Since the passing of David Cousins I've been thinking a lot, mostly about how much I owed to him. 

 

So this is about a pivotal moment in my life, the minutae of which I've rarely shared. 

 

 

I wrote songs from an early age. 

I played piano and guitar from age 6.

 

Around age 14 I think I began to harbour notions of being a sort of UK Jackson Browne.. 

 

But at age 16 I underwent what my GP called a nervous breakdown.

 

To amplify the details would be unnecessary, not least as many reading this may have experienced worse.

But I was prone to prolonged anxiety attacks, unable to go to school, unable for long spells to get out of the house.

 

Music was my release and my sustaining force.

 

Listening.

Absorbing albums, 

Then writing - and very primitively demo-ing - song after song after song of my own.

 

I was obsessed. 

I was somehow at once terrified of the world, angry at it, yet desperate to be out in it.

I was only confident when I had a guitar in my hands.

 

My parents, worried sick, tried anything to steer me through, push me out of withdrawal.

Sensing it was the one thing that I might go for, they took me out to a gig. 

Then another gig.

Soon I went to one without them, taking a mate. Then another one.

 

Now, as a teenager The Strawbs had become one of my bands. 

I've always loved it when rock and folk meet and cross-pollinate: 

most of my early heroes were American,  but I heard “Lay Down” and “Benedictus”, 

I bought “Grave New World”, and loved them. 

 

I loved Dave Cousins’ lyrics, bought the earlier albums and learned every word and chord.

 

Then The Strawbs were suddenly touring.

They were playing Liverpool (very near to us)

then Stoke ( even nearer)

 

I chose Liverpool, Royal Court Theatre, on the Saturday.

Strawbs were hosting a largely new line-up and showcased “Hero And Heroine” their new album.

They didn’t necessarily play all the songs I’d hoped for, but I loved them.

 

And I waited at the stage door after the show, where eventually the band came out. 

I made a beeline for Dave, sheepishly said hi and told him I was an aspiring songwriter and how much his work meant to me.

 

I then asked him about a song of his called “Blue Angel”, a (then) barely noticed album track in his catalogue.

Dave’s eyes suddenly lit up and he said “Thats my favourite song I’ve written - and no-one ever asks about it”.

I probably blushed, and we then chatted for about 10 minutes, after which I bounced back to my parents car, walking on  air. 

It was the happiest I’d been for probably 2 years, a fact not lost on my folks.

 

2 days later my Mum asked me if I wanted to go to the Strawbs Stoke gig that night. 

I’m sure I took all of 5 seconds to say “Oh go on then”.

 

We arrived 30 minutes before the support was due on. 

 

Now, talk about synchronicity. 

Talk about sliding doors, micro-moments on which the axis of a life can tilt.

 

As my Dad dropped me off in the car park behind the venue I suddenly saw 5 guys step out of a cab and head towards what was clearly the stage door. It was (you guessed) the band themselves.

I hailed them very cheekily and Dave turned round and - the wonder!! - recognised me.

 

“It’s you again” he said - and ushered me in. 

 

Into the dressing room..

With the band!

 

I talked with Dave some more, and also with the others, especially lovely bassist Chas Cronk.

I was quietly pinching myself and absorbing every second, while also aware that I shouldn’t outstay my welcome.

 

But then beers were passed around..

Then guitars were passed around, for warming up, tuning etc 

 

“Want to play?” asked Dave.

He passed me his Ovation.

 

I took it unbelievingly and for some reason, without blinking I started to play the intro to “Down By The Sea” a Strawbs anthem of that time, which I had off pat. 

The dressing room went momentarily quiet, then the band all grinned and cheered.

I finished the intro.

 

“Cmon then” they prompted - “You must sing too?”.

 

So I sang.

 

I delivered the first three lines nervously and very ‘straight’.

 

Then, on a mad whim that I still can barely believe, I went into a Dave Cousins impression (and I’d long since perfected one) for the next few lines.

 

There was a moments silence, then the room caught fire, there was whooping, hollering and much laughter. 

I glanced to my right and mercifully Dave himself was clapping his hands and laughing his head off. 

3 band members joined in on guitars and we finished an impromptu version of a song that an hour later the Strawbs would play to around 1,000 people.

 

After the song finished I knew the night couldn’t get any better and that I needed to leave soon.

However I re-iterated to Dave that I wrote my own songs and that I’d love to play him some sometime.

Without missing a beat he ripped a piece of paper off the setlist and scribbled down his home address. 

He pressed it into my hand. 

“Send me songs” he said. 

 

The above happened in March.

 

One afternoon in mid August our home phone rang, and it was for me.

 

“Nigel - it’s Dave Cousins” said the voice.

 

Which of my mates was playing this dumb joke?

 

 I couldn’t imagine, though a couple of them knew that I’d sent a tape to the Strawbs a few months earlier after a misguided attempt to crash their dressing room, and that I’d heard nothing back, months having passed. 

 

“Who is this?” I said 

“Dave Cousins” came the answer.

 

Suddenly realisation hit that this didn’t sound like any of my mates.

 

Then the memories really began.

 

A meeting, an offer of a publishing contract.

 

Weeks spent in Devon demoing songs. 

Dave driving us round the county, conversations about music, life, philosophy the lot. 

 

He was warm, generous spirited, kind, funny - but never slow to tell me when I was getting it wrong. 

 

Days in the famous Sound Techniques studio with Dave producing.

 

A whole month watching Strawbs record the  "Deep Cuts" album at the Manor .. 

hanging with rock royalty who dropped in to see the band work. (I'll share more on this one day) 

Weeks travelling with the band to shows in the UK. 

 

My life turned on its head. 

 

And then time passed, the UK musical climate changed, Strawbs were forced to work overseas more and my contact with Dave lessened.

 

Things drifted, but we remained on good terms.

and when I began releasing music in the 80s Dave was one of my strongest supporters. 

 

Lives changed.

 

And I long moved on from the idea of being the UKs Jackson Browne, but a different music career emerged for me. 

Production, co writing, collaborating - all of which it turned out I enjoyed at least as much as being the guy in the centre.

 

Things took time,  but when chances came I took them.

 

And whenever I've had a song on the radio, in a soundtrack, or in the charts, or a cover version or a production success I always knew the part Dave had  played, the path he'd help forge for me.  

 

So when I read the recent news I had to write this. 

 

Without Dave Cousins my life would've been incredibly different .. he believed in me when few did, and opened up a world to me that I knew I belonged in. 

 

It's great to see so many people celebrating the music.

Me I just wanted to join the chorus, and celebrate the man. 

 

Thanks David. May you rest.