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16 October 2017

Alan Clayson and the Argonauts new album released today

 
ALAN CLAYSON AND THE ARGONAUTS
NEW ALBUM: THIS CANNOT GO ON…
(Rush Release)

 
ALAN CLAYSON AND THE ARGONAUTS will be launching THIS CANNOT GO ON… with a special concert
on the evening of Friday 20th October 2017 at The Dublin Castle, 94 Parkway, London NW1 7AN
 It is difficult to explain to the uninitiated quite what to expect – but, for the faithful, this will be more pivotal an event than Moses re-appearing before the Israelites from the clouded summit of Mount Sinai.
The Album is available to buy on this site in the ‘Music or products section and will shortly be available to download or stream on iTunes and Spotify
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1 Response

  1. Robert

    RECORD COLLECTOR

    ALAN CLAYSON AND THE ARGONAUTS
    This Cannot Go On…, the first non-compilation CD by Alan Clayson actually with the Argonauts was cast adrift on discographical oceans this autumn, and RC asked the eloquent Mr. Clayson about it.

    The fifteen tracks embrace compositions both fresh off the assembly line – and from as far back as our ‘imperial’ era in the late 1970s. If the tour bus had drawn up outside a ballroom on Pluto then, it mightn’t have seemed all that odd – particularly after one of our B-sides, ‘Landwaster’, penetrated a couple of Top Forties sur le continent after a radio presenter in the Netherlands started spinning it by mistake.
    Our first decade climaxed in 1985 with, well, What A Difference A Decade Made, a cause célèbre of an album that earned rave reviews in Folk Roots (!) and The Observer. That was presumed to be that until Sunset On A Legend, a two-CD retrospective, was unleashed by Damaged Goods twenty years later – and we reformed as a ‘tribute band’ to ourselves, namely me and three of the original members – Pete Cox (guitar), Alan Barwise (drums) and John Harries (woodwinds) – plus Andy Lavery (keyboards) and Paul Critchfield (bass). They’re the finest edition of the Argonauts that’s ever been; certainly the most versatile.
    Though onlookers might gaze between cracks in their fingers sometimes, we deliver very much a ‘show’ that still defies succinct description. So does This Cannot Go On…, which resulted from us being pregnant with ideas for immortalising road-tested items evolved over hundreds of hours on stage – as well as not so much songs as ‘things’ (like ‘The Local Mister Strange’ with John Otway on theremin) that can’t go beyond intriguing approximations on the boards during a present run of engagements centred on This Cannot Go On…, and, hopefully, the beginning of another ‘golden age’!
    Is there anyone in your family history who was a musician?
    Not of any significance. Indeed, my mother told me, ‘Alan, if you ever walk on a stage with a pop group, I shall die of shame!’ She’s now deep into her eighties.
    Of all the people you’ve worked with, who taught you the most, and in what way?
    One of them was Dave Berry who served as careers advisor, father confessor and a major catalyst in the recovery of my artistic confidence when, after Clayson and the Argonauts sundered in 1985, I became keyboard player with his backing Cruisers.
    If you could have anyone cover one of your songs, which song, and who would you want doing it?
    Maybe it’s happened already – because Dave has covered several, most conspicuously on his 1987 album Hostage To The Beat.
    What’s the oddest place or circumstance that’s inspired a song?
    In 1996 on a series of one-nighters in the north-east with Denny Laine – during which, incidentally, we were ‘personalities’ at a record fayre at the University of Northumbria – I pulled up outside a minimart around midnight. Without a by-your-leave, I plugged my cassette recorder into a power-point behind the counter to sing wordless bars of a melody that was bursting the river bank of my imagination. A half-awake check-out girl peered indifferently. This flash of inspiration would develop into ‘Forest De Winter Kitkat’ on my 2012 album, One Dover Soul.
    Do you plan an autobiography?
    I’m in the throes of Nut Rocker, my perspective on what one Sunset On A Legend reviewer described as ‘one of rock’s most glorious and enjoyable follies’. He mentioned too that ‘Alan’s sleeve notes are an entertainment in themselves’ before concluding that ‘somewhere there is a parallel universe where Clayson and the Argonauts are bigger than The Beatles’.

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