The Thrill Of Survival

Walking alone in the woods in the dark in Britain, my heart leaps at a strange sound in the night. But I' am definitely not about to be attacked by a hungry creature with a yearning for a tasty human treat, because there are no longer any dangerous beasties on our island. I’m just being hijacked by an ancient part of my brain which wants me to survive above and beyond anything else.

Stage fright falls into this same category.

Which means that … the butterflies in the tummy, shaky hands , nausea, dry mouth, and rapid breathing … telling me that something bad is about to happen if I don’t take some avoiding action, are completely pointless.

It turns out, more often than not, when I press on and sing those songs to the ravenous pack of wolves before me, that I don’t get eaten alive. Hallelujah.

Our emotions are very weird though. It also turns out that not dying, even though I was never actually going to die in the first place (!!!), can really get the happy endorphins kicking in. I survived. Yay!

What strange creatures we are.

Sometimes you’ve just got to roll with it.

Not A Love Song

There are a lot of classic love songs out there. Undoubtedly the most talked about subject in the history of Songdom. It’s been approached from every angle and perspective. Probably impossible to find a new twist on that tale. But it doesn’t stop us writers giving it a shot anyway.

The good news is that there are still a million other subjects that haven’t been done to death. And some of the best songs out there plunged themselves wholeheartedly into that universe of possibility.

Here’s one of my favourite Not A Love Song songs.

Never A Chore

I’m very blessed to be part of a group of songwriters who have been meeting together twice a year for the last 15 years.

Until the big C19.

But we’re back together. Better than ever! A lot of laughter, too much wine, and some songwriting too. The usual mix. It feels like we’ve never been away.

Five of us wrote a crazy song yesterday in an upbeat 1950’s dance style. It had the unlikely title of Do The Chores. I promise it made sense if you were in the room.

But one thing I know. It’s never a chore to be with this group of friends.

Lucky me.

It’s Friday I’m In Love

That Friday feeling.

It’s got deep psychological associations with the patterns of a traditional nine to five working week. And before that the 9 to 3.30 school week. Friday marks the beginning of the end of doing what we are obliged or have been coerced into doing. And the beginning of two whole days of doing whatever the hell we like.

Yay!

There is a Facebook page deep in outer space, where it is possible to witness ageing songwriters, people like me who very few people have heard of, become bitter and disillusioned.

They have been confronted yet again with the possibility that a GREAT song they have written may never achieve the stratospheric levels of attention that it DESERVES.

They will probably never get the chance to spend Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday being a FULL TIME musicky person.

STUCK with making music purely for love. Just something for the weekend .

What poor, unfortunate souls.

Is there a cure for this particular sickness?

Well yes. Yes, there is.

Granny called it “Count Your Blessings”.

Making It Personal

I’ve written two songs over the last couple of days. One a memorial for somebody loved. By me and many others. One a blessing for two people in love.

Making it personal brings the songwriting alive. It focuses me. I want to get it right. And I could happily spend the rest of my days writing songs about the people I know and care about.

Of course you can never sum up any life in one song. But it would be lovely if everybody could have their very own song, written for and about them.

A little memento -

”Listen to this. I am here, and my life matters”.

Convenience Food

So I heat up a microwave meal. Shepherds Pie. No hunting down a beastie in the forest for me. No growing or foraging for my 5 a day. No food preparation. No skills or ingenuity needed. Just a trip to the fridge and a push of a button.

Convenience Food - by Technology. It’s what we Homo Sapiens do, have done and will continue doing as long as we exist. Making complex things and systems that make our lives “simpler”. That save us time

But when I’ve saved the time with my microwave meal, I have to decide what to do with it. Because for most people, including me, thumb twiddling has never been the most rewarding of hobbies. Well only for a while.

So I search for some Entertainment. .

And in fact my entertainment is also brought into the living room, into the palm of my hand, by technology. So I watch a video of a comedian I like on my phone. And I am royally entertained. In fact there is so much of that entertainment available in my pocket, that even Technology will never be able to give me enough time to consume it all.

It’s a conundrum.

On top of that, it turns out that I Can’t Get No Satisfaction…from just being entertained by A.N. Other Entertainment Inc. It all gets a bit soul-less. I get a bit restless. I find myself staring into the void of an empty existence.

I need something more fulfilling. More rewarding. I want to make something myself. What to do? What to do?

I know. I’ll make a curry. From scratch! My own curry powder. The works.

So I do. And it IS very satisfying and rewarding. I’m doing something with my hands. I’m using my senses. Even a bit of a creativity involved - got to mess with the recipe a little bit.

And by the time I’m done that microwave Shepherd’s Pie has been digested.

I’ve got my appetite back again.

Clothes Removal

One of the first bands I got into in a big way, though they were a big thing before my time, were The Kinks. They wrote some wonderfully idiosyncratic pop songs. Like Ape Man.

“In man's evolution he has created the city and
The motor traffic rumble, but give me half a chance
And I'd be taking off my clothes and living in the jungle”

But my word, there are so many clothes to take off these days. Aren’t there?

It seems to me to be a very complicated journey getting back to Simple, or even to Simpler, if those happen to be the destinations we want to reach.

We often find ourselves putting on another new layer of something before managing to discard ones that had come to seem unnecessary. Like engaging in cyclical crash and burn diets. Calories off. Calories on. At the end of the day still feeling like a modern day Michelin Man. Buried under layers of tyres. Very tired.

And wondering where our inner Apeman has buggered off to.

I don’t really think he’s gone anywhere though. In my saner moments I hear his primordial tongue whispering at the edge of my consciousness.…”Just sing that song”….”Go for a walk”…. “Turn off that bright screen thingy” … “go into the garden”….”play with the grandchildren” … “daydream a while”… “don’t click that button!” …. “Climb a hill”.

That kind of thing. Less about discarding. More about doing. `

I think it was Apeman who mentioned the Homesong idea. And these days he’s saying “Don’t let the things that are all about Simple, become another layer of stress”.

And when I listen, my clothes often seem to fall off of their own accord.

Mud

When I was young my life was a lot more defined by mud. And sky. And rivers. And weather. In short, I spent a lot more of it outside. Playing football or cricket. Fishing. Climbing trees. Bird spotting. All the stereotypical boy things.

Then, as with many of us, as we slowly transition from child to adult - I think I’m getting there - life got much cleaner. Less physical, more digital. Less outside, more inside. To the point where my positive childhood experiences were just a bubble in my head, disconnected from my present self, and very easy to pop.

But I love those immortal lines about mortality:

“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”.

And as I get older I’m discovering that it’s possible to be too clean, too warm and too comfortable. My beginning too disconnected from my inevitable end. Not enough time living in a physical reality. Too much time spent on computers looking at and listening to people and an Earth that are merely digital representations of the real thing.

Too little time remembering that I’m human, and being close to other humans. Hearing their voices speaking and singing. Without the assistance of any technology other than that which their physical bodies can manage.

When I was young my life was a lot more defined by mud.

Songs That Sing

I’m on a long, drive heading up the road, with some familiar voices for company.

Just me in the car, but the songs of people I know, both friends and acquaintances, are coming through on the speakers in an order chosen by the random Shuffle on my music player.

Shuffle chooses well. The songs are great and knit together beautifully, despite their eclectic nature. And as I drive, and listen, if feels as though I am getting to know my friends (and acquaintances) a little bit better.

Sometimes those long journeys can feel a bit lonely. But not this one. It’s lovely to have this connection with the songs and their singers.

But I’m not suggesting that you go stalking your musical idols. I gained this privilege simply by attending/hosting Homesongs, and talking to the people who write the songs, in a way that is not possible at larger music gigs.

And those small conversations and connections make the songs sing in a way that has never occurred when listening to some brilliant song on the radio, by an artist who I will never know.

Don’t Leave Your Guitar At Home!

Mostly my guitar, when not being played, sits on its stand, naked and unadorned.

When the guitar case comes out a journey of some kind is in the offing. Maybe a gig. Maybe just a trip to somewhere else.

And somewhere else might not have a guitar.

It would be rude not to bring one along.

Beauty In The Mundane

If you said “Rainy day in Campbeltown” to a Campbeltonian it wouldn’t have quite the same elegance and resonance as, for instance a “Rainy Night In Georgia” does.

Campbeltown rain is plain “rain”. Mundane.

Why is that?

For us of course the particular rain in the song seems to evoke something a little bit more exotic and sultry. It’s almost certainly referring to a warmer rain than the Campbeltown variety, isn’t it? And of course the song in which we hear the words helps to breathe life into the association.

I imagine though, that if you actually live in Georgia, Georgian rain, as a title for a song, is equally as uninspiring, as Campbeltown rain might be to myself and other local residents.

But perhaps the job of a songwriter is simply to find that beauty in the mundane.

In which case Tony Joe White, the song writer behind this one, did a great job.

Matter Like Zappa

I watched a BBC 4 documentary about Frank Zappa last night. It was a revelation, because I have been quite ignorant of his music, though well aware of his name and reputation.

What stood out for me, aside from the wonderful compositions, was the relentless commitment Zappa had to his art and his own singular vision. It completely overwhelmed anything and everything in his life.

And it is probably that extreme commitment which produces the kind of genius that can never be replicated. Not by you or me.

So where do the rest of us stand? Those of us who love our music (or whatever it is we do) but don’t have THAT level of intensity and passion. I know I don’t. Should we just stand back, forget about creating anything, and let those who are REALLY good get on with it?

Well clearly that doesn’t happen anyway, and nor should it. It was good to hear that Zappa himself thought that his only chart hit, Valley Girl, which came as a complete surprise to him, mattered as much as the more complex, more obviously unique music that he created.

And our “three chords and the truth”, or “simple hooks and a beat” or “funky grooves and a tune” matter too. We almost certainly can’t and won’t reach the heights of composers like Zappa. We probably can’t even aspire to their levels…we simply stand in awe and admiration.

But someone (maybe lots of someones) might still love our musical equivalent of a Big Mac or Beans on Toast. We can’t deny our own urge to make something. Because there is room for a multitude of creations in this huge universe we inhabit. And we can, in our own way, inspire other people too.

Like Zappa, we matter. What we do matters. Like Zappa, we should continue to get the work out of our heads and into the world. And because of Zappa, or whichever genius might provide our own personal inspiration, we try to do work that is a little bit better. Next time.

Beldina Odenyo

Today I’m remembering a lovely lady and incredibly talented singer/songwriter. Her name is Beldina Odenyo and I heard yesterday that she has tragically died at the age of 31.

Listen here to Beldina creating her magic at the last Kintyre Songwriters Festival before lockdown (video poor, but the sound is wonderful). And here is an article in memory of her in The Scotsman .

I first heard Beldina play at the Kintyre Songwriters Festival. She was amazing from the very first time, and she only got better. We were also privileged to have her play at a Homesong here in Campbeltown. Again, wonderful, as she shared the gig with her partner Lewis Semple. In fact she features visually at that gig on the Homesong video which we made to spread the idea of music in homes.

We had talked a while ago about doing a Homesong “swap” in which I would play at her place and she and Lewis would play again here. Sadly that never happened. Recently her creative career involving music and theatre has been taking off in Scotland, to much well deserved acclaim.

It’s just very sad, heart breaking news, and hard to listen to her beautiful voice and songs at the moment, even though I only knew her a little. My deepest sympathy to her close family and friends.

Rest in peace Bella.

Your Apple Tree

It often happens. Those of us who have reached a Grandaddy sort of age are far more inclined to think that the world will stay roughly as we’ve known it to be. Or maybe we do know that the world will change, but a combination of nostalgia and wishful thinking cause us to fight against that happening.

It’s possible that a future generation of humans will see physical contact with other human beings as un-necessary. The evidence of our own eyes has to suggest something like that is at least possible.

The internet, virtual reality, and artificial intelligence, our own innate need to belong, and the marketing needs of big corporations are perhaps already sending things in that direction.

So maybe Homesongs, like Vegetable Allotments, Bingo, and Countdown are just an old persons wax candle flickering in the window at the onset of a neon revolution.

I always think it’s wise to consider all the possibilities.

But future possibilities don’t necessarily change the present need.

And sometimes you’ve still got to plant your apple tree.

42? True.

In “Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy” by Douglas Adams, a supercomputer called Deep Thought gets asked to find the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything.

After many years of processing its own vast data banks, all the bigwigs and scientists gather round Deep Thought as it prepares to reveal the truth.

Which, it turns out, is - “42”. LOL.

Truth is undoubtedly a thing. But it’s hard to come by and it can be a slippery eel even when we do manage to get our hands on some. I’m trying to remember that truth when ever I push a song, or a blog, or anything remotely creative out into the world.

It takes a certain amount of confidence to create anything. And to let other people see it. Young children have oodles of that confidence as they plunge recklessly into the world trying to find out stuff. What works. What doesn’t. They don’t question the value of what they do, in the way that we as adults do. They just get on and do it.

Life and its experiences bring a certain amount of humility regarding our endeavours of course. Our creations fail. Most of them do. And sadly, many of us lose our creative instinct because of that. The failures and disappointments, fed by unrealistic expectations, cause us to give up.

But we can get up again. Our creativity can be reignited. It can be nurtured. And then, like little children, we can carry on with the experimenting. We learn once more to simply enjoy the journey - to find out what is true.

Sing Something Simple

To plug in or not to plug in…that is the question I often get asked by performers when they play at a Homesong. And I try and encourage unplugged, because for me that is what Homesong is about.

But a lot of performers prefer to have some amplification - “I just like a little bit of reverb”. And that’s fine too.

There is no doubt that electricity, in all its many manifestations, can do tremendous things to the way we hear sound. It has led to amplification and sound engineering possibilities that, handled well, can dance with our brain cells in such a way that we experience moments of enlightened ecstasy.

When I record, I am tremendously lucky to work with a guy who really knows how to manipulate sound. He’s called Sam Hales. Honestly, he’s taught himself the kind of rocket science level sound engineering skills, that most of us only mange to dip our little toes into. At best. I’m in awe as I watch him work. And in working with him I’ve come to realise that a musical recording is a whole other modern kind of art form. Different to that of a naked song, alone and un-embellished.


So what if we didn’t have electricity. The internet. What if, God forbid, I didn’t have a Sam.

The answer is, of course, that it is still possible for a non-technical ignoramus like me (or you!) to make beautiful music. I’ve got a voice. The instrument that humans have had for a few hundred thousand years. I’ve got a guitar. Acoustic instruments have been around since not long after we started singing.

At the end of the day we are all really just primitive creatures who ended up aiming for the stars. We’ve made incredible advances. But all is not lost if we get stuck down here, on little old Planet Earth, with only our primitive tools and no Sam to help.

Thankfully, we don’t have that dilemma. When it comes to sound we can have our cake and eat it. Have to listen to what Sam gets up to when I Sing Something Simple

A Damp Squib

I heard one bang on Bonfire Night. And the rain is pouring down.

Sometimes the show gets cancelled. Or it’s a disappointment. We’ve all had those experiences. That’s what Tomorrows were invented for. And that’s where Selective Memory also plays a useful function.

You never forget some firework displays

And Tomorrow might just be one of those.

Collaborating With The Enemy

To those of us who write songs alone the idea of cosying up with somebody else to…collaborate… can be terrifying and intimidating.

Anyway, isn’t collaborating something that traitors do?

I’m stubborn when it comes to my songwriting, and those collaborations are undoubtedly a threat to the “purity” of my own musical vision. My way of doing things. I’d rather go undercover, alone, hidden away in a dark room, with a glass of something red, quietly listening in on all those voices of the enemy in my head, trying to decipher what they might mean, and if they’re a threat to western civilisation.

Sorry, losing myself in a dodgy analogy there. Or possibly going mad.

Which is, perhaps, a good reason for taking the opportunities I do get to make music with other people. Because even us loners can do with a bit of company now and then. It’s good for the soul.

And strange things can happen when two or more people get together to create new music. Unique song babies do get born, that can look a wee bit like both parents.

And often, miraculously, in a good way.

How Much Does It Cost?

I was asked “How much does a Homesong cost?”.

For the performer it costs months, years, decades, perhaps a lifetime. All the time they spend trying to improve their craft and find the songs that move people to tears and to laughter, to reflection and to dancing. And it costs courage and generosity of spirit. It doesn’t cost money….it should make some.

For the host it also costs courage and generosity. The willingness to take the risk to put on an event in their own home. Doing something for yourself, which might not work, can really only disappoint yourself. But when you host an event for the benefit of others the risks increase. Money-wise, a host should get material costs (for instance food provided for the audience or accommodation for the artists) recompensed by a 10 percent take from the Busking Box, which is put out primarily for the benefit of the performer.

For the audience it costs the amount they put in the Busking Box to show their appreciation for the artist. And an evening of their lives when they could be doing something else.

There is always something else of course. Choose wisely! ;-)

Something To Be Missed

Sometimes the best laid plans of mice and men go awry when Covid comes to town. Bit of a surge here in Campbeltown this last week. Which is why I sadly had to cancel the upcoming Homesong at our house.

And now no big pot of curry being made. No heightened anticipation. No wondering anxiously how many people would turn up on the night. No welcoming the performers, sometimes strangers, in this case friends. No waffling an introduction. No sitting down with a smile and a glass of wine as the first song is sung. No proffering the Busking Box at half time and pointing everyone towards the kitchen for a bowl of the aforementioned curry.

No sense of well being, as the warmth and the creative surprises of the music mingle with the wine and a general spirit of friendship, and produce the miraculous inner certainty that, despite everything, Life Is Good.

A Homesong has always been a little bit different from other musical happenings. Something to experience.

And something to be missed.