Jake Stanley (53) may be one of the best singer-songwriters you’ve never heard of writes Moze Jacobs.
A friendly, energetic, dynamic presence on stage, Jake was born in Barnsley (UK) but moved with his family to Schull some 10 years ago. He is a multi-instrumentalist who plays bass, guitar, keyboard and has penned and almost single-handedly played (albeit together with some superb female vocalists, his daughter Madeleine and Susanna Goodwright) the music on the 10 Jake Stanley releases that are currently available on Bandcamp. These include five full albums plus several singles such as ‘Christmas is Cancelled’/‘Prayer for the Earth’, often containing emotionally intelligent lyrics as well as social commentary: “It was the night before lockdown, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring because of new legislation concerning social distancing.” He credits Duncan O’Cleirigh at Blackwater studios for helping him put his catalogue ‘out there’. “Without him, I probably would still be playing covers in hotel bars.”
His first West Cork Tour got off to a flying start when he performed ‘The Ballad of Will Jones’ in the Skibbereen Town Hall during Culture Night. A fictional “tale of love, trials and rivalry told in songs and spoken word interweaving three lives”, it is set against the historical backdrop of WWI, aka the Great War (1914-1918). “The narrative is about Will, a young man heading for America after being spurned by his lover, Molly, who has married his rival, Craven, a jealous, possessive, evil, rich, vainglorious swine. Each chapter has a corresponding song. I’m performing it with a wonderful ensemble. Pete Carney (bass), Kathy Henderson (keyboards, violin, and mighty vocals), Dave W. (mandolin), Kevin O’Shanahan (drums). It feels really good to have them in my corner.” The tour is part of the West Cork Feel Good Festival.
Jake’s extensive output on Bandcamp is self-produced and self-published. It is crystal clear that his music is quite unique. At the same time – and because everyone is influenced by something – there is one band that resonates firmly in the background (and occasionally in the foreground): The Beatles. Not that he copies them. It’s more subtle – as if John, Paul, George and Ringo are in his DNA. And that, it turns out, is almost literally true. “As a kid, I wanted to be a Beatle. One of the first bands I ever remember listening to. To me they were massive. I’d be hard-pressed to find artists that influenced me as ubiquitously. Not so much the teeny bopper stuff – ‘She Loves You, yeah, yeah, yeah’ – but what they produced in the latter part of their career. Starting with ‘Rubber Soul’. ‘Revolver’ is my favourite album. As a honest-to-goodness, working-class hero, I’m definitely in the John Lennon camp. Paul always seemed a bit too saccharine.” The Beatles had pride of place in his parents’ record collection. “Alongside the Stones, Bowie, the Eagles, all sorts of 60s and 70s stuff. My dad was a postman but he also played music. I remember asking him once if he’d teach me how to play guitar. I must have been seven or eight. He said, “The best way to learn is to teach yourself”. And walked away. One of my lifelong ambitions still is: to get him to compliment me. Yet, my first musical aha moment occurred precisely after he told me to figure it out for myself. I gave the guitar to my mum and said, “What do you do with this thing?” My mum couldn’t play a note but she knew that if you pressed a string, plucked it, and went up and down the fret, the pitch would change. She passed back the guitar and said, “That’s all I’ve got.” Once I understood the mechanics, everything started to flow. I remember being bought a book, the Bert Weedon Book of Chords that contained every chord known to man. Such as an E major suspended seventh, augmented fifth. I just spent hours and hours tracing my fingers across the guitar and learning these chords and I was pretty good by the time I was 12. I’ve often wondered if I’ve got Attention Deficit Disorder, as my mind tends to wander, but I’ve never, ever, had that problem while playing the guitar. The few times when I’ve gone on holiday, I’m sure its absence contributes to me not being the best company. I’m dreadful. Ask my wife, Annette.”
Did you start writing songs straight away?
“No! For a long time I only played covers. We figured out at 15-years-old, still in school, that learning well-known covers – Beatles, Dire Straits, Pink Floyd – could make us loads of money. We used to transport our amps and instruments to the venues in shopping trolleys as we were too young to drive. You could hire the local Montgomery Hall for 12 quid, including the PA. We’d sell tickets for a quid, get 120 people in. There were just three of us (bass, guitar, drums) so we were laughing. I was earning more than my Dad. Later, I would play in wedding bands, even got a two-record publishing deal with a band called Hokum. But I never crafted a decent song until my mid-40s. I think I had to sort of wait for life to happen to me enough. The first good song was ‘Plain Sailing’, which is on ‘The Tricks Of The Trade Won’t Save The Day’, my first album.”
He explains that it was written on the back of a deeply personal family tragedy in 2013 that he doesn’t want to describe in detail. Almost ashamed, he says: “Creatively, it shaped everything that came afterwards. Until then, I’d had a really frivolous relationship with music. It was just fun. This time, after a huge and sometimes very painful period of growth, I discovered that music could also be a therapeutic tool. That’s why I’m so happy to play the Feel Good Festival, which revolves around mental health, alongside the Tony Cotter Band. Both Tony and myself are living proof that creativity can help you go a long way towards recovery.”
During the Festival, Jake and Tony will play Shanley’s (Clonakilty, October 3), Ár-n-Áit (Skibbereen, October 4), O’Regan’s (Schull, October 16), Levis’ Corner House (Ballydehob, October 19), Bridge Street Community Café (Bantry, October 23), Connolly’s of Leap (October 26).
