Cal Egan

Tag: counterculture

  • Eric Wheelbarrow III – The Suns of Albert

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third is the absurd tale of an entitled young man who sees the truth of things after imbibing magic mushrooms during a game of golf.

    As far as I can remember (with a memory like a polka dot shirt), the idea was to do a toytown-esque E.P, which became the extraordinary release “Gypsy Brae” (one person even commented on it). For non-Burgers, Gypsy Brae is a grassy hill, along the promenade from Silverknowes to Granton, where there was a well kent fare in north Embra every year. To go to it, felt a lot like being at the fare that Ringo works at in the Michael Apted film – Stardust. I’m not sure if Gypsy Brae fare still happens.

    My songwriting contribution to Gypsy Brae – Eric Wheelbarrow III, is a dive into 60s-inspired pop-art. It’s recorded in mono, uses treble heavy guitars, old Italian organs, free-bass, seagulls, close harmonies, and even a baroque psychedelic motif!

    The lyrics are insightful, a tad bolshie, but poetically playful too. Much of the song was written on the loo – bright acoustics, comfy seat, liberating. It came together very quickly, ah hem, apart from the introduction and instrumental. In those bits, I’m trying to de-construct and rebuild the A chord on the guitar, to loosen it up, to get free. I do this on Rays In The Garden as well, going up the fretboard in an open E and down in an expansive elementary A. There’s something magical about working out melodic patterns like this. Once you’ve unlocked the path, you’re bending and suspending time, your fingers bubbling away with their own unique energy. It’s aural voodoo. Boogie is like that – John Lee Hooker, a master. This song isn’t boogie though, it’s Kinksy, PsyPop Kink.

    A little more background.

    Ronnie, an old friend now passed, bless him, whilst merrily pissed outside The Guildford Arms, grunted,

    “Aye, Eric Wheelbarrow the Third!”.

    I can’t remember what we were talking about. I’m sure someone said Eric Wheelbarrow the Third is a character from an Irn Bru advert of yore. It’s beyond my ken, but the name stuck.

    The internet/AI/mess knows owt about it, other than spewing out idiotic machine-code answers.

    That makes it a hidden gem, pregnant with possibility.

    Ultimately, The Suns of Albert are earthy, electric folksters, out there on the cusp.

    Over to Picasso – Computers are useless, they only give you answers.

    The Old Guitarist - Pablo Picasso
    The Old Guitarist – Pablo Picasso (late 1903–early 1904)

    Fore!

    Chords: A, G, D, G, A, F, C, D, G, A, F, C, E, Esus

    Lyrics

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Emotionally green
    Socks and sweater lemon curd

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Son of the nouveau riche
    A microfiche absurd

    Daddy’s a merchant
    His seed good stock
    Down the club
    He shows off everything he’s got
    Must be professional
    A handshake firm, but
    Best be careful what you yearn – for(e)

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Mind of a schoolboy
    Pornographic connoisseur
    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Hoists the legion’s eagle
    Loves the regal Old Bird

    At the 19th
    He braves the dare
    Swallows Mother Nature’s
    Mirrored silverware
    Deep in his bunker
    A holy One
    Score infinite
    As he drives – into the sun

    Instrumental

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Soaring like an albatross
    On Calvados – my word

    Eric Wheelbarrow the Third
    Happy in the out-of-bounds
    Now found beyond the herd.

    Song dedicated to Ronald Andrew Macfarlane (RIP).

    Liquid Loops by The Joshua Light Show:
    The Joshua Light Show – Liquid Loops (1969)

    Supporting music is life support:

    Buy 24-bit/44.1kHz .WAV of Eric Wheelbarrow III for £2 on Bandcamp

    Written, produced and recorded by The Suns Of Albert in a Seafield flat on a Mac Book Pro (2012), an Mbox 2 Pro A/D, and Adobe Audition CS6.

  • Talkin’ Woody Guthrie Blues – The Suns of Albert

    I’d been listening to Woody Guthrie on a loop, beguiled by his troubadour cowboy lifestyle, popular songs with socialist themes, and conspicuous anti-fascist stance. Who would have thought he’d be so relevant again.

    Woody Guthrie by Lester Balog (1941)

    Talkin’ Woody Guthrie Blues is my attempt at emulating Woody’s guitar technique.

    The lyrics are vignettes, glimpses of sensitivities, situations, retrospections from early teenage wilderness and awakening, through family dysfunction, travelling revelations and tragedies to acceptance and awareness of things as they are.

    The recording was made, perhaps 12 or 13 years after writing it. I was adamant that it should be recorded live, to have an authentic folky mood about it. So, apart from the sparse backing vocals it’s just me with my old beat-up, cheap Westfield acoustic, singing and playing the song through SM58s at mouth and soundhole. It probably took four or five goes before getting adequate levels. To make the guitar sound brighter I used a plectrum, but usually finger pick it. I could play it better but that’s not really the point.

    The chords and finger-picking are C, F, C, G, C.

    Lyrics

    We jumped into the river
    Beyond the secret pool
    The crumbling bridge above us
    And the waters sparkling jewels
    I was drowning
    Whilst screaming like a mute
    But when I came up for air
    You were gone
    I can’t dispute

    I’m lying on my bed
    In the depth of Wintertime
    And all that once was shining
    Is coated in grime
    Oh lies and death
    True as the burning sun
    Less easy to forget
    When all’s been said and all is done

    An old man reads my palm
    In a shack up in the mountain
    My head’s in a rain-soaked cloud
    His wisdom like the fountain
    I don’t know who I am
    I can’t see the way I’m going
    But just now I’m sitting here
    For tomorrow, there’s no knowing

    Jimmy’s leaning out the window
    Now he’s lying on the rails
    His life will never be the same
    And mine will seem so frail
    But the little man
    Whose smile engulfs the world
    Kept my head above the water
    And in a shell, put a pearl

    There is no meaning to this song
    The journey’s what it is
    I want to get back home again
    There’s the bus I’m going to miss
    Oh beautiful eyes
    And hands to heal the pain
    Walk me through the long valley
    Show me love that never wains

    Supporting music is life support:

    Buy 24-bit/44.1kHz .WAV of Talkin’ Woody Guthrie Blues for £2 on Bandcamp

    Graphic by Colm Mac Aodhagáin.

    Written, produced and recorded by The Suns Of Albert in a Seafield flat on a Mac Book Pro (2012), an Mbox 2 Pro A/D, and Adobe Audition CS6.