Tag: Kevin Coyne

It’s 10pm in the NOP Office and Paul has vey kindly stayed back to help me craft the perfect song to woo the perfect woman.

“Rule one,” he asserts. He can be quite assertive when he puts his mind to it, can Paul I thought. “Kevin Coyne never sang pretty. He growled, he cracked, he groaned. His songs were the sound of a man trying to wring meaning out of a damp Tuesday in Derby.”

“I can groan!” I’m cheered up already.

“Not theatrically!” he’s now insistent. “Authentically.”

“And the difference is…?” I’m already feeling out of my depth.

“One is pain. The other is you. Rule two: Coyne wrote about people, not abstractions. No metaphors about “brand ecosystems” or “emotional synergy.”

“Right. No synergy. No ecosystems.” I cross them out of my notebook discreetly.

“And rule three: Deep down, Kevin Coyne was tender. A bruised tenderness.
Not your usual “Federer of Feelings” theatrics.

I nod solemnly. “I can bruise tenderly if I have to.”

“God help us.” Paul starts pacing the floor, looking this way and that, on the search for something, I’m not quite sure what.

“Cigar?” I proffer. He looks at me in a strangulated kind of way and looks to the ceiling.

Want to know why Maja is so struck by the work of Kevin Coyne? Just take a look here!

It’s the NOP Office, late Monday afternoon. Paul is sketching brooding human forms as per. Somewhere, the kettle moos. I feel I have no other option than to strike a conversation with Paul, who may inadvertently provide me with the key to Maja’s heart.

“Paul? Paul? Have you got a moment? It’s a matter of… emotional urgency.” I begin, not wishing to impose myself too much.

Paul doesn’t look up but mutters,”Nothing good ever begins with those words.”

I plough on regardless.

“You know Kevin Coyne, right? Derby College of Art? Emotional rawness? Husky transcendence? Singing like a man wrestling poetry out of the working class Midlands?

Paul looked up slowly.

“Julian… I knew Kevin Coyne. I didn’t just know the music — I knew the man.
We once drew the same life model and both of us cried afterwards.”

“Exactly! That’s the energy I need.” I think I’m winning him around.

Paul puts pencil his down.

“Why?”

“Because Maja has taken a liking to him. And I,” I place my hand on my chest, perhaps overly dramatically but I thought it was worth a go. “I must meet her where she musically lives.”

“So you want to write a Kevin Coyne song? You? Julian… Kevin wrote about pain. About brokenness. About people who’ve stared too long at the cigarette end of life. You go home and steam your face with eucalyptus.

“But I can channel pain!” I protested. “I’ve known heartbreak… I’m knowing heartbreak right now! Just last week Maja ignored my Spotify playlist suggestions.”

“That’s not heartbreak. That’s mercy.”

“But you must help me, Paul, please! You went to art college with him! You understand the soul of Kevin Coyne! Teach me to sound rugged and emotionally unavailable!”

He sighed.

“Julian… you are neither rugged nor emotionally unavailable. You are…a labrador in a polo shirt.

“But a labrador… with a guitar?”

He sighed reluctantly.

“Fine. If it’ll stop you hovering like a narrative mosquito… I’ll help.

Success! At last! With Kevin by my side – albeit in the shape of a proxy Paul – where could I go wrong?

Want to know why Maja is so struck by the work of Kevin Coyne? Just take a look here!