Smile At A Stranger
Smile at a stranger and they might:
Ask for directions
Frown
Smile right back
Walk on by
Start chatting about the weather
Become a friend
Or… not, in fact, be a stranger. Just somebody you haven’t seen for a while in the days when you had a good memory.
Everything Zen?
I’m in the middle of a water fast (no food for a period of time, only water). I find that lots of good things happen when I do that, but there is also a certain amount of tiredness, as the body gets busy carrying out repair work.
Weirdly, after being excited, as mentioned in a previous post, about being back with my guitar after our trip away, I haven’t had much inclination to write songs, or even sing along with my old tunes during this period. Almost unheard of.
Maybe I needed a fast from that too.
But I’m relaxed about it all.
Seasons come and go, and the things that we desperately want to do or change, change. Even if only for a while. These days I’m a lot happier to watch till the good inclinations return, or wait till the bad moods drift away.
Sometimes, even with the matters we are responsible for, we simply need, responsibly, to let go.
Ooh, look at me, all Zen like.
But it’s probably the only way to be, when so much else out there is looking very Un-Zen. A theme well addressed in this song by Bush.
Did I Do That?
We underestimate our achievements.
Problem is that most of what we do goes unrecorded and our memories aren’t accessible like a hard drive is.
I’m lucky, as some one who writes words, and songs, that there is often a record of the things I made. But then is there always the addictive attraction of moving onto the next thing, leaving little time to look back and reflect.
I accidentally came across some longer articles I had written in the past and, because of the passage of time, was able to read them as A Reader, and not as The Writer. I was honestly, if you’ll forgive me, quite impressed.
“Did I do that?”
Anyway, it’s easy to be hard on ourselves instead of taking pleasure in what we do or make.
So give yourself a pat on the back sometimes.
And here is something I also had chance to look back on with enjoyable pride. This time with the added pleasure that it was done with friends, Gary Carey and Murray Webster.
Recorded on the day we wrote it. Three minutes of fun fresh from the oven.
What Have I Got To Do?
Four weeks ago, just a couple of days before the wedding of my son and bride to be, I managed to upset them both in the middle of a text conversation we were having. It wasn’t intentional, and it was very much one of those things which could have been sorted out straight away if we’d been in the room together.
But they were in Aberdeen and I was in Campbeltown. It’s sometimes hard to communicate via the written word, when anybody’s personal feelings are involved.
I was devastated that I had managed to be the cause of upset, almost on the eve of the most important day of their lives so far. I hardly slept that night. And I knew that I had to make it right.
Next morning I rang up to say sorry to them both. It’s good to do that even when there has been no harm intended. And we talked and cried. And then everything was so much better.
As a result of our reconciling chat, there was not the slightest hint of a cloud hanging over the wedding. And the following weeks have been a great time of being together, and strengthening our relationships further.
So the answer I’m going to give, Elton, to the question “What I have got to do, when sorry seems to be the hardest word?” is quite simple really.
Say sorry.
(A beautiful performance of that song in the link, btw).
Winchester Cathedral
I have an aversion to repeating myself.
But it’s unavoidable in a daily blog like this. With a memory like mine.
And in most kinds of song, it’s really a part of the deal. The ones that stick in our heads usually have one or more hooky musical phrases on repeat. And a chorus lyric that does the same.
It doesn’t take much really. For instance, I just came across Winchester Cathedral. I didn’t recognise the title. But the tune was immediately recognisable. Not a lot to do it, but it’s hooky, appealing and very memorable.
I suspect I’ve only heard the song two or three times in my life.
But the repeated melody line is, it seems, indelibly ingrained upon my memory.
And now it’s on repeat in my heid.
ps. There is lovely quirky lyrical idea too. The lyric to this one doesn’t in fact repeat. It just comes and goes, telling a familiar story in the fewest words, then says “see ya”.
Do wah diddy
Confucius say: don’t discuss religion or politics in a sauna.
When I was losing my religion, the song of the same name by R.E.M. meant a lot to me. It seemed to describe where I was coming from.
Do you know what I mean, man?
Anyway, it turned out that Michael Stipe was really not speaking about religion. But the song itself remains wonderful partly because it can have such a malleable meaning for the listener. It can be anything you want it to be.
In the song it undoubtedly helps that the music is so magically hooky. But the music hangs on the lyric. And whether they be crystal clear, opaque, or trite….it doesn’t matter which…it ain’t a song without the words. It wouldn’t have the potential to become so engraved upon our memories.
Every song needs, at the very least, some “do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”!
Wild Elephants
On average one hundred people a year are killed by elephants in Sri Lanka. Which is the kind of information that is usually merely a statistic for those of us who live in the British Isles, where all potentially dangerous animals were killed off a long time ago.
I’ve always found it hard to imagine what it must be like to have to tread carefully when going for a walk.
Only a week ago we were lucky enough to see wild elephants close up from the relative safety of a reinforced jeep, driven by a knowledgeable driver. Never-the-less, the two ladies in the back, who had grown up in the country, were visibly and audibly frightened when a bull among the group that were feeding only twenty metres away, began walking purposefully towards us. The driver quickly started the engine and moved to a safer distance.
At the time I hadn’t felt at all perturbed. But a couple of days later I met a man who had seen his uncle killed in the last year, while he watched helpless from only thirty metres way. They get in the mood apparently, especially when it’s very hot, and seem to attack for no other reason than that. The man I spoke to couldn’t do a thing, apart from aim a few futile stones, as the animal threw his uncle around and then crushed his head. Horrific.
It feels like I’ve lived a cosseted existence. Last night in a half asleep state my imagination was taking me into fatal encounters with elephants, and it wasn’t fun. Fortunately for me it was all taking place in my mind.
But I’ve developed a new respect, and a certain amount of cautionary fear, for a world of wildness which previously I had only experienced courtesy of David Attenborough.
Something Precious
It was a sweet moment when I got back, and was able to hold her again. Her curves, missed so badly while I was away, felt so right against my body. I stroked her neck. And when my fingers plucked and strummed, as though for the first time, the sounds she made were like honeycomb, fresh from the hive. I couldn’t stop myself from singing out loud along with her.
Yes. It’s great to be together again with something very precious.
My guitar, of course.
The Final Push
Songs can be written on sight. A wee observation, a musical or lyrical hook, or a particular mood, spark me into action. Wham, bam thank you mam!
But most of the songs of my own that resonate the deepest with myself and, I think, with others, tend to be more like a pregnancy - of which, admittedly, I only know about from my seat on the sidelines.
Those songs are the ones, seeded by some more profound emotion or experience, which wait patiently for a period of time, unseen in my subconscious, part of my daily reflections, alive, but unknown. And then, with a certain inevitability, at the right time, they start moving inside me, until finally - the actual writing of the song - is the final push leading them to their first gulp of oxygen in the light of day.
Maybe that sounds a little bit grandiose. But that’s how it feels to me.
And I am quite sure, as our time in Sri Lanka comes to an end, that one or two of those second kind of songs have been conceived here.
Personally, I can’t wait to hear them.
Monkey Business
Our guide to the ruins of the impressive old Kingdom of Polonnaruwa had already demonstrated how quick the monkeys were to spot the possibility of a quick steal.
As we visited palaces, hospitals, and temples that had been discovered in what had once been impenetrable forest, we were quite amazed - as anyone has to be when looking at structures and societies that had been built all over the world during times when cranes, planes and mechanical automation were not even a pipe dream.
At the Buddhist temples, as required, we took took off our shoes and hats before entering. Sometimes we had to go bare foot over burning rock and sand and on a couple of blessed occasions the relief of some cool dark interiors.
As I exited from one of the latter I was informed by my family that a monkey had stolen my shoe. Oh dear. But, hey I like going bare foot as you know. And anyway, it didn’t take more than a few seconds to remember that I had another pair with me on the trip, so no great harm done. It was just a shoe. My wife, far more practical than me, later told me that her first reaction was a plan to lure the monkey down, with food and try to do a swap deal.
Anyway…none of this turned out to be necessary. Our guide laughed delightedly as he revealed my shoe in his possession. It had indeed very much been monkey business - but only of the practical joke variety.
LOL, as they say.
Listening To The Enemy
A while ago I wrote, in conjunction, with my friend Les Oman, an album that was our response of shocked confusion to world events. It is called Too Much Of Everything, although it could probably have been called WTF Is Going On Out There?
The trigger for the songwriting happened to be the inauguration of Donald Trump as US president. I can’t speak for Les, but like many people I react instinctively and emotionally to people. And for me Trump appeared to manifest the polar opposite of some of the qualities that I admire the most. Qualities like kindness, honesty, humility, and integrity.
Nothing has changed my view on that. But at the same time I’m very aware of our dangerous and increasing tendency to hunker down in the security of our own little tribal villages, in homes where only Local People, the ones who share our own particular point of view, are dwelling.
The aforementioned album, and some of the newsletters that I sent out with songs from the album led, at one point, to me getting a very angry response from an American fan, who up until then had been very kind and positive about my music.
I hate conflict, having been bullied at school. And I think perhaps one of my greatest subconscious motivations in life is to find a way to avoid it.
But we can’t avoid it, or at least we can’t address it adequately, without facing it head on.
All of which is the sort of thing that prompted me to watch this today.
Not a short watch, it’s an interview with someone, a particular kind of someone, who people like me don’t usually have much time for. And the interviewer is very “Marmite” too. But it is interesting, and informative, and it didn’t cause me to run a mile despite my own instinctive politics. There are things in it I agree with. There are also many things which I don’t know enough about to properly comment upon. And there are things that I find inconsistent or contradictory.
I’m not offering it up for any purpose, other than to say, quite simply, that listening to “The Enemy” is really quite an important part of our growth as humans and creative beings.
Those of us who are songwriters, or artists of any kind, should probably be more prepared to grasp that particular nettle if we want to have a voice and make good art.
And now I’ve really put myself in the mood to write a frivolous pop song.
Political World
When everything is going nicely for us, it’s very easy to ignore Politics.
I’ve been interested in the subject, to a varying extent, most of my life, but it has never been a matter of life or death to me. It’s never been something that very much affects me personally in fact.
And it still doesn’t. The mental health issues I was dealing with for a number of years, and occasionally still do, which though very real, were far more influenced by my own brain patterns, upbringing and personal relationships, than by anything happening in a political framework.
At the moment though, it seems that Politics, on a world wide scale, is gradually moving closer to home, in a not dissimilar way to the lead up to the Second World war last century. Not that that kind of war is imminent. But there seem to be a lot of factors - like the environment and the lack of care we have taken for it; like the channelling of money and power into fewer, and very specific hands; like the way in which race and sexuality issues are playing out in an uglier way again, when we might have thought they were on the way to being sorted; and like the divisive angry tribalism that seems to be growing, fuelled by mainstream and online media - which, when added all together, can look very much like a gathering storm. (And I would sadly acknowledge that for some folk that storm has already broken. I’ve been one of the lucky ones).
It all feels a little scary. Even from my fairly safe vantage point.
And I’m asking a question to myself.
What can I do? Or rather, what can I do better, because I have always wanted, and usually tried, to do something.
I don’t ask this out of a sense of false guilt, even though that kind of guilt is very much a part of my own mental heritage. I ask, because I don’t want to be a passive spectator.
Because doing a small something, is better than doing a big nothing.
And I don’t want to wait until the storm breaks over my own home either. Whether we like it or not, we are all living in a very political world right now.
The Space Between Us
It’s hot out there. And by “there” I mean out here. My here. Which of course will always be different to some degree, on Celcius or any other scale of choice, from your here.
Sometimes my here will be a long way away from your here.
But near or far, there is always some distance to travel in order for us to touch each other. Even when we do manage to touch, there will always be some space between us.
And if those sound, even more than usual, like words thrown together in a feverish manner…
…well, as I said, it’s hot out there.
Live At The Perahera
Two nights ago my senses were overwhelmed in a way I’ve never experienced before. The Kandy Esala Perahera is not something that can be captured on video. I tried Youtube for a link, and rediscovered the truth that for somethings, you just had to be there.
And we were there along with many thousands. Walking to the Perahera was part of the experience, as on the way we saw big monitor lizards lurking and swimming very close by, while flying foxes hung and flew from the trees above us.
The bare essentials of the event itself involved a three hour long procession of dancing and drummers, music and elephants, fragrances, light, colour, fire, and acrobatics…all happening on a moonlit night by the banks of beautiful Lake Kandy.
That will give you a picture of course. But it feels VERY ineffectual.
Never the less, you may want to know about the origins of this thing that I can’t describe. Well, it has somehow evolved from rituals that began as long ago as the 3rd century BC. So quite old then. And those rituals and the modern day procession have got something to with a relic of the tooth of the Buddha.
Don’t ask an agnostic atheist for the full run down. But it was clear that this information, as with many religious beliefs, holds important meaning for the believers themselves.
Personally, I just want to pay homage to the exotic glory of Life, which gives birth to it all. There are undoubtedly some underlying and amazing truths out there, some that we know, some to be discovered. And we have always had a need to put our own meanings upon them.
But regardless of all of our weird and wonderful methods of interpreting life, and the various degrees of pleasure and pain we experience during our time here, what an opportunity it is to live, and how indulged that Life can occasionally make us feel.
Sri Lanka is having that effect on me.
When Starlight Comes To Stay
A Sri Lankan wedding celebration is a thing to behold.
Also, if possible, be the bride groom at the wedding, not the bride. Wow, she has to go through a lot. Mind you, the results are amazing. My new daughter-in-law was a picture of beauty.
And WHAT an entrance we all got with dancing drummers and a lovely procession to the wedding hall.
Every one, all 200 of them, were very welcoming. And we smiled, and talked, and laughed, and misunderstood, and hugged, and ate, and danced the day away.
In addition I sang my song to the happy couple.
“When Starlight Come To Stay” was inspired by my Daughter-in-laws name. Tharushi means “Star” in Sinhalese. And I was accompanied by a wonderful Sri Lankan wedding band. Honestly they were brilliant.
All in all a wonderful occasion. Complete knackered afterwards!
I would highly recommend, if you, or your offspring, or somebody you know should happen to get hooked up with a Sri Lanka person, that you don’t miss the chance to experience it.
5+ Stars from me on the Trip Advisor review.
The Wrong News
For a long while I’ve not been a fan of The News. I hardly watch it these days. It gives a twisted version of the truth.
A number of years ago we were going to visit good friends in Iran. At the time on The “News”, the only perception of Iran came from regular images of black cloaked crowds shouting “Death to the West”. Or words to that effect. Of course people told us not to go. But we trusted our friends, and had a wonderful time, wherever we went in the country.
Which is not to say, of course, that there are not serious issues to be addressed in Iran. As there are in most countries, including ours. But, and it is a BIG BUT, in most countries, and in most places, most people are, at the very least, accommodating. And more often than not, incredibly friendly and welcoming.
We are now in Sri Lanka with the family of our new daughter-in-law. Again, because of The “News” some people were questioning our decision to go. Again, we trusted our friends.
The truth is that, despite the bad economic situation, and the completely understandable protests, we are experiencing a wonderful time, in a country that feels completely alive and vibrant. We are not experiencing the touristy, sometimes sheltered version of the country. But our experience is that people are simply getting on with life, with great verve and endeavour. The main visible issue we have seen are the queues for fuel due to shortages. Despite the long waits, that all happens peacefully and without fuss.
Of course the numbers of tourist, in a country for which tourism is an important source of income, are at a very low level. We have been thanked for coming, for goodness sake!
And our friends are very frustrated with how their lovely country is being presented back home in such a misleading way. It’s all negative.
I would suggest that a lot of the time we are getting the wrong news. And sadly, most of the time that’s not the exception. It’s the norm.
I’ve Still Got A Sandwich
I’ve missed the odd day of this blog before, but not three in a row.
Weddings, long distance plane journeys, and a subsequent and unexpected power cut are to blame in the immediate sense. But I could have written and scheduled some ahead of time too as a contingency. I did do that for one day anyway, but obviously it wasn’t enough.
Does it matter? Like a lot of things that matter to me or you, it’s not a matter of life and death. I haven’t got a guitar out here in Sri Lanka either, for instance. That’s weird for me, but it’s the same thing.
But as much as the big ones, Life and Death, matter, it is the filling in the sandwich that makes it a sandwich.
Fortunately for me and you, days without blogs and guitars, or any of our usual condiments, can be replaced with other fascinating, exciting, heart warming and beautiful kinds of filling.
I’ve still got a wonderful sandwich. Totally tropical. I’ll hopefully fill you in over the coming days.
1%
Who knows where life will take us?
But today it’s taking myself and my wife on a flight to Sri Lanka to celebrate the marriage of our son Joel, to the lovely Tharushi. We’re so excited to share that experience with her Sri Lankan family.
Music and love. They both bring us together, and break down barriers across borders and cultures. It’s a beautiful thing.
Because each human shares 99% DNA with every other human that has ever lived.
Love and music are also our way of celebrating that 1% of difference.
The Wedding Band
The wedding was great. I don’t want to rub it in about how great. I’m biased. And I’m a very proud father and father-in-law this morning.
But I wanted to mention the wedding band. They were great too.
Wedding bands sometimes receive a bit of scorn from 'singer/songwriters like me, who are often just simply jealous that they manage to make money going round entertaining people by singing other peoples songs. How dare they!
But they are, more often than not, excellent musicians (almost always better musicians than yours truly) and they simply want everyone to have a good time.
The Franchise did that in spades last night. They were brilliant.
And as an added bonus, the band, without rehearsal, also managed to accompany me in my song to the happy couple. It was lovely, and I’m grateful. Really nice guys too.
Shout out to the wedding bands.
(And massive congratulations to Joel and Tharushi of course :)