Soundbites and Civil Rights

by The Lone Groover

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For full appreciation of this Long Player, look sharp and play loud.

Permission was neither sought nor granted for any samples used.

Maximum F 'n' B

Guitars, Vox, Harp on track 3 – THE LONE GROOVER
Harp & good vibes – GRAE J WALL
Drums, Percussion and cockney suss – TOM MURROW
Backing vox on track 8 – SCARLETT & CHLOE CAULFIELD (Aged 4)
Intro and outro written and performed by the essential ephemeral Northern punk poet, RANTIN' RICHIE
Recorded and mixed by PHIL ‘DOYLIE’ DOYLE at Diablo Recording Studio, Camden Town
Cover artwork by TIM PEMBERTON
A South London, North of the river production.
All songs (Caulfield)

Blah, blah blah....
"This opening slot was a breeze for this one man army. He articulates and spits bullets in equal measures. Not content with a stationary delivery he weaves and slings his acoustic guitar across the compact stage, The guitar is an animated Tommy gun in this performer’s hands." Neal Wright, Louder than War.

'When he isn't tied to the microphone he struts around the floor like a Weller/Townshend hybrid accompanied, in spirit at least, by his fantasy rock band; and when he is at the microphone, he continues the posturing which has now become his trademark: raising his guitar, Jimmy Page-style, in the air like a rifle, or lowering it like a shovel. Truly inspirational!' - Toby Burton,

'The Lone Groover was great and a real highlight of the weekend for me. A bloke, his acoustic guitar, three chords and the truth!' - Marv Jolly, Gadgie Fanzine

'The Lone Groover - Acoustic folk punk? Protest music? A love relationship with The Clash? Probably all of the above and more. The Groover played with passion and commitment. Dressed sharply and machine gunned us with his Gibson. Finely tuned craftsmanship and song writing. Tales of social revolution and a love for subculture. Tonight the groover rocked, turned out some sweet vibes and covered ‘Career Opportunities’, what more could anyone want?' - Eagle Spits, Fungalpunk

"Joe Strummer inspired acoustic stuff with some great hooks and crafted lyrics which even a punk poet would be proud of. ‘Talkin' Demo Blues’ and ‘Rebel Without A Metaphor’ ask multi layered questions one has to think about. It’s not all acoustic raging in a Frank Turner kind of way, some of it is sweet and soothing, almost supernal, taking us to a punk rock heaven." Gary Eagling, Fungalpunk.

'A cross between mid 60's Dylan, late 70's Costello and all era Mick Jones', Steve North, Actor and my mate.

"I wanna walk like The Clash and sound like Bob Dylan". Me.

Folk music for city dwellers.


released February 20, 2016



all rights reserved


The Lone Groover London, UK

Named after the anti-hero of a comic strip that graced the music inkies of the 70s, THE LONE GROOVER is a one man & guitar outfit who channels his love of folk, punk and Americana into classic songs of beauty, protest & passion, agit-folk'n'bop if you will."Let’s be clear, I’m not a solo artist, I’m a one man group, I wanna walk like The Clash & sound like Bob Dylan”. Folk music for City dwellers! ... more

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Track Name: The Business
I never really knew the reason
Why I got done for treason
I was minding my own business
When they did the business

I never really knew what hit me
The night that they decided to hit me
I was minding my own business
Must I get a witness

They said
You pushed in at the bar
Who the hell do you think you are
You spilt my beer
And you ain’t from around ‘ere
You ain’t from around ‘ere
You ain’t from around ‘ere

Small town, small mind, small everything
I wish I could float like a butterfly with a bee sting

But it ain’t over til the big lady sings
It ain’t over ‘til the large lady sings
It ain’t over until the big boned lady sings

Shout and Holler
Crash bang wallop
Biff bang pow wow wowwow wow wow wow

Track Name: How the West was Lost
So the politics of left and right have embraced each other almost overnight
And our kids are growing up too fast, we should’ve known our reign was never gonna’ last
And wisdom comes with age we’re told, but it’s never too late to try to break that mould
Though we’re rightfully suspicious of, those who claim to be in cahoots with God
In a world that’s getting harder to explain
The love of a good woman keeps me sane

And those idiots in magazines, they are our children’s heroes kings and queens
Should we lead them to the promised land or lead them to the guillotine
On street corners there are teenage hoods who bay for blood and call each other blud
Do I act chicken and shut my gob or be born again and release my inner yob
See these city streets can sometimes do your brain
But the love of a good woman keeps me sane

The bread-heads and the spoon-feds say your prophets are at a loss
And there’s something to be said for shallow days and candyfloss
But mark my words that’ll be how the west was lost

And the hacks make fun of protest songs, ‘cos the counterculture’s all but dead and gone
And Rock n roll's now just artifice, what would Johnny Thunders make of this
As I search for truth and not someone to blame
The love of a good woman keeps me sane
As I do nothing but do nothing but complain
The love of a good woman, the love of a good woman, the love of a good woman keeps me sane
Track Name: Dreams of Strummer
I had a dream about Joe Strummer last night
He told me everything was gonna’ be alright
He said “we shall overcome,
As long as there are kids to strum
& heaven holds a place
For those with love and soul and grace”

I had a dream about Joe Strummer last night
He told me everything was gonna’ be alright
He said “believe in greater things
We can all be Kings
And passion sometimes takes it’s toll,
Like trouser, brain like heart and soul”

And he was wearing dark blue jeans
And he offered me a smoke
Looking not unlike Jimmy Dean
And he was smiling as he spoke

I had a dream about Joe Strummer last night
He told me everything was gonna’ be alright
He said “I know that times are tough,
But rock ‘n’ roll still just might save us,
And tell all the girls and boys,
Me and Dury are still making noise”

And he was wearing rock ‘n’ roll clobber
And he offered me a drink
And he was singing “Bankrobber”
I swear to God man it was him

I had a dream about Joe Strummer last night
He told me everything was gonna’ be alright

Track Name: The Refugee
When I first met you after school my heart burst into flames
And from that moment on I knew life would never be the same
You turned my world upside down, so effortless and casual
I thought God had picked me out ‘cos I was young and beautiful
Wrong time wrong place but for the grace
We make mistakes for heavens sakes
And you are one I won’t forget – from the playground to my death
I know that it ain’t over yet – you’re gonna’ follow me to my last breath

You were trouble from the start and that’s what attracted me
But in my heart of hearts I should have taken the advice given to me
The grown ups never understood that I was in love
All that talk of my own good only made me more in love
But if I knew then what I know now
I’d have just smiled sweetly and then bowed out
But like a fool fell for your charm – there was no way you could do me harm
But behind your eyes and look of love – was an iron fist in a velvet glove

My mother always said precaution…..was a girl’s best friend
But downstairs after lights were out, we’d get our way in the end
With your hand between my knees I wanted you I must confess
We were so easy to please, life seemed so dangerous
But if I knew then, what I know now
I’d have blushed demurely and gotten the hell out
The rough stuff came after your tender touch
You knocked me about after you knocked me up
Apologies and guilt always disappeared
Until I found the strength to do the thing that you had always feared

Now I’m in refuge, in the hands of the all saints
And I’m so tired of this story over which I now draw a veil –
‘cos it could have been a fairytale
when it should have been a fairytale
But the devil is in the detail

So I cover my modesty and my bruises
They say “Jesus saves” but I need someone who accuses
‘cos the meek shall inherit just confuses

I thought God had picked me out ‘cos I was young and beautiful
Track Name: Talkin' Mid-Life Seniority Blues
We’re much older girls and boys now, we rarely get out to play
Though we still believe in the weekend, stuff gets in the way
And when we gaze into the mirror, someone else looks back
And the trousers that we cherish, won’t cut us any slack
So it’s time to pass on the baton, and do it with good grace
Our nephews and our nieces, now occupy that space,
And the further you look backwards, the stranger is the view
And now what’s past it’s sell by, was once shiny and brand new
So if you must go out dancing, don’t stay out too late
And remember to keep your nose clean,
And don’t forget your 5 a day, don’t forget your 5 a day
And you’ll live to fight another day.
Now I'm 42, I'm too old to boogaloo
What am I gonna' do?
I’ve got the walkin’ talkin’ squeakin’ squawkin’,
Middle-age rampage, hold the front page news
I’ve got the mid-life crisis, gotta quit my vices,
I’m the immoral minority, but I got seniority too.
I’ve got the talkin’ mid-life seniority blues.
Track Name: Talkin' Demonstration Blues
There’s gonna’ be a demonstration, ‘cos the Emperor’s got new clothes
If you’re lax with your taxation the flash mobs will expose
And the kids today (they say) are lazy buggers
Well that’s the view of the gentlemen of the press
The coalition politicians better run for cover
‘cos the kids are mad and suitably unimpressed
they say “we will not be defeated, for a fight we just might spoil”
The geeks have landed, birds have tweeted “a watched kettle will not boil”
And we the bastard sons of Margaret Thatcher, smile wryly as we’ve seen it all before
So we’ll stand at the back and shout “Kick over the statues”
What are we waiting for, what are we waiting for, what are we waiting for, what are we waiting for,
You’ve got to
Track Name: Whatever happened to the Teddy Boys
Does anyone remember the good old days
When dressing like you meant it was all the rage
In a land that time’s forgotten, in a world that wasn’t waiting to get paid
Handjobs and milkshakes in the arcade
Young men unafraid to rain on your parade
With pockets full of money and ciggies and a comb and maybe a switchblade

Once were delinquents
But now their memories begin to fade
So close to extinction
Never step on shoes made of blue suede
Don’t step on my blue suede

Tattoos declare in Britain made
Smell in the air of grease & pomade
And there was fighting in the dancehalls and heavy petting in the front stalls of the matinee
The slightest little trigger could start a row
Not enough imagination too many furrowed brows
As Disc jockeys played the Youth Clubs and bruisers set upon the hardest pubs around

Once were delinquents
But now slicked back hair reveals a balding crown
So close to extinction
But I thought that there was one in every town
There was one in every town

Whatever happened to the teddy boys
When times were good and times were heady boys
Whatever happened to the teddy boys
Life was a riot & you were ready boys
Whatever happened to the teddy boys
When girls were girls and work was steady boys
Whatever happened to the teddy boys
Whatever happened to the teddy boys
And as we tuck you up in beddy boys
You'll be a teddy ‘til you're deady boys
Track Name: Peace 'n' Luv 'n' Haight
Whilst the Daily Mail paints pictures of evil in our midst
The left squabble over the pickings of their greatest hits
And me I try to do the right thing but my head is in a spin
This modern world can sometimes seem like a tough place for my kids to grow up in

So here I sit ‘neath the London skies with a need to contemplate
Thinkin’ ‘bout of the lives of others, and my children’s children’s fate
So brothers and sisters help me out before it’s all too late
Join me in the hippy mantra ‘Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’ Haight
Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’ Haight
Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’ Haight
Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’ Haight
Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’ Haight
Peace ‘n’ Luv ‘n’
Hate and War

Shadows of buildings stretched out like endless rivers, upon whose riverbanks water gently lapped. Neon lights in the distance hovered silent as if angels were guarding above. The Lone Groover ambled into the distance, his eyes focused firmly on the future. The ghost of Rimbaud shuffled in the shadows.