality in rock, is the difference between people disemboweling themselves in front of you and someone crying." (Liquorice, 1978)

Kevin Coyne: "The language and mythology of rock and roll has never seemed that important to me. I was more concerned with people like Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, and reading that kind of poetry; you set yourself a very high literary standard. The reality which they are able to convey has much more of an impact than the reality of rock." (1976)

"I’m not an optimist myself, I’m a miserable depressive sort of person, probably because of the work I do – not seeing the best side of human nature all the time. The future is very hard to predict, but I’m very grateful that I’ve been able to get something down on record, after all these years of, in a sense, performing in front of a mirror with a Hoover handle for a microphone. I’m still really overwhelmed with gratitude, and I don’t want to be offensive about Dandelion, because tomorrow I’d regret it. It’s fair to say that there is some doubt about Siren’s future, but it could be like Bo Diddley’s 'My Story'; you know, a man with a big cigar and a Cadillac with four headlights – sign on the dotted line and I’ll make you a star." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"Once you start counting the audience, this is a problem. You should never do that. Unless there's only two, this is nothing to worry. I know that too." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

"It’s tragic. It’s not easy when you’ve done a few Walsalls and Stoke-on-Trents to keep on doing it. You just feel like it’s just a struggle all the time, as if you’re single handedly having to convert everybody, because the media doesn’t give you the kind of support they give to – say – the Bay City Rollers. Yet in the same breath I’d say I don’t really want that…" (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"These days I think it’s a blessing I never had the kind of success like the Rolling Stones, because I think to some extent I’m viewed as a living viable entity and not a has-been by most people. And I think that’s one of the bonus things about not having that vast fame that people like the Stones had." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"I never really wanted to be Rod Stewart or Bob Dylan. As time goes by, interest in my singing will probably increase, but I'm not all concerned about it, because I'm a painter too." (Record Collector, July2002)

"The oddness and madness is the art, so bollocks to devious record companies and their stupid ideas." (August 2003 email to Nigel Burch)

"I find the pompous drivel currently serving in popular music unbelievable. The world needs an honest neo George Fornby." (Letter to Nigel Burch, 1985)

"I got to feel a bit like Joe Cocker. I was getting to feel a bit mindless." (New Musical Express, February 3, 1979)

"I'm not really looking to do the next something, I'm me. And that's enough. But some people still have this misguided notion that you want to be like Mick Jagger, or whatever it is. Or you're copying the Smashing Pumpkins – 'You must have heard them.' They forget how long you've been around." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

[Sandy Denny and Fairport Convention] "I just don't like that kind of… she's got a beautiful voice, there's no doubt about that but there is something about the whole… I don't know, why don't they sing about today? They sing in a language which seems borrowed from almost the Middle Ages on a case. I like that freshness about what I did today: 'What's that in the garden? Somebody insulted me in the pub, I want to sing about it'. I don't want to hear about Lady Fontleroy's trousers, you know. I'm just not a big fan of that." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

Robert Lloyd: "Through the years Kevin has regularly come up with the goods. The goods, in my ears, involve no barriers in musical styles and they certainly make use of words. The goods are not afraid of madness but also embrace diligence and care. Ideally, they can bulk as well as craft, laugh as well as cry and, essentially, they have to inspire and provoke thought. It they can take chance whilst remaining true to their conscience, the goods shine bright." (Liner notes to the 1990 CD reissues)

Kevin Coyne: "The thing that hurts most of all is when people say 'He’s a lunatic' or something – they don’t know me. It’s just they don’t fucking understand. I feel like going round their houses and spying on them. Seeing how they behave – watch them doing a little dance in the living room when nobody’s looking, watch them talking to themselves in the bathroom. Observe these every things, because a lot of what I put on record is exactly that kind of observation." (Liquorice, 19762002)

"Once you begin to see yourself as an artist, when people tell you you are and write letters and come to see you and believe in you and get something from what do you, it’s not only good for the ego, it makes you think there’s something up there that you should use. If you don’t use it, you’re wasting yourself." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I still suffer from dark moments, but what pleases me most is when someone comes up to me and tells me that a song off say 'Marjory Razorblade' or 'Bursting Bubbles' has helped them. In the long run I think that is partly why most people will come back to me as a performer. I've never romanticised depression and at the same time I don't take myself too seriously. I am a bit of a one-off." (Mojo, June 1999)

"The whole business. It was something I’d avoided doing for so long, for so many reasons, but I’ve done it and I’m still doing it. It’s growing all the time, getting fuller, and in a curious kind of way it’s given me more freedom…

I realised long ago that if you’ve really got something to say then you can’t just swoop in and do it. It’s only easy if you’re not prepared to look at yourself and what you’re doing and admit it when you’re not owning up or when you’re not improving. I can’t write words that are daft… I could do a nice rocker maybe. I think I put out good singles anyway, commercial singles, and I can’t really see why they don’t get played more. Well, I can, I suppose. I can see that some of them aren’t exactly BBC 1 or Radio 1 or whatever it’s called." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"Optimistic? Yes I am very optimistic. If I died tomorrow I would feel I'd done something. And that's rather a nice feeling." (New Musical Express, February 3, 1979)

Robert Coyne: "There are a lot of things I miss about Dad, his fantastic sense of humour and feel for the absurd, and an inability, or refusal, to take anything too seriously – particularly himself. It was a special kind of humility, and absolutely fundamental to the enduring quality of his work, I think. It was also wonderful, and instructive, to be around. Dad was a real artist, and there was no separation between his music and the rest of his life. On stage, he loved to entertain and to put on a show, but there was never anything false about it. He was exactly the same in every other setting – just as spontaneous and entertaining, and just as intense." (2008)

Kevin Coyne: "If I play my music to a sixty five year old man it's not pop, it's not folk, it's me, and that's what I think song-writing's all about, a statement of an individual using elements of the popular culture of time. When I used synths on my last album it wasn't done to be contemporary, I just wanted it to be a slab of what it is. I wouldn't recommend many of my songs for a party. It seems like when I do rock and roll there's a quality in my voice that doesn't quite ring true. I think I have a sense of tragedy or of something waiting around the corner, an awareness of death that some people have to a higher or lower degree. Much of the time I have it at a higher degree." (Soundmaker, Feb 26 1983)

Steve Bull: "We stayed in the same hotel as Simple Minds. They were very young then and had just recorded the brilliant 'New gold Dream' album. I remember they admired Kevin, he asked them how much they were being paid by the record company – '£150 a week' said Jim Kerr proudly. 'The same as a well paid dustman' replied Kevin. The Simple Minds crew had a laugh about that one!!" (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2003)

Sting: "He strips it all down; he makes himself naked. I have to get drunk to take it." (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

David Thomas: "I've always love Kevin's music. I've seen him twice in his solo show and he's just utterly magnificent. He's maintained integrity and a high level of art for decades." (1999)

Barry Melton: "Kevin Coyne. A genius! And, if memory serves me, a drinking man with an enormous appetite for song - some 30 years it's been since I raised a glass with him. Kevin had a one-man show back then, musical tapes and Kevin live... very, very (a)live. 1973 to 1977, I was splitting my time between London and San Francisco. Kevin was one of my drinking buddies." (Conversation with Pascal Regis, 2006)

Michel Besset: "We became very close, although we only met a couple of times. The kind of relation I only had, as a promoter, with some artists, like Ferré… […] He drank a lot at that time [1976-77]. And he could be really mean then… There was this concert in Toulouse, France. He was pissed off with everybody. He arrived late on stage, left after three songs, leaving the musicians alone. I went backstage to see what the problem was and he was drinking loads of beer. He went back, insulting the audience… […] After the show he told me "They're all jerks, let's go drinking". We drank all night, he spent all his fee on wine. We took a taxi at 8am. […] He was an alcoolic. And that show in Toulouse was not good. The good thing was spending that night drinking with him! Something happened that night. That's why I was a DIY promoter at that time: to meet free people. To do something different: I was a miner at that time. I needed some fresh air. I even called my son Kevin later!" (Interview with Pascal Regis, October 2011)

Kevin Coyne: "I would have predicted it [Andy Summers' fame with The Police]. He was very into being a star, you know. We were all part of the ladder to success. I like Andy very much, by the way, I stay in touch with him vaguely. So I would say he deserved it. He was into that sort of thing and he got it, you know. He wasn’t an underground sort of type. He was into success, big success." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"I can remember Police coming in rehearsal rooms near to where I was rehearsing, and all of us laughing, because we thought, this is Andy's last shot to make something. And they all looked rather old to be, I suppose, punks. They didn't look like punks at all anyway." (Interview by Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"I always aimed for that anyway, from the day when I walked in a recording studio, was to be as close to the way I feel and the way the performances are, and I was endlessly bogged down with fucking producers. Big record companies, they always bring in guys who are supposed to be good, you know. Most of them, apart from Steve Verroca on 'Marjory Razorblade' who basically was Link Wray's producer among other things. And he had good ideas. Link is a bit low-fi anyway so he had some ideas but most of them they didn't have a fucking clue. These guys from Atlantic Records, all sort of people, oh, you'd be surprised. Even Nick Mason from the Pink Floyd, he wanted to do… I really refused to." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

"Wherever you go you feel a bit special – you’re bound to when everyone else is working nine-to-five and you’re driving home at four in the morning, hearing the chink of other people’s alarm clocks going off. More and more you find yourself pointing out of a window and saying 'Look, real life'. And your work is their big night out." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I didn't want to just teach art. I wanted to do it in a more varied kind of way, starting off by doing a kind of art therapy and then generalising more and becoming more involved with individuals, you know. It was a great wave of experience for me. Served me very well. Kept my head above water and the music business bit anyway. Having seen the depths and having been closer to the depths myself, you can go on a tour like this and survive." (NME, 27 March 1976)

"I’ve never liked playing to the Saturday night student gig. Because I don’t think what I do as a performer necessarily belongs there. I can get ‘em boogeying but as you get older that gets tiresome to resort to as a crowd pleaser." (Liquorice, 1976)

"I think it's getting very, very strong here in Europe. I haven't played in Britain for such a long time, you know. The last couple of gigs were great but that was a long time ago. I don't want to question British audiences' ability to listen too heavily, because I've got a lot of good friends who do listen… who are very concerned, you know." (NME, 27 March 1976)

"The greatest tribute is when somebody comes up after a gig and says, well I could do that. I say well, fucking carry on and do it. You’ll feel a lot better for it." (1979)

John Lydon: "I loved Kevin Coyne. He was hilarious good fun. He'd absolutly cheer you up. Just proper drinking music. And being somewhat underage, it was brillant. A bloke like Kevin Coyne, you could rely on him. If you couldn't go in, you could go around the back and say to someone: 'Tell Kevin there's some youngsters', and he'd come and get you in. That kind of friendliness, that community. That vibe's very important." (Uncut, Nov 2012)

"'Marjory Razorblade' came out as a single album in the States, as did 'In Living Black and White', which rather chopped the thing in half and put away a lot of the energy and the point of it all. I think Jac Holzman somewhere along the line, somebody like him, said 'He's too English' or something for the American market. I think these are all clichés developed to support the commercial aspect of the music business. They make up these rules, which they change periodically. Sometimes it's good to be English, sometimes it's not good to be English, etc. But it's a very sort of vacuous thing to say. I drift further and further away from the mainstream, if I was ever in it, really." (Interview by Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"There are a lot of mavericks about, people who refuse to be controlled by the business. They’re all going to come through… We’ll just have to steam in and sort a few people out. Do a bit of damage. Inject a bit of reality and humanity into music. We’ll make it… I’m quite prepared to take on the whole world."

Karl Bruckmaier: “No one before or after him transformed the American blues tradition into UK presence better than Kevin Coyne did.” (Radio Show, May 2010)

Vic Chesnutt: "He was the best songwriter!" (Conversation with Pascal Regis, 2007)

'Dynamite Days' (1978)

"I'm not a millionaire and my patience is thin"

'Dynamite Daze' is a tremendous album. Coyne burnt his bridges and changed direction radically. The success that was emerging with 'In Living Black And White' eluded him with this album, which rejected any easy options and challenged anything that moved.

It was recorded in a tiny London studio (Coyne didn't believe in studio tricks and overdubs, and prefered to improvise as fast as possible and waste as little money as possible, so as to keep the rest for himself and his family).
The musicians who accompany him here – soon to be McCartney pianist Paul Wickens, for example – were all flabbergasted to hear him completely change a song's lyrics from one take to the next. 'I never write lyrics down.'
Each side of the record opens with a jubilant, aggressive boogie ('Dynamite Days' and 'Amsterdam'), passing onto moving and unnerving ballads ('Lunatic', 'I Only Want to See You Smile', 'Are We Dreaming').
The production is intimate and concentrated compared to earlier albums, with no guitar solos. The arrival of guitarist Bob Ward, doubling as producer, changed the set-up. He would stay with Kevin for several years.
Lyrically, things were a little more worrying. 'Brothers Of Mine' ('Workers of the world unite and put the poor boy down') and 'I Really Live Round Here' ('You're laughing at my wife...' 'My children are scared') revealed depths of paranoia no longer concealed by artistic or clinical detachment. Coyne was beginning to stumble.

'Dynamite Daze' was also a rare example of a '70s artist gleefully welcoming the punk explosion of '76-77. Delighted by the trouble-making Sex Pistols, Coyne hoped naively that their healthy slap in the face of showbusiness was about to change it.

The album was reissued in 2010 as download only with lots of bonus tracks.

Kevin Coyne: "I needed to communicate more directly to people. I needed a greater freedom and the last band was so good I don't think we could do very much more." (France Culture, 1977)

"I did play with a band for years, three or four versions of the 'Kevin Coyne band'. It was a period I went through, now I would prefer to work with particular musicians who I get to know. I like light weight – not superficially light weight – but I like light weight set ups on stage. Although it's always great to sing with a well-organised rocking band and I still do that, I still go to pubs around where I live, and I can never resist to a fully fledged boogie band." (Radio London, 1978)

Bob Ward: "The band were charging away and he came running on the stage with his head down and went straight across the stage and off the other side. What the?! And everybody… it was just such a great entrance. Didn’t look at the audience. Whoosh. And he’d take a regular wooden chair, with slats, and he’d put it on his head so he’s looking through bars. And suddenly, you’ve got a bit of performance art on stage. They’re playing rock'n'roll - there’s Kevin, in prison. And the audience would go mad." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Paul Wickens: "There would be lovely moments, like seeing him sing 'Saviour' with a drum machine, and I would be able to stand at the side of the stage and see the interaction between him and the crowd, and that was very powerful for me, because that’s only a voice and a drum machine, there’s no other pyrotechnics, big show stuff, guitars, anybody else. It’s about as simple as it gets, and he would hold an audience right there and they would be wanting to be held. It was brilliant to watch." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Zoot Money: "There’s lots of people I know – very fine players – who wouldn’t want to work like that, because it frightened them – the freedom frightened them. You had to be tuned into him and what he was trying to put over, the mood he was trying to put over, mood more than the notes, and be ready to change mid-song, mid-sentence sometimes, from being very sweet to being cutting, acerbic, or whatever you want to call it. Some of them would say the experience really was eye-opening but, in some cases it frightened them and they didn’t really want to go back that way, they would rather go to something organised." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "I'm developing the tapes into something which has limitless potential. That's very exciting. It's injected new into me. It's made me look forward to and enjoy performing again.

I try wherever I go to relate to what's going on through the local papers –who's the local pop star, who's the local target. When I was playing in Ireland, I did some special things. I taped a hymn, played a bit of mini-Moog, put the two together, then adopted papal stances. In Dublin, I shouted out the names of the Concentration Camps, Ravensburg, Buchenwald. And the audience naturally threw in the names of the internment camps. Because it is real, they are going to put you away if you don't do what you're told in this world. Once you can recognise what's happening, then people can unify against the forces that would put you away." (1977)

Zoot Money: "There's always something frightening about Kevin and about working with him. Which I liked! I loved it! I still do. If there's no danger, nothing's really hapening." (1998 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Bob Ward: "Kevin never did demos. He would just perform. And everything was 'That’s the take'. He wouldn’t like two takes of something. He’d always want to go over it. Classic Kevin is: this is it, that’s it – go through it, mistakes and all. There’s broken guitar strings on some of those takes." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "I like Johnny Rotten's approach. I think I've been doing it all my life anyway. So what the fuck. His pain's right on view. But it all smells a bit of money now. I hope he reads a bit, realises he's not alone. Otherwise, it's total isolation.

I've got tremendous confidence in myself. I have no doubts about my ability to communicate. If I played my cards right, I'd be a gift to the the media – chat shows, the lot. I think I'll probably get that with the new album. I live in hope as they say. I think I'll be remembered in 100 years time. I wanna come up second time or tenth time round or whatever." (Sounds, January 21, 1978)

"Punk didn’t really teach me anything. It was just a confirmation of my principles, really. I’ve got a few punk records, and somebody was playing a whole string of them the other day, and to me they all sounded like me!

It’s their lack of concern for the guitar, the way they get inside the bloody thing and give it a bloody hammering… I'm into that. Always have been. I could totally identify with the punk thing. Rage and anger, fair enough, but also telling someone that you are articulate, that you do think, that you don't walk around like a zombie, that you don't accept the endless stream of media nonsense, that you are aware of what the Daily Mirror is up to, and you are aware that where you live isn't right and could be better.

For me, Johnny Rotten or John Lydon is the most exciting thing since Little Richard. I'm glad he's had such an influence on people because it's really a questioning thing all the time… Saying this won't DO!" (New Musical Express, April 15, 1978)

Zoot Money: "We were quite hard put to get the albums done in a certain amount of time because he had a manager/guitarist at the time [Bob Ward] who was intent on getting it done as quickly and as cheaply as possible. But then, in those days Virgin didn't actually spend out a lot of money. They paid up when we gave them a hard time with it, but for the most part Virgin made its initial success through doing work with people who just wanted to record. It was like they were doing us a favour. We were saying 'No, it's got to be done properly if we're going to do it with you…' And here am I playing in a kitchen (laughs) and Richard Branson is running the world – so you judge for yourself: who made the best decisions?" (1998 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Kevin Coyne: 'Brothers of mine': "That's an answer to Johnny Rotten – 'don't tell me about age… I understand what reality is too… seen it all, seen it all before, get a hold of it.' That goes into 'Brothers of mine' which is in a way an attempt to mirror some of my pain, singing to the proletariat if you like, about them and about our problems, and seeing their brainwashed totally disinterested attitude to the things that I said are getting increasingly better all the time." (Liquorice, 1978)

'I am': "That's a poem by John Clare, a 19th century rural poet. A man who ended his days in a Northampton country asylum. The most powerful work he did was when he was incarcerated. I know some of his feelings for that. I can understand what happens, because, in a sense, it's happened to me in many ways… I can think of no other way really of encapsulating that feeling about 'self'. That is my theory, 'I am yet what I am'. At the darkest moment who cares or knows, I am the self consumer, you have to eat your own pain really, because there's no-one else. Also, if you've an awareness of pain, in yourself, your awareness of other people's pain, for me, is as acute as that." (Liquorice, 1978)

"When I recorded 'Juliet and Mark', I was feeling unusually optimistic. Knowing anyway that in the end you've got to let the curtains fall down and let the light shine in 'cos otherwise… that's if you want to carry on living with some optimism. 'Cos basically the album's optimistic regardless of the tone of maybe terror or anxiety in it. You've got to remember that most of the songs are done very spontaneously and on the spur of the moment. It follows through my feeling that I'm just an… eh… organ for whatever's out there. Sometimes it just seems to work that way. I find that with drawings too. Images just seem to come, which goes back to, say, William Blake, who very much held to that theory, he had a vision. Because it has to be a vision, a song like 'Are we dreaming' or 'House on the Hill', because those images are just poured out." (Liquorice, 1978)

"'I'm not a millionaire and my patience is clear' that's what I sing… that's addressed to people in pubs who say 'you're doing all right, I heard you on the radio', their attitude, they're distanced from you because they think you're wealthy which is often not the truth – I'm not starving by any means but I'm not in the category that they imagine. And it separates me from them, spoils a possible friendship. People are incredibly stupid when it comes to making records." (Liquorice, 1978)

'Are we Dreaming': "That's just a sort of… hymn, if you like – all those images of the large hospital with the bowling greens, the little lake with the bower… am I in a dream? Me, sitting there in silence, isolation, that's all really." (Liquorice, 1978)

"I like Amsterdam sometimes but that [song] is a reflection of my worse and most desperate feelings about the place." (France Culture, 1977)

"I'm now 60, sick and short of money. Old age? I'm tempted to say it sucks, but I won't. Life has far too much to recommend for me to be too negative. 'Are we Dreaming' is a dream that could come true." (." Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004, published in Mental Health magazine)

'Amsterdam'

'Millionaires and Teddy Bears' (1978)

"The world is full of fools but it does not make me a bad person"

No more photos, here come the paintings. Coyne, forever a painter, illustrated all his album covers from here on. Painting had always been a second form of expression for him but would become especially important in the '90s, with his first exhibitions in Germany.

'Millionaires And Teddy Bears' was the logical follow-up to 'Dynamite Daze': the same sound, same atmosphere, and same musicians.

'Having A Party' is a head-on attack against showbiz and the record companies, where Coyne dreams he's trapped in a hall full of golden discs and someone asks 'Which one is yours?' – he has to confess that he 'hasn't got a single one at all'. In concert, the chorus of 'Spot the millionaires' usually became 'Fuck the millionaires'...

'Millionaires And Teddy Bears' was to have been called 'Women'. The album is effectively full of songs dedicated to women. Battered women, exploited women, a woman who dreams of baking a beautiful cake to throw at her husband, who responds, 'Marigold, you're dreaming...'.

Kevin Coyne: "It sold amazingly well. It sold 30,000 copies here… Bob Ward contributed a good deal to all of it, particularly these two albums. It shouldn't be under-estimated his contribution." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

There's a track called 'The World is full of Fools' and someone said to me that I'm too soft, that there are some really bad and evil people. They're not just fools, they're very evil. What about Hitler? He wasn't just a fool. In a sense, obviously, I agree with that, but when you get to know people individually there's always some redeeming factor that draws a compassion in me. Sometimes it's very hard work believing in people. They often let you down. But I persist." (." New Musical Express, April 15, 1978)

Angus MacKinnon: "After Kevin Coyne, everything else is just toothpaste". NME

Kevin Coyne: I nearly had a hit in England, record of the week [with 'I'll go too']. Everybody in the street would go: 'Little white hands in the atomic night'. It's like a hymn for the future. They like the beat, funny you know." (De Lanteren, 1979)

"At Virgin, I was swept off into this world of strawberries and champagne, on boats, in the afternoon. I had two kids and I was struggling. It was very strange to be so close to such a lot of money and not to have a great deal yourself. I'm over that now." (Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

"'Having a Party'. I was at this party, I opened the toilet door and there he was – this is the boss of Virgin Records – dressed in a teddy bear suit. With a girl. Hence the LP 'Milionaires and Teddy Bears'. I never told him this. He's rather sensitive about it" (live jokes)

"'Having a Party' was a pointed attack on Virgin. They didn't like it very much. I got the general impression that they didn't want me in the picture. And the picture was made rather clear." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Karl Bruckmaier: “There was no place for him in parties with people like Rod Stewart or Ron Wood. He preferred to talk with the ones who search through the garbage in front of Rod Stewart’s house.” (Radio Show, May 2010)

Kevin Coyne: "It's like being called a leaper or an untouchable. They push you against the wall – they never do that to me, they don't come near me, they never talk to me, I'm excluded. That's really what that song is about: 'Get back, get back, we don't want you here', cause you might just remind us of… starving families, death in Biafra, civil war in Algeria, you might just bring it up while we're eating our salmon." (De Lanteren, 1979)

"Sid Vicious was a victim of rock'n'roll, he was exploited. He was virtually a baby. Someone had to feed him the heroin, someone had to push him from one plane to another. Nobody actually stopped and said 'Well this is a terrible thing that's happening, we should put him in a hospital and do something about it'. I feel very bad about that. There's a lot of people in rock'n'roll who don't actually see any of that, they're too busy posing, making money or being successful." (Radio RV Trondheim, 1983)

Trevor Griffiths: "We had to meet in the studio at 9am and devise a play that would be broadcast live, at 9pm that same day. We had no idea what we were going to do. The pressure was intense. The director insisted on typing everything out. He appeared in the early evening looking distracted, clutching the script. Kevin glanced at the first page and allowed a slightly perplexed look to cross his face. Then he said: 'But what has happened to the four firemen?' Who, of course, were never there in the first place. That's when I knew that he was a genius. That's when I knew I wanted him on my side." (Quoted by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Zoot Money: "Many, many good memories Some good, some horrendous. But mostly, if they're horrendous, they're funny as well. With Kevin, it's always got to end with a laugh. Always got to. Yeah, we had some good fun. We were always at each other throats but… just long enough to realize this is all very silly. And this isn't a real job anyway." (1998 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'The World is full of fools', live 1979 with Zoot Money at The Rockpalast
(issued as a DVD in 2011 as "1979 Live at WDR-Studio L Cologne").

'Babble' (1979)

"Songs for lonely lovers"

The fuss surrounding 'Babble' was not about to cure Coyne's galloping paranoia. As he began staging this musical comedy (written in 1976) with Dagmar Krause (German art-rock muse, ex-Slapp Happy, Henry Cow, and Art Bears), Kevin had the bad idea of pointing out that the story of 'lovers struggling to communicate' could have something in common with the lives of Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, the serial killers whose story had shocked Britain ten years before.

The famous rabble-rousing vulgarity of the British tabloids was immediately unleashed. They ridiculed the long-haired highbrow who sought to justify the terrible crimes and the play was eventually cancelled in London.

The record, in the same musical vein as 'Dynamite Daze' and 'Millionaires', is an ultra-powerful and compact masterpiece (even if Krause's singing put off more than one).

Over a three year period, Coyne had released a stream of progressively stronger songs. He was literally overflowing with creativity (for 'England England', another strange musical comedy, that remained unpublished, Coyne wrote as many as six songs a day!).

Add to that the endless touring, record company pressure, frustration over a lack of commercial success and increasing alcoholism. Something had to give...

Kevin Coyne: "This was really getting away from two commercially successful albums, which is rather typical of me. But it's essentially just trying to be treated as an artist rather than a product. And I wanted to do something slightly different. Very different, in fact." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"The story revolves round the lives of two lovers who allow their affections to stifle all contact with the world outside their relationship. All sweetness turn sour and they turn into lonely monsters. Shades of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley? Definitely. I try to think of a girl singer to play the female role. Carol Grimes? Maggie Bell? I wonder if they would want to do it? Perhaps they wouldn’t want to get involved in such a sad thing? I don’t know." (Melody Maker, July 19, 1976)

"Dagmar [Krause] is the best of the painful brigade – she sings with a lot of feeling… With a thing like that, a time usually arrives when it's right" (Liquorice, 1978)

Brian Godding: "It was towards the end of 1980 that I was approached by a lad called Bob Ward. He wanted to know if I’d be interested in getting involved in a project with a guy he was managing called Kevin Coyne. I’d heard of him but was unfamiliar with his music as our paths had never crossed. At this point the real carrot to me was that one of my all time loony heroes was also involved, him being Zoot Money! Say no more!

Well, anyway, I met up with Kevin and was well impressed with the lad! Fantastic sense of humour and incredible singing voice, a real talent. Well, the music for this project had already been recorded so the plan was to take it on the road and would turn out to be, for me, a crash course in the weird and wonderful world of Kevin Coyne! The actual piece was called 'Babble', loosely described (by me) as a musical come play come narrative performed by Kevin and Dagmar Krause (Bob’s girlfriend) with Zoot and me providing the music. Based on a imaginary relationship between Ian Brady and Myra Hindley (the notorious Moors murderers!!!), it was bloody contentious to say the least and I think even Kevin was a little bit worried about performing it in the UK but performances were unblighted with any personal injuries and when we performed in Europe nobody knew who the bloody hell they were anyway!! (Godding's website)

Ivan Beavis: "I became a bit of a legend to Kevin because when Babble was banned from the Theatre Royal in Stratford, I used to have a dog which I walked in the local park. It just so happened that I was acquainted with another dog owner who turned out to be the Liberal Councillor who had got the show banned because it allegedly glorified Myra Hyndley and Ian Brady. I was so incensed that I punched this bloke and knocked him over. The end of a beautiful friendship but I recounted the tale to Kevin at Kennington Oval and he was secretly pleased I think."

'Come down here'

Kevin Coyne: "People fall in love, get married, become trapped in each others company. Childless couples buy pets, improve the house, lose contact with human growth. There's a feeling of 'missing out' and resentment – self knowledge but a lack of admission. Society becomes their victim and they work together to spoil and disfigure it wherever they can. The 'Babble' couple take it to extremes, attack the world physically and become soldiers for their own failures. They bomb, trap, and destroy. They're not unlike the child killers Ian Brady and Myra Hindlley – but (perheaps) more intelligent. They cover the whole society – shit on everything.

'Babble' was initially inspired by Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, two English murderers of the flower-power era (1967). They formed a relationship contrary to the mood of the time. They were isolated – anti-society – anti-love… lonely in the truest sense. 'Babble' attempts to explain their problems. I see the root as being a universal dilemma… How do we communicate? How do we trust people?" ('Babble' programme, 1979)

"You see I really believe that all men are alright, regardless of whoever they are. In conversation I like to get down to the levels of their real experiences. When I know what their parents did, I feel easier, I can begin to understand them so much more. And as to who causes the mess, fucks it all up, who manipulates who. Often the most guilty people are the most innocent. […]

I do believe that the family can work quite admirably given that there is this thing called love, which is readily available for everyone. Well I know that they [Kevin’s children] are good people as it stands. I can also see how the situation could be quite the reverse, given that I didn’t have love or hadn’t received love, then I would find it hard to give it out or want to share those experiences. But fortunately, I did have and do get a lot of love." (Liquorice, 1976)

"Brady and Hindley seem to be gruesome examples of how far loneliness can make you resentful. But it's not just a story about them, it's about the dilemma of communicating and trusting people.".

"There are a lot of songs of affection. But there's a kind of desperation that goes on between the two people. They're talking about their affection but I'm trying to indicate that their affection is not a healthy thing. I mean in the end they sing 'It doesn't really matter / It doesn't really matter' and then the very final thing is, 'It doesn't really matter who you are / We know who we are'. Which is the kind of things that people say. But they don't really." (Sounds, April 14, 1979)

"'Babble' was really a moral of the times. I just hope people see it as that and not as a glorification of the Moors Murderers or fascist or anything. Because I think people are very loathe to admit they have a capacity of hatred inside them. They're quite hypocritical really. They don't face the realities in themselves." (Time Out, 1979)

"`Babble' is a particularly thorough, painstaking exploration of the reality of one relationship, stripped of romance and artifice. The format employed is correspondingly stark. Against a stage-set of light-bulb, table and chairs, Coyne and his partner Dagmar Krause stand at either side; the only accompaniment comes from Bob Ward and Brian Godding, playing electric and acousitc guitar in the gloom behind." (NME, 1979)

Dagmar Krause: "People abroad were coming up and saying that it was done in such a way that they really could understand what was being said. Or, if not every word, they still got the feeling of what it was all about. I think that's the best we could have hoped for." (Time Out, 1979)

Will Oldham: "Immediatly my place in the world is questionned in a way that did not make me happy. […] I’m devoted to the record and love it, the transference of horror (of ourselves) into music and back again has not been done so well. It's a recording that fully reverberates the fear. Other emotions get sounded but fear has burrowed deeper like prostate infection…". (Mojo, 2005)

Kevin Coyne: "I like people to recognise what I'm doing. That little nod of the head at the end of the songs that says to me 'aaah, you know'. I think only a fool would say it isn't necessary." (Soundmaker, Feb 26 1983)

Brian Godding: "Zoot moved on fairly sharpish and Bob Ward took his place on acoustic guitar for most of the continental gigs with this piece (we actually toured with it quite extensively). It was in retrospect, a bit of a funny and disturbing period because although I was getting on really well with Kevin (getting used to the way he performed, trying to out-drink him, which was impossible, and just generally enjoying the experience), Kevin and Bob were, as it turned out, getting close to the end of their professional relationship so there was always an uncomfortable vibe which I had to learn to ignore but it was difficult." (Godding's website)

Kevin Coyne: "They actually thought that was me saying that [the 'Hitler was a great man' line in the song 'Shaking Hands with the Sun']. And immediately, I'm a fascist. But the point is, it's a very disturbed man that's talking. It was the same with using the Krays for that thing I did with Snoo [Wilson]. And this time it's Hindley and Brady. 'Babble' doesn't glorify its subjects. If anything, it humanises." (Time Out, 1979)

"There's little bit of Hitler in all of us I think anyway. If we're really honest about it." (De Lanteren, 1979)

"It's over-burdened with romance, over-burdened with a very trivial expectation that failed. Which I do honestly believe, reading between the lines, was essentially what happened to Brady and Hindlley really. They were part of the love and peace thing. I mean, at least they ran parallel with it. But, ironically, they came close to the truth in some respects. They were how people really are…

The mode of the times was to pretend we were all in love but the hatred and lust and all that was still all there. None of this has ever been eradicated by any 'ism' and I wanted to comment on that. I was fascinated by how Charles Manson could run parallel with Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. It's as if people love a good crime. But not that one. They'll read about it, sell millions of books on the subject, but they don't like to admit it.

You really can't say anything about it, least in England, without getting a great big hammer on your head. Which is what happened to me, really." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"There's an ambivalence about what I do. A song ['Coconut Island'] on 'In Living Black & White' was called racist and the album 'Babble' was so misunderstood that I felt seriously about not talking to the press again. It actually hurts when people get things wrong and it's taken me three years to get over the rejection of that record. Whether these people care about the damage they do I don't know." (Soundmaker, Feb 26 1983)

"'Babble', the 1979 collaboration of the songwriter Kevin Coyne with singer Dagmar Krause, a daring and provocative meditation on the love affair between Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, is one of the most extraordinary recordings I have heard in more than a quarter century as a music journalist. Wedded to his melancholia, Coyne deserves to be ranked alongside Robert Wyatt and classic Randy Newman; maybe even Ian Curtis of Joy Division." (The Guardian, 2004)

Will Oldham: "Angel Olsen and I started working together about a year ago, specifically because I had wanted to take it to the road, essentially to tour somebody else’s record. A record that has meant a lot to me, and been kind of an enigma to me in many ways, called “Babble,” written by Kevin Coyne and Dagmar Kraus. I think she identified it as a concept record, the story of a relationship. It’s a fairly dramatic, expressionistic musical tour through the more drastic times in a relationship. It’s just a wild record and I’d always been compelled by it and I wanted to get inside of it. In order to get inside of it, it was necessary to find a woman who might have the capacity to take on what has been Dagmar Kraus’s role in the original record. My friend, Emmett Kelly, whom I worked a lot with on the last six years, said he’d heard this singer, Angel Olsen, and he said I think she might fit for this idea. So we did a couple shows a year ago together and said okay, let’s do it. So we started full-on touring toward the end of the year last year, then I felt confident in continuing forward with this six-piece ensemble, knowing that we would have a mighty group of singers with Angel and Emmett on board." (Speakeasy, Oct 2011)

Two articles from The Melody Maker, 1979: (click to enlarge)

Very rare footage from 'Babble' live

'Elvira/Songs from the Archives' (1979/1983)

In 1994, Rockport had the good idea of releasing some old, unheard tracks. 'Elvira' is a musical comedy in the 'Babble' mould. Here are the simple demos sung by Kevin and it's a real treat to discover these '70s gems.

The 'Songs From The Archives' date from 1983 and it's easy to understand why no label released them at the time. They spring from probably the maddest Coyne period. The musicians improvise and Coyne screams. It's Beefheart territory, tough.

Kevin Coyne: "Elvira was a society hostess who killed her lover in the thirties and escaped relatively lightly (short prison sentence, I can't remember). The Barney case exposes England for all its class ridden hypocrisy. Elvira, however, captured my sympathy. She was a victim, rich but lost. It seems she spent her last days on the Riviera as a drunk." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004)

"Was she a cold blooded murderess who only escaped the hangman because of her wealthy connections or was she simply a liberated young woman, caught in a nightmare, misunderstood, brutalised, pilloried for living 'in sin' by a narrow-minded, male dominated world? I believe the latter. […] The archive songs on this CD come from a period of great stress. Is it right to bombard the listener with the products of a crazy mind, to subject them to my (sometimes) self pitying whine? I don't know, but I hope there's someone out there who understands, who can glean a little comfort from the ramblings of a fellow struggler." (liner notes to the CD)

"It's not really left-overs in the sense that I don't consider them to be inferior, it's just that they didn't fit into the scheme of things at the time." (from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Bursting Bubbles' (1980)

"Sliced like a cucumber, cracked like an egg, sitting like a little dog, waiting to beg for you, for him"

Kevin Coyne apparently suffered several nervous breakdowns and lived through some tough times at the start of the '80s. 'Bursting Bubbles' with its alarming cover is both unbearable and magnificent. There were some changes in the line-up, with crucially the arrival of the magnificent Brian Godding, a little-known jazz-rock guitarist from the legendary sixties band Blossom Toes. A strong character – Kevin considered him one of the rare geniuses he had come across but also admitted they had terrible fights during their collaboration – Godding leads Coyne in a very different direction from previous albums. The sound is cold, the atmosphere disturbing. With drum machines, heart-rending sax, and Coyne's improvised moaning, we are steeped in anxiety as if finally in a true blues record, the artist describing his pain frankly, without frills.

A bizarre and stripped down blues.

Kevin Coyne: "'Bursting Bubbles' was just pure angst really, squeezing out that old-fashioned male role – I somehow knew things would never be the same again" (1982)

"I took it out into Virgin and they were astonished, 'You can't put this out!'. But, to give them their due, they did in the end. But I stand by it. Whether I'll ever feel quite as tortured again, it's highly unlikely. But it was during the break-up of a relationship and it reflected that. I've met numerous people over the years that bought this album and gained support from it. So on that level alone, at least it justified its existence. I find it very hard to listen to it today I have to say." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Brian Godding: I don’t know what I expected him to be like (live), but he was much more animated musically and visually and character-wise than I could imagine anybody could be. It was like working with Laurence Olivier I suppose, but a musical version of Laurence Olivier. He could improvise, he could be powerful, he could be funny, he could change it like that, from something completely ridiculous to something extremely serious. And back again, in a couple of seconds. Which was great. I was used to going over and over and over until you sort of got what you thought might be right. That wasn’t the way Kevin worked. He was the antithesis. He couldn’t stand doing that. He got bored very quickly. I mean, he wouldn’t listen to his voice and go, oh, I think I did a bum note there. I never, ever heard Kevin do that ever." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: Low-fi? Of course, I am low-fi but tonight I'm not! But most of the time I start out very low fi, yes. Two chords and I never learnt any more! […] Improvisation doesn't always work and that's a thing you have to take a chance with but I'm prepared to do that. And sometimes, I listen to things and I wince at the fucking stupidity of the rhyme, but normally I go back over an album, eradicate all the obvious repetitions and things. But I just like the feeling of saying exactly what comes through your head. I love this idea." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

Brian Godding: "Whilst out on the road with ‘Babble’, Kevin said he’d like to continue the musical relationship at the end of the run of gigs and invited me to contribute to his next album for Virgin records so of coarse I was well down for that. At this point I had no idea what he had in mind but I knew it would be something totally different to what I’d done before and, it most certainly was! I’d long given up the desire to write’songs’ so I assumed that I’d turn up, plug in and learn a few songs he’d written but that was not the plan at all! Kevin (well actually Bob) booked some studio time and, on arriving and setting up, Kevin looked at me and said, 'got any tunes or chord sequences?'-------(!!!!!!) 'I beg your pardon' (I thought!), well, for some reason (probably sheer terror!) I started fiddling around with this little sequence of riffs and chords and Kev’ said, “I like that, play it again”.

So, I play it again, Kevin riffles through a pile of poems and lyrics and starts singing this amazing song over the top of it!! 'Bloody hell! (me thinks) this is going to be good when we sort it out!' 'Got that on tape Bob?' Kevin says as we grind to a halt after some time, Bob gives a nod from the control room and we appear to have ‘Learn to swim, Learn to drown’, the first track for the new album, 'Bursting Bubbles'!!! I said to Kevin that maybe we should do another take at least but he just said 'why'?

He was of coarse right as this was the way he worked and we made the rest of the album in the same way (he did let me do a few overdubs though, just to keep me happy!) A very spontaneous performer and artist with the ability to pull it off and – of great importance – a very selfless and generous gent!! (Godding's website)

Kevin Coyne: "It's practically a badge of honour with me never to play a song the same way twice." (2002)

"Brian Godding, I think he's a great musician, very interesting performer. As a guitar player, I think he's extremely underrated, full of music. Andy Summers was an interesting guy to work with. Not simply that he's well known -- I think he's got a very special sound. Rather neat and tidy for my sort of purposes, but nonetheless he had his own mind, and brought something [of] himself into the situation. Recently I've been working with Gary Lucas, the former Beefheart guitar player, who's worked with people like Joan Osborne, Tim Buckley's son, and he's an interesting player too. I liked his work very much. Gordon Smith, also – very interesting slide player from the 'Marjory Razorblade' period. Very underrated player, I think. Everybody brought something to the situation. But they're my favorites, the ones I just mentioned." (1988)

'Dark Dance Hall': "I was trying to express some of the darkness and depression I felt wandering around discos, one of my favourite obsessions, these dark places where lights swirl… I remember being in this particular place and feeling more lonely than I ever felt in my entire life." (Radio Hilversum, 1980)

"I think I was at my very best then. I was wild and idealistic and younger, and I thought there was great passion in what I did." ('Unknown legends of rock'n'roll', Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"I like all of them [albums]. That might sound egotistical but they all have something to say. My favourite these days would have to be 'Bursting Bubbles', probably closely followed by 'Majory Razorblade' and 'Case History', from the albums before the Virgin days." (Record Collector, July 2002 )

"A lot of the characters rather don't accept that stability exists, but make the most of it and show a positive side in the end. I think my record are actually positive if you view them with an open mind and see life as a bit of a gamble, but if you're going looking for solid truths and great wisdom, it's not there. I'm not a great believer in that, anyway." (La Folia 2001)

'Children's Crusade'

'Sanity Stomp' (1980)

"I was clinically ninety-five per cent nuts, and the themes are rather odd, but somehow it comes out as sounding all right"

A double album with no coherent link between the two records. Or perhaps just a typically uncompromising Coynesque coherence, agreeing to record the first disc with The Ruts from a 'commercial rock-pop' angle, while the second disc would be a more extreme experiment with Brian Godding and Robert Wyatt...

Always full of ideas, Virgin saw Coyne as a replacement for the recently deceased Ruts lead singer. Coyne saw it merely as a chance to show that he was just as punky as any of these youngsters. The result is a strange disc: not bad but no great revelation either, although Coyne does well in the role of punk singer pushing forty.

But the real jewel is disc two: it still seems a shame that Wyatt wasn't invited to sing at all but apparently Kevin's mental state at this time did not allow him to share the spotlight. Some superb pieces, built on Wyatt's subtle percussion and Godding's odd arpeggios, provide Kevin with an amazing and solid backing for some long dreamlike ravings ('New Motorway', 'Wonderful Wilderness') as well as comic pieces ('My Wife Says' or 'The World Speaks' with its hilarious roll call: 'Yoko, peace... cabbages, peace'). The album ends abruptly with 'You Can't Kill us', a return to plain, aggressive Coyne blues: 'You can say I'm neurotic, say I'm psychotic, but you can't kill me'.

"Here, there are few recognizable landmarks to cling onto and, coming out of the firestorm of the album's first half, few albums have been so aptly titled." (Dave Thompson, All Music Guide)

Kevin Coyne: "It was a combination of many things, hard living and success, failure, false values, illusions, getting caught up in the rock’n’roll lifestyle I suppose as much as anything. Anyway, fortunately, it passed." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"He had fits of uncontrollable rage. At one point he believed he was an avatar. He saw a doctor, but said he couldn't concentrate because her eyes were emitting green light." (Quoted by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Kevin Coyne: "When you actually go mad yourself, you don't know that you're mad. I wasn't aware at all, it was very strange. And when it finally ended, it was almost as if it ended one morning and I woke up from a sort of sleep. I had incredible obsessions – apart from the religious thing – and went through manifestations of every form of schizophrenia. How I managed to carry on, I don't really know.

I was feeling very despairing and confused at the time and I became very temporarily, rather religious. It was a latent hippy phase, I suppose. I got into mysticism, the Eastern element, guru figures… but I should mention that I did have a nervous breakdown at this time, which went on for three or four months. I was extremely ill as well." (1982)

"I'm very much aware now of the thought process that can lead to it. Once you start to really believe in the entirety of the creative fancies with which you work, they become dangerous. You're tapping into all kinds of psychic possibilities, all kinds of strangeness when you write. Late at night, when I work, I often feel I'm surrounded by ghosts. That I am observed. William Burroughs wrote that he felt Denton Welsh, the postwar author, took over his spirit at times when he was writing. I wouldn't go so far as to say that's happened to me. But I understand what he meant." (The Independent, 2001)

"In certain situations, there's a great aesthetic delight taken in madness but actually it's a completely miserable state to be in, totally unreal. It turned out to be a useless state… not relating to the days at all." (Soundmaker, Feb 26 1983)

"Sometimes a bit of a shock isn't a bad thing. It's because I feel insulted sometimes by the attitudes of certain…. because I can see them all, I can see every face that's bad, you know. On a good night the eyesight fixes on certain individuals. You can't hear what they're saying – they might be saying the most pleasant things, but the old paranoia creeps on. And the need to shout at something comes on. I mean, paranoia's very much part of what I do anyway. You present yourself as an unwilling yet willing victim at the same time. If you listen to the songs you'll see that… (laughs). There is fair evidence, I think, 'Marjory Razorblade' and 'Case History' are just one long tirade against it in various ways…." (NME, 27 March 1976)

"Schizophrenic thought can be viable. But what I hadn't known before I had a breakdown was the pain and anger, the horror of being mad. The 24-hour nervous state, the feeling that every tiny movement is important. I remember very clearly more than one line of any book. Everything on the radio was about me. Everytime I put on a record, it was for the word. Everybody knew who I was. There was no cover anywhere." (The Independent, 2001)

Robert Wyatt: "Anybody that John Peel liked I automatically liked, because I liked John Peel. And if he really liked somebody, then I really liked them. He wasn’t a musician, he just used his instincts, and what he was after was… well, authenticity, rather than any particular style, and they don’t get much more authentic sounding than Kevin. John Peel wasn’t wrong about things. He would really emphasise that he thought Kevin was deeply on to something." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "Robert Wyatt is a friend of mine who I admire probably more than most things in England currently and for the past decade. An extraordinary sensitive, creative, daring artist, who produced to me one of the classic albums of all time, 'Rock Bottom'. No-one can really write about broken hearts or love better than Robert Wyatt." (Radio Hilversum, 1980)

'Fear of Breathing'

Brian Godding: "Well, I suppose it was the end of 1980, beginning '81 (I’d better check that or I’ll be shot down in flames by Pascal Regis!!) 1980 it was! Kevin was about to make his last album for Virgin records which turned out to be 'Sanity Stomp'. Again he asked me to contribute and he also asked Robert Wyatt to be involved also. It was good to see Robert again and of coarse play a bit more music with him as the last time we had worked together was in Keith Tippett’s Centipede (1970) and in between he’d had his accident and ended up in a wheel chair so it was great to see he was on top of it all and still full of music.

We ended up with a piece of music called ‘Wonderful Wilderness’, with again, one of my riffs and Kevin and Robert improvising poetry, percussion and various other keyboard type things over and around it, oh and Bod Ward played some really nice electric guitar chord work in the form of punctuations." (Godding's website)

Kevin Coyne: "Virgin did not do anything. One of the head men there was an accountant, he then went to EMI. What does an accountant know about music? He probably knows everything about Virgin’s funny business, but he’s now living in LA. I finally quit, they did not kick me, I quit.." (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2004)

"I just said I wanted to go. I was a bit lost in the wilderness and I felt I needed a change. And these guys from Cherry Red Records were very keen, and I think I did three albums for them. And then I was actually pushed out of that situation, and it's been sort of indie labels ever since – Rough Trade, and so on. But the years with Virgin, I mean, they're artistically very good, I think. It was a very rich period. And I wished in many ways I'd have stayed, really. I rather regretted it later because they did the old publicity. One can sneer and turn your nose up at it, and get very snobby about it but I've rather lacked it of late." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"The record industry is full of arseholes, um, yeah you put that down, uh, maybe one or two exceptions, maybe Tomas Ruf, my new record company, he's a nice guy. He puts his money where his mouth is. But most of them would be better off selling carpets or whipped cream, including Jac Holzman, Elektra Records, that's another one. Only interested in money, basically." (La Folia 2001)

"I wanted to join a small record company and I didn't want to be part to a label that had Human League and Culture Club and all of that. Although I like all that stuff! I don't think it really is very close to what I do. My records sold very slowly over the years and the policy of a record company as Virgin is to sell as many records over a shortest period as possible." (Radio RV Trondheim, 1983)

"The reality dawned on me somewhere toward the end of the '70s and I decided to draw away from this, support myself in a more honest way, rather than to be a slave to some record company." (VPRO,1999)

"I could have been a superstar but I chose to be who I am

I was offered various jobs, I could have joined the Doors you know - it's absolutely true

But I simply refused

I could have been on the Virgin Record label for the rest of my life

If I had cleaned Richard Branson's car and behaved and become a Thatcherite

But I simply refused

And I'm really glad to be who I am" […]

(live impro in 1990)

'Pointing The Finger' (1981)

"One little timeless piece of peace"

The break with Virgin was followed by another attack of depression. The sleeve for 'Pointing the Finger' – the autistic painting on the front and the depressing rear photo – said much about the suffering of the guy. And the music isn't playful either. Yet, 'Pointing The Finger' is a favourite among fans. It's the only album recorded with GLS (Godding-Lamb-Sheen, plus Steve Bull on keyboards), the group accompanying him on stage, a brilliant combo of young musicians from the jazz-rock scene. Godding is the master of ceremonies and the missing link between Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck, a monster guitarist capable of the most sophisticated jazz-rock arpeggios as well as killer riffs ('As I Recall').
Coyne harnesses all this energy to express his discontent and carry his lyrics. His sleeve notes, detailing the theme of each song, are a valuable glimpse into the Coyne creative process. An extremely powerful album, bearing witness to the schism between rebellion and impotence which resided in the artist.

Steve Bull: "Kevin's road manager at the time was a guy called Ian Francis, a very influential guru-like figure. Ian had set up a squat (free housing commune) in Kennington, south London. Living here amongst drug dealers, car thieves, glamour models, city workers were some fine musicians/artists including myself, Steve Lamb, Dave Wilson who was our percussionist with First Moves (and later became Kevin's drummer) and an amazing Parkeresque sax player called Martin Normington (also from First Moves)." (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2003, as all quotes from Steve for this album)

Kevin Coyne: "I basically had a nervous breakdown. I embarked on a rather mammoth European tour and I had to quit after about three gigs 'cause I basically went bananas. I was drinking heavily – the old cognac for breakfast, you know – belting it all down." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Steve Bull: "Kevin asked me if I wanted to play a few songs with him, so I borrowed a couple of keyboards off one of the support bands, and he had his acoustic guitar, we took to the stage, and I was petrified, I was quite young at the time. There were at least 70,000 people there, you couldn't even see the back of the row of faces. He said hello to the crowd, and then, to me 'What shall we play Steve?' !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kevin's approach to recording albums was ahead of his time! Most bands then would run up large debts with the record companies, recording in overpriced studios for weeks and months. Kevin had done a bit of that with Virgin I believe. So after that he was looking for a deal where he had more control. He got a good advance from Cherry Red for both 'Pointing' and 'Politicz' but kept the recording expenses to a minimum, and payed off his mortgage on his house with the change!"

Brian Godding: "As all of Kevin’s admirers and fans will know he was a genuine, multi talented fellow and amongst other other things, he would do poetry recitals (Kevin style that is!) of which I would be asked to accompany him on guitar (improvising) on several occasions.

It would lead the way to Kevin Working with GLS [Godding-Lamb-Sheen] for most of 1981 as we were beginning to socialise between gigging (that's going to the pub on a regular basis!) and it was only a matter of time before Kev’ would be showing up at GLS gigs and joining in for a bit of fun.

He really took a shine to the band and it’s jazzy-rocky way of performing so we were soon talking about putting a show together as he had plenty of work in the pipeline both in the UK, Europe and beyond.

Kevin has this amazing following and fan base especially in Europe and London and I think the most accurate way I can sum up Coyne/GLS shows is they were akin to a party with cabaret and music and story telling!! As I said before, Kevin was always very generous with the stage and GLS would have plenty of time to hoot and in an entirely barmy sort of way it worked really well." (Godding's website as all Brian's quotes for this album)

Kevin Coyne: "We took that band on the road and it was a nightmare really. The gigs were incredibly loud, and Brian was the son-of-heavy-metal when it came to playing on stage. It didn't really gel. It was rather explosive. But it was a marvelous band. Brian's somebody very special. I would say Andy Summers is a great professional, but Brian's a great artist. And incredibly under-rated." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Steve Bull: "We recorded in Alvic Studios in West Kensington, which was a good little low budget studio, only 16 track analog, but we had recorded there before and we knew they had a brilliant young engineer called Mike Gregovitch who recorded it superbly. Nothing was spent on the mixing which could have been better but the end result was good enough."

Kevin Coyne: "It was a hell of an album to do, because I think there was a lot of stress and strain in the studio. A lot of boozing and, not exactly brawling, but not far off." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Brian Godding: "Made in true Kevin tradition, one take will do!! (I did manage to wangle a few rehearsals with GLS beforehand for the songs/ chords/ timings/ tempo/ keys etc!!) but I have to say it worked and works to this day, remarkable!

It’s fairly well documented that Kevin was going through some pretty heavy personal trials at this point in his life, but I have to say that he was always a pleasure to work with and his ‘road’ sense of humour and irony (not to mention his enormous capacity for beer and ciggys) would keep everybody pissing themselves for most of the time and I have to say his audiences never ceased to amaze me (it was like he knew every damn one of them personally!!)

Kevin Coyne: "'One Little Moment' is about a flash of sanity and peace during a very difficult time. I was just recovering from a nervous breakdown when I wrote this and the stress involved was still very much in the air." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004)

Steve Bull: "I learnt so much from Brian Godding, who to me is a genius. Some of the sounds he produced from little melos tape echo boxes, and old effects pedals he had used with the Blossom Toes were tremendous. He also knew his stuff as far as production technique and his huge talent made Kevin raise his own standards as he was quite competitive! Dave Sheen was/is a very good musician, technically superb and he had worked with a lot of jazz musicians and you can hear that in his playing I think. Steve Lamb (bass) plays superbly on this album, and just listen to the lovely tone of his fretless bass! So, for me, this was an excellent record. My favourite track probably being 'One Little Moment'. This is in 7/4 time which is very difficult to play, but the band made it seem effortless, and Kevin's lyrics and voice blended perfectly with the music."

Kevin Coyne:"It got rather off-hand reviews. it was as if my day was over and I had all the plaudits, and now I was to be thrust into history." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Sleeping-Waking'

'Pøliticz' (1982)

"Tell the Truth!"

Another good example of the way Coyne used the talents of his sidemen. Steve Bull offered him some rough synthesiser demos which Coyne seized on. Refusing to re-record them, he improvised lyrics on top and released the result intact. The album was completed with songs accompanied brilliantly by Peter Kirtley on acoustic guitar (he had replaced Godding in the live band). Despite the electronic-acoustic dichotomy, 'Politicz' works perfectly: Coyne is at the peak of his art. 'Banzai' and 'Tell The Truth' are harrowing plunges into the world of madness over heady techno loops. 'I've Got The Photographs' and 'Flashing Back' are examples of precious – and all too rare – acoustic moments in the the Coyne oeuvre.
Cherry Red later re-released 'Politicz' and 'Pointing the Finger' on one CD.

Kevin Coyne: "I quite positively wanted to write something for women. I really feel deeply that the only real war being fought was between men and women, and 99 times out of 100 the conflict exists because men haven't come to terms with themselves – they resort to physical strength to resolve things that are rooted in their past, their childhood, or whatever. It's something I've been working towards. I mean, if you go back to some of the things I did in the late '60s, I was singing 'baby' and all the usual mid-Atlantic clichés, but I gradually got rid of that and nearer to my own voice." (1982)

Steve Bull: "'Politicz' could have been much better from my point of view. I had a little 4-track cassette 'portastudio' in my bedroom at Oval Mansions and I had written some songs for my publishers, the best of which were used by my band at the time 'The Japanese Blondes'. This band was about as far away from Kevin Coyne as you could get, two blonde glamour models, me singing and synthing and Berni Davis on guitar. It was very throw away synth/glamour/pop with lots of hair gel and makeup, mainly on the guys!!

Anyhoo, somehow Kevin heard some of these and asked if he could use some of them, so I gave him a copy, even the ones that had been rejected by my band. Before I knew it we were out in the wilds of Surrey in a very cheap studio, and we had, as I recall, only two days to make the album. On one track, the engineer even used the cassette demo as the master! I was very young, and honoured (and paid a session fee!) to be involved, but I felt a little embarrassed as the tracks were nowhere near ready to go out on an important album. I would have written better tracks if I had been given the time, and I dont think Kevin was at his best, he went to the pub as we recorded the backing tracks, then came back and, slightly pissed, jammed along to the takes." (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2003, as all Steve's quotes for this album)

Kevin Coyne: "I didn't want them to sound like Ultravox or something, which is basically what he wanted, I think. I tried to get away from that so I had to mess up a bit." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Steve Bull: "So this could've been a much better album, both sides, although I still think there are some good songs, especially the acoustic ones, I like the 'Fun Flesh' song the best."

Kevin Coyne: "I’ll support anything that liberates people from their basic feelings of insecurity. because there has been a lot in women that has been neglected, essential feelings about the feminine nature which have been ignored by the men. But it’s not strictly their fault either, we’ve been trained in the same way. But I’m learning myself. people can be very crude and cruel and all sorts of things. The old man beating up his wife because he thinks that it’s his gig to do that…" (Liquorice, 1976)

Phelan, Jim: "That summer, it was very difficult to get hold of him, 'He gos out jogging for hours on end', Lesley [Coyne's first wife] told me, 'but he's not losing any weight'. He later confided in me that having donned his [bright red] track-suit and trainers and made it three quarters of the way round the common, he discovered 'The Windmill', an excellent Youngs' house that encourages outdoor drinking on hot summer days… He limited himself to four pints of 'Special' before walking home. That was his fitness regime for most of the summer." (Liner notes to 'Pointing the Finger/Polticz' reissue)

Nigel Burch: One morning, back in the very early 80s, I was sitting on a park bench in Clapham Common, nursing a hangover. In the distance I saw a red blob bobbing along the path. The red blob grew larger as it neared my bench and I became aware that there was something strangely familiar about it.

'No, it can't be,' I thought, 'it can't be.'

But it was. I couldn't believe my eyes, as they say. It was Kevin Coyne jogging in a bright red track suit.

I'll say that again: it was Kevin Coyne jogging in a bright red track suit.

At that time he was living not far away, in Wandsworth Road, so I wasn't surprised to see him in the area – but I was surprised to see him jogging in a bright red track suit.

'Hello Nigel', he said.

'Kevin,' I said, 'What the fuck are you doing?'

'It stops me from thinking,' he said.

And with that he was gone, bobbing off down the path again, a bright red blob getting smaller and smaller until I couldn't see him at all. Sounds like a strange dream, I know. But it wasn't." (Kevin Coyne Group, 2005)

'Tell the Truth'

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