His signature song was 'Barry Lamp-posts'
It was the period between the end of hippiedom and the onset of punk and Barry's 'local leg.' singer-songwriter Rod Tolchock was the star of the folk club then, the Railway.
On the face of it, Tolchock was a hippie hanger-on, a peace and love merchant ; after all, he wore a woolly teapot cosy hat and kaftan (though his climbing boots didn't quite fit that).
Yet he took his nom de song from Anthony Burgess's 'A Clockwork Orange', the 'tolchock' meaning an attack on someone......hardly a hippie sentiment!
With his anarchist philosophy and insistence on writing about the locality, he wasn't your typical James Taylor impersonator.
His anarchism was never the screaming of 'Destroy!' of Johnny Rotten however and he always espoused setting up alternatives within society rather than simply trying to drop out.
Some of his songs were definitely influenced by his taking of various substances, which placed him closer to the psychedelic strain of Syd Barrett and Beefheart.
He was wild and unpredictable : sometimes dreadful and inspired in the same set . He often punctuated songs with his thoughts about poetry, revolution and green politics (he was ahead of his time in that respect).
There were a fair share of other exciting acts visiting the club : single performers who could imitate brass bands with their mouths, or do amazing things with one harmonica.
I believe most were astounded that Rod hadn't made it Big Time.
Today, he'd be a hit on You-Tube and I have no doubt and his singalong 'Barry Lamp-posts' would be the perfect antidote to Gavin & Stacey cliches.
I never got close to him, despite the fact that it was my job to do the write-ups for the 'Barry & District News'.
Rod smelt pungently of dope and cats, but it wasn't that which distanced me and my best mate Dave. We wanted to keep him as a mystery.
When friends reported back to us that the local record shop Christopher's never stocked anything by him, we'd just reply - ' Can't understand it! Not even recognised in his own town!'
Also, Rod always seemed to have a woman nearby and more often than not it was Debbie ,who sat at the front and was his unofficial Fan Club.
She was small, blonde and feisty. If she thought you were mocking his work she'd become very protective and a series of expletives would machine-gun from her gob, making Vanessa's insults positively charming.
Rod, like Van the Man, was impossible to interview as well.
I once attempted a short one for the paper ,but gave up after the second question.
'Just lissen to the fuckin songs, man......' he dismissed me, combining punk venom with hippie phrasing.
I wish now I'd recorded some of those crazy nights at the Railway, or down Porthkerry Park where we'd follow Rod like children behind the Pied Piper, for beach parties in summer.
He left Barry after suffering some kind of breakdown and I still look out for him on the streets of Cardiff, listening for every busker just in case I hear that refrain.
He could have been, but never was.
Now he only exists in the memories of people like myself and Dave : titles of songs, snatches of strange choruses and , above all, that vision of Rod on stage, peculiar and unique, out of his age.
I did manage to scribble down a few of his phrases for my reports and some resonate today , like -
'Every song should be a small revolution.....changing people's views forever with its groove.'
ENIGMA
'Rod Tolchock' wasn't his real name, of course ;
I never did discover what it was.
'It's here inside my 'at, mate!'
he gave his tea-cosy a point.
Someone claimed he was John Toshack's cousin
and didn't want to be a hanger-on.
His tea-cosy was the only heirloom
he inherited from his Nan when she passed on.
He once supported Roy Harper (so he said).
Before his Memo gig he dropped acid ;
shouted at Security to catch the snakes
he saw writhing around in the audience.
He was the best and worst performer at the Railway :
mad, sad, funny, sometimes burbling away.
In the late 70s he went missing.
Rumours had him in India searching
for a guru, or chanting in Cardiff centre
doing the Hari Krishna.
Rod would come out with his philosophy
like others burp or sneeze.
Once he told us - ' Nothing will be achieved
till people learn to think like trees!'
On the face of it, Tolchock was a hippie hanger-on, a peace and love merchant ; after all, he wore a woolly teapot cosy hat and kaftan (though his climbing boots didn't quite fit that).
Yet he took his nom de song from Anthony Burgess's 'A Clockwork Orange', the 'tolchock' meaning an attack on someone......hardly a hippie sentiment!
With his anarchist philosophy and insistence on writing about the locality, he wasn't your typical James Taylor impersonator.
His anarchism was never the screaming of 'Destroy!' of Johnny Rotten however and he always espoused setting up alternatives within society rather than simply trying to drop out.
Some of his songs were definitely influenced by his taking of various substances, which placed him closer to the psychedelic strain of Syd Barrett and Beefheart.
He was wild and unpredictable : sometimes dreadful and inspired in the same set . He often punctuated songs with his thoughts about poetry, revolution and green politics (he was ahead of his time in that respect).
There were a fair share of other exciting acts visiting the club : single performers who could imitate brass bands with their mouths, or do amazing things with one harmonica.
I believe most were astounded that Rod hadn't made it Big Time.
Today, he'd be a hit on You-Tube and I have no doubt and his singalong 'Barry Lamp-posts' would be the perfect antidote to Gavin & Stacey cliches.
I never got close to him, despite the fact that it was my job to do the write-ups for the 'Barry & District News'.
Rod smelt pungently of dope and cats, but it wasn't that which distanced me and my best mate Dave. We wanted to keep him as a mystery.
When friends reported back to us that the local record shop Christopher's never stocked anything by him, we'd just reply - ' Can't understand it! Not even recognised in his own town!'
Also, Rod always seemed to have a woman nearby and more often than not it was Debbie ,who sat at the front and was his unofficial Fan Club.
She was small, blonde and feisty. If she thought you were mocking his work she'd become very protective and a series of expletives would machine-gun from her gob, making Vanessa's insults positively charming.
Rod, like Van the Man, was impossible to interview as well.
I once attempted a short one for the paper ,but gave up after the second question.
'Just lissen to the fuckin songs, man......' he dismissed me, combining punk venom with hippie phrasing.
I wish now I'd recorded some of those crazy nights at the Railway, or down Porthkerry Park where we'd follow Rod like children behind the Pied Piper, for beach parties in summer.
He left Barry after suffering some kind of breakdown and I still look out for him on the streets of Cardiff, listening for every busker just in case I hear that refrain.
He could have been, but never was.
Now he only exists in the memories of people like myself and Dave : titles of songs, snatches of strange choruses and , above all, that vision of Rod on stage, peculiar and unique, out of his age.
I did manage to scribble down a few of his phrases for my reports and some resonate today , like -
'Every song should be a small revolution.....changing people's views forever with its groove.'
ENIGMA
'Rod Tolchock' wasn't his real name, of course ;
I never did discover what it was.
'It's here inside my 'at, mate!'
he gave his tea-cosy a point.
Someone claimed he was John Toshack's cousin
and didn't want to be a hanger-on.
His tea-cosy was the only heirloom
he inherited from his Nan when she passed on.
He once supported Roy Harper (so he said).
Before his Memo gig he dropped acid ;
shouted at Security to catch the snakes
he saw writhing around in the audience.
He was the best and worst performer at the Railway :
mad, sad, funny, sometimes burbling away.
In the late 70s he went missing.
Rumours had him in India searching
for a guru, or chanting in Cardiff centre
doing the Hari Krishna.
Rod would come out with his philosophy
like others burp or sneeze.
Once he told us - ' Nothing will be achieved
till people learn to think like trees!'
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