Around 1972, during the day time, writers, poets met up in city centre cafes like the Kongoni - Dave 'Byron' Reed often held court. Another place was the Lyons bar (in the post war pre-fabricated shops opposite Lady Godiva - this is now long-gone and the Wimpy bar - in the mock Tudor building by the steps to Trinity Church. (Not sure what it is
now!). Often I'd meet Scon (Steve Connelly) in the Wimpy bar and often we would write something each in the cafe and read it to the waiteresses or anyone likely to listen and some of the pieces made it into my Communication Books - ie A4 note books which I carried around in order to get contributions of creative writing, thoughts and graphics from all the creative people I met on my wanders. One day, inspired by all the interesting names of dishes on the Wimpy Bar menu Scon came up with a couple of poems called Wimpying Blues! They were mainly a bit of fun!
Below are those poems / lyrics and some some cuttings - Scon was one of the first in Cov to have his hair tinted as you will see from the cuttings below (1973).
WIMPYING BLUES – Scon
Listening to the
Hissin’, husslin’, howling wind,
I sank back in my chair
And read the Wimpy bar menu.
(on the recommendation of a friend)
and fell back into a world
of butterscotch bonanzas
Wild honey bread rolls
(with butter of course)
Glorious knickerbockers
And specialy grilled cathedrals
And Polynesians given a roastin’
Bender brunches floatin’ away
Onbanana longboats
Which eventually sank
In the strawberry flacoured thick shake.
But coming down with a bump
As I sipped the last filthy dregs
Of that foul brew which they call tea,
I noticed the small print
“The management reserve the right
to make a 10p minimum charge per person”
and I was in the forbidden hours
of 12am to 2 pm.
WIMPYING BLUES 2
(Concerning the music)
To listen is to hear
To hear
Is to consume
Similar to wot is done to
Wimpy bar food
Which Is consumed
(believe it or not)
and those unbelievable
sounds of how
‘I did it My Way’
slowly drift across
the atmosphere
and weird trumpets
producing ‘This Guy’s in Love with You’
dear
seem to take their toll
of unbelievers who sneer
at this moving experience.
So let yourself float away
On Wimpy sounds
Let your mind be thrilled
By the rhythms of Downtown
(where all the Wimpy’s are)
and de music’s all so blue
it brings me to tears
and it brings all my fears to a head.
But even if you don’t dig it,
A wimpy wouldn’t be a Wimpy
Without music.
WHITE MAN’S BLUES
Well I can’t sing de blues
Well I can’t sing de blues baby
You know ‘cause I’m too blue
I walk across de street
See a man beggin’ at my feet
I wanna give him some money
But I haven’t got a penny
I walk into the shop
Wanna buy something
But I ain’t got nothing
I spent hours over a cup of tea
Thinkin’ my baby; she don’t love me
So I sing a song
‘bout Vietnam, Bangladesh,
Northern Ireland, Israel
And British lies
and hate
Russian oppression
Chinese degradation
Black panthers
Klu Klux Klan
Yippies
And hippies
Freebies
And greebies
And everything’s too late
So my song’s one of hate
Well baby de blues ain’t to be sung
De blues are to be forgotten.
When my pen runs out
These will slowly come
To a halt.
When my mind runs out
They’ll never start again.
This is nice and obscure, the Scon who would roadie for The Clash in '76 under the moniker Ratty Roadent!
Posted by: Isotope | 04/30/2007 at 04:58 PM
Wow - Really - Scon - the wee beastie rodent - became the Clash's roadie - I never knew what had happened to him. Thanks Kev - that's interesting.
Posted by: HOBO - Coventry Music Magazine | 04/30/2007 at 05:25 PM
Yep Its pictures that jog my memory , was never too good with names. I met him via Byron probably a little earlier than this, and probably in the International Centre. I had gotten out of the Kongoni habit during the Gnome period as my old lefty mates in there thought it was a joke. (but always the place to head for on brief homecomings... to find Byron)
I think they were working on some grand project with Malcolm.
Dredgerdave
Posted by: BroadgateGnome | 04/30/2007 at 07:21 PM