Like many others, our discovery of Bill Fay’s work was via that much celebrated tale where Jim O’Rourke had played Fay’s music to Wilco‘s Jeff Tweedy. Presumably, O’Rourke with his producer’s hat on, had felt the English singer-song writer’s work, had a quality that may prove inspirational during the recording of their highly regarded 2002 album – Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
Without any exaggeration, this moment went far in completely reframing Bill Fay from an overlooked ‘also ran’ into a thoroughly deserved spotlighting of an exceptional artist, with a small and fragmented but truly stunning discography.
Before I’d heard a note, I’d quickly purchased Bill Fay (1970), Time Of The Last Persecution (1971) and a collection of rarities and demos – From The Bottom Of The Old Grandfather Clock (2004). All three albums have remained seared into my brain, every twist and turn remembered in detail, and spun regularly ever since.
The announcement a few days ago that Fay had passed away at the age of 81, a sad reminder of how much this humble and quiet man’s work had affected me.
Fay’s trajectory through music was a bumpy one. His debut album Bill Fay was to have been quickly and simply recorded. However, Mike Gibbs, having heard Fay’s initial piano versions decided to arrange these songs adding a 27-piece orchestra. Amazingly, in just two studio days, the whole thing was somehow immaculately captured.
The sleeve featured Fay in Hyde park, apparently walking on water, but like the music inside, there was a sense of real life honestly, overlapping into pure magic. The opener – Garden Song is the sound of a single seed blossoming into the world, a tiny sprout navigating the soil to reach the sun – a poetic vision of a little thing called existence, wrapped a rich swirl of strings and brass…
The album tumbles through 13 tracks, each, a miniature symphony. Songs like Narrow Way, We Have Laid Here, Methane River or Cannons Plain, all open up like everyday moments made detailed, filmic and undertowed by deep emotion and beauty. Sing Us One Of Your Songs May, is a bizarre but effecting spoken hymn, backed by ghostly piano, and The Room an existential ballad that erupts into a blaze of trumpets.
A single from a few years previous, tagged on the end – Screams In The Ears, bristles with the grooviest piano ever, the lyrics spat by a grumpy Fay, a mixture that frames that question – how was none of this not a huge success at the time?
However, the follow up album, whilst easily gloomier and with a simpler sound feels even more devastating than the debut. Time Of The Last Persecution, as the title suggests, addresses the darkening mood of the time it was made. It’s also easy to feel this all neatly dovetails into the present day. The still prophetic Picture of Adolf Again, the melancholic hope of Dust Filled Rooms, the anthemic Plan D all cut like a knife. The title track, Time Of The Last Persecution however is the album’s dark peak. A rubble strewn masterpiece that explodes in wailing guitars by the extraordinary Ray Russell, sax and King Crimson-like meltdowns.
At the time, despite the amazingness heaped on these two quick fire releases, the dream faded. He merged into real life for years…
However, this highly fertile creative period was further fleshed out in From The Bottom Of The Old Grandfather Clock. Whilst covering alternative version of familiar tracks, more importantly, it showcased further works that despite a slight dip in sound quality are as stunning as anything on these two albums.
The folky stomp of Warwick Town, the fuzzy psychedelics of Brighton Beach, the fireballing of Backwood Maze and the campfire chants of Lily Brown all dazzle. Event the half-finished gorgeousness of Tiny, feels like it’s millimetres from a masterpiece.
This flurry of activity 55 years ago was missed by many at the time but O’Rourke’s actions, Wilco subsequently playing Be Not So Fearful as part of their live set, and the eventual flurry of media focus – gladly found an older, but deservingly validated Fay.
An album Fay had made between 1978/81 – Tomorrow, Tomorrow And Tomorrow was finally released in 2005. Still Some Light, gathered more old and newer music in 2010. From the shadows, Fay was welcomed back to the studio, and we were treated to 3 albums of new music Life Is People (2012), Who Is The Sender? (2015) and Countless Branches (2020).
Whilst these albums were all dusted in beauty, somehow the biggest sense was that Fay finally got that wave of love he had always deserved. Older, wearier and wiser, the world may well have still been as sick as ever, but at least we now had his music like a beautiful form of armour.
In a perfect creative loop, his cover of Wilco’s Jesus etc (from Life Is People) was the one that broke my heart the most, listening as a small tribute after hearing this sad news.
Bill Fay’s piano and voice are now gone. But despite the fact he very nearly slipped between the cracks all those years ago, somehow the butterfly flapped its wings, and he got the chance to finally feel the warm love of his music so richly deserved.
He is a gift to us all, even if today is the day, you finally discover him. Beauty abounds.
You have the wind, you have the rain
You have the fields and the windmills
To turn with you and see you through
Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow…
Bill Fay
(9 September 1943 – 21 February 2025)
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