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Justin Hayward - Lovely To See You (live on tour, 2019, w/the ghost of his younger self + article)
Cross-post from the Lounge -- https://democraticunderground.com/10181682768https://www.graceland.com/elvis-news/posts/legendary-uk-singer-voice-of-the-moody-blues-justin-hayward-brings-fall-tour-to-the-guest-house-thea
https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/justin-hayward/2019/soundstage-at-graceland-memphis-tn-739d1efd.html
EDITING to link to and excerpt a really interesting Variety article/interview about that tour and Justin's reflections on his long career:
https://variety.com/2019/music/news/justin-hayward-moody-blues-interview-1203312300/
-snip-
What do you play on your current tour?
I do songs that I’ve written — deeper cuts with the Moodies, some solo things, some things that I never got to do with the Moodies that just never worked in a loud situation. This show is a real joy for me. I’m working with three young musicians who love this music [guitarist Mike Dawes, multi-instrumentalist Julie Ragins, and flutist Karmen Gould] and who are a great support to me. I’ve brought my acoustic guitars out from home. In some ways it’s a lot truer to the records, because the records were mixed with acoustic guitar and mellotron and keyboards up front, and drums and bass just maybe a little bit further back. But of course, on stage, that was always difficult to do with the Moodies, with two drummers, and everything had to rise in level, and it was all electric. So this is more like the original way of looking at it, which is nice.
-snip-
Did you always feel confident as a singer?
No. I can’t say that I ever did, really. I never thought of myself as a singer. My first job was with a rock ’n’ roll singer called Marty Wilde, just playing guitar for him when I was 17 when I started. He told me then that just to survive in the business you have to create your own identity, and the best way of doing that is through songs. So I really came to the Moodies with the purpose of getting my songs done. I don’t find it easy to listen to my own voice. I’m not really a singer — I’m a guy who does these songs. I was lucky enough, with “Forever Autumn,” to get chosen for that.
-snip-
Has your relationship to your voice, or your facility with it, changed over the years?
Well, it’s certainly changed over the years as I’ve learnt to try and control it, and to not really push it. In the early days I would just go for anything, and sing very badly. I was always pretty stoned on all those records as well, so that added to the emotion of some of it. I’d sometimes get a bit too emotionally involved in it, and sometimes that was a good thing, sometimes it wasn’t so good. It just got a bit soppy. The things I’ve written since the ’80s, I’ve just played it always a little bit safer — stayed within my comfort range. Somebody asked me the other day, “How’d you look after your voice?” And I can’t think of anything to say. I’ve always considered my voice looks after me [laughs]. I was extremely lucky to have the physiology, or makeup, or structure of bits in my larynx, that… people never knew my name, but I would be places, and they’d say, “Oh, that’s that Moody Blues guy.” People could recognize the voice, and that’s a very lucky thing to have as a singer.
When are the times you feel your 72 years?
Well, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is sometimes weak. I’ve had my problems and issues, and some things come along and hit you, and you realize that things aren’t quite the same. I wish I had the hands that I had when I was younger. As you get older, the one thing you look at is your hands, and you can see yourself aging through your hands. It’s curious. We look at our faces and we think, Oh, I’ve got a bit less hair or something, but I’m kind of still the same guy — because it’s a slow process. But I remember, my mother — with my brother and I, when we were both little — we’d go and visit all of these elderly relatives, and sit quietly on the settee, and just look around the room and try and be good, and hope that we’d get back a penny at the end of it. And I remember always looking at these old peoples’ hands.
-snip-
What do you play on your current tour?
I do songs that I’ve written — deeper cuts with the Moodies, some solo things, some things that I never got to do with the Moodies that just never worked in a loud situation. This show is a real joy for me. I’m working with three young musicians who love this music [guitarist Mike Dawes, multi-instrumentalist Julie Ragins, and flutist Karmen Gould] and who are a great support to me. I’ve brought my acoustic guitars out from home. In some ways it’s a lot truer to the records, because the records were mixed with acoustic guitar and mellotron and keyboards up front, and drums and bass just maybe a little bit further back. But of course, on stage, that was always difficult to do with the Moodies, with two drummers, and everything had to rise in level, and it was all electric. So this is more like the original way of looking at it, which is nice.
-snip-
Did you always feel confident as a singer?
No. I can’t say that I ever did, really. I never thought of myself as a singer. My first job was with a rock ’n’ roll singer called Marty Wilde, just playing guitar for him when I was 17 when I started. He told me then that just to survive in the business you have to create your own identity, and the best way of doing that is through songs. So I really came to the Moodies with the purpose of getting my songs done. I don’t find it easy to listen to my own voice. I’m not really a singer — I’m a guy who does these songs. I was lucky enough, with “Forever Autumn,” to get chosen for that.
-snip-
Has your relationship to your voice, or your facility with it, changed over the years?
Well, it’s certainly changed over the years as I’ve learnt to try and control it, and to not really push it. In the early days I would just go for anything, and sing very badly. I was always pretty stoned on all those records as well, so that added to the emotion of some of it. I’d sometimes get a bit too emotionally involved in it, and sometimes that was a good thing, sometimes it wasn’t so good. It just got a bit soppy. The things I’ve written since the ’80s, I’ve just played it always a little bit safer — stayed within my comfort range. Somebody asked me the other day, “How’d you look after your voice?” And I can’t think of anything to say. I’ve always considered my voice looks after me [laughs]. I was extremely lucky to have the physiology, or makeup, or structure of bits in my larynx, that… people never knew my name, but I would be places, and they’d say, “Oh, that’s that Moody Blues guy.” People could recognize the voice, and that’s a very lucky thing to have as a singer.
When are the times you feel your 72 years?
Well, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is sometimes weak. I’ve had my problems and issues, and some things come along and hit you, and you realize that things aren’t quite the same. I wish I had the hands that I had when I was younger. As you get older, the one thing you look at is your hands, and you can see yourself aging through your hands. It’s curious. We look at our faces and we think, Oh, I’ve got a bit less hair or something, but I’m kind of still the same guy — because it’s a slow process. But I remember, my mother — with my brother and I, when we were both little — we’d go and visit all of these elderly relatives, and sit quietly on the settee, and just look around the room and try and be good, and hope that we’d get back a penny at the end of it. And I remember always looking at these old peoples’ hands.
-snip-
Much more at the link, including Justin musing, as he did in that video clip, on how much time he's spent contemplating the ghost of his younger self.
And he talks about aging as a performer, and possibly needing to retire someday if he can't do it any more, and he says that prospect is "frightening because I haven’t done anything else" and he says he might disappear into a library then, or even into a monastery, though he's laughing about that.
And that part of the interview, about fear of not being able to play and sing any more when he hasn't done anything else, inevitably reminded me of Golden Earring's George Kooymans and his battle with ALS and how he can no longer play guitar and is wondering how he'll continue writing songs: https://democraticunderground.com/10181674319
And I realized Justin reminds me of George in some other ways. Both are very modest about their own talent. Both married young and managed to make that marriage last a lifetime, which might also be part of the reason they both managed to avoid self-destruction with drugs, though they experimented with drugs. Both signed disadvantageous contracts when young and not sufficiently wary of the industry (Justin's for his songs, Golden Earring's giving way too much of their earnings to management for many years).
But the main resemblance is the focus on music since childhood, and not knowing what to do if that's ever taken away.
Justin isn't having to deal with that crisis yet, thank God, and I hope he never will. I wish so much that George wasn't having to deal with it.