Cult poet Martin Newell: 'I am the good granddad of rock 'n' roll'

Martin Newell is Britain’s most published poet, has been writing lo-fi pop songs for almost 50 years and can include Oasis frontman Noel Gallagher among his fans. Yet you may not have heard of him. 

That could change when the The Smashing Machine – starring Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson – opens in the US and UK on 3 October, as it features “Corridor of Dreams”, written by Newell in 1982, during a pivotal scene. Johnson plays MMA (mixed martial arts) fighter Mark Kerr in the film inspired by the 2002 documentary of the same name. Kerr had a highly successful career but also struggled with substance abuse. 

“Corridor of Dreams” is played during a scene in which Kerr suffers a humbling loss. Early reviews suggest Johnson is “a knockout” in the role. The film’s world premiere earned a 15 minute-plus standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival which brought Johnson to tears. 

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The decision to use 72-year-old Newell’s track came from first-time solo director Benny Safdie. Together with his elder brother Josh, Safdie received acclaim for crime dramas Good Times and Uncut Gems. Newell revealed he thought an email he received was from the film’s musical director – not Safdie himself.

Safdie wrote: “Your song has been so meaningful to me and important in what it says and how it makes me feel about life. It is an incredible piece of music and is perfect for placing in a specific place. I try to put people in the same place where I feel listening to your song and I hope it does justice for you.” 

Martin Newell wrote back saying he found Safdie’s email “very cheering while I make my afternoon cup of tea”. 

Newell sold out two successive nights at the 450-capacity gigs at the Bush Hall in London in April and offers are on the table for Newell and his band The Cleaners from Venus to tour.

But Newell – who cycles almost everywhere, even to concerts if he can – doesn’t fancy the travelling. He prefers to stay at home in his cosy cottage nestled near the River Colne in Wivenhoe. There he writes songs on his trusty piano, composes poems and writes prose – plus a quirky weekly column for the local paper. 

Dr John Cooper Clarke, who is a friend, lives about three miles away in Colchester, and was so impressed by Newell’s seemingly inexhaustible energy, he wrote a poem about his pal who’s “got muscles in his piss”.

The Cleaners From Venus’s early 80s approach was defiantly DIY, with albums released on cassette only, on Newell’s own label, Man at the Off Licence. Newell even included notes urging fans to copy them and offering to provide inserts for the price of a stamped-addressed envelope. Now Brooklyn-based indie label Captured Tracks are reissuing much of his back catalogue. 

Aside from music and poetry, Martin Newell has also published three memoirs – This Little Ziggy, The Greatest Living Englishman and, earlier this year, The Home Recording Handbook. 

Whatever’s next for former kitchen porter Newell, who once left music to be a gardener for six months – “I’m very good at pruning” – life almost certainly won’t change much. 

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He says, “I didn’t expect a gradual accretion to turn into a roller coaster, whereby I am the good granddad of rock ’n’ roll. I got letters from a really beautiful Italian woman who said, ‘You look like a gorgeous magic elf.’ 

“I wonder what would their grandparents be saying? It is very flattering and they are going to live for years, so they can go on buying the records!” 

Martin Newell’s not bothered about living the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle. In the spring of 1988, disillusioned with the music business and the pitiful income it brought, he refused to go on a 20-date tour of Germany with The Cleaners From Venus, because he was making £400 a week working for a builder mate. “I told the record company it was goodbye to pop stardom, thank you very much and fuck off,” he recalled.

“We found a guy in Brighton called Dan Woods. RCA Germany sent me my train fare and I went down to Brighton, taught him my tunings and the chords and said, ‘Good luck with that.’ He went off to play pop stars and I laboured on a building site and paid off my debts. 

“There is fantasy version of being a pop star – the reality is people are pestering you the whole time, your missus can’t go shopping and you look out the window and there is a bunch of people with a disability who think you can cure them.”

At a time where fame has become the third currency after time and money, fame is fighting hard for energy and health. 

“I started off wanting to be a pop star, then in my mid-30s I started feeling a bit thwarted and that they were all against me. In the end there is fame and money and these two high-maintenance princesses are initially saying you are very attractive – and then going off with some other guy. 

“Then there was the girl next door… which was the music. A lot of pop stars forget the music. There are a lot of people who burn out – there are some famous bands who haven’t made a good album in years – but I haven’t, I keep on writing, because my success as a poet revealed what I was good at – and that is making things up and writing things.” 

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