Nine Women

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I suppose I take the nature of the visual artists I know for granted. They are supportive and encouraging… thank you all.

However, the visual art that I have made doesn’t require the trust of other artists. Or perhaps I should say the direct trust, for the quality of my own work. Work done for a collaborative project with Bo Jones of course required trust that we both provided what we said we would, to the required standard, and we supported each other in our endeavours. But when it came down to it, my work was my sole responsibility.

Music is different.

I think this is one of the reasons I have found this project so emotionally overwhelming.

For me to make music, I need other people, for most songs, at some point.

It is a completely different relationship to that between visual artists in my experience (yours may well be different, I can’t speak of that)

Over the last couple of years I have gone from being someone who can hold a tune, sing in the car or shower, hymns in church or songs at school, to a woman who can deliver a song, fairly confidently, in front of an audience, and it sounds mostly ok. As my good friend Dan has been heard to say “It’s on the threshold of in tune, E!” And, at this pronouncement, I am now able to laugh and give it another go, rather than shut myself in the cupboard under the stairs to cry. That’s quite a development.

That development is down to the nature of musicians… or at least the ones I have encountered.

Now, when I sing in public, with these people alongside me, I trust them implicitly. They are able to get me out of the shit if I sing the wrong words in the wrong place, or forget the words, or completely cock it up. The band mentality is a warm, fuzzy, snuggly thing. It’s like the third glass of wine… I love them all, they are my best mates. There is a communication that passes between musicians during performance that is a real true cooperative thing. The strength is in them working together in the service of the song. It is an addictive feeling.

I’m not heading for the X Factor. I’m not going to be doing any open mic nights in local pubs. I don’t crave that. I love my making too much, and I’m too old, and not inclined to give it the time it would deserve if I was to change tack completely. But I do love it. I try my best to learn the words and concentrate to sing in tune, and do so as consistently as possible. That is bloody hard! My new best mates deserve that I give it my best shot, because they are giving it theirs. But I will be carrying on. I will continue writing songs, combining them with the visuals, and I will carry on performing on a small scale.

Last night was the not-quite-end-of-term concert for The Songwriters’ Circle at mac Birmingham. I attach here a soundcloud link to the bit I was in. The first song “Always You” was a collaborative effort, between the people you hear: Me, Dave Sutherland, Andy Jenkins and Ian Sutherland. The second song “Someone” is one of the nine women songs… Dave on mandolin, Dan Whitehouse on bass. I’ve left in all the banter in between, because it’s fun.

The writing in a group thing was new to me this term, I’ve only written in pairs before. It was an amazing thing. This song appeared really quickly… I had a verse and a pre-chorus bit… and an hour later, thanks to those lovely men, we had a song. I think it’s a good one, and I can’t wait to do it again, or write more in this dream team.

Meanwhile, in the studio, Dan and I are rehearsing for the live bit of the nine women preview night. As I said a couple of posts ago, the live performance isn’t so much part of the installation, more of a celebration. A celebration in which I raise a glass to all those who have shared the trust, and got me this far.

You’re my best mates you are! *hic* I love you!

Soundcloud link – please click here 

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I don’t know if it just me, but it might be worth saying to other people embarking upon a big project, publicly or self funded: you will need extraordinary personal resources. There isn’t a box on the form for this as such, but maybe there should be.
Enthusiasm, determination, persistence, eternal optimism, energy and positivity are required in order to sustain momentum for the project to run smoothly. Motivation can wane under certain conditions, and then you have to find it from somewhere.
Last week, fuelled by exhaustion, lack of sleep and possibly a dip in iron levels (a recurring issue) my mood has been swinging all over the place from an unnatural squeaky high, involving skipping down half a flight of stairs (regretted later)… to yet another “I’m not worthy” crisis of confidence. Luckily I have people around me who help, whether they know it or not. There are a couple of people close, who know it as it is happening, because I tell them (or I live with them). With other people I fake it to make it, and tell them later. Then they might say “I thought you were being a bit weird!” Hopefully there are other people who don’t even notice. I’ve blown it now then by writing this haven’t I?

I’m writing it because I feel it is important to acknowledge it. No one can sustain the high level of sociable energy required. Studio alone time is a crucial ingredient. Proper home time is important too. Balance in all things.

This week, I’ve been reminded that the gods scoff at our feeble attempts to plan.
The last song should have been simple. We knew what we were doing, how we wanted it, didn’t allow too much time for it because it was simple. But it wasn’t. For some reason it just didn’t seem to go right. It used up an extra session which has subsequently eaten into rehearsal time, which has made me a little twitchy.

On the sewing front, I’ve had this idea sat in the back of my head for weeks, that I’ve avoided starting, because I just knew it was going to be a right pig to do. I’d got a variety of ideas that could work, but didn’t know which would be successful. I had three bras on stand by, a selection of threads, wires, needles, small pointy scissors, wire snips. I had put aside a whole day for experimentation, trial and error, and bad language. I sat down and started. Three hours later it was done. Idea number one worked a treat, all stress and hassle averted!

It’s good to plan, to make effective use of time, to prevent the weeks rushing past without producing anything, but you have to have a contingency, be aware that it can all go awry, and plot in a couple of extra dates just in case. Plan for the plan to fail… Or at least wobble a bit!

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As if to make up for the procrastination, today, before writing this blog, I have worked eleven hours. If any employer in my entire history had asked me to work an eleven hour day I would have told them to shove it somewhere dark and damp.

But I have.
I spent three hours writing personal invitation emails. I spent about two hours proof reading my catalogue and uploading to be printed. I am paranoid about spelling errors, so went through it a dozen times before letting go. You can bet your bottom dollar they arrive, I open the box, flip one open and spot a mistake straight away. Sometimes you have to let these things go. I suspect one of the photos that looked ok on screen, when viewing the PDF proofs, looks a bit dodgy… Oh well….

I spent another hour jotting down some notes about a follow-on piece of work. I was so joyful that this turned up out of the blue, that I had to give it some time. I got out my sketch book for the first time in months, and set to… A few drawings and a few words… Enough to prompt when I have time later.

The rest of the time I have been listening to the completed song recordings. I have a confession. There aren’t nine, there are eleven. I couldn’t decide about cutting two, as I loved all these stories. So they are staying. The nine has become more nominal as the project has gone on anyway. I will possibly have eleven bras…. But probably only nine will be installed in the gallery, but one may go downstairs in the window…
Anyway, no cuts. I have spent this afternoon and evening working out the sequence of them. Each song has some sort of lead in, or a tail end, and we have some incidental bits too. I love this bit, it has surprised me, because it is quite a detailed, particular and careful job. The songs should move from one to the other lyrically and conceptually. But they should also link in terms of the music, the mood… There shouldn’t be a jarring. I am keen that the final note or chord of one song is harmonious with the first of the next, especially if there are no other sounds between. There should be some silence, and also a little white noise maybe. I like to merge the street sounds with the domestic. The women talking in the street, the sound of a door shutting… All these details build a story around these women, connect them in unexpected ways. Musically, the song about my premature son drifts gently into the song about domestic violence. It is poignant, but harsh: love in dangerous places.

Having constructed a playlist of them all in order I now can listen to them as a complete piece. It works. I like it. There will be some tweaking to put them together, and the odd stray sound needs editing out… But it’s pretty much done.

I can’t believe how well I know these women, they are real to me. I love them in all their messed up, resentful, horny, snobbish, caring, carefree, beautiful, nurturing femininity. It’s me and my friends I think… And possibly every other woman I’ve ever met. Either that or they are all me. Nine was never enough. Nine was always too many.

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Here I sit, procrastinating.

These guitar strings are still threatening to take my eyes out.

I have made about six cups of tea, and drunk three and a half.

I’ve been up to the town to buy luxury goods (Poundland, Wilko)

I’ve ordered some new clothes for the preview/gig night (that still counts as work, right?)

Tomorrow is the very last recording session.

It should be fairly straightforward as we know exactly how it should be… Dave “Ubiquitous” Sutherland on mandolin, Dan Whitehouse on electric bass… unless Dave’s double bass sounds so great we go with that instead. I have learned to hear differences… The electric bass is a low level rumble under the mandolin for the middle eight, warming it up and adding depth, you might not even notice it first listen (except I have now told you so you will). You can hear the attack on the double bass… the touch of Dave’s fingers on the strings. For one of the other songs, Crewe, I am just singing to the accompaniment of this bass (and the sounds of a train) and it sounds wonderful.

But for “Someone” I think it most likely to be the electric.

Are you wondering about the “Ubiquitous”?

Dave plays bass of all varieties, guitar, mandolin… I believe he also has a harp. If you make a round trip of Birmingham and the Black Country taking in a variety of folk nights, open mic nights and general giggery, Dave can be found either solo, or in attempted disguise (wearing a hat) with a selection of other bands. If you pick a selection of recordings from the area, you can look at sleeve notes and his name is there too. He’s a talented man who loves to play and write. He is modest and humble, and bloody brilliant. He’s been so supportive of this project, offering advice, musical and moral support all the way through. He has great knowledge, experience, and he wears really cool shoes. I have a bit of a musical crush I think. Don’t tell him, he’ll blush.

I think my procrastinating about the bush is my way of stretching this out. After tomorrow we have a  session booked to put the whole piece together, so all the songs flow from one to the other in a way that makes sense. We also have a few rehearsals booked for the performance. Considering at the beginning of this project I had no intention of performing, and had a real hard time deciding whether I should perform, I’m now really looking forward to it!

What is the worst that can happen?

The performance isn’t the work as such, its a celebration of its completion, and the hard work that it has taken. I might forget my words, although I am trying very hard to learn them so that doesn’t happen. If it does, Dan will be there to help me out…. or I’ll just carry on doing something until I remember where I am. I think most people attending will forgive me.

I might not hit the right notes. It’s live. That’s probably quite likely, but unlike a recording, hopefully by the time anyone notices I will have moved on.

The sewing is very nearly finished too. I have a few adaptations to make, and then I need to attend to the ceiling in the gallery so that I can hang them properly. I need to get up there and poke about to see if I need a drill, rawlplugs, battens or just screw-in hooks… There are a few patchy bits of paint that I need to fix when the current exhibition comes dawn in the middle of June.

I think, on the whole, I’m in control… time will tell…

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I’m an emotional wreck!

Last night, Helen Lancaster came into the studio to record some violin and viola for two of my songs. Helen’s Band “The Old Dance School” can be found here:

http://theolddanceschool.com/videos.html

I’ve mentioned the song I co-wrote with Nicky Kelly before… “The Gate”… this is the tricky one. This is the song that has everything in it, and has/is taking much more energy from Dan in terms of its production. It hasn’t got the kitchen sink in it, but it does have buckets, graters, whisks, spoons, cups, kettles, knitting needles and sandpaper…

And, as of last night, it had violin and viola. Helen had been sent the track as it stood a week or so before. It isn’t an easy one, the structure is all wrong, it has lots of different title-defying sections. It’s the sort of song you get from someone who isn’t a songwriter perhaps? Helen did us proud!

These strings just add so much richness, depth and emotion that we have stripped out whole sections of guitar in order to make it sound wonderful, and because the sound is so lyrical and emotional, we’ve stripped out a few lyrics too. After a period of play and editing on Saturday, it will sound amazing.

I am an acoustic, real instrument (and household appliance/utensil) kind of songwriter. The quality of sound and feeling you get from a real person playing cannot be surpassed by anything digital in my book.

“Delicate” is the song I wrote about my youngest son’s premature birth. It was originally a poem. I stitched the poem to a maternity bra.

I had wondered about recording it at all, and then maybe as spoken word, as it didn’t seem to have much structure, but did have a certain rhythmic feeling here and there. After discussion and a little while “noodling” whilst drinking tea and coffee, Dan Whitehouse wrote the music for it. We adjusted lyrics slightly, and even discovered a sort of chorus and bridge lingering in there!

The title suggests a light touch, so Dan’s guitar is very spare. The violin that Helen wrote and played last night has had me weeping. Seriously, sobbing over my laptop. For the song, the son, the mothers and the music, the strings pulling it all out of me. I’m exhausted and exhilarated all at the same time.

Music is a powerful thing. I feel so fortunate to be able to do this…