M1-48 Kevin Coyne

JAMES, MARK & ME (IN THE MANNER OF TOM WAITS) by Kevin Coyne

These three faces were drawn by Kevin with remarkable fluency and spontaneity, for inclusion on the Miniatures poster. They really look alive, don’t they – as if they could start speaking at any moment. Now I wonder: which one is Rothko, which one Joyce and which Coyne (or maybe Waits)??? Kevin gives nothing away, and with this vivid song trips laughingly into the afterlife leaving us to ponder. In his miniature declaration of independence AND empathy with three of the most startling figures of the twentieth century, he found time to call to the beckoning afterlife not once, but TEN times:

Oh Mark Rothko!
Or may I say – you’re beautiful – beautiful
Oh, you’re so beautiful!
And you and Jimmy Joyce

Are dancing with one voice
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
In Heaven
And I will be with you SOON – laughing….!

“Soon”, as it turned out, was 24 years later, and it was too damn soon, for he was only 60 years old when lung fibrosis took him from us peacefully at home in Nuremberg. He’d spent his last two decades there, following a nervous breakdown and an exit from England. At that time he was able to quit his drink habit, and his creativity took off like a rocket, with book-writing and painting added to his prolific recording and touring activities. And I mean prolific – in 1992 he painted 1000 pictures, given away with a 1000-CD issue of his Burning Head album. Life really seemed to begin at forty (approx) for Kevin. This 3-part documentary beautifully shows Kevin in his happiest, final years, blooming in Nuremberg with his son Robert and his wife Helmi who is nothing less than an angel. If you don’t watch any other videos linked to in this blog – watch this one. All three parts. Tissues may be needed 💛

(Oh, and then read this interview with Helmi. Bring more tissues) 💙

(Oh and then keep in touch via Kevin’s Facebook page, where Helmi posts from time to time) 💚

I had some heartwarming yet brief experiences of the peaceful side of Kevin, several times when I met him (usually by chance) in various pubs, or more often rock clubs in London in the year or two prior to Miniatures. Although a mere six years older than me, he had a welcoming, avuncular air about him with his bear hug greeting, and then frequent warm shoulder/arm squeezes to make a friendly point as we chatted. I didn’t know then that as a young man he had worked for four years as a psychiatric nurse and drugs counsellor, but he did seem to me like the ideal therapist (who I’ve still not met yet, by the way) who heals by warmth, chatting, caring, touching, and smiling. In a word, camaraderie. Just a pleasure to be with for a slightly confused young fellow like wot I was then. Sometimes, after an hour or two’s steady sipping, the demon drink would start to take hold. Then his voice would get louder and more strident as he increasingly barked out his pain and frustration with the world in general. In these darker moments he reminded me of Mott’s mentor Guy Stevens, who had a similar mix of brilliant musical sensibility and raging anger. At times, sadly ‘cos I couldn’t seem to reason with him, I’d have to make my excuses, give him a hug and leave him to vent. It seemed dark clouds were looming on his horizon, the mindstorms that would drive him out of his own country and on to the sunnier fields of Bavaria.

But fuelled by this genuine passion, Kevin’s musical career had been going ahead full steam, with a series of ten well-received, uncompromising albums on Virgin Records between 1972 and 1980. During that time he also co-wrote a musical referencing the Kray twins, and co-produced a documentary film on art activities in a high security psychiatric hospital. Such was the gritty honesty and emotional drive in his music (epitomised so beautifully in his miniature) that he was praised by Johnny Rotten (on Desert Island Discs, of all programmes) and his songs were covered by The Mekons, Ruts DC, Wreckless Eric and Will Oldham, among others.

He never seemed very comfortable with the idea of being a performer and a public figure and especially a popstar, but he did it anyway. He just had to. In this TV video from 1978 you can see he is driven, and he’s really good at dancing his fears away, almost pogoing with the Devil. In this live clip he sings, alone, a cappella, his classic, very raw Marjory Razorblade, perhaps influenced by an inmate he met in a mental ward who had attempted to end their life with cold steel. Five years earlier he belted out this version which leads into a raucous jam showing what a fine, powerful blues voice he had. Someone left a poignant, poetic comment on this one:

Eastbourne Ladies flashing their knickers,
Jackie in his boarding house, paper hat on head,
pining for Edna, his love long gone.
Lives played out in the shadow of the mental hospital
on the hill where Coyne once worked.
Max Wall singing the blues.
A desolate, desperate, beautiful scrapbook of stories,
a scuffed blues bestiary spat out by England’s Gogol,
the Bard of Derby, Kevin Coyne,
dead at 60, coughing his lungs up,
missed like mad.

The blues were in Kevin’s blood from a young age. His first band Siren were championed by seminal UK DJ John Peel. In a review of their second album, noted US music writer Robert Christgau wrote in Christgau’s Record Guide: Rock Albums of the Seventies : “Like Fleetwood Mac, this is British blues that neither chokes on false roots nor enmires itself in boogie reductionism. Kevin Coyne’s humorously belligerent drawl embodies the band’s wit and its punk chauvinism.”

Inevitably, Kevin with his fierce creative drive had to move away from blues covers and co-composing and onwards to a full-on solo career, after just two Siren albums. One of the last of his prolific Virgin Records output is of special interest: an album called “Babble” made in collaboration with Dagmar Krause, singer of Slapp Happy, Henry Cow, Art Bears and other brilliantly experimental combos. (Sidenote: Dagmar sang on this short Japanese TV ad for mineral water I composed in 2000):

Dydo Miu TV ad


On the Babble LP sleeve Kevin hand-wrote these words:
‘Babble’ is essentially a love story.
The lovers are shown struggling to communicate –
succeeding then failing.
The lovers are lost… does it really matter?
It’s the late sixties…
He loves she and she loves him
his heart his blood and hers his soap
but love lusts on and they just mope
to find themselves together.

American artist Will Oldham (AKA Bonnie Prince Billy) claimed that Babble had “changed my life” and covered two songs from the album: Come Down Here and I Confess. He also formed a side project called The Babblers, to play only covers of songs from Babble.
Kevin staged Babble as a live musical dialogue in a stark stage setting at London’s Oval Theatre, with Kevin and Dagmar standing on opposite sides of a table, as many couples do in their kitchens, painfully thrashing out their relationship. Here’s a snippet of it in another setting, followed by some words from Kevin.

Some words from Kevin… I think now I should just hand you over to these videos and let him speak for himself, his amazing self…

🔴 STRANGE LOCOMOTION the 2nd single by Siren (released 1971 – not sure when this concert was). Followed by a brief, wry interview.

🔴 HOUSE ON THE HILL on The Old Grey Whistle Test, BBC TV, 1973. Written whilst working as an orderly in a mental hospital and suffering from depression himself.

🔴 SUNDAY MORNING SUNRISE in front of the bleak Berlin Wall, 1982 – yet it’s a love song about a Sunday morning cuddle.

🔴 ENGLAND ENGLAND 1986. TV doc where Kevin discusses his musical England England depicting early 60s Britain under the threat of the Kray twins. Features musical extracts.

Eventually, Kevin did make it to heaven, I’m sure. After all, he did ask to come in, as shown in this last, overpowering video, which has a long German-language introduction. Even without understanding the words you can tell how much the guy loves Kevin. And when Kevin does come on… well, all I can say is, this is as real as it gets. Bless you, Kevin; I’m very, very proud and honoured to have your light shining on Miniatures 🙏

🔴 KNOCKING ON HEAVEN’S DOOR

Postscript: a song I found while trawling youtube, called “KC – in memory of Kevin Coyne,” Beautifully elegiac. Performed in Finland in 2007, three years after he left us. I’ll try to find the lyrics…

Next up: three cool (French hep) cats...

Read/Leave Comment