By The Landlord and others …
Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
The opening lines of poem read today at the funeral of George Boyland, much loved husband to Linda, a father, grandfather, brother and uncle in a large family – cultured, witty, Liverpudlian, musician, and fabulous storyteller. George, who sadly left us on 15th May, was a big and generous character in every way. In his funeral notice, his niece Faye perfectly describes him as:
“Handsome, witty, opinionated – passionate about all the things he loved. Treating me as an individual, not just his little niece. My cool Uncle George finely tuned my musical taste. He turned me onto all the best music, from past to present. Always educating me, delivering albums of the moment, or curated music mixes. A cultural messenger, if something was great, we had to hear it.”
Sounds familiar? Perhaps then that’s a very appropriate and accurate way to start this tribute from Song Bar – our own celebration of the life of George, stalwart and regular at this establishment, and also in previous times at the Guardian website under the monikers webcore and sonofwebcore – a brilliantly fun, warm and giving man, ever ready to share fabulous anecdotes and music related to hundreds of subjects. Here then are several notes of appreciation by other Song Bar regulars, as well as playlist of some of his favourite songs.
I didn’t know George as well as some of the regulars here, and while we exchanged hundreds of emails about music and of course his contributions to this site, in fact I only met him once in person in 2016 at a big social get together in London while I was still editing and writing music at the Guardian website. I instantly recognised him by his strapping size, smart suit and big grin. He had charisma and presence.
We shared some amusing stories, my favourite of his at that time being a mischievous and painfully amusing one about his encounter with a visually impaired man at a park bench in Liverpool when both men had their dogs along with them. The man had been proudly explaining to George how well his highly trained guide dog always behaved, which was no doubt usually the case. But on this occasion the male dog in question suddenly became unusually aroused by the presence of George’s beautiful female husky. Not wanting to disappoint the blind man about his perfect canine companion, picture then the scene – George trying to continue polite and pleasant conversation, while all the while busily trying to yank the two large dogs apart, and eventually succeeding, leaving the seated stranger blissfully unaware of the sexually excitable but just about not-quite-mounting furry frenzy before him.
It’s those vividly amusing narratives at which George excelled. As well as posting and writing about music, he wrote many posts in comments about his day, his encounters in the city of Liverpool with all sorts of people good and bad, particularly as a regular and locally famous busker at Liverpool’s Royal Albert Docks at Pier Head, entertaining passersby with his vast repertoire. George was a handy boxer in his youth, had worked as a railwayman, and could handle himself, and certainly knew a few hard nuts. But above all he had charm and diplomacy in abundance - the epitome of the iron fist in a velvet glove.
With thanks to his long-term friend and regular contributor on this site, Maki, as well as several others - including Shiv Sidecar, TatankaYotanka, Chris 7572, Tincanman, Severin, Magicman, Suzi, Nicko, EnglishOutlaw, and Marco den Ouden (who posted a brief tribute the week George died with added songs within his own playlists) for helping contribute, here let’s try to give a flavour of the great man.
Born in 1953 in a large family, George was a teenager in the 1960s, saw and met Beatles, and just about every other famous person on the Merseyside music scene in that time, and among his biggest joys was sharing these experiences. In reply to a post in connection to songs about spinning, one about soliciting opinions from your children about their music taste, George gave a measured response with a wonderful depiction of his family and pride at their various talents:
I’m way too old for that. I'm not decrepit or anything, I make money playing music every day, but it's great to include your children in your pastimes and to give them the choice. They'll have more respect for you in the long run (and happy memories). My daughter has a degree in music, is a music teacher, sings in bands, gets sent around Europe as a session singer, writes songs. Son is a guitar virtuoso, great singer, plays in bands, though he prefers his regular job. My dad was a musician (and mother and grandmother). I sat at Dad's knee while he played Hank Williams songs on his guitar, and Leadbelly, Fats Domino, Ray Charles, Muddy Waters and more. Dad was a seaman in his youth, buying records in New York. When I heard Ray Charles on a jukebox I thought it was my dad. Then the 60s happened, first Motown, then Merseybeat, then The Stones and The Who and The Kinks, Small Faces etc. My schooldays. By the late 60s / early 70s it was Zappa and Beefheart then jazz fusion, then jazz, then old jazz was investigated, and the blues, right back to the earliest recordings. My daughter's thesis was on Sidney Bechet, proving her tutors and professors wrong by demonstrating that jazz was played in the UK before WWI.
I love to hear what youngsters are doing with the forms I grew up with. It's thrilling; sometimes I think I could do that and at others think 'No way'.
Grand-daughter plays guitar, sings and composes very well (though she's studying law). Grandson (16) fronts a band of older guys, lead guitar, vocals, songwriter. That may be over now because last week he started a degree course at LIPA (Liverpool Institute Of Performing Arts).
I tell you all this because your kids should hear the music you like, you never know where it leads, I certainly didn't. My daughter and her friends danced to Stevie, The Temps, Otis and Martha (their choices from my collection). Son was bowled over by Hendrix and Kevin Coyne. Yet they still loved their own pop era.
Very well done.
And here’s one about meeting the legendary Liverpool comedian Ken Dodd:
1964, school uniform, caned if you didn't wear your cap. City centre college, working class ragamuffin spruced up for school. 11 years old. Saw a tall-ish man in an expensive sheepskin jacket sprint across Lime Street and through the Empire Theatre stage door.
"That's Ken Dodd," thought I.
In my blue badged cap, school tie and blazer, short pants and long socks, I followed him through. There he was, the man himself, chatting to the commissionaire and the cloakroom attendant.
"Hello Mr Dodd," I said in my highest altar boy voice. "May I have your autograph, please?"
"Certainly, son," he said, reaching into an inside pocket and producing a publicity pic with a blank bit for signing. "What's your name?"
"George."
"Really? You look more like a Cecil or a Basil to me."
Collapse of all and sundry.
Doddy actually looked slightly embarrassed as comedians often do if they fear they've overstepped the mark, but I thought it was a great joke, cos I was pretending to be something I wasn’t.
George pretty much had a great anecdote for every subject. Here’s another encounter in relation to the topic of clouds:
Just thought of something. When I was 14 Roger McGough was a top poet and member of The Scaffold. I saved up my paper round money and went to see their Christmas show at Liverpool's Everyman Theatre. It was a fabulous revue, funny and musical.
Anyway, coupla years ago I read McGough's autobiography. He mentioned Fiddler's Ferry power station which my dad helped build and to which I delivered coal trains. Roger wrote that he was coming back to Liverpool on an ex-London train with his little daughter when spotting the power station's steaming cooling towers, she said. "Look Daddy, a cloud factory.”
Here’s more about music taste and a post referencing one of his regular favourites, the Jim Hendrix, that proves you can’t second guess another person’s musical preferences:
I gotta be honest with you, when it comes to music I'm as prejudiced as Johnny Rotten. There are some artists I just don't care for. Another thing I dislike is formulaic music; so if someone is just trying to sound punk they go out the window, same with prog, metal and more. Having said that, I really like some punk, prog and metal. I just can't stand fakes and bandwaggoners, that's all. Jimi Hendrix was asked what kind of music he preferred. His reply: "I like any music that's sincere." By that I interpreted that he didn't like music that was made for money rather than love. On his first UK tour Jimi would watch Engelbert Humperdinck every night from the wings. A roadie asked; "Jimi, why are you watching him? He's not one of us."
Jimi said, "He's a good singer, I might learn something."
Turns out those two guys became very good friends. You never can tell, eh?
So, to the blog. I knew this one would be a whopper when I suggested it to Matt. No surprises there. As a semi-retired geezer I have the time to keep up. So here's what irks me, there are so many brilliant nominations, so many sounds I really like, yet I can't A-List them all. I can't even B-List enough. I feel very guilty that so many people are going to be disappointed come Thursday. But I have to bite the bullet in the knowledge that dozens of likeable folks are going to be thinking, "Well fuck him."
Tell the truth, I think that, too. "Fuck me." . . . on a good day.
George was a music lover, but was also quick to criticise ignorance. Here’s another classic about rock T-shirts and his skill in switching songs depending on the audience:
Went to work very early this morning. The Tall Ships do is on next to my pitch. Screws up my weekend. But that's just me being selfish. I know that everyone else is really enjoying themselves, which is good.
It got chocka, which is counter-productive if people can't see me. But being early I made my money before it got too packed.
Here's a thing, people wearing rock star T-shirts, yet they don't seem to know who it is on the shirt. Some do. I see them coming and switch to an appropriate song. The Who on the shirt - I'll switch to Pinball Wizard. The Stones- Honky Tonk Women. Dylan - well, any. If I get it right it's usually worth between two quid and a fiver. I don't react to the Beatles. Partly because I got all Beatled out in 1970, and partly because hundreds of shirts pass me every day.
There was an exhibition about The Jam at the Cunard Building at the Pier Head last year, (or the year before, getting old). Before it opened Paul Weller walked past me. I immediately started playing All Mod Cons. Got a big grin and fuck all else.
Today I spotted a guy about 20 metres away with his lady. He was wearing a much-washed black T-shirt the front of which was a print of Frank Zappa's first solo album Hot Rats. I switched into Trouble Every Day from The Mothers Of Invention's first album, c. 1966. He didn't even look at me. He had no idea. It was just a fucking T-shirt. Like those Ramones ones they sell in Primark. Not even the staff know who The Ramones were never mind the customers.
Not everyone can be as knowledgeable as the punters of Song Bar, it seems, which is perhaps one reason why he was such a fine regular. But music wasn’t George’s only love. Aside from his wife Linda of course, and the rest of the family, he always enjoyed cooking up a big meal. Here’s a typical conversational post while he was in the middle of curating another topic:
Hello folks, how are you all this stormy day? No work for yours truly since Friday, had to dig into my savings, but what are savings for if not for days like these? Had a crown prince squash and shin beef casserole last night, later today roast chicken and the football. Savings is good if you can manage it, I know many can't. I'll be skint again tonight, but at least I have guitar and will travel, that's my moneymaker for tomorrow.
On the plus side, lack of work means I'm right on top of the blog. I've made some fantastic discoveries, so thank you for those. A mini A-List of gotta haves is coagulating in my brain even though the long list now stands at over 50.
So on the subject of food, here’s a witty lyrical creation he rustled up with reference to a number by a certain John Lennon, titled Working Class Foodie:
As soon as you're born they make you eat brawn,
When you want courgette jus poured over your Quorn
And the weight gain's so big you can't run at all.
A working class foodie is something to be.
A working class foodie is something to be.
You're unfit at home and you're obese at school
They hate you if you've never made gooseberry fool
Till you're so fucken lazy you forge notes for the pool
A working class foodie is something to be.
A working class foodie is something to be.
When your portions have trebled in twenty-odd years
It's then they expect you to give up the beer
And see out your days with a schooner of kir
A working class foodie is something to be.
A working class foodie is something to be.
They keep you doped with McDonalds, crisps and strong tea
And you'd like a fried Mars bar that's floating in ghee,
But I'm having Moules Marinieres made by me.
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you grill
If you want your trout cooked with lemon and dill
A working class foodie is something to be.
A working class foodie is something to be.
If you wanna be a foodie just go The Ivy.
Before we get to the musical choices and playlists, here then are a few George anecdotes and personal tributes by regular contributors. First up, here’s Maki:
My wife Conchita and I would always try to meet up with George whenever we flew back to Madrid from the north west. We’d meet in either Liverpool or Chester. We’d typically have a walk and then adjourn to a pub for a few pints before George left to go home for dinner with Linda. We didn’t meet up that many times, but it felt like a routine and we both looked forward to seeing him. I know George looked forward to it too because he was always upfront about his feelings and had no trouble letting you know when something made him happy or otherwise.
George absolutely loved Flamenco and really “got” it too. He loved talking to Conchita about it and was fascinated by her handclaps and other dancers’ flourishes. Her great grandmother was a gypsy dancer and it shows. One evening in a quiet pub in Chester she was showing him a percussive flourish and it came out a little louder than intended. Three older ladies who were having a coffee looked our way and smiled. “My friend Conchita is from Spain” George said. “She’s a flamenco dancer”. They joined us for a chat. George was like that - always looking to meet new people and never wanting anyone to feel left out.
Another time we were in Chester, and we met at the clock in Eastgate. It was mid-afternoon, a little early for the pub so George said, “Come with me. I want to show you something” and led us down Watergate towards the city walls. On the way down he pointed out landmarks and architectural quirks but didn’t let on where we were going. As we reached the walls we turned left into Nuns Road and enjoyed a free view of the 3:45 at Chester. George’s horse came in second. George wasn’t an “each-way” punter so there were no extra drinks that evening!
George and I were in regular touch by email and built up a real friendship over the years. I am already missing him dreadfully and know that I will for years to come.
Tatanka Yotanka writes:
I met George a few times in Liverpool and London, he was always wonderful company and on his home-turf very generous with his time, knowledge and stories. The last time we met was when I was at a Green Party conference in the arena next to Albert Docks. I hadn't told him that I was coming up and so during a morning break I wandered across to the swing bridge by the Maritime Museum and of course, there he was on his busking spot belting out his eclectic crowd pleasers and bantering with passersby. On a previous visit with my wife and son George gave us a personal guided tour of all the sites, my guitar playing son remains somewhat awestruck by George's famous Jimi Hendrix story. George was solid as a rock, principled, creative, generous, loving and loyal. He'll be missed.
Music and railways, sit back and just relax George.
Another long-time fellow contributor with whom George enjoyed sharing abundant musical knowledge is Shiv Sidecar, who has also offered many songs for a tribute playlist. Among other descriptions Shiv recalls first coming across this mystery figure online who among other things, …
“…. was writing a mystery novel. He was a Damon Runyon fan, and posted at least one perfect pastiche of his style. For no apparent reason he'd extemporise lengthy odd anecdotes - such as which member of The Move got the last chocolate biscuit after the gig. And he could spin out shaggy dog tales to unprecedented length - they had to be read from beginning to end to get the full impact. All of his posts demanded careful reading. His heart and his humanity showed throughout everything he wrote.
His musical tastes coincided quite closely with my own - although he was a few years older than me, we'd both been brought up with the music of the late 60s/early 70s counter-culture, with a later surge when punk and its successors broke loose. Both of us seemed to have shared the same sampler albums as primers on such record labels as Island, Liberty (Beefheart!) and Harvest. But webcore stretched out deep, into blues, soul, reggae, folk, 50s rock etc etc. - his knowledge was encyclopedic. I miss him already, and the Song Bar will be a very different place without him. May the road rise with you, George.
As a relatively more recent co-contributor to Song Bar (although already here for several years) EnglishOutlaw adds perspective on George’s dependability, his generosity with time, honesty and transparency:
He was one of those contributors who was always there, often stepping into the breach at the last minute to fill in when needed. He was what games like ours always need, a dependable player (or referee) who never begged off or let us down. Barring a few periods of technical troubles, he always made the effort - under whichever alias he had access to.
Of course it didn't take many interactions for the depth of his personality to shine through. He wasn't merely present, he was by turns affable, warm and wry. One of life's natural story-tellers, he intrinsically knew how to maximise the payoff to one of his tales. Looking at his musical taste, it shouldn't be surprising. His gravitation to raconteurs like Dylan often struck me as him being drawn to his kind. A long comment from George was always something to look forward to - you knew you would get a tale, and possibly a tasty recipe to go along with it.
Along with his love of song, the other recurring feature of his comments was his obvious and deep love for Linda. Many of us on the blog keep much of ourselves hidden behind usernames and avatars but George would never miss a chance to sing Linda's praises. Little hints were dropped of his admiration for her, whether he was recounting the meal he had recently cooked for her or explaining the travails she had gone through to return a stranger's lost phone. As much as sharing our musical treasures, I think George found the blog to be a forum in which he could share how lucky he considered himself to be.
My respect for George reached new heights in March of 2019. That was the time he asked to guru the theme of suicide. Despite some reservations, it was truly one of the most revelatory weeks we've had. Scrolling through the blog again, the lightness of George's touch in navigating the topic is remarkable. The comments through the thread were some of the most emotionally honest that we've seen and George knew when to encourage, but also when to just give people the space they needed. I don't think anyone else could have handled the subject so well and it spoke to his wisdom to let the contributors and songs speak for themselves. Looking back, its startling to see so many names who are no longer regular, active participants. Sadly, George has joined their ranks.
My condolences to his family and close friends.
There are several others wishing to pay tribute, some of whom have expressed it with a song suggestion. Tincanman for example, says:
I'll suggest Jegsy Dodd & the Sons of Harry Cross - Downtown Birkenhead for the playlist because Jegsy was a true original, a bit eccentric, and as Wirral as it gets. As was George. We discovered we were walking-distance neighbours online, and hearing Jegsy's accent brought me back to our favourite little cafe.
Talking of cafes, in the days of playing the game of playlists on the Guardian site, another longtime regular magicman reports a mischievous plot amongst contributors to play a well-meaning trick on another beloved regular, tincanman, with an idea suggested by Marco den Ouden to April Fool Tinny because he "good-naturedly complains about his dearth of A-listers”. A complex plot ensued with the idea of a bogus A-list entirely suggested by Tinny. But then George stepped in with this typically fun comment:
"Hi Marco & friends
Tincanman often eschews the MFF (midnight feeding frenzy which later became midday FF of nominating songs) and could possibly see the newspaper before the blog. There's a little cafe he goes to after taking his kids to school where he takes breakfast and reads The Guardian. The whole gag could be compromised. Why not give him ten B-listers? It would be easier to pull off, won't be crabbed in the paper and is infinitely more cruel. What are friends for, eh?
See you, George (Webcore)”
But magicman goes on to describe his own friendship with George particular when any tensions arose on online:
George and I communicated many many times off-blog whenever issues arose or people stonked off, or got annoyed with my ways (Rockin' Mitch springs to mind). George was always forthright, supportive and clear in all his dealings with me and with the blog which he cherished. He loved the space, he loved the music lovers. He didn't love me saying "this is the greatest song of all time from Joni Mitchell". or anything else like that - he felt I should let people make their own mind up. And he was right. He usually was. May his body rest in peace and may his spirit fly on.
George inspired others in many ways. Another regular Severin, describes how contributors chose to celebrate George’s 60th birthday. Another regular, DaddyPig organised a crime fiction story in which each volunteer wrote a section and had to include three Captain Beefheart songs in their prose. Here's a link to the results:
And when it comes to choosing songs for playlists, various contributors also have a say. Suzi recalls how much he liked Bert Jansch in a comment about a song which prompted his comment about how Bert had encouraged younger musicians with many other reminiscences about his generous spirit and engagement. Nicko recalls with affection about George rejecting a suggestion for a playlist, but in the nicest possible way, Jimi Hendrix’s Room Full Of Mirrors in the week of songs about decor:
“Hi Nicko, Jimi's original is bloody bleeding frigging fantastic, but methinks it's a metaphor for learning to look outward rather than inward. Great taste, though.”
One that stuck in my mind for his full-throated praise of the song as well as his perception (which I agree with) and generosity in knocking it back.
Chris 7572 is the Song Bar’s Grateful Dead specialist, and chooses this number as a link to both men’s mutual live experience:
George A-listed this version of the Dead covering Hard To Handle from the Hollywood Festival and, although there are better versions, this is one that both George and I witnessed. It’s entirely possible that one or both of us was caught by the film crew in the movie they failed to make thanks to being dosed by the band and their accomplices.
It wasn’t until almost 50 years later that I met him on the Albert Dock but by that time – thanks to this RR/SongBar community – I already had a good picture of the proud, erudite, knowledgeable Scouser standing before me. The couple of songs we played together weren’t enough.
The first Deadsong that George Alisted was Saint Stephen, in Philosopher’s week. This has an echo of him on that dockside:
Saint Stephen will remain
All he's lost he shall regain
Seashore washed by the suds and the foam
Been here so long he's got to calling it home
George’s taste were broad, as the playlist will illustrate, to to prove it, here’s one of his own posts about Adagio by Estrella Morente with Enrique Morente, referring in the context of songs about fathers and daughters, and also wife Linda, aka Mrs Webcore:
Mrs Webcore dug me in the ribs as I played her some of our old-timey memories on this video. The Mosque in Cordoba, the Alcazar, the Guadalquivir, "You silly old soppy sod," said she. But it was the lyrics that got me, Spaniards singing in Italian - like I know! But I had the translation in front of me. The stunning (on many levels) Estrella Morente closed her 2012 LP 'Autorretrato' with 'Adagio', a digital duet with her late father, the peerless Enrique Morente.
"I do not know where to find you
I do not know how to look for you
But I hear a voice that
In the wind talks about you
This heartless soul
Waits for you
Slowly
The nights without skin
Dreams without stars
Images of your face
Which pass suddenly
They make me hope again
That I will find you
Slowly
I close my eyes and see you
I find the path that
Takes me away
agony
I feel beating in me.”
So then, finally, a tribute to man in music. Thank you everyone for emailing in contributions. Best wishes to all of George’s family. A man greatly missed.
The Big George Boyland Tribute Playlist:
Jimi Hendrix: All Along the Watchtower
Captain Beefheart: Upon The My O My
Frank Zappa: Cosmic Debris
Kevin Ayers: Song For Insane Times
Traffic: Paper Sun
The Rolling Stones: We Love You
Jimi Hendrix: Castles Made Of Sand
The Pioneers: Battle Of The Giants
The Byrds: Gunga Din
Nina Simone: Feeling Good
Family: Observations From A Hill
The Grateful Dead: Hard To Handle (live cover version)
Robert Wyatt: Soup Song
Captain Beefheart & his Magic Band: Big Eyed Beans From Venus
Jegsy Dodd and The Original Sinners: Birkenhead
Kevin Coyne: Sand All Yellow
Bert Jansch: Black Waterside
XTC: All Along The Watchtower
Estrella Morente: Adagio
PJ Harvey: Yuri G
Groanbox Boys: Last Call
The Beatles: In My Life
Farewell George …
George’s various Song Bar playlist pieces can be read here.
Another link to his full playlist writing via the Marconium is here.
Links to his past comments below the line are here, and also here.