I find it hard to believe I have been bashing out my musical memories in this blog for nearly three years now, yet haven’t really included much at all by Mr, or Sir as he is now, Rod Stewart. Today sees the release of his 30th studio album called “Blood Red Roses”, so inevitably he was on the radio this morning performing songs from it. Fair play to him, he still has the voice, and has really enjoyed his song-writing of late, delving deep into his past coming up with autobiographical tales about the people and places encountered on the way. Always a bit of a dandy, he still seems to be in great shape and still always looks dapper, with the trademark spiky “Rod the Mod” hairstyle laboriously coiffed into shape.
Rod Stewart is another of these artists who has had such longevity that I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t around. He was born towards the tail end of the war, in Highgate, North London, the last son to a Scottish father and English mother. The baby of the family by eight years, he admits to having been thoroughly spoiled and had a wonderful childhood. Not being particularly academic, he left school aged 15 planning to pursue one of his two great loves, football or music. Despite trials with a few clubs the football didn’t work out, so thankfully for us, the world of music beckoned.
I remember trying to find out a bit more about early Rod Stewart a few years ago, ahead of going to see him perform at our local stadium, and found he’d first joined a band in 1959. This makes him one of the few artists still performing today, to have had a career that at a push, spans seven decades. I can’t seem to find where I got that info now but whatever, he certainly has had a long and colourful career. A few changes in direction along the way means he probably lost a few original fans, but then gained a whole set of new fans. I think it would be churlish for any of us now however, to look back at his career with anything other than awe. In his back catalogue, there is most definitely something for everyone.
I’m going to keep this post relatively short as it’s going to be the first in a Rod Stewart series covering each decade of his recording career. The 1960s saw Rod masquerading first as a Beatnik, then a Mod, singing with bands such as Long John Baldry’s Hoochie Coochie Men, and then Steampacket. Towards the end of the decade he had joined the Jeff Beck Group which was when he first played with long-term friend Ronnie Wood. At the same time however he was pursuing a solo career, and in 1969 released his first album, “An Old Raincoat Won’t Ever Let You Down”. I’m afraid I don’t remember Rod from this era at all, as he just didn’t fall into the category of artist a pre-teen would have been aware of (basically he wasn’t an Osmond or a Jackson), but in later years the song Handbags and Gladrags, written by Mike D’Abo of Manfred Mann, has become one of my favourites. This song was covered by Rod on his debut album and it still sends shivers down my spine when I hear it.
Handbags and Gladrags (Live version) by Rod Stewart:
The song was apparently about the futility of fashion and the irrelevance of outward appearances, which is a bit ironic considering how much of a dandy Rod has been over the years. For me though, it still kind of smarts when I listen to it, as the memories come back of the times I was probably less than grateful as a youngster. My granny was a fantastically talented knitter, and loved making me jumpers and “tank tops” (remember them?). Sadly, these home-knitted affairs were just not appreciated, and never worn, as by the time you reach your teenage years the only “duds” you want to wear are those identical to your peers. Acrylic V-necks from Chelsea Girl I seem to remember, rather than those lovingly crafted Aran sweaters. Likewise, the annual trek to buy new school shoes and winter boots usually ended in tears. Who wanted fur-lined leather boots from Clarks, when True Form and Dolcis had all those lovely synthetic boots with platform soles? A familiar tale back then, and probably now, but this song always reminds me of those battles. All these years later and I still feel bad about those gorgeous Aran sweaters that mouldered at the back of the wardrobe.
So, my first Rod Stewart post is at an end, but I already have a good idea of which songs I’m going to cover in this series. It was lovely hearing him chat and sing on the radio this morning. Long may he continue.
Until next time….
Handbags and Gladrags Lyrics
(Song by Mike D’Abo)
Ever seen a blind man cross the road
Trying to make the other side?
Ever seen a young girl growing old
Trying to make herself a bride?
So what becomes of you my love
When they have finally stripped you of
The handbags and the gladrags
That your poor old Grandad had to sweat to buy you
Once I was a young man
And all I thought I had to do was smile
Well you are still a young girl
And you’ve bought everything in style
So once you think you’re in you’re out
‘Cause you don’t mean a single thing without
The handbags and the gladrags
That your poor old Grandad had to sweat to buy you
Sing a song of six-pence for your sake
And drink a bottle full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds in a cake
And bake ’em all in a pie
They told me you missed school today
So what I suggest you just throw them all away
The handbags and the gladrags
That your poor old Grandad had to sweat to buy
They told me you missed school today
So what I suggest you just throw them all away
The handbags and the gladrags
That your poor old Grandad had to sweat to buy you
For the Native Americans, this was the month when corn was supposed to be harvested. Also, due to a highly scientific quirk relating to orbital distances and other complex laws of physics, at the peak of the harvest farmers can work late into the night, as this moon rises at nearly the same time every evening giving them all that extra light. Fortunately I have no harvesting to be done, because for the second month in a row, there seems to be total cloud cover around the time of the full moon. I am still hoping for a miracle tomorrow night but not counting my chickens. (Wonder if the Native Americans also did that by the light of this brilliant Harvest Moon.)
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