Robert Wyatt - Flotsam Jetsam

For one moment in the 30's , George Ellidge from oop north, but poshed up a bit at university , saw his name on a poster for the first and last time, as a pianist for a concert in Weymouth. Apart from doing some solos - a Chopin waltz, a Debussy arabesque and a piece by Cyril Scott - he accompanied Italian tenor Notariello, with whom he also recorded some 78's for a little record label in piano factory in Finsbury Park called Witton Witton. Indie or what?

I was conceived and dropped only just after the atom bomb, but the western powers had sorted out their little differences, re-grouped under the Stars and Stripes launched the 3rd World War in earnest before I remember actually meeting my father, when I was about 6, and he must have already been 46. During the next few years he had M.S., not a fatal disease, but anyway he died in his late fifties, a dozen years later.

I remember him struggling merrily through the accompaniment of old songs at the piano - 'Little brown jug, how I love thee', and played church organ for the village Harvest festival, somehow slipping in pop songs like 'A white sports coat and a pink carnation' among the expected hymn effects. When he no longer could play piano he just played records: Britten, Prokofiev, Ravel, Ellington and Fats Waller.

He often fell victim to prolonged and breath-taking fits of laughter. He could have died of laughter.
He was totally unreasonable, and would never argue. His attitude seemed to be "I'll give you my opinion if you want it, but that doesn't mean I'd like to hear yours."

He avoided the non-smoking compartments on trains, which he said smelt of urine.
He would make as if to scrub his hands in revulsion if he'd picked up a Daily Express by mistake, considering the right-wing press irredeemably contaminated by poison.

I'm a shadow of his former self, and I miss him more than I know how to say. So this
one's for George Hargreaves Ellidge, musician, soldier, psychologist and complete nut-case.

Compiled by Mike King with help and suggestions from Robert Wyatt
Rough Trade, 1994

What I'd figured was simply this: If I'm to make contact with many of the musicians Robert Wyatt had worked with over the old rotten hatted years, then to consider the heart of the matter I really ought to inquire if any old rotting recordings still existed. Was I in for a surprise!

The first one arrived via a New York City telephone operator who reported 'I've nothing in Manhattan, the only Windo I have is in Brooklyn'. In time this led to a whirlwind 48 hours with Gary Windo that developed into a series of improbable misadventures, the likes of which could provide the script for a Monty Python reunion.
More importantly though was our digging out (literally) from a decrepit countryside garage the master reel for the only studio recording made to capture the Symbiosis sextet!

Another memorable discovery occurred during a weekend visit with Robert and Alfreda at their Lincolnshire home. While flipping through his record collection Robert pulled out a Spanish album by the Catalonian Claustrophobia that included his guest singing. 'No one outside of Spain has ever heard this!', I shrieked, to which the laughing retort fired back, 'and no one inside of Spain has ever heard this'.

Otherwise the program decided upon was hammered out via air mail post. I'd proposition with cassettes and Robert would chisel away the embarrassments and re-evaluate borderline cases.
I won't dare ruminate on the musical merits nor significance of this collection, except to say that if honor can be claimed in its presentation, then it lay within the wonderful playing of our absent friends - Jimi Hendrix, Mongezi Feza and Gary Windo.