Man trouble

Ex-leader of a 'psyche-punk' band, now apostle of the Men's Movement, Celtic soulman and serious drinker, Jackie Leven has paid some heavy dues. By Paul Du Noyer

Queen of our Hearts or not, the Princess of Wales has loyal support in at least one corner of the kingdom - a drug-addiction centre off the Marylebone Road. Diana's portrait hangs in reception at the Core Trust, a charity she has endorsed enthusiastically. Beneath the painting stands Core's co-founder Jackie Leven, the one-time vocalist of the "psyche-punk" band Doll By Doll. When Leven's not helping addicts, he is a philosopher of the Men's Movement, a whisky-seller and the purveyor of magisterial Celtic soul music.

Diana and this reformed wildman make an unlikely couple, but it's no unlikelier than anything else in Leven's life. A tall, barrel-chested Scot, he strides around West London in Boswellian knee britches. His early life was a litany of delinquency, disastrous relationships and doomed attempts at rock 'n' roll stardom. Genuinely charismatic on stage, his tenure in Doll By Doll came to a terrible end one night in 1983 when he was brutally beaten up. Nursing broken ribs and a trashed larynx, he sank into heroin addiction. And yet he devised his own holistic cure, forming the methodology that he used to help others at Core (an acronym for Courage to stop, Order in life, Release from addiction, Entry into new life).

But then Leven's girlfriend left him, running off with the Dalai Lama's bodyguard. Perhaps by way of apology, the bodyguard sent Jackie some cassette tapes of the American poet Robert Bly, famous now as the author of Iron John and figurehead of the US quest for male identity. With typical intensity, he sought Bly out, became his friend, and now, as well as running Core and making music, he is the UK spokesman for Bly's Men's Movement.

"There is a lot of shit talked about it," says Leven in his Fife burr. "What I like is its common sense. It's absolutely non-guru. Bly's thing is, 'It takes the lover to get into a relationship, but the warrior to stay in it.' There will always be guys that it's not right for. It's not like feminism where you're trying to get every bastard to do it. If you're happy just trying to keep your boyish charm together, then fine. But if you're interested in moving from boyhood to manhood then it's fascinating work."

Fans of the old, rather menacing Leven can be reassured that he has not gone New Age: "Working in the therapy world there is a lot of emphasis on enlightenment. But what about endarkenment? Spirituality is always in the ascending direction, and there is a lack of emphasis on the soul direction, which is down. One should never underestimate the primitive energies that can get unleashed in geezers who've spent their whole lives being nice. People who come into this work want not to be nice for a while."

He confirms that he is "not a herbal tea-type person". In fact, he has yet another project, sponsoring his own brand of single-malt Scotch whisky. Called Leven's Lament ("The Lonely Spirit of the Glens") it's sold well in Selfridges and Harrods, apparently. On a recent album sleeve he thanked, not God or his manager, but 20 different bars. "They're important places, where I've had splendid moments of reverie," he says. "You're allowed to think about your life."

Such a boozer-friendly outlook is unexpected from the head of an addiction charity. But Leven says of Core: "We're not about abstention, like the 12-step programmes. We're about reaching a point where you want to learn about what you've been doing and wanting to change. You don't have to give stuff up unless that's your choice. A lot of people who still take heroin are fantastically successful, more so than people who just watch TV and want to talk about Cracker."

Now in its 10th year, Core employs 10 staff with 30 therapists on call. Princess Diana aside, it's had backing from public bodies and private benefactors such as John Paul Getty Jnr, Genesis, Pet Shop Boys and Eric Clapton. Funding is a recurrent headache, but Leven's music business connections have been invaluable. The former Waterboy Mike Scott has even donated a library to the Core HQ; he describes Leven as "an old-style gentleman, cultured and charming with a touch of the rogue. A man of passion."

Music is still the first of Jackie Leven's passions, however. His newest album is The Argyll Cycle Volume One, including songs that he wrote in Scottish seclusion, recuperating from the horrors he had suffered in London. Sung in a strong, clear voice, it's modern folk music to soothe the scarred psyche. Now he plans an album entitled Fairy Tales for Hard Men, inspired by the tensions he perceives in Scottish masculinity. "I suspect we haven't got over the whole Culloden experience, the subjugation to English will ... Everyone's got a story. You either think there's a universal value in your story, or you don't. People are on different trees and I'm on the tell-your-story tree, because I'm a good story- teller. And I'm always looking for trouble."

'The Argyll Cycle Volume One' is out on Cooking Vinyl on 29 April