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Beware of the Bull: The enigmatic genius of Jake Thackray
At long last – after decades of waiting – and 20 years after his passing, the first, much-anticipated biography of the late, great Yorkshire singer/songwriter Jake Thackray. Admired by such as Neil Gaiman, Jarvis Cocker, Jon Richardson and Arctic Monkeys, Jake was one of the greatest and most original songwriters of the 20th century; a unique talent and master storyteller, whose songs full of wit, poetry, irreverence and humanity are as relevant as ever. In Beware of the Bull, a life as extraordinary as his writing is unearthed – the hard childhood in the terrace streets of Leeds; a remarkable Catholic education and formative years in France and war-torn Algeria; a first career as an inspirational and highly creative teacher; his meteoric development as a writer and performer, and discovery by the BBC; Jake’s Abbey Road recordings and his impact on John Lennon and The Beatles; the fame and fortune ... and his rejection of it all. It’s the story of a charismatic, complex and self-effacing man who remained an enigma even to his friends. The book has been written with the full support of the Thackray family. With exclusive access to his personal papers, it includes a wealth of previously unpublished letters, poetry and lyrics, and is illustrated with many rare and never-before-seen photographs. Through it all, Jake’s voice is heard afresh, and his life and work better understood
480 pages, Hardcover
Published August 11, 2022
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About the author
Paul Thompson
238 books8 followersLibrarian Note: There are more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
January 12, 2024
‘Comedy songwriter’ is how Jake Thackray is usually pigeonholed but that scarcely does justice to the subtle complexity of his work. His beautiful songs combine the cynical and the sentimental, the poetic and the profane, warmth and acerbity, subversive social comment with bawdy celebration of the life force. An anarchic and iconoclastic word-juggler of rare dexterity he punctured the pompous and celebrated the outsider. And, oh yes, he was very funny.
This book takes its title from The Bull which is arguably the ultimate Jake Thackray song and the one which most perfectly encapsulates his world view. The Bull, with mesmerising and exhilarating satirical poetic aplomb, mercilessly skewers authority, the powerful, the church, false idols and celebrity. In a characteristically self-deprecating touch in the final verse he points the finger at himself. It’s a gloriously liberated and liberating song. Curiously enough, it was written around the time of punk rock, but its message is more genuinely anarchistic than anything the Sex Pistols ever came up with.
A fine bundle of paradoxes, Thackray was a man in denial of his own genius and in flight from success: a performer who could command large fees in large theatres but preferred playing in tiny folk clubs or pubs for next to nothing. There’s a wonderful photograph on the back of this book, showing him performing in a hotel in 1969, which captures the essence of his informal approach. He’s perched on a couple of stacked bar stools, there is no stage and the audience sit and stand around him some with drinks to hand. It’s as though a private party is in progress and Jake has been persuaded to sing a couple of songs. This was exactly how he liked it. Despising the falsity of the encore ritual he would drily announce ‘that was my last song and now I’m going to sing four more’.
Unfortunately, his distrust of showbiz types extended even to himself. He had audiences eating out of his hand but was genuinely puzzled why anyone would pay ‘good money’ to see him. Everyone thought Jake Thackray was brilliant except, it would seem, Jake Thackray. He eventually became notorious for not turning up to gigs and regaling his agent with ever more bizarre excuses (‘a snowdrift in August’). Overcome with guilt at letting his audience down Thackray would then reschedule the gig and play for free. Show business is littered with examples of artists who were eventually deserted by their audiences but Thackray is a rare example of an artist who deserted his audience.
He became a regular voice and face on radio and television while still having played very few gigs. This was unusual at a time when most musicians first established a local reputation through live appearances before moving on to a larger stage. Indeed, his early career was largely enabled by the BBC with even his EMI recording deal being secured through contacts he made at the corporation. He first came to national attention in Britain through popular television programmes like Braden’s Weekly and That’s Life and it’s strange now to think of such an idiosyncratic talent in such a mainstream context.
But little about Thackrays’ career makes much much sense. He was in his mid-twenties before he first picked up a guitar, inspired by hearing French chansonnier Georges Brassens, and a succession of remarkable songs flowed mysteriously out of the aether. Thackray took Bressons’ anti-establishment spirit and storytelling style and relocated it to the North of England but the voice that emerged from his songs was singularly his own. By the end of the seventies, however, his muse had absconded leaving Jake reduced, in his own words, to the role of a ‘performing dick’ endlessly trotting out the same old repertoire. He clearly came to detest the whole business.
On the surface this is your typical showbiz rise and fall saga but Thackray wasn’t in any sense typical so that allows for another way of looking at it. Perhaps in those final years in Monmouth living alone in his council flat, attending the church and the pub, he finally found the anonymity he seemed to have been looking for. No longer a ‘performing dick’ or ‘a real Archie Rice’ he was simply ‘Jake’ a valued member of the community but nobody special. For a lifelong socialist and determined evader of the limelight it seems entirely fitting in a bittersweet sort of way; just like the bittersweet quality to be heard in his songs.
It’s taken twenty years since his death for a biography to appear but Thompson and Watterson have served their enigmatic subject admirably. They haven’t solved the enigma but they have written a loving and insightful portrait of a complex and fascinating artist. There is an undeniable sadness to this story but, mercifully, they tread lightly around the tragic aspects preferring instead to celebrate the individuality of the man and his talent. And, as any good biography of an artist should, it sent me straight back to the work: that deliciously lugubrious baritone with its impeccably clipped enunciation and those warm, wayward, ribald, humane, touching, irreverent and life-enhancing vignettes replete with the absurd joy of being alive.
This book takes its title from The Bull which is arguably the ultimate Jake Thackray song and the one which most perfectly encapsulates his world view. The Bull, with mesmerising and exhilarating satirical poetic aplomb, mercilessly skewers authority, the powerful, the church, false idols and celebrity. In a characteristically self-deprecating touch in the final verse he points the finger at himself. It’s a gloriously liberated and liberating song. Curiously enough, it was written around the time of punk rock, but its message is more genuinely anarchistic than anything the Sex Pistols ever came up with.
A fine bundle of paradoxes, Thackray was a man in denial of his own genius and in flight from success: a performer who could command large fees in large theatres but preferred playing in tiny folk clubs or pubs for next to nothing. There’s a wonderful photograph on the back of this book, showing him performing in a hotel in 1969, which captures the essence of his informal approach. He’s perched on a couple of stacked bar stools, there is no stage and the audience sit and stand around him some with drinks to hand. It’s as though a private party is in progress and Jake has been persuaded to sing a couple of songs. This was exactly how he liked it. Despising the falsity of the encore ritual he would drily announce ‘that was my last song and now I’m going to sing four more’.
Unfortunately, his distrust of showbiz types extended even to himself. He had audiences eating out of his hand but was genuinely puzzled why anyone would pay ‘good money’ to see him. Everyone thought Jake Thackray was brilliant except, it would seem, Jake Thackray. He eventually became notorious for not turning up to gigs and regaling his agent with ever more bizarre excuses (‘a snowdrift in August’). Overcome with guilt at letting his audience down Thackray would then reschedule the gig and play for free. Show business is littered with examples of artists who were eventually deserted by their audiences but Thackray is a rare example of an artist who deserted his audience.
He became a regular voice and face on radio and television while still having played very few gigs. This was unusual at a time when most musicians first established a local reputation through live appearances before moving on to a larger stage. Indeed, his early career was largely enabled by the BBC with even his EMI recording deal being secured through contacts he made at the corporation. He first came to national attention in Britain through popular television programmes like Braden’s Weekly and That’s Life and it’s strange now to think of such an idiosyncratic talent in such a mainstream context.
But little about Thackrays’ career makes much much sense. He was in his mid-twenties before he first picked up a guitar, inspired by hearing French chansonnier Georges Brassens, and a succession of remarkable songs flowed mysteriously out of the aether. Thackray took Bressons’ anti-establishment spirit and storytelling style and relocated it to the North of England but the voice that emerged from his songs was singularly his own. By the end of the seventies, however, his muse had absconded leaving Jake reduced, in his own words, to the role of a ‘performing dick’ endlessly trotting out the same old repertoire. He clearly came to detest the whole business.
On the surface this is your typical showbiz rise and fall saga but Thackray wasn’t in any sense typical so that allows for another way of looking at it. Perhaps in those final years in Monmouth living alone in his council flat, attending the church and the pub, he finally found the anonymity he seemed to have been looking for. No longer a ‘performing dick’ or ‘a real Archie Rice’ he was simply ‘Jake’ a valued member of the community but nobody special. For a lifelong socialist and determined evader of the limelight it seems entirely fitting in a bittersweet sort of way; just like the bittersweet quality to be heard in his songs.
It’s taken twenty years since his death for a biography to appear but Thompson and Watterson have served their enigmatic subject admirably. They haven’t solved the enigma but they have written a loving and insightful portrait of a complex and fascinating artist. There is an undeniable sadness to this story but, mercifully, they tread lightly around the tragic aspects preferring instead to celebrate the individuality of the man and his talent. And, as any good biography of an artist should, it sent me straight back to the work: that deliciously lugubrious baritone with its impeccably clipped enunciation and those warm, wayward, ribald, humane, touching, irreverent and life-enhancing vignettes replete with the absurd joy of being alive.
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October 29, 2023One of the true greats, no one comes close.
October 24, 2022
Jake Thackray was one of those people who popped up at odd times on TV in the 70’s and then seemingly disappeared. I remember seeing him on “That’s Life” with his distinctive voice and style. Here, we have a scrupulously researched account of his seeming rise and fall.
Thackray was a wonderful friend, stimulating teacher, and a difficult person to manage and ultimately to live with. His songs, with all their verbal wit, are about puncturing pomposity in all its forms; hence the title. This is a book crafted out of a love for those songs and the man behind them. Sadly, for Thackray, his dislike for those on pedestals meant that he made sure that his own success would be punctured too.
The subtitle is as important as the title, when reading the book. Thackray didn’t believe in his own talent, would not turn up for gigs, fearing failure. He could mock the trappings of Catholicism in his songs but still devoutly attend mass every week. We expect performers to want to be successful, to play bigger venues and reach a wider audience. Here was someone who preferred the small folk club to the big stage, frustrating his managers and those who had promoted him. His lack of confidence and increasing need of alcohol to keep going would ultimately exclude some of those closest to him.
And it isn’t clear why - he was so good. That is the unanswered question and the enigma of the title.
It is hard to see how this book could have been better. The family have opened up his notebooks and their memories. Many of his friends and those who worked with him have shared their memories. Cuttings libraries and BBC archives have been trawled. It is a comprehensive and very readable account of his life and work. I would have loved to know more about why he did what he did, or more accurately why he didn’t do what he could have done, but then that is what he didn’t let on.
Let us hope that it leads to more people discovering the songs and the voice behind them.
Thackray was a wonderful friend, stimulating teacher, and a difficult person to manage and ultimately to live with. His songs, with all their verbal wit, are about puncturing pomposity in all its forms; hence the title. This is a book crafted out of a love for those songs and the man behind them. Sadly, for Thackray, his dislike for those on pedestals meant that he made sure that his own success would be punctured too.
The subtitle is as important as the title, when reading the book. Thackray didn’t believe in his own talent, would not turn up for gigs, fearing failure. He could mock the trappings of Catholicism in his songs but still devoutly attend mass every week. We expect performers to want to be successful, to play bigger venues and reach a wider audience. Here was someone who preferred the small folk club to the big stage, frustrating his managers and those who had promoted him. His lack of confidence and increasing need of alcohol to keep going would ultimately exclude some of those closest to him.
And it isn’t clear why - he was so good. That is the unanswered question and the enigma of the title.
It is hard to see how this book could have been better. The family have opened up his notebooks and their memories. Many of his friends and those who worked with him have shared their memories. Cuttings libraries and BBC archives have been trawled. It is a comprehensive and very readable account of his life and work. I would have loved to know more about why he did what he did, or more accurately why he didn’t do what he could have done, but then that is what he didn’t let on.
Let us hope that it leads to more people discovering the songs and the voice behind them.
January 30, 2023
I have early memories of Jake Thackray, on television on Braden's Week. My mother disliked him: 'he chews his words,' she said. I was too young to appreciate him. Later, at university, I got him (and Tom Lehrer, about the same time) and was bowled over. He had comic flights of the imagination and dressed them up in lop-sided tunes and song structures and with hilarious world-class word-bending. Later I came to appreciate the sadder, more serious pieces too.
And then, little by little and almost without me noticing, he slipped from view.
It was more - and worse - than simply fading, running out of ideas and falling out of fashion. Performance was always a trial for him in any venue bigger than an upstairs room in a pub; the demands of show-biz and the long hours and miles on the road gradually sapped his confidence and spirit. In turn, this all took the fun out of his work and made it a chore, so the writing dried up. He stopped taking care of business - was never very good at it - stopped even turning up for bookings, and slipped from being a social drinker into a problem drinker into outright, catastrophic alcoholism, bankruptcy and the end of his marriage, dying alone in a rented flat at only 64. Oh that someone had been able to take care of him in the way he couldn't for himself, shielding him from the aspects of performing that he found difficult and leaving him some headspace for the rest. It's a story that reminds me of an equally loved, missed and thin-skinned, but very different, songwriter, Nick Drake.
It should have been a triumphant life. This biography doesn't shirk the unbelievable sadness of the ending, but it makes damn sure that we learn about the triumphs on the way. Written with deep knowledge, understanding and love of the man and his work, it's a fine tribute to a brilliant wordsmith and performer, the first and best English chansonnier.
And then, little by little and almost without me noticing, he slipped from view.
It was more - and worse - than simply fading, running out of ideas and falling out of fashion. Performance was always a trial for him in any venue bigger than an upstairs room in a pub; the demands of show-biz and the long hours and miles on the road gradually sapped his confidence and spirit. In turn, this all took the fun out of his work and made it a chore, so the writing dried up. He stopped taking care of business - was never very good at it - stopped even turning up for bookings, and slipped from being a social drinker into a problem drinker into outright, catastrophic alcoholism, bankruptcy and the end of his marriage, dying alone in a rented flat at only 64. Oh that someone had been able to take care of him in the way he couldn't for himself, shielding him from the aspects of performing that he found difficult and leaving him some headspace for the rest. It's a story that reminds me of an equally loved, missed and thin-skinned, but very different, songwriter, Nick Drake.
It should have been a triumphant life. This biography doesn't shirk the unbelievable sadness of the ending, but it makes damn sure that we learn about the triumphs on the way. Written with deep knowledge, understanding and love of the man and his work, it's a fine tribute to a brilliant wordsmith and performer, the first and best English chansonnier.
September 12, 2022
I've seen a lot of love for this book online, and rightly so. It's a beautiful read that charts the rise, further rise, then fall of the great songwriter and performer, from the hardship and optimism of the early days through to his final years when things fell dreadfully apart. Funny, astute and sensitive, this is written by fans, but never crashes down into fan-dom. Chronological biographies don't always work, but the fascinating arc of Jake Thackray's life suits the format perfectly, and the parallel insights into changing fashions at the BBC and in the record industry provide constant wider interest. The final chapters are heartbreaking, but - on a very human level - are tempered with a sense of relief at Thackray's (albeit materially ruinous) release from the demands of a working life that he had come to hate and fear. Above all, the book makes a very convincing case that the high-stakes use of the word 'genius' in the title is fully justified.
October 31, 2022
This is a beautiful biography of Jake. I say Jake only because that is who he was to those of us in Monmouth who knew him. Some remember him as the kind man who would buy their kids chocolates, whereas others remember him as he gentleman who was engaged in the community. I remember him as a friendly chap with an old word processor and dusty guitar.
What the writers have done here is great because it charts his character, background, rise to fame and explores the complicated man called Jake. These days his demons/challenges would be have been spoken about more. But alas, all the this and that is secondary to what Jake gave to us. Excellent book for so many reasons. Now enough pomp -cheers fellas.
What the writers have done here is great because it charts his character, background, rise to fame and explores the complicated man called Jake. These days his demons/challenges would be have been spoken about more. But alas, all the this and that is secondary to what Jake gave to us. Excellent book for so many reasons. Now enough pomp -cheers fellas.
May 8, 2023
A great read and a worthy biography of the artist. I was left wanting to know more about the man who appeared to have been well loved separate from his talents. The afterword suggests there is more being discovered that could solve the enigma.
September 8, 2022
Thorough and loving biography.
October 29, 2022
Absolutely wonderful book, full of laughter and tears.
November 22, 2022
Thoroughly absorbing. Brilliantly researched. Thackrays strengths and weaknesses are laid naked.
January 1, 2023
A strange
August 26, 2025
A wonderful telling of a fascinating and tragic life. A bit of repetition here and there, but who cares
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews