WARTS AND ALL

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

A fan: "Could I have your autograph?

I listen to your records everyday"

Kevin Coyne: "You must lead a very boring life..."

"I wonder if that Pascal is all there"
(Kevin Coyne)

Dedicated to the memory of a great artist,
and an admirer of Kevin Coyne:
Vic Chesnutt (1964-2009)

Foreword by Tony Donaghey

Some time in my distant past, I read a review of Kevin Coyne's live double album 'In Living Black And White' and something must have clicked cos off I went and bought said LP. Needle hits the first side and I hear some bizzarre mutterings, some pounding on a piano, a nursery rhyme-like song about a dead head and chasing it down the street. Then suddenly, the scene changes to a morgue where Coyne recalls an incident from his social worker past when he is called to identify a body of someone who has a piece of paper in his pocket with Kevin's name on it. The realisation that he could have helped this bloke if only he'd managed to get to him in time just echoes thru the speakers.

Just when your spirits are down, in comes a song about a fat girl going to commit suicide – but while your still reeling, in kicks one of the greatest live bands of the time with a song John Lydon listed as a favourite – 'Eastbourne Ladies'. An obsession was born.

Sometimes I've tried to share this obsession with others but know of no other artist who so polarises so many people. He was never a musician's musician – having one of the most basic guitar techniques you'll ever see. He was in no way pin-up material and he had a voice which at times could strip paint off metal. But his body of work contains some of the most real and thought provoking lyrics you'll ever hear and, even when going thru his own breakdown, he didn't shy away from recording it on album on the astonishing 'Bursting Bubbles'.

Coyne died in 2004 from lung failure which in his last years saw him singing aided by a breathing tube and in a wheel chair.

Tony Donaghey

www.kevincoynebooks.com

Contents

Foreword

Introduction

The early years (1944-1969)

The Siren years (1969-1971)

The day Coyne was asked to fill Jim Morrison’s shoes

Social work years (1965-1969)

'Case History' (1972)

'Marjory Razorblade' (1973)

'Blame it on the Night' (1974)

'Matching Head and Feet' (1975)

'Heartburn' (1976)

'England England' (1976)

'In Living Black and White' (1976) / 'On Air' (1975)

'Beautiful Extremes' (1974–1978)

Success/Business

'Dynamite Days' (1978)

'Millionaires and Teddy Bears' (1978)

'Babble' (1979)

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

'Bursting Bubbles' (1980)

'Sanity Stomp' (1980)

'Pointing The Finger' (1981)

'Pøliticz' (1982)

'Rough' (1983) / 'At the Last Wall' (1982)

'Legless In Manilla' (1984)

'Peel Sessions' (1973/1990)

Germany (1984-2004)

'Stumbling Onto Paradise' (1987)

'Everybody's Naked' (1988) / 'Romance-Romance' (1990) / 'Wild Tiger Love' (1991)

'Burning Head' (1992)

'Tough And Sweet' (1993)

'Mansion of Dreams' (1993) /'Opera for Syd' (1999)

'The Adventures of Crazy Frank' (1995)

'Knocking On Your Brain' (1996)

'Sugar Candy Taxi' (1999)

'Room Full of Fools' (2000)

'Life Is Almost Wonderful' (2002)

'Carnival' (2002)

'One Day In Chicago' (2002)

'Donut City' (2004)

'Underground' (2004)

Under each album artwork, you will find a link to more information (line up, song titles, dates etc.) about each album and another one to the lyrics to the songs - these links go to http://kevincoynepage.tk

Introduction

"I had a nightmare boogie one last night,
I dreamed l was trapped in a hall full of golden discs

Somebody said to me, 'Which one is yours?'
And I had to confess I hadn't got one, hadn't got a single,
Hadn't got a single one at all
Not one at all
But I don’t care!"
('Having a Party', 1978)

Despite forty albums to his name, isn't Kevin Coyne all but forgotten? He's gone missing from the racks of most record shops, although he was still able to fill the 100 Club in London in October 2004, at the end of a final UK tour…

Back in the 70's, he was deservedly compared to some great names: Beefheart, Van Morrison, Joe Cocker, even Dylan. One of the first signings to a (by then) brand new label, Virgin, he packed London's Hyde Park in 1974 and made the cover of NME. Showered with praise by Nik Kent, called 'A national treasure' by BBC Andy Kershaw, championned by John Peel who had been the first to sign Coyne in 1969 on his short-lived Dandelion Records label, Kevin played and recorded with Robert Wyatt, Carla Bley, Andy Summers, Zoot Money, Brian Godding, Dagmar Krause, David Thomas, David Moss, Brendan Croker, Jeffrey Lewis, The Ruts or The Mekons, to name but a few.

After a couple of years in the late '60s with the British Blues band ‘Siren’ (and two albums on Dandelion), Kevin released two powerful solo albums ('Case History', 1972) and the masterpiece 'Marjory Razorblade' (1973). Says Dave Thompson from All Music Guide: 'Yes, there are four or five Kevin Coyne albums that can be described as his best. But 'Marjory Razorblade' remains the greatest of them all.'. All of the Kevin Coyne signature are already here: the folk, the blues and the boogie, the incredible voice that can go from Captain Beefheart's blues shouting down to some heartrending ballads, the wild acoustic guitar strumming, the sad and funny lyrics, many of them ('House on the Hill') fuelled with his experience as a social worker and a nurse in a psychiatric hospital. Add to that the exciting live act that England soon discovered (including the unforgettable gigantic Hyde Park concert) and here are all the ingredients for a legend.

Yet, for some reason – and probably due to his own dislike of fame and compromise – Kevin Coyne never became a rock’n’roll star.

Maybe Coyne's approach never fitted with the designated record company career path: he was too demanding, not brainless enough, without enough of the Sid Vicious. He was just Kevin Coyne, with lyrics as well as a voice, a singer with something to say. Uncompromising, honest, sensitive, intelligent; a rock critic rolls out words that aren't supposed to apply to the dumb universe of sex and drugs and rock and roll...

The comparison with Captain Beefheart is interesting for many reasons. Both men were consumed by an incurable artistic sensibility, with a love of the blues shaping their voices – but while the Captain apparently settled for comfortable dementia, Coyne was clearly engaged from the outset in a struggle against madness. The 1979 Rockpalast TV show, for example, where a new audience got to know him, displayed such a powerful character, such a disturbing and fired-up live performer that he was immediately classified as a parading lunatic. But there Coyne was only pretending, giving a performance. 'Better to be mad than sad' as he sang on 'Pretty Park'…. Coyne the former mental therapist knew so well how to portray madness that later it did come close to consuming him.

Coyne recorded several other great albums for Virgin (highlights include 'Dynamite Daze', 'Millionaires and Teddy Bears' or 'Babble' with Henry Cow singer Dagmar Krause, an album that singer-songwriter Wil Oldham claimed 'changed his life'), some of them with future Police guitarist Andy Summers, culminating with a double live album, 'In Living Black and White', featuring the famous artwork picturing a smiling Kevin hiding a razorblade behind his back.

In the '80s, lack of recognition, a drinking problem, finally led to a major nervous breakdown and a divorce. Kevin quit Virgin to join Cherry Red, for which he recorded two great albums with jazz-rock band GLS (Brian Godding, Steve Lamb, Dave Sheen + Steve Bull).

Coyne let England for Germany where he settled in Nuremberg and, for a couple of chaotic years, fell off the radar of music fans and critics.

A new marriage, an alcoholic cure helped him to get back on the tracks. In the '90s, Coyne began recording again with German musicians, also with his sons Eugene and Robert, as well as, in 2002, with folk guitarist Brendan Croker for a smashing acoustic album, 'Life is almost Wonderful'.

The early 2000s saw him tour the U.S. for the first time (where he met Vic Chesnutt, one of his long time fans), and recorded a great rocking album in Chicago with Jon Langford of the Mekons ('One Day in Chicago', 2002)

Kevin was also a painter and a writer.

In his final years, sane and sober, but ageing and in poor health, Coyne continued his work in the face of indifference contrasted with the deep respect of a handful of fans. His concerts remained absolutely unique experiences that usually left the audience in wonder.

Coyne died peacefully at his home on December 2^nd 2004 from a lung fibrosis. He is survived by his wife Helmi and his sons Eugene, Robert and Nico.

The early years (1944-1969)

"That's Kev, he does a grand Fabian imitation"

Kevin Coyne: "Lots of people think it's Cohen but it's not. It might have been Cohen once upon a time, but I have no idea. I've often wondered about that too, because the family comes from the East End of London." (La Folia, 2001)

"My father was a Cockney-Eastender. It was very much a London family, really. It was sort of left in the wilderness in Derby by virtue of my grandfather moving there, so London seemed like the ancestral home." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Pat Awatkins: "As far as I knew they lived in Balaclava Road Normanton Derby. Joseph Wright's was an odd school. It was situated on the corner of Babington Lane and I think, Gower Street. The building was the old Tax Offices. There was no playground just a small yard so we could only stand out there and talk. Classes were segregated, girls and boys. The only time we got together was in the breaks and the odd times like parties; assemblies were mixed of course. Kevin was in the year above me. He was a very genuine chap and came over as caring and a good listener. I remember him saying he wanted to train in psychiatry he would have been around fifteen or sixteen then. I wonder if someone in his family had had a mental illness to make him think of this. Balaclava Road was quite a poor area. I seem to remember there were a lot of rather black and dismal terraced houses but there could have been a variety of houses. It was quite a busy road, maybe the old terraces have been demolished now." (Interview by Pascal Regis, November 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "'Don't stamp on the baby's head' [from the song 'Mummy']… the connection with is that as a child, I had problems with my head. I had a rather large head as a child. I know it sounds rather ridiculous now. But kids used to shout out names. I was very hurt." (Radio Leeds 1978)

"I was born with the head that was too large. I was taken to the hospital for two years because they thought my head would not stop growing. At school, I wasn't like anybody else really. Very painful jokes. That's part of doing what I do, that compensates in a way. Maybe a couple of years ago, I wouldn't have mentioned that but it's true, and I felt special right from the start. And that's something to do with aggression; cause I'd got to survive too, on that awful level, street level. You gotta be tough, I don't mind being tough, although I'm not tough at all. Terrible, when I was a kid, the terrible fights and arguments, all the time, I was a terror, questioning everything, 'why are we doing this…'" (De Lanteren, 1979)

"How can you forget going to a school run by nuns? I've had to finally own up that I've never really rid myself of that. In a way it provides a spur, something to kick against. I've always thought of Church of England as blank people… spiritually… But the Catholic thing… it's not a familiar sound — what I do, to the average English ear, it's like an alien spirit." (Sounds, January 21, 1978)

Brendan Croker: "We were both beaten by nuns!"(BBC Radio 3, Apr 5 2002)

Kevin Coyne: "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic. That's the way I feel about it. A sense of spirituality, a sense of right and wrong, light and dark, extreme if you like… it's a very lush sort or religion, very rich, like meat with cream on it." (Liquorice, 1978)

"I'm a rather spiritual person and I do believe in Paradise. Often I think you can reach some idea of it just living here on Earth – Paradise seems to flash before your eyes. I'm a great believer in another life, I guess I could be termed religious maybe, not probably in the most orthodox way. I try to put that into what I do. Even if the subject may be sad, I try to put a touch of optimism in there and a feeling of hope."(Feine Adressen, 1996)

"I was very conscious of being in a social start that didn't have the opportunities of other people. I remember I had a friend at school who was a doctor's son and it always amazed me all the benefits they had that seemed unattainable for people like me." (Radio Leeds 1978)

Lesley Coyne: "He said he would love to have been a boxer. He's got lot of aggression. He would have made a good boxer probably. He would have gone right in for the kill every time. It would have always ended with a knock-out." (Herz aus Feuer, 1979)

Kevin Coyne: "'Mona where's my trousers' is not specifically about my childhood, more about an imaginary childhood – many numbers of people I might have come across – some child who is in a sense brutalised by his condition. It's just an attempt to paint a picture or give a color, a coloring to that sort of dingy back kitchen situation, to endless grind that goes on from life in council houses to a job in a factory to… where?" (Radio Leeds 1978)

"My late mother crops upon many an album. A wonderful person. She could sing any bloody song. If you'd give her a subject, she'd rattle off some old music-hall hit. Passing Battersea Park in the car, she broke into 'The Baron of Battersea Park, he only comes out after dark.' She was marvelous. She used to sing in Latin occasionally, 'cause she was a Catholic. Well, we'd not really know what she was singing (laughs). And she was deaf.'' (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"My grandfather was a musician in the army, and my father played the drums. So there was a lot of music around in the house… everybody else was doing it, so I did it as well." (Michael Heatley, liner notes to the 'Kevin Coyne Dandelion Box Set')

Robert Coyne: "Dad's older brother and sister were, respectively, a jazz trumpeter and an opera-singing child prodigy, and his father had played the drums. Further back in the family were any number of other musicians and performers (including one star of music-hall – a kind of English cabaret or revue form, with heavy emphasis on comedy, that Dad loved and incorporated into his own work), and I think Dad enjoyed the continuity – feeling himself part of a tradition." (2008)

Pat Awatkins: "Arthur [Kevin's oder brother] was a very nervous person. He spoke quickly and didn't look you in the eye. I hardly new him but I used to go to the Corporation Hotel Jazz Club in the 60's he played there a fair bit as he was local." (Interview by Pascal Regis, November 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "I’d never tried to make it at all in the business before. For the past four years [1965 to 69] I was a social worker in a mental hospital. I’d rather have made it writing or painting, but singing and wailing was something I’ve always done in my spare time. The last time I was in a group though, was when I was trying to get Chuck Berry and Chuck Willis stuff across in the Shadows kick-your-leg-in-unison era. And everyone in the band [Siren] except John [Chichester] came out of that period, suffering under the weight of English mediocrity – Don Lang, and bad cover versions of American hits, that sort of thing . I used to buy every London-American record I could, in the days when everything that came out on that label was great, and some of those records have haunted me for years… I suppose some aspects of the rock era are apparent in my own singing as a result". (Zig Zag Mag #9 (1969?)

"The first record was 'Rocking Through The Rye'/'Hot Dog Buddy Buddy', by Bill Haley and The Comets." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"Rock'n'roll created a whole new dimension of expression and feeling that had always been there but had been smothered".

"Really though, my influences vary from day to day – I imagine I’m a fairly good mimic – but on record I try to keep it fairly consistent. But stylistically, I’m an aspirant Jerry Butler on occasions, aspirant Ben E King certainly, and traces of lots of others – cruder, raw singers like Buddy Guy and Elmore James… and all the rest of my favorite singers from way back. My own record collection is 70% blues, so I reckon that basically it’s my biggest influence; the first time I sang creatively was in the mid sixties boom, and I was singing blues then. The songs I write aren’t blues particularly though – they’re written for all sorts of different reasons." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I saw all the rockers when they came through Derby on the package tours. Bo Diddley was the best. I saw Little Richard several times, once on his first tour with Sam Cooke, who was possibly the most amazing singer I ever saw. His voice, in Sheffield City Hall, a big mock Grecian cold hall, was warm and pure, bouncing off the walls at the back. I’d like to have been discovered by Larry Parnes, because I think I’ve got a much better voice than most of his blokes had." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"Little Richard was really a great influence as a singer, a great great singer. Really in moments of deep depression, I always put his records on very loud to remind me of what it is to have that wonderful ability, that great pleasure in your own ability – a joyous singer.

Robert Johnson is no mystery to me, he's just a man singing in the most obvious, the most painful, the most difficult way, about what's going on in his head, and this has often happened to me." (Radio Hilversum, 1980)

"Basically, I observed what was going on around me, and I thought I could it as well, if not better than anyone else. (Melody Maker, May 19 1975)

"As far back as I can remember, kids would say 'Ah yes, that's Kev, he does a grand Fabian imitation.'" (New Musical Express, April 15, 1978)

"My brother used to run a trad jazz club in Derby which had 2,000 members, but he lost interest. Nick [Cudworth] and I both played in local groups, but the nearest things of interest were happening in Birmingham… the early days of Spencer Davis, when John Lee’s 'Dimples' had just come out. Winwood knocked me out… totally… but I can’t say the same for him now I’m afraid.

Derby and Notthingham are traditional enemies… Nottingham is better off; it’s got a theatre and little cinemas and a better shopping centre." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

Nick Cudworth: "This little guy stood up on stage and this incredible voice came out. It was the first time I'd seen a singer and thought: this person is truly amazing. I knew he was special right away. It was – is – the greatest voice I ever heard." (Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Kevin Coyne: "We had a band at Art School why a guy called Nick Cudworth, a keyboards player, who later emerged in Siren in '68." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"Elmore James. What a voice! No bulls from Elmore, just a chain-smoker bellowing his heart out." (Melody Maker, July 19, 1976)

"My favourites blues singers are Robert Johnson, Leroy Carr, Peetie Wheatstraw and Tommy McClennan. The blues has many great performers and it's hard to pick the best." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004)

" I like to mirror the moment and the time. That all sounds very idealistic, but I'm a great believer in that. I learned something from the bluesmen, this kind of attitude. Very open-ended and responding to whatever the day brings really, or life at that time. Sounds all very grand. I think at best it really works. It doesn't sound so manufactured as some pop music efforts sound." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"I never saw myself as an old hippie. I never could identify with that whole period (as much as I could with the punk period). It wasn't aggressive enough for me and it was a little bit too middle class for me. I always regarded myself as a son of the working class, consequently I never identified myself with The Grateful Dead, the whole Sgt. Pepper's scene and the Rolling Stones and 'Their Satanic Majesties Request'… I found all that incredibly boring. I like the old fashioned rock'n'roll really. I still do. Fats Domino will always be much more interesting than John Lennon.('The Unknown Famous', 1997)

"When I was very young, a fat-arsed bingo club manager said: 'You’re going to the top, right to the top, and I’m going to take you there, all the way'. He was the first in a long line of promise makers, the first of the smart alecs. How many other performers have had this? I suppose most of them have. They are everywhere – 10 (and sometimes 25) per centers, bearing lists of imaginary contracts, introduction to famous people, and ideas about 'making it big'. Most of the time their sights are set on pin money, on extra cash for their suburban families, their big spending wives. They’re small-time, greedy and dangerous. And small-time men become big time… What do they care about creativity and commitment?" (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I always see myself as a star, and I think that comes over on stage… the basic confidence and the basic arrogance. I’ve always wanted to be treated like that with some respect, instead of the casual 'who are you?, what are you?'. You get a bit pissed off with reeling your life story off when you’re talking to people – they weren’t there and they haven’t been through all the degradation I’ve been through in terms of just desperately wanting to sing, and putting up with any old crap backing just in order to get a blow, because to me singing is just as natural as all the other bodily functions." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I first really got going in Preston, in the hospital pantomimes and things, and I used to take patients to working mens clubs, where I used to get up on stage to impress everybody. It was a pretty lonely existence up there because you rarely got the right backing… you take pot luck in that sort of place. You’d give them a list of songs and they couldn’t play any of them." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

Robert Ferguson: "I met Kevin in about 1965, when I was 17. He had just started working alongside my mother at the Social Therapy Department of Whittingham Mental Hospital, near Preston in Lancashire and she brought him to our house one evening for a meal. During my summer holidays I worked as his assistant in the department, living with him and his wife Leslie and baby son Eugene at their house in Whittingham. Later they moved to London. I’d been living in France, and when I came back I had nowhere to stay and he and Leslie, who by now had given birth to Robert, let me stay with them again. During the time I was living and working with Kevin I owned a Woolworth’s guitar which I kept in open tuning. In the evenings, usually after we had been down the pub, he would start improvising lyrics to some of the very primitive finger-picking patterns I was capable of playing. Forty years later I found out that for these very modest contributions of mine he had given me co-composer credits on two of his songs: ‘White Horse' is from the Dandelion Years reissue of his classic 'Case History' album, and ‘I Drove Your Car’ from the 1994 release 'Let’s Do It'." (Robert Ferguson's website)

Kevin Coyne: "I was literally aching to sing. I used to get pains in my neck, severe psychosomatic illnesses. It sounds ridiculous but as soon as I started singing regularly, they went. And other ailments came, which shall remain nameless. I always wanted to do it – or did I? No, I didn’t. I resisted it for a long time. I thought my place was with the people on the street – the pain, sharing, whatever. Being a kind of compassionate politician on behalf of other people, which in a way I still am." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I love Tommy McClennan's guitar playing, I don't really care about that anyway, anybody that's seen me playing the guitar knows that's not one of my prime concern. One of my greatest influence as a guitar player is this guy." (Radio Hilversum, 1980)

"I lent an open tuning to the guitar, which some people call 'open-E' or 'Spanish' tuning. And… my tiny hands had trouble making proper chords so I started using my thumb. But originally I used a metal rod to do things like 'Dust My Broom' and Elmore James blues-type numbers. Then I started using my finger instead of a metal slide and it developed on from there, and it's all gotten quite complicated now." (Interview by Chris Plummer, 1998)

"There's a sense of rejection sometimes – people thought: 'Who is this guy? Playing the guitar with his thumb? This is not right!'" ('Loladamusica', 2001)

"Notice my guitar technique: I learnt it from Jimi Hendrix" (live joke).

The Siren years (1969-1971)

"Siren was British blues with an art twist"

From 1969 to 1971, Kevin Coyne was the singer with Siren, one of the last bands of the British blues boom. Initially courted by Blue Horizon, the English blues label that put Fleetwood Mac on the map, Siren were finally signed by John Peel's Dandelion Records. In the U.S., they were handled by Elektra, President and fan Jac Holzman even considering Coyne for The Doors, the very day after Jim Morrison's death.

'Siren' and 'Strange Locomotion' are two really good albums of blues and English-style boogie, along with some beautiful ballads, certain of which ('Asylum') already suggest the tormented songs of later solo albums. Nick Cudworth's magnificent piano work leads the group through some tasty boogie-woogie while Coyne puts himself and his lyrics through their paces. He is feeling for his voice. It sounds promising.
In 1994, Siren bassist and producer Dave Clague released three CDs of studio out-takes. 'Rabbits' and 'Let's Do It' explore similar bluesy territory but 'The Club Rondo' is a neglected little masterpiece. Almost entirely improvised in one studio session. Cudworth and Clague keep up a monotonous drone while Coyne lets rip with lyrics, sketches, ditties, Bavarian marches and dialogues with comic provincial English accents. Then, suddenly anticipating 'Case History', comes 'Our Jack', the terrible story of a young mental patient, told by his mother. Stupefying and dazzling.
In 2005, Clague released another rather anecdotal outakes album, 'Ruffstuff'. Cherry Red Records had the good idea of releasing all the Siren singles in their 2006 'John Peel's Dandelion-The Complete Dandelion Records Singles Collection 1969-1972' 3 CD-box. Finally, in 2007, Cherry Red Records again issued a wonderfully remastered 3 CD-box: 'Kevin Coyne The Dandelion Years 1969-1972', featuring 'Siren', 'Strange Locomotion', 'Case History' and a couple of Siren rarities.

Kevin Coyne: "It all started out at Art College in Derby – me putting an ad on the notice board; wanting to form a college blues band,, all interested persons to turn up. Nick [Cudworth] turned up as a drummer, playing a bit of piano on the side, and from that, things just built up… you get to like people, you know. Unless I wanted to do a totally solo thing, I’d always call on Nick for backing, because nobody plays as well as him… you’ve really got to see him at his best, pumping away in a pub or something, to realise how good he is. He’s also an interesting guitarist, I think, with lots of melodic ideas. Tat Meager was from Cheltenham, like Brian Jones. I met Tat through Dave [Clague], who lived with him, and I met Dave through Nick, who wrote me a letter saying he’d met this bloke in a pub who used to be in the Bonzo Dog Band – he wanted to form a band and make some tapes. I was living in Preston, working in a mental hospital, and I came down and had a blow with them. John Chichester was our first guitarist, but he left and I don’t know much about him. We also had this agent, Graham Wood, who got us a few gigs – he did his best, but he thought we were a rock’n’roll revival type band, and we’re not really into that. We’ve never had an agent since. We did get a few gigs ourselves, and we went up to Mothers with John Peel and did a gig without a drummer. And we never had a manager, though Dave did the job for a while" (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I aspire sometimes to being a poet, and Nick [Cudworth] aspires to being a guitarist, but whether the results are acceptable, I’m not too sure." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I was very much concerned to get a sense of language across and a picture of the world as I saw it. That remained pretty well unchanged when I transferred from Siren to being a solo artist. Siren as such didn't really exist. We did some gigs, but it would fairly fluctuate… the root of it really was Nick Cudworth, the piano player. He and I lived together for a couple of years in a flat in London. We did most of the songs, really. He was a bluesman. I met him at Art school in the early '60s, and Clague was the man with the music business connections, having been once in the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. He knew a bit about how to get on, and how to get record contracts and things." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"I did quite a bit of painting, on and off, and whatever else happens to me, I’ll still draw and paint – but I got really disillusioned with the whole art exhibition business, so I didn’t carry on with it. It is similar with the pop business really – it’s not what you know, but who you know.

I studied fine-art and the only thing to do was teach or something. I had an interview with a headmaster who said 'you’re not very big – we’ve got some big lads here… you won’t do'. So I became a bus conductor and then moved on to Preston and I’ve been in mental welfare work ever since. Although I find it very exhausting and painful, I feel it’s the necessary thing for me to do… maybe I need the patients as much as they need me. In fact I probably think and worry about it at certain times more than I do about the music, but if things went right musically, I think I’d get out, because I long to get on a stage. At the moment, I’m incredibly frustrated because I can’t do it very often." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

Dave Clague: "We felt we had potential and took steps to realise it by getting Kev down, and by recording some tapes." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

Kevin Coyne: "After about a week I got a phone call at the hospital I was working in telling me Blue Horizon were interested, so we went and talked to Mike Vernon and did some tapes at CBS but we didn’t sign. I think Harvest was the next port of call then Dandelion." (Sounds, April 24, 1976)

John Peel: "I used to live in Central London and people would come there and leave records and demo tapes and things at the door. And one day I came back and there's this demo tape of a band called 'Coyne-Clague', had been put through the letter box, and I listened to it and really liked it and I had to leave a note on the door and indeed I went out and stuck a few notes on lampposts in the area, saying something like 'If you're the person who left a demo tape in my house, please get in touch'" (Sounds, July 26 1975)

Clive Selwood: "After John Peel got the first demo tape, he lost Kevin's address and telephone number, and charged all over London, pasting up notices asking him to get in touch. I said: 'You could have rung me' but John said: 'No. It was more urgent than that.'" (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

Dave Clague: "John [Peel]’s idea is that if it’s good, it should be released — he doesn’t think along any commercial lines — so Dandelion put both out at once, using the tapes we’d made as the masters. But they made a mistake on the label – instead of calling us 'Coyne/Clague', they just put 'Clague', and as well as that, the promotion by CBS wasn’t too marvellous" (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

Kevin Coyne: "One of Peel’s ideas in Dandelion was bring a tape, make a record. A great idea really. I can make some great albums. I know exactly where to go." (Liquorice, 1976)

"We approached John Peel, who said, 'Let’s do it immediately'. The result was he put all four songs as two singles on the same day. Most people, even in England, do not realize the influence John Peel has had on music there. With Dandelion, he actually set a precedent for these small labels that are cropping up now, like Stiff. And he’s interested only in the music. That’s why I liked working with him. I’m not about making money. The music I make is not about making money." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

John Peel: "'Progressive rock' was a classic misnomer, 'cause the one distinctive feature of it was that it shouldn't progress. It's like cornflakes. Nothing wrong with that you know? I can understand it from a kind of marketing point of view, but at the same time I just thought, hearing some sharp, snappy tunes… the rolling piano and everything… I just liked the way, on the faster numbers, they just kind of pranced along. […] Siren just came as a breath of fresh air really, in the same way that like a generation later The Ramones did. When you just thought 'Thank God for that!'. You hadn't realized how bored you'd become." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Kevin Coyne: "'The Stride' was a very early Coyne/Clague and was a sort of attempt to recreate a rock’n’roll sound of the late 50’s with the piano and everything. We wrote it in about three minutes in Dave’s bedroom, and the idea behind it came from ‘The Stroll’ by The Diamonds. I wanted a combination of the Joe Turner kind of sound, the more commercial elements of late 50’s rock, and a song about 'Do the so and so', so we borrowed ideas from various sources. But I’d sung myself to death the night before, and the vocal isn’t exactly as I’d have liked it." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

"The Dandelion label is being distributed by Elektra in America, and Jac Holzman, their president, seemed to think that our old name was too much of a mouthful for the Americans. So we changed it to 'Siren', rather than 'Coyne/Clague'." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

Jac Holzman: "The band which blew the cobwebs out of my head."

Kevin Coyne: "People up North, they believe everything they read in the Melody Maker without questioning anyone’s values, and buy hyped records just to keep in the stream of what’s new. I reckon we could get up with any of these hype groups and blast them off the stage – especially on rock material." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

"There’s such a vast number of records coming out now, and they’re so expansive. I mean, if it were me, I don’t know if I’d rush out and buy Stackwaddy or Siren or any of these people, I don’t buy new records anyway. A lot of uncertain fourteen year old wouldn’t really understand our music anyway – who’s going to understand a song like 'Relaxin with Bonnie Lou' if they’re not 26 or over? I think that age has a lot to do with my writing and attitude; I’m so basically steeped in that magical era when we all bought London American singles… that time has never been equalled. On the other hand, some of our songs, like 'Asylum', 'I wonder where' and 'Some dark Day' have nothing to do with rock’n’roll really – they’re just personal statements.

Going back to age, a fourteen year old will have very little to identify with in music like ours, and we don’t go in for extended solos – not that we couldn’t, but we don’t feel we should. My influence is all consuming, and I’m a bit of a dead weight on occasions because of my obsession with a style of singing and a style of lyric, which are both dated in relation to today." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"Siren’s albums were recorded on stolen time, whenever there was an engineer available." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"The first Siren album… inept, I would say, in the main for me. […] That studio was actually, I think, controlled by the Kray brothers secretly." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"We once got £50 – that was at Sunderland Locarno, but it was a long way to sing songs of pain and hate to twelve years old." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70 )

"The only interview I did before this one was the previous one in Zigzag. I’d like to be interviewed more often, especially in Melody Maker, which I despise and hate. It’s evil. We got a terrible review for our album, and I don’t mind saying that at all. It seemed to be written with the intention of offending and distressing people… that’s all the review was – a personal attack, and the one before that was just as abysmal. Melody Maker was totally unfair, a right sod.… He’d pretty obviously not even listened to the record for a start… I mean, how anyone could describe the songs as unbelievably primitive, I will never know." (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"I really think I’m a better vocalist than almost anybody I see on stage. I want people to read your magazine and challenge me; say 'Come along and prove it if you’re as good as you say you are.'" (Zig Zag Mag #21, probably 1969 or 70)

"Dandelion was a good example of an idealist. Really fucked up to some extent by laziness, by unawareness of the time involvement in record company." (Liquorice, 1978)

"Some of those early Siren things… you've got to remember, they were recorded in living rooms and kitchens, really, and the most primitive form of studio. Most of it wasn't really intended ever to be put out, although Dave Clague seems to have cornered the market in that and put most of them out [on his DJC label]. I don't agree necessarily with that. I think I would have been a lot more selective. Much of it was fooling around, at least half of it. But as you can gather from that, it was very spontaneous, really. Some of it works, some of it doesn't. I tend to work on that principle to this day, really." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"They were never serious recordings. Well, 50% of them were, but some of them were done at odd things like in the middle of the night at the Africa branch of the World Service on a 1-track or something. But it was all wild and wonderful then. I mean, it was all very enthusiastic. […] I quite like them. I like them better than the official albums, really. I think they've got several sort of gaping holes and things that don't work but the spirit of the thing is closer, to me, than on the albums." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

John Peel: "I produced some of the Dandelion records, which meant I just sat in the studio and the engineer told me what he was doing. 'Cause we had to do them in, like, a day. I mean, we didn't have that much money." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Kevin Coyne: "'Strange Locomotion' was a better album. In those days I used to write the lyrics down quite carefully and dutifully sing them. And it shows, really. It's a little less spontaneous than later efforts. I just remember we were all, you know, several pints at lunchtime and in for evening sessions." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

John Peel: "The one thing I very much regret – something which we really wanted to do – was when Nick Cudworth and Kevin used to come round, and they would tell us about this pub in Derby where they used to hang out, and the people who were in there. And it’s full of, like, one-eyed, one-legged men, you know. I mean, we just used to sit and laugh and laugh. I wish to God I could have just put a microphone there and have recorded that. I would have put it out as an LP. It was just so funny. I regret not having done that." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Kevin Coyne: "My main memory is of the way John Peel used to press £10 notes into my hand, for the homeless kids I was working with. He operates on basic Christian principles; he's an enthusiast in both senses of the word. I think he feels he's missed something of the working-class life, there's a side of him that would love to be out with the lads in a back street in Burrow-in-Furness, breaking things. I always wanted to tell him it doesn't really matter where you come from. I regard him as a great friend. From a distance." (Sunday Correspondant, 5 Nov 1989)

"John Peel's record collection threatened to overtake his Suffolk home. But in a small, battered wooden box, the much-loved DJ kept a precious selection of 7 inch singles that meant more to him than any of the others. ['The Stride/I wonder where' single by Coyne-Clague was one of them.]" (timesonline.com)

Kevin Coyne: "Siren’s short career involved much good humour and lots of heartfelt music. It was a memorable time. There's people all around the world, judging by letters I receive, who love both the Siren and 'Case History' albums. It's most gratifying…" (Michael Heatley, liner notes to the 'Kevin Coyne Dandelion Box Set' )

"In 2003, Messrs Coyne, Clague and Cudworth were reunited on the stage of the Buttermarket in Shrewsbury for a one-off Siren reunion. ‘Strange Locomotion’, ‘Sixteen Women’, ‘Gardener Man’, ‘Ze-Ze-Ze-Ze’ and ‘Cheat Me’ were played of the material here, with ‘The Stride’ and ‘Relaxing With Bonnie Lou’ as encores." (Michael Heatley, liner notes to the 'Kevin Coyne Dandelion Box Set')

Gardner Man, from 'Siren'

The day Coyne was asked to fill Jim Morrison’s shoes…

"I hadn't fancied wearing the leather pants"

Kevin Coyne: "All I know is that my manager rang me up one morning and said how d’you feel about joining the Doors? I said, 'Huh? Oh… very good'. And then it all petered out really. I thought Jac Holzman thought I was mad. I think he honestly thought I was crazy or something, maybe because of my attitude to the business." (Sounds, April 24, 1976)

"The day after Jim Morrison died, Clive Selwood from Elektra Records asked me to become the lead singer of the Doors. At that time, I thought the Doors were rubbish, so I declined. My then lodger in my old flat in Clapham thought I was mad and the rest of the world probably agrees with him." (The Morning Star, Apr 7 1999)

“It was a murky morning in London when he died. I was asked by the European boss of Elektra to join the Doors. I was rather negative about it. I had two young kids at the time and was reasonably happy. Plus, I like to do my own thing.” (beermelodies.com, 2000)

"I think they're crap!… Brendan, do you think I made a bad career move?" (Quoted by Brendan Croker, 2002)

"I didn't show much enthusiasm."

"It seemed a bit soon after the event – he was barely dead. I didn't really like the idea. I was married with two kids and looking to make my own name – not from the death of somebody else." (Jim McGuinness, 2002)

"Jac Holzman was a fan of Siren, but he became disillusioned when he came to England and there was a gig organized and we were all drunk. I don't think Jac appreciated that, and after that, when the Jim Morrison idea came up, maybe he put the markers on it and stopped it at the last minute or something, because I was certainly asked, but I didn't show too much enthusiasm anyway, so I guess the thing fizzled out rather rapidly." (La Folia, 2001)

"Jac Holzman came in specially to meet me and he said to me: 'Kevin, you're one of the ten great singers in the world.' This was a long time before I was anything. He had some vision anyway because I think I am. And then, I let him down, I got pissed. They put some money into the situation and we just blew it and threw it away. This was an anarchy situation – a thing which I agree on occasions. 'Cause he was far too pompous about everything. So I went down to Warner Bros Records, the distributors of Elektra at the time, at 10 o'clock in the morning – it was all very serious. And then, Jack Holzman decided against me, because I let him down a year ago. £2,000 had disappeared down the drain. Now he's a millionaire – you can't work with people like that anyway, and I'm glad he said no. He said he thought I was even madder than Jim Morison. So how can you work… I mean Jim Morrison wasn't mad, he was a great man, no doubt about it." (De Lanteren, 1979)

"The fact of the matter is, it's true really. Maybe I should have shown more enthusiasm, maybe I would have got the job, I don't know. But certainly the fact that the early Siren things came out on Elektra [the Doors' label] was a connection. All I know is that nothing more was heard of it after not showing a great deal of interest. Probably [they] thought I was an ungrateful swine or something. But I really didn't fancy it anyway. […] Such are the machinations of the record industry. Not much sentiment around. There wasn't any question of 'Poor old Jim, let's give him a bit of a rest now'. It was like, got to keep the money wheels turning, keep the cash registers going. It was certainly, almost the next day, I would say. It was certainly within a few days. But anyway, as I say, such is the music business. " (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"It was maybe the day he died – just shows you how much compassion there in is the music business…" (WFMU 1999)

"I didn't much like the Doors at the time. In retrospect, they were good, I think, but I didn't like them at the time. […] He's a good-looking guy, there's all that, isn't there. A real teen idol. He wasn't much a singer, that's for sure, but he had his own way." (La Folia 2001)

"I recently did an interview for a German Doors fanzine (which is very typically German…), about a six-page interview… Basically, I wasn't really interested to be honest. Sounds ridiculous now doesn't it? I could've been rich!" (Mary Costello show, 1990)

John Peel: "When Jim Morrison died, there's this famous story about Kevin Coyne… The Doors tried to persuade Kevin to become the new Jim Morrison, but anybody less suited to that role, it's hard to imagine…" (Sounds, July 26 1975)

Kevin Coyne: "The thought of those leather trousers put me off as much anything"

Social work years (1965-1969)

"Looking back, I never stopped being a social worker"

Kevin Coyne: My brother Arthur's nervous breakdown was probably the main motivating point for me getting concerned with helping what society would refer to as the 'insane'. Just watching people in your family – people you look up to, admired, and… loved, of course – being trampled down, being brutalised simply because they happened to be sensitive. It has to affect you." (NME, April 15, 1978)

"The impetus for working in the hospital was really born out of family situations and problems. I started working in therapy as a student and was initially called and 'education worker', although I was really doing lots of different things. I would play football with the patients, conduct art classes, even set up the Christmas pantomime. It really wore me out after four years. I moved into an area I didn’t understand. It was a big hospital, about 2,500-3,000 patients, and it was almost like a big toy, a big township of supposedly crazy people. People in a state of pain will never admit they’re in a slide like that. So I charged in there and tried to change their situation, although in retrospect, I might have done things differently. I went back there about two years ago to do a documentary for a series on Granada television and all the patients came up and embraced me. I guess I must have made an impression." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"I was an art therapist. I thought: Well, if I can't make anything as an artist, I might as well do something which is some service to the community'. Sounds very idealistic but I was idealistic… I put on exhibitions of patients work. I learned a lot from it. You got guys like bank managers with schizophrenia interludes, suddenly painting large bunny rabbits and strange things they would never had done if they had been, I suppose, 'well'." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I remember… God, I remember one of the doctors saying to me 'Just get a bucketful of Largactyl (an oft-used form of medication that turns into little more than a zombie) and that'd keep the lot of 'em happy for months'. It was disgusting, just having to observe all the petty conniving and trickery going on. All sorts of pilfering, trying to steal the patients' money, all the little rip-offs. They didn't give a damn, y' know… 'Oh here's your medication, luv. That'll keep you quiet'. By the end of my stay I was the only one still trying to do something positive there. It was just so obvious, really, even though in practise it could be so… so heartbreaking. Just spending time with them, showing you cared even a little. Just talking to them. Actually, after I left, there was a big inquiry convened to look into the running of the place." (New Musical Express, April 15, 1978)

"The main trouble was, Siren never got organised; it would have made a hell of a difference if we had. Our own lives were difficult enough to organise though; I’d just got away from four gruelling years of working in a mental hospital. I was working there because I’d had some contact with mental diseases in my own family, and was very conscious of my own inadequacies in dealing with that sort of thing, I applied for the job in New Statesman, and to my surprise I got it." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

"Every so often, I’d get calls from the morgue to go and view the corpses of people who had become my friends…"

"Left my job at the Mental Health place in Camden Town all behind. I received some severe punishment there in terms of brain and physical damage, and I couldn’t take too much more of it anyway. I shall probably return to it anyway. When I have had a good rest." (Zig Zag Mag #36 (1973?)

"I was rather glad to at the time because I was pretty exhausted. I'd worked very hard. A lot of my – what shall I say? – principles, my beliefs in humanity had been somewhat shattered, so I needed to do something else. I mean, I had a good taste of the music business before anyway, with Dandelion, and I met a few typical examples of what the music business can do to people. So I was very much aware of the dangers but… the money's better, so that was a very practical reason, being a family man as well. And it's worked out pretty well. Been a bit slow in parts but it's getting better all the time… I've always considered myself to be artistically very natural. It's a thing I've needed to do, you know. A relief-giver." (NME, 27 March 1976)

"A lot of people fell this great desire to mingle with the strain and pain, not knowing that it’s best to stay out of it really. Investigate your own situation first. There are your mother and father reaching out to be kissed and you go: 'Here’s this bloke I don’t know who’s in trouble. I’ll kiss him. Give him a big hug.' It’s much easier to recognize the evil coming from the world outside.

I suppose I got tired of fighting. I was achieving sort of 50/50 situations all the time, not so much as compromises as not having the necessary beef, not having that 24-hours-a-day dedication to take the thing right over the edge. I’m not a Lenin or a Marx. I wanted to be out there with placards. I wanted to bring it all down, but… well, in a way I still do." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I've written about it in on paper – essays, compositions I suppose one could describe them as – about some of the people. But… song-wise, the nearest I can get is 'Uggy's Song' on 'Case History'. But that's more to do with police brutality, that particular song. I suppose 'All the Battered Babies' too, which relates to that time of my life, working closely with kids from Piccadilly and stuff. That's basically what I'm trying to say there. I believe people, because of the lack of love a a child, they resort to things like drugs. It's loneliness, isn't it? And so many of my things are about loneliness…" (Sounds, April 14, 1979)

"If the ones that were supposedly sane had to go in themselves to help out and assist their less-fortunate brethren, if every sane man and woman were called up to go, there’d be a great sharing of universal agony. A great deal more insight." (Liquorice, 1976)

"People I’ve met in mental hospitals who can play instruments and sing with power and feelings that probably most people in the 'outside' world can’t. Because they just don’t have that release thing that a lot of so-called mad people have." (Liquorice, 1976)

"It changed my way of thinking as a painter, working with these people. I like the way they work. What they did helped them because they did it for a reason. They had a reason to do it and I think when I write a song, or paint a picture or write a story, I really have a reason to do it. I have to do it, in fact. It's a driven thing, you know." (Charleston Gazette, 2000)

"I remember a doctor saying to me when I was a therapist, 'Yes Kevin, it's all very well, the marvel of their creativity. But you must remember they are suffering.'" (The Independent, 2001)

"I’m going to do a thing with Ian Breakwell at the Open Space Theatre. He has done a lot of work with happenings and things, and I’ve got this idea for a musical about institutions and asylums, which is a fascinating subject. It won’t be like 'Hair' or 'Catch my Soul', but virtually a solo thing from my point of view. I’ll do all the singing and talking, with maybe a few odd guys wandering about in the background. It’s a fairly depressing subject, not the sort of thing for an LP – though certain songs might be organised enough to get recorded – and most of it will be based on spontaneity, which is my forte, because I hate to be restricted by other people’s doubts and limitations, especially musically. I suppose I’m the most musically limited person on this earth, but you can get around it with a lot of energy and shouting." (Zig Zag Mag #9, 1969?)

"We did some things with Ian Breakwell at the ICA last February or March. A theatrical thing was a sort of pastiche of life in a mental hospital. It worked very well on and off, but it was a very hit and miss kind of thing. There was quite a bit of musc in it, and words." (Zig Zag Mag #36, 1973?)

"The main incentive is always to make a living. I saw this thing on TV the other night. This comedian was on and he really said it all for me. His thing was that he didn't want to go back to being a welder. Well, it's the same for me. I don't want to go back to being an art teacher. I work on the principle that you win in the end. But it's never quite how you envision it." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"Of course people do go mad but it's other people who often drive them… There's one or two people having witnessed my performance who would say: 'He's mad'. I can imagine the father of the family, who's just come in from a hard day in the factory, whenever the program shows: 'Mad'… (Rockpalast, 1979)

'Case History' (1972)

"It's not just an album, it's a whole period of my life"

Recorded in an afternoon and a single take in a little Twickenham studio, 'Case History' is one of those incredible albums that contain such power and intensity they become almost difficult to listen to. Dandelion released it just as it was, without embellishment or overdubs (as Jeffrey 'Anti-Folk' Lewis told Kevin when they met in 2004, it is 'very low-fi, very raw').
Fuelled by his experiences as a social worker and therapist, Coyne describes the lives of the mentally ill, the social outcasts. Solo on most of the songs and accompanied by members of Siren on the rest, Kevin's delivery immediately sounds as if he had twenty years of experience behind him.
From the beautiful melody of 'White Horse', through the shrill onomatapoeia of 'Araby' to the howls of 'Mad Boy', his vocal palette is already of impressive richness and range. The bouncy 'God Bless the Bride' is a reprise of Siren, while the dreamlike universe of 'White Horse' is ostensibly calm and serene, yet somehow awkward. This dreamy delirium leaves a sense of disquiet but 'Uggy's Song', where Cudworth's pretty arpeggios are replaced by Coyne's savage acoustic strumming, grabs you by the throat. It tells the life of a black tramp beaten by the police, who call him Uggy 'because they thought he was ugly'. The two main poles of the Coyne Universe are here: a compelling tenderness for his outsider friends and a revolt against the indifference of the world towards them.
So Coyne remains the social worker, bearing witness. In a few years, cornered by his own demons, he himself would come close to madness.
'Sand All Yellow' recounts a psychiatric case where Coyne switches voices to evoke patient and doctor, against a hypnotic backing, all in all quite disturbing.
This album marked the appearance of the trademark minimalist Coyne guitar style: an open-tuned acoustic across his knees, his thumb barring the strings while his right hand beat out a frenzied rhythm. ('Evil Island Home' is one amazing example). This primitive guitar, the fiery voice; the ingredients were there to establish Coyne as a major artist, one who would later be described as 'the only British musician who ever really had the blues'. Blues, yes, but it was provincial working class blues, grimy pub blues, complete with dominant mother, abused children, alcoholic father and other horrors: the blues of a certain time and place. Unfortunately, the demise of Dandelion Records blew any chance of the record's success. Still, 'Case History' is one of the greats. It belongs with Syd Barrett's 'The Madcap Laughs', or Nick Drake's 'Pink Moon'. One of those timeless albums that after thirty years can still send shivers down your spine.

Kevin Coyne: "I was disillusioned after Siren didn't go over. I thought if that is the record business, I don’t want to know about it. I went back to therapy for two years, although I kept singing in pubs.

I did those songs in three hours in a studio at Wimbledon. I went there with my wife and manager Clive Selwood. The thing with that album is that I did it totally my way. After I heard what I’d recorded, I wasn’t at all sure I should put it out. But John Peel put his foot down and said 'release it'. In retrospect, I think it is depressing. I listen to it now with some anguish. It’s sort of a diary thing. I just don’t think like that anymore. I’m not quite desperate now as I was then." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"I was really depressed over Christmas, and as you can see on that record I’m pretty close to some sort of nervous breakdown anyway. I was in a pretty bad state… had to pack up my job and everything. I couldn’t see any way out – why doesn’t anybody listen to me? – I’d been writing and painting all my life and I thought, Christ, nobody even knows. I mean, I’m not a businessman, I’m just a bloody artist, you know." (." Sounds, April 24, 1976)

"The albums biggest highlight is 'Evil Island Home'. Never ever ever ever have I heard a song so full of hopelessness. It's all in Coyne's voice as he screams the chorus, 'Here is my home. My evil island home.' I just die with him as I hear that. Combine that with a reverb soaked, schizo blues guitar and you have pure gold. It's beyond me as to why this song never garnered any sort of notoriety in the least, even among hardcore music lovers. I think Coyne would have wanted it that way anyway." (headheritage.co.uk 2004)

Kevin Coyne: "I went down to a little studio in Wimbledon, in an old church or something. I literally went down on the bus, with my wife and a guitar, and recorded the whole thing in about four hours. And then Peel, once again, rushed to my aid and said 'It's marvelous, you don't need to put anything on it, just put it out'. He could have interfered with those songs no end really, but he literally put it straight out." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Clive Selwood: "'Case History' is the finest album I ever produced and which still moves me to tears. Kevin Coyne was an extraordinary performer" (Cherry Red website)

Kevin Coyne: "The album reflects my work in Whitingham psychiatric hospital and as a social worker for the Soho project in London. The intensity of it all reflects my concern and passion for the problems of the underdog. It's dedicated to the unfortunate among us. One of the songs, 'Uggy's Song', is about a black tramp who was teased and eventually murdered by, I think, the police in Leeds in the early 70s. I read about this case and decided to write the song. The memory of the event still haunts me today." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004, published in Mental Health magazine, Feb 2005)

"Looking back, I never stopped being a social worker." (Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Evil Island Home

'Marjory Razorblade' (1973)

"...Oh what a picture she made..."

Wiser after the flop of laid back, hippie Dandelion, Coyne signed with Virgin Records, then the new 'indie' label. Kevin was the second signing, after Mike Oldfield. It was even suggested that Kevin might add vocals to 'Tubular Bells', which he wisely declined!
Backed by Virgin's clout, Coyne was finally about to show the world what he could do. The album was recorded in a few days at Manor Studios, initially as demos with Dave Clague from Siren, then with session musicians assembled for the occasion. Some of them would form the first Kevin Coyne Band.
After Kevin, the album's hero is Gordon Smith, the great acoustic slide guitarist (he'd released the album 'Long Overdue' on the Blue Horizon label). The sound and cohesiveness of the album are largely down to him; the arpeggios of 'Everybody Says', the slide of 'House on the Hill'. Smith is the ideal accompanist; supportive yet modest, brilliant yet subtle.
Over thirty years on, 'MRB' remains the flagship Kevin Coyne album, delivering some of his most famous songs: the moving 'Talking to No One', 'Eastbourne Ladies' and 'House on the Hill', but also the comic 'Karate King' and 'Good Boy'. Or 'This is Spain', a satire of the paranoid British holidaymaker who perceives Spain as primitive and hostile.
Hungry for studio time, frustrated by the demise of Siren but sure of his ability, Kevin threw body and soul into this record, a double album of rare inventiveness. He was convinced fame was round the corner and freely declared: 'I really think I'm a better vocalist than almost anybody I see on stage' and 'I'm quite prepared to take on the whole world.'
He was also very demanding and unwilling to compromise. The record's opener, for example, where he wails a-capella 'Marjory's' morbid lament, must have put more than one listener to flight and helped create his reputation as a mentally ill alcoholic. The Virgin bigwigs probably tore their hair out trying to persuade him to open with the catchy 'Marlene'. But the stubborn Coyne would always defend the integrity of his work at all costs, even at the risk of scuppering his career.
The album was reissued in 2010 as a 2-cd pack with bonus tracks.

Kevin Coyne: "I thought, well, that’s it – for a bit anyway. I’ll just lay around and see – I know somebody’s gonna ring me up. And sure enough about a week later I got a call from Virgin." (Sounds, April 24, 1976)

"I thought it was just a record shop." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"Virgin do much of what Dandelion did, the principles are very much the same but they have so much more knowledge, so much more genuine intuition about things. There's money too. Wonderful chain of shops…" (Capitol Radio, 1974)

"I think there were quite mixed feelings about what I should do and what I wanted to do. They at Virgin Records had all listened to 'Case History' which is not just an album – it’s a whole period of my life I’m very glad was recorded on record but is at the same time not very easy to listen to for many people. I think they just wanted to tie the words in with something strong and melodic so I think they originally indicated that I should write with somebody else, and my first view of the Manor [recording studio] was listening to some of Mike Oldfield’s tapes and trying to work out a connection there, but he’s a very different person to me." (Zig Zag Mag #36, 1973?)

"The feeling at Virgin was: 'Give it a go and the freedom of the Manor is yours,' so I initially went down with Dave Clague and tried a few things out. We did some demos, we just worked out some songs, and it all started from there. We were there for about two days and we did eleven tracks, just guitar and second guitar" (Zig Zag Mag #36, 1973?)

Gordon Smith: “The first lot was at the Manor, and we went down to Worthing, to a studio down there. And also there was another one in Chipping Norton which, coincidentally, was something to do with Blue Horizon. They were involved with that studio where we did the last session with Jean Roussel on the keyboards.” (Interview with Clive Product, 2007)

Kevin Coyne: "I signed for Virgin records. 'Marjory Razorblade' was my first attempt. It was a double album full of my best efforts of explaining myself. I’ll admit I was extremely lonely. It came as a shock when people started to listen. 'Marjory' still is just a little private." (1976)

"I can’t pretend to be starving. Virgin have helped me and have a lot to be proud of in that respect. They saved me at that time (the fading of Dandelion into fresh air) from total obscurity. But I think something else would have turned up anyway. I know I am an important songwriter and I know that what I do will reach more people." (Liquorice, 1976)

"Richard Branson was just into money. Not obviously at first, because he seems a very nice bloke. I always find him very amiable and easy to talk to – if nervy, like his mind's on other things. He seems a man with a heart. Till I realised I'd never received any royalty statements. It was a shambles in that respect." (The Independent, 2001)

"I knew Richard Branson had very little interest in rock music. I think the only tune he ever knew was 'Green grow the Rushes'. I think he always confused me with Captain Beefheart, he thought we were the same people." (Radio Darby, 1990)

"Richard Branson certainly made some money. He can’t say he didn’t. I know 'Marjory Razorblade' and 'Millionaires and Teddybears' sold very well, and continue to do so – if available. No I won’t have it, I didn’t lose any money for Virgin at all, I very much dispute that. He’s very casually dismissive of business failure, you know and it’s not true. I cost very little to record, almost nothing and whatever, I’ve never understood the logic behind it. I think it suits his image to say these sort of things." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"I was always told 'Well, you're in debt, you know, you recorded at the Manor Studio and it costs', you've got no way of checking. But you've been doing gigs and there's a decent crowd there, you're selling albums in some way, that's what I always thought. The high points, I played in all the big theatres, including the Olympia in Paris, and you know it was not a particularly big crowd that day but lots of places packed and you wonder: 'All these people, they're buying these fucking records!'. You walk in all the shops and here they are. And I was very naive you know." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

Mick Brown: "I was with Richard [Branson] a couple of years ago. He turned to me and said: 'You know the one I really loved? Kevin Coyne. He was amazing.'" (Quoted by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Kevin Coyne: "You say yes… when Richard Branson rings up… He's a mutli-millionaire. It takes a very strong person to say no. When you haven't got much money. But I think it's very different now. But is it really different? There's still the same sharks out there and still people enter the music business, there's no book, there's no money, they all think they can do anything. Oh easy money! I had a lot of guys, I had gangsters running my life and all sorts… one of them is in prison now. It was all a challenge and I certainly don't regret any of it but if I started now, I wouldn't know what the hell to do, so I'd do exactly what I did before, because I didn't know a thing." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

"I thought 'Case History' was good. In comparison to what was going down at the time, it was very strong. But you couldn’t even buy it anywhere for a start. Somewhere along the line it got strangulated. And it was a bit hard to come back after that. I did a tour of Europe with the Dandelion people and it was very successful in its own way, and I thought I was getting through, but I came back to England, as has happened so many times, and there was nothing. No mention of the album, no reviews, nothing. I got very upset. I cracked at that point. I didn’t go down but I became very sad and self-absorbed for a long time… something I try and avoid now. I thought, what’s the point, they don’t deserve it. Virgin came along, and I was determined to go back into the studio and show everybody. I still had a lot to say, still have, and I wanted to get it down. If the Pistols were angry, shit, I certainly was when I made 'Marjory Razorblade'. (1979)

"'Marjory Razorblade' really overlaps with my London experience, after the hospital. There’s more of a universality to the songs; they are as much about people on the outside who have the same kind of problems. That’s one thing I always try to do, that is to write about real people." (1978)

"Gordon Smith, Tony Cousins, Jean Roussel, Chili Charles arrived at the sessions and I liked them. That became the band." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

Gordon Smith: “I was working in a Virgin record shop in Notting Hill Gate. I´m not sure exactly how we got together. Kevin had heard of me, obviously, through my Blue Horizon stuff. Well, we met, we hit it off. We became good friends. And, at the time, I was having trouble with my girlfriend. I moved in with Kevin in his house in Clapham. It was a big flat in Clapham and they gave me a room. I took my trunk, my possession, to his place. I didn´t really stay there very long. I used to stay there on odd days. I was going back and forwards to my girlfriend´s, and going back to Kevin´s place. Most of the time I was drinking a lot and doing other things… I remember playing music in Kevin´s flat, just the two of us with acoustic guitars.” (Interview with Clive Product, 2007)

Tony Cousins: "The first time I met him would have been when Simon [Draper] said one day, ‘Do you wanna go and play bass with this guy Kevin’ about whom I and Gordon [Smith] didn’t know, and I said, ‘Well of course, why not, it’s worth a go isn’t it’. And we went up on a Sunday. That was the first time I would have met him, and also drummer Chili [Charles]. Chili was Trinidadian and he had a girlfriend who was working there, and he was just living there I think, while he was trying to find his feet. In the same way as Simon knew that I played bass, he knew that Chili was a drummer. So he said, ‘Why don’t you play drums?’ It was literally that ad hoc. I mean, the drum kit that Chili had, it wasn’t even a complete drum kit. It was just bits that he found there, that either people had left or that were just available." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Gordon Smith: "He was a prolific songwriter. He just used to make songs up on the spot. I wasn’t a songwriter myself, I was a blues guitar player, and it just seemed that we fitted in perfectly." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "My favourite track is a thing called 'House on the Hill' which has a lot of dobro style steel playing from Gordon [Smith]. This is a track that really moves me to tears.

I think the album is an entity as a whole, and that’s why if you lift a piece out, it sounds sort of undressed. That’s why I say 'Marlene' should be heard following on from 'Marjorie Razorblade', which is a takeoff of an old Music Hall pub singer singing, and then into 'Marlene'. It works beautifully you know, and I keep wanting to hear 'Marjorie Razorblade' before, but it would never get any plays". (Zig Zag Mag #36, 1973?)

"This is a song called 'House on the Hill' - if you're depressed, this will make you feel worse". (Live talk, 2001)

Gordon Smith: Kevin always said I was the blues part of the band. Kevin obviously wrote all the songs, or most of them, so we just had to put our stamp on it. It was a great little band! It used to rock!” (Interview with Clive Product, 2007)

Kevin Coyne: "I really didn't recognize how the hell I'd managed to do this ['House on the Hill']. It was done in one take. There was not a single fault in the recording of that song." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"I write to state the case, like on 'House on the Hill' about an asylum, I felt it important to write about it as I'd been in one so I did. It's not a condemning picture, it's an admission that madness is quite uncontrollable and that there has to be some facility to accommodate these people. Having been mad myself I know that without the concern of the people around me I would have been 'placed away' quite quickly." (Soundmaker, Feb 26 1983)

"'House on the Hill' from 'Marjory Razorblade' is about Whittingham hospital, about the grey atmosphere, the primitive conditions and the rest. It's a song with a glimmer of hope, but not much. My time as an out of work drunk wandering around Brixton is mentioned too. It's a very personal song." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004, published in Mental Health magazine, Feb 2005)

Paul Bennetts: "Kevin is a wonderful poet and his lyrical work can be far richer than any other of the so called singer songwriter poets such as Dylan or Cohen. Their work is based largely on the external world and is therefore very visual lyrically whereas Kevin can take us to somewhere else: an internal world with all its fears, etc. As you would expect, it may not be a world that is logical or rational at all and yet beauty and enlightenment can be found in the most unexpected places. Perhaps we can imagine standing with the Princes on the watchtowers or eating oranges with Suzanne at her place near the river but Kevin's fearless honesty seems to have the ability to take you to the very edge sometimes. That I would argue is his genius".

Kevin Coyne: "What I learnt about making art is that when people are in the turmoil of breakdown, they become more direct. Their masks fall away, they paint from heart to hand. I incorporated those concepts into my music. The first thing that comes into your head is often your best shot. I improvise everything, with the attendant mistakes, but I want to get at the heart. I loathe the 'well-crafted' pop song. We're supposed to find something out about ourselves with art, and craft wrecks that. I've no time for The Beatles. I'm appalled they're back at N°1. A whole generation is trained to believe they represent truth and honesty. I think 'Sgt. Pepper" sounds like shit." (The Independent, 2001)

"I said I loathe the well-made songs, well-tailored, the middle-eight and all this macartnesque. I never liked the Beatles anyway so all my life I tried to avoid all this shit, I just can't stand it. 'This is a good song, you know'. Producers will tell you this. I remember the first time I ever recorded for the BBC, we went in, we did a song called 'Soon' which is on the Siren album and the middle-eight is a bit strange and the producer said 'That's not right, you know, it does not sound right', I said 'Fuck off! This is our song!' You know, the BBC type, smoking a pipe… unbelievable." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

Tony Cousins: "I was adequate at best as a musician in those days. I knew about chords and all that but usually if I was playing with anybody at least I’d run through it first. And Kevin, he’d sit down with his guitar, play the thing through and we’d take it. Because of course he understood the importance of expressing your ideas as succinctly and as directly as possible without embellishing it endlessly and losing the essential emotion involved… I can’t remember which song we started with or any of that sort of thing but we just kind of, rattled through things. The first day we must have done half a dozen songs." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "You have like a computer bank or something, it just floods into your head, memories, facts, accurate and inaccurate. Language too, the use of language, you know, I just enjoy doing it. I've tried to unlock the key – that may sound pretentious – but I find a way to do it almost at will, so that it all tumbles out. I'm not a great fan of little exercise books full of scribblings and little neat lyric sheets." (Record Collector, July 2002)

"I usually start with a title mainly, a particular theme. A few lines like 'battered babies' or 'house on the hill'. A one-line image built into that as a process. And it has to be something which has directly affected me, it has to have some relation to the truth, a real experience.

I love blues more than anything, and jazz musicians, people like Elmore James, and Muddy Waters. It’s just great stuff with a power and truth that I just don’t find in Yes or Bob Marley and Little Feat, or any of those people. They don’t move me at all. Essentially I find it meaningless for instance word-wise. You can’t tell what they’re singing about half of the time and the details of the songs are usually to do with loose ladies on the road, the hard struggle to become a professional musician. It’s incestuous, just words to hang on to a riff.

I don’t see the point in doing anything unless you’re going to say something, unless you’re going to try and communicate, or even to instruct in some things, to share or pass on a feeling that hasn’t reached other people. To encapsulate certain feelings for people that they haven’t been able to express. Sounds a bit pompous, but I’ve got the ability to do these things. So, why not use it?" (Liquorice, 1976)

"There are still a lot of times and a lot of situations I haven’t written about. You just wait for something to spark it". (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"After only five visits to the Manor, Saturn and Chipping Norton Studios he had laid down 26 songs for an album. It then became impossible to choose only 11 of them, so a double was decided upon." (Virgin Press Release for the single 'Marlene' and the album 'Marjory Razorblade', 1973)

Tony Cousins: "I don’t remember second takes of anything unless somebody really fucked up. I do remember we all really liked the song 'Eastbourne Ladies' and that was the only track where we tried to insist on getting a better take - we must have done a dozen takes or something - and ended up using probably the first or the second one because we just couldn’t get it any better. And Kevin was getting very annoyed by then, because he hated doing things that many times.

The overriding thing was this sense of uncompromising attitude and getting straight to work. You weren’t larking around." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Gordon Smith: We would have done it live. I done a few overdubs but most of it was live. None of this rubbish about taking six months to do an album. We done it in a week or something like that.” (Interview with Clive Product, 2007)

Kevin Coyne: "I was surprised that people didn’t cotton on to [the fact that] this was really genuine white blues. And not like black blues, but it was blues. It owed something, obviously, to the Delta and Robert Johnson, but it wasn’t like Van Morrison, trying to out-do the greats. It was something rather individualistic but using the blues poetic lyric form… The actual content of the lyrics and the relapses into the vernacular, the Midlands and all that, was something no-one had really ever done before." (1996)

John Peel: "The thing about Kevin is that nothing in his voice is contrived. He hated the idea of 'white blues'. But what he does seems to come straight from the soul. You could say the same of Elmore James or Robert Johnson, or Howling Wolf." (Interview by Robert Chalmers)

Kevin Coyne: "My one possible drawback… it’s strange because at the same time it’s my strongest asset in a way… is that I write so quickly. I never labour over songs. They come incredibly easily to me." (1978)

'I Want My Crown': "I am familiar with the version from Big Joe Williams. As usual I couldn't remember the exact words so I added quite a few of my own. It was the spirit of the song I wanted to capture and I think I succeeded." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004)

"I was disappointed by the album reception. I felt I was tapping into something exceptional. I'd managed to transfer Englishness into blues form, those crackly old records coming through the ether had touched something inside me. And I thought I was speaking for the people I'd worked with. People in trouble have told me those songs mean something to them, particularly 'House on the Hill'. And it sold well. But it didn't reach people properly, it was misunderstood. The papers said I was trying to sound like Al Stewart." (The Independent, 2001)

"It was a real pity that album was released in America as a single record; it totally destroys the concept. The record company really undermine their own artists sometimes."(Trouser Press, January 1978)

John Peel: "Kevin has one of the best voices in contemporary music, every word he sings contains real emotion, be it anger, hurt or joy. He’s one of the great ones, ladies and gentlemen." (1973)

Clive Selwood: "A huge talent. Colossal. I really believe that he had the capacity to become famous on the scale of Bob Dylan." (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

John Peel: "A lot of people thought he was the Great White hope, but to be frank, I think you have to be a bit of a bastard to make it on that level. And Kevin hasn't really got that element in his make-up". (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

Alex James: "This album is widely agreed to be the masterpiece of English folk-blues artist Coyne, while being early and underground enough to have slipped under even your radar. Entrancing, freaky and desolate in turns, it should grab you by the throat and shake your brains around as well as reminding you why it's quite nice to be a cheese farmer and writing for The Spectator". (The Daily Telegraph 2007)

"Kevin Coyne's mind was a dying seaside town; broken-windowed alehouses, charity shops, battered lives in bleak attics forgotten by everyone but him. His ugly-beautiful mutter bawling his stories like a mongrel locked out in the rain. One-eyed songs on crutches spilling fag ash in their drinks. Demented old ladies, like the knife-tongued Marjory Razorblade, who might just be Gracie Fields's bastard sister; Eastbourne Ladies flashing their knickers; Jackie in his boarding house, paper hat on head, pining for Edna, his love long gone. Lives played out in the shadow of the mental hospital on the hill where Coyne once worked. Max Wall singing the blues. A desolate, desperate, beautiful scrapbook of stories, a scuffed blues bestiary spat out by England's Gogol, the Bard of Derby." (Jeff Young, The Guardian, 2006)

Frank Bangay: "...a mixture of blues and music hall comedy, with a punk edge." (2004)

Jeffrey Lewis: "That album is absolutley fantastic, I really must thank you for introducing me to it! I read up a little bit on Kevin Coyne and it just makes me more and more fascinated by him and by those recordings. And of course everybody I play the album to loves it too. One of the best gifts I've gotten!" (2003)

'Blame it on the Night' (1974)

The unobtainable record. For mysterious marketing reasons, this essential album was only pressed in limited quantities and today can only be found at crazy prices, being also the sole title excluded from the CD release of Coyne's Virgin back catalogue in the 90s. For years, before the 2010 download only reissue (and its many bonus tracks), fans would scour the internet in search of this overlooked masterpiece, and masterpiece indeed it is.
Perhaps less startling than 'Marjory', 'Blame It On The Night' is nevertheless in the same vein. On the one hand there is the folk-blues-boogie of 'I Believe In Love' and 'Poor Swine' (and its amazing lyrics where Coyne feels pity for a coal mine boss facing his employees). On the other, the disturbing madness of 'Witch' or 'Don't Delude Me' (is Coyne presenting a clinical case, or is he himself mad?).
The album is again perfectly served by Gordon Smith and band, a solid blues-rock combo compliant to every whim of the maestro Coyne. The album begins with the opening cackle of 'River Of Sin', a laugh that some feel was echoed by Johnny Rotten in 'Anarchy In The UK'. Rotten later admitted to being a Coyne fan. Rebels Of The World, Unite.

Kevin Coyne: "The record sounds a little contrived in places. These record company situations: they say you have to go one way when you want to go another. I didn't do 'Blame it on the Night' that way for that reason, but that idea is in the back of my mind now. As it turned out, the album didn't sell like 'Marjory Razorblade' and I admit I panicked in some respects." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"So far, Kevin Coyne is supposed to be the new Bob Dylan, the new Joe Cocker, the new Jim Morrison, the new Loudon Wainwright, the new Wild Man Fischer, the new Dr. John, the new Roger Chapman and the new Captain Beefheart. Actually, he’s the ~~old~~ new Kevin Coyne" (Press release 1974)

Kevin Coyne: "Why not compare me to music-hall people – Max Miller, George Fornby Senior or Al Reed? I’ve borrowed… the manner on stage, a bit of Les Dawson… things that don’t really belong to rock and roll." (Sounds, July 26 1975)

"I like the Northern kind of comic. Freddie Frinton kind of humour. Les Dawson. People like that. Although I think he's become just a little bit of a product of the media of late. But he's a great stand-up comic generally. And I love the way they always break into song." (NME, 27 March 1976)

Gordon Smith: "He was a one-off. He was unique. He had the comedy and everything. Totally English as well. He was a natural comedian. A bit like a Les Dawson character really. He had that same sort of sense of humour. He used to put on these voices, just like Les Dawson. He wasn’t trying to copy him. It was just a natural thing." (Interview with Eugene Coyne, 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "I think a song like 'River of Sin', what with the laughing and the sound of it, is very close to 'Anarchy in the UK', or one of those. And I realize now that John Lydon must have listened very closely to some of those things. I was supposed to meet him one time. It was supposed to be a 'meeting of minds' or something. I was very drunk. I collapsed under a table and was taken out. I never saw him. Which is more in the spirit of punk that what he was up to." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

People always said, 'Oh he has 'it' but he doesn't quite fit in…' or they tried to push me as another great white soul singer, or bought in Van Morrison and Beefheart… it can still happen." (New Musical Express, February 3, 1979)

"Coming from a fairly well-to-do suburban lifestyle, Coyne's catalog of life's outsiders and losers has always struck an ominous chord with me. It's kind of like seeing a bad traffic accident. The carnage is horrible, yet there's something fascinating about the horror that makes it hard to take your eyes of the scene." (RDTEN1 rateyourmusic.com)

'Blame it on the Night'

'Matching Head and Feet' (1975)

The sound of the first two albums was no longer enough. Coyne wanted big venues and a big sound. The spiral that would lead to to a live double album (that inevitable '70s beast) was set in motion, probably stoked by Virgin, who wanted hits and commercial success.

The faithful Tony Cousins was replaced on bass by Archie Leggett (ex Kevin Ayers). Gordon Smith stayed, but was buried beneath the sound of Andy Summers (studio guitar-hero just out of Eric Burdon's New Animals) who would bring the house down with The Police a couple of years later. (Kevin always remembered bumping into him in the studio during the recording of 'Outlandos d'Amour', and chuckling at his new peroxide hairdo: 'We thought, this is Andy's last chance to make something.' Apropos The Police, Sting is also a declared Kevin Coyne fan). The battle of egos between the two guitarists swang in favour of Summers, who remained to shine alone on the next two albums.
'Matching Head and Feet' is an imperfect album full of gems. While 'Saviour' or the marvellous 'Sunday Morning Sunrise' always remained live crowd pleasers, songs like 'Rock'n'Roll Hymn' or 'Tulip', plus the '70s production, leave the album somewhat dated.
Still, the critics found it more 'accessible' at the time, more 'commercial' than 'Marjory' or 'Blame It', which they considered too 'introspective'.
Geoffrey Haslam had production credits with The Velvet Underground ('Loaded'), The MC5 and The J Geils Band, but contented himself with simply adding the odd touch of strings or brass.
The album was reissued in 2010 as download only with lots of bonus tracks.

"'Matching Head and Feet' not only fulfils but actually surpasses all anticipations that he’d record an album to shake the world" (Allan Jones, Melody Maker, 1975)

Kevin Coyne: "This album sold very well. It actually went to the Top 30 in England as I remember."(Sounds, July 26 1975)

"Although that might have been my fault, I make no apology for wanting to dominate the direction of the music. I have to have that control. I sometimes get angered by musicians who don’t fully appreciate what I’m doing" (Melody Maker, 1975)

Gordon Smith: “A lot of egos flying around, yeah! There was a lot of tension at the time. Lots of drinking…” (Interview with Clive Product, 2007 as all of Gordon's quotes for this album)

Tim Penn: "I seem to remember he [Producer Geoffrey Haslam] had very little input into the album bar adding horns on a couple of tracks and getting the string arrangement done for 'Rock & Roll Hymn' – which I hated (the strings) at the time. I guess what Geoff really did was to say 'Yeah, that's working or not' etc. I cannot remember any ideas really originating with him, except I think the suggestion to horns on 'Its Not Me' and the flute on 'Tulip' and definitely the strings on 'Rock & Roll Hymn'. The whole album was recorded in about 3 or 4 days." (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2003, as all Tim's quotes for this album)

Kevin Coyne: ""His [Geoffrey Haslam's] forte was brass arrangements and bringing in loads of session people to sit around and moan all day." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"There are some good songs on it, but they are grossly arranged in many ways. Everybody in the band was weighing in too heavy. But I felt pretty angry when I did it. There was some of that pressure again and I objected to just saying, 'All right, let's do a rock'n'roll album'. I didn't quite work out that way." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

Tim Penn: "'Saviour' was literally written from that bass riff of Archie's which Gordon immediately developed with the slide riff."

Gordon Smith: ['Saviour'] “That was my riff. That was me trying to do a Fred McDowell sort of thing on the slide guitar. I´d met Fred McDowell and loved his music. That´s where that riff came from."

Kevin Coyne: "When we were recording 'Saviour', I kept thinking: 'My God, what kind of monster are we giving birth to here?'" (Melody Maker, 1975)

'Saviour'

Tim Penn: "The mid section and arrangement on 'Tulip' was very much Andy Summers."

Gordon Smith: “I think the idea [of Andy Summers joining the band] was from Virgin. They were trying to make them into a pop star thing, make them more commercial.”

Tim Penn: "'Mrs Hooley' was given shape by Archie suggesting that given the Irish theme it needed something sounding like those Irish drums and Irish marching bands (hence the swirling Summers guitar solo). The two versions of this song (the BBC session and 'Matching Head and Feet') perhaps best emphasis what Virgin was asking Kevin to try and do with the album."

Kevin Coyne: "What I wanted to avoid more than anything was a mainstream rock sound. They really wanted something like a band sound with a mixture of the more quirky… the real Kevin Coyne stuff strewn around occasionally, to add a little bit of eccentricity to the thing. But the main push being on a radio commercial-bound rock sound, I would say, something which maybe comes through on the records. I don't think my ideas come across best when watered down. I gradually got away from all of that, to the point where I pretty well did what I liked." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

Tim Penn: "'Turpentine' – I think Geoff said it didn't sound angry enough and Kevin suggested I just banged the piano with my fists, etc (I think I overdubed the piano, so that we could have several goes at the random anger – but it may have been put down live. I can't remember now, but I can remember that my hands were bleeding afterwards!). I think I did quite well!"

"'Matching Head and Feet' remains, I think, Kevin's most extreme and provocative statement. It was characterised largely by a mood of rage and apocalypse. I remember vividly listening for the first time to 'Turpentine', Kevin's ferocious vision of suburban violence and terror ('I know in Seven Oaks, there are plenty of folks who carry guns, carry KNIVES, smash the faces of their WIVES… Turpentine – BURN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD RIGHT DOWN NOW): as the song reached a frightening climax a speaker literally flew off the wall of the studio and Archie Legget narrowly escaped severe concussion. It was that kind of album." (Allan Jones, Melody Maker, 1976)

Tim Penn: "'Lonely Lovers' – Kevin basically said he wanted the piano part to sound like an amateur suburban piano player just banging out a tune, and the end sounding like poor piano practice. The screaming 'cat sounds' guitar solo was Andy's idea and I wasn't completely convinced either by the piano part or the guitar. Kevin's songs never really needed any 'gimmicks'.

'Sunday Morning Sunrise' – I remember Kevin improvising several different lyrics in the studio. To me it was a new song, but it had been tried out for 'Blame it on the Night'. The feel of it was very much Summers, who I thought was a much better song arranger and guitar orchestrator than a natural soloist in the Gordon Smith mold. Actually, I thought that Gordon and he provided a very good foil for each other, as can be heard on the album and also on the two tracks that survive from the Rainbow gig in March. Gordon again proved he was more than just a bluesman on this song (but I think he really felt that the blues was the more honourable master to serve!).

'It's Not Me' was just a rocker done in the studio, the best part of the song being the interplay between Gordon's guitar and the piano, which the overdubbed sax (Mel Collins I think) picked up on to work his solo around.

'Lucy' I hated at the time and still do. This song epitomised what I most disliked about the rhythmic feel of the new band. Archie Leggett's tumbling bass line gave the whole thing a very frenetic feel. Maybe I dislike it because I could not find any space to do anything with it on keyboards – to me rhythmically the track just doesn't sit anywhere.

'Rock & Roll Hymn' was just a little lick I was messing with in rehearsals that Kevin just started singing to, Archie helped shape the middle eight. The whole thing was written in about 10 minutes – Kevin thought it might make a good single (how wrong he was!).

'One Fine Day' first started life as 'Right in Hand'. Kevin wanted to get away from his 'strumming guitar' sounds, so the little cod reggae feel was put together in the studio. I think I suggested using the wah-wah on the piano part and then overdubbing the organ."

Kevin Coyne: "I was very much influenced by the place we were recording the album at – Little Chalfont, very suburban, extremely so, and with a very irritating redneck attitude to us, just even walking down the street and going into pubs. So it was all rage, and on the spot reaction – 'I know in Sevenoaks, there are people…'. I know that behind this superficial well-mannered situation there is a lot of anxiety and pain. It was my total irritation at their pretence at normality." (Liquorice, 1976)

Tim Penn: "Summers and Leggett had joined the band in late December or early January. Andy then suggested Peter Woolf as a new permanent drummer and I think about a week of rehearsals for the album were done before going into the studio – so the band was not exactly gig tight. The rehearsals certainly did not produce definitive arrangements of the songs for sure, and were more about trying to find more varied feels away from what Kevin and the previous band had been doing. Perhaps I have false memories but the Hyde Park band [30th June 1974] never rehearsed as far as I remember. Virgin were definitely looking for a different approach/ sound than that on 'Marjory' and 'Blame It On The Night' – so we did not go to the Manor (which was not exactly a great studio at the time) and we used the Stones Mobile 16 track and recorded it out at a farm studio in Beaconsfield (I think!)."

Gordon Smith: “It [the band] did collapse a few times! That´s from over-indulgence. I remember one time, we did this tour of Spain with a new drummer. I can´t remember his name… And just before we went on stage, in the dressing room, he drank a whole bottle of brandy. In one go! A big bottle! And then we went on stage and he just collapsed at these drums. (Laughs) And we´re getting these cans and all sorts of things thrown at us from the audience. Tin cans flying off my guitar!”.

Tim Penn: "I remember little of my past. Well as the cliché says, if you can remember the sixties (or was it the seventies), you couldn't have been there. However, at some point during my colourful youth I was a member of Kevin Coyne's band and played on his third album 'Matching Head and Feet'. Whilst with Kevin, I vaguely remember being attacked by a wasp on stage at Hyde Park in 1974, and getting voted top live band in Belgium, beating Eric Clapton in second place. I can also remember a strange incident in Sweden with a certain Mr Andy Summers, a stripper and a glove puppet that looked remarkably like a fox. I think I also played in Dorris Henderson's Eclection in the 70s, and worked with her again from about 1999 until she died last year." (www.guvnors.com)

'Heartburn' (1976)

This album is not unlike 'Matching Head & Feet', but is more problematic. The coldness of the sound and the cleaner production rob us of the wild side of Coyne.
'Strange Locomotion', with its pleasant psychedelic imagery, is superb but is an old Siren number. 'America' is both strangely lyrical and comic, while 'I Love My Mother' wallows in thick layers of strings. Most of the songs were set to benefit from live renditions on the next album. 'Heartburn' is a transitional work that has some aces in the pack but doesn't quite manage to succeed. The disturbing sleeve is by Hipgnosis.

Kevin Coyne: "You can tell by the title it wasn't up to much. With the band I was just sort of losing my grip on my own individual things – playing a guitar and singing, which is what I do best. I was going on stage almost as the leader of a rock band with all the classical postures… I got to feel a bit like Joe Cocker. I was getting to feel a bit mindless, like going through the processes. I felt very depressed… I haven't even got a copy of 'Heartburn'. My thing about albums is that they should read like diaries and I felt that the diary lost a few pages during that period." (New Musical Express, February 3, 1979)

"There's an element of compromise. Yeah, I have to admit that – in the sense that I've nearly had to stop being too direct and temper it with a little more musical skill. But it's not too much of a compromise because it's enjoyable for me and I'm learning a lot at the same time. But I don't want to lose the qualities that were there and I don't think I have. I think that on a lot of the stuff I've been doing lately on my own, it's stronger than ever in that direction. And that will see the light of day soon." (NME, 27 March 1976)

"Again I like it, but… it feels a little manipulated. There's not as much spirit there, even in some of the songs. As I said, I generally write about real people. On that album, it seems like I'm the only real person." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

Neale Paterson: "It's as if Virgin wanted to punish Kevin Coyne for his recalcitrance by imprisoning him in studio rock hell and not letting him out until he came up with a gold record. And Kevin Coyne responds like a naughty schoolboy, promising the headmaster to be a good boy - with his fingers crossed behind his back. That's what makes 'Heartburn' so fascinating, and weirdly subversive. […] It's an amazing piece of work, in its way. Pure musical theatre, as with 'In Living Black And White' – but unlike the live album, this one has all the subtext kept well out of sight, neatly swept under the studio carpet – and not less powerful for that..." (Kevin Coyne Group, 2008)

Kevin Coyne: "It's the least successful album I ever made in terms of sale and yet it was the most expensive, silly cover, which, I would say, is the art student view of Kevin Coyne." (Liquorice, 1978)

"'My Mother's Eyes' is essentially a Jewish song of devotion to the great mother." (Sounds, January 21, 1978)

'Shangri-la'

'England England' (1976 - unreleased)

Snoo Wilson: It was Coyne who prompted the theme of twins in 'England England'. He’d wanted to explore the relationship between him and his brother for a long time. I felt the theme needed a bit of expanding. We started out with the silliest of synopses which I gradually transferred on to file-cards, noting which characters were singing the songs." (Time Out, Aug 19-25 1976)

Kevin Coyne: "That did cause quite a stir and it did really go down that well. There were a few of moral objections, saying we glorified two ruthless criminals. But they missed the point entirely. We were only trying to understand why they did what they did. And anyway, the music was well received." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

"I suppose I was fascinated by The Kray Brothers because they were villains and baddies, something to do with childhood. I knew that they were probably pretty ordinary guys, the sort of guys who could live on the Council estates where I was born, who'd grown to this enormous size of myth and legend and I just wanted to normalize them a little bit, bring in elements of the '50s. take away the myth, find the flesh and the bones, the reality of it all.

I can only see them as working class boys struggling, trying to make it the only way they could. They could have been boxers or footballers – possibly the only other choice left to them was to be gangsters. To make money it seems to be the only way. Where I lived it was a similar thing. I moved into 'pop music' to make money – I had very little possibilities to achieve anything else anywhere else." (Chasing Rainbows, 1977)

"I thought it was great. I thought it was very misunderstood by silly old men who didn't understand anything. There was a lot of intellectual bullshit about it in the posh papers – completely crap, totally misunderstood. People prefer 'Jesus Christ Super-star' or the Elvis musical, they still want a degree of fantasy. I was excepting all sort of things to happen, legs getting shot off. There was one day when we went into the theatre and there was this badly spelt note on one of the showcases outside and it said 'Tell the truth', that's all it said… actually we had told the fucking truth." (Liquorice, 1978)

'In Living Black and White' (1976) / 'On Air' (1975)

One of the best known Kevin Coyne records, with its famous cover (on the back we find that the smiling Coyne conceals a cut-throat razor..), 'In Living Black & White' attracted a whole new audience. The concerts were billed as 'An Evening With Kevin Coyne, His Music, His Words, His Band'.
The band is a perfect whole, in sound and in power. Summers is a giant, whether with lavish solos, the frenzied rhythms of 'Eastbourne Ladies', or even the acoustic purity of 'Big White Bird'. Virgin must have rubbed their hands in glee at three sides of great rock. Yes, only three, since the first side succumbed to the inevitable Coyne axiom: when it gets too obvious or easy, do the opposite of what people expect. So this live double opens with 'Case History #2' – an unprecedented piece, perhaps one of the most astonishing of his career. Accompanied by the sublime Zoot Money on electric piano, Coyne delivers strange dreamlike texts and poetical ravings, followed by some grotesque and distressed crooning. Then come the famous roars of 'Fat Girl', with Coyne's primitive guitar lashing out a furious rhythm.
When the full band eventually comes together on a diabolical 'Eastbourne Ladies', it is clear that we are dealing with an unclassifiable artist, a giant personality. Unclassifiable, and unmarketable... Were there economic reasons that forced the break-up of this group, or did Coyne decide to take risks again? 'The last band I had was so good I don't think we could do very much more,' was his comment. Whatever it was, Virgin were keen to capitalise on the live album but found themselves on the next tour with only Coyne and Money alone on stage, low-budget music-hall style. Some memorable TV appearances around this time won more than a few converts: on the French show Chorus, where he broke the acoustic guitar's strings one by one, and in Germany on the later, unforgettable Rockpalast, where Kevin pushed theatre to a point where it was hard to believe he wasn't actually mad. The legend was born.
'On Air,' another live album featuring the same band appeared in 2008.

'Knocking on Heaven's Door' from "In Living Black & White'

Kevin Coyne: "I wanted a lot more anger in the music, a lot more frustration in the playing. The power we had was becoming a little too orthodox. It didn’t have the power I needed."

"The show opened with a large woman on stage, surrounded by magazines and packets of cornflakes. She was part of the show and she was symbolic, as it were, of something or other in the corner. A domestic setting through the whole gig. There was a settee. I love settees and that on stage. As near you can get to suburbia. And she was great, actually. She was required to participate when she felt necessary, which was, on some occasions, rather frequently. She'd make to attack me on stage if I was particularly chauvinistic and hard. And there was also a tape running. It started off the show. A blank stage and this tape recorder." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"The piano player [Zoot Money] has been aware for far too long that… what? Well, he’s been aware and formerly a LIVE star of the sixties. He’s an artist. This tour contains Andy Summers, I love him although I’m not allowed to touch him. Why isn’t he famous? A million questions but no answers. Steve Thompson plays the bass and doesn’t require too much of anything only to play the bass in good company. Peter Woolf is the original time keeper, the original heartbeat. Pete doesn’t make a lot of noise because if he did, the walls would fall in. I think I know him ". (Programme to 'An evening with Kevin Coyne, his music, his words, his band', 1976)

"The originality is something to which the band responds. As cynical as you can become after being in the business as long as they have, it is something they’ve never heard before. They’re discovering something, not only something about me, but about a whole area of music they never knew before. It’s very important to me this band. Even if it stopped tomorrow, I believe it will have made some sort of mark. The principle behind it is only now becoming a reality. I get exhausted just thinking about what we could really achieve." (Melody Maker, May 19 1975)

Andy Summers: "Kevin is only as strong as the musicians behind him, he needs musicians who can translate his ideas with the same kind of authority. My main contribution would be to focus Kevin’s music with more clarity. To give it more power, more edge, more precision which it lacked in the past." (Melody Maker, May 19 1975, 1980)

Kevin Coyne: "The album was produced by Robert John Lange who later went on to AC/DC. I argued with him from Day 1." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"I go out on a stage with all kinds of intentions, to disrupt as well as entertain an audience. And one dissenting voice, one cry of ‘Wanker!’, that can change the whole performance. Then, I’ll want to see that person. Have him up on the fucking stage. I’ll want to see this man, see who he is… Something like that can change the performance into a vicious and violent attack. And I really do relish that kind of situation. I really do." (1976)

"The spectre of performing to an audience who expect something well defined and calculating has depressed me for a long time. I have a real dread of, say, Alvin Lee or some wanker like that, who’s basically totally unreal, and treats his audience as if they were unreal, too. I’ve no ambition to get through to the screaming masses who don’t even bother to think about what it is they’re experiencing. It would break my heart to have to do something like that. I’m unpredictable and I want more and more to work in the kind of atmosphere where people will understand that." (1976)

"There is a genuine need for communication, on the part of the audience. They want to be communicated with… they’re bored and frustrated with being bombed and blasted, verbally and musically, and generally regarded as a silent herd of cattle. And I don’t care anymore if people say ‘this is weird’, because I know it’s not. What I’m saying is, you talk to me, we’ll all talk. I’m not hiding behind a battery of giant amplifiers." (1977)

"I’ve never been an easy person to work with – I mean, just in terms of wanting to change things all the time, always wanting to develop, never wanting to do the same thing twice. Which can be a bit disturbing for regular musicians – but this band aren’t regular. I think with this band we can do anything really." (Sounds, April 24, 1976)

Zoot Money: "I can see it lasting as long as we want it to." (Melody Maker, May 19 1975)

Andy Summers: "I’m a great believer in good songs, because I think you can communicate something through that form. People get very bored with long solos; unless they’re laid by a really gifted improviser who’s feeling quite inspired, they’re such a waste of time. I’d rather hear an instrumentalist playing something quite succinct within the contest of a good song. It can be much more creative and satisfying than a 15-minute solo by some basically anonymous guitar here." (Melody Maker, July 31 1976)

Kevin Coyne: "You know, I think Zoot's a great player. A great artist. They all are. And with the addition of Steve Thompson – a very strong player – the band's really become complete in a way that it wasn't this time last year. That was an interesting band… Incredible variety of people in it, and must have worked more gigs than most. We did all of Europe several times."

"That was a very pointless thing [Virgin releasing the double album in America as a single dic] to do. I think the record industry people genuinely underestimate the intelligence of the people who buy their records. As an artist, I'm trying to communicate to that audience. Those industry people should trust me for a change. It may cost them a bit at first, but at least, these people woud be treated as they are – people." (Trouser Press, January 1978)

'An Evening With Kevin Coyne, His Music, His Words, His Band', filmed for TV in 1977. Songs are Talking to no-one, Strange Locomotion, Sunday Morning Sunrise, Shangril-la, Turpentine, America and Big White Bird.

'Beautiful Extremes' (1974–1978)

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

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)

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)

"'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' is a song about Richard Branson basically. I was at this party at Richard Branson's, 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

'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 hysterical soprano 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)

'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)

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: "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)

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'

'Rough' (1983) / 'At the Last Wall' (1982)

(Artwork: Original LP and 2 CD reissues)

A fantastic band (Peter Kirtley, guitar, Dave Sheen, drums, Steve Lamb, bass, just before the break-up and breakdown. Coyne was about to collapse under the weight of divorce, alcoholism and depression. He'd move to Germany with some desperate years ahead. His fans would hear nothing of him and would file him accordingly – in the forgotten section.
The sound of 'Rough' is powerful, with Kirtley's guitar and his inspired solos, and rhythmically perfect: Lamb is a virtuoso of the fretless bass.
Coyne revisits 'House On The Hill' and 'Pretty Park' in forceful and lyrical style, and lets rip with 'Monkey Man', and a mutilated version of 'Lucille'. Disappointingly short as an LP but the '90s CD reissue restored several unreleased numbers.
By the same band (with the exception of Dave Wilson on drums), check the only (official) DVD to date: 'Kevin Coyne at the Last Wall', recorded live in Berlin in 1982.

"This live album recorded in Bremen, Germany in 1985 features one of Kevin Coyne's best ever bands in scintillating form. The spirit and power comes from intensive touring round Europe, from a group used to improvising together. Listen to Steve Lamb's jazzy fretless bass and Peter Kirtley's bluesy, rock infused guitar playing. For the artist, it mirrors almost perfectly the angst and humour contained in the lyrics. Classic Coyne efforts like 'House on the Hill' and 'Saviour' never sounded better.

The addition of the single 'Happy Holiday' is a genuine bonus too, featuring Coyne in a heartfelt commercial mood." (Reissue press release)

Robert Coyne: "As good as the music is, the moments of 'The Last Wall' I most enjoyed seeing again after more than twenty years were not part of the concert itself, but two staged scenes at the beginning and the end of the film. In the first scene, the band 'arrive' at the concert site, and Dad leads everyone from the van (that it's marked 'Valiant Electrical Wholesale Company, Lettice Street, Fulham' adds a tragi-comic note – no Rock Star trappings for Dad, ever) with mock gravitas: 'Follow me... take your time... it's a very important show...'. In the second scene, at the conclusion of the gig, Dad tears through the paper wall at the back of the stage and steps outside to contemplate the real Berlin wall beyond it. It's an effective piece of theatre, and I know Dad would have appreciated the drama and the symbolism of it, but I'm quite sure that as he turns around he's struggling not to laugh." (2008)

'The Monkey Man' at The Last Wall

'Legless In Manilla' (1984)

(Original LP and CD reissue artworks)

Released on his own label ('Collapse', which duly collapsed immediately), 'Legless In Manilla' is a superb if rather forgotten album.
The absence of a guitar soloist (Coyne and Kirtley no longer getting on... how many musicians did Coyne exhaust in this way?) makes it one of the bluesiest Kevin Coyne albums. 'Big Money Man' and 'Money Machine', are almost solo Coyne. The album's big moment is the superb hypnotic lament of 'Gina's Song'.

The blues are well balanced by the good old improvised ravings of 'Zoo Wars' or 'Raindrops On The River'.

Kevin Coyne: "I did once have my own label – I did very briefly – it was called 'Collapse-Records'. We made one record and then it collapsed! (laughs) It is true! But I was not very serious about it. It was distributed by Rough Trade. It is a lot of hustle to run your own label." (Jazz Dimensions, 2001)

"I did 'Legless in Manilla' on my own label. We did it very quick. I was economizing like mad. I wanted to do something very sort of naked. Peter Kirtley was supposed to be on the album but he was doing something else with somebody else and I sort of just carried on without him. It was a bit of a shambolic session" (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Peel Sessions' (1973/1990)

Attention, masterpiece! John Peel was always a fan, first signing Coyne to Dandelion records, then continuing to invite him regularly to BBC sessions. Coyne often brought along new songs, unreleased versions or improvisations.
This collection is superb (but very incomplete – there is enough quality material in the archives to fill 4 CD's). This album covers the 'Marjory' and 'Matching' line-ups (the improbable and clownish 'Dance Of The Bourgeoisie'), through to Bob Ward let loose on electric guitar ('That's Rock'n'Roll', a homage to punk to take your breath away), by way of poignant ballads often invented on the spot ('Do Not Shout At Me Father' or the harrowing 'Rivers Of Blood').
Coyne shows himself, for those who missed him on stage, as an incredible performer. The lucky ones who saw him know that age and illness never diminished his stage presence.

Kevin Coyne: "I've done almost more [BBC] sessions than anyone else! There's a lot of material in the archives. […] I used to just do it in the [radio] studio. Just 'live', one-off things. I used to do it especially for John Peel really, because I thought you had to use the radio. And I don't see any point in fucking going in and duplicating a record. I wanted to use that supposedly live ambiance of the studio. Well, you know it's pre-recorded but use the chance to do some extra recordings. I mean, Peel's been a good mate of mine over the years and normally he goes along with what I throw in." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

John Peel: "It's perfectly possible that the tapes for these no longer exist anyway. The BBC's attitude at the time was that something like 'Gardener's Question Time' should be preserved for eternity, you know, in a special lead-lined box at the bottom of a mine-shaft in the home counties. But things like pop music were so disposable that, well, they disposed of it! So a lot of it is gone." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"He was a horrendously under appreciated poet/folkie/jazzer/ bluesman, long on soul and a Van Morrison-like spirit and passion in his gruff and gravelly voice. Notably, he was one of the few British artists (or from anyplace besides the rural South U.S. for that matter) who could take the blues and truly make it his own, writing shouts and hollers about decidedly local (and painfully relevant) subject matter – mental illness, coal miners ('The Miner's Song') and how the system conspires to grind ideas and people down ('Ey Up Me Duck'). And just hearing him make the transition on tape from lean, turtlenecked Nick Drake/Richard Thompson folkie-type into gruff, grizzled and wearied pub singer is itself almost as unsettling as the topics of his songs. Riveting stuff, indeed." (cmj.com, 2000)

'Do not shout at me Father'

Germany (1984-2004)

Kevin Coyne: "…four or five litres of wine a day." (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

"…break-up of a marriage… I was in a very bad state, drinking heavily. I think I went to Munich to sample the beer as much as anything else. But I don't drink now!" (Melody Maker, Mar 3 1990)

"I am an alcoholic, so I can speak with some authority. I haven't had a drink in three and a half years now, but I have to say it played a considerable part in my demise. I never bothered with the other drugs. I thought I was rather immune just being a drinker, but of course it's just as deadly. I tend to believe alcoholics are born and not made. Medical evidence show it's a physical weakness coupled with a mental obsession.

My best work was always done with either little or no alcohol. Since I stopped drinking I've been enormously productive. I have to say in my travels through the music business that it's as widespread there as in any other profession. An alcoholic is an alcoholic, whether he's a bank manager or an Eskimo. It's really as extreme as that." (1990?)

"The two notable things to ever come out of the United States are rock'n'roll and Alcoholics Anonymous. I would say it saved my life, or saved my sanity. And, of course, rock'n'roll… it was a great import… and a great invention." (Charleston Gazette, 2000)

Helmi Coyne: "He was living in a squat. He was permanently drunk. He couldn't eat. I'd see him at Nuremberg railway station. He never asked for money, but I'd give him 20 marks – I knew he had nothing. Everyone believed he was going to die." (Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Horst Spandler: "When I met Kevin in 1986, he was down and out, he had left his wife in England and gone to live with Steffi (the mother of his third son, Nico) and it was a difficult relationship. He was out of money, he didn`t even have a guitar anymore – he had lost it on a train station platform when he was drunk. He was struggling with depression and obsession and paranoia caused by his drinking habit. He got into trouble with the police – I remember that he kicked in a glass door at a gas station when he was drunk – he was fined and had to pay for the door and had no money. He didn`t have many gigs and if he had one it was usually a one-man show at a small venue for little pay and he had to borrow a guitar. He called me up several times and asked me if I could find some gigs or musicians for him. So I introduced him to my amateur band [Van Bluus] and we worked together for a very short time. I felt that he needed some professional musicians. So I called up Peter Harasim of Concertbüro Franken and they fixed him up with some of the best local musicians available at that time who finally became the Paradise Band.

The Concertbüro payed his rent – they didn`t give him any cash, because they feared he would spend it on alcohol. I think the professionalism of the band and the connections of the Concertbüro played an important role in getting Kevin back into the music business. I don`t dare to think where he might be now without them and without Helmi." (Kevin Coyne Group)

Robert Steinhart: "When we met Kevin, he was a hard alcohol addict, it was really heavy stuff. A friend of mine, Guenther Liebergesell, was working for the U.S. Army as a aide for drug and alcohol abuse. I made the contact, and Kevin started getting clear… When he was drunk it was horrifying, he was very aggressive… When he was sober it was easy and nice, most of the time…" (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2007)

Kevin Coyne: "I remember the first two years there, I was in post-breakdown shock. I was thinking in a spaced-out way. And I'd lost touch with the things I love: music, football. I didn't play records for years." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

Fitzgerald Kusz: He was stranded in Nürenberg … Some times later, I was walking with my wife by the river Pegnitz when we crossed a stumbling drunkard who could hardly stand on his feet: it was Kevin Coyne and what the alcohol had left of him. The final collapse came in 1985.” (Fitzgerald Kusz: "My Tribute To Kevin"; from: "Thomas Kraft, Rock Stories", München 2009)

Kevin Coyne: "I'm in pretty good shape. I've abandonned the drink forever and I'm now a confirmed ex (if this ever occurs) alcoholic. No, I haven't turned to God, I've simply got fed up with all the misery associated with boozing. As you know, my relationship with Lesley fell apart because of drinking. I loved (and still love) her dearly; it was a very high price to pay. I'm now living (and in love with) a plendid German woman, and I don't want to blow it a second time. I've got plenty of work here (gigs, lyrics writing, books, etc.) and it's great to be recognised and appreciated. Thatcher's kingdom, seen from a distance, seams a dreary and horrific place … Germany has hope, it's not dominated by the terror-squad right and they do seem to have learnt (in the main) from their experiences. Nürnberg is a small city with theatres, art galleries (plenty of Lucas Cranach – Dürer was born here) – there's a real sense of peace here. I don't miss London." (Letter to Nigel Burch, 1984?)

Helmi Coyne: "I visited my brother who lived in a very strange community and they had the name 'Kevin Coyne' on the letter box. I said: 'Now, you've gone completely mad, you write 'Kevin Coyne' on the letter box' and he said 'Well, he's living here' and I couldn't believe it." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

Kevin Coyne: "People have said that they didn't know where I was, or what I was doing. But there's been, at least, one album a year. After the Cherry Red fiasco, I decided to form my own record company in Germany – so the records ended up being expensive imports here. I did 'Legless in Manilla', a very strange album for German Rough Trade. There was a live LP called 'Rough', and then one called 'Stumbling onto Paradise' which I think is one of my best records – it has a kind of stress and hysteria to it, which I rather like! And then I did a single [Happy Holidays] under the name of 'Wonder Coyne' with a German so-called synthesizer genius. It wasn't a hit but it got lots of airplay in Germany. I've acted in a German film, and I've been in a hit musical for nearly three years now! It's a sell-out – it's on three or four times a month, and about 1,200 people come to see it every night! It's about the German U-Bahn – about life on the underground in Berlin. I play a rock star in a white suit! I've also had five exhibitions of paintings in the last year, and I've got a book coming out in the spring, a collection of short stories and drawings." (Melody Maker, Mar 3 1990)

"It's just like a dream, really. How did I ever get there? Cause I really belonged to South London for 17 years and I still think of myself as belonging there." (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Helmi Coyne: "He was like a lost soul. When you see him today, you wouldn't believe it. He often says moving to Nuremberg didn't do his career any good of course, because of all these people he knew before, nobody really helped him." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

Kevin Coyne: "I was still recovering when I released my early German recordings ('Romance Romance' etc.) and didn't really have control over them. But I started producing better stuff on Rockport. 'Elvira', for example, which was conceived as a one-woman show about a debutante who shot her boyfriend. It's never been performed. I hope someone does it eventually. I also did a mini-stage musical about Frank Randle, the comedian, called 'The Adventures of Crazy Frank'. Unfortunately my records aren't well distributed in Britain. Hopefully that'll change with 'Sugar Candy Taxi' on Ruf, which is my most honest in ages". (Mojo June 1999)

"Maybe, subconsciously, I blame music for the state I've been in." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

"I've had to develop my miming skills considerably, let's put it that way, because it's an audience – in Southern Germany at least – that doesn't understand much English. But I especially like Nuremberg because it's a small town, and a socialist town, and most of all because they take me seriously. In England I was often thought of as a marginal artist. But I never considered myself to be an eccentric performer. Only when drunk. Intensely practical, otherwise." (The Independent, October 27, 1988)

"Sometimes I do these songs in all sorts of strange places, with very strange reactions ocasionally. I once did that song ['Lunatic'] in Norway, and a man jumped on the stage and screamed in my face, 'Frank Zappa! More Frank Zappa!' Just shows you how clearly he understood everything I sang." (Live, 2001 )

"I love Nuremberg; they've been very good to me. Which is more that I can say for my home town in England. Certainly, they made me welcome. I have a lot of foundness for the Germans." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

"Germany is a good place to be after the trials of South London – peaceful and (dare I say it?) law abiding. I got sick of the violence and dispair – the thuggery and the fascism." August 2003 email to Nigel Burch

"I miss the ironic humour of British life. I've always regarded myself as a bit of a comedian on a good night, so it'll be nice to play to people who understand every word I say." (VPRO,199)

"Derby's quite pleasant really, but Nuremberg does look like Las Vegas in comparison. (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"German lack the ability to improvise. German musicians for example are great technically. They get it right but they can lose the spirit of the thing. They are very good at the techno-rock. In the 1970s I made a lot of records which I suppose you can only describe as miserable – but very valid for their times. The Germans liked them. They like a bit of blood and guts. They are a very self-searching people. I'm not such a misery now! I gave up drink a few years back and that has changed things a lot.

I miss cricket, fish and chips, nice things like that. English towns are more interesting and the landscape is more varied. The German tend to design things to death. The toilets all work and so on, but I miss bungling British ways." (Guardian, Mar 3 1993)

"What I don't miss [about England] is the cynicism and that blasé 'We've done it all'". (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"It's very hard to make it sort of loose here. They have a great respect for the machines, and the guitars all have to have six strings on them, and everything has to be in order. It doesn't suit my way of going about things. I've always thought they were the least important things, at least in what I did. Just to get it down and get it right, to get something of a feeling of how I feel, was the most important thing. But in many instances, it's not the case here. The most important thing is to get what they call a good studio sound. What the hell that is, I've never known, and I've never found out." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

Robert Steinhart:"Live it was fantastic (if he wasn`t too drunk, in the beginning...). I never played in a band with so much freedom to improvise, we never had a set list, most of the songs had no fixed arrangement – every time, anything could happen – it was the most important influence in my life as a musician…" (Interview with Pascal Regis, 2007)

Kevin Coyne: "Well they play differently there. They play with their fingers and certain Germanic sensibilities rather than their heart and their soul and British beat. It's a different technique; a different way of working. Rock as such, as we understand it in America and England, really doesn't exist in Germany. It exists, but it's German rock. They play ostensibly the same chords and stuff, but it doesn't feel the same, and they're not really what I'd describe as a rock'n'roll nation. It's a kanon, a Kraftswerk nation, a techno nation. That's what they do; they do this very well, but…" (La Folia 2001)

"I think a certain rigidity creeps in in the mid-'80s. There's a less flowing, sort of working with younger provincial German musicians. I don't say that in a nasty way, but it does show occasionally. A certain lack of improvisation in the studio. Possibly my least favorite albums are that period. But I love a lot of the last three albums. The new one I've just done ['Sugar Candy Taxi'] is the favorite, but on reflection the change was the working style in a German studio. It may be a cliché, but there's a certain rigidity there. It could be something to do with the language, too, the fact that I'm singing in English, and most of them are talking German, etc." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"I´ve met some of these in Germany, who think to have control of the instrument and the rest is this perfection, is the main thing. The main thing is to utilize the instrument to say something true and honest for yourself! The technique should come second in my opinion, and the same with the show. It doesn´t have to be perfect - I don´t want it to be perfect. If it is, it gets boring. The little mistakes are often the most interesting things. If Tom Jones´ toupee falls off during the show, that´s much more interesting than the show in my opinion – no I really mean this, this is what makes the show! My shows are never the same - the songs remain the same, but in between, the talk and everything, the general atmosphere can be very different from show to show. So if my shirt rips, or my trousers fall down – it´s all part of the show! That´s what I always say to guys working with me: 'Don´t take me seriously when the show´s on!' (Jazz Dimensions, 2001)

"Well, I think with Germans [rock and roll], it's not really part of their culture, I don't think. The rocker/boogie sort of transatlantic type of thing. Their thing is more tubas, leather shorts, and all that sort of thing, in my feeling. But, they do have a version of stomping along. I think that this comes from Kraftwerk and Can. They do have this original kind of modern rock music, and they have created something particularly that belongs to them that's their own. But, this kind of mid-Atlantic boogying thing, they copy but never quite get the feeling, in my feeling." (Interview by Chris Plummer, 1998)

"I feel like a citizen of the world. When I'm down I feel like a Brit abroad." (Guardian, Mar 3 1993)

"I feel like an exile. Sometimes, I feel like James Joyce in Paris. Maybe that's a little grandiose…" ('Loladamusica', 2001)

"I love English audiences because they are full of the wit, the humor. There is a lot of comedy in my show, and I don't want to be endlessly serious. I get really good audience in East Germany, for instance, you know, which is the former Communist bloc. I went there when the Wall came down, and the response was absolutely amazing, and they don't understand a lot of English there, or did at the time. But, if they really get the jokes, and they get the expanse of the thing, the breadth of what I do, then I appreciate that." (Interview by Chris Plummer, 1998)

“Thatcherism destroyed a great deal of the fabric in England. We’ve recovered, but there was not much tolerance coming from Thatcher. Brits are always downtrodden. The British Empire was built on slavery and vast profits have been made from people working their guts out for very little. However, like the variety in America, I wouldn’t want to be so severe on Capitalism. I’m not that dogmatic.” (beermelodies.com, 2000)

"I split up with my wife and moved into another relationship, basically. She lived in Germany so it’s gone on. I’ve since got married and, if such a word applies to me, settled in Nuremberg. It’s been quite difficult in some way because Nuremberg although it’s a large city is a province one really, But with modern communications you can get around. I’ve been using German musicians for many years but for the last couple of years have a band consisting of two Americans and an Englishman. It’s been difficult in some respects, especially here in England people don’t relate to Germany quite as easily as they relate to America so in that respect it’s quite difficult." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"I've had an exhibition running in Germany with my pictures. This is a very important part of my life, sharing equal billing with my music. I'm doing a programme for German radio next month of my favourite songs from an album called 'American Blues Roots.' I review albums for the Sud Deutsche Zeitung, which is a paper like The Observer. I do pictorial reviews, drawings and so on, based on the albums. Things come in all the time. Interesting things. I'm not tied to one particular thing." (Record Collector 'Short Takes' from July2002)

"And to finish, I'm honoured. The city of Nuremberg football academy has asked me to join them this year. What this entails isn't very clear but I love the idea. A Derby County fanatic asked to air his views amidst a group of equally fanatical German football fans? It could prove interesting. I can't wait for my first meeting." (Kevin's newsletter, October 2004)

Thomas Ruf: M. Coyne blew my mind when I personally attended the recording session [of 'Sugar Candy Taxi'] to become familiar with his style of working. First thing I had to do after entering the studio was take a phone call. Kevin said he was going to 'warm up' in the meantime. I took a piss (sorry, but this is a true story!) after the phone call and went into the control room to take my 'producer's chair'. Kevin just walked out of the recording room and I asked how the soundcheck was going. 'Well, we just laid down the second song!' Late afternoon the next day, 19 songs were recorded. You might have seen jazz musicians improvising instrumental solos of a theme or a chord or a song. This man goes in and plays acoustic guitar and improvises a whole song with lyrics and melody off the top of his head." (Ruf Records press release for 'Sugar Candy Taxi')

John Peel: "He's continued doing what he liked doing, what he does well, on his own terms. The fact that he's still doing it now is indicative of some kind of integrity, and his creativity seems undiminished. He's a man who's made me laugh and he's made me cry. There aren't many people whom I can say that." ('Loladamusica', 2001)

Andy Kershaw: "The strange thing about him is that he gets better as he gets older, his voice especially. He was a punk 20 years ago. And he's still a punk. Why we don't value him more I don't know. Because he's a lost national treasure." (The Sunday Correspondent, Mar 4 1990)

Kevin Coyne: "I tend to think I maybe not relaxed anywhere. That might just be me, might not be Germany, might not be anywhere. The problem is probably me. But it's not a big problem now, I'm used to myself. Whether others are, I'm not so sure!" ('Loladamusica', 2001)

"A friend stopped me the other day. He said: 'What's wrong, Kevin? You look – how can I put it – happy' I said: 'I am'. He said: 'You are? Oh, dear." (Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

'Stumbling Onto Paradise' (1987)

The first German album, which passed almost unnoticed at the time due to lack of distribution. In retrospect, this isn't such a bad one, it's the next albums that are really poor. Still, the clean break between this and earlier albums, the violent immersion into a sound overworked by neat studio musicians is hard to take for a 'Marjory Razorblade' fan. If 'Tear Me Up' and 'Victoria Smiles' manage to explore new avenues, the rest succumb to some disheartening clichés ('Back Home Boogie', 'How Is Your Luck' ).

Kevin Coyne: "You could hear it on the radio quite comfortably without saying 'Well, that's a bit strange'". (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Everybody's Naked' (1988)

'Romance-Romance' (1990)

'Wild Tiger Love' (1991)

Nothing could be further from earthy Coyne blues and studio improvisation than the meticulous chill of the German musicians who formed the Paradise Band from 1985 to 1992 and recorded 'Everybody's Naked', 'Romance-Romance' and 'Wild Tiger Love'. However, they don't deserve a stoning. Without all those fine people – and particularly his second wife – Kevin would probably have paid with his life.
Depressed and disinterested, he recorded these three poor albums, without much conviction. In contrast to earlier albums, where he controlled the musicians, taking the best of each and 'Coynifying' it, here he was merely strolling.
Super clean, with ordinary music, these discs have next to nothing memorable about them, even if hard-core devotees perhaps find traces of former genius within the syrup or the hard teutonic middle-of-the-road. ('Take Me Back In Your Arms', 'The Bungalow Song'). This was apparently a necessary step in escaping from the abyss.

Kevin Coyne: "It's not one of my favorite ['Everybody's Naked'], I have to say. It's kind of smooth. I think the engineer was as much to with that as anything else. And it lacked a certain roughness, which Pukke did like. He once said to me: 'I hate the blues'. And I thought 'Well, everything you do is rooted in the blues'. Was he was saying was he didn't like anything which was too rough. […] I had stopped guitar. The engineer said he couldn't record me singing and playing at the same time (laughs). I had lost a lot of confidence at the time, too. The albums might sound fairly forthright but I was not at my best… I was rather doing it for the money." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"When I went to Germany, I made numerous records, none of which I like to be perfectly honest. I wanted to make consciously happy music, in reaction to the darkness I'd been through. I'd been running from what happened, it took me a long time to come back. But now I've gone full-circle. I'm playing properly again. The last two albums ['Sugar Candy Taxi' and 'Room full of Fools'] are, I think, real Kevin Coyne records." (Independent.co.uk, 2001)

"There was an attempt to 'sweeten' things a little bit. The real Kevin Coyne is something else I think – has a little more edge."

Horst Spandler: "'Wild Tiger Love' is also a tribute to Helmi and in some of the songs he expresses his love for her. Maybe his being in love has taken away some of the edge of his voice here, but it has also taken away quite a bit of his bitterness – which of course made some of his earlier work attractive in a way; but there is nothing wrong with a happier Kevin! By 1991, when Wild Tiger Love was published, he was back on his feet again. I don`t think that by then he was still dependent on the band much; if he hadn`t liked their playing he could have chosen other musicians." (Posted on the Kevin Coyne Group)

'Pretty Park' live in the 90s

'Burning Head' (1992)

What a daft idea! Coyne had returned to painting and by the start of the '90s his German exhibitions were going pretty well. So record company Rockport suggested he release his next album as a limited edition of 1,000, including an original artwork with each copy, at a price of.... 350 deutschmarks! Suffice it to say that over ten years later the 1,000 copies are still not sold out (notice to converts: negotiation possible..).
'Burning Head' was a turning point. Most of it is like earlier German efforts, dominated by Hans Pukke and his immaculate production, but Coyne was waking up and penned several songs with his rudimentary guitar accompaniment of old.
'Burning Head' also marked the appearance of Robert Coyne, Kevin's second son, who would soon aid his father's musical reawakening. 'Hope The Devil Don't Come' has a flavour of Springsteen, and 'Totally Naked' is 100% Coyne. He would soon be back!

Kevin Coyne: "That's an album with a drawing. Each album has an individual drawing done by me. It's an edition of 1,000, with a CD, and rather expensive, but the price has gone down now. Which was an idea from the last company, Rockport Records. Yes, the print is the size of the CD; it's a handmade cover. No, the music are not available elsewhere, theoretically, but it slips out on one or two albums. Two of the songs have appeared on other albums, but different mixes."(La Folia 2001)

'Burning Head'

'Tough And Sweet' (1993)

'Tough And Sweet' confirmed the comeback. With the help of his two sons, Coyne returned to basics. Soulless virtuosity was on the way out, along with impersonal production. Kevin was once more provided with the necessary backing for his improvisations.
Robert's Les Paul sound recalls Bolan. Kevin was back in form. 'Let's Get Romantic', a duo with his older son Eugene, is a joy. Hans Pukke and Henry Beck still provided their compositions, unbalancing the album somewhat, but this kind of fire and ice had become familiar in a Coyne album. Things were back on track: 'Tough And Sweet' already anticipated the excellent 'Sugar Candy Taxi'.

Kevin Coyne: "I wanted to get back to that element of slight madness and eccentricity, the feeling that you can really sing about anything. Hans Pukke did a lot of good work [before that album]. It was unfortunate about him, he wasn't really sacked so much as he sacked himself. He didn't seem to want to go on. But consequently, 'Tough and Sweet' came out, which was not necessarily the sort of album he'd be involved in because he wouldn't have had such a starring role, maybe, in it.

'Totally Naked', that's a nice song. I thought that was a return to form. I mean, you might say that was lost for 7 or 8 years. There was an emphasis on band pieces, co-composed, and it was almost forgotten that I'm a songwriter. I think I lost confidence a bit. Or maybe, I wasn't interested any more." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Mansion of Dreams' (1993)

'Opera for Syd' (1999)

Invited by jazz musician Achim Goettert to join him and his musicians in these two live projects, Coyne rises to the challenge with an absolutly amazing lyrics improvisation, each song totally different from one show to another. On the 'Opera for Syd', the interaction with performance artist David Moss rises to unheard heights.

Achim Goettert: 'Kevin was one of my favourite rock singers since the end of the '70s. I met him in Nürnberg in 1993, because I planned a concert for the Gostenhofer Jazztage, a jazz-festival in Nürnberg, which I was leading. I asked him to join a project with my music and his lyrics, that we called 'Mansion of Dreams'. We had one successful concert in a church, which was recorded.

One year later, we performed this music in Berlin in a double concert with the Ute Kannenberg Band. Radio Brandenburg recorded this night.

After that we were invited to the Jazz festival 'Leipziger Jazztage' with a new project 'Opera for Syd' in 1999 (MDR recording). We repeated the concert at the Gostenhofer Jazztage. I released a recording.

For the first concert Kevin arrived from Belgium one or two hours before the show started. So we had a short rehearsal. Nevertheless the music developed magically. In 1999, he refused any rehearsal. But the show in Leipzig was a hit. It was one of my biggest thing. Every musician in my band was prepared best, my music worked out fine and the stars had a lot of fun together on stage. Kevin was centre of the 'opera' and told his story about Syd Barrett. David Moss, as counterpoint, put in the necessary spices to make it a really avant-garde happening between rock and improvised music. Kevin was a genious…

My experiences [with Coyne] were all in all great. He was kind and open minded to work with the collegues in a most concentrated way. No star allures were disturbing our work. He was very professional and straight. On stage he was immediately exploding and capturing the audience. It was a pleasure and an honour to work with him. It is a pity that we could not repeat our work. An agent tried some things, but the project was too far out and between the seats.

We met sometimes in Nürnberg, sometimes I visited him at home and we had some intensive discussions." (Interview with Uwe Schillhabel, Sep 2009)

'The Adventures of Crazy Frank' (1995)

Coyne was always fed by English music-hall tradition (for example in the hilarious old songs 'Karate King' or 'Good Boy' as well as in the theatrical flavour of his performances).

'The Adventures Of Crazy Frank' is a complete piece inspired by the life of Frank Randle, the alcoholic English comedian of the '40s and '50s. Coyne, who was attending Alcoholics Anonymous, turned over a page of his past in telling these stories of the DT's and broken marriages, all in good humour.

'Crazy Frank' is a pleasant acoustic album, and ex-Paradise Band bassist Friedl Pohrer reveals himself as a good accompanist, discreet but effective.

Kevin Coyne: "Frank Randall was a music hall artist. He was a drunk driven mad by drink – something I'm familiar with (although I haven't had a drink for 17 years), but also a brilliantly funny knockabout comedian. I admire his tortured, mixed up style, although I'm fully aware how close he was to the edge. I've been there, I understand. I write about life's eccentrics and madness posing as sanity. The two things are closely connected. My art is also closely connected to the music and the writing. The same figure appears; the same situation arise. I try to add humour to much of my work, often putting written comments on the work to guide the viewer. What am I? Cartoonist? Primitive? None of these? I just do it because I have to do it." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004, published in Mental Health magazine, Feb 2005)

"Friedl Pohrer gave me a cassette with half a dozen songs on it. He was always under-used in the old days. Pukke always dominated the situation." (1996 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

'Knocking On Your Brain' (1996)

A step backwards, although 'Knocking On Your Brain' got a good press at the time, mainly thanks to the presence of Beefheart guitarist Gary Lucas, who co-wrote two titles, 'Wonderland' and 'English Rose'. The other musicians were top German session-players who jammed together, leaving Coyne free to improvise at will.
The results were mixed, and some terrible gaffes (the awful German reggae of 'Aching Heart') ruin a double CD where greater selectivity should perhaps have reduced it to a single disc.The fine autobiographical ballad 'Weirdo' is notable.

Kevin Coyne: "If I had to recommend anything in the mid-90s it's a double album called 'Knocking On Your Brain', which featured a very high class and well respected group of German musicians from bands you probably never heard of. The album worked out extremely well. It also featured Gary Lucas, Captain Beefheart's guitarist, who was on a couple of tracks and I've worked with periodically." (Record Collector, July2002)

Gary Lucas: "Kevin said: 'I'm aware I've been called the British Beefheart, and I love the Captains work. We had similar influences. We both listen to the same guys. People would say I was imitating him and I'd say 'No, we both liked Howlin’ Wolf and we both liked Muddy Waters'.' I think they do have similar backgrounds, and Kevin's got a touch of 'the madness'. But Kevin didn't seem really like a mean person. Beefheart could be extremely malicious if you got him in the wrong mood." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

"Kevin Coyne was truly one of the unjustly unrecognized geniuses of music. On the tracks we did in 1996 for 'Knocking On Your Brain', I showed up to the studio in Dusseldorf with two intact instrumentals in my head which I thought would make great music for Kevin to sing to, ran them down to Kev and his sympathetic German band for the very first time in about five minutes. The band and I then recorded the tracks very quickly without overdubs – and then Kevin stepped up to the mic and totally extemporized the lyrics and melody. And he was stone brilliant. We stopped and started a few times for the first tune, 'Wonderland', which Kevin originally called 'Disneyland', singing 'I'm goin' to Disneyland' as the refrain, until I warned him we might be open to legal action for using the name Disneyland without permission (especially in the context of the lyric, where Disneyland represented… well, you'll just have to go dig up this album, won't you).

The second tune 'English Rose' flowed just like honey, and both of them I think are two of my best song collaborations, certainly ranking with 'Grace' and 'Mojo Pin' which I wrote with Jeff Buckley. Same collaborative methodology, with me giving the singer/partner a finished instrumental to complete – except Jeff would go off for sometimes months at a time and come back with lyrics and a melody to match my instrumentals – Kevin did it right on the spot. And Kevin was always never less than amazing; he had one of the sharpest fastest minds I have ever encountered in action outside Don Van Vliet [Captain Beefheart]. And a rich, theatrical voice that would melt your heart one second and then nail you to the wall as he shouted the blues. He admired Don's work […] Kevin and I recorded five more unreleased tracks in a studio in Nuremberg in 2000 when I stayed a few days with him and his lovely wife in the midst of a solo European tour. His paintings were really great too, the man also wrote funny and beautiful stories for Serpent's Tail Press you would do well to seek out. What a drag". (2004)

Kevin Coyne: "'Mr Pinko' is a sort of anti-Blair thing." (1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Gary Lucas: "I first heard Kevin in all his bluesy whimsical glory after I sent my parents on a mission in the spring of 1969 on one of their regular trips to London to bring back for me my boy Syd Barrett's first solo album 'The Madcap Laughs', and the clerk in the shop on Oxford Street pressed a copy of Siren's first album on them to also take home for their Anglophile son (he also talked them into bringing me back a copy of Black Sabbath's debut… guess which album I wound up treasuring… in fact, I think I'll burn the first Siren album into ITunes right now). Many years later I came to collaborate with Kevin after the booker in a club in Belgium I was playing solo casually mentioned that in his estimation he thought the two of us would be a good fit playing together; I jumped at the suggestion and took Kevin's phone number from him, called the man up, and we hit it off instantly… it is thus on such impulse that many of my best collaborations are born.

My favorite later album besides 'Knocking On Your Brain' is 'The Adventures of Crazy Frank'. (2004)

"According to Rolling Stone, 'Coyne can write great songs in his sleep.' Coyne says his song 'Peachtree Avenue' is about suburban life in Nuremberg: 'I consider myself to be a commentator on leafy avenues and suburbia at the weekends. People washing their cars on Sunday afternoons. I'm endlessly fascinated by this. I live amid it, really, it's a bit proletarian where I live.''' (International Herald Tribune, 2002)

'Kevin's Happy Home'

'Sugar Candy Taxi' (1999)

'My most honest record in years'

Robert Coyne had a free hand and co-wrote all the songs. His almost naive style sets the tone of a charming album, the most effective of all Kevin's '90s output.
Robert embellishes the production with some beautiful layered organ that lends a pleasing subtlety to the title track (a jokey incident involving Al Capone).
Besides some pleasant and effective boogie ('My Wife's Best Friend' and 'Happy Little Fat Man', which Kevin usually dedicated to himself on stage), the album also marked the return of barmy numbers ('Almost Flying', and 'Fly'), and solo ('Porcupine People').

Kevin Coyne: “Robert [Coyne] formerly played in his own band, Silver Chapter, with my other son, Eugene. Their current project is called Mean Vincent. They’ve got some British press. Rob’s writing comes more from a garage background. He likes Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators. He’s also keeping busy with his newest band, Venus Ray." (beermelodies.com, 2000)

"1999 was a year of change. My move from Rockport Records to Ruf Records proved quite traumatic. I left Rockport because of the limited distribution and lack of publicity for my material. It was hard but necessary. The frustration of making heartfelt records that no-one outside of Germany could buy almost led to my retirement from the scene. Ruf Records with its universal distribution changed all that. Applause for Mr Thomas Ruf! With the release of 'Sugar Candy Taxi', I am becoming truly international again." (Kevin's newsletter, December)

"To be honest, there is never any conflicts [with Robert Coyne]. We never fall out about anything. Never, since he was a baby - I can not remember having one argument with him! He is not the sort of guy arguing. He does what he does - I do what I do. He is just a very easy, very creative musician – it is a pleasure to work with him. I am very fortunate. If he was no good, he wouldn´t be here, I can tell you that!" (Jazz Dimensions, 2001)

"…rather raw, naked and back to basics. I resisted the attempts to decorate it and fuss about, and left it pretty well as it is." (BBC Radio, 1999)

"'Sugar Candy Taxi' is a song about sexist Al Capone and a girlfriend called Tina. It should sound sad and mysterious and full of longing. I hope it does.

'Porcupine People' is about my sometimes unbearable sensitivity. It's all done with humour though. To be as paranoid as I am is a joke.

'Highway of Dreams': A dainty morsel for my beloved Helmi. What more can I say?

'Happy Little Fat Man': This is a song about joy, happy hysteria, laughter. True love is the best thing around, who cares about being fat?

'The Garden Gate Song' contains observations about old age. I'm a little scared of it. What if I can't walk anymore? What if I need oiling like a rusty old gate?

'I'm into your game' is a song about telephone sex. Nothing more to say.

'My Wife's best Friend'. A generous dose of hot, throbbing fantasy. Something to do with sex slavery perhaps?

'Little White Arms'. My shortest song ever about a short, sensual beauty with lovely white arms.

'Rusting away' is another song about fading into old age. It's a cousin to 'The Garden Gate Song'. Falling apart and being unable to cope is a horror I hope to avoid. An old folks home down the road was the inspiration for this.

'Bird Brain'. A vicious attack on the empty headed, brutally ill-mannered types I sometimes encounter. I get fed up of being a minor public figure. I'm not a punch bag.

'Tiger Lillian'. A heartfelt song about an oriental woman from South London. Did she exist? Not telling.

'Fly' A song about the eternal urge to get away from everything. Eugene (my eldest son) performs well on this.

'Almost Dying' concerns itself with lost love, empty rooms, silent telephone, the English coastline. Breaking up is a cruel business.

'Normal Man'. A confused individual (myself) rants against the world. Am I going mad or am I 'normal'?

'It Hurts'. The pain buries itself at the back of the soul. Some things we never get over.

'Lancashire Song'. A tune about a long lost love for the English county of Lancashire. The memories linger once again. No regrets." (From Chris Plummer's late Coyne website)

'I like Al Capone, in a strange kind of way. He reminds me of a waiter I used to know. He was not Italian, he was Polish!" (Live jokes, 2001)

'The Garden Gate Song'

'Room Full of Fools' (2000)

A worthy successor to 'Sugar Candy Taxi', this album drives home the point. The title track is again an effective T. Rex-type boogie. Strange songs alternate with nice nostalgic ballads. A pleasingly similar flavour to its predecessor, 'Room Full of Fools' has Coyne in good form improvising in the studio again ('The Einstein Song', 'Whispering Desert').

Kevin Coyne: "This CD is for all of these people who might think I'm fading away into feeble old age. It's a set of songs for the passionate, the heartbroken and sometimes cynical. I had a lot of fun making it. My recording sessions in the U.S. (the first for me) were a triumph of fast food, fueled energy and lust for the improvisation. I tried to say what I had to say as honestly as possible.

Robert [Coyne], particularly, astounded me constantly with his feel for my kind of writing and singing. It's handy when ones son is a talented multi instrumentalist. Songs like 'Sugar Candy Taxi', 'Room full of Fools' and 'I'm Wild' bear witness to his abilities (particulary his rough edged powerhouse guitar style). Working with him was a delight.

This is something like (I've lost count) my fortieth album. When I started with Siren in 1968 I never imagined I'd still be turning them out thirty-two years later." (Ruf Recods press release for the album)

Jon Langford: ['Einstein Song']: "I thought it was a really profound song about a father's relationship with his son – he told me it was about the engineer in the studio." (Memorial Night, Chicago, 2005)

Kevin Coyne: “That song ['I Can’t Make It'] was done totally spontaneously. It’s a recollection of a seaside holiday” (beermelodies.com, 2000)

'God Watches'

'Life Is Almost Wonderful' (2002)

"Pass me the memories, I want to hear the laughter"

Why this one didn't win a four-star rating in all the rock (or folk) magazines and a place among the classics of 2002 is a mystery… except that a complete absence of distribution didn't exactly help. Also the CD was only sold – expensively – at concerts by the duo. If they had set out to be invisible they couldn't have planned it much better.
Coyne and Croker – who has played with Clapton and Knopfler – are two artists not bothered about record company deals, distribution and other practical matters. Never mind, the main thing is this marvellous acoustic album.

Although 'recorded by post' (Croker sent the basic guitar tracks and Kevin improvised the lyrics on top), the album is an amazing symbiosis, as if the two were on exactly the same wavelength. The promotional tour also confirmed this: it was a joy to see Croker guffawing at Kevin's rants.

There are too many great titles to detail here. 'Life Is Almost Wonderful' is a masterpiece where Coyne, with Croker's acoustic backing (some lavish guitar-harp included), conjures up wartime memories, the '50s of his childhood, catholic schools and other peculiar subjects such as the multicoloured eyes of parrots and the story of an English clerk trying to dig through his garden to Australia.

Brendan Croker: "In my opinion Kevin is the only English Blues singer ever. There are lots of people who dabble in the arts but very few artists… he is one of the few." (adastra-music.co.uk 2002)

Kevin Coyne: "It came about because I met Brendan Croker some years ago at a gig in Bradford, Yorkshire, at a venue called The Corn Exchange. Then, last year, I did a small tour of England and he arrived on the scene and said he would like to support me for free. I said, 'Well, go on and do half an hour to 40 minutes' and I liked him. From that we thought maybe we could take it further. He came to my place in Nuremberg for a week and we did some recording, tried a few things out. Then he sent me some tunes on CD, which I used in the studio and sang over. Then the stuff seemed to gel, spontaneous though pretty well all of it was. He was so enthused he went and put out a record, at least a limited edition. It's a good insight into the way I work now. Most of it is improvisation, rooted on a regular musical basis, but the lyrics are in the main improvised on the night, to suit the occasion and the mood. I like working like that." (Record Collector, July 2002)

Brendan Croker: "The idea of working with Kevin Coyne came to me when I was sat thinking about how most categories of excellence are open to debate. But then you ask yourself: 'Who is the greatest British blues performer?' There's no question – it's Kevin Coyne. Some people are artists by profession, but Coyne is creative on many levels, full-time, by nature. He's that very rare thing: the complete artist. He sees the world differently." (Independent.co.uk, 2002)

Kevin Coyne: "Playing and singing with Brendan was one of the more pleasurable things I've done in the past few years. Our appearance together on BBC's Andy Kershaw show received lots of positive feedback too. Andy's passion for what we do made everything go with the swing. There was much laughter around. More gigs with Brendan are being organised for October-November in Belgium, Holland and possibly France. A limited edition CD of our show, called 'Life is almost wonderful' is available at gigs and on this website." (Kevin's newsletter, June 2002)

"I don't think either of us have expectations of this CD going platinum. In fact, the first pressing of the album is a limited edition of 500 copies, to be sold only at the gigs, so if it did suddenly take off, we'd be in serious trouble. Come to think of it, that may well happen. That would be just my luck." (Independent.co.uk, 2002)

"My November duo shows in Belgium and Holland with Brendan Croker are proving to be a genuine success, with excellent attendances and a wonderfully warm response from everybody. It appears the mixtures of improvised lyrics and strong songs (with a dash of humour) really works. Expect more of the same in the new year." Kevin's newsletter, November 2002

'Whispers in the Night", live with Croker, 2002

'Carnival' (2002)

'Carnival' is in the same vein as 'Sugar Candy Taxi' and 'Room Full Of Fools' but the songs are perhaps a little less easy.

It marked the arrival of American Michael Lipton, a fine guitarist who played with Coyne on his U.S. tours (Kevin had only begun performing in the U.S. about ten years earlier, to polite indifference). Lipton would also appear on the next CD and here contributes 'Charlene', a fine ballad. Robert leads his dad in an improbable quasi-techno reprise of 'Rolling And Tumbling' that is quite effective.

"A Kevin Coyne dance album? Not quite, but Carnival has as many moments of upbeat joy as pained contemplation. Tired of being consigned to a pigeonhole for troubled eccentrics, the prolific novelist/artist/musician now resident in Germany lets loose on the Bobby Parker-alike 'Wobble' and gives his unique twist to the stabbing electro of 'Party Party Party'. Coyne's partnership with son Robert (co-producer/songwriter) continues to mine new territory. The spare, icy poetry of 'Missing You' masterfully contrasts with a seething rearrangement of Muddy Waters' 'Rolling And Tumbling'. Only a true original could breath new life into the latter, and Coyne still fits that bill." (Uncut, 2002)

"If you wanted you could say that 'Carnival' has a theme to it, and you wouldn't be far off because all of the songs relate to love in some way or another. Love with a capital L for the love of the life love; the love we try and maintain with friends; and the insecurity that love and need for love brings out in all of us.

The whole mixed bag is here in fifteen songs that range musically from hard rock blues of 'Stop Picking On Me', to the almost dance beats of 'Party, party, party' and almost every other form of blues, pop, and rock you can think of in between. As in his other discs, the music is the vehicle he uses to drive the emotions of the songs.

There are certain people whose voices can't help but to express the lives they've lived through up to that point in their lives. Kevin was on such a person, and whether he knew it or not, the sounds of his survival echoed like a ghost refrain behind his lyrics.

But of course, he still has fun with at the same time or proves that he's not immune to sentimentality completely. 'The Wobble' is just a funny little song where he tells a girlfriend who's shy about dancing that she just get up an wobble. She likes it so much that she wobbles everywhere she goes from then on and then the whole world wobbles because of her." (Leap in the Dark, 2002)

'One Day in Chicago' (2002)

"Like a young hunting dog, straining on his leash"

Invited in December 2002 to play a show in Chicago by his old friend Jon Langford (of Mekons fame), Coyne agrees to spend time in the studio with Langford musicians. In a frenzied session, Kevin rushes into an amazing and endless improvisation the musicians just have to follow. The bonus tracks recorded live at The Old Town School of Folk Music make of this 'One Day in Chicago' an excellent album, a proof how Coyne had lost nothing of his creativity and edge only two years before he died.

Jon Langford:"Advance tickets sales were so bad for the last Chicago show I had to beg, bribe and threaten people to turn up. Kevin was charming, rude and hilarious, vogueing for the crowd like some mad medieval friar while ad-libbing whole songs with masterful ease and precision. The crows was amazed (Kevin was amazing) and I got phone calls and e-mails for days from grateful friends I'd bullied into coming." (Mojo, January 2005)

"We went into the studio mainly to kind of rehearse [for the shows] an he had an idea that maybe we could record something – we didn't really have anything planned, I hadn't written anything and he hadn't written anything, and we went into the studio and he just kind of exploded. Before we even got the mikes set, before we could even get the drums up, Kevin was like a young hunting dog, straining on his leash. And he had to go in the studio and record – he did three songs before we even got to set the drums up. They were just in his head and they had to come out instantly." (Memorial Night, Chicago, 2005)

"I made a record with Kevin Coyne, who's a singer/songwriter from England, who I was enamored with from a young age. A notoriously difficult guy, someone that I was told would be horrible to meet. I was scared. When I met him, he was great. We got on, we had some fun, and made an album together; had a really nice time." (Interview with DE Rosso, 2011)

'Money like Water'

'Donut City' (2004)

The band on 'Donut City' was Coyne's last stage combo: Andreas Bluml, Harry Hirschmann and Werner Steinhauser, who also co-produces. They were joined on a few tracks by Robert Coyne, again contributing some of his slightly troubled, hypnotic pop tunes, and Michael Lipton, who closes out the album banging on his reverb unit.

Coyne unusually composed several songs on the piano, and he had a very personal playing method. To use the Beefheart analogy one last time, Kevin played piano as the good Captain used to play sax…

Musically, we run through all aspects of Coyne's talent: acoustic blues-rock, with the trademark basic strumming. 'No More Rain', a kind of country-pop ballad recalling the classic 'Marlene'. Then a swerve into pure delirium with the eerie 'I Hear Voices' or the pure madness of 'Come Back Home', a gospel prayer backed by fisted, distorted piano.

Not to forget 'Big Fat Bird', with the Coyne speciality of a background voice repeating a rhythmic phrase throughout the song, reminiscent of the unforgettable 'Mona Where's My Trousers'.

'Crocodile' works as a metaphor for his illness, while the superb 'Smile Right Back' is worthy of 'Beautiful Extremes'.

As on most of his albums, Coyne improvised both music and lyrics in the studio, so that the musicians recorded their parts after the vocals: a back to front world.

"'Donut City' is an album full of musical surprises, a mixture of melody, blues realism and rich humour with a fair sprinkling of love ballads. It was made over a period of twelve month and reflects the ups and downs of a difficult year. Kevin was diagnosed with lung fibrosis (an illness that creates severe breathing difficulties) over a year ago, a situation that made the artist even more determined to express himself freely.

Turpentine records is to be the vehicle for Coyne's musical ideas. 'Donut City' has all the qualities that made albums like 'Millionaires and Teddy Bears' and 'Marjorie Razorblade' such classics. The CD was produced in the Musication Studios, Nuremberg, Germany.

'Donut City' is dedicated to the individualist in all of us, to those that have grown tired of mass produced meaningless emotion. Stand out tracks are 'Locked out', which features some stirring Kevin Coyne piano, and the humorous slice of social comment 'Donut City'" (Label press release)

Kevin Coyne: "I wrote this when I was stuck out in New England about five years ago. There seemed to be nothing there except a Dunkin Donuts'. So that's where we spent two weeks, me and my dear wife, sitting amidst the donuts. I learned something about America there; I'm not sure what. […] Probably one of the pointless songs I've ever written. It really has no point to it at all." (Live in-beetween songs joke)

'Underground' (2004)

"I´m not goin’ anywhere. I´m goin’ home. I hope I´m goin’ home"

As with any posthumous record, one wonders how the artist would have wanted the final product. Compared to the roughness of 'One Night in Chicago', there are here some pretty arrangements and backing vocals as well as some rather weak songs. Still, two songs will stand as Kevin Coyne's testament: 'Underground' and 'Baby Billy' will be remembered as beautiful and moving songs by an artist lucidly facing the idea of his death.

Helmi Coyne: "On the 20th December 2005, Kevin's new album "Underground" will be released. It's the result of recordings Kevin made on and off in that last year, between April and October 2004, and it's thanks to the joint effort of Kevin's band, friends and family that we've managed to get it out. I'm proud to say that renowned artist Ralph Steadman did the cover and, to coincide with the album's release, journalist Robert Chalmers wrote a fine article for the Independent." (Helmi's news letter, December 2005)

Mike Barnes:"The recording sessions for Underground were completed in Nuremberg two months before Kevin Coyne’s death in December 2004. By then advanced pulmonary fibrosis had left the singer wheelchair-bound and hooked up to an oxygen supply. Terrible circumstances to live with, let alone write and record an album. But this CD doesn’t give you a great talent in decline. Far from it. With 'Underground', Coyne has produced an album that isn’t merely good considering the circumstances, it’s a great collection of songs whichever way you choose to measure it. And the fact that he could – through his music – transcend his physical circumstances is extraordinary. His voice was still in great shape too, more so than anyone - his doctors included - could have reasonably expected. It’s difficult at times like this to avoid sounding trite or glib. Suffice it to say that we all want to leave our mark, but few musicians have given us a swansong as vital as this. […]

Down the years, the enthusiasm of musicians to sing about their offspring has often caused embarrassment among those not so intimately acquainted with the song’s subject. But the closing track on Underground, 'Baby Billy' – which Coyne addresses to his young grandson – is a beautiful letter-in-song from a man to a child barely old enough to be able to remember him, written in the recognition that as one cycle ends another begins. As always, Coyne tells it exactly like it is; the song’s strength is that it’s extraordinarily poignant, but comes without a trace of mawkishness. And it’s difficult – impossible, actually – to think of another artist who could have pulled that one off. " (2006)

Eugene Coyne: "I couldn't believe how much Billy [Eugene's son] looked like you. When you saw the photos, I know it made you happy. It's funny how you almost shyly sing 'Let's face it, you look a little like me'. In these pictures, he's the spit of you. 'Baby Billy' is a special song. I know it meant a lot to you. As he grows older, I'm sure it will mean the same to Billy. After all, it is 'just for you, nobody else'. In a way, it reminds me of 'Sunday Morning Surnrise', and how that song makes me feel… Park Court, when Rob and I wee kids…" (Liner notes to 'Underground')

Werner Steinhauser: "There was never a song list for the shows. Your reaction to the audience was always intuitive – you announced the songs spontaneously. You had an unerring instinct for what the show needed. Every concert was different. Sometimes, you turned around to me to say: 'Just play something'. So I started a playing any groove, the guitarist joined in and you started singing. We created a new song – spontaneously – unrepeatable. Like this, we produced most of the recordings for the CD we did together. Andreas [Blüml] came up with some harmony changes, I tried a groove, we played a few bars and, when you liked it, pressed the recording button (my drum kit was set up right to the mixing desk). There was never than one or two – maybe three – takes, and we mostly kept the first one, even if it wasn't perfect – the first take always had the best feeling and tension. (Liner notes to 'Underground')

Robert Coyne: "I've come to understand that what was normal to me – love, laughter, spontaneity and creativity, joy and pain, anger and a good deal of shouting, loud music, irreverence and enthusiasm, great seriousness and greater silliness, a particular pleasure in absurdity – is actually not normal at all. I was tremendously fortunate to grow up with these things, and your incredible capacity to appreciate life." (Liner notes to 'Underground')

Books

Kevin Coyne: "I may even get something published. I just need an editor who can get me arse off the ground. Just like the drawing and the painting. It's nice to get things out and show them to people. An exhibition of Coyne-on-the road drawings was held in Germany recently but past encounters with the 'ART WORLD' haven't exactly inspired." (Sounds, April 14, 1979)

"The best songs are really little stories, and little stories is what I'm really best at writing. I'm trying to create a genre with these losers. But rather amiable losers, in the main. And a bit bonkers. But are they bonkers, you know?" (1994 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

['The Party Dress']: "Tiny miracles of compression […] An original, eccentric voice, particularly affecting when speaking through characters whose peculiarity has moved them to the margins of society, where they are ignored or despised as specters of our own worst fears of ourselves." (The Village Voice)

"A collection of short stories and illustrations that might well amount to the finest literary achievement yet by a rock singer … Sad, funny, horrific, sexy, compassionate and absurd." (Blitz)

"The characters in Kevin Coyne’s stories are bewildered by life’s little ironies, but strange, startling experiences and insights lift their lives out of the ordinary. He writes about so-called 'mad' people, about their visions, their spirituality, about the lonely twilight world they live in. Influenced both by the deadpan humour of Harold Pinter and Samuel Beckett and by the music-hall comedy of Al Read and Robb Wilton, Kevin Coyne combines the comic and the tragic in these subtle tales which leave a lasting, pleasurable afterglow, and in his pictures which illustrate this book."

Kevin Coyne: ['Show Business'] "A sense of the British musician's overriding sense of cynicism about everything rather creeps into that book on occasion. A lot of it comes from that time, mid-'70s touring and things said, in vans and in dressing rooms. It's still with a sense of humor, I hope. A lot of people seem to think it was done out of bitterness, which it certainly isn't. It's done with a sense of horror, really, at how these things – they're versions of things which really did happen. It was meant to amuse, but certain people didn't like it, maybe because they saw something of themselves in it, I don't know. I don't care either, really. All I know is that the musicians who've read it have laughed their heads off. I must be reaching somebody and doing the right thing." (Interview with Richie Unterberger, 1988)

"'Show Business' is a collection of stories about the real business of entertainment. Reality is a jungle full of phony agents, spoilt artistes and corrupt businessmen. Kevin Coyne portrays an array of hustlers, naifs and people who take themselves far too seriously. Coyne’s short stories are a window on a strange way of life. Show biz is tough, and the cynicism and weariness that emerge are hardly surprising. But there’s a touching naivety about these characters who hang on in there despite everything. Kevin Coyne knows show business intimately. His perception of it is insightful and funny."

Kevin Coyne: "It's hard not to be cynical. Over the years I often played with so called 'has beens' who play TV or summer festivals in Belgium or Latvia or somewhere, and all these old heroes appear again, singing their one hit. And it's very sad but sometimes very amusing too." (BBC Radio 4's Kaleidoscope, 1993)

['Elvis, Ich Und Die Anderen']: "It's just little snippets, short fantasy pieces about Elvis, turning him into a very normal guy. One of the stories that seem to make everybody laugh is that somebody who buys a pair of Elvis' old pajamas in a shop and takes them home and wears them in bed and the legs start moving and gyrating and he becomes, generally, sort of oversexed. His wife, who had long been ignored, approves." (Charleston Gazette, 2000)

"I love writing, my last three books have all come out in German, so they’ve not appeared here, I love it all, and its all part of me and I believe it all helps to keep me sane I think." (Classic Rock magazine, 2001)

"This is the loneliest business of all: the writing and painting are extremely lonely occupations. I spent all those years at Art School and Junior Art, all kind of academic and I never thought I'd actually sell pictures but I can sell quite a few now. But at the same time, I do think one of the reasons why I left it alone for fifteen years was because I could meet people this way and I didn't have to stand in a fucking, you know, lonely room, raking my brains. And writing's the same, it's an incredibly lonely occupation. Nobody applauds at the end or says 'Well done', then you're full of doubt and you might be living with somebody, a woman, who's not necessarily interested in what you're doing or some guy. It's very likely you turn to drinking. I did certainly." (Interview with Pascal Regis, February 2004)

"It's all hard work. I don't believe in the romantic side of the Arts. It's 5% inspiration, 95% graft." (Mary Costello show, 1990)

"Writing is a kind of a test for me. I'm not a person who writes very rapidly – like writing songs, that I can do very quickly, within a matter of minutes sometimes I've got something finished, but writing is a slow and difficult process. Normally I start with a first line and go along – like these book 'The Party Dress' or Show Business', I really relied on spontaneity and improvisation. Almost never knew what I was going to finish up with when I started. I like to work like that. I'm not a great planner." (VPRO,1999)

['That Old Suburban Angst']: "I've always had a dread of living in a neat and tidy house with tasteful wallpaper and a shortage of books. Suburbia is the place to find this. It's all compromise behind closed doors." (Interview by Frank Bangay, 2004, published in Mental Health magazine, Feb 2005)

Helmi Coyne: "Kevin's latest book 'That Old Suburban Angst' has just been published and is available from www.kevincoynebooks.com. The book is a collection of short stories, glimpses of humanity and life's goings on. Kevin never saw the finished product but I know he would have been as pleased with it as I am." (Helmi's newsletter, January 2005)

Kevin Coyne: "I'm a little bit anti arty-art, art school art. I try not to be boring." (GLR Radio, 1995)

2^nd December 2004

"I'm not afraid to die. Actually, I'm quite looking forward to it"

(Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Kevin Coyne: "I haven't got the intention to call it quits. I am happy that I can still perform despite of my poor health. It is of course more difficult than before, but I will continue as long as I can. The biggest problem is oxygen. I continually have to have large oxygen bottles with me which is very inconvenient on tours. Journeys by plane are nearly impossible, as a lot of flight companies refuse to take the oxygen bottles on board. But my brave musicians help me as much as possible on tours, they have to act as nurses.

Oddly enough, this works very well. I recently performed in Belgium, England and East Germany. Tomorrow I will give a guest performance in Vienna. My voice sounds better than ever, maybe this is due to the artificial oxygen.

There is no choice but to accept my illness. Otherwise, you would be continually depressed or in a bad mood. I paint, write, sing as before and don't think much about the illness. I mainly regret that I cannot travel very much anymore, in particular to America. It is a novelty for me that I am continually dependant on the help of others, I don't really like that. But without my wife I would not be able to do anything. I am not a free person anymore." ('Am Ende ist der Mensch ganz allein', the last interview, Steffen Radlmaier, 1st December 2004)

"Those of you attending the shows will probably note my reliance on a small oxygen tank and plastic pipe throughout. Recent advice from my doctors has led to this. Bravely puffing and panting through songs without extra air is now forbidden. I must preserve my health. This rotten lung fibrosis of mine demands I do what they say." (Coyne newsletter, October 2004)

"My ailment is quite serious, but not deadly. I'm now taking cortisone regularly which turns me into a grumpy old misfit. Nothing changes really." (August 2003 email to Nigel Burch)

"It's funny. I feel better when I sing."(Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Clive Product: "[Clive Product's song 'Pass Into The Night'] is about the last time I visited Kevin Coyne in Nuremberg (in 2004). He wasn't able to walk great distances so I spent much time pushing him around in a wheelchair. Despite the obvious sadness – and the fact he needed to be connected to an oxygen cylinder for 16 hours a day – we found ourselves laughing and talking in silly voices. We walked by the river, stopping off to eat cake at a local cafe, before going into town to do some CD shopping. Later, back at his flat, we sat in his room and he played me some of his favourite tracks (King Oliver, The Ramones, Talk Talk, some old doo-wop stuff, etc). 'Pass Into The Night' is a personal tribute to an old hero who became a dear friend." (Clive's website)

NEW LUNGS

Get in touch with little Marie

Tell her uncle Kevin needs new lungs and she has to pray for him

"As big as shopping bags?" she asks when the request comes through, "Good and strong?"

and the birds flutter from trees as she closes her eyes

celebrating the spirit that lives

making themselves into a choir

to announce a miracle.

(2004 Kevin Coyne poem)

Is there anything in life you regret doing?

Oh, far too many to mention here. (Thinks). Upsetting people…

Can I ask, are you frightened of dying?

No, I'm not really. I rather look forward to it, to be honest. (Laughs). No, I do! Sometimes I really like the idea. l'm really looking forward to what's on the other side, most of the time. Sometimes I think there's nothing there.

Do you believe in reincarnation?

Well, I don't know, really. When you look around you it's hard not to. I really don't know. Strange, mystical, odd things happen in one's life, and they happen when you least expect them. But I think it's good to build up a good basis of spirituality and live life with strength. I don't think any other way works.

Finally, when you get to heaven, what will you talk with God about?

Oh, I talk with him anyway. Absolutely! I'm not talking to myself when I say a prayer. (Laughs). I have conversations with God often. And l'm sure he listens 'cause things happen. Things come right
(1997 interview, from 'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne')

Helmi Coyne: "He was standing in the room and he said, quite calmly:
'I think I am going to die now'. For a moment I thought it was one of his jokes. I put my arms around him.
He seemed to fall sleep again.
I was dozing. When I woke up he was smiling but his eyes were closed.
I didn't need to call a doctor. I knew."
(Interview by Robert Chalmers, 2004)

Jon Langford: "The phone rings in the mixing room at North branch Studio in Chicago and my wife breaks the news that Kevin died this morning. I talk to his wife Helmi in Nuremberg and she tells me he died at home in her arms. This, at least, is good news, as Kevin's been slogging around Europe with an oxygen tank and breathing tubes in tow for the last few months, playing blinding shows but living in constant terror of dropping dead in some hotel room, all alone. He was diagnosed with fibrosis soon after returning from the [2002] Chicago trip. It's a vicious disease that turns your lungs to concrete and places an unbearable strain on your heart. Kevin downplayed the seriousness of his condition and continued playing and recording, painting and writing 'til the end. He had a gig in Vienna the night he died and shows booked well into December." (Mojo, January 2005)

Gary Lucas: "Coming on the heels of his champion and friend John Peel (I first heard Kevin in the context of Siren, who recorded two amazing albums for Peel's label Dandelion) this is just unbelievable, a double tragedy for music. […] Kevin had been knocking on my brain." (2004)

Jeffrey Lewis: "Obviously Kevin's work is the sort of art that will continue to be passed from one person to the next, traveling true, without interference from the corporate side of the music industry." (2004)

Alec Bemis: "Maybe the only British musician who ever really had the blues." (The Chicago Reader, 1999)

"December 1st. It is the long trip to Vienna, and another gig tomorrow.
The usual anxieties prevail.
I do my best to ignore them, placing my faith in God and my outstanding band.
We are in a rich period of creativity. I mean to make the most of it.
The house is a morgue without Helmi.
She should be walking through the door any moment, lifting the spirit within me immediately with her captivating smile.
She is the love of my life."
(Last entry in Coyne's diary)

Bonus tracks

If you could play with any musician dead or alive, who would you choose?

I think it would have to be Charlie Parker, just to sing along with that remarkable saxophone playing, improvise as it were, or Thelonious Monk, I love Thelonious Monk too.

Is there a single incident in your career that you would tell your grandchildren about?

Maybe playing Paris Olympia or something, so big venue that I might have done in the past when they think all I do is play the Coach & Horses at somewhere or other, yes I would say playing Paris Olympia.

If you were castaway on a desert Island which five albums would leap into your hands?

Five albums, oh my goodness, very difficult, one would be Bill Black's Combo 'Don’t Be Cruel', a single by them, the other would be 'Parker’s Mood' by Charlie Parker which is one of the millions of tracks he did, and something by Captain Beefheart I think, 'Ode To Alex' off 'Bat Chain Puller'. There’s a thing about wind by the Fall, 'a lot or wind' or 'such a lot of wind', I can’t remember the title of it now, off the top of my head certainly something by the Fall anyway – and the fifth one, I think Foxy Brown actually, the Rap singer, anything by her, 'Hot Spot' I think is the one I like, I hope it doesn’t sound too pretentious to mention all this, I just like all types of stuff really.

The final question, what music would you have played at your funeral?

Probably ‘Lamp Trimmed And Burning’ by Fred McDowell, well its a sort of optimistic spiritual type of thing.

Extract from Classic Rock magazine, 2001

The Cast

Bangay, Frank: musician and poet. Did a couple of interview with Coyne. Also contributed to both Coyne Tribute CDs: 'The World is Full of Fools' (2005) and 'Whispers from the Offing' (2007).

'Beautiful Extremes, Conversations with Kevin Coyne', a book by Clive Product, 1999

Bennetts, Paul: Kevin Coyne scholar

Blüml, Andreas: guitarist with Coyne in 2003 and 2004. Appears on 'Donut City' and 'Underground'.

Brady, Ian and Hindley, Myra: The 'Moor Murderers', UK serial killers from the 60s. 'Babble' is loosely based on their lives.

Branson, Richard: founder of Virgin Records in the early 70s.

Breakwell, Ian: playwright, collaborated with Coyne on several projects.

Brown, Mick: Richard Branson' authorised biographer.

Bull, Steve: keyboard player with Coyne in the early 80s. Co-wrote half of the songs on 'Pøliticz'. Also appears on 'Pointing the Finger' and 'The Last Wall'.

Burch, Nigel: musician, friend of Kevin. Contributed to both Coyne Tribune CDs.

Chesnutt, Vic: American singer-songwriter. Mentionned "meeting Kevin Coyne" as one of the important moments in his life.

Chichester, John: first guitarist with Siren.

Clague, Dave: bass player and producer with Siren. Later put out four Siren outakes albums on his DJC label.

Cousins, Tony: bass player with Coyne in the early '70s. Played on 'Marjory Razorblade' and 'Blame it on the Night'.

Coyne, Arthur: Kevin's eldest brother; a jazz musician.

Coyne, Eugene: Eldest son of Kevin. Appears on 'Tough And Sweet' and 'Sugar Candy Taxi'. Wrote the liner notes for Kevin's reissue albums in 2009.

Coyne, Helmi: Kevin's second wife.

Coyne, Lesley: Kevin's first wife. Mother of Eugene and Robert.

Coyne, Nico: Kevin's third son.

Coyne, Robert: Kevin's second son. A musician, he played (guitar, bass, keyboards, drums) and co-wrote songs on 'Tough And Sweet', 'Sugar Candy Taxi', 'Room Full of Fools', 'Carnival', 'One Day In Chicago' and 'Donut City'.

Croker, Brendan: guitarist and singer, recorded 'Life is almost beautiful' with Coyne in 2002.

Cudworth, Nick: pianist and guitarist with Siren.

Donaghey, Tony: friend, fan and publisher of Coyne.

Draper, Simon: Virgin A&R who signed Kevin in 1973.

Ferguson, Robert: early friend.

Godding, Brian: ex Blossom Toes, guitarist with Coyne in the early 80s. Appears on 'Bursting Bubbles', 'Sanity Stomp' and 'Pointing the Finger'. His full of memories website can be found at www.lotsawatts.co.uk

Goettert, Achim: Jazz musician who staged two different live projects with Kevin in the '90s: 'Mansion of Dreams' (1993) and 'Opera for Syd' (1999), both live recordings issued on CD on his own label: www.act-art.de/coynegoettert

Griffiths, Trevor: playwright; collaborated with Coyne in 1979 on a BBC TV drama called 'Don't Make Waves' (unreleased on disc).

'Herz aus Feuer': a 1979 documentary film about Coyne by Claudia Strauven and Wolfgang Kraesze.

Hirschmann Harry: bass player on 'Donut City' and 'Underground'.

Holzman Jac: President of Elektra Records; signed Siren for the U.S..

James, Alex: bass player with Blur. And a fan…

Kershaw, Andy: BBC DJ and long-time Coyne supporter.

Kirtley, Peter: guitarist with Coyne in the '80s. Appears on 'Politicz', 'The Last Wall' and 'Rough' .

Krause, Dagmar: singer with Henry Cow, Art Bears, Slapp Happy. Sang the female role in Coyne's 'Babble'.

Kusz, Fitzgerald: a German writer.

Lamb, Steve: played his fretless bass on 'Pointing The Finger', 'Songs From the Archives', 'The Last Wall', 'Rough' and 'Legless In Manilla'.

Langford, Jon: musician with The Mekons; recorded the album 'One Day In Chicago' in 2002 with Coyne.

Legget, Archie: bassist on on 'Matching Head And Feet'.

Lewis, Jeffrey: American singer-songwriter. Double billed with Coyne in Paris on Kevin's last France show in February 2004.

Lipton, Michael: guitarist on 'Carnival', 'Donut City' and 'Underground'.

Lloyd, Robert: singer with the mighty Nightingales. And a fan.

'Loladamusica': A documentary film about Coyne, from VPRO (Dutch T.V.), directed by Walter Stokman (2001)

Lucas, Gary: Guitarist. Played on Coyne's 'Knocking on your Brain'.

Lydon, John a.k.a. Johnny Rotten: singer with The Sex Pistols and PIL. Often named as being Coyne influenced because he once picked up a Coyne song in a radio show.

Meager, Tat: drummer with Siren.

Money, Zoot: legendary pianist who began his carrer in the '60s (Eric Burdon's Animals among others). Played with Coyne for most of the 70s. Appears on 'Heartburn', 'On Air', 'In Living Black And White', 'Dynamite Daze' and 'Babble'. Also on the famous 'Rockpalast' 1979 bootleg.

Martin Normington: sax player on 'Songs From the Archives'.

Oldfield, Mike: signed to Virgin at the same time as Coyne. The label considered the idea of Coyne writing lyrics for his 'Tubular Bells'.

Oldham, Will: American singer-songwriter. A self-confessed fan of 'Babble', he performed the whole album live late 2010 with his Kevin Coyne Tribute Band, "The Babblers".

Paterson, Neale: an erudite fan.

Peel, John: BBC DJ; signed Siren on his Dandelion Records label; remained a Coyne fan and supporter to the end.

Penn, Tim: Pianist with Coyne in the early 70s. Appears on 'Matching Head And Feet'.

Phelan, Jim: Art Director with Cherry Red Records.

Pohrer, Friedl: played bass in Coyne's 'German' bands and guitar for the acoustic shows for most of the '90s; co-wrote with Coyne the songs for 'The Adventures of Crazy Frank'. Also played on 'Romance-Romance' and 'Wild Tiger Love'

Product, Clive: musician; author of 'Beautiful Extremes, conversations with Kevin Coyne' (1999), from which his interviews come.

Pukke, Hans: guitarist with Coyne in the early 'German' years. Played and co-wrote many songs on 'Stumbling Onto Paradise', 'Everybody's Naked', 'Romance-Romance', 'Wild Tiger Love', 'Burning Head' and 'Tough And Sweet'.

Ruf, Thomas: President of Ruf Records, signed Coyne in the 90s.

Selwood, Clive: Director of Elektra UK, creator with John Peel of Dandelion label and, later, Strange Fruit Records. Coyne’s manager in the 70s.

Sheen, Dave: drummer with Coyne in the '80s. Appears on 'Pointing The Finger', ' Songs From the Archives', 'Rough' and 'Legless In Manilla'.

Smith, Gordon: guitarist with Coyne in the early Virgin years. Plays on 'Marjory Razorblade', 'Blame It On The Night' and 'Matching Head And Feet".

Spandler, Horst: Nuremberg musician who, along with his band Van Bluus, played for a short time with Coyne when he arrived in Germany.

Steinhart, Robert: bass player with Coyne in his early German years. Played on 'Stumbling Onto Paradise' and 'Everybody's Naked',

Steinhauser, Werner: drummer with Coyne from the early '90s to the end – actually the longest standing Coyne musician. Also co-producer of the last albums. Appears on 'The Adventures Of Crazy Frank', 'Room Full Of Fools', 'Carnival', 'Donut City' and 'Underground'.

Sting: singer and bass player with The Police.

Summers, Andy: guitarist with Kevin Coyne in the 70s; later joined The Police. Appears on 'Matching Head and Feet', 'Heartburn', 'On Air' and 'In Living Black and White'.

'The Unknown Famous': a 1997 documentary film about by Coyne by Diethard Küster.

Thomas, David: singer with Pere Ubu. Toured as a double bill with Coyne in 1999. Recorded with Pere Ubu in 2007 an amazing tribute version of Coyne's 'Turpentine' (see Pere Ubu's website).

Unterberger, Richie: Author of 'Unknown legends of rock'n'roll', 1988 feat. Coyne as one of the legends.

Vicious, Sid: bass player with the Sex Pistols and a victim of show business.

Ward, Bob: Coyne's manager, guitarist and producer during most of the 80s. Appears on 'Dynamite Daze', 'Millionaires and Teddy Bears', 'Babble', 'Bursting Bubbles', 'Sanity Stomp'.

Wickens, Paul: played keyboards with Coyne in the late 70s. Since then a Paul McCartney musician. Appears on 'Dynamite Daze', 'Millionaires and Teddy Bears' and 'Babble'.

Wilson, Dave: drummer on 'The Last Wall'.

Wilson, Snoo: playwright, collaborated with Coyne on the 'Don’t Make Waves' and 'England England' plays (both unreleased on disc).

Wyatt, Robert: musician; played drums on Coyne's 'Sanity Stomp' in 1980. The two musicians also appear on Michael Mantler's 'Silence' (1977).

Wood, Graham: agent for Siren.

Discography

Siren (1969)

Siren: Strange Locomotion (1971)

Siren: Rabbits (1970)

Siren: Let's Do It (1970)

Siren: The Club Rondo (1970)

Siren: Ruffstuff (1969)

The Dandelion Years 1969-1972 (3CD box)

Case History (1972)

Marjory Razorblade (1973)

Blame It On The Night (1974)

Matching Head And Feet (1975)

On Air (live-1975)

Heartburn (1976)

Let's Have A Party (compilation-1973/1976)

In Living Black And White (live-1976)

Beautiful Extremes 1974-1977 (compilation-1974/1977)

Beautiful Extremes Etcetera (compilation-1974/1978)

Dynamite Daze (1978)

Millionaires And Teddy Bears (1978)

Babble (w. Dagmar Krause) (1979)

Bursting Bubbles (1980)

Sanity Stomp (1980)

Pointing The Finger (1981)

Pøliticz (1982)

At The Last Wall (live DVD-1982)

Rough Kevin Coyne Live (live-1983)

Live Rough And More (live-1983)

Legless In Manilla (1984)

Stumbling Onto Paradise (1987)

Everybody's Naked (1988)

Romance-Romance (1990)

Peel Sessions (compilation-1973/1990)

Wild Tiger Love (1991)

Burning Head (limited edition,1992)

Tough And Sweet (1993)

Mansion of Dreams (live, w. The Achim Goettert Group, 1993)

Elvira-From The Archives (1979/1983)

Sign Of The Times (compilation-1973-1980)

The Adventures Of Crazy Frank (1995)

Knocking On Your Brain (1996)

Sugar Candy Taxi (1999)

Bittersweet Love Songs (compilation-1984/95)

Opera for Syd (live, w. The Achim Goettert Group feat. David Moss, 1999)

Room Full Of Fools (2000)

Life Is Almost Wonderful (w. Brendan Croker) (2002)

Carnival (2002)

One Day In Chicago (w. Jon Langford & The Pine Valley Cosmonauts) (2002)

Donut City (2004)

Underground (2004)

I want my Crown, The Anthology 1973-1980 (2010)

In 2010, 'Marjory Razorblade' was reissued with an extra cd full of bonus tracks.
Also reissued in 2010 as download only: 'Blame it on the Night', 'Matching Head and Feet', 'In Living Black & White', 'Dynamite Days'.

Tribute CDs: 'The World is Full of Fools' (2005, featuring fans tribute songs, free download) and 'Whispers from the Offing' (2007, charity album).

Internet Links

For more info on Kevin Coyne, check Pascal's Kevin Coyne Page http://kevincoynepage.tk including a full official AND non-official * discography but also films, books, lyrics, photos, press, guitar tabs and what-not.

*Seeing all this bootlegs recordings, Kevin once said: 'I feel like Bob Dylan!'

The official websites www.kevincoyne.de http://www.kevincoyne.co.uk/

The Kevin Coyne Discussion Group www.kevincoyne.tk

Kevin Coyne books website www.kevincoynebooks.com

Two My Space pages: www.myspace.com/kevncoyne www.myspace.com/kevincoynebookscom

A blog with rare download: http://kevincoyne.blogspot.com

"I had a nightmare boogie one last night, I dreamed l was trapped in a hall full of golden discs

Somebody said to me, 'Which one is yours?' And I had to confess I hadn't got one, hadn't got a single, Hadn't got a single one at all Not one at all But I don’t care!" ('Having a Party', 1978)