Robin Williamson and Mike Heron: whatever the ups and downs of the band, these two Scottish gentlemen were the constant. In fact, to some extent, it hardly mattered who else was alongside – if they were there, it was The Incredible String Band. From that initial phase as a trio with Clive Palmer, through the dancing hippie chicks Mimi and Mouse, the steady introduction of the girlfriends as members – Christina McKecknie, better known as Licorice or Licky, and Rose Simpson, better known as, well, Rose – through to the dancer, Malcolm Le Maistre, and the steady introduction of various members as the rock element grew, it was always Mike and Robin at the core – writing and singing, separate and yet a unit. Robin, with his fey and mystical songs, exploring philosophy, religion and mythology, in a grab bag of parts that somehow made immediate sense as a whole. Mike – slightly more grounded but complimentary – the perfect foil, adding the songs with a kazoo and an acoustic guitar, to sing to that girl with the long hair that you’d finally enticed back to your halls of residence. Start with ‘Log Cabin’ and end on a version of ‘Rainbow’, and she would be yours. Maybe.
The band had begun as a duo of Robin Williamson and Clive Palmer, not under the ISB name, but as Beatniks. The hippie label was not yet coined. They lived a beatnik existence in the flats of Edinburgh, sharing the life with the likes of Bert Jansch. Hard-living, floorboards were burnt to keep warm, and when all that could burn was burnt, a tent was erected in the middle of the floor for some relief from the biting Scottish winter – so cold that smoke froze solid. Apparently.
Robin and Clive played the clubs and sessions, doing traditional folk and old- time American banjo tunes. They were getting a name as great players: Clive and his banjo, Robin and his fiddle, and the guitars. Growing fish in a growing ocean. Mike had encountered them as he made his way around the Edinburgh music scene, toting his guitar. See Mikes autobiographical book,You Know What You Could Be, for full details on this period, but suffice to say, the two added the one, Clive’s Incredible Folk Club gave them a name, and they were off and running; The Incredible String Band. Now the name has connotations beyond its origins, reflecting the old-timey basis. Enter Joe Boyd – musical whizz-kid about town. His portfolio has included Fairport Convention, John Martyn and Nick Drake – in fact, a who’s who of folk rock royalty, and that aside from Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, and others from that side of the folk/rock wall. So when he encountered the trio, he was impressed, installed them in a studio, recorded a debut album and got them a deal with the cool American Elektra label.
There will be more about the albums in this book, of course, but at this point, things go a little awry as Clive heads off to Afghanistan and Robin scoots off to Morocco, neither planning to return anytime soon, if at all. Mike continues to play solo around Scotland and misses his comrades. Clive leaves the picture, but before long, Robin returns to the nest, bearing a suntan and much more: crucially, a number of ethnic instruments, including that key ISB sound, the bowed gimbri. Actually, Robin decided to bow it, but most Moroccans played it as one would a mandolin. In a veritable aviary of pleasure, the robin and the heron reconvened, and the Stri
