Paul Burke » Paul Burke

John Cooper-Clarke, Bernard Manning and Michael Gove.

Paul — Fri, 26 Jul 2019 13:38:23 +0000

In one of the best episodes ever, John Cooper-Clarke was on Desert Island Discs this morning, Dubbed the “punk poet”, he was always much more than that. Interestingly, he praised two very unlikely, very un-punk figures for aiding his success. He credited Bernard Manning with giving him his first break. But years before that, his English teacher instilled a love of poetry in the whole class by making them read poems off-by-heart “Michael Gove style” which, he said was “the only way”. I worked with him once and he was wonderful – simultaneously weird and very down-to-earth. He was also the palest, skinniest man I’ve ever seen. He came into the studio, said he was “Fookin’ starving”, picked up a small satsuma and ate it. “Ooh”, he said, “That really hit the spot”. Full-up on a satsuma. For me, John Cooper-Clarke, especially with Dion among this morning’s choices – always hits the spot.

I should have put money on it.

Paul — Wed, 24 Jul 2019 16:29:49 +0000

I should have gone down to the bookies about ten years ago when I first thought that Boris Johnson would become Prime Minister. Even when I said so on this very blog five years ago, I’d have got very decent odds. Back then, he wasn’t even an MP and Brexit wasn’t even a word. Beneath that clownish facade lurks an astoundingly bright, ferociously ambitious schemer who’s once again outfoxed his detractors. Yet some still insist that he’s a bone-idle buffoon, ill-disciplined and ill-prepared for Number Ten. Trust me, meticulous preparations will have been made over the last three years as the hapless Theresa May careered from one disaster to the next. A formidable team will have worked out exactly what they think should be done and tomorrow, they’ll swing into action. Whether this will be good or bad remains to be seen but I imagine this will be Boris’s theme tune.

Fifty years since man first went to the moon.

Paul — Thu, 18 Jul 2019 11:38:36 +0000

It’s the first real moment in history that I can actually remember. Throughout the 1960s, the whole world was obsessed with space. And yet, once the USA had beaten the USSR to the moon, the “Space Race” slowed down dramatically then fizzled out completely. This despite predictions that we’d all soon be travelling to Outer Space and possibly moving to Mars. And yet no human being has journeyed outside the Earth’s orbit since 1972. Bit odd, isn’t it? A lot of people believe – with quite compelling evidence – that the Moon landings never happened. I’m not sure I agree but if this famous conspiracy theory turned out to be true, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised. For me, this record sums up that era perfectly. Because in 1969, there were two things I desperately wanted to be: an astronaut and a skinhead.

Normally, I’d have cycled.

Paul — Tue, 16 Jul 2019 16:01:04 +0000

I love to ride my bike, especially on a beautiful day like today, but sadly I don’t enjoy it any more. There’s far less room on the roads now but not because there are more cars. It’s more because cars today are so much wider. Compare the size of the current Mini, Fiesta or Fiat 500 with their predecessors. And that’s before we get to all the SUVs, 4x4s, gigantic buses and gargantuan dustcarts. But even that’s not the main reason. It’s chiefly because London’s roads have been narrowed into “pinch points” and made so much more hazardous for cyclists with humps, slabs and traffic islands. There’s no longer the space necessary for the weaving and wiggling that made cycling such a pleasure. In short, it’s just….well, I’ll let Iggy explain.

If only I hadn’t been such a coward.

Paul — Mon, 15 Jul 2019 20:24:33 +0000

i don’t mind admitting this because I’m sure I’m not alone: I was always too frightened to play cricket. I played happily in the playground or in the street with a tennis ball but with a real cricket ball? Forget it. Way too hard. I’ve been ski-ing down black runs and regularly ridden a motorbike at 100 mph in shorts but cricket with a cricket ball was always far too scary. Shame. Because had I ever played the game, I might have been interested enough to watch England beat New Zealand in the World Cup Final yesterday and experience what’s been described as the most exciting cricket match of all time. But sadly, my knowledge of cricket is limited to knowing that the theme to Test Match Special is Soul Limbo by Booker T & The MGs

I’ve run out of uncles.

Paul — Wed, 10 Jul 2019 08:06:46 +0000

I used to have loads. My mum had four brothers and my dad had six. And they were just the real, blood-relative uncles. There were also all my aunts’ husbands and the friends of my parents whom, like any 1970s child, I’d address as “Uncle” or “Auntie”. But yesterday, my Uncle Norman died. He was my mum’s youngest brother and the last remaining one. I am now an uncle orphan. But then, of course, my generation are the aunts and uncles now. And we have been for many years. In my case, since around the time this record was in the charts.

Rock’n’Roll becomes an Old Age Pensioner.

Paul — Sun, 07 Jul 2019 10:55:08 +0000

Sixty-five years ago today, a DJ called Dewey Phillips on WHBQ in Memphis played a new record by an unknown 19-year-old singer. Just listen to it and it’s hard hard to imagine by it was an instant sensation and the station was inundated with calls for Dewey to play it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Dewey had to play it six times in the same show and the rest is history. Sadly, DJs enjoy no longer any musical freedom. Commercial radio is the most tightly controlled of all UK media. There is no way that a raw and unproven local talent like Elvis would be allowed on to a bland, pre-programmed and risk-averse playlist where any sort of innovation is crushed. History would never have been made and rock ‘n’ roll would never have happened.

Cockles and whelks.

Paul — Sat, 06 Jul 2019 19:57:08 +0000

I was at the seaside today and, and as always, got myself a little portion of cockles and whelks, soused in malt vinegar. As I walked towards the seafood stall, this song came into my head. Well, just the line “I’m like a one-eyed cat peeping in a seafood store”. It was only then, after all these years, I suddenly realised what that actually meant and how fabulously obscene the whole song is.

Another lovely birthday.

Paul — Wed, 03 Jul 2019 21:33:06 +0000

Gorgeous weather, kind wishes and thoughtful gifts. But the older we get, the more desperate we become for any indication that we’re not ageing as quickly and horribly as the mirror would have us believe. So my favourite bit today was when someone (with patently poor eyesight) asked me whether I’d hit the “Big Five-0″ yet. I hit the “Big Five-0″ some years ago. In fact, I’m now midway between the Big Five-0 and this song applying to me. Second thoughts, it never will. Because the day when “I could be handy, mending a fuse” is never going to come.

The perfect antidote to Glastonbury.

Paul — Sun, 30 Jun 2019 20:24:04 +0000

Glastonbury. What’s not to loathe? So smug, middle-class and “establishment”. A bit like the Chelsea Flower Show or Last Night of The Proms. But at least these events and those involved in them acknowledge that they’re solidly establishment. Whereas middle-aged “Glasto” enthusiasts behave as though they’re rebellious and non-conformist. “Ooh, aren’t we edgy? We’ve got Stormzy this year and Kylie’s headlining even though we despised her in her heyday”. As for the John Peel Stage – let’s not even go there. So it was rather nice to chance upon Greg Edwards on Mi-Soul this afternoon. A man who, through his groundbreaking Soul Spectrum show on Capital in the 70s and 80s did more to popularise black music in this country than practically any other broadcaster. Here’s a classic Soul Spectrum tune and let’s remember – without Greg Edwards in 1978 there would be no Stormzy in 2019.