Dave Lull, patron saint of the internet, emails to inform me that 1960s singer-songwriter Donovan Leitch is to stage a comeback with a new band.
Surprising news, since Donovan retired from music in 1970 to concentrate on his career as one of Britain’s leading name-droppers. The very title of the Independent’s story – Me, The Beatles and The Maharishi (…not to mention the Stones and Bob Dylan) – is illustrative of Mr Leitch’s prodigious skills in this area and indeed if the man himself is to be believed, Donovan not only has by far the strongest claim of all contenders to being “the fifth Beatle”, but could probably even challenge Ringo’s status as the fourth. He also invented pop-folk music, the toaster and sex.
Very much a mixed bag, Donovan’s output. The song Atlantis neatly summarises his oeuvre: a tremendously singable chorus (way dooooown below the oceeaann), preceded by a spoken-word passage of some of the most twee hippy twaddle ever committed to vinyl. I have somewhere in my CD collection a live version of Hurdy Gurdy Man that includes an interminable and nigh intolerably self-indulgent anecdote about hanging out with the Beatles and the Maharishi: an anecdote Donovan is apparently still telling forty years on.
But for all that he did make some terrific records. Catch the Wind, Season of the Witch, Mellow Yellow and Sunshine Superman are all still in circulation (i.e. used in telly ads), and Sunny Goodge Street is just lovely.
He also made the rather wonderful double album for children, HMS Donovan. Doesn’t stop him being a prize arse of course…
Is he sitting on a toadstool in the picture at the top?
The movie made by about God, Don’t Look Back, well, Pennebaker about Dylan actually, shows Donovan in true light, dim. Jennifer bleedin’ Juniper one of his most cataclysmic, listening to that akin to being waterboarded. They were the days man, stick your fag in the end of your acoustic and call yourself a folk singer. One of his descendants is about to lead the Labour party.
Message for Donovan
Look out kid its something that you did, God knows when but you’re doing it again you’d better duck down the alleyway looking for a new friend, a man in a coonskin cap in a pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, you only got ten……….
Speaking of dim, I believe one of his daughters married Shaun Ryder or something. Do like a bit of Hurdy Gurdy Man however. The Butthole Surfers version is totally deranged, but by making the twaddle overt loses menace.
I knew another ‘Fifth Beatle’ – their publicity manager Derek Taylor (no, actually, not quite true… I knew his son). Funny how these people can only count to five.
There was only ONE Beatle – George Martin.
The others were projections.