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Remembering John (Martyn)

Phil Shackleton
Phil Shackleton website

I first met John one sunny afternoon in 1977. I was watching tv in the living room at Hamish Imlachs place in Motherwell Scotland. The door crashed open and in walked this tall hyper young guy in his late 20's,

John Martyn Dies Aged 60

Colin Irwin
Daily Telegraph

British musician John Martyn has died aged 60. Our writer recalls a prickly encounter and examines his legend and his legacy.

Singer and guitarist John Martyn had a reputation that always preceded him. A rebel in all senses, he railed against every musical cliché and genre straitjacket they tried to pin on him – annihilating the genre barriers between folk, blues, jazz, rock and avant-garde as he bullishly rejected attempts to tame him and mould him into a sellable product.

The Day John Martyn Played For Us In Prison

Erwin James
The Guardian music blog

In 'Paranoia City', the hellhole that was our home, Martyn's heartfelt concert made us feel human again.

The news of John Martyn's passing took me back to a packed gymnasium in what, at the time, was one of the most dangerous high security prisons in the country. HMP Long Lartin, a festering wound of a jail nestled in the heart of the beautiful Vale of Evesham, Worcs, held men serving some of the longest sentences in the system.

John Martyn: A Music Legend Remembered

Will Hodgkinson
The Guardian Music Blog

Throughout his life he kept searching for new musical forms in which to express essential themes: love, loneliness, and what it means to be alive

At the 2008 Mojo awards, where he accepted the Les Paul Award for being a phenomenal guitarist, an inspirational figure and an all-round cool guy, John Martyn gave sage, slightly slurred advice to future generations. "The power is definitely in the music, not the people," he said. "The music is the cool bit."

State Of Grace

Richard Smirke
The Big Issue North

"I was something of a hoodlum, yes," laughs a severely understated John Martyn when asked about his wild, infamously debauched past, which for decades encompassed chronic alcohol and drug addiction, endless womanising and a constant supply of headaches, heartache and, presumably, gargantuan hangovers, for everyone in his life.

Is music even worth it? Peter contemplates

Peter Valelly
The Mac Weekly

One song: more musical than another?

This is the quandary my listening habits have put me in lately. Recently (well, really, for the last year or so), I've been fascinated and enraptured by the song "May You Never" by British folk singer John Martyn. Included on his 1973 album "Solid Air," the song (later covered by Eric Clapton, though I've never heard his version) is an embarrassment of melodic and rhythmic riches. Gently loping finger-picked guitar sets the song's addictively ambling tempo. Martyn's careful use of dynamics creates an awesomely percussive sound, soft and folky yet ferociously mobile, each acoustic pluck tickling the ear.

The pros and cons of JOHN MARTYN

Aaron Lavery
Metro

Pro: One of the most influential and innovative folk musicians of the 1970s, Martyn introduced elements of jazz and blues into his sound: without his classic albums Bless The Weather and Solid Air, it's arguable that there'd be no Tunng, Four Tet or even Portishead.

Con: He's also responsible for the plague of guitar-tapping, loop-pedal-wielding idiots who batter our ears in the name of folk. Thanks, Mr Martyn, for Newton Faulkner.

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