Fluency

I’m in the Netherlands speaking mainly Dutch, a language at which I have worked very hard to become fluent in.

But I’m not fluent. Not by a long stretch.

That is, I’m not fluent if I measure fluency based on my comfort levels in English.

Then again, my comfort levels in English won’t allow me to say exactly what I’m wanting to say, in a blog like this, for instance, without batting words back and forth until they start to feel like something that works. And , even then, I often have to settle for: “in the ballpark”.

If I measure my ability in English in that way, I’m not fluent in my mother tongue either.

Which begs the question - will we ever get there?

And the answer as always is that we better make damn sure to enjoy the journey. Because the destination we think we’re heading for, might actually be unreachable.

Do The Numbers Matter?

I often say they don’t. But am I just kidding myself?

Well, sometimes I’m trying to kid myself.  By using words to develop a state of mind in which the numbers (the digits that give us a clue as to how many people are paying attention to whatever it is we are doing) don’t affect my emotional state.

Probably the more accurate reality is that the numbers shouldn’t matter: even if they are a sign that we are doing something right, they aren’t the only sign, and they can be misleading.

But sometimes it feels like they do.

Great. I hope that’s cleared that up. 

It’s Not Personal

I’m interested in a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to sign up.

Just like everybody else.

Like everybody else, I dip and dive into stuff, as my curiosity leads.
And just like everybody else, I commit to something if I’m really hooked. Even then, I often un-commit at a later date.

We all do. And if we’re putting anything Out There, people will do it to us.

It’s not personal.

Meteorological Fortune Tellers

Predicting the future? Try telling a weather forecaster that it ain’t possible. They keep coming back for more. And we keep coming back to them.

Please tell me it’s going to be nice weather on the hols. And if not, please tell me that it’s even worse back home.

So many variables to be accounted for though. But modern computer technology, centuries of accumulated knowledge, and the odd glance out of the window seems to do the job. Mostly those Meteorological Fortune Tellers are in the ballpark.

Of course the weather is what it is: we can’t intentionally change it. Well, not yet anyway. And for most of our needs, holiday makers, songwriters and the rest, it doesn’t really matter a whole lot, in the wider scheme of things.

Different for a farmer. Potential life and death for a fisherman. And for a refugee.

For them, imagining a better future isn’t enough. A bit more certainty would really help.

And as I sit here looking out the window at the rain clouds, in our little holiday cabin in the Netherlands, I can let that perspective change my own particular outlook.

A Better Direction

I’ve noticed, throughout my life, that there is sometimes a disparity between my words and my actions. This is an uncomfortable thought, because it means that I am sometimes a hypocrite.

Which is a problem that the Strong And Silent type never has.

It’s easy to be true to your word if you don’t use any.

Those of us who use words a lot, do so, oftentimes, to imagine alternative futures. This is a good thing, because we are capable of imagining Better.

But the future can never be predicted with full and knowing accuracy. With truth. It can only ever be aimed at. It can only ever be imagined.

And the only thing that can be completely true and real is the step we are taking right now. In one sense the words, any words, can be disregarded.

We are what we do. Right now.

But we should not give up on words, even if they let us down or turn us into hypocrites. We should carry on using them to imagine ourselves doing it better.

And then perhaps our next step can take us in a better direction.

Until Midnight

If late is better than never, is early better than on time? Or worse?

I’m asking myself these questions because, for the first time since 2012 I didn’t manage to send my monthly Fee Comes Fourth song to my mailing list on the fourth of the month.

This month it was sent early. On the third of April. It was a mistake. Oops! And after a streak of One Hundred and Eighteen, I’ve failed.

Haven’t I?

Well, of course not. We don’t need to be a slave to these little targets we set ourselves. They are only markers, not something that the people who are wanting to hear our songs (or whatever it is that we have promised to do) are particularly bothered about.

Because though the marker I made missed its mark very slightly, nothing has changed about the commitment or even the reliability that I’ve been trying to achieve.

For almost 10 years I have released a song every month. That’s the important part.

And, as I speak, the plan is to continue to do so indefinitely.

Until Midnight, in fact.

Do The Right Thing

I’m on a Stena Sealink ferry crossing.

Apparently it’s possible to run a ferry company without throwing hundreds of people overboard.

And in the music business, it is said that you should be nice on the way up, because you’ll be seeing the same people on the way back down.

But being nice, being kind, to our fellow humans, should be its own justification. Putting people at ease, raising a smile, giving hope, doing what we promised…it shouldn’t need a commercial or self preservation imperative.

We can choose to do the right thing, even if others sadly don’t.

A Little Bit Braver

I was listening to two shows featuring The 80’s and 90’s while travelling last night. We like categorising our music.

Of course when we listen at the time, we don’t always hear the changes occurring. But looking back, we can usually spot the moments when music starts to head in a particular direction. And that is usually because of artists who swam against the flow in some way or other.

Dylan sang about everything and anything, was poetic, obtuse, and controversial, and he didn’t keep it to 3 minutes. Suddenly Love and Sex didn’t have to be the only topics of conversation in pop.

The Sex Pistols and other punk bands brought an “anybody can do this” ethos to music. It wasn’t just for the trained musos and the naturally gifted singers. Attitude, energy and a short, sharp shockwave of sound could sound fantastic.

Just two examples that I’m more familiar with, but you get the drift.

Standing out from the crowd is brave. And it doesn’t often lead to success. But even artists and bands that did their own thing, and didn’t “make it”, often had an influence on other successful artists. Something to take pride from in itself.

Sticking out from the crowd is something we often admire, but also often avoid, when it comes to our own endeavours. I know that’s been true for me.

It doesn’t hurt to try and be a little bit braver sometimes.

Already Wet

Swimming in the rain, coz I’m already wet…

Lots of little raindrops are easier to handle than a sudden dunking. And eventually you’re soaked to the skin.

It’s not such a big deal to dive into the big, scary ocean now.

That’s the theory anyway.

It Won’t Go Smoothly

It’s not the work that you were expecting to be hard, that drains the energy.

It’s the jobs you were expecting to be easy, but which turn out to take twice as long as you thought they would.

Which begs the question…are the pessimists on to something?Should we be lowering our expectations as a matter of course.

I’m not sure. I think we should still aim as high as we think we can possibly reach if everything would run smoothly. Don’t want to sell ourselves short when it comes to the dreaming part.

But at the same time we should give ourselves a break, stop being surprised, factor it in….things won’t run smoothly.

Life teaches us all of that of course, but we aren’t always paying attention. And then we become cynical and stop dreaming. And, or, we let the problems that inevitably occur make us bitter.

Everybody’s got their own path. But we’re all facing a version of that dilemma to work through if we want to have a shot at this.

Easier To Hide

I’ve been reluctant to start thinking about hosting live Homesong gigs again, because of the way Covid has been, and still is, affecting things. Like people’s behaviour. Including mine.

But now I am thinking about it.

Thinking is risky, because it can, and often does, lead to action.

Sometimes it’s easier to hide.

Enjoy It While You Can

The weather has been delightful.

But rumours suggest that it won’t last long.

So, it’s time to make moonshine while the hay is sunny.

I think that’s how the saying goes, isn’t it.

Love, Music, And Friendship

I was excited to hear that the Kintyre Songwriter’s Festival is going to be back on in Campbeltown this summer. For the first time in three years.

KSF is the event where I first started to feel like I could perhaps wing it as a performer, and also the place where I discovered that my songs could be appreciated. It’s my musical home.

I soon realised, however, that I won’t be able to play it, because I’ll be attending a wedding in another part of the country that weekend.

There’s a certain sadness that I can’t do both, obviously.

But love and friendship trumps even my love of local music in the community.

And that’s the way it should be.

Miss You (When You Go)?

Talking about my local woods, as I was yesterday, I bumped into a fella on the hill there a week ago. He gave me some news, which I desperately hope is nothing more than local gossip.

According to Bob, Scottish Woodlands are going to be chopping down all those trees that have kept me sane, and provided countless hours of wonderful relaxation, over this last couple of years in particular. And then they are just giving up responsibility for them.

I don’t know how true this is, and I need to find out. But I have come to realise why people do some seemingly crazy things. Like chaining themselves to trees, for instance.

It’s the way I feel right now about the forest on Ben Ghuilean. Because some things become a part of us.

Even the possibility of that happening makes me feel sad. This is a fittingly sad song I wrote with a friend called Dave Harris, and one which I hope, I really hope, I’m not going to be singing in my own special happy place.

A Cover Song

It was Springtime in the woods on my walk t’other day. It felt like Spring. Sun was shining. The birds were in full voice. Lovely.

I ended up chatting with a Great Tit.

No! Don’t go there!

But really, I did. I heard one calling nearby and, as bird song goes, it was fairly easy to replicate. So we ended up chatting. He or she was definitely answering me back. I wasn’t imagining things.

Quite proud really.

I’m not usually very good at singing covers.

Making A Song And A Dance

Gimmick: a trick or device intended to attract attention, publicity, or trade

I’m as a sniffy about the use of gimmicks as the next Authentic Songwriter. I want my precious creation to be the thing that attracts the attention. I don’t want to trick people into listening to it.

Do I?

In fact our art won’t generally attract any interest at all if it doesn’t itself contain gimmicks.

Who heard of a joke without a punchline.

Or a song without a hook.

When making our thing, we intentionally try to trick people into continuing to listen. Whatever tactics we use, we’re certainly not using them with the intention of encouraging folk to lose interest.

Which has made me think that perhaps we shouldn’t look down on attempts to attract interest and seek attention through gimmicks, in order to get people to pay attention to Our Thing in the first place.

Perhaps we should make more of a song and a dance, about our song. Or dance.

How far we go with that idea, is a personal issue of course. And if the gimmick becomes bigger than whatever it is attempting to attract attention to, then things have probably gone too far. But at the end of the day, we’re all advertising something.

We’re not trying to hide it from view.

The Special One

The guy or gal who is always there in the audience is so easy to take for granted.

And when he or she is the only one there, it is easy to see them as a symbol of your own failure.

In reality they should be the most appreciated and honoured.

And in reality it is amazing that somebody, even one, is prepared to commit their precious time to watching you do your thing on a regular basis.

They are special.

(Thank you Steve. You’re a legend!)

Rule Breakers

Breaking the rules.

It’s usually frowned upon. For good reason.

It’s how we hold it all together.

Society. Families. Organisations.

And the things we make. From a rocket ship to a song.

But sometimes the world (your neighbour, your community, your song) is crying out for the rules to be broken.

Something fresh is needed. Occasionally it’s a matter of life and death.

It’s a tricky one though, because when you break that rule, you may still be frowned upon. And you might get it wrong. You could break the wrong rule at the wrong time.

But sometimes. Sometimes you and the world will experience a breakthrough. Something that makes life better.

My own suspicion is that we need more brave people, not less, of the kind who will take a risk, and at least consider breaking the rules on occasion.

We Don’t Decide

There are plenty of songs, we’ve all heard them, that sound like they should have been hits. They should have been popular. They should have been played on the radio regularly. Just like the ones that we are all familiar with.

But they aren’t.

There are of course reasons, most if not all of which have nothing to do with the song itself. But it’s not always helpful to go looking for those reasons.

Because we don’t decide.

And so, because most of those reasons are out of our hands, we simply carry on making our songs. It turns out that getting a hit isn’t the only way to find and give pleasure from that process.

Parental Responsibilities

I record a song a month, and do my recording with my long time co-producer, Sam Hales. He is a superb musician, a brilliant sound engineer, and a fantastic arranger. It’s like having my own band and studio team in one person.

We work together most Thursday mornings, but of course sometimes it’s not possible. I wasn’t around for a week and half, and I’m always happy on those occasions to give Sam free rein, in order to keep up with our deadline. I couldn’t make the song recordings without him, but he doesn’t need me sitting there.

Except that he does really. Because it’s my song, and that makes me the master of its destiny. We got back together yesterday, and I didn’t really like the direction he was taking the song we’d started before I’d left. It happens.

As well as his other gifts, Sam is very pragmatic and flexible, and in one session we managed to get it back on course. My course, of course.

Some songwriters refer to their song creations as “their children”.

It is a bit like that sometimes.