No Fool Like An Old Fool
No Fool Like An Old Fool
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The title is a line from a song you wouldn’t know, by a singer you’ve probably never heard of. The singer who sang, “There’s no fool like an old fool” was Harvey Andrews. He is an English folk singer who never really had a chart hit and is just about as unknown in America as he is anywhere else in the world, and that includes the town where he lives.


I picked up an album of his years ago in Bath and liked it. He has a song called 25 Years on the Road, where he sings about spending your whole life “looking for that mother lode.” At first he’s expecting to have his big hit in a year or two… “because that’s what happens as a rule.” Then it become five years. Eventually he realises he’s never going to have it, but he’s still on the road singing. “And there’s no fool like an old fool,” the song ends.


The reason for bringing all this old foolishness up in the blog, is that today is my birthday and I’m an even older old fool than usual – 53 times, to be precise. And old Harvey nailed the ageing process brilliantly when he came out of retirement recently for a special charity concert in Portishead, under the banner Glad To Be Grey – a dig here at Tom Robinson’ seminal 1978 gay-anthem, Glad To Be Gay – and billed as “A celebration of maturity, with songs, stories, humour (and the occasional rant)”.


Old guys rule, says Harvey. I wish I could believe him, but right now I’m not feeling ‘hip’ anymore, more like hip replacement.


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