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CD News from Nowhere 2000


 
Click on a track title to see lyrics & notes further down the page.
big car big money

the way in

cyberia

automatic

candlelight

coat of many colours

your father drives

land of plenty
  9  the bullets that hit John

10  I blinked once

11  how long is the night?

12  victim's day

13  blutopia

14  the way out

15  01/01/01

16  homes fit for heroes
All songs by Hugh Featherstone (except 10 by Steve Forbert)

You can order this CD

at blutopia.networks

www.blutopia.net
A journey through utopias & dystopias of the past, present & future
 


CD front cover



CD back cover



Hugh and a seagull (name withheld)
photo on the inside of the CD cover
All text in this rather fetching blue-green by Hugh Featherstone.

"News from Nowhere" is the name of a 19th century utopian * dream novel by the social philosopher, artist and craftsman William Morris.

Most of us have a "nowhere" we are trying either to prevent or to realize, escape to or wake up from.

This was the rabbit hole century and the list is long of all the trails and tails we have been fooled by. People of the future may find it hard to wake up from the dreams we dreamt for them.

Fortunately, in defiance of any public dream, and although we live and love together, we we each have our own agenda when we sleep. Or, as Edwin Drood, author of the landmark study "This Way Up: Living in Zero Gravity" so cannily observed, "so, in space nobody hears you scream? Well, nobody hears you sneeze either, and the consequences can be more serious."

Alone, together, we cross the dateline. Hugh, 31.12.1999


* The Greeks have word for it. And then again, sometimes not ...

The word utopia - meaning literally "nowhere" - itself comes to us from the ancient Greek through Sir Thomas More's famous book of that title (1516).

And while we're on the subject, did you know that there's no word in modern Greek for catharthis (in the psychological sense) or onomatopoeia. Amazing what you can learn in the internet...

Hugh's press release for "News from Nowhere"

This has been a difficult birth. Provisional vocals and initial drum tracks were already laid down in December 1996. Concepts and titles came and went, various formats were considered before the present three-handed approach (solo - trio - band, with a separate producer for each), was decided. The choice of songs was then made on the basis of theme, drastically reducing an unmanageable list of candidates.

I had initially planned May 1997 as release date for the album. 1997: year of the navel, the year some of our leaders realized that blowing the limbs off civilians and children with anti-personnel mines is wrong, the year the Asian tigers got scared, baby boomers first began to worry seriously about their pensions and computer programmers about the approaching millenium.

But above all, it was a year of goodbyes, of smog and excuses. What better time could there be for starting a journey from Cyberia to Blutopia? The journey turned out to be a long one. So long that I had time to record, release on schedule and even sell the first edition of the double-CD "me & miss wray" before we were finished. I think It was worth the wait.

The songs in this collection (some of which have since turned out curiously prophetic) are roughly grouped around utopian and dystopian themes. The things we profess form the outward spirit of the age, while the undercurrent of our personal yearnings whispers a counterpoint in the background, rendering simple issues complex, or cutting through the complicated to reveal an essential simplicity. Somewhere between we make our deal with destiny. The result is either a rock we can build on, a rock we can cling to, or the rock upon which the ship of our life breaks up.

"News from Nowhere" leaves a calling card for the late 90's, a sideways statement about where I thought we were in the big picture. As befits the close of the nostalgia century, I borrowed the title from a novel written at the close of the one before by the artist and social philosopher William Morris. We all have a "nowhere" we are trying to prevent or to realize, escape to or from. Some of mine are here. In the novel, our hero is forcefully faded out of the utopia spun for him from his author's dreams. He neither makes the big party that evening, nor does he get the girl. It's a classic "... and then I woke up" ending.

People of the future may find it harder to wake up from the dreams we dream for them today. Fortunately, in defiance of any public dream, and although we live and love together, we each have our own agenda when we sleep. Or, as Dr. Edwin Drood, author of the landmark study "This Way Up: Living in Zero Gravity" cannily observed, "so, in space nobody hears you scream? Well, nobody hears you sneeze either, and the consequences can be more serious."

Alone, together, we cross the dateline. Hugh, 31.12.99


 
photos from the CD booklet by Martine Passagez


Hugh Featherstone
 

Ali Döhler
 

Andreas Henz


Rheidun Schlesinger
 

Carine Mattar
 

Yannick Le Roux


Chris Sichert
 

Winfried Winkler
 

Marc Bontemps
The people who played on this album were:

Red Shift (1, 7, 10, 12, 13 & 15) is:
Hugh Featherstone: lead vocals, acoustic guitars
Yannick Le Roux: drums
Andreas Henz: electric guitars
Ali Döhler: keyboards
Wini Winkler: bass
Chris Sichert: percussion
Carine Mattar: backing vocals
Guest vocal on track 13: Sabine Zinke

The Tone Poets (3, 4 & 6):
Hugh Featherstone: guitars & vocals
Yannick Le Roux: drums & percussion
Wini Winkler: bass

Otherwise:
Rheidun Schlesinger: harp (5 & 11)
Paul Wiltgens: drums (16) & cello (9)
Freddy Pötgen: piano (16)
Michael Sparla: pedal steel (8)
BiBs: violin (8)
Joe Spencer: harmonica (8)
Guido Heinen: tuba (16)
Marc Bontemps: diverse keyboards, arrangements & rhythm charts
Hugh Featherstone: acoustic guitars & electric guitars (2, 5, 8, 9, 11, 14 & 16), violin (3)

The Product:
Marc Bontemps & Andreas Henz: production & engineering
sleeve concept by Hugh
Liner photos: Martine Passagez
graphic realisation: Rita Johanns



the seagull
back to discography to top of page www.featherstone.co.nr website design Ursa Major
CD News from Nowhere 2000


 
Click on a track title to see the lyrics & notes below.
big car big money

the way in

cyberia

automatic

candlelight

coat of many colours

your father drives

land of plenty
  9  the bullets that hit John

10  I blinked once

11  how long is the night?

12  victim's day

13  blutopia

14  the way out

15  01/01/01

16  homes fit for heroes
All songs by Hugh Featherstone (except 10 by Steve Forbert)

You can order this CD

at blutopia.networks

www.blutopia.net

lyrics and notes

All Hugh's CD album sleeves contain the lyrics & notes published here, so the best way to enjoy
them is to read as you listen. But for those of you who can't wait, here they are.

All text in this rather fetching blue-green by Hugh Featherstone.

More info about this CD at the top of this page
  News from Nowhere big car big money track 1  
(1996)

What I like here is the line "twenty thousand kinds of something hidden in a box".
As for the rest, it's either dead-pan or serious, depending on how healthy
my bank statement looks.


Big car big money, gonna get to me one day.
Big car big money, pull up at the stage door & glide away.
I worked hard for this & i tell you what,
don't come between me & the things I've got.
Big car big money, gonna get to me one day.

Big car big money, gonna get me out of here.
Big car big money, got a green light & the highway's clear.
I've been waiting for this, boy, can't you see,
no one gonna take it away from me.
Big car big money, gonna get me out of here.

Some have religion, change their water into wine,
got a front seat at the judgement, watch all us sinners dying.
Some have each other, somebody treat them right,
got their arms around a rainbow as they freefall through the dead of night.

Big car big money, take a ride around this town.
Big car big money, cruise up beside you slide the window down.
Gold in my teeth, silk on my back,
lean over honey tell me 'bout the things you lack.
Big car big money, take a ride around this town.

Some have collections, keep their whole world under locks,
they got twenty thousand kinds of something hidden in a box.
Some have connections, somebody fix their fight,
tie the straight man to the fire hose on a freefall through the dead of night.

Big car big money, you're gonna see me one day.
Big car big money, pull out my chequebook & just sign away, sign away.
  News from Nowhere the way in track 2  
(1999)

There is no comment about this track in the booklet which comes with the CD, so don't bother looking.

It's an instrumental solo guitar piece by Hugh. At 1 minute 3 seconds, it's far too short.

I'd love a whole CD of Hugh's solo guitar music. Not a hot commercial proposition, I know, but great soulfood.

You should know that Hugh is a marvellous guitar teacher. He believes in teaching, and gives much of his time to helping people of all ages to express themselves musically. He told me how he loved especially to work with pensioners, who don't seem to deserve a second glance from most (younger) people.

In England teachers are held in such low esteem that a saying exists: "If you can't do, teach."
What a topsy-turvy world we live in. Of course, there are plenty of terrible teachers.
But think about this:
Most of the great artists and craftspersons had their appprentices and "schools". Fom prehistoric smithies to modern technical schools; from Classical/ Renaiscance studios to present universities.

I was priviliged to observe one of Hugh's classes, at which he demonstrated the enormous variety of guitar styles: classical, jazz, swing, blues, folk, rock ... He did this by playing each style, flying from to another; not, you must understand, as a medly, but as a natural "dip" from one style into the next. This is what the guy does naturally, this is his life. The students eyes and ears poppped. Mine Too. A veritable master class.

Update info from Hugh (2005):

These two little pieces, "The way in" and "The way out" (track 14), serve as bookends for the inward part of the journey through various 20th Century utopias and dystopias.

I wrote them during production in the studio and tailored them to fit the key changes taken by the final track order. They also mark the first appearance on record of Karsten Kobs' exhibition custom acoustic from the "Launhardt & Kobs" workshop, as it was still called then.

Staying for the weekend with Tom and Karsten and their families at the atelier in Siegen (in the company of my good friend Walter Kraushaar, who builds my stage instruments), and falling in love with this masterpiece, remains one of my sweetest "guitar" memories.

Tom now works alone, while Karsten has moved North and, as far as I know, these days only builds electric instruments.


  News from Nowhere cyberia track 3  
(1996)

Indeed, some "nouns I'll not decline". But seriously, citizen, it's not every day you get to hear latin in a song, nor the words "noded" and "wisteria"

Come in from Cyberia, I won't meet you on line.
I need to see & hear you, feel your lips on mine.

Sublima et aetheria, the church's distant chime,
the scent of the wisteria, the lowing of the kine...

I do not feel inferior, not noded to the vine.
Your smile is far superior to any surfer sign.

So come in from Cyberia, I won't meet you on line.
I need to see & hear you & feel your lips on mine.

Spiritus et materia are nouns I'll not decline,
for deep in their interior we live in real time.

So won't you come in from Cyberia, I won't meet you on line.
I need to see & hear you & feel your lips on mine,
I need to see & hear you & feel your lips on mine.
  News from Nowhere automatic track 4  
(1996)

I wrote this for "Mister 10-per-cent", the Hokaido deal fixer and his gangland minions.
A few weeks later the Nikkei crashed. Weird.


Buzz-saw to the nouveau poor, they got to pay to talk to you.
Neat ends & Mercedes Benz, everything you have is new.
Butt joints & perfect points, there ain't nothing left to chance.
A style ace in the human race with a flair for low romance.
You're automatic, automatic man, anyway you can,
you just don't give a damn, you're automatic.

Rich drones with cellular phones keep you hustling through the night.
Knee socks like doctor spock & every wedding must be white.
You wash cash like you take out the trash, you know it makes the world go round.
Kids jive as the Nikkei dives & you're the only game in town,
the automatic man, automatic man, anyway you can,
you just don't give a damn, it's automatic.

She waits at the teller's gate just to staighten up your tie.
She'll tell you what you're worth when that looks comes in your eye...

Cool cat, guessed you smelled a rat, turned your table to the door.
But some goon from the sniffing room leaves you bleeding on the floor.
No date, honey, he'll be late, I guess you'll have to eat alone.
A clean shave for the microwave, don't you hear the motor moan?
It's automatic, your automatic man anyway you can,
you just don't give a damn, it's automatic
  News from Nowhere candlelight track 5  
(1996)

The fatal drive-by shooting, in June 1996 on a Lagos street, of human rights lawyer Qudrat Abiola, famous wife of a famous husband, actually occurred several months after I wrote "Candlelight". When I heard the news I was totally stunned, as well as being understandably nervous about creating any more such "fictions".

Every evening he would ring the bell, now he dances on a cable in a cell.
The pulpit has been silent since the gunmen took him in.
In candlelight I see him again, in candlelight I see him again.

Her thoughts as clear as water cut like glass. They slashed at all the barriers of class.
Early one June morning, they shot her through the brain.
In candlelight I see her again, in candlelight I see her again.

In candlelight, the tortured & the maimed come out & show
the tracks of the electrodes & the brands.
In candlelight, the butchers & the fiends & rapists stand
accused by all the blood that's on their hands.

She defied the military brutes, she lived for years trapped underneath their boots
If it wasn't for the candles they'd have killed her in the end.
In candlelight I see her smile again, in candlelight I see her smile again.

In candlelight, the tortured & the maimed come out & show
the tracks of the electrodes & the brands.
In candlelight the butchers & the fiends & rapists stand accused
by all the blood that's on their hands.

We live in hope, we live in fear, we live.
We live to learn, & learning we forgive.
So here's to all who die when swords are drawn against the pen,
in candlelight I see them all again.
  News from Nowhere coat of many colours track 6  
(1996)

The Bible is full of stories in which brain triumphs over brawn, forgiveness over revenge, fidelity over cupidity.
In the story of Joseph, the spring-board for this ostensibly anti-racist song, there are no losers. A father gets his beloved son back, perfidious brothers are forgiven, Pharaoh gets good economic advice and a lesson in planned agriculture, Joseph strikes it rich with dignity.
I don't know where people find their "angry" Old Testament God. I find One who, despite an understandably vivid temper, is just and equitable. I really enjoyed doing the guitar lines on this.


What colour is your blood? What colour is your soul?
What colour do you rock? What colour do you roll?
What colour are the dreams that pan across your head?
What colour do you sleep in, what sheets are on your bed?
What colour is the skin you secretly crave?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave.

What colour is the rich man? What colour is the poor?
If the rich man is white he's got a black man at the door.
What colour is your dollar? What colour is your yen?
What colour was your Jesus? What colour is your zen.
If the colours all were drowning, which one would you save?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave.

What colour is the winner? What colour do you lose?
What colour is your happiness? What colour sings the blues?
What colour is the athlete? What colour is the clown?
Of every kind of colour are the jewels in your crown.
What colour is a coward? What colour are the brave?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave,
going to wear it to my grave.

What colour is the honest man? What colour is the knave?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave.

What colour are the planets? What colour are the stars?
Take a look up at the night sky & then say what race you are.
What colour are the footprints you leave upon the sand?
What colour are your rivers? What colour is your land?
What colour is your justice, the promises you gave?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave.

What colour is the master? What colour is the slave?
I've got a coat of many colours, going to wear it to my grave,
going to wear it, going to wear it, going to wear it to my grave,
going to wear it to my grave.
  News from Nowhere your father drives track 7  
(1996)

Generational loss of innocence and subsequent loss of direction are recurring themes of mine.
They pop up in various disguises on this album.
Disenchanted people will cling to almost anything that offers an ersatz for hope.
Domestic tragedies are made of this.


Your mother drinks, your father drives, drives his life away.
His lights cut wedges through the night, across the flatlands to the bay.
& there he lights a cigarette, strides along the sand.
Then comes back slowly to take the wheel & turn to face the land.

These are the years of laying low, you keep your head down to survive.
Everybody has a way to go. Where most of us walk, your father drives.

When he gets home, he stays downstairs, tries to read a line or two.
But he always ends up thinking about the kids, Stacy, Jade & you.
Then he sits on into the dark, steering that TV.
Just another Woodstock survivor who lost his destiny.

These are the years of laying low, you keep your head down to survive.
Everybody has a way to go. Where most of us walk, your father drives.

This wasn't how he planned his life, it's just the way things are.
Clinging to the East coast with a drowning wife, & his best friend is a car!
These are the years of laying low, you keep your head down to survive.
Everybody has a way to go. Where most of us walk, your father drives.
  News from Nowhere land of plenty track 8  
(1994)

This was born out of an article in a German magazine on "new poverty" in the US. Bank speculation victims, farm foreclosures, double mortgage losers...
Most examples, though not all, were middle class professionals totally unequipped for survival on the street and learning at first hand the downside of liberal economics.
Marc chose to go for a straight C&W feel on this one, to underline the irony. It surprised me how irritated some people were by this, as if it were a crime to play country music.


Though farmer Long was big & strong, he'd do nobody harm,
which didn't stop the friendly bank foreclosing on his farm.
In his cousin's beatup pinto down behind the shopping mall,
he's made himself a mobile home & his dog's his only pal.

No one gets a raw deal now.
Don't go moaning on about those years before the plough.
No one gets a raw deal now,
we're living in the land of plenty.

William Purvey put his trust in the local S & L.
If he'd kept it in his pocket he might still have things to sell.
In a cardboard box just two blocks down from fat cat city hall,
he's got no shoes or socks, well how much further can you fall?

No one gets a raw deal now.
Don't go moaning on about that speculation row.
No one gets a raw deal now,
we're living in the land of plenty.

Mary Rose is a welfare mother, sure does have it good.
She's got three kids in a single room (though the icebox is full of food).
The bruises on her thighs weren't made by falling down the stairs.
She sells herself to johns to pay for clothing & repairs.

No one gets a raw deal now.
Don't go moaning on about no budget sacred cow.
No one gets a raw deal now,
we're living in the land of plenty.
  News from Nowhere the bullets that hit John track 9  
(1996)

The beginning was taken from John Lennon's last interview, only hours before he was shot.
Marc downloaded it from the net. It's amazing what's out there.
"... killed Paul" is not in any way intended to disparage any of that ex-Beatles' later work. It is only an image used to express the mortality of hope and the fragile uniqueness of some combinations: Lennon & Macartney, Rogers & Hammerstein, Laurel & Hardy, Rolls & Royce, Marx & Engels, Marx & Spencers...


Tried to turn the pages back somehow.
Didn't want to face the facts till now.
No matter how you look at it, the truth you cannot stall,
the bullets that hit John killed Paul.

A Christmas time that changed the way we think
& showed the power of violence over ink.
A generation died that day, you could hear the bodies fall,
as the bullets that hit John killed Paul.

Whatever will they say of us in the years to come?
That we sold our values & were taken hostage by the gun?

But I believe the world still knows our song
& one day truth will triumph over wrong.
But until then, my lyric friend, our actions will recall
how the bullets that hit John killed Paul.

But until then, my lyric friend, our actions will recall
how the bullets that hit John killed Paul.
  News from Nowhere I blinked once track 10  
Words & music by Steve Forbert, Rolling Tide Music. Please visit one of Steve's sites for these.
I decided to cover this (the first time I've covered anything on record), because it's a fine example of a catch-all, been-there-done-that type of song, and because it sums up, with suitable yearning, the way that time passes faster and faster as we stumble on.


The official Steve Forbert website: www.steveforbert.com
  News from Nowhere how long is the night? track 11  
(1997)

Together with "Landing", "Gone before you're there", "Kingdom of the Blind", "Circle of your arms", "Sunset", "Lights along the Highway", "An American dream", "Love is a stranger here" and "I'll remember you", this one is also somewhere high up in my own chart of favourite Featherstone songs.
There is no particular virtue in this. They were all floating in the ether (whatever that is, sounds like formaldehyde) and someone had to write them.

I've seen the hungry & I've seen the weak.
I've seen the wealthy, well fed & sleak.
I've measured the difference & I know it ain't right,
& I've promised myself not to give up the fight,
but how long is the night?

I've seen the mighty & I've seen the meek.
I've seen the braggart & the one too scared to speak.
I've measured the difference & I know it ain't right,
& I've promised myself not to give up the fight,
but how long is the night?

Could we measure the distance from here to the light,
we could say with assurance there's a morning in sight,
but how long is the night?

I've seen the city & the poisoned land
& I've seen the deserts made by human hand,
& I've measured the difference & I know it ain't right
& I've promised myself not to give up the fight,
but how long is the night?
  News from Nowhere victim's day track 12  
(1994)

First recorded, rather differently, on "Negotiations & Lovesongs", I decided to redo this because I loved Andreas' arrangement for Red Shift and Yannick's cunning and clever drum track.

I got your call, you sounded overwrought.
Before the fall, I was always willing to be caught.
But not again, I know you never cared.
I was a shoulder that you always could rely on to be there... you go, walking out on happiness again.
Don't you know? No one's going to stay to see the end.
He was your only friend.

You've got a nerve, to say you suffered here.
A softer life is hard for me to visualize, my dear,
but all the same, this is the victim's day,
these are the years when objectivity gets blown away... you go, walking out on happiness again.
Don't you know? No one's going to stay to see the end.
He was your only friend.

I know how to be nice to you, my darling.
I used to pay any price to see you smiling.
Yes, I know how to be nice to you, my darling.
But I don't have to be nice. I don't need to be nice.
I don't want to be twice the fool.

I got your call, you sounded overwrought.
Before the fall, I was always willing to be caught.
We talked a bit, till I heard someone cough.
You haven't changed. It's time I took my rosy glasses off... you go, walking out on happiness again.
Don't you know? No one's going to stay to see the end.
He was your only friend.
  News from Nowhere blutopia track 13  
(1996)

Tired of being in a constituency of one, I decided to create a republic.
Any further comment needed?


When I was a kid, I learned about Blutopia,
a place where all the artists & the jazzmen go.
Everybody's cool over in Blutopia,
so cool it don't even show,
only blutopians know.

Ever since they told me about Blutopia,
I've been waiting for my visa, I won't have to pay.
People with the right touch live in Blutopia.
You see them walk & talk the blutopian way.

Hey, all you aesthetes with nowhere to go but on with the show,
you don't have to be famous, it's something interior that comes with the flow.

Standing on the border of Blutopia.
Got to keep my eyes on that beautiful view.
Soon they're going to let me into Blutopia,
'cos I'm Blutopian too, now, what about you?

Hey, all you citizens, walking around
with your eyes on the ground,
all you need is an attitude,
to serve as a passport to paradise found.

Never ought to doubt it, Blutopia.
You've got to believe it, it'll come some day.
So you'd better get your hair cut for Blutopia
& learn to wear your clothes the Blutopian way.
  News from Nowhere the way out track 14  
(1999)

Another instrumental solo guitar piece by Hugh, as in track 2 "the way in".





  News from Nowhere 01/01/01 track 15  
(1995)

Ringing in the new is what they do from every tower and steeple in England on New Year's Eve.
I actually wrote this while playing a New Year's gig sometime 80s and tried it out at once.
Everyone was too pissed to notice of course. So what else is new?


Ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.
All the dreams you ever dreamed, you could be living them here,
so ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.

A century of poverty, a century of wealth misspent,
a century when liberty bore bitter fruits of discontent.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.
All the nightmares we were torn with, gone in the blink of an eye,
all the hopes that we were born with flare up in the midnight sky.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.

A century of refugees, a century of war & grief,
a century of technology's apologies for the missing thief.
Ring out the old ring in the new year...
This generation will see the changes wrought by the fingers of might.
A planet spirals out of dark ages & into the age of light,
won't you ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the new year.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, ring in the brand new year, the sweet new year.
  News from Nowhere homes fit for heroes track 16  
(1996)

The social utopianism of the between war years, and particularly Prime Minister Atlee's (was it?) "Homes fit for Heroes" speech inspired this parody. "Britain will be great once more" was a believable dream at the time!

We'll live in homes fit for heroes, they say, the democratic way.
Wash the cordite from our skin & invite the neighbours in, or go out for a spin.
Fit for heroes life will be, a new reality.
Hang your helmet by the door & forget about the war & Britain will be great once more.

Weekday mornings, as a rule, the kids will run to school, so many brave new things to know.
School will be a happy place, a smile on every face, all eager just to learn & grow.
They'll live in homes fit for heroes later on, intelligent & strong,
every Jack will have his Jill & they'll all be on the pill & having so much fun.
Fit for heroes life will be, the welfare state for free.
There'll be no more unemployed, jobs for every girl & boy & leisure to enjoy.

At the weekend there'll be sport, & when the days grow short, we'll meet in public libraries.
Literature will change our lives, our educated wives will raise the tone in factories,
while we build homes fit for heroes, my friends. Our brilliance never ends.
We'll drive cars of stainless steel & reinvent the wheel. Oh, think how good you'll feel.
Like the heroes of your dreams, just bursting at the seams
with the strength of twenty men & the business sense of ten & never will we go to war again.

Every Monday, Bill & Ben rush off to catch the train (trains will always leave on time).
In the evenings, home again, they'll help to take the strain collect the washing off the line
& then eat food fit for heroes, no trash, good bangers beans & mash.
Watch the vizscreen on the wall put there to inform us all of good deeds done by heroes in Whitehall.
 

Hugh Featherstone plays Kraushaar Guitars
back to discography to top of page www.featherstone.co.nr website design Ursa Major