Chris Rea knew that his record contract wasn’t going to be renewed when the label refused to pay for the return train journey from Middlesbrough to London, in December 1978. He had just about got enough to fund the trip ‘down south,’ so Joan, his wife, said she would pick him up at Abbey Road Studios in a couple of days time and drive him back north. It was less than ideal but, struggling musicians can’t be choosers. Especially when they’re currently banned from driving.
The sessions at Abbey Road were for his second album, Deltics. His debut album had been out for a few months and, while the first single, Fool If You Think It’s Over, had received some radio-play, the album had not done well. It had been expensive to make; produced by Gus Dudgeon, Elton John’s producer, and packed with stars like Rod Argent, Pete Wingfield and Dave Mattacks; so Chris was in substantial debt to Magnet Records until such time as the album generated enough profit to cover the cost. For now, he was being paid a small weekly wage, (welcome to the real world of the struggling artist.)
Joan pulled into the small car park at the front of No.3, Abbey Road in her little Austin Mini, and parked. As she waited, it began to snow. The traffic had been terrible and she wasn’t looking forward to the return journey, but at least she would have Chris next to her and they would be together for Christmas. After a while, her husband appeared through the large doors at the top of the famous steps and scanned the cars in the late afternoon gloom. Joan turned the Mini’s lights on and Chris raised his hand and headed down the steps towards her.
She turned the car left out of the car park and headed along Abbey Road towards Hendon and Edgeware and the A1.
The snow fell onto the car, the windscreen wipers whined and the oncoming lights dazzled. Chris had £220 in his jacket pocket and he kept playing with it, counting it. It was all the money they possessed.
At one set of traffic lights, Chris looked over at the driver in the next lane and realised that they were in the same boat. Or car. They’d finished work and were simply trying to to get home to their family through the traffic and the weather of north London.
At one point Chris sang;
“We’re driving home for Christmas.”
He pulled open the glove box and scrabbled around for a piece of paper and a pen. Then, whenever they were stopped under a streetlight, he began to scribble down lyrics. He told The Guardian, 38 years later;
“We eventually got home at 3am. It was so cold inside the house that the snow tumbled on to the doormat and didn’t melt. There was one letter – from PRS America. My song Fool (If You Think It’s Over) had been a hit in the US, so there was a cheque for £15,000. We went from being down to our last £220 to being able to buy a house. The song went in my old tin full of unfinished stuff.”
“Some years later, my career had turned around and [keyboard player] Max Middleton and I were testing two new pianos. We started joking around, playing this Count Basie-type thing. I pretended I was Nat King Cole. Someone said: “That’s a great tune, that. You should get it down.” I went back to my tin, and the words to Driving Home for Christmas fitted perfectly.”
The first version of Driving Home for Christmas came out in 1986. The record company wanted a couple of extra songs for a greatest hits compilation so an almost throwaway version was recorded and then added as the B-Side to the single, Hello Friend.
“I’d never intended to write a Christmas hit – I was a serious musician! So initially, the song came out on a B-side. Then a DJ flipped it over and started playing it, so Max suggested we re-record it and add some strings. Max played the distinctive jazzy intro, we did a classic 1950s Christmas carol-type arrangement, and loved it. At first, it was another radio hit – but then it started re-entering the Top 40 every year.”
Drummer, Martin Ditcham remembers recording the ‘posh version.’
“We recorded Driving Home for Christmas at Chris’s house near Maidenhead. He had a modest home studio – in what had been the garage, as I remember. As would often happen, I turned up for a coffee and a chinwag prior to doing something for him. The next thing I knew, I was in this little place laying down the drumbeat to this Christmassy track, even though it wasn’t Christmas. The song was already recorded and ready to go. I just overdubbed my parts: a bit of percussion, put some jingle bells in there, tucked away discreetly.
I thought it was a hooky little number, a pretty little song. I did lots with Chris, so at the time it was just another session, but it’s nice to be part of a song that’s turned out to be one of the most played Christmas singles of all time. You put on the radio or sit in the coffee bar, and it’s on. My daughter is 15. None of her friends know who the hell Chris Rea is but they know that song – as soon as it comes on, they start singing it. I’ve played with everyonefrom Status Quo to Talk Talk, but nothing impresses them as much as the fact that I play on Driving Home for Christmas.”
I suspect that the little song, written by the light of a street lamp, with snow falling, on a cold, December night, has earned Chris Rea more than anything else he’s ever written. Which is just as well, considering the desperate health problems he’s had, over the past thirty years, (peritonitis in 1994 and then pancreatic cancer in 2014 which resulted in the removal of the head of the pancreas and part of the duodenum, bile duct, and gall bladder. Since having this surgery he has had problems with diabetes and a weaker immune system, necessitating the need to take thirty-four pills and seven injections a day.)
At some point on that drive home from Abbey Road, Chris Rea scribbled down the line, ‘Top to toe in tailbacks,’ and I like to think he smiled to himself. It’s a delicious line; five words that trip off the tongue and never fail to make me smile, the first time I hear them, every Christmas.
Oh, and the teenage sweethearts, Chris and Joan, who first met at the age of 17, in 1968, are still together.
A wonderful story, very well told.
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Great stuff Niall, another little gem of a post. Thanks mate – I’m heading to the shelves to choose a Chris Rea LP for this evening’s listening.
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I have always liked the song & I think Chris Rea has made a lot of good stuff that gets a bit overlooked. Shamrock Diaries is a bit of a classic.
I always regretted not visiting Stainsby while I was still young, dumb and whatnot.
That song is crying out for a folk artist to cover it. It’s a modern (relatively) folk song.
Good shout.
I bought Shamrock Diaries on it’s release, mainly because I loved the singles Stainsby Girls, and Josephine. I haven’t played it for ages. Will have to give it a listen.
I clearly remember first hearing Stainsby Girls on the radio for the first time and it is one of my favourite songs, let alone a favourite of Chris’s catalogue. Great to hear others like it too!
I remember when it came out. I had a Saturday job in my local Waitrose (get me). I prided myself on my musical knowledge and a month or two before it came out, one of the other student employees, a girl about my age, professed her undying admiration for Chris Rea. I wondered who the hell she was talking about (he really wasn’t on many 16 year olds lists in 1985 I would suggest). A few months later I heard Stainsby Girls and Josephine and thought to myself that she had a pretty good taste in music.
Nice one, Niall.
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Lovely stuff @niallb. It came up on my Christmas shuffle in the week and it’s the first time I’d noticed the lyric “Toe to toe in tailbacks”. I thought then it was a terrific lyric. And a terrific song.
Thanks. My brother Martin, (the songwriter) said to me that it’s one of those lines that you dream of because it makes you re-examine the rest of what you’ve written, and raise it all up to that level.
Lovely story. Thanks for sharing.
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Lovely story.
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Thanks for writing this. I love stories like this and it makes you realise that it’s a fine line between failure and success for a struggling artist. This song also reminds me of my youngest brother, who loved this song. He sadly died in his mid 20s. I haven’t heard it yet this Christmas, but I will play it tonight and raise a glass for Chris for writing it, and wishing him all the best for the future, and a glass in memory of my brother.
Superlative writing Niall. A great story well told. Last I saw Chris was on the Gone Fishing Christmas special a couple of years back A great bloke who has made some fabulous songs. I do regret never seeing him live.
@SteveT, yes, me too. His early album Water Sign is packed with beautiful songs but was let down by poor production. I still play it a lot. Here’s Candles from it.
@Alan33 Thank you for posting that. I raise a glass to your brother too.🙏
Lovely stuff: a real winter warmer 👏👏
Back when I was lurking on the pre-Afterword site (whatever it was called), there was a chap called Backwards7 who seemed to produce delightfully-written stories like this that nimbly tell a tale. It’s a treat to read your writing, Niall.
Festive greetings to you.
@salwarpe, thank you. Backwards 7 was an absolute master of the short story, so I’m honoured to be in his company.
That story really cheered me up on a Monday morning. Great writing as always Niall.
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He’s someone who has passed me by I think I’ve only heard DHFC but I really enjoyed reading this.
Came across as a decent chap on Paul and Bob’s fishing programme.
One of the first to re-record his back catalogue, given it was bringing him in nowt, his New Light Through Old Windows is a more than satisfactory Best Of. A bit before Driving Home, if I recall, but, in time honoured, I always preferred his earlier stuff.
Ah yes: but do you like tennis?
Lovely stuff, Niall. One of your best.
I’ve admired his voice for a long time, and he’s not afraid of being sentimental. ‘Nothing’s Happening By The Sea’ from Water Sign is a particular favourite. Tied to a particular memory for me.
He used to live in Cookham in Berkshire, close to where we live, We once found ourselves sat at adjacent tables to him in the posh Indian restaurant there some while ago. He was in a black vest and black shorts. To be fair it was a humid summer evening.
All of the above and, if he runs you a bath, he’ll pop an egg in it for you..
I’ve always found it just a little bit twee, Fool If You Think it’s Over though, is fantastic. Guess we all have different tastes. I like Windy Town myself.
Gone at 74.
So sad to hear of his passing today. Feeling a bit maudlin now – it’s 9 years today that my dad died. Life can be shit sometimes.
Still he made some great songs and touched a lot of people -,God bless you Chris.
Sorry to hear that Steve. My Dad died on 3rd July but my brother and I decided not to mark it since it was probably the worst day ever so we mark his birthday on 16th June each year instead. It still gets a bit dusty though.
This post got me listening to Chris again in the last week or so. The man has gone but the music stays forever. Thanks @niallb.