Guitar Gods in Beds. (Bedfordshire: A Heavenly County). Mike Buchanan
book in themselves.
Hollerin’ Bob Foley – I first saw Bob perform at The Ship, in 2005. He played Jack of Diamonds and brought the house down. He was then a well-known abdominal surgeon in Bedford Hospital, shortly to retire. A real character and a born raconteur, they don’t make ‘em like Bob anymore.
Amazin’ Max Milligan – It was some time after I discovered the local music scene that I first saw Max perform. But whenever people talked about great local guitarists, Max’s name came up. And people often used the same word to describe his playing: amazing. When I first saw him play, I realised why.
Blindin’ Dave King – Although Dave is very well known in the local music scene, I didn’t actually see him perform until my 50th birthday concert. People often used the term ‘amazing’ to describe him, but I’d already used the term for Max Milligan. Then someone described his playing as ‘blinding’, so that was it. You’ll never see a better lead guitarist on a stage, nor meet a more modest man.
Lightnin’ Hands Pete Rose – I knew Pete and his charming wife Eileen from conversations at The Ship, during Paul Bonas’s residency, over the course of a couple of years. He never mentioned that he himself played the guitar. So I was stunned one evening to see him take the stage with Cliff Hanson and play lead guitar on a number of tracks, including the obligatory All Along the Watchtower. He’s a terrific guitarist. I couldn’t believe the speed of his hands, hence the name.
Mumblin’ Cliff Hanson – Cliff has a remarkably clear singing voice, but for some reason I’ve never quite fathomed, when he talks into a microphone it’s difficult to understand a word. On one famous occasion at The Ship he spoke for over a minute between songs, and the only words anyone could make out were ‘Dylan’ and ‘Pete’. He’d make a terrific train station announcer. Maybe then he’d be made redundant less often.
Thunderin’ Paul Carrington – Paul is a ‘larger-than-life’ character, well known to many of the residents of Bedford. He always reminds me of the comedian Al Murray, ‘The Pub Landlord’. Even his normal speaking voice is loud, to the point that my old cat Albert runs in terror from the house when Paul comes through the door. There, I’ve finally mentioned Albert in a book.
In 2007 and 2008 Paul was a chauffeur and an amiable companion during two month-long holidays in France. I related details of the holidays in my book Two Men in a Car (a businessman, a chauffeur, and their holidays in France), and I’ve included a sample chapter at the end of this book, ‘Would you like to have sex with my wife?’
Laughin’ John Verity – I first saw John playing alongside Max Milligan at a charity function in the village hall in Cardington, where he lives. I knew John had a strong background in the music scene and had performed internationally, so I thought he might consider a small event beneath him. Not a bit of it. He performed with great gusto, and seemed always to be smiling or laughing. He’s also married to his sixth wife. Not bad for a man who professes to dislike change. You couldn’t make it up.
My own passion for guitar-based live music started with Tony Bennett. Not the American crooner, but the lad I shared a room with at Princethorpe College, a single-sex Catholic boarding school in Warwickshire, from the ages of 13 to 16, between 1970 and 1973. Tony was already a highly accomplished acoustic guitar player, and he introduced me to the music of Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, James Taylor, Fairport Convention, and many others great acts.
I’ve been a fan of guitar-based music (folk, blues, country, rock…) ever since. I bought Bob Dylan’s More Greatest Hits, a double LP compilation, at the age of 14, and played it endlessly. I still think Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right is the most perfect piece of modern music ever recorded. Well, along with his later Sara, Changing of the Guard, Señor…
At 16 – after completing my O levels – I was given the choice of remaining in single-sex public schools (where I’d been educated since the age of seven) for my sixth-form years, or going to Cedars, a co-educational school in Leighton Buzzard. There followed a battle between intelligence and testosterone, always – at least in my own experience – a very brief one. At last I’d be mingling with young ladies, until that time a distinct yet attractively exotic species. Yeehah.
And so it was that in 1974 and 1975 I spent many happy evenings watching fine live music at various pubs in the Leighton Buzzard area, most notably The Black Horse. The legendary John Otway – shortly after to have a hit single with Cor Baby, That’s Really Free (1977) – remains burned in the memory. His occasional habit of writhing about on the floor as if having an epileptic fit, whilst still playing the guitar and singing, didn’t endear him to the folkies in their Arran jumpers. But the younger people like myself loved him. 30 years later I saw him perform with Wilko Johnson, the outstanding former lead guitarist with Dr Feelgood, at the Cambridge Corn Exchange. It was one of the happiest nights of my life.
I could go on rambling about great guitarists and performers for ever, but that’s not the point of the book, which is to pay tribute to guitarists in general, and to those in the Bedford area in particular.
I came to live in Bedford in 1995, but it wasn’t until some years later that I stumbled across Bedford’s terrific live music scene, when I first saw Paul Bonas and others play at The Ship. They were always happy evenings, assisted by a pint or two of Greene King Abbot Ale. At other public houses I might down a pint or two of Charles Wells Bombardier.
I like the fact that some people consider Bedford a ‘sleepy’ town, and Bedfordshire a ‘sleepy’ county. I’ve heard Bedford called ‘Deadford’. To the question, ‘Where are you going for your holiday?’, has anyone ever replied ‘Bedford’, or ‘Bedfordshire’? I think not. Which leaves a great town and a great county to be enjoyed by its residents. As if to illustrate the town’s and the county’s lack of impact, I recently had the following conversation with a lady at a call centre:
| LADY: | Where do you live? |
| SELF: | Bedford. |
| LADY: | Would that be in Buckinghamshire? |
| SELF: | No, it would be in Bedfordshire. It has been for some time, I believe. |
I think Bedford is a great place to live. You just need some help finding its jewels, like the live music scene.
I really enjoyed writing this book, and I hope you enjoy reading it. If you haven’t seen all these people perform, you should remedy that. You’ll be in for a treat.
I leave you with the immortal words of Thunderin’ Paul Carrington, ‘Why would anyone want to live anywhere but Bedford? It’s a great place to live!’
1
FINGER PICKIN’ GOOD PAUL BONAS
If you can’t fight, wear a big hat!
Paul Bonas (56)
My parents – living in Clapham – motorbikes – early musical influences – my first guitar – blackmailing mum – ‘Chi-chi-boom’ – early gigs with brother Pete – the slum on Goldington Avenue – the wild Irishmen – ‘Donkey Knob’ Spinelli – The Blues Club – Donovan’s girlfriend, Saffron – dealing with drunk hecklers – women, the occupational hazards for musicians – my ads on Chiltern Radio – The Pump House Boys – the tragic tale of Sid Worth – The Ship – St Cuthbert’s Street – three daughters with three women – I terrify my girlfriend in Great Barford – the demonic businesswoman – Elaine
My mum Celine is Irish. She came from County Carlow in Ireland, and was one of eight children in her family. Her father was a clever bloke, but like lots of Irishmen in those days he was pissed all the time, so he was incapable of looking after the kids. They were brought up in all sorts of difficult circumstances. My mum was educated by nuns in a convent from the age of eight, when her mother died. At the age of 18 she decided she’d had enough of Ireland and came to England.
My dad Raney was English,