
Five Things I Saw & Heard This Week
Transcripts from the everyday world of music by Martin Colyer
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Currently, of course, everyone is home, but here’s the story of Charlie and Peter, in Peter’s words:
“I met Charlie out at the Vapors Club, in Memphis, back in 1970. He was fairly obscure. So I go out there and I met Charlie and his wife, Margaret Ann, and I just never met anybody who I liked more on first acquaintance. I just loved them both — one of those things where you feel like you’ve really connected. Between sets, Charlie would tell me about growing up outside of Forrest City and growing up in the church; the guilt he felt and the depression he suffered, his drinking. Charlie was not an “up” person. He once said, “I don’t know what it is, I just don’t dig happy songs.” And Margaret Ann, during the sets, would tell me the same stories but in a more rounded, expressive way. She was a brilliant woman as well.
Then I wrote it up for “Feel Like Going Home,” and nobody had done any interviews with Charlie at that point. And as I wrote it, I had the terrible feeling that these two people who I’d really liked so much, that I was never going to see them again. The chapter seems mild by today’s standards, but I had to tell the truth, and it was terrible. Shortly after it was published, the secretary of the publisher called me up and said Charlie Rich just called and ordered 35 copies, one for everyone in his family. Not long after, Charlie told me, “The thing about it was, it was the truth. It hurt, it really hurt, but it was the truth.”
A couple of years later he invited me to New York. I hadn’t seen him in a while and he was playing at Max’s Kansas City. “Behind Closed Doors” had just come out and he was on a publicity tour. And he says, “I got a surprise for you, man.” And I said, “Great, I love surprises.” Which is not at all the case, but what are you gonna say? And so he played the song “Feel Like Going Home” for the first time. And he told me, “I wrote this out of the feeling I got from reading the book.”
And a few years later, he sent me a 7-inch reel-to-reel of the piano demo. And as far as I know, that’s the only copy. Roland Janes later told me, “That’s such a great song, Peter, is the book anywhere near as good?” And I said, “Nope.” It’s no big deal, really, but I mean can you imagine a greater thrill?”
Thanks for the shout out Martin – which reminds me I must post #3 in the series. Was similarly nonplussed by Homegrown. Not sure I am brave enough to watch Sir Cliff, but will ask my mum to and report back.
Ever one to accept a challenge, I did watch Cliff’s video all the way to the end. It doesn’t change much, all taking place in the Corridor of Wardrobes. At one point he teases us that he’s actually going to disappear into the wardrobe, but then he emerges again with a cheeky smile. I am naturally envious of so much wardrobe real estate, though I’m not sure why the perforated doors—you’d think it would be an open invitation to moths. And he does seem to be singing it live rather than miming, so hat’s off to him for the state of his pipes at going on 80. A tribute to clean living.
Maybe you could recreate it, Simon, although it isn’t quite American Gothic, more Marbella Mid-Century, and there’s no role for Ali…
Two tales of endurance or lack thereof:
I made it to the end of Cliff’s video, jaw to the floor, and I claim my gold medal. Blimey. To be honest, I was mostly interested to see if the poor old sod would stay upright, as he looked a bit unsteady on his pins. If you baled out before 2’30” you missed the bit of business he does with one of his closet doors that goes wrong. (insert Cliff/closet gag here)
We’ve given up on Mrs America. Wanted to like it; expected to like it, in fact – it’s got Cate Blanchett, after all. But it’s just so boring and I don’t care about any of the characters. The soundtrack is good but it isn’t reason enough to persevere with it. Next!
Interesting that you felt the same way. It just didn’t catch fire (Mrs America, not Cliff’s wardrobes)…