Duke Special

The Man Who Would Be King

Rewind a few years. AU is sitting in a local pub, a not entirely salubrious location that might have the feel of a juke joint where punters enter through the door and exit through the window, if it were not for the fact that there is not enough people here to instigate a bar brawl. A clutch of doleful-looking individuals sit around nursing pints, while another bunch of sad sacks stand at the back, smoking foul-smelling cigarettes and playing the puggies. A group of jokers wearing denim that Status Quo would reject for being too rare comprise the support act that has just finished their set of tediously average mid-paced rock.

Words_Ross Thompson

Things do not look hopeful. Then, without fanfare, a curious-looking fellow shuffles across the beer-sticky floor to the stage. Head down, hands buried deep in the pockets of his military jacket, he appears shy and self-conscious. Not what you want when your evening is rapidly spiralling into mind-numbing boredom.

Then he sits at his piano, quietly says “hello” and starts playing. If you’ve heard Duke Special before, you will already know how that feels.

Fast forward a bit, and AU is mingling with the audience in The Empire. The people around us push forward, camera phones aloft, as they try to catch a glimpse of what is happening at the front. Duke Special has just finished the second night of a two-gig residency, and is performing his encore in the middle of the room. As he runs through an impromptu version of ‘John Lennon Love’, un-miked and un-amped, everyone, AU included, joins in with the chorus. Up above, the mirrorballs hanging down from the ceiling sparkle in agreement, like stars perhaps.

Jump cut to the present, and The Duke - or Peter Wilson to his chums - is belting down the motorway with Chip Bailey, the talented multi-percussionist that bears more than a passing resemblance to Ralph the piano-playing dog from The Muppets. They are heading for the airport, where they will jet off to Brussels. It’s an appropriate metaphor, for in recent months Duke Special has seen his music career leap skyward. Having signed to V2 Records, he is readying his first major release, ‘Songs From The Deep Forest’, a wonderful melange of heady orchestral pop and wry, poetic lyrics rare in modern music.

But getting from there to here hasn’t been easy, and Duke Special has played in dozens more dirty little grips than the aforementioned dive in Belfast. Over the next hour, he chats to AU over a phone line that keeps cutting out each time his transport passes underneath a bridge. This, as it turns out, is pretty often…

“Music has always been in my family. It was a huge part of growing up. I have three older sisters who all play piano and guitar, and we would play together every Christmas. Everybody had their own party piece. When I was 11, I played in shows in the clubs, and I remember people really liking it, and being quite chuffed at that. Then, from about 13, I just knew that I wanted to do music, in the same way that other kids like playing sports. It allowed me to escape into my own private world, and I did everything I could to get there. I took piano lessons, and I even followed those guitar charts that tell you where to put your fingers on the fret-board.”

Like every awkward teenager worth their salt, the Duke started jamming along with records in his bedroom. AU tries to imagine a young buck with dreadlocks-in-waiting miming into a can of Lynx deodorant, but the image is a little too surreal.

“I listened to The Beatles a lot, particularly their song ‘You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away’. I also had an album by a guitarist called Phil Keaggy that my sister gave to me as a present, which, and I’m kind of embarrassed to say, made me cry. But then I’ve always been emotional about music. It has that power to get under your skin and right into your soul.”

It’s an apt description. Lou Barlow of Sebadoh, once sang that it’s all a matter of soul and fire, and Duke Special has each of these in spades.

“At the same time, I didn’t want my writing to become maudlin and stodgy. I wanted it to be fun and entertaining, particularly live. There are so many things you can do during a concert you can’t do on a record. It’s an event, and it has to be visually arresting. That can be anything: what you wear, where the drums are placed or whatever.”

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Issue #50 - The Power To Know

Featuring The Top 50 NI Songs of Our Lifetime, The Streets, Deerhoof, Seasick Steve, Fucked Up, Garth Ennis and more.