NOTES… on Drawing Songs

Deep breath, and then GO…

Arts Council England said yes.
Thank you.

I’ve been at this for over a year. If you count the first abortive attempt, nearly two years.

This was the seventh attempt. Six unsuccessful applications.

So the lesson is, keep going. If you need it, if you think the project is worth it, keep at it. Like a dog with a bone. Don’t let it go. And actually, you do get a bit hardened to rejection. It’s character building! (Not that I need any extra character, frankly, but you know what I mean?)

I do have to thank ACE also for the feedback, support and unrelenting cheerfulness with which they answer queries, and in some cases, they seemed genuinely gutted that I didn’t get it, and were very encouraging all the way through. They are, in spite of difficulties, technical issues, covid-19 nightmares, a true national treasure. Keir Gill has been an absolute star, so he gets a special mention.

The first six unsuccessful applications were essentially Research and Development. Every bit of rejection feedback centred on audience and engagement… and I was having a tough time trying to meet the requirements for that. It was speculative, and from my end, I had a hard time with that… predicting what the outcome might be, and consequently how people would engage with this mythical outcome is hard. I know they say they welcome R&D applications, but if you are going to give that a go, try to figure out that bit and pin it down.

The difference this time was that over lockdown, with a chunk from the ACE emergency fund, and a chunk from the government SEISS, I was able to do much of that research. The seventh application therefore, was able to concentrate on the actual project itself. And therein, I think, lay the success. Now I knew what I was going to do/make I could reliably state what sort of audience and how they would engage, even in the current circumstances. The application was much clearer for the writer as well as the reader I’m sure.

So what am I going to do?

I have two blogs on a-n, one that is the same as the one posted on my website, and the other just on a-n concentrating on my musical output. (I’m posting this on all of them, but may start a separate project blog…?) The music over the last few years has become a stronger entity, and in my head, if not in the exhibition space, runs alongside, through, is entangled and enmeshed, fully integrated… but only in theory really. Because music production is expensive, and requires technical skills and music knowledge I don’t have much of. But the thing is, I can hear what I want.
The money then, will pay for the time and space (and people) for writing, recording, experimentation and eventually production of the sounds and music at the same pace and time as my drawing, and will be cross-pollinating. I have very basic recordings, a library of sounds waiting to be manipulated, drawn out and drawn on… the drawings are pulling out from the page into three dimensional drawings, and now I can pull them further out into sound. This will culminate in an exhibition/installation/event/performance in 2021 which will definitely have an audience to engage!

It’s going to be a fun year!

Songwriting. The ultimate process driven art form?

A song is never finished.

At last night’s rehearsal for no gigs we refreshed our memories of old songs: 

“What’s the chord between the mid8 and the chorus?” 

“Am I supposed to sing that twice?”

“Did I come in too soon or too late?”

“How do we end this damn song?”

What’s nice is that sometimes out of confusion or lack of memory, an improvised moment causes something different to happen. Fresh. An old song gains something extra. A song we have written between us and played dozens of times is a living thing.

I’m always astonished, honoured, sort of bewitched by the process of writing that we have accidentally fallen into. I write words. Lots of them. They can come easily to start with, and are then reviewed and edited, and usually parked and revisited before handing them over. I was cautious at first because it exposes, makes you vulnerable. Especially as some of my lyrics feel very close. I have discovered the way to cushion a blow is to send things out in a batch. When someone asks if I have anything (answer always yes) I will send out at least four sets of lyrics. If I send out one, there’s a greater chance of rejection. If I send out a few, someone will find something they think they can work with. Miraculously, so far, there’s never been any competition, they pick different things to work on. Then, sometimes weeks or months later, there’ll be a return of some sort. And I might get sent a recording to see what I think. This is still far away from the finished, giggable item… but it’s a newborn.

Last night was a bit maternity ward. We looked at two or three new songs. We played and sang. Each time played is slightly different once other people get involved. There often is a lyric change/edit. I always sing it differently to the others, the phrasing and delivery of the lyrics I wrote… they have been handed back to me wrapped in a blanket and then it’s my job to look after it and bring it up properly. There’s a matter of arrangement and harmony as the rest of the family get to know the new baby. But we can usually tell, in those first playings, that this can be something lovely.

I hope that I never lose this sense of wonderment. I can’t believe I ever found it! It’s creativity at its most alive. I have rehearsal recordings on my phone, complete with interruptions and false starts and repetitions. I will listen to them over and over, and look forward to the next family outing.