Ain't Never Too Late

I’m fortunate to live within walking distance of one of the finest independent music venues in the land: The White Room Music Café in Stanley, County Durham. I’ve seen some cracking shows there over the couple of years since it opened, and I’ve also had the pleasure of performing gigs there myself on several occasions.

Last Saturday I walked there to see the great Tom Robison play a sold-out show in this gem of a room. Making my way along the path to Stanley, I listened to some of the classics from The Tom Robinson Band era and experienced three distinct and visceral responses. Firstly, the obvious quality of the songs and the tracks. They still hit you square in the gut, demanding your ear and your full attention. Secondly, I was justly angered by the terrible relevance many of those songs still carry. It’s obscene how apt they are; in the same way that early Dylan songs are, and Woody Guthrie’s admonitions before him. How have we seemingly learnt so little from the events and attitudes they so accurately chronicled? But it was the third emotion that surprised me most: sadness. Even more than the anger. Sadness. And for a very particular reason. Had I been walking to Stanley, say, 12 years ago, listening to those same songs, I would have taken a larger degree of comfort from the fact that society - for all its many lingering flaws - had at least managed to put some distance between itself and some of the overt bigotry, homophobia, racism, etc. of which Tom had sung almost half a century earlier. Sure, there is still progress to be acknowledged and celebrated, but there is also a strong and undeniable whiff of regression on the wind, and I was still pondering this as I arrived outside the venue.

It was encouraging to see folks already waiting ahead of the doors opening, and chatting with some gave me a definite lift.

Why am I telling you all this? I didn’t come on here to write a review as such, but neither could I not say something about what transpired that evening.

Simply put, it was one of the best gigs I have ever experienced. It was my first time seeing Tom live, and whilst I’m only too aware of his talent as a writer and performer, I also didn’t know just what to expect. I don’t mean this in a condescending way at all, but at 76 years of age, it would have been entirely understandable for him to step out and deliver a pared-back version of those songs; to give a sincere but, I don’t know… pedestrianised(?) take on his back catalogue. Forget that! From the first to the last, he projected all the passion, compassion, vitriol, frustration, disgust, defiance, and guts associated with what he has been doing for almost 50 years. This wasn't a great gig for a 76 year old, this was a great gig from a 76 year old! As a concert goer, music lover, and as a singer/songwriter myself, this was beyond inspiring to witness. Not that we were mere onlookers, of course. Tom made us part of it all. It was one of the finest meetings of artist and audience it has ever been my privilege to experience. And if all that were not enough, he’d updated parts of certain songs for current circumstances, referencing present day movers and shakers, and the impact they are having on the world in 2026. As well as songs from across his career, there was brand new one too, as fine and as vital as any he has written. In addition to all of this, there was much humour, pathos; there were entertaining anecdotes. The several ovations he received were the least we owed him.

Following his two sets, and the two encores insisted on by us all, he gave time and attention to the many who lined up to speak with him; buy a CD, request an autograph and/or a photo, and with the assistance of his equally lovely wife Sue, nobody left feeling anything but elated by the whole evening. Thank you to Graeme and The White Room for bringing us all together, and to Sue, and above all to Mr Robinson himself.

(This is all starting to read like a review…. I didn’t intend that.)

I too had the pleasure of speaking with Tom. I told him, in essence, some of what I’ve shared with you here. He told me of his approach to performing which, I was moved to hear, was almost word-for-word what I’ve also said to others: giving everything to the songs is the only way. There’s no point otherwise. Put everything out there, hold nothing back. It was affirming, and inspiring to speak about such things, and to learn that an artist who, one could argue, has nothing to prove to anyone, still takes it upon himself to - if I may borrow a line from The Boss - prove it all night. We spoke about a couple of other things. I will not forget.

That evening still resonates with me several days later, and it will linger as long as memory allows. It was everything that this is all about, and will be a source of encouragement to keep going.

And then, I walked home. As the light continued to fade, I walked the same path that I’d travelled just a few hours earlier. I didn’t need to listen to music this time as there was enough in my head. There were a few birds still up. Several bats, fast-flitting overhead. It’s probably a path best not walked late at night, in all honesty. I met four people walking home. Each said hello, and I arrived at my front door feeling better about the world than when I left home.

And there’s no higher compliment I can pay to a performer than that. One song at a time, one show at a time, the world is being made that little bit better, or at the very least, that little more bearable. With or without a stage, that endeavour may be the highest calling for us all.

Love,

Steve x

Thanks to Sue for the photo!