The Piccadilly Trot

"No doubt you've heard about the Turkey Trot. Some say it's rot. Some say it's not. Well, I've got another one that speaks a lot. And it doesn't come from Yankee land. If you see a Johnny in the latest style ..." sings Marie Lloyd at the start of her number about The Piccadilly Trot. So, long before Londoners were doing The Lambeth Walk, they were parading around Piccadilly according to this delightful number by the Queen of the Music Halls and possibly a great aunt a few times removed. The song itself, from that period just before WW1, refers to the ragtime style which was very much in vogue (even Erik Satie had a ragtime inspired piece called Le Piccadilly). The little digs at America was a bit of a feature of music hall numbers, and the magnificent Marie was certainly fiercely loyal. Loyal to her profession by backing the 1907 Music Hall strike. And loyal to her own London in her performances, in songs such as A Coster Girl In Paris where she suggests: "And if they'd only shift the 'Ackney Road and plant it over there, I'd like to live in Paris all the time ..."

A13

"I love your oil refineries, motor factors, motor works, sewage plants, factory farming, theme pubs, launderettes, transport caffs, haulage firms, betting shops. People who look so dowd. Swaggering aggressive young men who hate themselves. A carbon copy of dad who really passed it on. And their sisters. Bleached blonde. Already typecast in the role of victim. And it's perfect ..." Jah Wobble's A13 is an astonishing achievement. It captures, perhaps more than any other inclusion here, exactly that strange mix of disgust and affection that drives this project. I would argue that only someone born and raised in the Greater London area, of it but necessarily part of it, could have written what is a remarkable piece of poetry. "O land of my father. Ancient warrior Celtic race. How are your tomatoes doing?" I am particularly grateful to Daniel for suggesting it be included here. I like the idea of the A13 as symbol of the east London/Essex heartlands it runs right through. And the detail is spot-on and frighteningly apt. I haven't (yet) read his memoirs but clips of an old interview from 1984 capture something of what's behind the song. Much of Wobble's solo work is magnificent, but it is impossible to ignore the impact of Public Image Limited and what were often London songs in their way ...

The Battle of Epping Forest

"There's Willy Wright and his boys, one helluva noise. That's Billy's boys, with fully-fashioned mugs. That's Little John's thugs, the Barking slugs, super smug. For today is the day they sort it out, sort it out. Yes, these Christian soldiers fight to protect the poor. East End heroes got to score in the Battle of Epping Forest ..." sings Peter Gabriel during Genesis' epic The Battle of Epping Forest. Well sings is perhaps a little weak a description because Peter did so much more than that. The LP this comes from, Selling England By The Pound, is a bit of a guilty pleasure. Ordinarily the mention of Genesis would make me run for the hills. And while Phil Collins may be a decent cove, a big fan of The Action and David Ackles and all that, the music's not my cup of tea. Well, certainly not after Peter skedaddled. This track though is wonderful, and a great piece of musical drama telling the (true) tale of various East End gangs getting together on the outskirts of east London to, shall we say, discuss territorial rights. From the same LP comes the irresistible I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe) ...

Friday Hill ... again

"I went for a walk over Friday Hill, and I looked down on Chingford spread below. It was hard for me ..." When Bulldog Breed sing about Friday Hill there is no doubt they're referring to the one out Chingford way. It's a track from their much loved cult UK psychedelic set Made In England, which has also been reissued by Grapefruit and is an essential purchase. Same label salvages two songs about Friday Hill? So there must have been something in the air up around Pimp Hall at the end of the '60s. There are moments in the song Friday Hill that it seems strangely reminiscent of the Television Personalities to whom we owe so much for the odd paths they led us down exploring the undergrowth of '60s pop culture ...

Friday Hill

"Friday Hill so fine. Reaching out beyond my eyes. Friday Hill we can climb ..." I can't say for certain whether Edwards Hand's Friday Hill was inspired by a spot in the Chingford area of London, but it seems reasonable to make the assumption there's a connection. The song appears on the (Rod) Edwards (Roger) Hand LP recorded in 1969, and now given a new lease of life by Grapefruit Records, part of the Cherry Red empire. The LP starts with Banjo Pier, which suggests Cornwall. But there is a London song, Characters Number One, which is about life down the Charing Cross Road. So, yeah, why not Friday Hill as well? After all before they were Edwards Hand the pair played as Picadilly Line. Anyway, Edwards Hand is a fantastic record, with a stellar line-up of session musicians, including Danny Thompson, John Cameron, Alan Parker, Clem Cattini, and Alan Hawkshaw. They even had George Martin at the controls. Now Edwards Hand, of course, was not the only London outfit George was involved with ...

Dagenham Dave

"I guess he lost control. And welcomed in the night. It was too much for him. What were his thoughts that night? The River Thames is cold. It keeps on flowing on. But it left Dave alone ..." The Stranglers' Dagenham Dave is a pretty tragic tale., which is odd as from the song title you might expect an Ian Dury sketch. And we won't mention Morrissey. Dave was the group's number one fan from early on, even before The Finchley Boys started following them. He sounded like quite a character. He'd work labouring, scaffolding, or whatever, making plenty of money, but he'd be the most well-read person around. He followed The Stranglers, but was a big jazz and classical buff. He was a committed socialist, by all accounts, who liked a good scrap. He had his problems though, and shortly after the recording sessions for The Stranglers' first LP in February 1977 he commited suicide by jumping off Tower Bridge. Ironically the name Dagenham Dave is slightly misleading. He was from Manchester originally, and the nickname was given to him after a stint working at the big Ford's factory in Dagenham. Dave didn't live to see group he loved so much on Top Of The Pops ...

Pretty Little Villa Down At Barking

"We ain't a living where we used to live afore we moved away from the little wooden 'ouse in Peckham Rye ..." states Gus Elen at the start of his 1911 number Pretty Little Villa Down At Barking. In the true tradition of the English working classes Gus has moved further out and he's inviting his old pals to come and see the new place and hear the sparrows sing. This gradual migration was the subject of Michael Collins' controversial book The Likes of Us. Gus Elen is certainly peerless when it comes to playing the caustic coster. In his much loved number If It Wasn't For The 'Ouses In Between he sings the famous lines about "Oh! it really is a wery pretty garden. And Chingford to the Eastward could be seen. Wiv a ladder and some glasses you could see to 'Ackney Marshes. If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between ..." The more you explore the work of Gus Elen the more rewarding it is. And certainly the noble Savages and holy Greils missed a trick in failing to finger 'im as one of Rotten's dynasty. It's a great big shame there's not earlier film of Gus in his prime ...

Ilford Town Hall

"I'm sending you this little gift of Ilford Town Hall to wear 'round your neck 'til I return. It isn't very much. Just a homely touch to remind you that the flame of love will always burn. The Albert Memorial doesn't match your eyes and West Ham Baths I know you'd spurn ..." Marty Feldman's Ilford Town Hall continues the theme of wearing London buildings as jewelery. The gem comes from Marty's 1969 LP I Feel A Song Going Off, and it's one of a series of London songs on the record. Once again I am grateful to Paul Cowdell for pointing us in the direction of miniature masterpieces such as Kensington High Street. The brevity of the tracks on this LP will appeal enormously to fans of Wire's Pink Flag. Marty was a big jazz fan from the Jewish East End. You can tell somehow ...

First Transmission

"I'm the mirror man. So don't ask who is it. London is my city. Jamaica's my country. Africa's my history. It ain't no mystery. How I came to be Earthling-free. Sitting in Ilford watching TV ..." Released right in the middle of one of the greatest periods of pop music Earthling's Radar LP seems to be quintessentially part of the Bristol blues and roots thing, complete with Portishead connections. But then you catch the torrent of words Mau uses on the opening track, First Transmission, and you realise he's talking about being from London, and watching TV back at home in Ilford. He mentions pretty much everything else too, from the Only Ones to Juliette Binoche, like Bob Dylan's stream of consciousness poetry might have been like if he'd grown up listening to the Native Tongues. It's a fantastic record, but then any outfit that samples Spizz AND Curtis is going to be great. It's not even as though First Transmission is the only song on there that mentions Ilford ...

Beckton Dumps

"Then I give my lucky dog a stroke. Well he just gives me a wink. And I know what that mean now. Well it mean that I need to put on his lead if I don't want a mess on my cheap pan. That's cool. 'Cause I know I can trust him to grab the fuzz if they bust in. Get him boy!" sings Steve Marriott from deep in the Essex countryside on Humble Pie's Beckton Dumps before he escapes in a Proustian way back to the area of east London in which he grew up. The track comes from the LP Eat It which has some great tracks on, and is made all the finer for the presence of The Blackberries, as Stevie aimed for a real soul revue vibe. What transports Steve back to Beckton, the old gas works and the piles of waste dumped there, which locals knew as The Alps, is not made clear, but certain Small Faces songs sometimes have the power to transport me back to my own youth and it's then you realise how great they were ...

All Our Yesterdays

"And now for your delight the darling of Wapping Wharf Launderette ... Ronald 'Leafy' Lane!" Our comrade William recently sent a link for a piece of film he'd recorded of Ian McLagan speaking about his old soulmate Ronnie Lane. In it he refers specifically to two London songs Ronnie had written. One was the Small Faces' Itchycoo Park, which is one of those numbers so familiar you almost forget how good it is. Ian explains that the Park his old bandmates would have known as kids was not some ornate lovingly landscaped green space, as featured in the promo film (was that Chiswick House?). Instead it (Little Ilford Park or wherever) would have been a bit of a wreck, an overgrown bombsite, covered in nettles and rosehips (hence the itchycoo part), but it would have been their playground, where they got their education. The other song was Debris, from The Faces' era. It's such a beautiful song, and it becomes more poignant when you realise it's about Ronnie's father. I believe the market in the song is Club Row, the poor relation of Petticoat and Brick Lanes, once known for its animal trade. Ronnie's father, apparently, would go down there every Sunday morning to rummage through the junk on sale. Naturally the young Ronnie couldn't wait to break away, but later there is a sense of loss, an unexpected feeling that, yeah, that old routine is something you kind of miss ...

Limehouse Blues

"Oh, Limehouse kid. Oh, oh, Limehouse kid. Goin' the way that the rest of them did. Poor broken blossom. And nobody's child. Carefree and happy. You're just kind of wild ..." A lot of people have sung Limehouse Blues over the years but some correspondents from West Ham strongly suggested that the Mills Brothers' version of the Douglas Furber/Philip Braham number be the one featured here. I had been tempted to go for Nancy Sinatra's, but the guys had a point. The song was originally performed by Gertrude Lawrence and Jack Buchanan in the revue A to Z in 1921. In 1934 the Mills Brothers recorded their immaculate version, tapping into the Limehouse chinatown stereotype propogated by the stories of Fu Manchu, Sherlock Holmes, and Dickens. The Mills Brothers spent quite a bit of time in London in the '30s and this was far from the only song they recorded related to the Capital. Their London Rhythm springs to mind. And who needs to seek solace in an opium den when the Mills Brothers can soothe the savage tumult ...

From The City To The Isle Of Dogs

"Hey young executive. You've moved to the island. With your shady deals and your wheeling and a dealing. Get a cheap thrill from someone's home that you are stealing. Low life, you'd better close your eyes. 'Cos this is no life ..." From The City To The Isle Of Dogs is another of the late great Frank Tovey's songs about London life. This one captures the moment when the old Docklands was being regenerated, and the young professionals were moving into the area creating a striking polarisation among the population. I don't think the 'traditional' working class population has ever rid itself of that feeling of resentment, resignation and rejection. Part of the appeal of new property in the old Docklands area was its proximity to Canary Wharf, the new financial centre, which is nicely dismissed in the Bitter Springs' single My Life As A Dog In A Pigsty. The Springs' Simon Rivers carries on the sardonic storytelling tradition Frank Tovey embodied so well. Oh and it wasn't the first song Frank wrote that mentioned the Isle Of Dogs. Back in 1982 when he was still performing as Fad Gadget the title track of his Under The Flag LP started with a reference to the island. That LP I believe was made with his newborn son in mind amid Frank's fears for the world he was bringing him into.

Ratcliffe Highway

"As I was a-walking down London. From Wapping to Ratcliffe Highway. I chanced to pop into a gin-shop. To spend a long night and a day. A young doxy came rolling up to me. And asked if I'd money to sport. For a bottle of wine changed a guinea. And she quickly replied: 'That's the sort'..." sings an unaccompanied Jim O'Connor on the traditional number Ratcliffe Highway from The Critics Group's anthology of London songs, Sweet Thames Flow Softly, which was overseen by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger in 1967. The song is a cautionary tale about being fleeced while out and about on the stretch of road which, as the excellent Victorian London site details, was notorious for its vice and violence, as a haunt of sailors and what were known as 'unbonneted ladies'. It's still there, though now known as The Highway, running from The City out to Limehouse, and still trying to shake off the notoriety of the Ratcliffe Highway Murders which in turn inspired Peter Ackroyd's great novel Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem. The naughty/nautical nature of Ratcliffe Highway also pops up in other songs, including The Deserter from Fairport Convention's Liege and Lief LP. The traditional song Ratcliffe Highway has been performed by many people, though The Dubliners' live 1964 version provides a fascinating contrast to The Critics Group's ...

Working Class Millionaire

"I don't wanna be a clerk, a conductor, or a spark. Life's too short for working who knows where. So I'll just sit back and dream, forget the 'ouses inbetween, and be a working class millionaire ..." sings Richard Digance during his wonderful song Working Class Millionaire. It dates from his time recording for Transatlantic, and I'm willing to bet the overlap between the folk revival and music hall wasn't that great at the time. But Richard smartly marries the two. He references Gus Elen, taps into familiar music hall themes about being suspicious of work and fond of making a bit of money some other way. The song has some brilliant lines about having a mansion down in Bow or a palace down at the Royal Albert Dock, having lions either side of the gateway to the drive, and in the marble halls goalposts painted on the walls and other things the 'Ampstead crowd detest. In the one of the most famous of London songs Harry Champion inherits a watch and chain which he hopes will make him rich. It doesn't. And his friends mock him, offering to buy up Any Old Iron. Rather nicely when the Trotters do become working class millionaires it is with a watch and chain they thought was worthless ...

Disgusted E7

"These are the streets where nothing grows. There's easy pickings for the ones who know ..." Students of songs relating to London postcodes will probably point to The Wolfhounds' second session for John Peel's show on 26 May 1987 which featured a couple of relevant numbers. One was Disgusted E7, which they also released as a b-side. I always liked this as a title, as it makes me think of the type of folks that write to the local newspaper to rant about some subject or other. At the time the epithet Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells was supposed to sum up a certain sort of conservative grouch. By twisting it Callahan and the Wolfhounds relocated the malcontent to Upton Park or Forest Gate, perhaps as an Alf Garnett type figure. But then again when it came to expressing disgust at the world around us there was really no one better than Callahan. The other postcode related number from that Peel session was Boy Racers RM1, which referenced the group's own manor in Romford. It's an interesting thing about the Wolfhounds and London songs. There is always a sense of London in their songs, and they tended not to get explicit or specific even when the title directly referred to the Capital, like Ex-Cable Street. I liked that obliqueness, because there's more than one way to attack your targets ...

One Wish

"I grew up in the H town. Living life on the blocks. From then that's when I became unorthodox. Used to tie knots in my socks. Fill them with rocks. And I'd swing your jaw if you gave bad looks. Now I haven't changed. Still slightly deranged. Still slightly outraged. And I feel insane. Like the way I could take so much pain ..." On her hit single One Wish Shystie raps about growing up in E5, on the east side of London, specifically Hackney/Clapton. She was part of the grime scene, and seemed set for sustained success. But the UK music industry really doesn't have a clue how to develop the 'careers' of female MCs. Its record is lamentable when it comes to nurturing the wealth of talent on its doorstep. So Shystie has more recently had more success as an actress, ironically in the role of a female MC struggling to make it against all the odds in Dubplate Drama. She did release a great LP back in 2004, the appropriately titled Diamond In The Dirt, and hopefully another will enable her to make up for lost time. In the meantime ...

Burlington Bertie from Bow

"I dress up in fashion. And when I am feeling depressed I shave from my cuff all the whiskers and fluff, stick my hat on and toddle up West. I'm Burlington Bertie. I rise at ten thirty. Then saunter along like a toff. I walk down The Strand with my gloves on my hand. Then I walk down again with them off. I'm all airs and graces, correct easy paces. Without food so long I've forgot where my face is. I'm Bert, Bert, I haven't a shirt ..." Of course there's nothing new under the sun. And long before grime, when the music hall was all the rage, London locations were frequently used in songs. As in I'm so-and-so from wherever. Ella Shields singing Burlington Bertie from Bow is a perfect example. The number was written by her husband William Hargreaves in 1915, and is a bit of a send-up of an earlier Bertie number. In Ella's star turn Bertie has fallen on hard times and is scraping by in Bow. But he's determined to keep up appearances. Down but not out, you might say. Ella was one of the most celebrated male impersonators of the music hall era, and in many ways the fact she was American just adds another lovely twist to the ironies inherent in her performances. Colin MacInnes writes in praise of her in Sweet Saturday Night, mentioning in passing that "she was a bit of an intellectual, and liked analysing her art". There is a lovely clip of her, late on in her career, performing the song Aveline. There is even surviving film of her doing a turn as Burlington Bertie from Bow ...

Bow E3

"Now if you're from Uptown, Brooklyn-bound, The Bronx, Queens, or Long Island Sound. Even other states come right and exact ..." From a hell of a distance away those lines of Rakim's have long held a certain enchantment. And I suspect that's the case too with all the grime tracks that refer to specific parts of London. Does that seem glamorous and mysterious to a listener thousands of miles away? When Wiley is rapping about representing Bow E3 what do people think it's all about when they're from outside the Capital? At least Rakim went on to conclude: "It's ain't where you're from, it's where you're at". For others though where you're from says a lot about where you'll be at. Wiley is I guess the crown prince of grime, and often an inventive and prolific producer. Plenty of his tracks refer explicitly to London, including Living In London, a collaboration with old colleague Tinchy Stryder. Perhaps best of all though is Slippin' which has some nice references to scavenging in Roman Road and so on ...

Bethnal Green

"I'm usually hanging out in Bow. Hardly down Bethnal Green. But I think there's summat you should know when I strolls down Bethnal Green. Faces have changed so much and there's places that I ain't been ..." I suspect this project could be overwhelmed by contributions relating to London from the grime scene. Londoners have always had this innate ability to find schisms and divisions where there doesn't need to be any. Race, religion, the river, footwear, haircuts, football colours, and postcodes. The grime scene in particular plays on the post code game, and there are numerous tracks where rappers are talking up their particular locality. A lot of the music comes from the east of London, and in particular the Bow area. Ruff Sqwad is one collective, among whose ranks Tinchy Stryder has passed, which has made great play about coming from Bow E3 on tracks like Anna. Sqwad members Slix and Dirty Danger have also shown some real style in changing direction and location by talking up neighbouring Bethnal Green ... featuring some fantastic whistling too.