CLIFFORD T WARD: An Appreciation by Peter Daltrey

Considering my admiration for his work, it is somewhat ironic that as Clifford T.Ward`s recording career was beginning, my own was coming to an end. My band had struggled for eight years to achieve success. But success in the music business is measured in chart placings and by that criterion we had failed. In 1971 the band broke up and I fled from London to the ancient hills of Wiltshire.

Some, looking at Clifford T.Ward`s recording career, would consider that only one decent chart placing to his credit would also disqualify him from pop`s over-crowded Hall of Fame. Indeed, it is a meagre success compared with many other artists. But as one who would like to see the end of the Top Ten`s tyrannical hold over the music business, I would suggest that surveying the vast panorama of the CTW catalogue -- with its diversity of styles, its consistency of quality and its peaks of brilliance -- we are looking upon the work of one of Britain`s greatest singer-songwriters. Over-looked by the masses, Clifford`s work is cherished by the few. I number myself amongst those who turn, time and time again, to those songs and to that unique, but often fragile voice.

A prolific songwriter, Clifford has produced an impressive amount of work over the two decades of his recording career. During the Seventies when disco Muzak reigned and the Eighties when a new generation of `musicians` displayed their contempt for the music business with its hierarchy of over-paid stars and its abundance of over-produced and often posturing pop, by inventing their own brand of Neanderthal noise, CTW deftly side-stepped all the fuss and gave us album after album of carefully crafted songs.

Not that he was above writing a good pop song. As a songwriter myself I know that heart-stopping moment when your record company delivers the ultimatum: "Give us something a bit more commercial." The pop song -- traditionally around three minutes duration, lively and with an oft-repeated chorus -- is usually banal, irritating and insidious. It is also impossible to write. I`ve tried it and the results were -- well, banal, to give the efforts more praise than they deserve.

However, it is possible to avoid the clichés and inject some intelligence into the process and Clifford has done this on several occasions. If up-tempo singalongability is the requirement I suggest you try `Carrie` (Singer-Songwriter 1972) or `Circus Girl` from the same first album. And who but Clifford T.Ward could write a song about a coathanger, for goodness sake? Or cellophane and the Open University, for that matter! My daughter has a tape of all her favourite CTW tracks and knows all the words to all the songs. Long car journeys find her wearing her Walkman warbling along to `Circus Girl` and `Time, the Magician` (Home Thoughts 1973,) the latter a perfect example of a superficially simple song concealing a well-crafted construction of verses and choruses, uncluttered arrangements and memorable lyrics which, if you care to stop singing along and listen, are thought-provoking. Not bad for a pop song. `The Dubious Circus Company` (Home Thoughts 1973) has a chorus that is so addictive it should carry a Government health warning!

Another example of the song-writer`s skill at work is `Are you really interested?` (Mantelpieces 1973.) There is an immediacy to this arrangement: the rhythm is infectious from the first bar. Here is also a good example of Clifford`s predilection for domestically inclined lyrics. We hear about the empty vase on the table by the window, followed by the intriguing line: " -- And over by the door is where you cried and felt embarrassed." But without delay we get to the point of a good pop song: the unforgettable chorus, this one a confection of gentle guitars, tambourine, sympathetic harmonies and rhyming couplets. I defy you not to join in. Also recommended for the closet singer: `Jigsaw Girl` (Escalator 1975) and dance whilst dusting to `Scullery` (Mantelpieces 1973.)

I only have three of Clifford`s albums so can, perhaps, be forgiven for not mentioning your favourite songs. But if you`re looking for songs with anthemic choruses which you can`t help singing, one might be `Ocean of Love` (Waves 1976) another, `Where do angels really come from?` (Both of us 1982.) `Ocean of Love` has a chorus possessed of huge melodic waves, so much so that I could imagine it echoing from the Wembley terraces, adapted by the masses for a cup final, although the sentiments might be seriously out of kilter with the occasion.

`Where do angels really come from?` is a whole song built around one great title line. Clifford makes no excuses. Some brief verses and then we are into the chorus, repeated just enough times to make you want more. Never outstay your welcome. Another example of this no-nonsense "I`ve-written-a-great-chorus- and-you`re-going-to-get-it" approach is adopted with `To an Air- Hostess` (Mantelpieces 1973.) And why not invite the gang from the pub to come round and join in at the end? "I tried to give her a copy of my record --" Clifford sings, giving us a rare glimpse of the young pop star at large. (Nice pick-up line. I also tried it -- and it didn`t work for me either!) `Screen Test` from the same album is also notable for its memorable chorus and is very much of the Seventies. The use of cliché is allowed if accompanied by an otherwise intelligent lyric -- and I`ll be damned! Here`s another fine chorus: `I`m not waving -- I`m drowning!`

Although I always enjoy listening to Clifford`s commercial tracks, I am more attracted to those songs that go deeper, where his lyrics touch you inside -- those songs where the sound of his unique, lilting voice can make your heart ache.

We could begin by looking at `For Debbie and her friends` (Mantelpieces 1973) which, in the wrong hands would certainly be mawkish and probably mundane. There is a lightness of touch about this track that is perfect for its subject matter, from the simple, unpretentious guitar accompaniment to Clifford`s conversational, unadorned vocal. We are allowed in to this private world to over-hear that loving line: "Tell me what it`s like in your wheelchair..."

It is fitting that when Clifford achieved chart success it was with a song in which he made no concessions to commercial pressures. `Gaye` (Home Thoughts 1973) is faultless, its melody evolving, flowing effortlessly on a stylish string arrangement. Clifford`s vocal is both warm yet fragile and the lyrics are pure CTW: "You`re the tray of nice things -- I upset it yesterday." Its quality must have stood head and shoulders above the dross of the day.

`Gaye` fits into the category of Clifford`s songs that I would call `classics.` These are songs that will be played for decades to come. Perhaps for longer than that --

Clifford has said of `Wherewithal` (Home Thoughts 1973) that he wrote it around his attraction to the title word. I understand this perfectly. Inspiration for songs hits you at the strangest moments, often at night in that nether world prior to sleep. Words are quickly scratched on magazine covers or on the back of your hand -- usually to be discarded or scrubbed off the following morning when the cold light of dawn reveals them to be nothing but midnight ramblings. Yes, the muse can strike after you`ve heard a word or phrase or after you`ve seen a photograph or seen someone`s face through a crowd. A walk with my dog across Wiltshire`s majestic hills often finds me sans pen and paper to note lines that come floating through my head at high altitude. Recently I drove my daughter and her friend home from the fair. They chatted excitedly about their evening and mentioned the Hall of Mirrors. Instantly I drifted into a creative coma and by the time we reached home had written the first two verses of a song that now bears that title.

In `Wherewithal` Clifford`s tripping melody allows him to show-case his trick of almost breaking into a falsetto: "Wish I had the wherewithal, ah -- ah -- " It is as distinctive as Buddy Holly`s famous Texmex hiccup. One of Clifford`s most accomplished songs is `Contrary` (Both of Us 1982) which always leaves me swooning, eyes closed, swept along on a delicious melody. Again, the title word is quaint, but the resulting song timeless. As a lyricist I am, of course, often critical of a song`s words. Clifford rarely fails us in this area, indeed, there are lines that assume a high profile in many of his songs. In `Contrary` he liberally sprinkles antiquated words such as lackaday like gold-dust over the masterpiece. I adore the line " -- Lonely --" followed by the merest hint of a heartbeat pause and then " -- You are forever -- I`ll come crashing down." Listen and weep all who toil in vain for perfection.

All wars are tragedies. All wars are crimes. But there is something particularly poignant about the fate of a whole generation of young men who were sent to France to die as cannon fodder in the Great War (as it was known before we started counting.) Clifford found himself in France, walking alone across a beautiful, but haunted, landscape. He is homesick. He starts writing a song. Probably phrases come to him like a stranger whispering close to his ear -- he rearranges words, struggles to make sense of his feelings of loneliness. But then he stops -- suddenly guilty. How dare he feel lonely in these fields of lost souls? He can return home to those who love him. But here -- ? All flesh is grass. We share the moment in `A Day to Myself` (Escalator 1975.)

The technical side of making music has changed almost beyond recognition in the past decade or so. When I was recording in the mid-Sixties if we wanted strings on a track we had to hire four or five old gaffers to come to the studio. There they`d sit, smoking and coughing, rattling their newspapers and picking their winners until the red light came on. They would then play their parts, note-perfect and then bugger off for a tea break. The resulting tapes could be editied up to a point, but this involved actually physically removing and replacing sections of tape. An horrendous responsibility for the brave man with the razor blade. Record company recording studios were vast hangar-like rooms, bereft of atmosphere. We used to bring in candles and jossticks to set the appropriate mood for our fledgling psychedelia. Only to be reprimanded by the sergeant-major safety officer: "Not in `ere, laddie. Snuff it hout!"

We now have tapeless studios where sounds are `recorded` digitally on to computer hard discs. Recordings can be chopped to pieces and put back together again before you can say, "Steam radio." The sounds used are actually data bytes, numbers generated by black boxes of silicone chips and printed circuits linked to keyboards that can, literally, produce any sound on earth via sampling technology. In my own home studio I now have an orchestra at my fingertips -- and I never have to ask them if they want two sugars and a digestive!

Evidence of these advances can be heard on Clifford`s 1986 album, `Sometime Next Year.` "When I was young I got married `cause we needed a pram -- " Clifford states prosaically in the opening lines of a wonderful song, `Prams.` Notice immediately the more complex arrangement of instruments: there are synthesisers in here somewhere. The sound quality is crystal clear -- and so much happening even far back in the mix: high saxophones wailing away in a seemingly deranged manner, but then we get handclaps and a pleasing bass and drum rhythm through the chorus. But the minor chord changes of the verses tell us this is not simply a foot-tapper. The production on this track is noticeably different. Clifford`s vocal sits, quite correctly for this instrumentation, inside the mix, but because of this some of the words are unusually difficult to make out. This is also true of `Lost in the flow of your love,` a high-tec tapestry of sound, rich and sophisticated, a perfect frame for an excellent song. A loose-limbed fretless bass snakes along beneath glassy, classy guitars and over it all an assured vocal. Ghostly synthesizers and the mad saxman complete the picture.

(Incidentally, if you`re thinking of drumming up a charge of sycophancy, forget it. One thing I have learnt in life is that negativity breeds negativity. Of course there are a few tracks of Clifford`s that don`t have the same appeal as those mentioned here. I prefer to accentuate the positive. To continue -- )

I occasionally buy the Record Collector magazine to check on the current prices of my old vinyl records. In the early Eighties some fool decided that as they were so rare -- because the original sales were limited, to put it politely -- they must be worth a lot of money and paid 200 Big Ones for an elderly copy of our first album. In the manner of such things, word spread like proverbial hot cakes -- or should that be wild fire? -- and suddenly people were talking about my band just because we had become collectable. An enterprising company leased the rights for our first two Fontana albums and reissued them. Remarkably this increased the value of the originals; there were more articles on the band and another two albums were released. So -- I check out the prices occasionally. Oh, come on -- you must allow an old man his indulgences!

The point of this rambling? I saw an ad in the magazine: Clifford T.Ward`s new album, `Laugh it off.` I couldn`t believe it. I`d heard nothing apart from a surreal interview on the radio some years earlier between Gloria Hunniford and an extremely tongue-tied Clifford. But then I read on and realised why we hadn`t heard of this man for so long. I ordered the album knowing it was a collection of out-takes, unreleased tracks and demos. My expectations were not high.

I now believe `Laugh it off` is Clifford`s finest album. Here are the many varied styles and qualities of his music: from the commercial pop and ballad to the rich, orchestral pieces, from the pure Clifford T.Ward of flowing melody and honest lyrics to moments of unsurpassed brilliance.

There are songs here that could only have come from the pen of Clifford T.Ward. Take for example the social comment of `Unmarried Mother;` the love song in an unexpected setting, `Marble Arch;` the optimism of `Sunshine Girl;` and the mellifluous `That`s the way our love goes.` Equally as pleasing is `Dancer` with its slide- guitar, saxophone and hopalong triangle accompaniment and a lyric that is as surprisingly uncomplicated as, say, the Beatles` early material, such as `Love me do.`

A stately beauty is evidenced in `April` with melancholic chord changes and the careful use of metaphor. Again, a song so skilfully constructed that it might appear initially to be simple and straight-forward, but when studied reveals the master strokes of the craftsman.

There are surprises here: a Christmas song, `Home,` its longing so genuine you can almost feel the warmth from the log fire; `Marron`s Glance,` a somewhat bitter reply to a critic of Clifford`s work, but treated to an impeccable string arrangement; and what`s this? I can`t believe it! A CTW rap! `User Friendly` shocks all of us who thought we knew the boundaries of Clifford`s talents. But this track is remarkably satisfying. Over a repetitive rhythmic riff Clifford speaks his lines, telling us the humorous story of a daughter`s cocky boyfriend -- "He`s got a drop on!" If this is a true story it is a classic clash of protective father and young, upstart suitor. A shock to the system upon first hearing it, this track can stand repeated plays and still sound fresh and original.

As I mentioned earlier, I adore Clifford`s way of approaching a falsetto, only to pull back at the last second, producing an exhilarating flight over the hump-backed bridge of the melody. `I don`t understand your logic,` featuring this characteristic vocal ability, is sublime, with dark, swirling depths drawing us down into the writer`s confusion: "Do you really care -- ?"

Clifford`s wife, Pat, is clearly vital to his well-being and, reading between the lines of many songs and the few interviews I have seen, contributes to his strength. But in the title song of this album -- as we can see from the sleeve notes -- she also occasionally needs support and understanding. `Laugh it off` is a fine track, with an unusual tempo, ironic lyrics and a truly regal arrangement: a grand trumpet voluntary heralding better days to come --

After a few hundred of the damn things I now find I am lost for words to explain why I love `Jackdaw.` Accompanied by an attractive percussion, moving fretless bass and crystalline bells, Clifford`s lyric tells us about the outcast of the feathered fraternity. But he associates with this handsome character: "If I were a born-again jackdaw -- " There are wonderful lines here: "There might be a few rogue jackdaws," -- you can picture them swaggering through the trees in their studded leather jackets -- "But they get their come-uppance." But, of course, the jackdaw is also wise and caring -- and being an animal-lover and vegetarian I`m happy to anthropomorphize if you are. Three minutes and thirty-five seconds of sheer joy.

If, as I have suggested, we place on Clifford`s fair head a crown bearing the legend: `Britain`s finest singer-songwriter,` we first need some gold. We have it in `Up in the world.` (No More Rock `n Roll)

Clifford has acknowledged the debt he owes to his orchestral arranger, Richard Hewson. Certainly the man`s contribution to Clifford`s body of work is extensive. If he is responsible for the arrangement on `Up in the world` someone should buy him a drink. Lyrically this is a bitter song, but beautiful nonetheless. It is to Clifford`s credit that those who have covered his songs are amongst the world`s most well- respected artists, such as Justin Hayward, Judy Collins and Art Garfunkel. In his own version of this song, Garfunkel makes it sound as if it were written especially for him so well does it suit his vocal style: this is the sound of gold.

But a crown needs diamonds. Diamonds are priceless, flawless and will last for all time. We have three.

The irony of its title is not lost on us: `The Best is Yet to Come.` I don`t even have a copy of this track in my collection, but I can hear it now, Clifford`s voice at its best, no clever, enhancing effects, just one man and his exquisite song: "Where did we go wrong -- ?" he asks plaintively.

If you get it right, the first line of a song can be as haunting as any expertly engineered chorus. Can you imagine anyone other than Clifford T.Ward having written the line: "I could be a millionaire if I had the money --"? `Mr.Tambourine Man` could only have been written by Bob Dylan. `Imagine` could only have been written by John Lennon. `Chelsea Hotel` could only have been written by Leonard Cohen. `Home Thoughts` could only have been written by Clifford T.Ward.

Few vocalists would risk exposing their voice over what is at first such a sparse arrangement, the rain-like notes of a piano. Again Clifford`s voice is close, within the listener`s personal space, conversational, but private and pensive. Few lyricists are able to construct a song in this way, many unable to escape the confining rhyming format. As the song develops, the arrangement becomes more textured and Clifford`s vocal is subtly treated with a touch of reverb and we are suddenly in a more open landscape. But the accurate spoken-letter style continues and here we have that informal, free-form section: "I`ve been reading Browning, Keats and William Wordsworth, they all seem to be saying the same thing for me. I like the words they use and I like the way they use them. You know, `Home thoughts from abroad` is such a beautiful poem." Quite remarkable. As a lyricist myself I am in awe of such perfection. And: "Oh -- and by the way -- how`s your broken heart --?" I am wary of the word genius as it has been devalued by over-use -- but this is English songwriting at its best.

And finally -- to return to `Laugh it off` -- technically this track is flawed. There is no arrangement to speak of. The instrumentation is basic in the extreme. But the vocal performance is searing in its intensity. From the album`s sleeve notes we know the circumstances surrounding its writing, but nothing prepares us for `Water.` This is the sound of the heart. I listen, hardly daring to breathe as Clifford sings: "How can I forget? How can you forget?" And then: "There`s a suffering you don`t wish for -- and it`s all water -- " and there is a yearning in this voice we know so well. This is a rare and precious song. I feel privileged to have heard it.

I return to my original point: How can the success or value of music be measured by the number of records sold? In the art world the exact opposite applies: there is only one of each masterpiece. Yes, I would like more people to be aware of Clifford T.Ward`s music, but for the moment I am happy to be among the few who recognise his importance.

Clifford and I once recorded in the same studio, `Sound Techniques` in Chelsea, using the same engineer, tubby Jerry Boys, and had songs signed to the same publisher, Intersong -- but we missed each-other by a couple of years.

Clifford has said: "The future`s in you face." Yes -- and the past is in your heart.

Peter Daltrey, Wiltshire 1998



Clifford T.Ward and Peter Daltrey, October 1998


Now read Peter`s review of Clifford`s album, `Both of us.`



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