Pat Orchard

When We Were Young

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About Pat Orchard

I taught myself to play guitar and in the process ruined all my mothers LP’s by dropping the needle into the grooves time and time again whilst I tried to work out how to play Cat Steven’s songs.

One day, a friend, Arun, asked “would you like to meet a friend of mine? I have played him some of your music, he’d like to meet you”. We travelled to Regents Park. “Wait here” he said, so I settled down to watch the girls going by and twiddled with my guitar. After a while I saw him coming back towards me with a man wearing a jalabiya and Arun, beaming a smile a mile wide, introduced me to Yusuf Islam; the absolute focus of my musical being. We talked, he looked at my guitar and very humbly said, “I used to make music you know.”

So inspired, I went into a period of performing and touring. These are some of the places I played: Glastonbury, Montreux (MTV), Womad, Reading. I performed and toured with: Johnny Cash, Annie Lennox, Randy Crawford, Blue Oyster Cult, John Martyn, Spiritualised, ELP, Robert Plant, The Mission, Arthur Brown & Love, Christy Moore, Pentangle, Richard Thompson.

 

Entering in the national songwriting competition was a blessing because if it were not for the contest I would not have heard so many brilliant and talented musicians of a 'certain age’.

I wanted to keep in contact with these musical spirits so, before we all drifted away, I reached out to some and started Scared Hitless.

I feel, with Late Night Flying, I have arrived home. Where all those songs from the late night car radio have got together to give me a surprise party!

This album represents the cats eyes of a million miles, of exits and junctions telling me of places that I have never been to yet all had a story to tell.

I hope you enjoy it.



When We Were Young - LYRICS

Across the sand towards the shade
I'm looking back at the tracks I've made
The same old smile on the same old face
This sea-side town the same old place
But will there be a trace
Of when we were young
Of when we were young
Of when we were younger
Than today

And across the Maer onto the dunes
I listen to the skylarks tune.

I watch the children as they play
And how they steal my thoughts away
I'm running through another day
Of when we were young
Of when we were young
Of when we were younger
Than today

But I remember the heather on the moors
And the running home from top of the granite Tors
Down Watery Lane I'm chasing shadows once again
Of when we were young
But how the time will fly
Just pass you by
How the Time will fly
How the Time will fly

Take my hand and we'll walk in the sun
We'll talk of the past - of all we have done
Old stories are always the best
Remember the good - forget the rest
And we can just reminisce
Of when we were young
Of when we were young
Of when we were younger
Than today
Yesterday

The Story Behind The Song

Across the sand towards the shade we moved.
I was like a satellite to her planetary mass which moved slowly across the dunes, the sand buried her bunions making her curse gently for being so old and so slow.

In elliptical arcs I would spin off to collect shells, driftwood or nuggets of coloured sea-glass. In my childhood naivety I had no way of perceiving that each orbit was taking me further and further away, nor that my speed was increasing exponentially so, upon my return, my grandmother who was once the sole focus of my life and the centre of my universe, would become a blur; like a memory waiting to be forgotten.

So time continued and as my mass increased so hers diminished.
As my star became brighter, so she became dim.
My trajectories now took me so far away that my return visits became less and less frequent and even then my speed was such that I could never stay as long as she would have wanted, needed or loved.
Time for us was now so different.
For me it was the set-list, concert, the party, the festival. For her it was just the tick and the tock of a clock that was winding down.

Then I remembered.
The little boy who sat upon his grandmother's lap, pulling at her paper thin skin on her hands and, with tears in his eyes and consumed with love, blurted out,
“Oh Gran. You are getting so old and one day you will die!”
She laughed and pulling me to the buttons of her coat softly said,
“Oh child I hope so. After all, I don't want to be this old forever”.

One day she stopped being that old. Forever.


Fly A Little Further ...