Norman Paterson
"A songwriter whose compassion pours out in every word and lyric, Norman's writing moved me to tears with its beauty"
- Declan Welch - Declan Welch and the Decadent West
"Norman's songs bypass the brain and go straight for the heart. (That's code for some of his songs make me a bit teary). I think of him as the "Hebridean John Prine"
- Findlay Napier The Magpie Arc
Norman Paterson
Like a fine Scottish whisky from his homeland, Singer Songwriter Norman Paterson has really set the tone for an artist that only makes their mark after years in the creative barrel. Originally from the windswept islands of the Outer Hebrides and now based in Glasgow, he penned his first song at the age of 65 and now has two albums in the pipeline!
Crafting songs in the style of Scottish Folk and Country, he is inspired by artists such as John Prine, Guy Clark and Leonard Cohen. Incorporating the acoustic guitar, mandolin, banjo and accordion as they sweep through his songs, Norman is making the kind of music that stirs the ancient soul. Painting memories of a nostalgic island life, his lyrics and signature vocals are warm, authentic and deeply intoxicating.
Acknowledging himself that he is a late starter, he is one of the best examples of ‘its never too late to try’. Cascading melodies and a delightful collection of intoxicating songs, his forthcoming debut album titled Torn with a July 2023 release date will deliver on all fronts. Perfect for those moments of quiet indulgence, Norman’s songs are a glimpse into a world that few will have experienced.
Gearing up for live performances later in the year, Norman Paterson is grabbing every opportunity to take his music to the world. Hang on to his every word and discover a musician whose stories resonate with the gifts of a life well-lived
Torn the Story
From the wind swept lonesome shores of the Outer Hebrides and his current hometown of Glasgow comes a winsome collection of finely crafted songs from Norman Paterson titled Torn. Reflecting the picturesque cluster of islands renowned for their rugged beauty, untouched landscapes, and rich Gaelic heritage, Norman reflects a sense of peace and tranquillity with his debut album.
The moment you step into this 15 track opus, you will be transported to the breath-taking vistas and memories of a time long forgotten. At 65 years of age, Norman has brought together all of his experiences to craft an album that is a testament to the faith he has placed in himself. Embarking on a journey that would be challenging enough for someone in their twenties, he has the vision and the knowledge to add a new and exciting voice to the world of Scottish folk and country music.
Blending traditional Scottish melodies and storytelling with a dash of contemporary flavours, Torn is not a rip in time but a full blown dive into what makes the Scotland’s music of Auld so rewarding. From the spoken word opening of The Pier, to the imperious majesty of the Country infused Tender, and the more toe tapping creativity of Accident or Design, Norman wraps everything in a warm embrace of unbelievable textures.
Banjos, Accordions, Guitars, perfect complimentary female harmonies, are all given the chance to breathe in the rarefied air that Norman creates. His lyrics and their phrasing hark back to the time of the poets and traditional Gaelic storytellers. With a voice that carries the weight of centuries of tradition, he weaves a tapestry of words that transports listeners to a different place and time.
An example of the old adage that ‘it’s never too late to follow your dreams’ , Torn is a gift from the older generation to age groups that will have never experienced such beauty in the modern music world. Join him on his path as he shares his music to an audience that will fall in love with an album that defines the social fabric of the islands. It is a long player that will tear no person asunder but restore their faith in humanity.
Torn Tracklisting
- The Pier
- Torn
- Two Rivers
- Heart of The Hebrides
- Tender
- Silver Locket
- The Tree That Bends
- The Alchemists
- Tides They Turn
- Mary Ann
- When Yellow is on The Broom
- And The Healing Will Begin
- Accident or Design
- Suilisgeir
The Pier
Piers play a significant part in island life however for much of the time they lie silent. In the 60/70’s most people traveled home by bus, so we’d rush to meet each ferry to see who was coming down the gangway.
A pier
Harboring no feelings of this or that
Stands silent
A ferry appears
Women in Glasgow frocks and heels
disembark down steep steps
clutching handbags and handrails.
Husbands in Sunday suits
carry cardboard suitcases
Waves of recognition
Children held at arms distance
inspected for likeness and growth
Wary cousins measured.
Chatter from arrivals
tears from departures
Arms placed round shoulders
Backs turned against land and sea
A pier empty
No longer echoing of sounds
Stands silent
Torn
Many island folk feel torn. In our younger years torn between leaving or staying and as we get older between returning home or making a life forever away from the Island. In this song a young girl yearns to leave the island unaware of the affect it will have on her parents.
She’s leaving the island
She needs to get away
An unfamiliar voice is calling
A And getting louder every day
She fears to break the ties that bind
But the voice will not be scorned
And as she looks across the water
She is torn
The boat sails Monday morning
Before the towns awake
They drive her to the harbour
A car full of heartache
Her world surrounded by the sea
Ends on every shore
And as she looks across the water
She is torn
She boards the boat turns back to wave
To her parents on the pier
The only place she’s ever known.
Will slowly disappear
Back home the house is silent
They sit and watch the dawn
As the ferry boat gets smaller
They are torn
Our world surrounded by the sea
Ends on every shore
And as we gaze across the water
We are torn
Two Rivers
This song is about the part the Creed River and the Glen River played in my upbringing. When we were young our parents allowed us to play near the gentle Glen. As we grew older and bolder we’d venture to the wild Creed.
There are two rivers in my hometown
Driving down the rain
Through the hills to the sea
Both these rivers flowed through me
The softer river hugs the town
Rolls along with a soothing sound
As a child I walked its course
I gathered its peace
It let me cross
Different rivers
Different rain
No two pathways run the same
The wilder river shuns the town
It’s waters fast
Its pull is strong
As a child I walked its course
It took my fear
It let me cross
Both these rivers played their part
In the design of my restless heart
I’m going back to where I came
Where the rivers know my name
Different rivers
Different rain
No two pathways run the same
I’m going back
To where I came
Where the rivers know my name
I’m going back
To where I came
Where the rivers know my name
The Heart of the Hebrides
The first half of this song is about places I remember from the Butt to Uist. The second half is about its people and industries.
I have watched a Bernera sunset
On a summer solstice night
Until the last threads of darkness
Surrendered to the light
I have felt the winter storms
Lash against the Port of Ness
Like Neptune’s ancient army
Charging merciless
Deep into the Heart of the Hebrides
I have crossed the Grimsay Causeway
Landed down on Barra Beach
Sailed across the sea to Scalpay
Where I saw the Devil’s Sheep
I’ve travelled the Golden Road
Up and down its bends and bays
Knelt inside the Rodel Church
On a late December day
Deep within the Heart of the Hebrides
I’ve watched the fishing fleet
Setting sail before the dawn
Stood amongst the fishermen
In a frozen auction mart
I have worked a kipper yard
Minded herring as they smoked
Hanging from the rafters
Above the burning oak
Deep within the Heart of the Hebrides
I have heard the weavers loom
Late into the darkest night
I have seen the single bulb
Spreading out its yellow light
I’ve stood on the Holm cliffs
Thought about the Iolaire
Trying to make some sense
Of what unfolded there
And tore the Heart out of the Hebrides
Tender
A song for my wife Angela about the sum of the parts. The whole is greater than the bits and pieces that go to make it.
There is no colour in the moon
It just reflects the sun
The forest makes no sound
When no one is around
When I first laid my eyes on you
I’d no idea did you
But the sun and moon both knew
You’d stop me running
So I keep it on the tender
Leave it on the true
I wear it on my sleeve
Only for you
If I should lose you
In whatever shape or form
The moon would lose its colour
The forest give up its song
I have no answer
To thoughts of this kind
So, I don’t give them time
Or space in my mind
When I first laid my eyes on you
I’d no idea did you
But the sun and moon both knew
You’d stop me running
So I keep it on the tender
Leave it on the true
I wear it on my sleeve
Only for you
A Silver Locket and A Key
When World War One was announced within 48 hours all the fit men from the Hebrides enlisted. Of the 6712 that went off to war 1151 never returned. (source www.hebrideanconnections.com ) Many would have been fathers leaving behind wives and children. This song could be one family's story. Maybe the wee girl in this song went on to be someone's mother, Granny or even great Granny.
On the edge of the harbour looking east
East toward the light across the bay
Following a ship that’s disappearing
She lifts her tiny hand begins to wave
She looks at her mother stood beside her
And the other mothers in the line
Holding their children so tightly
As if letting go would anger the divine
Below the wind she’s singing Jesus loves me
A song she learned upon her father’s knee
while her other hand deep in her coat pocket
Clasps a silver locket and a key
With his back to the bridge, he looks homeward
Home to those gathered on the pier
He closes his eyes to freeze the moment
Filled of the those he holds dear
In a mud filled trench called Gordon Alley
By a village in the Somme
While his brothers in arms are sleeping
He’s crouched in a corner writing home.
Below the guns he’s singing Jesus loves me
A song he learned upon his father’s knee
While his other hand deep in his coat pocket
Clasps a silver locket and a key
And when the guns fell silent
On the 11th day
He heard a small bird whistling.
And he fell to his knees
And he sang out loud Jesus Love Me
A song he learned upon his father’s knee
And he thought about his wife and daughter
And kissed the silver locket and its key
The Tree that Bends
I liked the idea of writing a song that sounded like an old traditional folk song. It’s about protecting your children while giving them space to learn.
The tree that bends
Toward the sun
Grows its roots down
Deep and strong
Learns to sway
With the gentle breeze
Come the winter
Weathers the storm
When the farmer goes
To plant the tree
He protects the bark
Leaves the branches free
By following this
Ancient way
The tree grows stronger
Day by day
When the farmer goes
To build a house
He’ll build from stone
Face it south
By following this
Ancient way
It becomes a home
Day by day
The tree that bends
Toward the sun
Grows its roots down
Deep and strong
And learns to sway
With the gentle breeze
Come the winter
Weathers the storm
The Alchemists
For almost 100 years, from 1850 up to the Second World War up to 3,000 island women were employed in the industry as “Herring Girls”. The work while lucrative was harsh. My Granny from Point was a herring girl. My Grandad originally from Glasgow was a Kipper Man. That’s how they met. The line “turning silver into gold” refers to the Silver Darlings which were turned into the famous golden Stornoway Kippers
My Grandad was a kipper man
He smelt of wood and smoke
His hands were red from kipper dye
He coughed before he spoke
Born in the Glasgow Gorbals
At the turn of the century
Shipped out to the east coast
Brought up by the sea
He spent his life in red brick kilns
Amongst the burning oak
Or standing on the quay side
With the other fisher folk
They told me they were Alchemists
Back in the days of old
Traveling Scotland’s herring towns
Turning silver into gold
My Granny was a herring girl
She left before the war
And headed for the herring ports
Along the Scottish shore
One of 2000 island girls
Who worked in teams of three
Gutting curing packing fish
Outside on the quay
With fingers wrapped in cotton rags
Made from old flour sacks
To save her hands from the gutting knife
Salt water and the cracks
They told me they were Alchemists
Back in the days of old
Traveling Scotland’s herring towns
Turning silver into gold
Now the herring are no more
And the gold has turned to dust
Kipper yards demolished
boats turned to rust
These days will never come again
But stories will be told
When herring girls and kipper men
Turned silver into gold
They told me they were Alchemists
Back in the days of old
Traveling Scotland’s herring towns
Turning silver into gold
Tides They Turn
I started writing this song in an ambulance rushing me from Wishaw to Hairmyres Hospital after my heart attack. Things can change in the blink of an eye.
Tides They Turn
Clouds they pass
Sand runs through
the hourglass
Minutes’ walk
While years fl
Things change
In the blink of an eye
You cast a stone
You choose your way
Some roads are colours
Some roads are grey
You see her face
It melts you heart
She returns your smile
The music starts
A butterfly
flaps its wings
The movement changes
Everything
Every thought
Every sound
It spins them all
Round and round
Tides They Turn
Clouds they pass
Sand runs through
the hourglass
Minutes’ walk
While years fly
Things change
In the blink of an eye
Mary Ann
A young girl’s journey from the hills of Harris to working in Oban before getting caught up in the Clydebank Blitz in WW2. The song was inspired by a photo Elizabeth MacDonald posted on Facebook of her auntie and two friends taken outside the hotel they worked at in Whiting Bay on Arran.
Three old photographs
Caught my eye today
In a faded envelope
Hidden away
A girl on a motorbike
By a passing place
Striking a pose
Sun in her face
On the back is Mary Ann
March 31
In the Harris Hills
Before she left home
Three laughing chambermaids
On a sea front wall
Strong breeze in their hair
Billowing their shawls
On the back is Mary Ann
June 38
On Oban promenade
With Catherine and Kate
A mother with child
On a on bombed out street
Dressed in black
Rubble at her feet
On the back is Mary Ann
April 41
Outside whats left
Of their Clydebank home
Captured in black and white
Her spirit shines through
Oh Mary Ann
What happened to you
The girl on the motorbike
The woman on the wall
The mother with child
I wonder who
Captured it all
Three old photographs
Caught my eye today
In a faded envelope
From a lifetime away
When the Yellow’s on the Bloom
This song started its life as a challenge on a song writing retreat in Moniak Mhor. We were asked to write a song about what the place felt like. I looked outside the window at the broom and gorse bushes and came up with this idea. A young man from Lewis fallen during the first World War dreams of seeing his loved one and the yellow gorse bushes again.
As I lie on Flanders Field
The sound of battle fading fast
I slowly close my eyes (my love)
And I’m with you in Luskentyr
Where the sea is emerald green
And the curlew call is clear
We will walk those hills again (my love)
When the yellows on the broom
When the yellow’s on the broom (my love)
When the yellow’s on the broom
My darling will you look for
When the yellow’s on the broom
As the sun dies in the west
I feel a darkness creeping in
Until I hear your sweet voice (my love)
Telling me I’m going home
And the boat will wait for me
To sail me back across the sea
We will walk those hills again (my love)
When the yellows on the broom
When the yellow’s on the broom (my love)
When the yellow’s on the broom
My darling will you look for me
When the yellow’s on the broom
And the Healing will Begin
This song based on personal experience is about finding the right person at the right time. And having the courage to trust in them.
When the storm is at its strongest
The wind has knocked you down
When your hope has lost its anchor
There’s no comfort to be found
When your road begins to crumble
And you’re still so far from home
The drifts begin to deepen
The wolves come creeping in
When you’ve no one left to turn to
You’re running on you own
Raise up your head
And look around
And in the middle of the maelstrom
Deep within the blue-black light
There will be a place or person
Put there to make things right
And if you find the courage
And the trust to let them in
When the storm is at its strongest
The healing will begin
Accident or Design
This song was inspired by a Facebook post. One day we will do something for the last time without knowing it. I’ve set this song in the Renden Café on a Friday evening in the Autumn of 1975.
Downtown Stornoway Friday night
Autumn of 75
The bars and pubs are heaving
It feels good to be alive
Me and my pals are hanging out
In the Rendezvous Cafe
Not knowing this is the last night
It will ever be this way
There’s a clock in our town that never chimes
Stands there silent stuck in time
While all around lives unwind
Tommy’s off to college
Then he’ll head to sea
Colin starts on Monday
In a local factory
Danny’s not made any plans
Except for signing on
Me I’m scared of leaving
And scared of staying around
There’s a clock in our town that never chimes
Stands there silent stuck in time
While all around lives unwind
All things change
Stars re-arrange
Whether by
accident or design
That night was 50 years ago
But feels like yesterday
When everything was simple
Till life got in the way
Four young lads hanging out
In the Rendezvous Cafe
Not knowing it was the last night
It would ever be that way
There’s a clock in our town that never chimes
Stands there silent stuck in time
While all around lives unwind
All things change
Stars re-arrange
Whether by
accident or design
Suilisgeir
Our Grannys' houses were such special magical places. Its sad to see so many of them abandoned.
Suilisgeir built from
pebbles and concrete
stood closer to wave than village,
a strip of machair,
sandstone
walling off the inches
between the Minch and land.
Tides would spring
aligning boundaries,
lapping against doors
before neaping to
halve the distance from
The Church on the opposite shore
where the minister’s mother
would walk me.
And I spent my summers
overturning rocks,
stretching seaweed in a tightrope
as if I were trying to undermine
our home’s foundations.
allowing space for hermit crabs
to creep and crawl within
Suilisgeir now empty
each winter moving
nearer the sea
They say
It would take a foolish
man’s money to repair
the pebbles and concrete
Would I had it.
All songs written by Norman Paterson
Produced by Angus Lyon at Grans House Studio
Stornoway the Story
With its rugged coastline, historic sites like Lews Castle, and a vibrant Gaelic-speaking community, Stornoway provides a glimpse into the rich heritage of the Hebrides. Its surroundings include dramatic landscapes, ancient standing stones, and pristine beaches, making it a destination for both historians and nature lovers alike.
When you grow up there, you may be blissfully unaware of the magical moments it provides but as time marches on, you can reflect on how much it added to your life. Norman Paterson is one such artist who in his later years as a musician memorialises places, friendships and experiences that resonate with him today.
Following up on his stunning acoustic album Torn, he has moved to a full electric band with his sophomore release Stornoway. Set amongst the exciting period of his youth in the 60s and 70s where life was full of the spectacular and the vibrant colours of rock music, Norman has still retained that Celtic country feel but added elements that makes the album exceptional.
Celebrating the place he called home through a mixture of pleasure and guilt, listeners are transported to a place and time where you can imagine what it was like growing up in the Western Isles. From the opening track and the heartfelt lament of Sailing Away, to the loss of a dear old friend, and the thrill and exhilaration of a night on the town as a teenager depicted by Saturday Night; the album is full of nostalgia and dreams of days gone by, comprising of 14 songs that touch the spirit.
The pictures Norman paints are extraordinary, textured and tugging at the heartstrings to impel you to want to visit its wind-swept shores. Spiritual and blessed with a backdrop that is unique, Stornoway is a remarkable statement on what life was like over half a century ago. Innocent yet full of energy whilst exploring what it means to have existed on the edge of the open Atlantic, Norman Paterson has discovered a way to write his own songs into the narrative of the town.
Critics always say that the second album can be the most difficult to make because the ideas of the first can sometimes use up all a musician’s creative forces. This is not the case for Norman Paterson. He has expanded his reach and added more to his sound, and for that, Stornoway, The Outer Hebrides and Scotland should be forever grateful.
Stornoway Tracklisting
- Sailing Away
- Back On The Rock
- What Became of Renden
- Luskintyre
- I’m Going Home
- Plenty Days
- Stornoway Down Town
- Kenny Fags and His Red Guitar
- When I Was Young
- Sticklebacks and Red Admirals
- Dalmore
- Days
- Saturday Night
- Sailing Away Reprise
Glossary of Terms
Dail Mhor
Beach on the exposed north coast of the Isle of Lewis the next stop is Iceland. This secluded section of the coast takes the full brunt of the Atlantic swells. A good stretch of golden sand flanked by rugged cliffsThe Braighe
The Braighe is a narrow stretch of land – linking Point (Eye Peninsula) and the villages of Branahuie and MelbostCoupon’s Been Busted
Winning the pools was the only way we could see we’d get a continental holiday. Busted means the results didn’t go your way.Ullapool
Village and port located in Northern Scotland where the ferry to Stornoway leaves from
Kenny Fags
An iconic and well loved Stornoway guiter player and singer.
Pink Panther
Popular Saturday evening cartoon based on the Peter Sellers film.
Loch Broom
Loch Broom is a sea loch located in northwestern Ross and Cromarty on the west coast of Scotland. The small town of Ullapool lies on the eastern shore of the lochLuskentyre
Luskentyre beach has been named as one of the top ten beaches in the world, a spectacular combination of beautiful white sand stretching for miles against a backdrop of calm blue waters and an unspoilt shell sand bay.Brucie
Bruce Forsyth host of the Generation Game. Required viewing back in the 70’sYellow on Loch Broom
The signal is that the yellow blossoms have come out on the broom bush that grows by roadsides. Its bright yellow flowers appear in spring, from April to June, and smell of vanilla.Harris
Harris is the southern part of the Scottish Hebridean island of Lewis and Harris. It’s known for sandy beaches like Luskentyre and Scarista on the west coast, and for rugged mountains in the northPlayhouse
Local cinema known as the Flicks. Saturday afternoon for the kids. Saturday evening for the teenagersArnish Point
Arnish Point Lighthouse marks the entrance to Stornoway Harbour. As such, it is often referred to as Stornoway LighthouseStornoway
Stornoway is the main town of the Western Isles and the capital of Lewis and Harris in Scotland.YM
Where us teenagers spent our time. Snooker, Table Tennis, Juke Box and dancing. All we ever wanted.Wranglers and Platforms
Standard uniform for the dedicated follower of fashion back in the 60/70’sCromwell Street
The main street running through StornowayKD’s
Local Off-license. Our first quest every Friday night was to find a suitable adult to buy our carry outGrattans
If our mums didn’t have a catalogue our aunties wouldHoachin
Full of or swarming with people or thingsLochmaddy
Lochmaddy is the village capital and main settlement on the island of North Uist. It is also the terminus for the ferry to Uig on SkyeThe Smiths
The shoe shop brothers who were on the YM committee and ran the door at the dances. 50p to get inNeptune, Crown, County, Caber and Carltoan
Popular Stornoway pubs
Tilley Lamps
Oil lamp used for light before electricity was introduced to the Hebrides.Sticklebacks
Tiny translucent fresh water fishJack, Dollaig, Chico and Sandy
Popular Stornoway landlords and landladies
Coves
Stornoway slang for boyRed Admirals
The Red Admiral is a frequent visitor to gardens throughout the British Isles and one of our most well-known butterfliesLido
Popular Italian Café in StornowayThe Nicolson Institute
The best secondary school everCrush Hall
Where we all hung out in the Nicolson InstituteRenden
Popular Stornoway Café run by the Andrew an xxx xxx Cabrelli
Blones
Stornoway slang for girlSailing Away
For those of us living away this is the hardest part. The early morning sail off looking back at the town getting smaller. If we do iot in the summer and the day is decent we get a wonderful sunrise. But often times its pitch dark and blowing a gale. Like the song says it don’t get easier. I wanted to keep this final song plain and simple so its just me and my guitar with Keith and Scott on backing vocals. And only two chords.
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
The Suilven leaves the harbour
And turns itself around
I am facing west
but I am eastward bound
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
Every time I leave
I leave some part behind
And it don’t get easier
No matter how many times
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
The Island sits silent
As the boat goes sailing by
Passing all my memories
Under a tear-filled sky
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
And I don’t feel much like talking
To anyone right now
Back on the Rock
I’m not sure when we started calling Lewis The Rock. The title Back in the Day comes from the Stornoway Gazette Magazine they publish periodical. The song covers the period from my first memory through to when we first discovered alcohol, music and girls. Like we were the first generation to do so.
The first thing I remember
Is standing in a crowd
Outside our local tv store
Staring at a black and white
Flickering from dark to light
Watching a man step on the moon
La la la la
La la la la
The next thing I remember
Is sitting on a wall
Across from the Rendezvous Café
We hear the sound of pipes and drums
Marching through the town
We jump up and C pretend to play.
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
One of us who looked the part
kinda cool kinda smart
Knew someone who’d get us rum
We hid between the fishing nets
Trawler Rum and cigarettes
The burning taste lingered on our tongues.
La la la la
La la la la
We found music drink and girls
Late night radio
We all sang Maggie May
I’d walk Kathleen home from school
I could always make her laugh
Somewhere I still have her photograph.
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
Summers came and summers went
I remember all the time we spent
Just hanging out downtown
We were never on our own
We had pals from all around
Nothing ever seemed to bring us down
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
Back on the Rock
Back in the Day
What became of the Renden
Growing up we were blessed to have so many wonderful Italian and Asian businessmen and women who brought us so many things we’d not had before. We had the Capaldi’s for ice cream, the Scaramucci’s for apple pie and the Cabrelli’s for frothy coffee. My gangs meeting place was the seats along the far wall in the Renden near to the Juke Box.
What became of the Renden
The Lido and YM
I turned around & they were gone
But my memory still is strong
What became of the Juke Box
Where we played our favourite songs
With our fingers on the glass
Searching for the one we heard last
Can I have that last ham roll
And a frothy cup of coffee Andrew please
And see that Caramel log
It’s been waiting there for me
I promise I’ll not smoke
No that not a joke
Just you wait and see
And has herself been in
You know who I am talking about
Can I go back again back to the Ren Den
The way it was
D And sit with all my friends
On the tables at the end one last time
Laugh and joke about the days
Long forgotten memories of the past
With a word for those who’ve gone
But who presence linger on in us all
Can I have that last ham roll
And a frothy cup of coffee Andrew please
And see that Caramel log
It’s been waiting there for me
I promise I’ll not smoke
No that not a joke
Just you wait and see
And has herself been in
You know who I am talking about
Luskentyre
Luskentyre regularly features on lists of the best beaches in the world. For Stornowegians it meant a day trip and a place you needed a car to get to. For us without a car it was a mythical place.
Last night I dreamt that dream
The one where we’re back home
On the pure white sands at Luskintyre
You’d made corn beef sandwiches
A flask of Lipton tea
And you wore a new dress just for me
Laughing like a little girl
You ran down to the sea
Screaming as the water
Reached your knees
I caught you with my camera
the waves up to your waste
A summer smile
Lighting up your face
And if the architect above us
In his master plan
Had granted me the power
We’d still be on those sands
We lay our blankets on the ground
And towel dried our feet
Lay down In the gentle Harris heat
Then we watched the sun set
With its yellows, blues and reds
Woven by a million coloured threads
And if the architect above us
In his master plan
Had granted me the power
We’d still be on those sands
And if the architect above us
In his master plan
Had granted me the power
We’d still be on those sands
I’m Going Home
I wanted to start the album with a song about the journey home and the landmarks we see along the way. Then include a typical conversation we have when we get there. When my ma says “You’re looking well” its a kindly Stornoway phrase. However when she says “You’re looking really well” it means you’ve put on weight. The final paragraph harks to a period when I wasn’t able to get home as much as I wanted.
500 miles of open road
And 50 miles of sea
I close my eyes
I’m going home
I feel my spirits rise
With every passing mile
I close my eyes
I’m going home
CHORUS
Where old friends will stop me on the street
Smile and say you’re looking well
Hows your Ma keeping these day
And it’s good to see you back home again
I see the whitewashed walls of Ullapool
And the yellow on Loch Broom
I close my eyes
I’m going home
The sun set over Arnish Point
And the lights across the Braighe
I close my eyes
I’m going home
Where old friends will stop me on the street
Smile and say you’re looking well
Hows your Ma keeping these day
And its good to see you back home again
And if only it were that simple
And if only I could find a way
And if not for a hundred thousand reason
I’d be on my way home today
Plenty Days
Written in memory of Colin Montgomery. Although I came from Manor Park and Colin from Battery Park, we became good pals through a shared love of music. However, we lost touch as life took over. We reconnected via Facebook 45 or so years later and met up in Inverness for tea and scones promising to do it again. Then came COVID. Colin caught the virus prior to the first lockdown and passed away eight weeks later.
He was one of those people that found the hard stuff easy. Great at sports, skilful footballer and wonderful guitarist.
I’m sorry for your loss
We were pals back in the day
And I’m sorry we lost touch
When I moved away
But I’m glad we met up
On that sunny Saturday
Shared a pot tea
yarned the years away
I wish we’d done it more
We lived not far away
But I guess that’s what happens when
We think there’s plenty days
Plenty days.
Plenty days
We think we’ll always be plenty days
We do what we can
Live from day to day
So many little things
We quietly push away
Thinking there’ll be time
For us to show face
Until we realise
We’re running out of days
Plenty days. Plenty days
We think we’ll always be plenty days
Plenty days. Plenty days
We think we’ll always be plenty days
Stornoway Downtown
My memory of growing up in Stornoway is of a vibrant bustling town. Bars and pubs were so busy buying a round took a while. Stornoway was the hub and buses from all over the island arrived on a Friday and Saturday evening packed. Each pub had its iconic Bar Manager/ess who set the tone. I’ve tried to include as many as I can remember.
Do you remember
Stornoway downtown
When all the country buses
Would come from miles around
Off would pour the passengers
Onto Cromwell Street
And if you had a sweetheart
That’s where you’d meet
Do you remember
Stornoway downtown
When Jack bossed the Neptune
and Dolaig ruled the Crown
Chico ran the Charlton
Sandy poured the drams
In the lounge in the County
Which had a certain charm
Back then the town was hoachin
From the Caber to the Star
We were happy standing
Four deep at the bar
Perhaps we saw the best of her
Perhaps that’s still to come
But nothings ever bettered
Stornoway downtown
Do you remember
Stornoway downtown
Hanging out with your pals
From the Lido to the YM
Checking out the blones
Checking out the coves
Then off to the town hall
To dance to the Karltoans
Back then the town was hoachin
From the Caber to the Star
We were happy standing
Four deep at the bar
Perhaps we saw the best of her
Perhaps that’s still to come
But nothings ever bettered
Stornoway downtown
Kenny Fags and his Red Guitar
In the 60/70’s best dance halls in Stornoway were the YM, Town Hall and the Nicholson Institute. If you saw Kenny’s red guitar and Ewens drum kit onstage you knew you were on for a great night. Everyone over a certain age will have a memory of Kenny with a huge big grin on his face playing way more chords that we realised.
My island home
From a distant past
A Lifetime memories
Built to last
Friendships forged
During night less days
My island home
With its island ways
It was our time
we were its stars
When Kenny Fags
played his red guitar
And Caesar sang
Tonight will be fine
And we danced
Till morning time
My island home
With its eightsome reels
Songs sung with
A country feel
Dance hall floors
In a smokey haze
My island home
With its island ways
It was our time
we were its stars
When Kenny Fags
played his red guitar
And Caesar sang
Tonight will be fine
And we danced
Till morning time
When I Was Young
Granny’s houses were magical places. As soon as the school broke for summer hols, we were off to Lochmaddy via the Tarbert bus and Calmac ferry. I associate this journey with watching Wimbledon on the ships black and white tele. This was the time of Rod Laver and Billie Jean King. Even now the sound of a tennis ball hitting a racket brings me back.
When I was young
And summers long and warm
And everyone I loved was still alive
We’d take a boat
And sail across the sea
To Lochmaddy where my mother was born
In a stone built house
Sitting on the shore
Where the lighthouse lamp lit up my bedroom wall
And there we’d stay
All summer long
My brother my grandmother and me
This is how it was when I was young
This is how it was when I was young
We’d spend our day
Playing by the sea
Learning how to fish and how to swim
We’d look for crabs
In the rocky pools
Until it came the time to head back home
And she’d have baked a cake
In her peat fired stove
And had it ready iced there for tea
And when it got dark
She’d light the Tilley lamp
Beneath it’s golden glow she’d read to me
This is how it was when I was young
This is how it was when I was young
And now we’re old
But memories still clear
Of her stone-built house sitting on the shore
Of Tilley lamps
And the peat fire glow
And endless summer days spent long ago
This is how it was when I was young
This is how it was when I was young
Sticklebacks and Red Admirals
This song is about the Nicolson Institute, the best secondary school I ever attended and doing things for the last time. Throughout our lives we continually do small things for the last time often without knowing it. Accident or Design on TORN has a similar theme.
In the autumn of 69
When I turned 13
I caught my last Stickleback
On the banks of the River Glen
Across from the YM
I just didn’t know it then
Sticklebacks and Red Admirals
We caught them when we were young
Looking back
I wish we’d let them go
Cause they F never.
Saw their own world again
That year we learned to dance
In Campbell’s PE class
Lined up across the Assembly Hall
I grabbed an arm she grabbed mine
We tried to waltz around in time
But all we really did was a sideways walk
Sticklebacks and Red Admirals
We caught them when we were young
Looking back
I wish we’d let them go
Cause they never
Saw their own world again
Ain’t it funny those tricks
Our memory plays
Some days we loose
Others never fade away
In the Summer of 73
When I turned 17
I went to my last school dance
My last Crush Hall hug
My last cloakroom snog
Had my last fag in the bogs
Sticklebacks and Red Admirals
We caught them when we were young
Looking back
wish we’d let them go
Cause they never
Saw their own world again
Dal Mhor (Dalmore)
Looking back, I wish I’d gone home more. There have been times when for various reasons I invented excuses not to. This song is about that period. The chorus came from a visit to Dam Mhor beach with Willie Campbell and Fin Napier during a song writing retreat at Black Bay. The weather was typical for November.
Standing in the airport and I’m watching the sky
While all around people are waiting to fly
To so many places all over the world
Some leaving loved ones
Some heading home
The terminal billboard with its shimmering lights
Show the flight I want ain’t leaving tonight
So I make my way back
To where I came
And early tomorrow
I’ll try once again
When I close my eyes I’m on the cliffs at Dal Mhor
I feel the North Atlantic
I hear its angry roar
I see the ocean breakers crash onto the shore.
When I close my eyes
I’m home once more
Memories of leaving fly round my head.
Places and faces Things left unsaid
It’s been such a long time since I made it home
I’ve lived in this city
And I’m still unknown
Then the terminal billboard whispers in my ear
the flight you’re waiting for
has always been here
When I close my eyes I’m on the cliffs at Dal Mhor
I feel the North Atlantic
I hear its angry roar
I see the ocean breakers crash onto the shore.
When I close my eyes
I’m home once more
Days
Days harks back to a period in my life when time didn’t matter. Our stomachs were our watches. We spent as little time as necessary indoors and only came home when hungry or tired. I now have a cat that does the same.
There’s a cottage on the shore
Two steps up to the front door
Days I wish that I could have again
Smokey flames from a peat fire stove
Tilley lamp with a golden glow
Days I wish that I could have again
When a clock was just an ornament
Sitting idly on a shelf
And time was something we had plenty of
When childish laughter filled the air
And everyone I loved was there
Days I wish that I could have again
Summers filled with endless days
Secret places where we played
Days I wish that I could have again
We built castles in the sand
We picked berries with our hands
Days I wish that I could have again
When a clock was just an ornament
Sitting idly on a shelf
And time was something we had plenty of
When childish laughter filled the air
And everyone I loved was there
Days I wish that I could have again
Saturday Night
Does anything ever come close to that Saturday night feeling you have in your teens. This song is about a time of teleprinter football results, Pink Panther cartoons and The Generation Game. Then came the walk down town collecting your pals along the way. Ahead lay a night of underage drinking and YM dances.
Its Saturday night
Just had my tea
Coupons been busted
No holiday for me
Pink Panther is over
Here comes Brucie
But it’s the weekend
And I’ve places to be
The Playhouse is calling
So is the YM
There’s a bottle of Strongbow
In KD’s with my name
I’m wearing my wranglers
Platform’s on my feet
And a jacket from Grattans
I’m paying up each week
But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
No matter what happens
that tonight will be fine
There’s a new girl in town
Her dads runs the Crown
She’s awful pretty
Maybe she’ll be around
The YM is jumping
The Smiths are on the door
They know we’re all steaming
They’ve seen it before
But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
No matter what happens
that tonight will be fine
But I know from your eyes
and I know from your smile
No matter what happens
that tonight will be fine
Sailing Away
For those of us living away this is the hardest part. The early morning sail off looking back at the town getting smaller. If we do iot in the summer and the day is decent we get a wonderful sunrise. But often times its pitch dark and blowing a gale. Like the song says it don’t get easier. I wanted to keep this final song plain and simple so its just me and my guitar with Keith and Scott on backing vocals. And only two chords.
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
The Suilven leaves the harbour
And turns itself around
I am facing west
but I am eastward bound
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
Every time I leave
I leave some part behind
And it don’t get easier
No matter how many times
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
Sailing away
Away from my hometown
The Island sits silent
As the boat goes sailing by
Passing all my memories
Under a tear-filled sky
I am sailing away
Away from Stornoway
And I don’t feel much like talking
To anyone right now
All songs written by Norman Paterson
Produced by Keith Morrison and Willie Campbell and recorded, mixed and mastered at The Wee Studio, Dell, The Isle of Lewis
