Walking Up That Hill

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m just about to walk up that hill with my wife. Unlike Kate Bush we’re not planning to run.

Then back for a bacon and egg roll, and a coffee.

It’s a nice habit. And trying to decide whether to do something or not, takes far more energy and time than just doing it, I find.

Once the habit is decided and established (that can still take a lot of energy) I feel a lot freer.

Looking After Yourself

Yesterday I saw a moving video from a Youtuber I follow. Nearly a year ago he had quit his day job to work on his dream job… full time on the youtube channel that he’d created, talking about camping in the wilds and all things related.

But it hadn’t quite worked out, even though it paid him a wage. He had suffered some mental health issues as he had allowed himself to get sucked down the rabbit hole of social media, and the Chasing The Numbers game.
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I believe he did the right thing by talking about it openly and honestly in the video I watched. And he planned to continue with his channel, but to learn from his mistakes.

But it made me think, once again, that there is a lot to be said for keeping our creative outlets as a hobby. At the very least any attempt to make the leap and turn our favourite pastimes into a profession should not be taken lightly.

These aren’t easy decisions to be made for creative people, and it is an issue that can keep cropping up when we start measuring our “success” in terms of money and recognition.

We need outlets for our art that don’t make those two things the main priority.

Another Ticked Off The List

Well, I don’t like to promise something, as I did yesterday, and then not to do it. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy the process of songwriting. Has to be said that I started off writing one thing. And then it naturally became a lot more euphemistic. So I ran with that. This one already feels like a keeper. I’ve got a bouncing tune too, but for now, here’s the lyric of…

My Song To The Tick

You sit on a blade of grass 
Waiting for the moment
When I walk  right past
My legs are the attraction
And you reach out and grasp
A little interaction
With my hairy shins
Oh where have you been
It’s always me you pick
This is my song to the tick
My song to the tick

And now you wander round
Trying to get a feel of me
Coz when you’ve found
That little place above my knee
Inside my thigh
Oh everyone can see
You’re such a patient thing
And where have you been
It’s always me you pick
This is my song to the tick
My song to the tick

Can anybody save me
From my misery?
It’s always me she picks
Always me she picks
Hear my song to the tick
Song to the tick

Now I know you’re after my blood
You’re waiting for the moment
And I’d stop you if I could
But I’m happily oblivious
You’re up to know good
It should be bloody obvious
On my inner thigh
Oh why, why, why
It’s always me you pick
My song to the tick
My song to the tick

Can’t anybody save me
From my misery?
It’s always me she picks
Always me she picks
Hear my song to the tick
Song to the tick

Now the deed is done
She’s buried in my groin
And there’s nowhere I can run
I begin to moan
When it begins to itch
Coz she has found her home
Oh what a……itch
Please make it quick
Why always me you pick?
This is my song to the tick
My song to the tick

And can  anybody save me
From my misery?
It’s always me she picks
Always me she picks
Can’t  anybody save me
From my misery
It’s always me she picks
Always me she picks

Hear my song to the tick
My song to the tick
My song to the tick
My song to the tick
My song to the tick

Song To The Tick?

Why do Ticks exist? It’s a question that I often ask myself at this time of year. They are small wee buggers, and hard to find on your body after a walk. I inevitably don’t find ‘em all, and I get bites, which can lead to Lymes Disease, a potentially very serious illness. I did get it the one time, but fortunately it was caught early enough for a course of antibiotics to see it off.

There are all sorts of animals that bring misery to others.

In fact we manage it well enough ourselves a lot of the time.

And there isn’t an answer to the “Why?” question really, except “That’s Life”. It brings joy and wonder. It brings challenges and irritations.

And it’s probably time for a Song To The Tick.

I’m up for the challenge. I think.

Off My Chest

Warning: This one is a “getting some things off my chest” blog.

In hosting music gigs in my own home and then trying to spread the idea of other people doing likewise I have somehow, perhaps inevitably, persuaded other folk to see me as a music “Promoter”.

Music Promoter is a very specific and important role, which helps to keep the whole touring phenomenon up and running. Some people do it for love and some for money. It basically involves making sure that musicians and audience find each other. Although a lot of musicians end up doing that work themselves these days.

Because I have been trying to establish local networks of Home gigs I have undoubtedly taken on this kind of role locally. My hope all along, was that others would see it happening, and run with the idea themselves. I’m not really a manager or organiser. But I’ve certainly had to do that sort of work.

The hope behind the hope though, was that I would find a way of being able to tour and play my own songs at this imagined wider network of Homesong venues. I wanted to find and inspire the people who really did love the idea of “promoting” a small gig in their homes. I was very up for the possibility of doing myself out of a job in that respect.

Though I’m proud of what has been built, I’m certainly still in the job. And the truth is I feel a bit stuck between a rock and a hard place right now in terms of a way forward. If I carry on taking and embracing opportunities to continue being a “promoter” here in Kintyre I would be able to continue promoting the idea of Homesong….but then the creativity and drive to write and create my own music inevitably suffers.

I’m writing this because another, potentially significant, request for acting as local Promoter has come up, at a time when, in my head, I was actually settled upon giving my own music some more time and energy. In that scenario, I would occasionally still host gigs in my own home, without making it a stick to beat myself with. I would enjoy that. But I also thought I could try to find Home gigs to play at myself, and spread the message in that way.

A Homesong friend, Norman Lamont, asked me in a recent conversation which was more important to me…my own music or the Homesong vision.

I couldn’t really separate them then. And I still can’t.

I like to write and create. I love to write songs and to write about the joy of gigs on a small grass roots level in homes. Increasingly I am enjoying performing and looking for more opportunities to do so. If I’m honest though, I don’t really want to be tied down to being an organiser and promoter.

Inevitably there are no easy answers to any of this. Nothing worth doing ever falls in to place just like that.

It helps to be able to put these words down on paper though.

And maybe a little light will break through soon.

Looking For……..?

Here’s a David Bowie song I’d never heard before.

Looking For Water.

I found the song while I was Looking For Words.

Elusive is not the same as non-existent.

The Journey

What must it feel like to have mastered a skill?

Would you know if you had?

Is it even possible?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. Perhaps nobody does, even though we call some people “masters” because they are clearly much, much better than us at something. Or other.

But do those “masters” really have a sense of mastery? Do they think of themselves as masters?

I suspect that if they have mastered anything it is simply the skill of enjoying, and being fully engaged in, the journey.

Dry The Rain

Yesterday I thought I would dodge the rain showers on the hill. Didn’t take a rain jacket on my walk. Wasn’t worried too much. But it started pouring towards the end of the hill part, and when I got back to the road for the walk home I sheltered under a tree by the pavement for a while, to wait for it to ease off.

Somebody stopped to ask if I wanted a lift into town. I took them up on the offer. And it turned out the fellow who was driving remembered me helping him once, when his car had broken down a few years ago. That’s why he had stopped to offer the lift.

I couldn’t remember giving him help at all. And I don’t believe in some sort of automatic karma that gives certain pay back for acts of kindness.

But it is a reminder that people remember.

Better to be remembered in a positive way, I tend to think. And I’m glad that, on this occasion at least, I was.

Competitively Supportive

There is another Homesong out there on the interweb.

I just thought I would mention it, because it is a really beautifully made website. Nothing at all to do with gigs in homes. It’s all about making nice things for your home. Take a look.

There are also a lot of other Davids out there. It’s amazing how we all usually manage to co-exist without seeing each other as a threat.

Some people would argue that humans are successful because we are successfully competitive. That is part of the story.

But I like to think that the reason that we stand out from every other animal - when we are the best version of ourselves - is that we have learnt to co-operate, support and empathise with others to an incredible degree. At our best we recognise that we’re all in this together.

We stand, or fall, together.

Of course the competitive tendency can also be useful. Perhaps we need to learn to be competitively supportive.

What To Pick?

So many decisions - celluloid, tortex or maybe an exotic material? Shape, profile, thickness, hardness, texture.... it's a wonderful new world of geekdom.

This is the shocking news a friend gave me after my own startling revelation in yesterdays blog that I am starting to learn to play guitar with a pick/plectrum.

Hmm. I didn’t realise what a rabbit hole I had entered. Oh dear. And I try to avoid complex decisions like that.

But what if I only had one pick?

Is that allowed?

What’s the comfortable, practical, economical 5 seat family car of the pick world?

Could you pick for me?

Picking Time

Everything takes time.

Yesterday I picked up a pick. My guitar guru mate, who is a guitar teacher, and also my recording partner, has been banging on about it for a while. I shouldn’t just be able to pick guitar using my present finger style, but I should also be able to use a plectrum.

I was always a bit, meh, about that. Something else to lose. I’m very good at losing stuff. And the time thing. It all takes so much time to learn.

But I heard someone playing something that I liked, and which could only be done with a plectrum. So I’ve decided to learn it. And also surprise my friend, who doesn’t think I listen to anything he says, even though he definitely knows best about these matters.

I hope it doesn’t take too long. So many other things to fit in to the available time. But at least the decision has been made now. I’m committed.

In For A Surprise

Specialise. That’s the word on the street.

When it comes to music it’s very good and helpful to be known for a particular style. It really helps people latch on to your songs if they know what to expect.

I believe this is true, but it is very frustrating for anyone of a creative nature who doesn’t like to get tied down in that way. Or in anyway come to that.

One thing I like about the Homesongs that we’ve held is that mostly people come along NOT knowing what to expect. Unlike most gigs, they don’t attend because they are fans of the artist. They come because it’s a Homesong.

This is quite liberating when you think about it. Every performer gets the chance to creatively win over the audience. They’ve got that opportunity.

And the audience is almost always in for a surprise.

A Wild Fear

I woke early this morning and decided to go for a walk up the hill. It was about 5am. On my way I walk up a road that borders farmland, which in turn borders the hill and the forest. Up ahead there were two roe deer on the pavement, feeding on the verge.

They spotted me and trotted off around the bend ahead. Around the bend ahead I came upon them again. One of them ran off down another road but the other one tried to get through the wire fence, and became stuck.

I’ve had to rescue rams and sheep from wire and brambles more than once before. So, I approached this deer. It was only small, but I’ve never seen such a wild fear and desire to escape this predator, me, as I approached. It made a loud, quite grotesque, scream as the trapped head stayed still while the body and legs were crazily twisting and kicking out. Horrible to witness and to hear.

There was no way I could get near it without causing both the deer and myself damage. It was hard to leave, but I had to, with the intention of returning later when it had calmed down, tired itself out, or managed to escape. Fortunately, when I did return an hour and a half later it was the latter. What a relief.

I have never to my knowledge been the cause of such fear before.

I hope that I never am again.

Swimming In The Rain

You can’t kill a man who’s already dead.

You can’t soak a man who’s already wet.

And when the songwriter’s song has made someone smile…

…you can’t offer them anymore success.

I went swimming in the Mediterranean while it rained, when I was in Spain, with two of my sons. Afterwards a song sprang forth as a celebration of the experience.

My sons laughed with abandon at the unintended innuendo.

And a few days ago I surprised them when I played them this recording. It’s the monthly “Fourth” release for June from yours truly.

The boys were delighted.


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is more than enough.

Springtime In The City?

From Wikipedia:
“On long, dark winter nights it is still the custom in small villages for friends to collect in a house and hold what they call a "ceilidh" (pronounced kay'lee). Young and old are entertained by the reciters of old poems and legendary stories which deal with ancient beliefs, the doings of traditional heroes and heroines, and so on. Some sing old and new songs set to old music or new music composed in the manner of the old.”

— Mackenzie, Donald A., Wonder tales from Scottish myth and legend, 1917, p. 14.[3]

This is what happened in Scotland back in the day.

Times change. The word Ceilidh now refers to a night of a particular kind of Scottish Dancing. Quite formal. Can be fun.

Now there are new words for what a Ceilidh used to be. I choose the word Homesong.

And they are not just for long, dark winter nights. Nor only for small villages.

The Tap Of A Foot

Here’s a great article from another blog on music in the community. I particularly like this:

music to many of us is about or used to be about participation and it was not just about being entertained or sung to, we were not separate from it, we are an integral part of it

Preach it brother. We’ve all got something to bring to the party. This is what every performer should remember…it’s not just about ME.

And it’s also what everybody who is there “to be entertained” could do to remember too. What have I got to bring to this?

Because everybody has got something to bring, where music is concerned. Even if it’s just the tap of a foot.

The Valley Below

Everybody went for a walk on Sunday after the wedding we attended in Italy. The end point, before returning, was one of those high swinging wire bridges. There was a 150 metre drop to the valley below, and it was possibly 100 metres from one side to the other.

Most of us did it. I was one of the ones for whom it was a big challenge. The voices of encouragement didn’t make much difference to that. It was a lonely journey across, focussing on the breathing, and nothing else. And the same on the way back this time having to let go of the wire rope supports for a moment, to pass a few people nonchalantly crossing as though their lives weren’t actually hanging in the balance.

Every fear looks daft to people who don’t have the fear.

But like most fears faced, it felt like a victory afterwards.

And I suspect it will make standing up and playing a song in front of people, seem a whole lot easier too.

Grazie Mille Italia!

I suppose if there is an excuse for missing the daily blog 3 days in a row, then attending the wedding in Italy of my nephew and his Italian bride is quite a good one.

As always with travelling abroad there was plenty of miscommunication leading to hours of hilarious fun. But the main event was a wonderful smorgasbord (or whatever the english/italian word for that is) of celebratory delight. A beautiful cross cultural marriage full of love, laughter and dancing.

The day itself, high in the Dolomite mountains, was very wet and stormy. The Norse gods, the Virgin Mary, The Saints, and Rabbie Burns all smiled down at the moment when rings were exchanged, as a massive peal of thunder rang out. Followed by the church bells.

The eating lasted for ever and the conversations were rich with friendship. In the evening The Italian father of the bride wore a kilt and proffered whisky. The dancing was of course even better as a result of that.

All in all a wonderful day and a special time. And even sitting here waiting for a delayed flight in the Marco Polo airport terminal in Venice (which like any airport anywhere, could in fact be anywhere) I am smiling as I remember the last few days.

Grazie mille Italia! Congratulazioni a Rory e Stefania!

Partying Like An Introvert

Extraversion and Introversion refer to our source of energy. Do we get it from being with people or from being alone?

An introvert can happily spend time in the company of people, partying like a mad thing. Yes we can! But at some point they will need to retire into the shadows to recharge the social batteries.

What that means in practise is that an introvert might turn down your invite to an event which, in theory, they would really enjoy, because of that depleted ability to socialise.

Introverts still need community though (just like extraverts need time alone) and they value it. But we experience it differently.

As an introvert, promoting music in the community, I don’t necessarily feel in the mood for the very thing I’m trying to promote.

But I recognise its importance, over and above my changing moods.

Becoming Aware

I could have written this myself.

“As a lifelong acoustic musician, I love having the chance to play music in such an intimate setting with minimal or no amplification, and I’ve also had wonderful experiences hosting house concerts with some of my favorite songwriters”

But I didn’t. This is a quote from Jeffrey Pepper Rogers, a songwriter I hadn’t heard of, who also happens to be quite a prolific writer on songwriting and guitar playing, and is the founding editor of Acoustic Guitar magazine.

I’m really quite unaware of so very much. Not blissfully so.

It’s not a good look to be ignorant about things that you really should know about.

I’m trying to make up for that.