Just Enough Spice

Variety is the spice of life they say. But apparently people can have too much spice.

It will always be difficult, creatively, to walk that fine line between predictably comfortable and digestively explosive.

Singing a cover song as closely as possible to the original is predictable and comfortable and…..well…possibly a little bit dull? But there are of course many people who HATE spicy. And just coz I don’t get it, is no reason to say that kind of thing shouldn’t exist.

And even we allegedly creative folk sometimes need a slice of bland, but comfortable.

But try making something that is both artistically creative and still…well, strangely comforting. That is a toughie. And it is also why artists like Stevie Wonder, Lady Gaga, David Bowie, The Beatles, Prince, Kate Bush, and others who you could name, all of whom manage to do just that, are both popular and critically praised.

Most of the time anyway.

And no doubt it took even such lauded examples a little while to find their feet.

Lost At Sea

SOS!

Unfortunately we did overshoot.

We are currently sailing the Barents Sea having been “kidnapped” (?!?) along with 300 other passengers, by a bitter Stena Sealink captain who was just SO tired of crossing the same stretch of the North Sea for the last 35 years.

He decided, perhaps understandably … I really don’t know enough about his life to say for sure … to stretch his wings (his fins???). We passed, incredulously, by Hoek Van Holland and could even see people walking their dogs along the endless beaches of that stretch of coastline.

And now it seems that we really are taking the slow boat to China. Presently we are sailing AROUND Russia on our way to god knows where.

I’m all for people taking control and changing their lives for the better, but this has taken the biscuit. I am hoping that somebody reads this blog and contacts the appropriate authorities.

Before we get to The Other Side Of Blue. Thank you!

(Just my luck if today is the day when my thousands of readers all decide to have a break at the same time!)

A Slow Boat

I’d like to get

In fact I’m gonna get

On a boat to the Netherlands today. It takes a while to get there.

Hopefully we don’t overshoot…

Colours Of The Rainbow

That long stretch of the M74 from Glasgow to Gretna always feels like an eternity. I was driving it yesterday, and the weather was pretty poor to say the least.

But….

Oh my God! What a Rainbow! The best ever! Worthy of a super nova of superlatives and some hyper-exclamatory exclamation marks to top them off!!!!!!!!

Honestly, for about forty minutes we were driving towards it, spread across the whole of the landscape in front of us. Never dimming, or shrinking. Just a wall of colour against a dark slate background.

And all the while Little Miss Sunshine smiling at us bashfully from behind my shoulder, as though to say “Yeah, shucks, I did that … with a bit of help from my mates The Raindrops, of course.”

Absolutely wonderful.

And if you were to ask me “Can you tell me the colours of the rainbow?”….well, yes, I can as it happens. Better than I could before.

With a bit of help from my mates, The Grandweans, of course.

Everything’s Just Fine

Below is the lyric to a song I wrote a while ago for anyone who has contemplated checking out of life for good. I certainly have in the past, and it’s obviously not a great place to be. The most frightening part is that there no longer seem to be any tears to cry.

Tears are important, and anything that brings us back to that place - the place in which tears are possible again -can be the salvation.

It might just be a glimmer of recognition:

-In the eyes of a friend

- Or a stranger

- In the words or music of a song

- Or in any form of artistic creation

…which tells us that someone else has been where we are and has come out the other side.

There is an “other side” and it doesn’t have to involve taking your own life. The title of this song might sound a little facetious, but it’s simply a recognition that our present perspective is not necessarily the truth.

Everything’s Just Fine

Happy Ever After, Never ending laughter
The stories we tell
To stay alive
It’s a funny ending, but it’s still an ending
The one in which they all survive

And it’s alright including the fears
Everything I mean
Yeah everything’s just fine
Oh what a sight this vale of tears
We live it on the edge
And everything’s just fine

Happy Ever After,  Never ending laughter
It’s a perfect fairytale
But it’s not life
This rule is not for bending
There will always be an ending
So don’t let today
Pass you by

And it’s alright including the fears
Everything I mean
Yeah everything’s just fine
Oh what a sight this vale of tears
We live it on the edge
And everything’s just fine

You don’t need to find an escape
When the darkness overcomes you
And when we bleed, it’s not all over
Yes we have the power 
We have the power
To change our minds
And everything,  everything’s just fine

The Right Moment

I’ve been drip, dripping the concept of small intimate gigs in homes for a while now. It’s a habit that’s ingrained in me.

That means I’m not judging its success based on any measurable results. I believe in the idea, in spreading it, and in giving the universe as we know it, complete freedom:

- to ignore
- be inspired by, or
- to act upon it.

Obviously, I’m hoping that it’s the latter.

So it was nice to hear, via my wife and a work contact, about a complete stranger who lives on a Scottish island, but wanted me to know that he plans to try hosting a Homesong in his house, once his house is sorted.

That’s a result as far as I’m concerned.

And of course an encouragement.

Who knows who else might be out there, having the same thoughts, and just waiting for The Right Moment.

It Goes Something Like This…

It’s that time of year in the West of Scotland, just before the long winter, with the wind windding, and the rain reigning, when it’s possible to think that it might be nice to live somewhere else.

The thought never crosses my mind though. Apart from just now obviously.

But really, and though it be the cliche-est cliche of all, the truth is that the grass really ain’t greener on the other side.

Everywhere and everything has got its down sides to counteract any upsides. To make the green look duller or brighter depending on the angle you might happen to be looking from.

But upside down, or any way round, I’m very happy to live where I live. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Oh, go on then. That marmite song from Mr McCartney. Forget the name right now, but it goes something like this…

The Road To Fun

I mentioned The Grateful Dead a couple of blogs ago. One of the things that struck me was that, despite the fact that they took there music very seriously, the stated intention was not to “build a legacy” or “change the world” or “write the best music ever” or anything grandiose like that.

The aim was simply to have some fun.

And that’s not the worst objective in the world. Nor is it necessarily incompatible with any more serious challenges or targets. It’s really just about saying that, whatever we do, let’s make sure, at the very least, we enjoy doing it.

This is a theme that I’m warming to more as I get older, especially speaking as somebody who took both themselves and life far too seriously in the past. In fact what has always saved me, I suspect, from disappearing up my own backside, is an ability to laugh at myself taking myself too seriously.

But, it seems to be the case that…when all is said and done….we’re on The Road To Fun. Anyway, that’s the road I’m on right now. Feel free to come and join me. :-)

- As chance would have it The Road To Fun is the title of this month’s release in my Fee Come’s Fourth series. Not a bad segue (that’s how “segway” is supposed to be spelt apparently), though I say so myself.

Live Matters More

My favourite blogger today asks the question “What’s On Tonight?” and answers it by saying…well…in fact EVERYTHING is on. Tonight, via the power of the internet, it is access all areas, and that question we might have asked 30 years ago is largely irrelevant.

I agree with him. But I disagree with one remark later on in the same blog. He says that as result of these changes to society that “live matters less”.

It may well be that Seth is referring specifically to “live programming”, in which the time at which we actually watch The Program, has ceased to matter. Watch any damn time you like!

But I think that the Unrecorded Live Experience, has come to matter even more. And I’ve made this particular point many times before:

Something like a Homesong gig in which a few people are gathered for an evening of music that ONLY THEY will experience has, in this digitally ubiquitous age, become something very precious.

And my conclusion therefore, is that Live Matters More.

We need, even more than previously, those moments when the only thing to be said is - You Had To Be There.

Look, No Drugs!

I’ve started watching a documentary series about The Grateful Dead. Didn’t know much about their music or their history. But I had heard that they were a prime example of a band who focussed on simply making music and connecting with the fans. And having fun.

And they didn’t give two hoots about the music industry, but still managed to keep going for an awfully long time.

All of that seems to be born out by the series that I’ve been watching so far. But the question that has occurred to myself as a songwriter is not concerned with any of that.

Mainly, I’ve just been asking myself how the hell I managed to write a song without the assistance of some LSD.

Honestly quite proud of myself. Peace man!

First Tuesday

My friend Chris Annetts set up a wonderful little creative community outlet in Campbeltown. It’s called First Tuesday, and it happens appropriately on the first Tuesday in the month at lunchtime in the local library. Bringing together one local songster, and a local writer or writers, they take it in turns to present five songs and five written poems or wee stories.

It’s proving popular and is a great opportunity for local creative artists to show folk what they’re up to. A donation is taken, that goes towards supporting the library….which, if you weren’t aware, need all the support they can get at the moment. Like many very useful things libraries are precisely the kind of useful things which are under threat from the never ending cuts we seem to be experiencing.

But don’t worry. Apparently the tax cuts to everybody earning over £150,000 per annum is going to sort all of that out.

In the real world, of course, grass roots ANYTHING will disappear unless we ourselves look after the grass. Or unless we grow some new grass! That’s the reality of the current climate in the UK at least.

So I’m delighted to be playing myself at Campbeltown Library this First Tuesday coming, and have prepared a set list, with a topical literary theme.

Including…The Book.

Would be daft not to include that one.

Applauding Otters

There was a long period of time when playing a gig, any gig, was a big ordeal for me. It wasn’t fun. But it felt like something I had to do. And after doing it, there was usually a sense of relief.

That was as good as it got.

At one point I told myself that I had to find a way to enjoy myself. Or else stop altogether. And thankfully, over a period of years I have managed to start looking forward to playing gigs the vast majority of the time.

All of this came to mind two days ago when I kind of made myself go out with my tent for a night, as I mentioned in yesterday’s blog. I’ve done that before, and been so focussed on coping with the practicalities and dealing with the crazy little fears of being alone in the dark somewhere, that it has been comparable in many ways to my previous gigging experience. More of a relief to have done it and come out the other end intact.

When I was camping the other night I suddenly got a new sense of confidence that I would be, that I was, learning to enjoy the whole experience. And that my experience in learning to enjoy performing at music gigs was the proof that things could and would change even more for the better.

And then like a round of hearty ovation at the end of a gig, I had yesterday’s Applauding Otters to round things off perfectly.

#TheOtterSong

So the lesson I’m learning is this: stepping outside of our comfort zone is not about the suffering! It’s about the process of changing our minds and learning to enjoy something new, that subsequently rewards us with a whole heap of benefits which we would miss out on otherwise.

Otters And Eejuts

This blog is sometimes a wee bit of a journal too. Little memory joggers for myself, about what’s been happnin’.

And what happened this morning was that I was out sitting waiting for my little meths stove to boil, ready for a morning coffee on a stoney beach a couple of miles from Campbeltown. I sat watching the sun slowly rise, somewhere between the Isle of Arran over to the left and Ailsa Craig over to the right. In the foreground were the cliffs of Davaar Island, accessible at lower tides just a half mile back towards the town.

It was such a lovely place to be at that moment. But then, as they say, the cherry on the cake revealed itself…um…on top of the cake.

A couple of otters appeared playing about 20 metres away, right in front of me. And then they started thinking they were dolphins, and did this amazing thing of swimming under water, and then shooting up out in an arch before swimming beneath the surface again. Just beautiful. And the sea as calm as it gets. A few minutes of magic.

None of this would have happened if I hadn’t left the comfort of home after tea the night before, walked out to a nice camping spot a bit further on from where this story began, put up my tent, and slept there the night.

I’ve usually settled for the short term comfort option when I’ve been thinking about doing something similar to this in the past. What an eejut I’ve been, when I’m so lucky to live where I live.

And how much else have I missed?

Like otters randomly surfing the seashore, a few more thoughts on this topic tomorrow.

Trying It Out In The Garden

I got this little wood “gasifier” stove which can turn the twigs you find when hiking and camping into a quick and efficiently burning fuel.

It took me a long time to get it going. Then at the point I got it going I realised that everything was the wrong way round. At which point I had to get it un-going, in order to sort out that mess, before getting it going again.

When it was going properly I got myself enough water boiled for a nice cup of coffee in just a couple of minutes. But it had taken me forty minutes to get to that point.

I KNOW I can bring that time down!

But, the moral of this story is: don’t take on a gig that you’re not ready for until you’re ready for it.

Try it out in the garden first.

No Permission Needed

We don’t need to ask permission from teacher to go to the toilet anymore (should we ever have had to?).

But still we easily carry around in our heads the idea that we need the go ahead from somebody in authority before we try any of the crazy ideas that might pop up in there. Anything that feels new and different from the norm can have that “Permission Needed” aura hanging over it.

. As a result most, if not all, of the crazy ideas that do enter our amazingly creative noggins, many of which might not have been so crazy after all, remain…well, stuck right there… in that cool, dark, safe place inside our skulls. Sadly, they never see the light of day.

And maybe they would have failed miserably. Who knows?

But we will never found out.

BTW. You don’t need my permission to hold a Homesong in your house.

The Graveyard Crawl

At the end of my almost daily walk is a place where I pause for a while. There’s a beautiful view through the trees across Campbeltown Loch, past Davaar Island that guards the mouth of the loch, and onwards to the Isle of Arran.

And down below, in front of all of that lies Campbeltown graveyard. A beautiful place to be buried if you get the choice. But also a very good place to contemplate death and all its accoutrements while you are still alive.

I often hear the sound of the gravel underneath the cars that drive slowly along the track around the graveyard while I’m sitting up among the hillside trees. This tongue in cheek, black humoured lyric started coming to me a couple of days ago as I sat and watched.

The Graveyard Crawl

Well the gravel dies
Underneath the tires
As they slowly drive
Along the track

I’m afraid to say
There ain’t a hope in hell
That you’ll be coming back

It’s the graveyard crawl
The graveyard crawl
Comes to us all in the end
The graveyard crawl
The graveyard crawl
I’m so glad you were my friend
Till the very end.

There a hole somewhere
Enough room to spare
They’re gonna put you there
Then fill it in

I’m afraid to say
That heavens above
And you’re not getting in

Chorus: It’s the graveyard crawl etc

You weren’t a bad guy
Maybe not a good guy
But still, we’ll all cry
A little tear

I’m afraid to say
There’s every chance
You’ll still be here next year

It’s the graveyard crawl etc

Well this song goes slow now
Coz I’m about to go now
And you’ll be sad now
All dressed in black

I’m afraid to say
There ain’t a hope in hell
That I’ll be coming back

It’s the graveyard crawl
The graveyard crawl
Comes to us all in the end
The graveyard crawl
The graveyard crawl
And I’m so glad
You were my friend
Till the very end.

The End.

That Sort Of Thing

If you ever feel embarrassed when you are the centre of attention, then join the club. In fact I think that there are very few people who automatically come alive under the spotlight. Maybe that originates from school experiences, when avoiding putting our hands up and getting the answer wrong or making a fool of ourselves in front of classmates was generally the order of the day.

Not many of us were taught by teachers like Mr. Keating, played by the great Robin William’s, in Dead Poet’s Society. The sort of leaders who bravely break through the accepted etiquette and behavioural rules, not for the sake of it, but to help others to grow and to overcome fear.

Without that kind of help, it’s something that we have to teach ourselves. Because, as it was for the young men in the film, so it often is for us: learning to be more comfortable under the spotlight can be a small step on the way to standing up for something that really matters.

I happen to think we need more of that sort of thing.

James Robertson

This is just my little tribute to the landlord of a local pub who sadly died recently.

The Kilbrannan Bar was the place one of my sons and I went to watch football on many occasions before Covid. James Robertson was always very welcoming, and did his utmost to accommodate us (usually to watch Man Utd) even when Rangers or Celtic were playing. My son, who is not always comfortable in social situations, was especially made welcome, both by James and the regulars at the pub.

It is always the little things that make the difference. And it is for the little things that I’m immensely grateful.

Sadly, for various reasons, we hadn’t been back to the Kilbrannan since the Lockdown period. Thankfully I had been able to express my gratitude to James on previous occasions.

Today, it’s Hat’s Off to the big fella. And my heart felt sympathies to Elaine and to his family and close friends.

Army Dreamers

To my mind there is a fundamental difference between conscripting citizens of a country to attack another country or to defend their own land.

Most people would stand up to fight for friends, family, and freedom when it is directly threatened by violent forces against their own nation. As those in the Ukraine continue to do.

But there is no shame, in fact, I would suggest exactly the opposite, in refusing to fight when your own country is the pro-active aggressor in a land that has offered no direct threat to your own.

I was reminded of this when watching one of the brilliant works of art yesterday, both the song and the videoed choreography, that Kate Bush created and performed on TOTPs back when I were just a lad. Genius.

Gary Carey, who played a Homesong here in Campbeltown last weekend, has also written one of the best songs I’ve heard on the subject.

nb You will notice, particularly in Gary’s lyric, how nothing needs to be spelled out. The message, the fundamental futility of war, is all the more powerful, because it is unspoken.

The Big Release

This is a very personal take, but I try to avoid Big Releases.

And when I haven’t, I’ve always regretted it.

Making a big song and dance about a song (or anything we hype up) means that our personal expectations and hopes are of course heightened, and the potential for disappointment so much greater. Not just for ourselves, but for anyone else involved, and particularly for the listeners, who might want to like the latest new song, but find that actually, on this occasion, they’re really not very keen on it.

When it comes to releasing creative material I prefer to drip feed, as and when the material is ready. It’s not very spectacular, but it keeps my focus on the songwriting, the recording and the enjoyment of the whole process. And afterwards, any reactions to it feel more authentic and meaningful.

I’d rather somebody else, and not me, said…”blimey, that’s bloody, brilliant mate”.

The Big Release begs the question, but might get the wrong answer.

nb. I don’t mind telling folk that I’m planning to try to fly to the moon though. That’s a different kettle of fish. I want to be held to account by somebody if I don’t live up to my promises. And likewise, I don’t struggle with the announcer giving the performer a big build up, as long as it’s realistically big, and believable.