Alias Glover & Jones Tim GloverBrian Jones

Music From Tim Glover

Photos of Alias Glover and Jones


I went to Australia last year and met an old friend of mine called Tim Glover, who now lives in Sydney, he was born in Bebington. I was just introduced to him in a folk club many years ago.

We were introduced by a mutual friend called Rob Jones. We went to see Tim play, he was singing Eric Bovell songs and songs of his own. Afterwards, we got chatting and had a little jam. This became a regular thing, which organically developed into ‘Alias Glover & Jones’. He was very, very good between the songs. A naturally funny guy doing all sorts with his life – from teaching English in Japan to teaching sex offenders to build brick walls he is very good at anything he turns his hand to.

He loves bluegrass music, as I did with the banjo. And we just, as I say, got together and we started doing gigs, and we did quite a lot of gigs in probably about a three or four year period before he decided to go back to Australia again.


I returned to the UK at Christmas time 1974 after two years in Australia. I’d done a bit on the folk scene there as a solo performer playing in clubs in Sydney, Newcastle, Adelaide as well as at a few festivals. I acknowledge that my presentation, my ‘act’ if you will, was greatly influenced by the likes of Derek Brimstone and Tony Capstick as well as Merseyside groups including the Hooters. This meant that I tried to include an element of comedy to compensate for my still developing guitar style and somewhat questionable singing voice. Australian audiences were very tolerant I must say.

Folk was enjoying  a great deal of interest in Australia. There was already a well established folk tradition that covered many areas. Bush music reflected the development of what was still a very young country with a proud history. Bush dances were popular as were Irish ‘sessions’. Songs of shearers, miners, soldiers, sailors and convicts served as important historical sources. Bluegrass and blues were both well subscribed. Australian songwriters came to earn international reputations with Eric Bogle immediately springing to mind. It was a time of considerable activity in all the folk spheres and it was this backdrop that I experienced.

Australian folk clubs were similar in format to those in the UK, with residents, guests and floor singers with most being based in pubs. There were often parties after the clubs closed often going long into the night. (Festivals were held in the state capital cities but are now held annually in Canberra on a dedicated site.)

When I returned to the UK I was very keen to find out what was happening on the folk scene I had left two years previous. It was in the best of health! The entertainment column of the Liverpool Echo seemed to have an endless list of folk clubs on Merseyside. There was ‘folk’ being played every night of the week, many clubs featuring professional performers who were on a circuit, putting in long hours on the motorways of the British Isles to entertain their audiences.

I first saw Brian play in a club above a pub opposite Tranmere Rovers Football Club. I’ve forgotten the name I’m afraid. He knew what he was doing and the audience, which was in his hand, really appreciated his spot. He could sing, play guitar and was funny with it. (Bastard!) I did a floor spot and included some Australian material including Eric Bogle’s “I hate wogs” which went well after the audience understood that the song was not racist.

I ended up striking up a conversation with Brian’s Dad, Gordon.

He asked me what I was going to do and I told him I’d like to play with someone. I jokingly said I’d like to play with Brian feeling that there was no chance as Brian was in a higher league than I was. However, I’m not sure what happened but Brian and I got together.

Brian’s quick Merseyside wit, pronounced musical ability and possession of a fine singing voice meant that he was able to cover for my lack of wit, musical ability and absence of a tolerable voice. It seemed to work though.

We did floor spots, hawking our wares around the numerous folk clubs that dotted Merseyside and beyond. We started to get bookings as our act developed. Brian was a patient teacher and helped me with my full F and of course B minor. Practices saw me learning and we honed a quite polished professional performance sprinkled with Merseyside humour. I feel that audiences enjoyed our performances. I know I enjoyed playing!

I remember one night we played at The Everyman Theatre in Liverpool. This was big time for us, we were supporting Silly Wizard. I seem to recollect that Brian played bagpipes with Silly Wizard to finish the night, bringing the house down.

Brian’s Dad was a great supporter and would often act as our ‘roadie’. I remember we played in North Wales one night and Gordon drove us there, sleeping in the back of the van while we played. He had been at work all day. Gordon always encouraged us, something I shall never forget.

We played up north one night at a club that was run by a female school teacher. She constantly asked the unruly audience for quiet, pointing at miscreants over the top of her Spanish guitar.

Alias Glover and Jones would not have happened without the support of our two partners, Helen and Company (Hilary). Their considerable patience and encouragement meant that we were able to pursue our exciting venture. They were always there to cut up the oranges at half time and wipe the sweat from our brows.

There was a significant backdrop to Alias Glover and Jones story in that I was planning an overland journey to Australia. Throughout 1975 the Landrover trip was being laid out while at the same time we were gathering steam on the folk scene. This led to considerable anxiety for me and I almost decided that I would call off the odyssey. However, push came to shove and early in 1976 we drove off into the sunset leaving Brian to go on to become a legend in his own time.

Leaving left me with memories of a very exciting chapter in my life as well as the foundation of a friendship that continues to this day.

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