The Starting Point

I just remembered a song I’d written.

I remembered it. Which means I’d forgotten it. It is called Premier Man, and I remembered it because I wrote it in a Premier Inn, and that’s where I am right now.

But how many things have I forgotten? How many things have I forgotten that will never come back to me again? How does my brain, without the obvious reminders like the one I just experienced, decide what I should remember, and what should remain forever in Oblivion

What is important for my survival? For my revival? For this one life?

The crazy thing is, that I just don’t know the answer to any of these questions. My own attempts at keeping anything at the forefront of my mind are arbitrary and highly subjective. And my brain makes all the other decisions independently of my input.

In other words, I don’t really know what I’m doing. And on the surface that seems like a bad thing. A very bad thing.

On the other hand perhaps this crumb of knowledge is the starting point for everything. Maybe it can breed the humility that strips away those delusions of personal omniscience. The first step to seeing things as they really are.

Anyway, hopefully I’m not bringing you down with all these seemingly nihilistic meanderings of my mind. If it’s any consolation, it’s having the opposite affect on me.

Have a nice day!

Our Superpower

I’m sitting with one of my grandsons as he quietly draws a picture in the kitchen. He is very focused and still. The most introverted of my grandchildren.

”What are you drawing Angus?”

He becomes animated. “I’m just doing scores for this guy”. And then a whole explanation of why this guy he has drawn is getting his scores, in a Top Trumps kind of way, involving a whole world of imagination inside of Angus’s head.

The guy has a “knockback” of 99 btw. You’ve got to admit…that’s impressive.

In our imaginations, we are the King or Queen of the whole frikin’ empire. Nobody else controls it. Nobody needs to know what’s going on in there. And nobody can take it away from us.

Imagination is Our Superpower.

This Kind Of Bleugghhhh

I am not a bot.

You should probably be able to tell because my sentences, and indeed the words in the sentences, are so very random. I don’t even know what I’m going to write next.

So don’t panic Mr Mainwaring.

Because what kind of artificial intelligence is ever going to spout This Kind Of Bleugghhhh, without simply using a copy and paste function.

There will be a kind of comfort in that, I think, should The Great AI In The Cloud ever come to rule over us.

When Your Face Doesn’t Fit

It can be tough When Your Face Doesn’t Fit.

You think you’re good looking, characterful, charming and AVAILABLE…but somebody else, with clearly a lot less of everything, apart from the availability, gets chosen ahead of you.

And when it happens regularly, it starts to seem as though there is a pattern developing. Maybe you don’t have the qualities you thought you had after all.

Again, it all comes back to changing the things you can change, and letting everything else be as it is.

Maybe you could have pushed yourself forward more. But maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe you could do something about your face. Or maybe there was nothing that could be intentionally improved.

It’s all, as they say, good. Chill. Don’t judge yourself. Or the ones that get picked.

This is not any kind of defeatist attitude.

It’s the only way to move forward.

(And if you guessed correctly, yes, I’ve been rejected as the model for the front cover of GQ magazine YET AGAIN!)

Emotional Beings

I’ve just had an interesting discussion with one of my sons about the use of music as a tool to influence us emotionally in regard to this, that, or the other. The subject in question happened to be the promotion of vegan-ism in a video highlighting the cruelty of many animal farming practises. My son is a vegan.

Clearly music does impact the emotions. My own take on this, is that I prefer for music not to be used to support subjects that are about challenging and/or contentious subjects. We are Emotional Beings, but I think we need to make every effort to stand aside from those emotions when we enter the realm of “truth seeking”.

That’s what I argued for anyway. But it’s really just a personal preference, born out of my days in the religious world, in which music was often used to move people towards faith and to precipitate certain actions. Beliefs and actions which I now think very differently about.

But if anything highlights how irrational we often are, it is the power that music can have over our emotions and thought processes.

Music has great power. Like anything, it can be abused or misused.

A Journey Worth Taking

I travelled 4 hours yesterday, for the album release gig of a friend in a community centre in Edinburgh. I’ve never done that for any of your bog standard famous musicians. But to be honest, all the gigs I’ve most enjoyed have been by people I know or have a connection with. And all have been in small venues.

Dylan and Knopfler at the SECC really never did it for me.

But Norman Lamont and The Heaven Sent and, his support Rosie Nimmo and band, both rocked it in their own ways last night at The Leith Folk Club. Such a pleasure. Great songs, wonderfully performed, by lovely people.

Definitely, A Journey Worth Taking.

The Last Time

Is this The Last Time?

Who knows?

But it could be. The last time you do that particular thing. See that particular person. Have that particular experience.

Read this particular blog.

That’s not a dark thought. It’s one of gratitude. And enjoyment. And appreciation.

And it’s a reminder to keep on keeping on ceasing the day, the hour, the moment. You might not need reminding, but I do.

Hostess With The Mostess

I’m taking the geetar to a friend’s 50th party tonight. Many happy returns (for tomorrow) to the wonderful Homesong Hostess With The Mostess, Lori Silvan.

I’m not your ideal musician for this sort of thing to be honest. I still don’t know a cover song even though I keep threatening to learn some. But, hey, I can play about a hundred original Feetunes if required (trying to learn all my back catalogue at the moment….I’ll get there eventually) so I’m not going to berate myself too much.

And some of those songs are real party boppers as far as I’m concerned. We will see.

But Lori has been a wonderful encourager of the Homesong idea. And she’s been a wonderful host to many fantastic Homesong evenings in her wee “barn/shed” in Clachan. As many locals and far flung musicians will testify.

And she definitely won’t let the party atmosphere drop, even if there’s nobody to play the Beatles, the Elton, the Taylor, or the Sheeran.

Wishing her the best evening of her life…even if it rains!

And onto the next 50 Lori. Congratulations!

Friendship CD’s

I recently bought a new CD release by a friend and Homesonger, Norman Lamont (and The Heaven Sent). It’s called Turn.

I only tend to buy CD’s from musicians with whom I have some physical connection these days. And I don’t buy them to listen to, coz I don’t have a CD player. (That’s what the WAV files are for, and I only got those today, so I haven’t listened to it properly yet. I know it’s going to be excellent though, from what I’ve heard “leaked” up to now).

I buy these CD’s as a musical symbol of connection. And I plan to make a wall of Friendship CD’s one day, if I get a room that is mine alone. They will be a reminder of all the wonderful times I’ve had, and the friends I have been able to make, simply by writing songs, and meeting and hooking up with other songwriters and music lovers.

That’s been such a wonderful pleasure of the last 20 years of my life in particular.

- If you happen to be in the Edinburgh area next week, Norman and the band are launching the album at the Leith Folk Club in the Heart Of Newhaven, in Newhaven. Supported by another Homesonger friend, Rosie Nimmo. Doors 7.30pm. I’m very much looking forward to it.

Sounds

The clock is ticking.

The rooks are cawing. The breath is escaping and returning with a soft hiss. The hard-drive is humming. Something inside my head, my internal hard-drive, is humming too. I think it’s the blood rushing around, but I’m no expert.

The keyboard is clicking.

This is the music of life. Always sounds present, even in that space we call Silence.

I don’t always listen closely enough.

The songwriter should probably pay a little more attention to Sounds.

Sonder

Sonder - “The realisation that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own - populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness.”

That’s Sonder…not Sondar (otherwise Dan Dare will be on my case!)

I recently came across this word, and it’s wonderful definition. I say recently. It feels familiar. Have I written about it before? I don’t know. But I do know that the realisation it mentions is a fantastic one to have.

I hope that your own particular and unique “vivid and complex” life is going in a good direction. I’m so glad I’m sharing it with you, whether I know you or not.

And I know I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating many times - what a frickin’ privilege we have!

Let’s go out there and make it the best life possible. Whether we have 60 minutes left, or 60 years.

For Better Or Worse

Me or everyone.

The individual or the team.

My brain or the culture.

It’s clear that the only thing I can really change in all of this, is my part. I am my responsibility. And nothing else changes without personal change happening.

But it’s not enough. I’m a human. Other people matter. The circumstances they exist in matter. It’s all part of a whole. I’m part of a whole. I can see that.

So, if I want to be “better”, and I have a definition of what “better” might look like, I’m going to need to persuade someone else to join me. That’s how culture happens.

And For Better Or Worse, that’s how we operate. That’s how human life progresses. And sometimes regresses. Someone persuades us to change ourselves, and we change. And then we persuade someone else to do the same.

We are all involved in this process, whether we like it or not. But we can choose whether to be pro-actively or passively involved.

No other options, I’m afraid.

The Fewest Words

“I had a wheelbarrow, the wheel fell off”. And repeat.

That’s the song for my main football team, the one I’ve supported since I was a boy. Notts County. My son and I travelled, Friday night down, Saturday night back, on the overnight bus from Glasgow to watch them win promotion on penalties at Wembley. My word it was a hard watch. But a happy ending.

And the song is, in my opinion, the best football chant in the world. It sums it all up, for those of us who follow a football team. Yes there are the high points, like Saturday, but mostly…well, the wheel is falling off. Mostly we don’t reach the top. Only one team wins the league. Or the cup. Everybody else loses.

It is about the taking part.

And the best songs usually say it in The Fewest Words.

The Technological Bubble

The Technological Bubble
I’m happy to say
Stops causing me trouble
When I blow it away
And go for a walk
On a sunny spring day.

My senses grow brighter
Sweet scents waft my way
The birds sing on high
And the clouds fly away.

Pleasures are doubled
The stress at least halved
I no longer struggle
My breathing stays calm.

But it’s not a big secret
This thing that I do.
I just press the off switch
And you could do too.

Once the bubble is blown
The bubble stays blew.

Money In The Bank

The practise done when there is no opportunity, gig, or performance on the horizon is far from pointless.

Like any practise, or exercise, or preparation it is Money In The Bank.

A gift of kindness to your future self.

It will make things easier, when the pressure is on.

Because when the pressure’s on it is not the time to be getting ready.

The Stuck

I get stuck sometimes. In my head. It can, it used to be, a precursor to much worse.

But even now, despite knowing better, the first thing I do is to try and mentally fight my way out. I look around desperately for something to get me out of The Stuck. A distraction. Something to do. Or watch. Somewhere to be. Anything to stop me thinking.

But often the harder I try, the more I want to get out of it, the less energy I have, and the more the stuck sticks.

And it’s strange, but once I accept that, once I stop the struggle to “escape”, once I look straight at whatever it is that seems to be holding me… it, The Stuck, immediately starts to lose its power.

Being stuck usually has its own shelf life. It will usually lose its grip. But that shelf life will decrease far more rapidly when the stuckness is looked at directly, acknowledged, and then waved goodbye.

What A Ride!

“What’s wrong with U?”
”I can’t come out to play till after T?”


It’s true. Everything is in its place.

But at the same time those places are constantly changing. Things move. A constant movie stream in our consciousness with never a single sequence repeated in exactly the same way.

We don’t have to do a thing to “create” that experience.

We simply learn to dance with it all. And dance with the experience of dancing with it.

We are each a whirling dervish, spinning along with, and within, the universe. Inside and out. A part of everything, and yet everything uniquely ours to enjoy.

What A Ride!

*’s OK! No mushrooms were imbibed for breakfast. Just getting amazed without any outside “assistance” whatsoever. Yeah, baby!

Pulling At The Heart Strings

Pulling At The Heart Strings.

A magical happening, which Art in all its various forms can achieve. What a wonderful thing to be able to do. What a gift that is. What a privilege.

Just a song, a film, a picture, a documentary, a sculpture, a mime … reaching out to the heart of someone who may well be a complete stranger. Perhaps even helping them to heal. Or to grieve. Or to process. I’m thinking of sadder songs now.

Simply to help us feel something, when those feelings have been pushed down while we try to get on with the job of living. Of getting by.

And those feelings don’t have to be a massively advertised event, shouted, or cried out for everybody to notice. Even if we’re in an age where thankfully we aren’t hiding them away as much.

A feeling can simply be a quiet harmony to the song that you just sang.

If you’re feeling it, somebody else is.

Even if you never hear the tune that their heart is playing.

Our Choice

Some big event could occur.

“First man walks on the moon”

”President declares war”

”Earthquake raises city”

”Man and Woman have silly hats placed on their heads and millions of people get excited”

It’s possible for all these things to happen, and to pay no attention whatsoever. We are not owned by information. There is no obligation. We are generally, thankfully, not forced to pay attention to anything.

Maybe some of these events are worth paying attention to. Maybe not. But it’s almost always Our Choice.

Anyway, I had a quiet Saturday. And a quiet Saturday night.

What Is Wrong With Now?

What Is Wrong With Now?

I’m walking along “in the moment”, but my mind wants to jump to some point in time, the past, or the future….anywhere that isn’t now.

Is there something wrong with now? Something I need to escape from?

Not really. This phenomenon can happen when I’m in the very places where I love to be. While wandering alone along the forest paths on the side of Beinn Ghuilean this morning, for instance.

It’s probably a survival instinct you would think. From the days when my ancestors were needing to rehash the past in order to learn from mistakes, and plan the future. All in order to survive.

Those instincts aren’t necessarily helpful to me today though. Because NOW is the only place that I can actually count on, and my survival doesn’t need me to leave it too often. And it definitely doesn’t need me to do it when I’m in the middle of doing something I love.

Not that imagination is redundant. But it would be nice to go into that world as a deliberate choice.

Because, I’m lucky. Most of the time, everything I need and want is here, right now.