From 1964, Andrews supported his nascent career as a singer/songwriter by working as a schoolteacher, before becoming a full-time professional musician in 1966.
Andrews has produced 15 successful albums singing his own songs, many of which have also been recorded by other artists.
His emotive The Soldier transmits the same quiet desperation of a soldier about to die "in conflict" as Wilfred Owen's Dulce Et Decorum Est, though in a very different setting. In fact, the contrast of a battlefield to a commonplace urban setting and the proximity of children makes the situation even more poignant and the waste of a young life even more tragic.
Hey Sandy on the album Writer of Songs is another description of the senseless loss of a young life in conflict. It is based on the death of a female student, Sandra Scheuer, who was shot by the Ohio National Guard at the Kent State University in the USA anti-war demonstration of 1970, although, unlike the Sandy of Andrews' song, the real student was not directly involved in the demonstration. The album version of the song is an unusual, but powerful, arrangement, in which the first verse is sung to the accompaniment of a solo double bass, played by Danny Thompson. The recording was never issued in America until Kent State University's commemorative cd released in 2005. It reached number 2 in the New Zealand chart in November 1972.In stark contrast, his Boothferry Bridge and Gift of a Brand New day reflect the contentment of the simple pleasures of everyday life.
Many of Harvey's supposedly 'unavailable' Albums (like Writer of Songs) can actually be ordered directly from his web site (just follow the 'music' link) http://www.harveyandrews.com/ .. sadly some of them really are out of print.
Unaccompanied
Harvey Andrews Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
I wish that it would bloody go away again!
Monday's bad, and Tuesday's worse, Wednesday, Thursday, just a curse;
But Friday's payday; fill the purse and pray again.
My wife she's growing round the waist, we're wild again.
The priest gives thanks that we've been "blessed with child" again,
After five I said 'no more', I'd never touch her, that I swore.
They've moved us to this bloody block of flats again.
Before we'd been here long we had the rats again.
The kids play on a piece of scrub; we haven't even got a pub.
But the priest - he's formed a social club. Rush mats again!
They built a special factory for work again.
Said 'it's a great job for you, don't shirk again.'
I stand around and tighten screws, and dream about a glass of booze.
Whichever way you turn, you lose, a berk again.
The car's packed up, I can't afford repairs again.
But the company's paid dividends on shares again.
The bloody telly's on the blink, and something's blocked the kitchen sink,
But the boss's mistress earned her mink, upstairs again.
The Thirties are a memory for Dad again.
He tells me "things can never be that bad again."
But from Jarrow and from Clyde they'll come, with silent hearts and muffled drum.
We want the cake, and not the crumb. We're mad again!
In "Unaccompanied", Harvey Andrews paints a picture of the daily struggles of a working-class family in post-war Britain. The first stanza opens with the monotonous sound of the hooter, which jolts the singer awake to face another day of drudgery. The days of the week are characterized with an increasing sense of disdain and hopelessness, until Friday brings a glimmer of hope with its promised payday. However, any relief is short-lived as the cycle continues. The second stanza touches on the strain in the singer's marriage, as his wife becomes pregnant with their sixth child. Despite his reluctance to have more children, the priest's call for procreation causes him to give in and repeat the cycle once again.
The third stanza delves into the physical environment of the family, which is far from ideal. They are living in a block of flats infested with rats, with no amenities or social outlets nearby. However, the priest once again steps in and creates a makeshift social club for the residents. The fourth stanza describes the singer's dead-end job, where he performs mundane tasks day after day with no sense of fulfillment. To make matters worse, his personal life is falling apart as well - his car has broken down, his appliances are malfunctioning, and he can't afford to fix them. But while he and his family suffer, the wealthy and powerful continue to thrive, as evidenced by the boss's mistress earning expensive gifts.
Overall, "Unaccompanied" conveys a sense of disillusionment and despair, as though the singer is trapped in an endless cycle of hardship and defeat. The song reflects a side of post-war Britain that is often overlooked or romanticized, offering a stark reminder of the struggles faced by many in the working class.
Line by Line Meaning
The hooter wakes me up to face the day again.
I hate waking up to the sound of an alarm in the morning.
I wish that it would bloody go away again!
I really wish I didn't have to wake up so early every day.
Monday's bad, and Tuesday's worse, Wednesday, Thursday, just a curse;
Every day of the work week is awful and tiring, and it feels like it gets worse as the week goes on.
But Friday's payday; fill the purse and pray again.
The only thing that keeps me going through the week is the thought of finally getting paid on Friday.
My wife she's growing round the waist, we're wild again.
My wife is pregnant, and it feels like we're starting all over again with a new child.
The priest gives thanks that we've been "blessed with child" again,
Our religious leader is happy for us that we're having another child.
After five I said 'no more', I'd never touch her, that I swore.
I told myself I was done having kids after our fifth child, and I promised I wouldn't have sex with my wife again.
But the priest says "that's what loving's for." Beguiled again!
The priest tells me that having more children is a natural result of being in love with my wife, and I fall under his persuasive influence again.
They've moved us to this bloody block of flats again.
We've been relocated to another bad, low-quality apartment building.
Before we'd been here long we had the rats again.
We've already encountered rodent problems in our new apartment.
The kids play on a piece of scrub; we haven't even got a pub.
We don't even have decent amenities like a playground or a local bar in our new area.
But the priest - he's formed a social club. Rush mats again!
Our religious leader has taken it upon himself to create a new social club for us to belong to, but it's not exactly a luxury establishment.
They built a special factory for work again.
A new factory has opened up where I can work.
Said 'it's a great job for you, don't shirk again.'
My employer tells me that this is a good opportunity for me, and I need to work hard and not slack off.
I stand around and tighten screws, and dream about a glass of booze.
My job is menial and boring, and I find myself daydreaming about drinking instead of working.
Whichever way you turn, you lose, a berk again.
No matter what I do, it feels like I'm stuck in a situation where I can't win or make any progress.
The car's packed up, I can't afford repairs again.
My car has broken down and I can't afford to get it fixed.
But the company's paid dividends on shares again.
The company I invested in has paid out dividends to its shareholders.
The bloody telly's on the blink, and something's blocked the kitchen sink,
Now my TV isn't working properly, and there's another problem with the kitchen sink that I need to fix.
But the boss's mistress earned her mink, upstairs again.
Despite all of my problems, my boss's mistress has received a luxurious fur coat as a gift from my boss.
The Thirties are a memory for Dad again.
My father is reminiscing about the 1930s, a time that holds significance for him.
He tells me "things can never be that bad again."
My father believes that even though times are tough now, they can't possibly be as bad as they were during the Great Depression of the 1930s.
But from Jarrow and from Clyde they'll come, with silent hearts and muffled drum.
My father is referring to the Jarrow March and the Battle of George Square, two significant protests in Scotland and England that were meant to draw attention to the plight of the working class during times of economic hardship.
We want the cake, and not the crumb. We're mad again!
We're frustrated and angry that we're struggling to make ends meet while the wealthy enjoy their luxurious lifestyles and don't share their prosperity with those who work hard for it.
Contributed by Brayden H. Suggest a correction in the comments below.