Shock horror in that the “missing years” contain some gold in them thar hills!

Release Date: 24th May 2024

Label: Lemon (Cherry Red)

Format: CD boxset

Come the late ’70’s, Lindisfarne were considered somewhat of a spent force, the original band having splintered after the rightly celebrated first trio of records. Spent, that is, unless it were New Year’s Eve in Newcastle, when they, in whatever incarnation, could still be guaranteed to raise the roof at City Hall. Which was the key to this renaissance, this second wind, something the two sides of the embittered factions could never quite have believed possible. Suffice to say, such was the ill will between the Hull/Jackson pairing, still playing as Lindisfarne, and Messrs Clements, Cowe and Laidlaw, trading as Jack the Lad, that the odds against were stacked high. Luckily, the paypacket offered was higher still, with the five band members surprised to see how simple it was to pick right up where they had last left off.

The plan had been originally to just have a better night out recorded to disc, than the last time such had been attempted, most agreeing that Charisma’s Lindisfarne Live, from 1973, had not shown them at their best. Hence the first disc, a live performance that gave rather more flavour of their bucolic best. But, buoyed by that, and its reception, the option of a further record was dangled, and then a third. This is the story of those fateful couple of years. In fairness, like many at the time, I had sort of lost interest. Punk and new wave had stolen the thunder of their amiable folk-rock. Plus, I had never quite got over the schism post Dingley Dell, and had tied my loyalties more to the Jack The Lad camp, not even realising that, by the time of these releases, the breach had been band-aided together. Even the hit single, and we’ll get to that, failed to impress against my partisan antipathy, in part as I assumed this was still an ersatz part version.

Magic In The Air, Disc 1:

Let’s start with the bonus ball giveaway, the live album, recorded at Newcastle City Hall, NYE 1977. Hard to believe this a quintet who couldn’t seemingly stand being in the same room as each other, and largely hadn’t, this is a predominantly stonking set, covering all the expected and more. (Indeed, the current iteration of the band, which includes only Rod Clements, last man standing, performs much the same set today.) It kicks off with Lady Eleanor, in a slightly faster and brittler version than the studio iteration. It works well, spikier and sparklier, the band sounding more electric, electrified even. The vocals, Alan Hull’s lead and the ragged barbershop choir behind him, are delightfully all over the shop, as they should be. Road To Kingdom Come reminds quite how integral and important Ray Jackson was to the band, his vocals and harmonica both strong and confident. Older readers will remember it is with these two songs that Nicely Out Of Tune, their debut album, had begun.

From the same album, Rab Noakes’ Turn A Deaf Ear follows, as much to give all a go at the mike, before January Song threatens to dial up the goosebumps.Still a highpoint now, as Hull’s nephew Dave Hull-Denholm packs a pitch perfect facsimile of his uncle, here the own goal is missed, it becoming a lazy audience clapalong. Caught In The Act gets an odd blues’n’boogie remix, needing No Time To Lose to remind of the full jugband juggernaut experience they could provide, an upbeat maelstrom of mandolins and harmonica, leaking feelgood through every pore. Not for the first time the prominence and importance of Rod Clement’s bass is noted. Lifted by the audience response, Hull now pulls off a blinder of his own Winter Song, drawing on all the pathos therein. (Play this version alongside the live versions by Elvis Costello and Sam Fender to get the full picture.)

I remember always thinking Uncle Sam a bit lightweight on it’s parent album; here they pull off the trick of giving it a whole lot of extra and earlier unappreciated charm, perhaps as they had been beefing up their blues chops between Fog On The Tyne and Dingley Dell. Wake Up Little Sister gets a poppier sheen than originally, with another Dell favourite, All Fall Down being reproduced splendidly, even, somehow, down to what sounds like horns, even if none credited. And a great lead up to Meet Me On The Corner, which is nothing short of incandescent. Anyone able to recall the pitiful effort the band had to give for Top Of The Pops can relax, as it was certainly within their grasp to perform as expectation would demand.

Uncertain why, but Bye Bye Birdie, a nominally traditional tune, gets a fairly generically bland blues arrangement, apart fom Jackson’s blistering harp, that, thus, I guess, explaining the inclusion. Sticking with the theme for Blues in G Major, Hull’s Scarecrow Song is a lift back in the right direction, raggedy andy harmonies a frayed perfection. Dingley Dell’s title track is, frankly, a mess, maybe there to give restroom relief to all those thirsty Geordies. (And I quite like the original!) Scotch Mist sees Clements whip out his fiddle for a rousing trad based instrumental, full of tinkling mandolin and really quite a tidy guitar solo from Simon Cowe. We Can Swing Together is really more for the audience than the at home listener, and suggests a good time was had, with all singing along, not least during the prolonged harp extemporisation that holds it all together. And curtains.

Which promptly open again for, of course, Fog On The Tyne, again largely audience sung, but a song so damned endearing as to allow almost any rendition, as long as Paul Gascoigne is nowhere in the vicinity, a horror to come, 13 years ahead. A Clear White Light bookends this worthwhile memento of what the original band were, on a good night, capable of.

Back And Fourth, Disc 2:

As the liner notes suggest, the success of the live album was sufficient impetus to get the band in the studio for some new. These notes comprise snippets of conversation and memories from those members still alive at the time of compiling this boxset, namely Clements, Jackson and Laidlaw. (Alan Hull died in 1995, Simon Cowe twenty years later.) Conveniently disregarding Roll On Ruby and Happy Daze, the two albums without Clements, Cowe and Laidlaw, Back And Fourth aimed to continue where Dingley Dell left off. Material willing…….

For the reasons outlined above, largely my prejudice, I had never heard this or the album that followed it. Thus I have no faded rose-tinted memory to bolster my opinions. But it opens well, with Juke Box Gypsy, a catchy harmonica driven number, with handclap percussion and a lead vocal from Jackson that augurs well. Warm Feeling is a bit meh, though, a mid tempo MOR country song that fails to much ignite. One of two songs written by Jackson and Charlie Harcourt, all the others are by Hull. Which surprises, given the anodyne soft rock pap of Woman, a song so insipid it would fail the harbourmaster’s rules for yacht rock. It also offers the first sound of the strings that add nothing but pap to the arrangement, mirroring Dr Hook at their worst. Only Alone tries to lift the sinking mood, but doesn’t. Now it may be that a decent song is lurking within this one, but Gus Dudgeon’s production takes every cliche ridden prisoner in the book, leaving only a default option.

So to the big single; how has it fared over the years? Let me add that, when the current band played this, at Wickham Festival, 2022, it had me in tears. Of joy. Here I found myself weeping with the same tears as did the younger me, all those years earlier. I now know it a good song, but it remains ruined by the arrangement. Kings Cross is the second Jackson/Harcourt and is a reasonable slab of country rock, with mandolin and what sounds like banjo high in the mix, along with some freight train harmonica. Get Wise suggests a listen to the Doobie’s has taken place at some stage, which is a good thing, with, again, sadly, the production dating it damnably.

You And Me avoids this, by being a prime slice of banjo led old time timelessness, and it hits me what the issue is, it being that Dudgeon has tidied so much the vocals as to fit a smoother sensibility; given the joy of the ‘farne was always the tattered harmonies, it just doesn’t work with this “improvement”. Luckily, as this thought hits, the next song, Marshall Riley’s Army is a flashback to glorier days, Hull ranting at his political best, fiddle sawing a pleasing din and the raggediest vocals this side of Dingley Dell, and a real singalong chorus to lift any a flagging heart. To close comes Angels At Eleven, a piano ballad, followed by another, Make Me Want To Stay, each Hull still remembering to sing in his own voice The first is sufficient to forgive the slight schmaltz of the strings, piano probably enough to carry the melody and message, the second isn’t with a cheesy sax solo adding insult to injury. Both would be better placed on Hull solo albums, unembellished.

It being Cherry Red behind this, we get a further nine tracks. Some are shorter versions and/or different edits of the singles, Run For Home and Juke Box Gypsy. Of the others, the unexpectedness of a reggae song works against more odds than most. Had Stick Together appeared on the album, as many would be delighted as appalled; it is the former for me. It is also the first sighting of a Simon Cowe song, a co-write with David Edgar. When It Gets The Hardest is OK too, a sort of Geordie Chas and Dave, but Brand New Day isn’t, a rather self-consciously Beach Boy-esque pastiche. A couple of demos round it out, and, much as it galls me to say, I can see why they got no further than that, blessed only by the lack of a Dudgeon smoothing iron. Overall it is also only too clear why the album was not successful.

The News, Disc 3:

First the good news, Dudgeon didn’t produce this on, the desk now at the hands of Hugh Murphy. The band were only too aware of the feedback from Back And Fourth and the “ironed on harmonies”, their reputation surviving more on their still existing live momentum. So, as the album opens with the acapella intro to Call Of The Wild, all seems well, it being an likeable piano and fiddle song, Clements adding his increasingly lead instrument of slide guitar. Sleazy organ, harmonica, banjo and twang guitar adds to a kitchen sink of desire, with Hull sounding strong at the fore. A cracking start! People Say, a Clements song, maintains momentum, forgiving the handclap drum pattern that recurs just a little too much. 1983, if actually still four years away, possibly reflects the punk and new wave music lapping around them at this time, and is a frantic blues-rocker, like a speeded up Don’t Ask Me (from Dingley Dell), remaining no bad thing.

Log On Your Fire confirms the return of a passion to the team, an angry Hull proclaiming over mandolin and harmonica, the rhythm section a sturdy basement presence. I’m enjoying this disc. Evening has some soulful electric piano, a slow southern burn, Hull’s voice still a fiery beacon at the front. Easy And Free, purportedly written, by Hull, as a to demand hit single, betrays an attempt to re-write Run For Home. It wasn’t a hit, as it happens, the bolted on additional arrangements, if less sickly, are still a tad intrusive. Miracles is another stab at reggae, coming over as cod-Men At Work (cod cod-reggae, then), a somewhat ersatz horn section dumping kitsch excesses that don’t do any favours.

When Friday Comes Along is a mando driven country-ish song, the second Clements song. (Clements is a little deprecatory about his two songs, in the notes; I beg to differ, even if the record company though little of them.) Dedicated Hound, a great title , one has to say, is a second song from Simon Cowe, this time without assistance. A swampy blues of no great originality, originality is the last thing this sort of song needs, and it boogies along with clavinet and Hammond. A belter, live, I’d wager.

The Jackson/Harcourt partnership then gets its first song on this album. For those unaware, Harcourt, a longtime associate of Jackson, had been in the ill-fated interim Lindisfarne, 1973-5, becoming again a member, much later, in 2013. Indeed, were it not for his health, he might still be on board, but, having left on health grounds in 2017, he died three years later. The song, This Has To End is good, with a memorable and rousing chorus, certainly better than their songs last album around. Hull closes with Good To Be Here, a string drenched ballad, which, not for the first time, would be better in a more naked setting. It’s a grower, mind, with echoes of Procol Harum’s A Salty Dog, mainly in the arrangement, and lyrical thrust. Possibly too much. But, all in all, the feel is that, with this record, the band have gelled and rediscovered their mojo, more than making up for the somewhat haphazard cut and paste of the one preceding it.

Here the extras are a the single version of Easy And Free, followed by a live set from, inevitably, Newcastle City Hall, sometime in 1979. Opening with a flourish on the same City Hall organ as Keith Emerson played to introduce E.L.P.’s Pictures At An Exhibition, that point being made merely to make it, before a stomp fuelled Stick Together, with most of the reggae lilt lost in translation, but messy is the strength of a live Lindisfarne. Juke Box Gypsy scorches off from the start, followed by People Say, each belying the fact they know these songs well enough to give the brand the flavours expected of them. Much as it seems odd, all these years later, to hear Lindisfarne playing some new, rather than the classics, and it would be no bad thing if Clements and co. could slip one or two these songs in the current list.

Major Riley’s Army, as predicted, goes down a storm, followed, on a roll, with Call Of The Wild and Evening. Warm Feeling, with its overly mannered studio harmonies duly and effectively crumpled, easily loses the mehness reported earlier. And, relief of relief, Run For Home, minus the spurious orchestration, is the monster that was always a’lurking, as appreciated so recently. The encore, somewhat astonishingly, although it may be this selection edits out older material, is a delicious romp through Dedicated Hound. Hallelujah!

There may have been moments where this writer was raising question around the wisdom of resurrecting this trio of albums, but, Cherry Red deserve kudos for so doing. Yes, it may present one of the three albums as being generally disposable dreck of the first order, the wisdom, to then add some live versions, shows the understanding that the songs were still decent, if in a saccharine disguise that didn’t suit either the songs or the band. The all live album had been going to be my pick of the crop, but, you know, in hindsight, it is actually The News, with the attendant additional tracks, that emerges the winner. Well played!

Here’s Log On Your Fire from The News:

Lindisfarne online: Website / Facebook / X (formerly known as Twitter) / Instagram

(The above relate to the current active version of Lindisfarne; here for a more heritage and legacy site.)

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