Threads

Luxury, and/or Necessity?

In the early hours of this morning I listened to this…

https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https://www.mixcloud.com/BrumRadio/the-glass-age-feat-chris-cleverley-051124-w-dan-whitehouse/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR3ApYIqJ4v4fbjYeoAkZXWLKMDnJWopnka199Qt8vE7u67hC3GKuNciVAg_aem_I4fr_LaM12SoL31pLObqCQ&h=AT1_s8esn_FarpKaSBAajM184LJGvu8bW7vxDR1FNUPQr9770ogjNmB4FqH8CIFymMtYMZmkgcGc3dsx7w-uT-2fFPzIsuGfwU_aSS_aN2uYp3yACfepsi1XWplBCIVyApCFXwI&__tn__=-UK-R

It is a regular show on Brum Radio by my friend Dan Whitehouse, and in this episode he interviews another songwriting friend, Chris Cleverley.

I’m a big fan of Chris, he has his feet steeped in quite traditional folk music, but over the years I have known him his songs have become more contemporary, and more “him”. We also have quite a lot of favourite music in common, which always helps! It’s an interesting process I think. It’s a thing that happens to visual artists too. It takes a while to soak up enough “stuff” and do enough of it to then be able to use what you know to produce something unique.

The show is worth a listen, as in addition to the songs, there is a good discussion on the nature of songwriting, and how it happens, and how you push the process along sometimes, and how sometimes you let it sit awhile. Again, much like the visual art process.

Dan quotes Bob Dylan…’It is the first line that gives the inspiration and then it’s like riding a bull. Either you just stick with it, or you don’t.’

This really struck me… because that is what I do. A good first line is key. If it grabs me, and draws me in, gives me somewhere to go, is an intriguing set-up… then it’s worth pursuing. Occasionally in the edit, or the music writing, that first line might not end up being the first thing you hear, but it will be there, somewhere prominent.

In my note book there are many “first lines” that have remained as that, just one or two lines, sat there just waiting for the rest to follow. But sometimes, the rest just flows out thick and fast!*

Chris also talked about the routine of his days. This is something I’ve not been very good at in the past. When I worked for other people my routine was theirs. But since being freelance, I haven’t been very good at this. I am trying to change. Chris talked about the daily routine of getting the “admin” of life out of the way first so that he could then concentrate on his day: writing, playing his guitar, and looking after his voice. He sounds very disciplined.

I can’t really do a daily routine like that, but I am trying to establish a weekly rhythm to my artist life, by changing how I frame things.

I do this thing, if I’m not careful, that when I am in the studio, I think about the things I should have done at home, and then when I am at home I am always thinking of the things I want to do in the studio. It’s bonkers to always wish I was somewhere else, or feel guilty about it.

But Art is not a luxury, Art is a necessity. It is important, and I have to use the majority of my time with Art… or perish.

A suggestion from a friend has changed that completely! So now, on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I “prepare for being in the studio”. This entails batch cooking, housework, laundry, shopping… whatever is required to set me up for the week. Then on Thursday to Sunday when I am in the studio, I know there’s nothing to be done at home, or if there is, it can wait till Monday! This is such a simple change to my internal script, but after three weeks, it has been revolutionary! Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Thanks Kate!

*Some of my first lines:

BUTTONS:
He knew where all her buttons were
And used them at his will

UNDERTAKER BEES
I learned today about undertaker bees
And a kindness dressed up as cruel

EIGHTY SEVEN
She counted every one every day
Eighty seven steps to the top floor

At the moment I have a couple of strands of work that are putting me in a quandary as to what to do with them, because I don’t really know what they are yet, what they are for. And yet I am compelled to keep at it.

One: the paper twigs. I’ve taken a small break from these. I thought I had finished, but I think I want to make a few more. Mostly because I am still unsure what they mean to me, these false leads, these interlopers… they’re not real, but are they still useful to me?

Two: the drawings of stones on fabric. As with most things I embark upon, I feel the need to have more, am compelled to keep making them. Unfortunately I have run out of materials, so I am on a bit of a hunt for more cotton and linen sheets and tablecloths. Ideally I want old and worn out ones. Holes are fine. Not sure about stains though.(If you are reading this and you have some, please do get in touch!)

I don’t know what these mean to me either really.

I know I am intrigued by the “weight” of the stones, floating around, ungrounded (like they were on the paper drawings). The fabric makes them lighter, and adds movement. They waft around in the draughts of the studio. The placing of the stones makes a difference, they either sink to the bottom of the sheet, or they are suspended in space half way up, or perhaps they are floating in water.

They have grown out of the work done with the twigs… sticks and stones… but I am still pondering the relationships. They have no identity as yet. In the paper drawings, I had them posing as adults to the children, but that doesn’t really work for this… they have their own role to play.

I have, however, learned to trust my compulsions to make. While my hands draw, and manipulate the fabric, my brain is doing something else.

At some point, all will become clear, I am confident.

(ish)

This morning, after writing about performing, I find myself back at the start, with my lyrics writing notebook. I’ve written a couple of things this morning. One is a bit rubbish, but the idea will probably resurface in a better way at some point. The other, I think, is pretty good. It’ll need an edit in a few days, but it can be parked for now. It’s best looked at afresh when I’ve had time to forget it.

The notebook in itself I think is an item of interest. I know other writers use the backs of envelopes, scrap paper, file paper, iPads, phones etc. Some have developed systems over years, and some don’t seem to have a system at all that I can discern.

I have a system.

When I was tentatively writing my first lyrics, under the mentorship of the glorious Dan Whitehouse, he advised me to have a system. He suggested giving every idea a title, even if it was only a two line idea. He then said I should also date it. So I bought a Muji notebook with lovely smooth paper, and some pens of different colours to go with it. Each layer of edit is done in a different colour. I write in ink so I can’t rub things out. I might do a single cross through, because you never know what might come in handy later. Then I number the pages and have a running index at the back. It might be a bit messy sometimes, but it is a system. The good thing about the size of these pages (A5ish, 33 lines) is that it is impossible for a song to get too long. I work first of all on the crisp right hand page, but later edits often stray to the left hand page. But it will fit maybe three verses, a chorus, a mid 8 maybe (not that I know which is which at the start). When I get to the stage where I want someone else to read it, for musical purposes, I print it out. I use Avenir 15pt, 1.5 line spacing. A more recent development is that in the header the title is in bold, in the footer is my name, the date, and the notebook number and song index number, so I can trace it back. Sometimes a print out might come from more than one page of the notebook where I have amalgamated ideas.

I very rarely have musical ideas when I write lyrics. But I do know that these are lyrics, and not poetry. I don’t feel they are quite right until they get the music. What music does is give them life. It smooths out the bumps, it adds emphasis, it gives them space to breathe where they need it. They gain a cadence, and a deeper expression when the music arrives. I don’t really know how or why this happens, just that when I have the right writing partners, it works. Properly works. I don’t know if my bandmates and cowriters have ever realised the importance of what they do, or how much I appreciate them for making my work both physically, and metaphorically, SING!

Thank you my lovelies…especially Andy Jenkins, Ian Sutherland, Mike Clarke and Dan Whitehouse xxxx

For this post I just want to concentrate on music and performance.

As a band we have had a couple of experiences recently that have been really great, that have made us feel very positive about our musical efforts and outpourings.

The first was the recording session in the church. Dave Shaw kindly let us record in his ”office”, and lent his expertise and knowledge of the space to make some amazing recordings.

https://soundcloud.com/user-814443750/evidence?si=06d78cdeaac2474caeea5fdc5764adea&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

The experience of hearing my voice in such a space did two things: One: to my body… I found myself standing straight, breathing properly, and projecting into the space, knowing that my voice would reverberate around that vaulted ceiling and come back to me. Hearing the recording, I can tell the difference between this and other recordings. Astonishing. I want to sing there again! I’m sure I walked taller for at least three days after!

Two: to my mind… I found my confidence growing, and my self esteem, and my pride in my band mates too. We sounded really good, we all left feeling boosted by the experience, with big smiles on our faces.

The second thing happened this Sunday. We were invited to do a private house gig. We haven’t done many of these, only a couple really. But this one was very special…

It took place in a large house, in the drawing room (not the sitting room sadly). There were about a dozen people there, in comfy chairs, all furnished with tea and cakes (very delicious cakes too). The programme included a very clever and funny poet, and an unaccompanied folk singer. We did four sets of four songs each, so about twenty minutes each set including the intros and banter, interspersed with the other performers, and a nice long relaxed interval for chatting at half time.

Anyway… after the first song received great applause and wonderful comments, I got a bit sweaty-palmed about the whole thing, and needed to take a deep breath. These people were listening very intently to all the lyrics I had written, every note sung and played, every harmony… That’s quite a lot of pressure. I’m not used to that sort of scrutiny. Once I got used to it though, it was brilliant to have our work received so well. People were complimenting me on the lyrics, and picking out particular lines they liked! It could have been a bit overwhelming, but I actually found it rather lovely to be appreciated in such a way. I think we will be asked back another time!

These two events have caused me to think back… we are approaching our tenth bandiversary (because that’s a real word, right?) in 2025 and we have come a long way. We have played some bloody awful gigs in unsuitable places. We have done well, and not so well. We turned up to open mic nights to do one or two songs, just to get out there. At some point in the ten years I remember saying to the guys “I’m not doing this shit any more, we are better than this” …and we are.

I think the events I’ve described above have created another shift for us. We write really good songs together and we sound good. Time to be even more selective about what we do with that.

As well as the above link to the first church recording on Soundcloud, we are also now on Bandcamp, where you can listen to all our recordings so far.

https://thesittingroom.bandcamp.com/

I had too many things in my diary.

They are all things I wanted to do, but they piled up all in one place and overwhelmed me. So I have deleted them. Or rearranged them, or cancelled them completely. In the last year I have slowed up considerably. I think it is mostly knee related, and I can’t wait to get a new one and recover so I can get on with things. Everything is connected. Psychologically, and not just physically, the knee has an effect on everything. On my mood mainly… pain is a real downer. Not being able to get to things easily without planning travel and mobility to the last metre and staircase uses up brain power I would rather spend elsewhere. 

So I have trimmed things down to the things I have to do, and then the things I want to do listed in order of desirability. I used to be able to do loads in a day: a gallery in the morning, meet someone for lunch, or have a meeting in the studio, then a rehearsal in the evening. That is a week’s worth of activity now.

So something has to give.

My priority is now to find a balance between my home and family, and my studio. Certain aspects of my life have made it easy for me to cancel them, by being a pain in the arse. These days if a thing doesn’t bring me joy, I cross it off the list. If it isn’t completely necessary, it goes. This might be temporary, a thing that gets rearranged, or not. I am currently considering no longer doing quite a few things, just to make life easier. I am doing them often because someone else wants me to. That then becomes an easy thing to say no to.

I didn’t set out to have a rant about osteoarthritis and getting older, but that’s what happened, sort of as a result of looking at my work and deciding what is necessary and what is extraneous nonsense and frippery. 

In consequence I am editing, paring down to the essentials… how much can I take away and still retain meaning and coherence?

Of course, while editing and paring down, I still want to create multiples… I want a thousand of these edited, pared down things… does that even make sense?

Did I tell you I was tired?