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A Gift From A Flower To A Garden – or how I was (almost) cured of fandom

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Imagine a world where recorded music is both expensive and hard to find. No easily copied CDs or tapes and certainly none of your new-fangled streaming or downloadable MP3s. That was the world we record buyers inhabited back in the 60s. No megastores, Amazon, internet shopping or Spotify for us. No eBay, record fairs or car boot sales either. LPs were a major cash investment and as such were often restricted to birthdays or Christmas.
Thankfully, at that time London had a fair sprinkling of import record shops where cashed-up vinyl junkies could find solace. Here it was possible to pick up (albeit at a price) highly desirable US pressings of LPs that were either not yet released in Britain, or if they were available, the US versions invariably featured sumptuous heavy duty gatefold sleeves, posters or other inserts denied to UK buyers.
Now, due to a complicated legal situation, the details of which I’ll spare you here, Donovan’s UK releases were something of a dog’s breakfast at this time and for a couple of years much of his output was only available to British fans in the form of pricey US imports. Hence, from 1967 to 1970 I was a regular at One Stop Records in Berwick Street, Soho, picking up import copies of LPs which would not be released locally for many months, if at all.
Then in December 1967 I hit Donovan pay dirt. There it was, nestling in the new arrivals rack: A Gift From A Flower To A Garden, a double LP box set with eye watering, psychedelic artwork. Inside was an elaborate lyric sheet folder containing beautifully illustrated individual textured sheets for each song. One of the LPs featured 10 delightful pop psych gems while the other contained a dozen solo acoustic tracks. It had the title embossed in silver on the spine and a picture of Donovan holding hands with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi glued on the back.
Was this lovingly-crafted artifact pop’s first-ever boxed set? If there had been another I certainly hadn’t seen it. But most importantly, it would not be released in Britain for another five months! What could be more desirable?
There was just one problem, the hefty £5 asking price was prohibitively expensive, the equivalent of £136 today (yes I checked). Working as a lowly messenger boy in Soho I was earning the princely sum of just £8 (£218 today) a week. Forking out over half my weekly pay-packet to buy the Donovan LP would mean serious budgeting involving skipped lunches and in the days before electronic barriers, some creative tube travel.
But it was clearly meant to be and although it took a few weeks, I managed to scrimp and save to buy the precious object and still have it today, along with a couple of backup copies and of course the CD.
Now we jump ahead 30 years and 10,000 miles to Fremantle, Western Australia. It was July 4th, 1998 one of those dates you always remember, smack bang in the middle of the Aussie winter and of course it had been pissing down all day. A little thing like a monsoonal downpour was not going to deter me tonight, however. Donovan was playing a rare intimate solo show in front of 500 people at a tiny club in the Perth suburb and even if it meant standing in the rain for an hour or two, I was determined to grab pole position at the front of the queue. The bag of LP/CD sleeves I had brought to get signed were safely tucked away inside my shirt to protect them from the elements.
The club was laid out a little like Ronnie Scott’s in London with tables up the front and standing room only at the back, so my early arrival ensured I got a prime spot within touching distance of the stage.
I won’t trouble you with details of the show here (I still have a review I wrote for the local paper if anyone wants to see it), but at this particular club it was customary for the artists to come out into the bar afterwards to sign autographs, chat and mingle with the punters in an informal kind of way. I’d seen this happen at concerts by Richard Thompson, Bert Jansch, Fairport Convention, Ralph McTell and many others over the years, so expected the same from Donovan. I was wrong.
The show ended and after what seemed like an age, a folding card table and chair were set up at the front of the stage on which were piled a stack of Donovan’s then-current CD Sutras. Those wishing to meet him and/or get items signed (preferably after buying a copy of Sutras from a nearby underling, presumably) were instructed to form a line leading to the table. Then the man himself came out and sat down. He looked fantastic in satin and crushed velvet and I’m sure I caught a whiff of patchouli oil. As the line began to shuffle forward in hushed reverence my immediate thought was “this is what an audience with The Pope must be like”.
I noted that most people in the line were offering up miserable, ill-thought-out items to be signed: ticket stubs or damaged posters they had hurriedly ripped from the wall of the foyer seemed be the norm, while a few copies of Sutras were also in evidence. Then it was my turn.
Out came my carrier bag containing 8 or 9 mint original 60s LP sleeves and around the same number of CD booklets (which I had thoughtfully removed from the jewel cases). Far from being impressed at this show of love and devotion for his impressive body of work, Donovan seemed momentarily stunned. He looked aghast at the pile of sleeves, then looked back at me, then back to the sleeves and sighed. His body language said, unmistakably, “Do I really have to sign all this shit?” Now remember, this is before eBay took off, so there was no suggestion that I was getting the records signed to resell. I honestly think he found it a tiresome chore to sign so many items.
He did sign them all, but there was no discussion and certainly no acknowledgement of the records themselves. Just a limp handshake and that was it, before I shuffled off into the rainy night.
Well, they do say you should never meet your heroes, don’t they?

http://i.imgur.com/1kH0Acf.jpg

2

Comments

  2. I was “lucky” enough to be working on the buses when this came out, having been booted out of Warwick U and waiting for publishing to come calling. I was doing all the overtime I could and was pulling in a shitload, probably 25-30 quid a week. Gave a bit to my mum, and the rest was available for elpees, with a little left over for Watneys Red Barrel and Players No.6. So I will have skipped along to the record shop and slapped down the necessary fiver.

  3. I have an original Flower To a Garden mono box set too. Great record and package; I didn’t pay for it but swapped it with a mate for something else I no longer wanted. Probably Genesis or Cream or Van Der Graaf Generator or some band I went off like that. Another LP I acquired from the same friend was a lovely mono copy of Forever Changes, which I now have framed as I got it signed by Arthur Lee and John Echols.

    I thought your punchline was going to be that Donovan signed it but the writing washed off in the rain on the way home. That actually happened to me with a Noel Murphy LP many moons ago.

    I have also met Donovan. He was lovely. Let me tell you – he is much nicer than Arthur Lee was.

    • I’ve thought long and hard about the way Donovan acted that night and can only assume it was because he still sees himself as a major global star and felt the tiny club date was beneath him.

      A few weeks later he played an outdoor festival in South America in front of an arena sized crowd, and I guess that was the protocol for a big show.

      Tell us about your Arthur Lee encounter.

  4. I think I may have posted this on the old blog in another life, so apologies if so. But here it is again. 17 years later, it reads a little too much like a fan club entry, I feel.

    DONOVAN
    Fly By Night Club, Fremantle, Western Australia
    Saturday 4th July 1998

    Let’s not beat about the bush: Donovan has had far too many hits for his own good. Admittedly, it’s a problem most performers of his vintage would willingly trade their pension schemes for but it’s a problem nonetheless. What it means is that these days his concerts have a tendency to sail perilously close to the rocky shores of nostalgia. While there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with that, those who are old enough to remember the Scottish troubadour at his psychedelic, stadia-filling peak may feel a twinge of regret as they witness his inexorable slide into what is rapidly beginning to resemble the oldies circuit.

    But on a cold and blustery winter’s evening in Fremantle, none of that seemed to matter. Donovan’s distinctive brand of acoustic pop/folk whimsy has long since proved itself virtually timeless; able to cross social and generational boundaries with a single leap and capable of warming the cockles of all but the most misanthropic heart.

    Kicking off with his 1965 debut hit Catch The Wind, all the familiar tunes were presented in roughly chronological order, each one having its own tale to tell. Hurdy Gurdy Man, for instance, was prefaced by a delightful (if oft-told) anecdote concerning the Beatles, Beach Boy Mike Love and Mia Farrow. We heard how Donovan wrote the song in India alongside the Fab Four during their 1968 sabbatical to study meditation under the Maharishi. In the spirit of the times George Harrison contributed a verse for Hurdy Gurdy Man, but this was ultimately edited from the original single due to the guitar solo running over length. Needless to say, the crowd went ballistic as the Quiet One’s long-lost verse was finally aired.

    A trio of songs from Donovan’s most recent album, the Rick Rubin-produced Sutras sat comfortably amid the array of hit singles, proving he can still find his way around a gentle, melodic ballad when the need arises. One wonderfully spontaneous moment occurred when someone in the audience yelled out a request for Intergalactic Laxative. To everyone’s delight, the infamous Cosmic Wheels ditty cropped up midway through a generous 10 song encore. “I can’t believe I wrote that song” Don chuckled as the applause finally subsided.

    But it was the hits the people had come to hear and they didn’t go home disappointed. Colours, Universal Soldier, Jennifer Juniper, Josie and Wear Your Love Like Heaven all sounded just as fresh and vibrant as ever. Others, such as Atlantis, Mellow Yellow, Barabajagal and Sunshine Superman – great songs all – suffered somewhat from the basic solo acoustic guitar treatment.

    With such a sizeable back catalogue to draw on, Donovan could quite easily have played a far more eclectic and varied set than this without sacrificing too many of the hits. As it was, we got the chartbusters and very little else. A splendid time was undoubtedly enjoyed by all, but he needs to reclaim some of the middle ground again, and soon, otherwise those 60s nostalgia dates can’t be too far away.

    Set List:
    • Catch The Wind
    • The Enchanted Gypsy
    • Colours
    • Sand & Foam
    • The Universal Soldier
    • The Little Tin Soldier
    • Please Don’t Bend
    • Eldorado
    • Wear Your Love Like Heaven
    • The Promise
    • Jennifer Juniper
    • Lalena
    • Donna, Donna
    • Hurdy Gurdy Man
    • Sunshine Superman
    • Mellow Yellow
    • Barabajagal
    ——————————
    Encore:
    • Atlantis
    • Season Of The Witch
    • Only The Lonely
    • Remember The Alamo
    • Josie
    • To Susan On The West Coast Waiting
    • Intergalactic Laxative
    • Hey Gyp
    • Sleep
    • There Is A Mountain

  6. I have a bit of sympathy for him JC. I don’t think he’s a natural meet’n’greet sort of guy. At least he signed it. More than you’d expect from some. Ringo ‘Peace and love X Infinity’ Starr for instance.

  8. Being a Dylan snob I publically and consistently denounced Donovan as a pale imitation of The Real Thing. From a Flower to a Garden fell into my hands after a party (no theft occurred unless you count taking advantage of someone even more stoned than me).
    It confirmed all my prejudices and I quickly passed it on to some stupid hippy.
    Haven’t listened to it since – has it aged and matured gracefully much as I have? Should I give it a spin?

    • Thanks hen. The acoustic album has more than a few twee moments, I must confess. But the electric album has aged gracefully and is now a psych classic.

      I never understood the Dylan comparisons though. Except right at the start when both men were aping Woody Guthrie, I never saw much similarity between Bob and Don.

      • My rock-hard, unflinching prejudices back then were seldom based on fact just mere youthful folly. Today, of course, my rock-hard, unflinching prejudices are based on aged folly backed up with a pinch of old-man-grumpy and a tiny sprinkling of rational reasoning.

        Will give the electric album a spin later – somehow it has managed to find a quiet neglected & dusty corner in my collection…..

          • Careful with the Dylan /Donovan comparisons. It might stir up the old Alan Price/Don’t Look Back/knobhead fiasco.
            “Creative tube travel”- It was important to have an intimate knowledge of the station you claimed to have got on at. Acton Town to South Ealing was apparently my most regular journey.
            I’ve never owned GFAFTAG but I do remember it fondly. The packaging was beautiful.

            • Let me say firstly – despite everything I say above I secretly rather liked Donovan, especially whatever album Season of the Witch was on.

              But crumbs FAFTAG is god-awful! That irritating affected phrasing – how can he murder “periwinkle” so?? Add in twee arrangements and mind-numbing I’m A Poet (A Very Very Bad Poet) lyrics all clothed in the worst excesses of sixties twaddle and you have this appalling record – and a bastard double as well which in the interest of science I listened to all the way through! Thank god Mrs S was out this afternoon…….. heaven knows how I would have extracted that CD from my arse.

              To sum up, I’d rather listen to the collected works of Bloody Joanna Newsom or watch Head on a 24 hour loop than go through that torture again

  10. Johnny, you writing is so eloquent and persuasive. However, I have an issue with Donovan. His greatest hits collections are perfectly fine. His albums, though, have, how shall I put it, weak moments and I end up dissatisfied.

    Apart from Sunshine Superman, is there an album of his worth its salt? I’m quite happy to explore US versions if they include contemporary singles that enhance the overall experience.

  11. My friend Chris was official photographer for Arthur Lee on UK tours. Arthur was notoriously difficult and rarely in a good enough mood to sign anything for anyone, so Chris ended up toting my LP around for weeks on tour until Arthur finally agreed to sign it for me. To be honest, I’m just grateful to Arthur that he did. I am even more grateful to Chris for making the effort to persevere for me.

    The thing with Donovan is that he is a perfectly nice guy but he has a huge ego. Specifically, he really believes that he was one of the great movers and shakers of 1960s culture, and is completely unaware just how pompous he can seem when he repeatedly tells everyone and anybody this at any given opportunity.

  12. I saw Donovan on the first night of his 50th Anniversary Tour in Glasgow a few weeks back. he closed by singing/miming/dancing to the actual track – with vocals – of Mellow Yellow. The rest of the night was just him with his guitar. Thankfully.

  13. Tigger, there’s an excellent 3CD Donovan collection called Breezes Of Patchoulli. It collects together his 5 best late 1960s LPs on 3 discs. I saw it in Sainsburys for 9 quid recently. Other than those, his best 70s records are HMS Donovan and Open Road. Only Sutras (produced by Rick Rubin) from 1997 or so is worth getting after that though I’m afraid.

    • On a point of detail. Breezes Of Patchoulli is 4 CDs. It contains his entire 60s output from Sunshine Superman onwards + rarities and singles.

      Everything before that (including the first two acoustic LPs + rarities & singles) is on the double CD Summer Day Reflection Songs)

      The early 70s LPs HMS Donovan & Open Road keep going in and out of print and are sometimes hard to find.

      Open Road is worth a listen as it’s Donovan’s Let It Be a stripped-back rock alum without a trace of his earlier psych influences.

  14. Marvellous. Feels like we were there with you on the front table. The concept of signing items at a trestle table is one adopted at most memorabilia shows. When at the G-MEX we hosted many such events and usually you have to pay a fixed amount to buy a celeb’s photo or artefact from a minion before your few seconds with the man/woman/alien of choice. If you wanted your own item signed the said amount was still required. No pay, no play. Although usually the format of choice for sci-fi buffs this is becoming a format adopted for fading pop stars. We had the likes of Jeff Wayne & two-thirds of the Goodies there one weekend. Now they WERE miserable bleeders.

    Never meet your heroes? I shall be putting that to the test (again) this coming Saturday.

  15. Enjoyed that Johnny, great story which brought back many memories for me. My AGFAFTAG mysteriously vanished at a party a long, long time ago.

    Arthur Lee grumpy sod then, met him again (fleetingly) in the 00`s a different man, sorely missed.

  16. Went to a Donovan Q and A at Green Man a few years ago.

    Atmosphere turned pretty frosty when he suggested that anyone suffering from ill fortune, starvation, war had in some way willed it upon themselves.

    Cutting at least half of his anecdotes off 90% of the way through to then say ‘and you’ll have to come and see me tonight to hear the end of that story’ pretty much killed off any remaining warmth in the room.

  17. Great piece, JC.

    When ‘Gift’ came out I was working in a South Kensington record shop (Mascall’s). Not exactly an import shop in the mold of One Stop, although it did carry a large stock of foreign records (mainly French, Indian, Arabian etc) before there was such a thing as ‘World Music’, presumably to cater for the various Embassies in the area. Anyway, we had some copies of the ‘Gift’ box set when it came out and I don’t remember selling any. I was on the princely sum of £12 a week (for 5 and a half days) and lusted mightily after the set. In the end I just couldn’t afford it, even with the staff discount, and went for Roland Kirk’s ‘Here Comes The Whistleman’ instead.

    Interesting question as to whether ‘Gift’ was the first ever box set. There were definitely some classical box sets, and those Readers Digest collections but I can’t recall any earlier pop/rock sets.

    • Thanks JJ. Great story.

      Yes, at that time the box set was the preserve of the classical or jazz album as you say. It’s an indication of how big Donovan was in 1967.

      Mascall’s? I vaguely remember a record shop next to South Ken. Tube station. What was the location?

      • Yes, that was Mascall’s. The owner was the owner of the label that put out Rugby Songs albums as well as one by Arthur Mullard. Being in South Ken, we used to get quite a few famous faces,eg Justin De Villeneuve, manager of Twiggy (his real name was the more prosaic Nigel Davies) and, memorably, Pink Floyd after their 1968 Hyde Park concert.

    • These days I suppose it would be more organised with a specified number of items signed etc, but 20 years ago things were more relaxed.

      And much as I love his music, Donovan certainly has an inflated sense of self-importance

      I did exactly the same thing with Fairport and others at the same venue, standing at the bar, mind you, and not shuffling past reverentially with cap in hand.

      Simon Nicol and Dave Pegg couldn’t have been more friendly ,passing the LP sleeves around and making witty comments about them. Peggy even added “me with hair” under his signature on many LPs.

      His obsession with his own baldness continued right to the end. As we shook hands, he called after me “And remember, look after that hair!”

  19. Donovan was the first pop star I ever encountered. Around ’66, he and Gypsy Dave were travelling round the Weatern Isles in a crummy little van. They were having lunch in my uncle’s restaurant, so I got an early tip-off. I sped downtown in my school uniform, only to find another couple of hundred teenyboppers milling outside,
    Eventually, the two scruffbags left the restaurant to massed squealing and some grabbing from the hottest girls in school. Donovan clearly enjoyed this. It was our own small-town brush with fame and fan-mania.
    30 years later, I encountered him backstage at an Oirish outdoor festival. We were sheltering from the pissing rain in a small marquee, so I took it upon myself to say Hi and remind him of his brief excursion to our island. He could not have been more distant, more unfriendly and unwilling to indulge in any chat whatsoever. Arrogant fucking hippie.
    Maybe I’d interrupted his train of thought while he was thinking through yet another world-shattering innovation, or maybe he’s just one of those dickheads who imagines their star still burns fiercely and see no need to communicate with the little people.
    Still like some of his music though.

    • I know someone that hung out/tripped with him at Donovan’s then house . They said he was totally a sound bloke. Under the then ensuing events, that’s enough for me .

  20. Never mind the eye watering psychedelic artwork, how about the eye watering liner notes from “thy humble minstrel”?

    Oh, what a Dawn Youth is Rising to.

    With all the Love in my Heart I bequeath this gift from one flower to many.

    I wish only to enhance and beautify the days of youth that in doing so their young minds be filled with pleasant images.

    “Phonograph the First” may be described as music for my age group, an age group which is gently entering marriage.

    The children of the dawning generation are already being born.
    To these dear “little ones” I bequeath the second phonograph record.

    A new born child is a pure and Holy flower and it is possible to tend and water this child-plant with due care and attention that it may blossom and seek the Sun.

    It is only Right.

    I honestly believe my generation is a blessed* one and that we will tend to these newborn ones, so fresh from God’s lips.

    We shall fill their days with fairies and elves and pussys and paints, with laughter and song and the gentle influence of Mother Nature.

    To fulfill this all-important task we ourselves need the children’s tales, once so loved in bygone days.

    Tales in song and in books.
    Toys of wood and paper.
    Homes of warmth and comfort, with love and smiles.

    No child shall be lonely.

    And so I sing my poems of the beauty I see that all may see and know the re-assurance I know, that God is Love.

    I call upon every youth to stop the use of all Drugs and banish them into the dark and dismal places.
    For they are crippling our blessed growth.

    Must you lay down your Fate
    to the Lord High Alchemy
    In the hands of the Chalk and the Drug
    Magic circles he will spin
    and dirges he will sing
    through the transparency of a
    Queen Ant’s Wing

    Yes, I call upon every youth to stop the use of all Drugs and heed the Quest to seek the Sun.

    These poems are for youth, that is true, but they are fluid in their nature and may be enjoyed by All.

    And I’m sure no adult man or woman will be offended if I direct them to my generation and our children to be. To the blessed inheritors of all these lands.

    New horizons could not be reached in my work had I not the parental assurance of the most advanced recording company. Epic Records have followed my dreams to these Shores of Song.
    For which I thank them deeply.

    I do hope you enjoy my new writings.

    Thy humble minstrel
    Donovan

    * One need only look at our frustrated youth to see the fantastic amount of misdirected energy.

    • Alternatively, here are the lyrics to the Frank Zappa song We’re Turning Again

      They were mellow
      They were yellow
      They were wearing smelly blankets
      They were Donovan fans

      They walkin’ ’round
      With stupid flowers
      In they hair and everywhere

      They tried to stuff ’em up the guns
      Of all the cops
      And other servants of the law
      Who tried to push ’em around
      And later mowed ’em down

      But they were full of all that shit
      That they believed in
      So what the fuck?

  22. A wonderful tale beautifully told JC. Reminds me a little of Jude the Obscure going to visit the man who wrote a hymn that really moved moved him and finding he was a total breadhead. Was Thomas Hardy a fanboy who’d had a similar experience? A strange thought.

    Some artists are wonderful in that meet and greet situation. Mr Leitch clearly isn’t. But that was a pretty fine set he played.

  23. In Hardy’s novel, Jude the Obscure, there is a hymn that the eponymous hero becomes extremely fond of. He is convinced that the man who wrote it must be a very wise and spiritual person. Finding out that he lives locally, he pays a visit and is bitterly disappointed to discover that the composer is a very materialistic, unsympathetic individual who has given up music for wine importing as there’s more money in it.

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