Romie

Yesterday I was busy writing a song for my fourth grandchild and first granddaughter, Romie, who is a real cutie. I have written and recorded a song for all the grandsons to date. It’s become a tradition. But recently their mum says they’ve been asking “why hasn’t Romie got a song?”.

That was all the inspiration I needed. And after raising 5 sons and 5 fosters sons ourselves, the arrival of Romie after yet another 3 boys meant, perhaps inevitably, that the opening line of the song is: ”In a land of boys”.

Every song is a joy to write. But the ones for the special people in our lives are the most enjoyable and rewarding of all.

#homesongs

Promoters Wanted

When it comes to music, a promoter is seen as the one who “makes it happen”.

I never planned to be a promoter when I started holding Homesong gigs in our house. But that is in fact what a Homesong host sometimes is by default, particularly at the beginning.

I want to find people who are willing to take on that role in just one situation and one venue. Their own home and at a time of their choosing. Host is still a better word, but there remains a certain amount of “promotion” needed, even to get a living room full of people.

At the moment that’s because it’s still not a “thing” that people do by second nature. Like a trip to the pub, or the cinema. There’s a little bit of strangeness in going to a house for a gig, because it’s not a widely known cultural phenomenon.

That can change, and I want to make it as easy as possible in the future, but for now a host does have to be a promoter too. The potential audience may well need a fair bit of encouragement.

Anyone up for the challenge?

The end result, an intimate music gig in your own house, and some happy visitors, both the audience and the artists, makes it all worthwhile. I promise.

Big In Japan

I often find myself preaching (mainly to myself) the value of creation for its own sake. The enjoyment to be found in the simple act of creating. Just making a mark that says “I woz here”.

And the unimportance of a big audience.

But Pop and the desire to be popular is popular for a reason. Because there can be that feeling, when you’re singing a song, or doing anything for an audience, of needing to “sell” the goods. Simply because the listeners haven’t heard it before.

Doing this repeatedly, as most performers of original songs need to do, can become a bit jading. A bit “here we go again”.

So to walk in front of a crowd that knows your songs, and might even sing along to all the hooky bits is, of course, a lovely idea. The few moments when I have had people singing along to one of my songs was very up-lifting. Likewise, when other people have sung my songs.

So there is value in being popular. It isn’t meaningless. It says something positive about what we have created. And it might well be something to aspire to.

But there are no guarantees, even if we were to relentlessly pursue popularity as an end in itself.

And no point, either, in wearing our unpopularity as a badge of honour.

Also, Big In Japan (mainly because I like it)

Back In The Saddle

We’ve just had the return of the yearly Mull Of Kintyre music festival here in Campbeltown. It was great to play a couple of sets and to actually feel a little less intimidated by the prospect of being in the spotlight than I sometimes have in the past. Despite the long absence.

Some of us performers are naturals. And some have to work harder. I really enjoyed watching an old fella playing a few tunes in a pub last night. He was rough and ready and a wee bit drunk. But he had his own style. And he rode the heckling and the bumps in his own performance like a pro. It was a joy to watch, and he was clearly enjoying himself too.

Maybe you can’t learn what he had. But, anyway, it is wonderful when the songs and the singer appear so inseparable.

Reading Between The Lines

For the longest time when I “read between the lines” the story was always about me. And it was never a positive one.

No good song ever came out of that way of thinking either.

As a songwriter I needed, I need, to be putting myself in the shoes of other people. And for the vast majority of time, other people’s shoes are not filled with my fat feet. No matter how much our narcissistic, self obsessed brains would try to tell us otherwise, we are not very much in other people’s thoughts.

A lot of the great songwriting happens when a songwriter uses empathy and imagination to tell somebody else’s story. When the lines in between are read, but from another’s perspective.

It’s a good skill to develop, and not just as a songwriter.

Like all of this stuff it’s a work in progress though, isn’t it?

.

Standing On The Shoulders Of Ants

I’m perhaps in a minority, but I’ve never really been a fan of superhero films.

The thing that bugs me about them is the way bystanders are turned into…well, bystanders. People who are dependent on the superhero saviour to save them. Nothing they can do. Just stand there watching in a gormless state of awe, while the world is saved. Or not. They have no part to play, other than as a backdrop to someone else’s achievements.

Of course it’s not a bad thing to have people to look up to. It’s fantastic to see anyone excelling at something.

But I think the best kind of excelling, the most excellent excellence, occurs without pedestals and medals and passive applause from the sidelines.

It happens when everyone who is willing is involved in building something.

It happens when we stand on the shoulders of ants.

Turnstones And Potatomen

I can walk along the seafront here in Campbeltown and get very close to these cute, but generally quite inconspicuous little birds. They are called Turnstones.

Turning stones is basically what they do the whole day. If you get close up there is a distinct clicking sound as they use their bills to flip pebbles and stones on the seashore, in order to discover any tasty morsels hiding underneath.

In the world of Creative Name Giving “Turnstone” doesn’t win any awards.

I mention all of this because I’ll shortly be returning to play a set in a village where I played my first 2 ever gigs, at a local bar, The Crubhan. At the first of the two gigs I played a semi-finished song, which seemed to go down okay. At the second gig, 2 weeks later, someone shouted “Play that Potatoman song”.

It took me a moment to realise which song the fella meant, as I didn’t, and still don’t, have any songs containing Potato men within. But I sussed it out, and played the song.

And that song, legend has it, has been called Potatoman ever since.

The moral of this story is, um…yeah…I haven’t got a clue to be honest. Please enlighten me!

The Sitka Spruce

I discovered at some point that the Sitka Spruce forests, which are seen over much of Scotland, are not native, nor very natural. They are just poor quality wood farms, grown as an easy investment by landowners. The trees are grown close together, the soil becomes poorer over time, and the wildlife they attract is limited. I have grown to think of them disdainfully.

But a tree is still a tree. And the Sitka Spruce doesn’t choose where it is planted. I was walking through my regular hill walk yesterday, which takes me through a wood that has a mixture of planted Sitka and other trees.

I stopped and looked for a while, in a darker part of the woods, at a group of these Sitka Trees. And they seemed beautiful.

And I’m learning slowly over time that the way I want things to be…from the way I play guitar, to the audience for my music, to stuff that actually WORKS, to, um, world peace….is one thing. And the way they are is another.

And before I can ever move forward to something better, I have to be able to understand, and find beauty, in things as they are now.

Yes, I’m in zen mode today. That’s just the way things are now.

“I Hear You”

It’s hard to judge the response to everything we put out there in the world.

The much maligned Facebook “likes” at least give some indication that people have engaged with whatever meme, or gif, or song, or profound revelation we posted.

That’s what keeps the punters coming back. That little bit of “like” satisfaction. It’s addictive apparently. I’m not sure that it even makes a difference if it’s one or one million

And a written comment gives even more certainty, and connection. We can measure far more easily the impact we had. We are engaging with someone!

But we are physical human beings who are quite adept at reading body language. And so some kind of physical connection enables the best quality of response for most of us. Whether good or bad. That’s why the performers among us all prefer a real live gig to the online variety. That’s why, I think, Homesong gigs are the best of all.

We all need to experience the impact of those three little words.

”I hear you”.

Unplugged

As a non-technical person I like simple.

Of course even with simple something can go wrong. Just you and an acoustic guitar unplugged? Well, a string can break. You could lose your voice.

But you get the point.

It is amazing what electricity, amplification, and the internet have brought to the party. And in many ways they have changed music for the better, enabling us all to have the full blown musical fiesta experience.

But the harder it is to get the party started, the more that can go wrong. Maybe in the future our current technology will be just as reliable, simple to use, and portable as the voice-box we carry around with us our whole lives.

For now “unplugged” still has an awful lot going for it.

Life Savers?

Can a song save a life?

Maybe.

Maybe sometimes we need a nudge in a shoreward direction.

Maybe sometimes we need a life jacket. Someone else’s shared experience cloaked in a melody that passes ghost-like through the screaming anguish of our thoughts to the quieter waters deep within. The place where we can breathe for a moment. Just long enough to build up a little strength. Just long enough to carry on.

Just long enough to discover that if we can overcome once, we can overcome twice.

Maybe a song can do that sometimes.

I’d like to think so.

Pillars Of The Earth

Pillars Of The Earth is a wonderful novel by Ken Follett about ….a cathedral getting built. It might not sound like a riveting read, but it really is. That’s a recommendation.

But who would dream of building a cathedral? How? And why?

I’ve visited those places as a religious person and as a non-religious person. They are quite incredible either way. The impact that they have upon sound. The sense of space and peace, even when filled with other tourists, is something else.

And when the choir sings….well….it’s enough to make a cynical stone cold soul sing hallelujah.

Some folk would say that human’s have a God-filled gap inside.

Personally, I think we all have a need to feel a sense of awe and wonder. To be part of something bigger than us. To hear the angel’s sing…even metaphorical ones…and to add our voices to the choir.

And I wonder if those people with the aching limbs, tired and sweating, who carved and carried the first heavy foundation stones for those huge, beautiful buildings, were able to do their work with that bigger vision at the heart of their efforts.

Saturday Night’s Alright For…

Saturday night’s alright for fighting of course.

But it might also me nice to go and listen to some songs, up close and personal, written by songwriters who do that weird thing of using their spare time to try and put LIFE, in all it’s many shades and colours, into original and unique words and music. It’s a thing.

You could try doing that in Clachan in a couple of weeks, if you happened to be one of the lucky people who lived near there. But any saturday night, anywhere, holds possibilities for songs to be sung and appreciated in a living room somewhere.

We call them Homesongs.

Learning To Love To Try

How many people end up in jobs that they don’t really care for.

It’s hard to give every task your full and complete attention even when you love what you do. It’s hard to give each person you work with, or for, the same quality of work, consistently. It’s hard to treat each customer or person you interact with the same concern.

Maybe impossible. Even when we love it. But when we love what we do, at least we try.

Or maybe that’s back to front. Maybe, in the trying, we learn to love what we do.

And these thoughts might have something to do with me being in the middle of learning some new tricks on my geetar…

Not The Same Old, Same Old

It would be interesting to know how many original songs have been played in just the few months we’ve been holding these HomeSongs4Life sets.

Of course there have been some repeats, but I’m guessing that over 200 original songs will have been performed. Some of them never heard by anyone but the writer before. And the vast majority of them new to the listeners too.

So much of our music experience is predicable. Whether it be going to the concert of a band or artist we already know very well, the majority of tunes we hear on the radio, or the covers we hear being played by pub bands.

The familiar is comforting.

But it puts a smile on my face to hear a new song.

Daily Miracles

Every note we sing.
Every rhythm we keep.
Every person we touch.
Every sound we hear.
Every breath we take.

It’s a goddamn, foot-thumping, heart-pumping miracle of Life.

What a privilege.

You Qualify

And then there was light!

In two and a bit weeks we will be having some live music in our front room again. This is the link to the first Homesong gig in a while (Friday 27th August) featuring Norman Lamont and Rosie Nimmo. You’re welcome to be here, if you can be here. And there’s another one on the Saturday here.

The chances are that you don’t live where we live though. And I have come across the misconception that Homesong gigs are only a Kintyre thing.

No! A thousand times “No'“.

Homesong is just a name I invented to describe a gig that happens in a home. And at the risk of repeating myself…OK, I am repeating myself…they can happen ANYWHERE. In those things we call homes.

I hope you’ve got a home. And if you do, you qualify.

Good To Be Back

Yesterday I succumbed. I ended my songwriting sabbatical. Earlier than planned, but you songwriters will understand.

I was noodling away with this new picking pattern I’d learned. Nothing fancy, but still a stretch for me. And the a title popped into my head. And The Urge arrived, with a vengeance, not far behind.

So it had to be done. And I have to say, it was fun. Back in the groove.

It’s been helpful to take a break, even from something I loved doing so much.

But oh boy! It’s good to be back. 

It Is Rocket Science

I was struggling to write something today, and returned to this song, Rocket Science, by Mary Cigarettes, just because it tends to have a restorative effect upon me. I found Mary’s introduction to the song made total sense, so I’m quoting him below. It’s a good description about the role of songwriting in general perhaps, helping us to express what “an epic movie this life really is”.

“there's certain things you learn to do when you get older to stop yourself from going nuts. the main thing is you try not to over think every single stupid thing. you give yourself some healthy distance from tricky situations, so you can protect yourself ,and see the wood from the trees.... acceptance becomes a big idea....you stop banging your head against brick walls like a cry baby just because life isn't turning out like you planned.... instead you strive for a bit of clarity.... once all this is in place you get a sense of what an epic movie this life really is. .....Because for all the sadness, and heartbreak, for all of life's supposed injustices, this really is a special and colourful trip we're on.

and that dear friends is what this song is all about....”

Back Home

Even the best holiday doesn’t usually detract from the simple pleasure of getting back home. We see our time away as a time of relaxation. But in reality we stretch ourselves when we experience a new environment and sleep in an unfamiliar bed.

And we breathe a relaxed breath when we walk through the familiar front door. No place like it, apparently.