To All The Caterpillars Of The World

My 6 year old grandson Saul has taken over drawing the pictures for my monthly Fourth of the month song release. He was only given the title for this one and came up with the wonderful idea of a caterpillar painting a portrait of it's future butterfly self.

Beautiful.

A Place Called Home

Kintyre has been the place we've lived for 25 years, and the house I'm writing from, our specific residence for 10 years. And we're not going anywhere. But in my life, as a kid and as an adult, I moved house about 20 times. It's not a recipe for a settled, secure existence. That's why this house and Campbeltown have become so important to me.

We've found our home. And having one isn't a given. Many people don't even have the physical house, let alone that special emotional shelter, that gives us the security to spread our wings and try new things. If we want to.

If you haven't got a home right now, don't stop looking, or working to build one. It's a precious thing to have, and I'm certainly not taking mine for granted.

Ignoring The Flies

It's a gorgeous, warm summers day. I've climbed for a while and I approach the Paths of Tranquility, my place of peace, along the forest trails on the slopes of Beinn Ghuilean. Entering into the fragrant smell of pine trees, I start walking in and out of shade, sunlight bursting through the branches in glorious patches of warm light. Beautiful.

Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention the flies. They arrive with the nice weather, attracted perhaps by the sunshine and the small amount of my own fragrant sweat from the uphill walk.

So what is usually an unhindered solitary wander becomes a battle to ignore the swarm of flying beasties shouting "LOOK AT ME!". No...really....LOOK AT ME!!!!!!!!

For a while I'm winning. I maintain my Zen, and see beyond them to the always wonderful colours, listening out for the bird song in the trees. But my Zen is not always very Zen. And the moment comes when I obey orders...and I look. And then, inevitably, I look again. And then I slowly become irritated. You perhaps know how it goes. And suddenly I turn into a whirling dervish, hoping to fight them off forever with a spinning dance and waving arms.
And perhaps you also know how that ends. Or doesn't.

Learn to ignore the flies?

Maybe we can, maybe we can't.

Only way to find out is to keep walking, I suppose.

That’ll Do

"That'll do" sounds like a settling for second best.

For me it is a cure for the sort of perfectionism which can freeze a soul and stop anything getting done.

Nothing is perfect. We just take steps in the right direction.

Hand Ground Coffee

Electronic Devices and Fuel Driven Machines don't seem to like me. That's how it has often seemed anyway. 

These days I take it personally! I've got a manual lawn mower for instance. So much more peaceful. And a while ago I bought a hand worked coffee grinder. It takes me 10 minutes or so to grind the coffee every morning, and it could be a hassle.

Instead it's becoming a wonderful daily reminder to slow down. Take my time. Haste me not. Honestly, my breathing gets calmer as I do it, and before I face the tasks of the day. 

I see Homesongs as the hand ground coffee of music. The end product is much the same.

They're just that little bit less rushed. And less parts to go wrong!

Not Quite Home

Even though we might have been seeing more of our homes during this past year and a half than we really would have wanted to, the places we live haven't always felt like home.

It is the presence of other people that make it so, and many of those "other people" haven't been able to cross the threshold. 

Without the people we love passing in, and out, a home is not quite a home. 

Chaos Theory And Scrambled Eggs

Chaos: noun 

"complete disorder and confusion".

For better or worse we humans attempt to bring order and meaning to almost everything that appears on our path through life. It involves constant work. No wonder we appreciate a good night's sleep. 

Chaos, on the other hand, doesn't seem to take  any effort at all. 

Apparently those words and notes aren't going to arrange themselves into a song.

So even if Yesterday did come to Paul McCartney in a dream, it came to him in a dream because he spent so much of his time putting the work in - arranging tunes, trying out different musical notes alongside each other, on a day to day basis.

 And it was still a pile of Scrambled Eggs until he put in the work to write the lyric properly. 

It’s No Sacrifice

Elton John is today reported giving the government a rollocking because of the way it has handled the economic impact upon the British entertainments industry after Brexit.

"What makes me crazy is that the entertainment business brings in £111bn a year to this country and we were just tossed away".

Must confess, I don't know much about the economics or the politics here. Technically though, many of the songwriters I'm involved with are a part of this "entertainment industry" which Elton is speaking about. But I, for one, undoubtedly pay into that big pile of Spondoolies rather than receive from it. So I when I hear these figures bandied about, I do have a little wry smile to myself.

The truth however, is that I'm blessed, as are many of us, with the freedom to approach music as a love affair...not as an obligation, a duty, or way to put food on the table.

There is no right or wrong in any of this. Merely a simple acknowledgement that the grass can be green on either side of the fence. And that there is more than one way to measure success.

Although you'll never hear me complain, should the odd coin from that mythical 111 Billion ever land in my pocket.

Going Live!

I've been increasingly hearing some heart piercing rumours about people playing songs, listening to songs, and actually being there, in the presence of Live Music. With other people in the room.

Up until now I had managed to avoid any sense of dissatisfaction by virtue of the useful distraction which HomeSongs4Life online presence became. But now, with the arrival of these rumours, and my own plans moving forward for hosting Homesong gigs in Kintyre, I'm starting to get itchy feet.

It's true. Online Live is OK. But Live Live is undoubtedly better. We are after all, it turns out, still Human Beings, and not digital automatons.

One Way Or Another

My all time favourite song review came from a friend, Murray Webster, who later founded London Songwriters to teach songwriting skills to others. He knows his coffee beans. After laying my very soul on the line, as we do every time we sing a new song to anybody, other than ourselves in the shower, he responded with the immortal "WTF was that?"

And he definitely had a point from a critique point of view. That song returned to the great Song Recycling Plant in the depths of my subconscious, never to surface again.

However, as time goes by, I become more inclined to measure the value of a song by those kind of reactions. There are a hell of a lot of nice songs out there. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with nice. A pleasant life with nice background music isn't a life to be sniffed at. It's something to aspire to, especially when we've had our struggles.

But surely anything we do creatively is done for some kind of attention. To make a mark. To say "I woz here!".

Punk made people go "WTF was that!". Many meant it negatively, but for others it was a breath of fresh air that helped them to find new meaning and purpose. To feel that their lives mattered too.

Maybe we should be writing more songs that make people care. One way or another.

Go Local

Most of the Homesong gigs I've hosted have involved inviting a touring performer from "outside" and setting up as a "proper" gig, albeit far more relaxed and intimate than most kind of performance situations.

But there is an even simpler, more chilled way to go, even though it works much the same way. If you know a few local musicians/songwriters (or even just one) invite them round to your house to play. And then invite a few friends to come and listen. You could put a "busking box" out to provide the player(s) with a little something for their troubles, or to donate to a local charity, but money doesn't have to play a part for these kind, necessarily.

And then see what happens.

We've have a few fantastic nights doing this. One where we invited some local young singer-songwriters to play (some for the first time in public) was particularly good. It's always brilliant to see younger folk stretching their wings creatively.

And a living room is a lot less intimidating than a pub, or a big hall if you're performing for the first time.

So why not go local and bring the music home?

Falling With Style

To be fair the footballers have got it harder than songwriters. So many ways to upset folk, even...sometimes especially...your own supporters. 

They say everybody loves a winner. But sometimes the question becomes a choice of preference. Win the competition? Or play with passion, style and flair, but go home early?

In an ideal world we'd like to do both. But there are always more losers than winners.

And, given the choice, I'm firmly on the side of  falling with style.

Developing Low Expectations

Most songwriters and performers in the history of songwriting and performing have been hobbyists or moonlighters.

But over the last 50 years expectations have changed, and those of us who have been working at our craft for years and take our creative work seriously, sometimes have a sense of failure, disappointment, and even resentment if we haven't managed to "break through" yet. Which in our own minds probably means getting the recognition and money that our undoubtedly fantastic creations deserve!

Leaving aside whether we're actually as good as we think we are, that outlook is still very much a thing among we singer/songwriters of a certain vintage. And despite the fact that all the evidence suggests the golden age of popular music is over.

But if the "songwriting as a route to fame and fortune" myth still exists in our heads, then I think it's necessary, if only for our own mental health, to develop a different outlook.

And I think it's very possible that "lower expectations" as to what success constitutes as a creative artist, can have a very positive effect on the creative work we do produce. Because the work becomes our focus, not the "success".

That's a good thing, isn't it?

Can I Hear Anybody?

Can anybody hear me?

Like everybody else, I'm usually under the impression that my meaning is clear. It's quite disconcerting, as time goes by, to realise quite how far away that belief is from the truth. And this has nothing to do with language, usually. Far more to do with each of our own unique expectations, biases, outlooks, nuanced interpretations, wishes, hopes and dreams.

When I, or any of us, say something in what seems to be our most straightforward manner, our words often carry a slightly different meaning than intended. Sometimes completely different. That's probably why any kind of positive change is difficult and takes so much work. It involves patience. Taking time. Not rushing.

Listening.

And then, gradually, the important question becomes: Can I hear anybody?

A Regular Beat

Keeping a regular beat is not an easy feat. Drummers are amazing as far as I'm concerned. I say that as someone who mainly plays alone. Just me and my acoustic gradually getting faster through a song as the adrenalin kicks in, and I get carried away.

But you can't keep getting faster, indefinitely, before you collapse in on yourself, like a black hole in outer space - out of breath, out of energy, and out of time.

A regular beat. That's where it's at dudes.

Construction In Progress

I'm in the process, with help, of setting up a new Homesong website. The plan is to have a page for each Homesong venue, where hosts can put up details about their upcoming Homesong gigs, and where the people they know and contact can purchase a ticket ( with optional amount of donation) ahead of time.

In addition there should at some point soon, be a place for H4Life artists to put up information about themselves and their own touring plans etc. It will hopefully be a start in enabling Home gig hosts and artist to connect with each other a little easier. It will also continue to provide information about everything Homesong related, in the way the current site does now.

Lots of of other ideas buzzing around my head, but it will be a case of building slowly. And possibly going backwards a little, in order to go forwards.

Watch this space, and as always I'm open to any suggestions and ideas you may have for improvements and additions, either now, or when the site goes live.

Add Your Own Spices

When I host a Homesong here in Campbeltown, Kintyre, I usually make a curry (meat and veggie options) for the folk who are coming along. Everyone gets a little dish of something during the half-time break. Lori, another Homesong host in Kintyre, puts her own spin on making guests for the gig welcome. 

None of which is compulsory when hosting. But it helps to make each event special. 

So here's the recipe for  a Homesong gig:

Mix together A Home, A Performer, and An Invited Audience.

Then just add your own spices. 

Applauding The Flaws

Unlike a blog, such as this, life doesn’t have an edit button. We can’t wipe out the last few minutes and re-type them. 

Which means that our mistakes, our flaws, and our bad sense of timing, are always a part of the narrative. 

Maybe that’s why a live performance has something extra about it. More so than a recording, in which all the fluffs can be extinguished. Live, it can all go wrong. And both the audience and the performer know it. 

Maybe that’s where the applause comes from, when, amazingly, it all goes beautifully right. Or even, sometimes, because of the rough around the edges. 

A Tidy Garden

A couple of days ago I went on a long, knackering, wonderful 20 mile walk in the Cairngorm mountains with my youngest son. A couple of hours after setting off early, through amazing scenery, and before starting the real climbing, we approached the first human being on our walk. A forestry worker, surrounded by this stunning landscape, got out of his 4 by 4 and started lopping a few tiny trees from the side of the track, with a handsaw.

As we came up to him I gave him my best mountainside banter, bearing in mind his task at the time. "Tidy garden, you've got here".

He came straight back with: "Aye, you won't believe it. The boss isn't allowing us to use any machinery".

Which did sound a bit daft.

But it also goes to show that no matter how wonderful your working environment might be, there is always something juicy to complain about, to any wandering passers by.

What If The Internet Went Down?

For most people, before the mid-nineteen eighties, the internet was permanently down. 

OMG! I honestly don’t know how we all managed! 

If it happened today, I imagine it would cause major disruption. But even though we’re all dependent, or feel dependent, upon it, we would of course, get by. As we would without any of our electronic technology. 

I’m in the daily habit of  intentionally “depriving”  myself of it’s ubiquity. I go for a walk in the woods, with my phone, left at home. Alone. 

And I love the Homesong gigs, precisely because they can be played unplugged, with an acoustic instrument, a voice, and just a few people for company. We could (and occasionally do) video them and send them out into the Cybersphere. 

But there is something special about leaving  the Share To The World button, unpressed. About experiencing a moment on our own, or with a few other people, which nobody else will ever experience. 

Technology, as they say, is great, as long as it remains our servant, and not our master.