Despite Ourselves
“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right”.
Ain’t that always the case. True as well, for the person on either side of us.
We all do quite an amazing job, despite ourselves.
.
Farting Around
Todays blog is a cheat. Friend and Homesonger Rosie Nimmo recently posted the quote below on her Facebook newsfeed. It really doesn’t need anything added, even if we can agree that it’s not the whole story. But it’s a lovely little perspective about the value of “wasted” time and the importance of not becoming slavishly attached to our digital efficiency.
Kurt Vonnegut tells his wife he's going out to buy an envelope:
“Oh, she says, well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.
I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I'll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is - we're here on Earth to fart around.
And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And what the computer people don't realise, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it's like we're not supposed to dance at all anymore."
Mr Blue Sky
When I was 15 I set out with a mate to catch a train to Birmingham. We were going to see ELO at the NEC. It was the first big gig I had been to. And it might partly explain my later love affair with the smaller variety.
The sun shone on this February day. Mr Blue Sky was alive and well, and we travelled light. Jeans, t-shirt and ourselves. But at some point on our trip to the venue the snow arrived.
We got there in plenty of time, late afternoon. And it was quite cold. After a couple of hours we were told that the gig was going to be delayed an hour or so at least. Something to do with the weather. And there was nowhere to go. We just had to wait outside until we were let in, maybe 4 hours after our arrival. Later we discover the temperature had dropped to minus 15 celsius.
When we finally did get in, the venue wasn’t even half full. Folk had struggled to get there due to road conditions. And we spent more than half the concert recovering from what was probably mild hypothermia. I don’t remember much apart from that.
It is, as they say, always good to live in the moment. But here’s a useful tip. It’s also sensible to check the weather forecast.
And here’s a Sunday morning tune that will help me at least to remember that.
Left It Too Late (Just On Time)
Treated seriously it’s amazing how well a deadline can focus our creativity.
The songwriting friends who I’ve met up with, for well over a decade now, sometimes set a deadline of one hour in which we have to try and write a song. We sometime add a further constraint such as a fixed title.
One time I misheard the title we were supposed to be writing to. I thought it was “Better Late Than Never” but with 15 minutes to go I discovered it was actually supposed to be “Left It Too Late”.
So I had to ditch the first attempt (which I remember being happy about, because it was rubbish) and starting from scratch. And, just on time, I had a short punky blast of a thing which, if nothing else, I was happy to sing to my mates as “a song”.
When we’re recording to my monthly deadline , the last session, and sometime the last hour of the last session, are often the point where something that wasn’t working somehow comes together.
Who knows why it works like that, but a self imposed deadline is a really excellent tool to get the creative juices flowing with anything we’re trying to make.
Confessions Of A Loft Insulation Salesman.
My first ever job was a commission only number just after finishing school.
My task was to go door to door and sell people loft insulation. And it should have been an easy sell, because the vast majority of the cost was payed for by a government grant, the amount the customer had to pay was negligible, and the benefits were easily explained.
Still, after a month of knocking on doors I’d had three bites, and only one person who was prepared to sign on the dotted line, for which I got 30 quid in my pocket. I persevered though, and the happy news is that eventually I started to break through, and now I OWN that loft insulation company.
So I gave up. And these days loft insulation is just something that everybody has. I put an extra layer in our attic. It felt like the right tribute to my younger self.
I’m no salesman. And yet these days I’ve fall into the vocation of “selling” the idea of Homesongs. But it’s hard to find people who will take the plunge and actually host a gig in their home despite it’s many glorious wonders.
So, to remind myself, and you, of why Homesongs are GREAT, here is a little clip of a young local Campbeltown band, The Endorphins, singing one of their own songs at their first ever gig, a Homesong gig, at our house.
That’s why I do it, and this time I’m not giving up.
The Other Shoes
I’m not constrained by the need to feed the family when I write a song. It’s a hobby, not my way of putting money on the table. And when I hear a formulaic song on the radio, I sometimes count my blessings and think:
“There, but for the grace of god, go I”.
On the other hand a lot of Motown writers were writing to feed the family. The songwriting was the day job, paid at a rate.
Look at the creativity and joy that came from that.
A hobbiest may fall short of the relentless dedication needed to produce great work. And a professional will sometimes phone it in.
In either position it might be helpful to put ourselves in the other’s shoes.
Photographic Memories
I could show you a nice photo with a lovely view, taken towards the end of my walk, up and along the hillside of Ben Gullion.
In the distance you would see the island of Arran.
- I would see a place where I got stranded one time with my wife because of a ferry breakdown.
Closer in you would see Davaar Island guarding the entrance to Campbeltown Loch.
-I would see Daniel, my eldest son, walking with me round the coastline of the island when he was 13.
You would see Campeltown Loch
- I would see myself capsizing a Kayak one October in a force 5.
On the near shoreline you would see some cottages.
- I would see a friend of my wife’s, who was not long ago sharp and full of life, and now has dementia with all of it’s blurriness.
Nearer by, below, you would see a graveyard
- I would see Jim McArthur, a tiny man who I worked with for years, who had a huge voice, a big character, and a great sense of humour. He also had downs syndrome.
And finally you would see the branches of the pines trees through which we’re seeing all of this together.
And I would feel an ongoing sense of peace and gratitude for life and memories, for physical health, for friendship, and for the privilege to share some of this with you.
Things You Don’t Need
Things You Don’t Need To Host A Homesong in your house:
A stage
A stage presence
Special lighting
Amplification
A big room
A microphone
Tickets
A face lift
A top hat
A magic wand
Plus Ca Change
Well it’s the first time in a while I haven’t had to do my little morning routine to set up a broadcast for the online Homesong set in the evening.
Always weird when an established habit changes. But good for the flexibility muscles. And on Wednesday I’ll be able to do that morning dance once again anyway. Because that’s part of the new routine for the online sets.
Yep, we’re on at 7pm on Wednesday’s. And planning to give a little bit more of a promotional push to the artists who are playing. Coming up this week is the wonderful Beki Hemingway with the excellent accompaniment of her husband Randy Kerkman.
I think we should reintroduce the habit of having a little chat with whoever’s playing on the night, so that we can all get to know them better.
Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Let’s do that!
ps. And btw, here is this month’s Fee Comes Fourth tune by yours truly, “Original Son”.
This Then That
I was going to do that this morning, because I aways do, then I was going to do that, and then that. But this came up. So that will have to wait until later.
It often happens that, like Eric Morecambe, I find myself playing all the right notes but not necessarily in the right order.
And sometimes, as luck or chaos or the muse would have it, a better song emerges.
Strange that.
Row To Shore
The song lyric below came to mind this morning. It’s a co-write between Kim Le Clair and myself. She is an online friend who has been a great support during the last year with all things homesong and more.
I’ve lost the tune, so that will need to be rectified, but it’s simply about the importance of continuing to try and connect to other people, particularly at times when it seems difficult or we had maybe given up on doing so at all.
I see you there
In your little boat
All alone on the ocean
You’re holding on
You’re still afloat
Anchored by some strange devotion
You’ve been out there
The longest time
Living off your own resources
Maybe now
Now’s the time
To make some other choices
You row to shore
Don’t know what you’ll find there
You row to shore
Fight against the tide
You row to shore
Who knows what you’ll find there
Maybe just
Another place to hide
Now the shoreline
Is getting clearer
You see people just like you
You row to shore
They’re drawing nearer
Like the morning light
Breaking through
But it’s not too late
For turning back
You’ve always been
Your own best friend
No guarantees
Your heart gets mended
Or that the pain
Will ever end
You row to shore
They gather round you
You row to shore
They help you in
You row to sure
Somehow they found you
You row to shore
And you found them
So row to sure
Though you be fearful
Of your own shadow
And what might be
You’re not alone
That’s not what you’re here for
So row to shore
Not out to sea
Time Glides By
Ironically, as tonight we end this period of HomeSongs4Life that took us through lockdown, I’m in lockdown. At least until we get the results for one of our household members who needed to take a Covid test yesterday.
C’est la vie. It’s always change, change, change.
From our tiny bubble in history, it feels like we’re living in strange times. But the truth is that it’s always been that way. And we have always had to adapt, or die trying.
In this changing world we humans are an odd species, with a strange song. A song that is still getting written. With instruments that we’re still in the early stages of learning to master. Like an eager apprentice fiddle player disturbing the neighbours as they make inappropriate screeches, instead of the actual tune they were hoping for.
But we keep practising. It’s a work in progress ain’t it? All of it.
And sometimes we make something of beauty, and it’s all worthwhile, and the earth breathes a little easier.
Like this lovely song I heard only yesterday, recently written and recorded by a couple of our wonderful HomeSongs4Life performers.
Just A’ Moving On.
Today is the penultimate HomeSongs4Life in this sequence of Every Weekday online gigs. This evening we are heading over to Seattle to join Kevin Baier. Although it will be 11am for him when he plays, an ungodly hour for many performers. He’s got a couple of mates along for the ride. Extra musicians has been a nice addition to some of the more recent sets.
And tomorrow we will be finishing this 9 month loop with Norman Lamont, who played a recent gig, the first since all the lockdowns began, here in Campbeltown. It was great to meet him (along with Rosie and Tommy Nimmo) in person.
Alongside his set (of 4, yes FOUR songs!) I will be having a wee online chat with Norman tomorrow evening to finish off this little chapter. Chris Annetts will be joining us. So it would be great if you could pop in to say hi.
It’s been a real pleasure to get to know so many wonderful songwriters during this time. And I hope many more of us can meet in person in the future. A massive thank you to all of those who have been involved.
HomeSongs4life is not going anywhere though. We’ll still be here on Wednesday’s at the new time of 7pm (UK time). And trying to give more of a proper intro to the artists who are performing. And there will be a new monthly Sunday feature starting, that I’ll introduce soon.
Finally the blog will continue daily, like an unstoppable freight train, carrying the message of “Small Gigs Where You Live” to where you live. It would be lovely if you would climb on board and subscribe. (see the button up there on the right)
So it’s not goodbye. We’re just a’ moving on.
And I’d like to send my ongoing love, from me to you.
Planting Sunflowers
I’ve got the urge to tell you a little bit of the story that prompted the writing of the song I spoke about a couple of days ago.
The journalist who contacted me for that reason had been on a long journey from her home in Louisiana to Arkansas. On her journey she came by some huge fields of sunflowers, with a sign alongside that simply said “We love you Clyde”.
And she found out that those sunflowers were planted, every year, by the parents of a young man who had died working on the family farm. It was their way of remembering him.
And I’m thinking this morning that we, and more specifically, I, can easily be inclined to turn the pain and disappointments of life, whether big or small, into negative pity, resentment, anger.
Which is why we need a story or a song or something that works, to regularly remind ourselves that there is a better way to deal with those sorrows and difficulties.
We can plant our own sunflowers instead.
All By Myself
A person singing a song, unaccompanied, is as simple as it gets.
Add more to the mix and things can get complicated. But potentially more interesting. A symphony orchestra is almost a corporation of sound, involving masses of organisation, a multitude of technically skilled players, countless hours of training and, to make it all work and bring it together, charismatic leadership.
Then there’s everything in between. And it’s all good as far I’m concerned.
A song, with a melody and a lyric, doesn’t really care how it is performed. And we, the listeners, can appreciate it in all its many manifestations.
But a good song is always comfortable in it’s own company.
The Pleasure Zone
A while ago I got asked to help with the writing of a song by a complete stranger. We just happened to be doing the same online creativity course, and she had heard a song of mine.
Jan is a journalist in the USA who’d been carrying round a story in her heart for a few years. A story that she felt could be turned into a song. But she had never written a song. So she'd been looking for someone who she thought fit the bill to help her with the task, hence the request. I felt very honoured to be asked, as you can imagine.
And she was right. There really is a song in her sad, beautiful story. But for various reasons, after a good start, the writing got delayed and we lost touch.
But that song was eating away at me by now, and I managed to get hold of her again just recently. And then very quickly, after she had sent me more details and some very singable lines, the song got finished. It’s called The Ballad Of Clyde Burt.
Well it’s alway exciting to finish a song. Honestly it’s one of my greatest pleasures. But to have finished a song that I’m really happy with, AND to have the extra anticipation of sending it to my co-writer for a listen…that’s just like Christmas come early. Let’s hope she likes what I’ve done with it, huh?
Anyway, I like it, and I’m so full of it at the moment, that I’d love to play it you or anyone who will listen. But you’ll just have to wait. Jan’s got to hear it first.
Can you tell? I’m in the pleasure zone.
By The River
I’ve heard some wonderful new music during these last 9 months of Homesongs4Life. I believe every one of those who has performed have written a song, or songs, that can stand up, loud and proud alongside anything in their particular genre.
And as a case in point, let me introduce a perfect lazy Sunday morning song from one of the H4Life crew, and an old friend of mine, Gary Carey. The first time I listened to this song it sounded like an instant classic. I’ve heard it many times since, and not changed my mind one little bit.
So do yourself a favour, sit down (or lie back!) with a cup of coffee, and take a listen to “By The River”. Just scroll down the page and you’ll find it (no.7) among the songs on his “What’s Not To Like?” album.
I’ll be doing the same.
Advocacy From The Devil
Hi. I’m the Devil. But you can call me Deve. I’m going to tell you why Homesongs will never catch on. Listen up!
They only reach a few people. Honestly! Why is a performer going to limit themselves to singing to 20, when they can potentially sing to 50 or 100 or 100,000? Think bigger man!
Too close! Too close! So, you know you’re gonna loose that superstar magic right? When the WHOLE audience can see the singers nose hair. And of course get a free shower of that lovely spit they occasionally produce (did someone say Covid?) when they’re belting out a tune?
The hosts don’t make any money ffs! You expect them to give up an evening to let people into their homes? For free?!!!!!!
It’s a hassle man. Too much change. People already know where they can go and hear good music. They already know where they can perform. It’s sorted. Chillax! Keep those homes peaceful and private!
And anyway, people are going out less and less. The Future is right here, right now. In front of your computer. Real life with real people is very messy and REALLY over-rated. The digital world will only get better and better.
Still not convinced?
Well, nobody is gonna know the tunes are they? Most of those artists prepared to do those gigs are relatively unknown. Given the choice between hearing their new (to you) and potentially crappy songs or hearing The Rolling Stones singing Sympathy For Me at Wembley Stadium… it’s a no brainer. At Wembley EVERYBODY will be singing along. You’ll feel like part of the universe! AND you’ll keep me happy. Win, win.
Also, and finally, the Youth are the future. Try getting them into a house to hear a “singer/songwriter”! God help you. And everybody knows that any music made by someone over the age of 25 is automatically inferior.
I say Homesong, Schmomesong! That’s what I say.
Take care now.
ps. Oh, and thank you to Seth Godin for whispering the idea into my pointy red ears.
Why Didn’t They Tell Us That?
It has become apparent that there are lots of things I can’t do. But the only ones that bother me are the ones that I want to do.
Like getting REALLY locked on and solid with a new guitar picking technique.
Or becoming fluent in Dutch.
Or finding the next person who wants to host a Homesong gig.
Honestly, I’m finding it takes a whole lot of time and effort to do the things I want to do.
Why didn’t they tell us that?
Coal Tit And The Love Pellets
I’ve been trying to get a better handle on sound. A better handle on the details of sound, because I’ve always been a broad strokes, big emotions kind of guy, not brilliant at picking up on the nuance and detail.
And I’ve been listening more closely to Bird Song this summer. They invented singing, so it’s a good place to start. Yesterday I spent some time focussing on the coal tits that were passing through a patch of conifers on the hillside where I walk.
So, for your information, the coal tit first does a little high pitched two note lock and load. The second note is a little bit higher. It might need to do this two or three times.
And then the little beauty fires a tiny round of the gentlest love pellets you ever heard.
Folks, these are the bullets we should be going to war with.
I’m telling you, listen out for them
Coal Tit And The Love Pellets.
They could be huge.