And I changed my name so only my looks remain
And if looks could kill, I'd need a license for my face
'Cause where his fists put bruises, a scheming smile now takes their place
Felt like I was in a field
Looking for a pin
It's a kind of loneliness
It's a kind of emptiness
But I'm not trying, I'm just rehearsing
For the perfect day
When I Want You—Del Amitri—Waking Hours—1989
Hey friends and readers! I hope everyone is managing to stay cool—and cool—during these hot and contentious days of summer. Remember always that peace comes from within. Nothing in the world can go your way enough to bring you peace. Nearly all of it is outside our control—all we can control is how we react, respond, and choose to operate in the world.
This week I’ve chosen to write about a Scottish band that has touched me with their lyrics and music for much of my adult life. The motivation for dragging this draft into the light is the annual playing of The Open—golf’s oldest championship—being contested this year in a small iconic town on the western shore of the Isle of Scotland—at Royal Troon. I’ve been to Troon. I played it with my dad back in September 2007 as part of an epic Father/Son junket with a total of eight of us—four guys and our four dads—we battled many of the big name courses. The Old Course at St. Andrews, Carnoustie, Kings and Queens Courses at Gleneagles, an historic 12-hole course on the Isle of Arran in the Firth of Clyde, Ailsa at Turnberry, and of course Troon. Suffice to say it was magical—for so many reasons—being with my dad—being at the birthplace of golf—and being a professional drinker like me back in the day whose cocktail of choice was a Johnny Walker Black with one cube.
I have a particular memory from Troon that bears telling. My dad was none too happy with me at that mid-point in the trip. I was hoisting flasks out of my golf bag before the first hole. A wee dram? Pops was walking ahead of me most of that round. I cruised up alongside him on the 17th green and threw my arm around his shoulders and half-drunkenly said How cool is this Dad? Playing golf together in Scotland—trip of a lifetime. How ‘bout a smile? He looked deadpan at me and said I smiled back on number 7. He extricated himself from my grasp and walked away across the green.
There was a band from nearby Glasgow that pierced my consciousness in the mid-80s and has stayed with me. Their name was Del Amitri. According to the band’s founder and lead man Justin Currie—the original name Del Amitri Rialzo—meant nothing in particular and was meant to confuse the public—of which they had exactly none. Public I mean—with the exception of a few thousand Glasgow music fans. Read along and find out why this band struck a chord with me—with lyrics like this:
And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
They'll burn down the synagogues at six o'clock
And we'll all go along like before
And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow
Del Amitri achieved limited success in the states—a wee bit more in Europe—and some renown elsewhere in the World. Started in 1980ish—because much of the Del’s history and story is purposefully (or not?) exaggerated —much in the style of the fun-loving and sarcastic lads from West Glasgow. You can find ten sites that have ten different versions of Del Amitri’s path through expectation, disappointment, success, failure, and rebirth. Currie has been the longest running wanker and is the primary writer and the bangin’ voice of the band.
With lyrics like this:
All the sickness, all the bruises
All the shit that no one chooses
Bring it on in its disguises
I'll take the knockouts with the prizes
'Cause it's feelings that cut you
And it's feelings I can't bear
But it's feelings that put you there
After slopping around through band members and British Isle appearances—and just before throwing in the towel completely—the boys hurled caution and their restaurant jobs to the wind and embarked on a small American tour in 1986. I was not aware of the band before the first 12 whistle-stop tour of America—but it did bring them into my consciousness—and soon did see the band live in May of 1990 in the small, classy jazz club Chuy’s in downtown Tempe—and then again at the Fox Theater in Boulder, CO in 1992.
Their musical trademark was jangly pop rock—twanged guitars—banged drums—and layered sing-along vocals. Starting out as devotees of the Smiths—Del Amitri cleaned up their sound and became more reminiscent of a Gin Blossoms or perhaps a Counting Crows or B52s during that time period. Lyrically it was always about troubled relationships. Woe is fucking me and look at fucking you and let’s have another drink. No wonder it resonated with me.
Small college radio stations and large independents like KSHE 95 in St. Louis and KBCO in Boulder—among many others—latched on to the alternative sound in the early 90s—and Del Amitri got some play in those formats.
The song that ear-wormed into American’s brains was most likely Roll to Me. The third song on their fourth studio album Twisted released in 1995 finally popped the band to the number 10 spot on the Billboard Hot 100. This irritated the band to no end as they considered Roll to Me a throwaway pop song in a collection of much better creations.
Fuckin’ artists—whatcha gonna do?
Lyrically I’d have to say one of my favorite Del Amitri songs was the anthem to generational angst entitled Stone Cold Sober—released on their 1989 album Waking Hours—my personal favorite of their many albums—but could resonate today.
Everybody in the funhouse
Says they want out
But we're taking our time
'Cause we're in love with time
Whole generations thinkin' of themselves
As infidels and pop stars
While the bomb loses patience
We line up and just lean against the bar
Stone cold sober
Looking for bottles of love
Stone cold sober
Looking for bottles of love
Caught in the headlights
Wide-eyed and ready to receive
We are the dead life
Locked in dogfights, lost in disbelief
And these dark days
Makes the nights seem brighter than they are
So, while Fleet Street rolls and the moon glows
In the funhouse, the fun starts
From the same album Del Amitri made their US network debut on David Letterman in the summer of 1990 with Kiss This Thing Goodbye.
Frontman and writer Currie exhibited a solid Fuck You attitude in most of his lyrics—but also possessed a somewhat fatalistic vulnerability that came through in the quieter songs.
With lyrics like this:
Patience, they say, is a saintly virtue
But hell, why should I wait
Till the clouds go rain on some other sucker's parade
Till the clouds go rain on some other sucker's parade
When every heavy skyline just empties on your faith
Sometimes keeping dry's just something to celebrate
So if the road of sin is the one I'm taking
I ain't gonna stray
Till the clouds go rain on some other sucker's parade.
Till the clouds go rain on some other sucker's parade.
Given his 2024 announcement of a Parkinson’s diagnosis several years earlier—how prescient is this lyric be from Tell Her This released thirty-five years earlier:
Tell her something in my mind
Freezes up from time to time
Justin Currie’s home of West Glasgow is only 34 miles from Troon on the west coast of Scotland. For most of us that’s a short commute. When my dad and I played Royal Troon we drew local father and son caddies. Their names escape me 17 years later—but their story is etched. I asked if they’d been to St. Andrew’s—neither one of them had ever been to the east coast of Scotland—only 106 miles away—a long commute for some. Yet they made their living looping for travelers from across the World who had paid dearly to descend on their humble hamlet. When I expressed surprise—the son said to me in his deep brogue: the jourrrneys and the places are brought herrre to me by the likes of ewe—I’ve seen the entirrre world in me mind’s eye and I get to sleep in me own bed everrry night. And I git to spend everrry day with me dad.
Simple.
No doubt Currie and his bandmates had larger ambitions. From their own website and tour history it’s clear that they had modest but actual success—selling nearly 10 million albums worldwide.
With lyrics like this:
A drunk mother was the cue
For the legendary things that you do
Behind a carnival tent with mud on your face
Behind the old glue factory too
So move away Jimmy Blue
Before your small, small town turns around and swallows you
I’ve never met or spoken to Justin Currie. I did have a brief email exchange with him about 20 years ago through a fanboy website. I was actually trying to secure the rights to one of their songs for a sports anthology show I was producing at the time. Currie was curt—if there wasn’t a sizeable paycheck involved—he wasn’t interested. I respected that—and it fit with the matter-of-fact bastard image I’d always imagined of him. Like my two caddy friends in Troon—many Scots I've met over the decades have proven that generalization out. Aww fucks sake. Tip yer pint and shut yer yap.
Currie’s solo career had modest success and he was going strong until the diagnosis just a few years ago. The Del’s final studio album (of 7 total) produced in 2021 entitled Fatal Mistakes harkened back to his belligerent youth albeit with a healthy helping of sad wisdom.
With lyrics like this:
They can't destroy us
We've put the seal on it
So be joyous
'Cause once the fuse is lit
You can't go back
You can't go back, yeah
That thing between us
That we knew was something special, well it seems it still is
Here’s the video of that song—You Can’t go Back—from the last Del Amitri album recorded in July 2021. I have to think based on the song’s meaning that perhaps Currie knew of his Parkinsons while recording it.
Del Amitri was just one band of hundreds of thousands from places all over the world—most that toil in relative obscurity. What made this band interesting to me—besides the catchy music and sing-along lyrics—was their true disdain for success. And despite that they’ve had amazing staying power.
I hope you’ll take a listen. If it’s not your thing—that’s cool. Respect.
Our musical tastes are so aligned it’s kinda stupid. I adore Del Amitri. Saw them on the old Austin City Limits stage in 95. There’s a decent book out about them. We’re gonna need to do a musical deep dive soon so you can write about some of the other artists we no doubt have in common.
.. What a musical ‘journey.. must ask Anne what she knows of them.. and their ‘scene - as she started in the ‘biz with a small ‘Label entity.. & things ‘went from there - to Gord & Early Morning Music - & the Venues & Related Promotors & Media worldwide & all that’s involved re ‘Booking & Touring Logistics. Don’t think for a minute - that didn’t Include - looking after ‘All The Private Needs’ & ‘Back Channel Comms to look after ‘local Supply while on the road
If an Army ‘Moves On Its Stomach.. so too does A Band & Road Crew.. as does a ‘travelling circus as you describe International Ski Racing & Beach Volleyball ! Just ‘different Strokes & different ‘Fuels - depending on the nature & culture of the RoadShow..
Hell Dee.. we both got our start as GateKeepers of The Alcohol .. & seemingly - both you & I developed ‘High End Tolerance.. & a ‘taste for it.. But we both had pretty serious ‘Athletic & Sporting genes which ‘turned us on .. ie ‘elevated flushing systems.. enabling us to ‘awake from the dead - ‘all shiny and new ! AND DO IT AGAIN the next day ..
My son was running with his homies .. partying, drinkin & toking nightly by their early teens. To say it was extremely ‘concerning as a single parent.. ! ! My eventual answer was to tell him bluntly - ‘You can do it at home here.. with your friends.. or elsewhere - on One Condition - You Must Be ‘the last man standing - No Exceptions - & never be the one who’s parents are calling to see if their son or daughter is passed out on our floor - or was ‘last seen. So Nobody Left Behind.. nobody Dies
ps .. somehow it ‘worked Dee..
..he, his wife & ‘close peer group.. are upstanding parents & people .. WHEW ! 🦎🏴☠️