'Live from his penthouse apartment in London's glittering East End,
'Dean Learner, club owner and publisher of high-class gentlemen's magazines,
'invites you to join him for an exclusive Man to Man.'
'Please welcome Mr Dean Learner!'
Thank you. A thousand thank-yous.
Welcome to a very special musical edition of Man to Man.
It's such a one-off that Satu's been temporarily allowed on the sofa
and has been allowed to remove her tail - again, on a temporary basis.
The tail on her costume. She's not a lizard. That wouldn't work.
Before we kick off proper, I've got a couple of bits of AOB.
AOB uno is that I'd like to extend a hand of thank
to all of you who've been so kind throughout my recent difficulties.
Now, I have been involved in a court case, but sanity prevailed
and a verdict of "accidental death” was recorded.
AOB deux. There's a promotion at Chez Deano's, my restaurant.
We're offering £3 off any whitebait meal
when you order two or more bottles of champagne.
Get on down to Chez Deano's and have yourselves a salty treat!
The usual discounts still apply for female under-21 twins.
There's a saying, "There's nowt so queer as folk." I agree - it's bad music.
Or so I thought until I met this evening's guest.
He opened my eyes and my ears
to this wonderful treasure trove of copyright-free melody.
One of the most revered folk guitarists - the legend Mr Merriman Weir.
You can edit some of this out, can't you?
We'll probably need to keep it in for running time, to be honest.
This is a welcome song.
Fire...
Sorry, I shouldn't have put the capo on.
I shouldn't have put the capo on. I usually sing this without a capo.
I could probably take it off but it'd bugger up the tuning.
I'll sing it that high. I'll sing it that high.
OK, this is a welcome song.
Fire is bright, end of day
Sit ye down on a bed of hay
Meat in the pot and open the door
Come drink my wine But don't ask for more
Cos that's all I could store
The harvest's been poor
And I've buried four
Children
Children, children Oooh.
Thank you. Thank you.
That was called Welcome Woman, To My Table Come.
I apologise if you're a man and felt left out.
I wrote it with a woman in mind, but it could be sung to a male companion,
perhaps a passing trapper
or a king disguised in peasant's clothing
or maybe a gay admirer from a neighbouring field
who decided to move in now that the man's immediate family are dead.
Take your pick. I judge not.
There are two more verses but they're far too depressing to play here.
You have to be careful when you play sad songs
because, in the wrong hands, ballads can kill.
I once played a song so sad I made a flock of geese die.
I was singing a lament for them as they flew south overhead.
Without thinking, I went from A...
...to E minor.
Then back to A, and then surprised myself with an E minor 9.
Before I knew it, they'd nose-dived into a frozen lake.
In perfect formation, that was the shocking part.
I wrote this for a friend who was struck down with a terminal illness in the late '90s.
It was a bit of a race to get this one finished but, um...
God willing, I got it ready to play to him on his death bed.
Sadly, at that point, he died.
So he never got to hear the full version.
Which is probably a good thing,
as it was more of a critique than a celebration, really.
This next song's about lost love.
Literally a lost love. She went missing in a garden maze one May Day past.
It was one I designed, actually, during a particularly self-destructive period of my life.
It had man traps.
It's called Loving You.
I recorded the original completely drunk
and I'm afraid that's the only version I remember.
Oooh!
Oo-oo-ooh
Oooh
Loving you
Oooh
Ooooh oo-ooh
Oooh, loving you
Ooo-oo-oo-ooh
Ooo-oo-ooh
Oo-ooh, loving you
Loving you
Loving you, oo-ooh
Oooh!
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Actually, sorry. I shouldn't really be practising. Sorry.
No. That's your call, Merriman. You're an artist.
Set ended slightly sooner than I'd expected.
Shall I come over for the talk now?
It's barely worth it. We've only got a minute before the break, so...
This is awkward.
Um...
I've got nothing for this. Nothing.
I could catch up on some admin, but it doesn't really seem the appropriate time.
I tell you what, could we break now and have a longer second half?
This is dead time. That's clear.
OK. Right...
Not yet!
After the break, Merriman will join me for a conflab on the couch.
Now.
Good evening and bien kommen back to Man to Man.
Satu's behind the bar and I'm joined by legendary folk guitarist Merriman Weir.
Thank you.
I loved the set.
Thank you very much.
I love folk music. I love it, love it, love it.
Who else do you like?
Who I like, other than yourself, I'd have to say David Gray.
- Have you heard of him? - No.
Really good, mellow stuff.
I wouldn't put him on in the car cos I find myself drifting off.
I daren't overtake cos I'm liable to just give up halfway through.
You are one of...
Do you mind canning the twang?
- What? Not play? - Yeah.
It's becoming a bit of a barrier.
OK, I'll put it on the stand.
You're watching Man to Man
with my special guest Merriman Weir.
Sorry, I can't actually rush.
I've got a pacemaker, which is quite temperamental.
I came back from a festival last year, it was stuck on samba.
I understand. Now, Merriman.
Merriman. Merriman Weir. It's an interesting name.
It's not your first name, though.
No, I started off as Heather Buck Hare Bredder.
I did one album as Tristan Woeman,
which was an album of medieval ploughing ballads.
Actually, when I tour some parts of the country, I'm still known as...
You were huge in the '70s. "Folk" huge. You weren't popular.
You were "respected".
Since then, it's been a rather sorry tale of hitching, dossing,
busking on the Underground and guitar tuition.
What went wrong?
Nothing went wrong, actually. I've never been interested in making it.
Clearly.
I just play music. I don't really care about money.
That's why I was so pleased to become your manager.
Under the Dean Learner 30-year management agreement,
Merriman is guaranteed a weekly wage,
minus expenses and postage, which means he doesn't have to worry
about royalties and publishing, rights and all of that boring stuff.
I hold all those things on trust for him via Deano's Records and their shareholders.
You've even got enough for the odd flagon of mead.
Thank you.
I'm intolerably excited.
We stand on the crest of the re-release of your seminal album, Gallows Man.
Yeah.
Sorry to interrupt... me. I'm interrupting myself now! What is a seminal album?
Does that mean...? Is that spermy?
Is that a spermy album?
Because that would fit into the whole theme of Gallows Man.
Apparently, when you're hanged, you get a reminder of the good life!
I've seen a lot of corpses online.
It is sick. It is sick, the internet.
You just type in "corpses plus boners" into Google.
You'll get an absolute eyeful.
I was so depressed I took the rest of the day off.
It really got me down, actually.
Sorry. Oh, yes. Your album, the re-release thereof.
It's a bit misleading to call it a re-release.
The original was a non-release. It sold eight copies.
The cover is quite striking. It's you on a hilltop.
That's Hampstead Heath.
- And you're hanging... - From a rope from a tree, yeah.
Inside, there's you...
- In a gibbet. - ..In a gibbet,
trussed up like a yuletide goose with children standing round.
Do you think that might have affected album sales?
It's possible, although I blame the production.
Who produced it?
I did. I wanted a rural feel to the album.
I insisted on recording it in my garden, which backed onto the A12.
Most of the album's interrupted by traffic.
In fact, halfway through side two, you can hear a major accident.
One track's just honking.
Has that been removed by the re-mastering process?
No. If anything, it's louder.
We are fortunate because we've tracked down an archive clip
of Merriman performing the title track.
Let's take a look.
At eight o'clock, Me true love said
A cock will crow in my barn hay
To her with pack from battle back I journeyed home for many a day
At nine o'clock she me forsook And docked my cousin in her brook
I swiped me pistols from me pack
And told him I sought satisfac... tion
At ten o'clock we took our stand And wrathful did I strike the band
At battle's drum me cousin called I'll have your bits on pistol balls
Eleven devils rang the bell The day I shot that whore to hell
Her leering prince, I blew him too And bade his dogs "Come form a queue"
At 12 o'clock, the judge he said Ye hang, ye bastard, till ye dead
So traveller hear me warn in plain Don't shoot four people in the brain.
See what I mean?
You can just hear a tiny bit of traffic.
I couldn't hear a thing, Merriman.
Then again, I can barely hear. I've got tinnitus.
Like a constant buzzing. "Eeeee"!
It sounds less sarcastic than that.
Which I got, ironically, at a Def Leppard concert.
I went backstage and said, "I went deaf at your Def Leppard concert!"
They said "It's spelled D-E-F." I said "Come on! Give me something!"
Where do these soft rock bell ends get off?
How did they come up with that name?
"We want a name that denotes sleekness and power.
"We should name ourselves after a wild cat.
"We've also got a sensitive side, we should give this wild cat a disability.
"What about Rheumatic Panther? I'm not so sure.
"How about a hearing impediment?
"Deaf Leppard? But remove one of the vowels or it'd be a stupid name!"
Do you know how they spell Leopard?
Benders!
That said, let's get back to your album,
which has a very interesting recording history behind it.
Yeah. It's basically referred to as my post-accident album.
It comes from an event that happened as I was travelling home
from the Cambridge Folk Festival.
It was very late at night.
I was driving on the motorway with Sally, my girlfriend at the time, she sang bass.
We were driving along very late at night. I was growing tireder at the wheel.
So I pulled over into the lay-by to make a baby.
And we wound down the window...
- Let her legs out! - Yup.
And we were dragged from the car and lynched.
Lynched? Who by?
Folk fans.
With fans like that, who needs enemies?
You don't. They're the bloody enemies.
The fans would be.
It was actually quite serious.
I am sorry.
They hung us from a tree by my guitar strings.
That incident led to my break-up with Sally.
She didn't think I'd handled the situation very well.
Right. How come?
They were hanging her and the strings snapped so I recommended a heavier gauge.
You just tried to be helpful.
Now, under the Dean Learner 30-year management agreement,
- you have to do 800 gigs a year. - Yeah.
So we have created a Man to Man overnight bag. You've got everything you need.
A twin pack of Gobblers jumbo rubbers, toothpicks, mouthwash,
lube, talc, toilet paper, cuff links, baby lotion,
Fishermen's Friends, shoe polish, rope, gaffer tape, disinfectant,
and a mini champagne bottle and ice bucket.
We've even chucked in a packet of guitar strings.
Not heavy gauge?
I think they're normal.
- I meant, you know... - What?
- I was just making a light joke. - Right.
- What? - I usually play light gauge.
They're not heavy gauge in case I get hung by them!
Right! Yeah. Sorry. No. That is funny. I should have laughed.
Yeah. OK.
I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll laugh now and we'll cut it in later.
You don't have to, seriously.
It's the least I can do. OK.
Heavy gauge! What are you like? Stop it!
Pick up the Gallows Man album - one of the best releases of the year. A joy!
I know a thing or two about a pleasurable release!
It's got a nice new cover. I think we can see that.
That just about wraps up the show.
Thanks to my super guest, Merriman Weir, for talking to me, Man to Man.
Thank you very much.
And to thank you very much. Thank you very much.
We'll play out with the final track from Gallows Man.
Where are you going?
Please welcome, once again, Mr Merriman Weir.
The concept of Gallows Man was quite a simple one.
I wanted the record to be played continuously until the listener's death by suicide.
The record company wouldn't let me put that on the sleeve note,
for space reasons, more than anything.
This is from the second side, a song called Die Die.
Die die
Di-da-dum die die
Die die
Di-da-dum die die
Die die
Di-da-dum die die
Die
Do-die-do-dum
Di-da-dum die die
Do-die-do-dum
Ski-da-dum die die
Do-die-do-dum
Di-da-dum die die
Die
Wss-ktch, wss-ktch
Kill yourself.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.