Robyn Hitchcock

Admittedly we don’t usually do this, but beneath this introductory announcement for Mr Hitchcock’s newly peeled video for ‘Raymond and the Wires’, we’ve ripped in full Robyn’s own thoughts and commentary about the track and how the video came to be, straight from the heart of the press release. Of course descriptions such as genius and mercurial are so often bandied about that they lose their context and worth, yet Mr Hitchcock is one of a select few musical craftsmen who truly deserves those tags. A self-titled full length is about to emerge through yep roc shortly, perhaps his finest in recent memory, from it ‘Raymond and the Wires’ with idle grace breathes a wonderful wistfulness that dips between nostalgic reflection and a deeply personal introspection, at once intimate and revealing, the years peel away as a present day Hitchcock speaks to his younger self and traces back through the lineage of life, in essence a homage to his father Raymond, daintily daubed in a flowery English psych eccentricity drizzled and woozy to the blurring rub of a kaleidoscopic framing.

Over to Robyn himself……

“This video is a collage of years and Hitchcocks, assembled by Jeremy Dylan from archive trolleybus footage; from my family’s home movies; and from film he shot of me recently,” says Hitchcock. “I’m singing the song on a tram in Melbourne, Australia about a trolleybus ride I took with my late father Raymond in Reading, England in 1964. In these clips Raymond, resplendent in early 1970s porno moustache, is younger than the present-day me is now. My current self is also in there perving over some beautiful vintage trams in San Francisco. There’s a glimpse of 13- year-old me stepping out of a boat to greet my sister Fleur, who now in later life is an author and incidentally supplied Jeremy with the old family film. And 39-year-old me peers for a second from a weeping elm tree at Raymond’s wake in 1992. His favourite folk band, the Yetties from the West of England, gave us all a free show – what a night! Raymond liked a nice tune. This would probably have embarrassed him, given what a distant English family we were. But his spirit loves acknowledgement, I like to think: and I’m sure he lives through me as fully as any ghost. On ya, dad!”

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