As a song-writer there are so many songs that inspire you, songs that make you love them for what there are but hate them for reminding you what you can never reach, that I could blog daily but never list sufficiently. But, and in no particular order (despite the obligatory numbering), I’ll give it the occasional go.

First out of the metaphorical hat, a song from the best song-writing duo to come out of London since Jagger-Richards. Yes, even better than Chas and Dave. I’m talking about Chris Difford and Glen Tilbrook, the beating heart of Squeeze, and in particular, ‘Tempted’.

The song features, of course, that vocal by Paul Carrack, like warm toast on a winter’s morning; thick toast with oodles of butter on.

The soulful intro, setting it up nicely. The lyric starts, unromantic, practical:

‘I bought a toothbrush, some toothpaste, a flannel for my face’

What song starts with a shopping list? More to the point, what great song starts with a shopping list?

A hairbrush, pyjamas, new shoes and a case

Glenn Tilbrook, guitarist and composer with Squeeze, would have been well-practised at receiving lyrics from bandmate Chris Difford that didn’t fit the norm and making gold-dust from them; this would have been no different. A lyric stuffed with bare glimpses of images and places going by.

Passed the church and the steeple, the laundry on the hill

Difford wrote the lyric on the way to the airport, about to go on tour and all too familiar with the temptations that would bring. Who needs looks when you have an electric guitar and a clutch of hit singles?

The cover of East Side Story which includes ‘Tempted’

Tempted by the fruit of another

Tempted but the truth is discovered

A young man about to leave a love familiar, a young man with a screaming libido that drives him to do things he’ll know he’ll regret but is only a little keen to resist.

‘Your body gets much closer, I fumble for the clock

Alarmed by the seduction, I wish that it would stop

Then the regret, the blunt stab to kill off the sickening guilt from the airport’s duty free.

‘I bought a novel, some perfume, a fortune all for you

But it’s not my conscience, that hates to be untrue

Despite the song not even tickling the top 40 anywhere it slipped into almost every mixed tape I ever made and remains high in the musical consciousness of anyone around in 1981 who possessed even the merest sniff of good taste.

Quintessentially British, more specifically South London, the quality of Tilbrook and Difford songs transcend regional parameters. That said, ‘Tempted’ felt different.

It’s soul-tinged production from Elvis Costello and a voice such as Paul Carrack’s; surely inspired by the likes of Sam Cooke and Otis Redding, give the song more of a universal reach which help explain why it has grown and reached further down the years. But then great songs have a habit of doing just that.


Dreams come in different shapes and sizes. And different packages. They can be private and low-key, they can be brash and bold. They can be sturdy and solid, they can be fluid or fragile. On one particular, crisp October day in North Audley Square in London, my dream came in a big red sports bag. I was 21, a fledgling songwriter and was about to have my first meeting with a music publisher – Elton John’s Rocket Records.

Contained in that sports bag was an envelope with a cassette of a song I’d written with my then songwriting partner Bob Mouat. God knows why I took a sports bag to house a cassette and a couple of sandwiches, maybe that was considered rock n’ roll chic at the time. If you’re willing to go with that rather unlikely explanation to replace the one I don’t have, we’ll go with that.

Impossibly early for my meeting, I’d been sitting on a park bench for over an hour. I was beyond nervous. Elton was the first artist I’d seen live and he and his lyricist Bernie Taupin were my main songwriting inspiration, so to have an appointment at his music publishers was spine-tingling, even if Elton and Bernie were oblivious of my existence and probably partying over in LA. None of that mattered. What did matter was that I was here, today, with my song.

Of course an essential element for any dream is how you envisage it panning out. This may have nothing to do with the eventual reality but that doesn’t matter at the start, you have to see it being glorious and exciting and everything you want it to be. I’d made this appointment weeks ago which gave me plenty of time to decide in my head how this was all going to work out.

How the Dream Meeting would unfold

I was going to play the song and the Publisher Man (the mists of time have left him nameless, so from now on Publisher Man is his new moniker) would nod approvingly, realising this could be a red letter day in his career. I’d be sitting here maintaining my cool; I knew the song was good.

Then the door would open and someone would step in. I presumed it would be another publisher but as I turned my head I would recognise the face. It was Elton.

He was dressed as casually as Elton John could dress at just gone 4 o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, cutting a striking figure in feathered headdress and diamante suit. Publisher Man would acknowledge EJ (as in my head that’s how Elton would soon ask me to address him), and continue listening to the song.

EJ would ask who’s song was playing and Publisher Man would introduce us. EJ didn’t normally cover other people’s material but he would ask my permission to put the song on his soon to be recorded multi-platinum selling album. I’d answer casually that that I’d need to ask my songwriting partner but it shouldn’t be a problem. He’s then offer us a 3-year publishing deal and ask if I’d be willing to write some lyrics for him. I replied that I’d be happy to. At the same time I felt the warm, excited flow of urine trickle down my inside leg.

As he leaves the room he gives a respectful nod to my big red sports bag and the rest would be rock ‘n roll history.

How the Actual Meeting unravelled

Five minutes before the appointment I approached Rocket Records, sports bag in tow, and walked in. Either side of the receptionist desk with it’s huge Rocket logo hung various framed photo’s of Elton’s album covers, live photos and gold discs. My heartbeat quickened. I introduced myself to the receptionist informing her that I was there for my appointment with Publisher Man. She looked puzzled, then informed me that he wasn’t there.

In disbelief I explained how I’d phoned up two months before and made the appointment. She asked me if I’d written to confirm the appointment and I replied that I hadn’t as I’d taken the phone call as verbal confirmation of the meeting.

I asked if there was any other Publisher Person I could see and she explained they only had one other and he was out of the country. I was crestfallen, and she could see it. I told her that I’d travelled down from Liverpool for this one appointment. Her polite apology understandably failed to lift my spirits.

I turned and slowly walked out of Rocket Records, never to return. Elton didn’t ask me to refer to him as EJ and somehow his career stumbled onto multi-Grammy and Oscar successes, not to mention a Knighthood, without recording our song. Or using my lyrics.

The dream changes shape. Again. And Again..

I learned some important lessons from that rather naive first trip that rendered it more than just a useless and crushingly disappointing journey. First, always back up any appointment with a letter (this being the days before emails), and never go down with just one song and one meeting. We may never have hit the heights we originally aimed for but from then on we always got respect, we eventually got songs published and had many great experiences.

But some things don’t change; the constant and undying need for passion in that thing you love doing, for that fire to remain burning inside. Most importantly, knock-backs still serve a purpose if we are only big enough to learn from them, and adjust accordingly. Dreams are pliable, they can change shape when needed. Only submission to the disappointments can destroy them completely.

And if you allow disappointment to destroy your dream, then what else is left?