Lindisfarne

When looking back at the golden age of British folk rock, the first artists that music critics tend to bring up are Fairport Convention, usually followed closely by Pentangle, Steeleye Span and Incredible String Band. Very rarely, though, is any mention made of the band that actually outsold them all, Lindisfarne, perhaps because their reputation as local heroes made their music seem less appealing on a universal scale.

On the fact that the memory of Alan Hull, the band's principal songwriter, remains dim outside of his home region today, young admirer Sam Fender has said:

I've always wondered if it's because he was a geordie [note 1]. I've always thought that up here in the North East we're more or less parodied on television and portrayed as these silly drunks with funny accents, from 'The Likely Lads' to 'Geordie Shore'. Maybe it's got something to do with that, but you know what? I don't care, because to us he's [Bob] Dylan and I think he's one of the most fantastic songwriters this country has ever produced

In 2022 Fender presented the documentary "Lindisfarne's Geordie Genius: The Alan Hull Story", with the express purpose of putting the spotlight back on the musician and his band: alongside Hull's former bandmates and relatives, it featured names of the calibre of Elvis Costello, Peter Gabriel, Sting, Mark Knopfler and Dave Stewart. The first named Hull one of the great, quintessentially English songwriters, "right up there with Richard Thompson and Ray Davies", while the others were equally lavish in their praise of his gifts as a poet, a passionate performer and a creator of unusual harmonies.

After a long apprenticeship on the Newcastle scene, which in 1965 saw him release a couple of singles as a member of the thoroughly beat-style Chosen Few, Hull joined another local band, the Brethren, made up of Ray Jackson (vocals, mandolin and harmonica), Simon Cowe (guitar, banjo and keyboards), Rod Clements (bass and violin) and Ray Laidlaw (drums): this was effectively the birth of Lindisfarne, although the lineup remained loosely defined for at least a couple of years, more a case of ad hoc collaboration than an actual band. The project's name, taken from a well-known tidal island in the area, was only settled on when the five were about to sign a contract with the fledgling Charisma Records.

The first album, "Nicely Out Of Tune", was recorded during 1970 and released that November, produced by John Anthony (less celebrated today than he deserves to be — among others, he helmed the first four Van Der Graaf Generator albums, Genesis's "Trespass" and "Nursery Cryme", the Queen debut, and side two of Roxy Music's "For Your Pleasure").

The tracklist opens with "Lady Eleanor", which immediately showcases the complexity of Hull's artistic vision: the intro consists of an interplay between arpeggiated acoustic guitar and a thread of electric organ, both played by Hull, with the mostly ascending phrases of Jackson's electric mandolin and the light staccato of Cowe's electric guitar underneath. The rhythm section stays understated yet builds tension, with Laidlaw's drumming dominated by toms and hi-hat patterns, and Clements's melodic bass acting as the glue between the various instruments.

Over this backdrop comes Hull's voice, singing a verse with a gothic, spectral flavour, steeped in imagery drawn from Edgar Allan Poe's stories (specifically "Eleonora" and "The Fall of the House of Usher"):

A sorceress plays the baashi [note 2] sitting cross-legged on the floor,

a belly-dancing beauty with a motor-driven saw,

I'd had my fill of nightmares, I didn't think there could be much more,

when Rodrick Usher walked in with Lady Eleanor,

she blindfolded my eyes with a ribbon of spectral silk,

I stared with clouded sight at an old four-poster bed,

where Eleanor had risen to kiss my neck beneath the headboard,

and she invited me to go with her to the land of the dancing dead

Here comes a shift in atmosphere, with a change from B minor to D major. The narrating voice rejects the offer and the arrangement releases the pent-up energy it had been building, breaking into a gallop marked by the vocal harmonies of Hull and Jackson, singing in unison:

But it's alright, Lady Eleanor,

I'm fine where I am

The rest of the song carries on with this back-and-forth, with Eleanor revealed to be a demonic figure:

She stared at me with a loving beauty, like a mother to a child,

like living, dying, seeing, being, all rolled into one,

then suddenly I heard music playing in my bones,

the same old song I'd been listening to for years, the one that reminded me of home.

Then crawling toward me, licking her lips with tongues of fire,

a horde of golden demons screaming lust and primitive desires,

and just when it seemed certain the screams couldn't get any louder,

I heard one voice above the others shout "you're a liar!",

but that's alright, Lady Eleanor,

I'm fine here in your arms

Beyond the refinement of the instrumental work, what also stands out is the lexical richness and metrical density, pointing to a strongly literary bent (a similar level would later be reached by the David Bowie of "Hunky Dory" and by Steve Harley on "The Human Menagerie", both of which came afterwards).

Another standout moment in the tracklist is "Winter Song", a stark, drum-less ballad with a mostly acoustic waltz-time arrangement, marked by suspended harmonies and chromaticism, but above all by Hull's voice, which moves between calm verses not unlike Nick Drake and a chorus where it rises in intensity, turning rasped. The song reveals the strong social conscience that would mark Hull's entire career (the peak of his activism would come in the Eighties, with his support for the miners' struggle against the Thatcher government):

When winter's shadowy fingers chase you down the street

and your boots no longer lie about the cold around your feet,

do you spare a thought for summer, whose passing is done,

whose memories lie in ruins and whose ruins lie in warmth?

When winter comes howling.

When the wind sings strangely, blowing music through your head,

and your rain-spattered windows make you decide to stay in bed,

do you spare a thought for the homeless wanderer who wishes to die

or do you instead pull the covers up higher, dreaming of summer?

The creeping cold has fingers that stroke with authority

and the mystic crystal snowdrops only worsen the condition,

spare a thought for the gypsy, with no fixed abode,

turned away in disdain from villages and towns by a magistrate's decision?

When the turkey's in the oven and the Christmas presents have been bought,

and Santa Claus is in his module, an American astronaut,

spare a thought for Jesus, who had nothing but his thoughts

and was arrested only for talking and keeping the wrong company?

“Clear White Light – Part 2” (so titled because it's a reworking of a pre-existing track) moves between a chorus built on vocal harmonies with a mystical flavour, closely tied to Celtic tradition, and a more modern verse that glances toward sunshine pop and the American West Coast (such transatlantic connections were not uncommon in the British folk scene of the time, just think of Fairport Convention's ties to Bob Dylan's songs and the sound of Jefferson Airplane). The instrumental backing, with its repetitive, pounding groove, may even predate the glam rock era.

The track destined to become central to the band's live shows, however, is “We Can Swing Together”, driven by the drums' assertive midtempo and a piano pattern, coloured first by a harmonica and then by a distorted electronic signal at the close, but elevated above all by lyrics railing against abuses of power by the authorities and by a communal, ecumenical chorus, belted out by the crowd at every show:

No one came to criticise,

no one came to complain,

[but] just to spend some time,

mingling among people,

some were smoking the cigarettes they'd rolled,

while others had none,

everyone was holding hands,

singing this little song:

'we can have fun together

because we feel we're doing the right thing,

we can have fun together,

we can go on all night'.

Then, as this was happening,

around ten to four,

there was a screech of brakes,

dogs barking outside,

and loud knocks at the door,

then the voice of an officer

saying 'open up, in the name of the law',

but we kept holding hands

and singing this song a little longer:

‘we can have fun together [...]’.

Then they broke down all the doors

and kicked in the windows,

they let their little dogs off their leashes

and turned everything upside down,

they put us all up against the wall,

their faces crossed by a little smirk,

they linked their own handcuffs together

and started singing happily:

‘we can have fun together [...]’.

They took us to the county judge,

with a wig on his head,

he listened to our case with a smile on his face

and this is what he said:

'I've got to send you all to prison,

for doing this terrible thing'.

And as I went down towards the cells,

I swear I heard him singing:

'we can have a laugh together [...]'

Hull's songwriting is capable of the most disparate moods: after the nightmare of "Lady Eleanor" and the sociopolitical denunciation of "Winter Song" and "We Can Swing Together", we move on to the ironic touches of "Alan In The River With Flowers", a parody of the Beatles' Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, and "Down", a Kinks-esque little march complete with a raspberry solo courtesy of Jackson.

Seven of the eleven tracks are Hull's, while Clements puts his name to a couple, among which "Road To Kingdom Come" stands out: despite lyrics far more straightforward than Hull's ("I've got no one to call a friend, the road I walk has got no end, so I turn my face towards the sun and walk the road to kingdom come"), it boasts a melody and arrangement of real quality, with a violin line proudly on display.

Rounding out the tracklist are "Jackhammer Blues" (a Woody Guthrie cover, confirming Hull's socially engaged streak) and "Turn A Deaf Ear", lent to the band by Scottish singer-songwriter Rab Noakes, who was also emerging around that time. It's a nursery-rhyme-like song whose lyrics denounce the need to fall in line with dominant customs and behaviours in order to find one's place in society, with no possibility of resistance ("I can only turn again, turn again to the front, only to turn again, to the rear. Turn again, turn, turn, turn again, I can listen, but I cannot hear").

Sales were disappointing and the record failed to break into the Record Retailer chart, but the band began building a solid live reputation, to the point that between 24 January and 13 February 1971 they took part in a joint tour with labelmates Genesis and Van Der Graaf Generator, ending up as the tour's main draw.

The quintet then went back into the studio and that same October released "Fog On The Tyne", their second album and the record that brought them huge success, entering the charts at number 23 before slowly climbing all the way to number 1, reached in March 1972: for the first time, a British folk band had hit the top spot.

Riding on its coattails, "Nicely Out Of Tune" finally got the recognition it deserved, entering the top 40 in January 1972 and climbing as high as number 8 in June. Meanwhile, "Lady Eleanor" was reissued as a single, pushing up to number 3 that same month.

Lindisfarne would never repeat a triumphant run like that one, soon vanishing from the upper reaches of the charts (from 1973 onwards, they only reached the top 10 again with the single "Run From Home"), though they retained a deep cult following in the North East. Alan Hull died suddenly of a heart attack on 17 November 1995, but his bandmates decided to carry on as Lindisfarne in order to keep his memory alive, and later also organised a music competition dedicated to him.

Newcastle City Hall today boasts a plaque dedicated to Hull, prominently placed near the entrance. The hope is that the echo of his music might spread once again as it did for a brief but dazzling period roughly half a century ago: a figurehead like Sam Fender, arguably the most important English songwriter of his generation, is certainly a step in the right direction.

[note 1] A term used to refer to the people and accent typical of the Newcastle area.

[note 2] An Indian flute, more commonly known as bansuri.

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17/08/2025