Morning Song

morning song 

What if every answer 
to every question 
was being told to us 
by the chirp of the birds? 

Kim LeClair 

These are the sort of questions that could save us a lot of trouble I think.

And in answer to this one: at the least it would be good to listen hard to the original songsters, in order to find out.

Anyway, that's what they they told me when I asked them the same question.

A Leap Year?

We humans are creatures of habit and routine.  We don’t like change. Even those of us who say we like change are probably exaggerating. 

Mostly change, when it comes, is thrust upon us, and we are pretty good, as humans, at adapting. At winging it.  

But it’s often an advantage, in a changing world, to be prepared and take a leap ahead of time. 

The best sorts of leaps are those that not only benefit us as individuals, but the people we know and the communities we live in. Especially those leaps that bring people together. Because then everybody wins. 

Why not take a leap, and host a Homesong in your home?

In The Midnight Hour

The HomeSongs4Life online gigs, like all the online music over the last year or so, was supposed to be a stop gap. 

But if anyone doubts the value these gigs have in their own right, then consider the conversation I had with a fellow foster carer, Rod, who I  met yesterday.He and his wife are temporarily caring for a young baby. They had in fact retired from fostering, so taking on this baby girl was quite a big deal. 

Anyway, babies, as you may know, wake at night. And Rod has used those times, while feeding and comforting the baby to have a listen to  recorded HomeSongs4Life gigs. 

So, if you’re performing online, and it feels like there’s nobody out there, remember Rod, and give it laldy!

Time Machine

Yesterday I read an interview with Billie Piper in The Big Issue. Billie accidentally stumbled into a short pop career when she was 15, although she really wanted to be the actor that she later became. Looking back she said: 

“If I could go back and re-live anytime in my life, I would go back to my very, very early teens…when I had full anonymity”. 

It struck me as both very sad for her personally, and also a bad reflection on the massive music industry that had developed over the second half of the last century. One in which  hype and image mattered more than the people making it, their audience, and the music itself. 

Of course a mountain of great music came out of those decades. But I’m sure we can, and should, do so much better in the way we share our music, both for ourselves and for future generations. 

And thankfully we don’t need to create a new “industry” in order to try.

Homesongs: It’s Not Rocket Science

I’m contemplating the possibility of organising a Homesong at our house. Maybe August.  I held about 30 before lockdown and it usually worked like this: 

I asked an artist (or an artist asked me) about setting up a date. We set a date. I sent out an email to my Homesong mailing list to tell them. 

On the date I’d make a curry. The artist would arrive. The guests would arrive with their own beverages. The artist would perform a 40-ish minute set. Then we’d have a break where people would donate to the artist via The Busking Box. Folk would have a bit of curry. 

After the break we’d have a spot for any songwriters in the audience to do a song. Then the invited artist performed another 40-ish minute set. And we’d finish with a bit of  a chat and then people would disperse to their own homes. The artist usually stayed over at our house. 

And that was it. It works pretty well, but I’ve got improvements in mind which I will talk about in future blogs. It’s not rocket science though, and it’s a joy to experience. 

So why not think about trying to hold a Homesong in your house?

The Big Break

A friend recently reminded me of this wonderful little story: 

”Years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead was asked by a student what she considered to be the first sign of civilisation in a culture. The student expected Mead to talk about fishhooks or clay pots or grinding stones. 

But no. Mead said that the first sign of civilisation in an ancient culture was a femur (thighbone) that had been broken and then healed. Mead explained that in the animal kingdom, if you break your leg, you die. You cannot run from danger, get to the river for a drink or hunt for food. You are meat for prowling beasts. No animal survives a broken leg long enough for the bone to heal. 

A broken femur that has healed is evidence that someone has taken time to stay with the one who fell, has bound up the wound, has carried the person to safety and has tended the person through recovery. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilisation starts, Mead said." 

We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilised. ” 

Margaret Mead’s words are a great place to start in anything we do aren’t they? 

What I really like about small gigs, Homesongs, is that it allows the possibility for these sort of civilised relationships. The possibility of genuine and healing interaction. 

Crowds and big congregations can be a powerful force, but they  don’t often provide the opportunity for personal, intimate connection. 

And maybe that’s something to think about for those of us songwriters and artists of any kind who are waiting for The Big Break. 

Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to stay small.

A Year Without Song

Sometimes we go backwards to go forwards. For a long time I’ve written songs. Not daily, but regularly. Writing a song is a place of joy for me. 

But recently I decided to take a year off from even attempting to write one. 

The reason being that I want to focus on improving my guitar playing and general musicality. I taught myself to play, and my playing and my knowledge is full of holes and a heap of bad technique. 

Fixing this is going to take work, and time. So I’m going to take a break from doing the thing I most love to do. 

 
PS - For those who get my monthly Fee Comes Fourth recordings, don’t worry. There’s a large backlog of songs still to be recorded for that!

Close Enough To Touch

I wrote a song right at the beginning of the first Covid lockdown in the UK. It was called Clean Hands (And A Little Bit Of Space). The first verse dated very quickly as it happens, because at the time of writing, wearing masks in confined spaces hadn't become a thing. 

But the chorus goes like this:

"As long as we’ve got clean hands, and a little bit of space 

There could be hope for the human race".

The thing is, I suspect we've all had more than our fill of "a little bit of space". And the question is now about how we're going to start to rebuild our connections and our lives when we can get close enough to touch again.

It's been a difficult time, but I also think that there is an opportunity to do so many things differently. Maybe even do them  better. And I'm a believer in the beauty of small differences adding up to big changes. 

But it does take work. And commitment. Hope alone, is not enough if we want to live together in better harmony. 

Spring Is In The Air

Some performers have actually performed.

Not a digital, online thing (which has it own benefits, particularly when there is nothing else) but in the presence of real life, flesh and blood. 

It feels, almost, like Spring is in the air. Not just the weather. A potential reset to the lives we once had. 

So I’m imagining the possibility, just that at the moment, of having people come and play songs again in our house. It’s good to imagine. If you love music and people then maybe you could join me in imagining the same thing. In your house. There are plenty of talented original artists who would love to play for you and your invited guests. 

I call them Homesongs. It’s a thing. And from now on I’ll be talking daily about Homesongs, music, community, and all things connected, on this blog.

Take care. But don't stop dreaming.