73 (It’s Just A Number)
I try not to bother with the prevalent statistics and metrics on social media. But a short while ago I happened to see the number 73 in a period when I was feeling depressed. It represented the 73 views for my HomeSongs4Life performance a month or so ago on Facebook.
Here’s what a brain like mine can do with a number like that, when it’s tending towards the negative:
That’s lower than most of the viewing numbers for H4Life. Am I that bad?
And views doesn’t even mean people watching it all FGS! Most people turn off after 30 seconds!
What am I doing wrong? I like my songs, but nobody else does! I’ve really tried to improve my performance!
I started this thing FFS, and I can’t even pull a crowd.
WOE IS ME! etc…
Now I’ve been around a while, and I still sometimes experience these kind of thought patterns. So a while ago I put a little folder of notes aside about the nice things that people have said about my music.
For instance - “Wonderful song. And then I went to your youtube channel and had my whole day turned around. You are magic”.
Or - “Ohhh…I had chills 5 seconds in listening to, ‘Sometimes I Cry’. So much raw, pure emotion in your voice. This piece brought me to tears. It’s really effin’ incredible…”
You’ve got to say (and I’m only blowing my own trumpet for a point - I still find it hard to truly take any compliment on board) that these kind of words are why those of us who are songwriters and performers do any of this. We want to make exactly these kind of connections.
So at the end of the day, what does 73 really know anyway?!
Pfffff! It’s just a number.
Trippin’
A couple of days ago I fell over on a flat pavement. I didn’t trip over anything except myself. No drink involved, although I was heading to the pub for the football.
And though it would definitely have been funny to watch (especially that little jerky dance you do, as though to prove to people that falling on your face was actually part of the plan) I managed to come away with a hole in my trousers and the skin off my kneecap.
’
The thing is I regularly walk in the hills and forests on uneven surfaces. I jump over fences and run down hills. I tie my laces with my foot off the ground for crying out loud. I pride myself on my balance.
But a flat surface, walking along fairly normally, did for me. Perhaps I was a little bit ahead of myself in my head. A bit rushed maybe.
I don’t know.
But the next time I’m in front of an audience, playing a song that I know backwards, I’m going to be that little bit more alert and focussed.
David Olney
Yesterday I wrote a little bit about David Olney and the fact that he passed away while sitting at a chair, playing a song at a gig.
I ended up watching the 30 minute video in the article I linked to, which features him earlier that same day doing four songs and a little interview for a radio show. It’s worth watching for the poignancy of the moment, for the songs, for his gentle humanity, for his clear professionalism.
And for the way he speaks about his love for Home Concerts (as they are grandly called in the US). That was lovely for me to hear.
I highly recommend taking the time to view it.
And if you’re so inspired (like I was on Sunday evening) watch this longer video of his memorial concert held in Nashville in his honour. It is also a thing of great humanity and beauty. With some fantastic songs.
Our time is always precious, but I’m so glad I spent some time finding out more about this man and his music.
People talk about David Olney like a person would want to be talked about.
If It Wasn’t For The Wind
The first signs of Autumn have arrived in Kintyre. In the form of the familiar wind and rain. Thankfully they both stayed away for most of the summer here. But it’s strangely comforting to see them back.
Here’s a lovely song that came to mind this morning. One of my favourites, and by a guy called David Olney:
If It Wasn’t For The Wind
I hadn’t heard of David Olney before I heard this song, and I didn’t hear much about him after either. Not until I read, a year and a half ago, that he had passed away, quietly at his chair, in the middle of singing a song at a gig.
Read the story. It’s quite beautiful.
And what a way to go.
The Fear Factor
I often emphasise the simple and enjoyable part about hosting a Homesong gig.
But there is a scary and challenging side to it too. For instance:
It’s not normal (these days and so far) to invite people to your house for a gig. We all would prefer to be seen as normal among our friends.
We may well have not heard the artists play live. We’re asking people to take a risk with their time in the hope that a good evening is going to be had. But we can’t guarantee that.
We are asking an artist to travel and play without knowing exactly who will turn up.
We will be meeting that artist without having met them before. Who knows how that will pan out?
There is a fear factor to being a host. There probably always will be, even if we manage to take some of the uncertainty and risk out of the equation.
But the rewards do make it worthwhile. I can say that with confidence, having hosted 30 of them.
So if you’re a music lover, with a home, maybe you could take the leap and face the fear.
Jurassic Park - A Film About The Past
From the age when Rock n’ Roll was the new Rock n’ Roll, Genesis are the latest artists to come out of retirement.
Are they doing it for the love of music? Or in order to make sure that they can afford the mortgage repayments on their holiday homes in these notoriously difficult times for ex-supergroups?
Yes, I’m being cynical. And no, I don’t really believe that they are doing it out of any real passion or a sense of care and duty for their adoring fans. Not when the inevitable arena tour tickets are…surprise, surprise…on sale for between £100 and £800.
So here comes another of my crazy metaphors trying to allude to the fact that small is beautiful, and that we, the Great Unknown, count for something in this musical landscape.
Because you know, there was a time when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. And in their shadows, hidden away from those enormous stomping feet, were the little furry creatures that today we call mammals. They didn’t make much of a stir at the time. But those wee creature were adaptable, flexible, tough. And cute. And today they are still around and the impressive and temporarily successful dinosaurs are not.
And it’s true that, for a short while, making great music became a source of self aggrandisement and fortune building. And there are indeed still a few dinosaurs stomping around to that end. There are still the remnants of an industry supporting them. But I think that all of that cheapens and undervalues the songs and wonderful music that was created.
And I believe that the music we create can be about far more than that same means to a selfish and individualistic end. It can have a purpose to build and connect genuine community at a time when even families are at war with each other.
I hope our music does at least have that aim.
Because Jurassic Park is a film about the past. That’s all it is.
Cattle Grids And Green Grass
I was walking across a cattle grid yesterday. It was a doddle and the cattle (i.e. Bulls!) didn’t follow me.
Which is amazing! I mean, how come that one member of the bovine race hasn’t sussed them out since they were invented ? I’m sure even with hooves some smart beast out there could have found a way.
Fill the gaps with munched up grass or something.
Come on guys…I believe in you! You can do it!
Or maybe they’re just happy where they are.
We’d have found a way of course. We are The Humans! We evolve and learn. The grass is never green enough in our field. No sir!
And that discontent is the curse which has probably led to the vast majority of the pain and suffering and wars and depression that we have experienced. But it has also been the source of all our positive creativity, bringing such joy and pleasure.
I’m not sure where I’m going with this story.
Which I suppose is also like life as a human being.
But the bottom line is… we’re not stuck in a field. We’re blessed with choices to make about the direction we take….once we’ve crossed over that tricky cattle grid.
I live in hope that my little brain, and the rest of the damn world, with all it’s huge potential, can learn to make better choices, a bit more often.
Soon please.
How We Do Things
Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus, chorus.
It’s a formula that works and those very constraints can lead to creativity. But if we stay too comfortable, for too long, with the old formulas, we can suddenly find ourselves in a world that has moved on to something different.
Of course nothing wrong with sticking with what we know per se. But creative people, in a changing world, will always be more motivated to push the boundaries of how we do things.
Because that’s definitely…
More fun. More interesting.
And when the world is changing in bad ways, perhaps it is also…
More compassionate. More courageous.
Not just how we write a song. How we do anything.
Room Sized
When I talk about hosting Homesongs, people sometimes say that they would like to do it but they have not got a big enough living room.
That might be subtext for not really wanting to do it of course. Which is fine.
But does the size of your living room really matter?
From the point of view of the vast majority artists who want to play Homesong gigs, a small and attentive audience is definitely better than no audience at all. It’s also better than a larger audience who aren’t paying any attention.
Personally we are lucky now to have a fairly large room for hosting. It is ideal. But not so long ago we lived in a tiny terrace house with our 4 children at the time. And I know we could have squeezed 15 people in there with a few cushions on the floor - though we never did back then because the concept of home gigs wasn’t in my vocabulary at the time.
An audience of 15 is a gig.
You don’t need a Tardis to host a homesong. Just a home.
See My Baby Jive
I think I was on holiday at the time, walking through a fairground with my parents. That was when I remember hearing my very first pop song, at about the age of 7 or 8. It was See My Baby Jive by Wizard. Either that or Long Haired Lover From Liverpool by Jimmy Osmond. But I won’t inflict that one on you.
There was never any pop music in our house though, until I was allowed to watch TOTP’s at about the age of 13. But it is amazing how the music and events we experience when we are young seem to stay with us for life.
I’d like to think though that we can keep making memories with music through the whole of our lives. And I totally disagree with the idea that our creativity declines as we get older.
I think there are great tunes up for grabs in the stratosphere at any age . And lyrics that perhaps range a little wider and possess a bit more wisdom.
But I hope none of us ever lose that elation, or the sheer optimism we had, when we first saw our baby jive.
Oh my!
Learning To Walk
Once upon a time I learnt to walk.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Took many months of fallings and failings.
Every single one of the hundreds of muscles I was trying to use needed its own personal and extended training session. Repeated over and over. It seemed to take forever before I was standing on my own two feet and actually moving myself from one place to another.
I was only wee at the time though. You’d think that learning new things would get easier with age and experience, wouldn’t you?
But it turns out that the same rules still apply.
Hey Buddy!
At the restart of our live Homesong gigs we had two artists coming down and sharing the stage.
This happened mainly because I had a lot of people wanting to perform. But from the feedback of the performers themselves, and from my own impressions, I thought it worked really well. The finances earned by the artists, though shared, were still more than adequate; it was nice to have the variety from a listeners perspective; and there was an undoubted sense of togetherness.
Which makes me think that linking up might be a way forward. Certainly from a personal point of view I like the idea of sharing these gigs. The role of Singer/Songwriter can be a lonely one. And it might be easier to motivate ourselves to spread the word, and find new Homesong hosts, in twos and threes rather than on our lonesomes.
Anyway, I’m in the process of trying to repeat the experience here in Kintyre. Coming up at the beginning of November, Kevin Farrell and Gary Carey of H4Life are coming up for some gigs. Yeah!
But if you know of anyone who might wish to host such a thing where you are, then please get in touch. Personally I’m up for travelling to help find new home venues, and I’m sure that many others among the H4Life crowd would be too.
I suspect building a network of home gigs, especially in these beginning stages, is going to come down to the efforts of those of us who are performers. Either hosting them ourselves, finding people to host locally, or travelling to play at existing home venues and then encouraging them to become part of a wider network.
These things don’t happen when we work alone. But they can if we work together.
The Red Button Is Calling Me…
For a number of years I’ve had a lovely routine of recording my monthly releases every Thursday morning with a great sound engineer, arranger, and musician called Sam Hales. He uses a room in our house as a studio and teaching room, so we both get a win out of the situation. I’m writing this minutes before we meet up.
It helps to have the routine. It helps to have the deadline (release is always 4th of the month, hence the Fee Comes Fourth title I use). And it's a real blessing to be able to turn my songs into recordings on a regular basis, with someone who knows what they are doing.
Not everybody can be so lucky with all of this stuff (particularly with having a Sam!) but as songwriters, especially the amateurs among us, I think it’s important to have an outlet and a routine of some kind with our creations.
Anyway, got to head. The Red Button awaits, and who knows what will happen. That’s always exciting.
A88A
We call them guilty confessions.
Things that we like, but we’re not supposed to like them. Because? Well, they’re not cool or hip or boys don’t like that, girls don’t like that….I dunno. It’s never made sense to me.
You like what you like.
I liked Abba back in the day. They gave me some sweet melodies to cry to as I gazed upon my non-existent romantic life. Yeah, I know, but you can’t change the truth.
And I like the fact that they’ve written and recorded some new songs, just now. In fact I like the songs. Do I still cry when I hear them? Hell, yeah.
They won’t be playing a Homesong anytime soon, but here’s a link to some classic NEW Abba.
It’s my blog, and I don’t care.
Doing The Things We Love
Apple very kindly just told me that my screen time was up last week.
I don’t know what you find, but for me there is a definite correlation between that fact, and the old endorphin levels. My moods and outlook take a downturn when a computer screen dominates my hours. I’m pretty sure the science backs that up.
Things that have an opposite and upward effect for me: singing, playing geetar, walking, writing a song, preparing food, reading a book, watching the birds, playing games with the family.
It’s a simple lesson in life that so often goes unheeded:
Life is short. Spend more time doing the things you love.
Somewhere, Out There
Last weekend was a wonderful time of Homesongs and other musical adventures. It was lovely to meet Norman and Rosie and Tommy, whom I' had previously only “met” online through H4Life. And it was the connections with them and their music, and their connections with the people who came to listen, that made the whole experience such a joy.
Afterwards I got a very uplifting email from Norman. I quote it in part below. For me it expresses a reflection of the dilemma that many performing songwriters, myself included, experience. The question we ask:
Is there a relevant place for me and my music somewhere out there?
Norman sent me his email after I’d sent through money he was owed from the weekend:
”the money was never the point, it was the spirit of Homesong, which you brought to life for us all to see. I'm so grateful. To be honest, as I was telling Rosie and Tommy in Tarbert, I'd planned in my mind that next year with the new Heaven Sent album would probably be the end of me performing. I just didn't think I had it in me. This weekend has seen the performer step forward in a way I never expected to see, and actually connecting with people who'd never heard my stuff. And I think it brought out the best in Rosie and Tommy too - just the quality of attention that people brought and the lovely sense of community among the audience themselves.”
Norman has written further about the weekend in a great blog with pictures - Mulling Over Kintyre (groan!). And have a listen to the great songs on his website too. He’s my kind of songwriter.
100 Words
If you’re an artist who has played a Homesongs4Life online set or a live Homesong gig then, with your cooperation, I would like to put up your performer profile on the website. All I need is a maximum of 100 words, a decent photo, and a link to your music.
Artists who have an upcoming home gig will be moved to the top spot, as and when. For now I will put them up as you send them to me.
See roughly what it will look like here.
And below are my 100 words:
“Neither music, nor life, should be a lonely journey. And if it is, the journey can change”.
Hi, I’m David and I’ve been writing songs forever. Songs about life and death and everything in between. I record a new one every month, and send it out to anyone on my email list.
I’m also the founder of Homesong, and gigs in houses are my favourite way to perform and hear songs. Through my music I want to connect with people who believe that the world can become a kinder and more compassionate place for us all.