Tomorrow, You're Gone — Pinpoints the insecurities I still feel as a lone touring folksinger, even after all these years.
Uncle Walter — By Tom Gala, that sensitive Philadelphian tree-surgeon who has branched out (sorry Tom!) into songwriting.
Run the Film Backwards — Thanks to Nick Keir of the McCalmans who put me on to this intriguing Sydney Carter song, to which I added some of my own lines.
My Old Man — How many of us have regrets like this?
It's So Easy to Dream — A wee gem this one. Learned from Rick Lee as we cowered in the kitchen of his Massachusetts home, while Hurricane Bertha raged outside. The words are Bob Frankie's, the whimpering is mine and the tree crashing through the roof is Rick's …
When I'm Gone — I'm often asked why I sing so many finger-pointing songs. Greg and Terry, of Magpie, taught me this Phil Ochs song, which supplies the perfect answer.
The January Man — A year in the life of...as mirrored by the poetic pen of Dave Goulder.
The Farm Auction — After thirty years of singer-songwriting, Enoch Kent goes from strength to strength, unlike the farm folk whose declining fortunes he describes here.
The Wheelchair Talking Blues — I just had to sing this one after watching a TV programme which exposed the lack of understanding and the difficulties encountered by wheelchair-bound people in public buildings. After a concert one night, I asked a girl in a wheelchair what she'd thought about the song. "I loved it", she said, "but could you perhaps add a verse about those people who pat us on the head?"
The Song of The Pineapple Rag — Dear Scott Joplin, I hope you had a sense of humour and that you'll forgive this ridiculous, rambling, raving rendition of ragtime.
First You Lose the Rhyming — About a has-been. Still, it's better to have been a has-been than a never-was. Right?
Waltzing Around in The Nude — Dear Lord, when I'm eighty, allow me the joie-de-vivre of Edna and her partner. Amen.
Five Ways to Kill A Man — My own adaption to song of Edwin Brock's chilling poem.
Midnight, after a concert
Dundee University Folk Club
Myself plus Brian McNeill and Alan Reid, members of Battlefield Band
Brian • "Why don't we get together on your next album Iain?"
Alan • "A good idea"
Iain • "You're on!"
All Three • "Fancy a beer?"
That was twelve years ago. Since then, our touring and recording lives developed separately, but over the years we've had chance meetings in diverse places such as Bask, Boston, Hamburg, Leiden and at the Tonder Festival in Denmark. Each time, we'd renew our old friendship and say things like "We must get together for that album" and "Fancy a beer?" This year, at last, came a time when our availabilities coincided, when I knew I had the right songs, and so a long-time promise was honoured. Brian, Alan, it was well worth waiting for. Thanks for the imaginative musical arrangements, the immaculate playing, and the perfectionism that has become your hallmark Three large beers, please.
All of us are grateful to 'Peerless' Pete Haigh, the sound-recording engineer who became like a fourth member of the group. Thanks, Pete, for all the patience, perception and pondwater tea.