If I mentioned the phrase folk music, you might think of bearded men with one finger stuck in their ear singing songs about wassailing, with lyrics like ‘Oi ‘ad one lassy in the dewsoaked ‘ay, and we went with a way and a hay ninny nonny…’
Jake Thackray wasn’t like that. Unbearded, fingers focussed on a nylon stringed guitar, Thackray sang songs that were wistful, hilarious, sensitive or acidic. Sometimes all four in one song. He was, in short, one of England’s greatest troubadours.
Originally from Leeds, Thackray spent time in France and discovered the music of Jacques Brel and Georges Brassens. Mixing music with storytelling, Thackray brought inspiration back to England and began to perform his self-penned songs to pubs and various low key venues. He was a musical genius and did things with words you wouldn’t think possible.
The bull, the bull is the biggest of all.
He is the boss, he is, because he’s big and we are small.
But the bigger the bull, bigger the bull, bigger the balls.
The bigger the bull, the bigger and quicker and thicker the bullshite falls.
Thanks to one song, ‘On Again On Again,’ about his wife who won’t stop talking, Thackray was accused of misogyny. The accusation was selectively ignorant because it overlooked Thackray’s canon which included some of the most beautiful exultations to a wife/partner/lover. And the Hair of the Widow of Bridlington is a song about a woman bursting with life and celebration.
She learned to play the violin, she did, did the widow of Brid,
And Saturday night in a drinking shop
She jumped upon the counter top
And fiddled till the dancers dropped,
She did, she did, she did,
Stomping upon the copper top
She did, did the widow of Brid.
By the time Thackray became a household name he had recorded several albums and made regular guest slots on various television programmes where he was almost writing songs to order. And still the standard never dropped. He could churn them out at will, but he never enjoyed this approach to his craft. Thackray wanted to tell stories, not pass comment on the latest issues of the day.
His stories, his yarns, could be anything: an escaped convict hiding in a monastery disguised as a nun (Oh, Sister Josephine, What do all these policemen mean, By coming to the convent in a grim limousine, After Sister Josephine? ); the Swaledale rural bus service (Country bus, north country bus, Clumsy and cumbersome, rumbustious, Country bus, north country bus, Though you’re a slow coach you’re OK for us.); and devil worshipping in The Castleford Ladies’ Magic Circle!
Their husbands potter at snooker down the club,
Unaware of the devilish jiggery-poke and rub-a-dub-dub,
While Elizabeth Jones and Lily O’Grady
And three or four more married ladies
Are frantically dancing naked for Beelzebub.
In one review on Amazon, some halfwit bemoaned Thackray’s ‘affected Yorkshire accent,’ as if a man from Yorkshire could sing with anything other than a Yokshire accent. Thackray’s delivery was precise, accurate, but occasionally eccentric as he spread his words across the metre and rhythm of the music.
When I first heard Thackray in the early 1980s. I laughed like a drain at his rendition of Country Girl and the spreading of the word bicycle over one too many syllables. But over the years I came to learn the strangeness wasn’t strange, it was a unique oral signature that made Thackray unmistakable.
As music tastes shifted and demand for Thackray diminished he retired to Monmouth in Wales and apparently died penniless. Today he has impersonators, the most well known being Fake Thackray; impersonators devoted to keeping his legacy alive. And it is a legacy as rich and varied as any Poet Laureate; a legacy overlooked, which is a shame, because in the history of English music Thackray should be up there at the top table.
Somehow, I can’t imagine the French ignoring the work of Jacques Brel and Georges Brassens. The English should be shouting Jake Thackray’s name from the rooftops.
Salvation Army Girl:
Salvation Army girl,
She plays the bugle in the Sunday street-corner band.
Bright and early girl,
With her shiny face and her bony hands.
But although her nose is cold,
Behind her spectacles her eyes are gold.
And she’s whispered to me that she might
Be all things bright and beautiful tonight.
Learn more about the magical world and magical words of Jake Thackray here – Jake Thackray website and song lyrics
The Hair of the Widow of Bridlington:
My late mother was one of his friends at Durham University, where they studied English together. She lost touch with him afterwards, and was absolutely delighted to rediscover him on TV when the BBC broadcast the series Jake Thackray And Songs in January 1981. She told me that he was a thoroughly decent and very unassuming man, you lived modestly and sent a large portion of his student grant home to his widowed mother.
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Thanks for commenting. Jane Dougherty’s response a bit further down also testifies to Thackray’s concern for others. His honesty and good nature comes out in so many of his songs.
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Good old Jake. My mother was a big fan and my father hated him. Despite being a rebellious teenager at the time, and being into rebellious teenager music, I had a sneaky regard for Jake and always enjoyed his performances. He used to do a weekly slot on, I think, Braden’s Week, which was like a forerunner to That’s Life. I shall now watch the videos.
Alen
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His music may have been traditional, but there was often a subversive quality to his lyrics that I’m sure would tickle the zips of the most pierced punk rocker. The Brigadier, Rooster Juice etc.
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I love what you do with words. Reading you is a treat. Keep up the great work.
I’ll be glad if you could visit my blog too 🙂
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Thank you; glad you enjoy the reading. I’ve visited your blog.
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It was a pleasure reading you. Thanks. 🙂
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I’ve never heard of Jake Thackray, so that’s why I clicked on the youtube video. He’s great! Love his funny intro. I’m assuming that was sweat and not tears rolling on his face (then again, the credits were scrolling at the end, so it could have been the end of the show–yeah, okay, it’s sweat). 🙂
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That was sweat. Thirty minutes of hard graft and concentration. Allow yourself a day on Youtube to discover this man’s work. It’s a treasure chest of songwriting.
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I think the most hilarious of all his songs was ‘The Bantam Cock’, about his sex-starved cockerel. Some of the lines are sublime: Upon the peace of me ducks and me geese he rudely did intrude, with glazed eyes and open mouths they bore it all with fortitude, and a little bit of gratitude! The last verse is the best where the bantam cock lays on the ground pretending to be dead and the vultures are circling overhead…..
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“You see them big daft buggars up there… They’ll be down in a minute or two…” Brilliant. And he sings it with the Bantam Cock’s leery voice!
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There was another funny one about a beauty competition ….’What does Miss USA say, she says that she’s everyone’s sister, but she don’t give a damn about Miss Vi-et-nam, and she reckons Miss Russia’s a mister’!
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Miss World. That’s one of the satirical songs written to order!
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The other one I remember is the song North Country Bus. The world is a sadder place without him.
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Thanks for your Goodreads vote by the way.
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You’re welcome.
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I remember him. His family lived in the flat above my Aunty Winnie in Leeds. She was a huge fan. He went to Saint Mick’s which probably endeared him to her since I don’t think she was at all musical.
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What a small world. Presumably St. Micks is the Jesuit college, St. Michaels? I suppose you could ignore the music and listen to the words.
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Yup. My first boyfriend went to St Mick’s. Aunty Winnie liked Jake Thackray mainly, I think, because he used to give her the time of day. She was quite an old lady (my great aunt) and appreciated any of the young folk who called in to see if she needed anything.
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He gives me the impression of being the sort of bloke who would do that. Honesty often goes with decency.
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