15th January 1923 saw the birth of the wonderfully eccentric and very funny Ivor Cutler.
I was first introduced to the wacky world of Ivor Cutler when I was in my late teens, my best friend;s mother had moved down to Teeside in the North of England and we used to hitch hike down the A1 onto the A19 into Stckton, we would race each other down, happy days, I sadly lost him to a drugs overdose a few years later in a flat we shared in Edinburgh.
Anyway, Ruth, my mate's mum had a wonderfulrecord collection, much of it were the country classics from years ago, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, Jim Reeves and the wonderful Kris Kristofferson. While thumbing through them I found, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, Vol. 2, and asked about it, "Oh you'll love this" he said slipping the vinyl from the sleeve and onto ther turntable. Thisv was when the alternative comedians were beginning to make their mark, Willie and I had similar tastes in comedy. After listening to it, laughing at the nonsensical humour I asked asbout Volume 1, there isn't one I was dissapointed to hear, but it actually made sense in the strange world Ivor invented.
Born Isadore Cutler in Govan, Glasgow, into a middle-class Jewish family of Eastern European descent. His father Jack Moris Cutler was a wholesale jeweller and had premises at 85 Queen Street. He cited his childhood as the source of his artistic temperament, recalling a sense of displacement when his younger brother was born: "Without that I would not have been so screwed up as I am, and therefore not as creative." And creative he was!
Ivor was educated at the Shawlands Academy.[4] In 1939 Cutler was evacuated to Annan. He joined the Royal Air Force as a navigator in 1942 but was soon grounded for "dreaminess", apparently more interested in looking at the clouds from the cockpit window than locating a flight path, and worked as a storeman. After the war he studied at Glasgow School of Art and became a schoolteacher.
Working at a school in Paisley, however, did not agree with Cutler. He hated discipline that required the strap, having received it more than 200 times himself, and in a dramatic gesture took the instrument from his desk, cut it into pieces and dispensed them to the class.
Leaving Scotland was, he claimed, "the beginning of my life". He settled in London for a time teaching music, dance, drama and poetry to 7- to 11-year-olds. Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in on of his classrooms.
His dour recordings bely his existence growing up in Glasgow and seeing his peers arriving at school with bare feet - a fact which, he later claimed, helped form his leftwing political views, aged five - appeared in his hilarious writings, Life in a Scotch Sitting Room Volume 2. With lines such as "Voiding bowels in those days was unheard of. People just kept it in," he used a string of fantastical untruths to expose the reality of his life and the Spartan - and sometimes sadistic - Scottish existence.
He also taught for a time at A S Neil's Summerhill school. Dubbed a hippy academy where a different approach to education was fostered, Summerhill was run with rules agreed between staff and pupils, and the premise was to educate the whole person. This alternative philosophy appealed to Cutler. He lived in the grounds of the school. Ivor married for a time, but his parenting skills did not go down too well with his then wife, they had two sons, he sent one, on his first day at school wearing a kilt, I can see that going down well in England! His son remembers his father once taking him fake fishing,taking him out in the street, with a stick and bit of string and a fork tied on the end dangling in a puddle, being his fishing line, he also says "I couldn't say I was pleased when he felt the need to walk down the street with a carpet sample in place of a tie."
During the late 50's and into the 60's he mixed his teaching with that of entertainment, managing to secure a slot on Acker Bilk Show and Late Night Line-Up. On one such appearance he was spotted by Paul McCartney, who invited Cutler to appear in the Beatles' film Magical Mystery Tour where he played the bus conductor Buster Bloodvessel, and yes the lead singer of Bad Manners took his name from this and was also a fan of Cutler.
Through music, poetry and children’s books the songwriter, poet and “unjoiner” of thoughts perfected a brand of eccentric mischief that made him a favourite of many.
His absurdist songs – sung in dour Glaswegian tones with a wheezing harmonium for company – were an ever-present on John Peel’s radio shows, second only in rotation to The Fall. His darkly whimsical eye can be seen in contemporary British artists like David Shrigley and Martin Creed. And yet Cutler remains something of a marginal figure, known only to a devoted few.
For the latter part of his career, Cutler lived on his own in a flat on Parliament Hill Fields, north London, which he found by placing an ad in the New Statesman saying "Ivor Cutler seeks room near Heath. Cheap!". There he would receive visitors, and his companion Phyllis King, in a reception room filled with clutter, pictures and curios, including his harmonium, some ivory cutlery (a pun, of course) and a wax ear stapled to the wall with six-inch nails - proof of his dedication to the Noise Abatement Society, because of which he forbade his audience ever to whistle in appreciation at his work. The bicycle was his preferred mode of transport, its cow-horn handlebars in the sit-up-and-beg position in line with his Alexander technique practice.
He could quote from Homer, taught himself Chinese and was in the habit of frequenting Soho's Chinatown, where he could display his knowledge - although, typically, he chose Chinese above Japanese because the textbooks were cheaper. With the onset of old age he was increasingly worried about losing his memory, given that his father and brother had both developed Alzheimer's disease. It was a fear that was to be tragically fulfilled. He retired from the stage at the age of 82.
His main champion in the late 70's and 80's John Peel once remarked that Cutler was probably the only performer whose work had been featured on Radio 1, 2, 3 and 4.
Ivor Cutler died after a massive stroke on March 3rd 2006 aged 83.
I could no doubt find many stories about Ivor online but will give you some of his own whimsical word instead, first up is some wise advice from Mr Cutler.
5 Wise Saws
1. Do not kick a grocer
on the leg.
2. If you kick a grocer
on the leg, make sure
it’s not a green grocer.
3. If you throw a ball,
it moves in the air.
4. You can not erase a
love letter with a
nipple, no matter how
rubbery.
5. If you empty your bowels
at night, a shepherd
will have a red face
in the morning.
Life in a Scotch Sitting Room, Vol. 2. Episode 6.
Scotland gets its brains from the herring,’ said Grandpa, and we all nodded our heads with complete incomprehension. Sometimes, for a treat, we got playing with their heads; glutinous bony affairs, without room for brains, and a look of lust on their narrow soprano jaws.
The time I lifted the lid of the midden on a winter night, and there, a cool blue gleam – herring heads . . . Other heads do not gleam in the dark. So perhaps Grandpa was right.
To make sure we ate the most intelligent herring, he fished the estuary. Planted a notice, ‘Literate herring this way!‘ below the water-line at the corner where it met the sea. The paint for the notice was made of crushed heads. Red-eyed herring, sore from reading, would round the corner, read the notice and sense the estuary water, bland and eye-easing. A few feet brought them within the confining friendliness of his manilla net and a purposeful end.
There was only one way to cook it: a deep batter of porridge left from breakfast was patted round and it was fed on to the hot griddle athwart the coal fire. In seconds, a thick aroma leaned around and bent against the walls. We lay down and dribbled on the carpet. Also, the air was fresher. Time passed. In exactly twenty-five minutes the porridge cracked, and juice steamed through with a glad fizz. We ate the batter first to take the edge off our appetites, so that we could eat the herring with respect. Which we did, including the bones.
After supper, assuming the herring to have worked, we were asked questions. In Latin, Greek and Hebrew, we had to know the principal parts of verbs. In Geography, the five main glove-manufacturing towns in the Midlands, and in History, the development of Glasgow’s sewage system.
There’s nothing quite like a Scotch education. One is left with an irreparable debt. My head is full of irregular verbs still.
7 notes
·
View notes