In the suburbs to the west of Lewisham, sort of Brockley/Ladywell-ish, there's a big convex park called Hilly Fields. It's an extensive green space with proper steep slopes, boasting fine views over Docklands and the uplands of Dulwich. Victorian developers devoured most of the surrounding area in the late 19th century, but this verdant hillock was saved from residential destruction by Octavia Hill, one of the founders of the National Trust. At the summit are tennis courts and half a secondary school, as well as (at this time of year) a very popular ice cream van. In the heat of a pre-summer's day it's a perfect spot for a minor kickaround, or for watching your dog let off steam, or for sitting on a folding chair in the shade of a blossoming horse chestnut whilst reading Daily Mail supplements with the wife. East London has nothing similarly contoured which could possibly compete.
And this is the local park which Nick Nicely sang about in his seminal psychedelic 1981 masterpiece - Hilly Fields (1892). Described by some as "the Strawberry Fields of the Eighties", it's a mysterious combination of synthesiser, cello and reefer madness. Hilly Fields was even sufficiently cutting-edge to include a bit of scratching, well before Malcolm McLaren kickstarted that particular bandwagon. What do you mean you've never heard the song before? Head on over to Nick's myspace and familiarise yourself immediately. Admittedly you might hate it - it's a Marmite kind of a song - but I've adored it for a quarter of a century. Nick spent six months perfecting the track, which nearly made it onto the seminal Some Bizarre sampler but didn't quite, and which EMI ought to have promoted more as a single, but didn't. Shame, but maybe New Romantic Britain wasn't quite ready for a late 60s acid revival. Lack of commercial success halted Nick'smusicalcareer, although he still lives nearby and no doubt revisits Hilly Fields regularly. Sitting up there in the sunshine earlier today, humming along, I can see why. "18th of July, marked in with a circle of red.
He left them all behind, filed under missing or dead, it said...
1892, lines are still on you, Hilly Fields."
London songs: Hilly Fields (1892) by Nick Nicely
In the suburbs to the west of Lewisham, sort of Brockley/Ladywell-ish, there's a big convex park called Hilly Fields. It's an extensive green space with proper steep slopes, boasting fine views over Docklands and the uplands of Dulwich. Victorian developers devoured most of the surrounding area in the late 19th century, but this verdant hillock was saved from residential destruction by Octavia Hill, one of the founders of the National Trust. At the summit are tennis courts and half a secondary school, as well as (at this time of year) a very popular ice cream van. In the heat of a pre-summer's day it's a perfect spot for a minor kickaround, or for watching your dog let off steam, or for sitting on a folding chair in the shade of a blossoming horse chestnut whilst reading Daily Mail supplements with the wife. East London has nothing similarly contoured which could possibly compete.
and familiarise yourself immediately. Admittedly you might hate it - it's a Marmite kind of a song - but I've adored it for a quarter of a century. Nick spent six months perfecting the track, which nearly made it onto the seminal Some Bizarre sampler but didn't quite, and which EMI ought to have promoted more as a single, but didn't. Shame, but maybe New Romantic Britain wasn't quite ready for a late 60s acid revival. Lack of commercial success halted Nick's musical career, although he still lives nearby and no doubt revisits Hilly Fields regularly. Sitting up there in the sunshine earlier today, humming along, I can see why.
