Wednesday, March 21, 2018


I assume it's boring to read about a person writing. I put four hours of writing in today, and most days will be the same (apart from tomorrow and Friday, but I'll tell you about that tomorrow and Friday).
This evening I went to visit some students in their work placement. As usual I got lost, and Almost Cried (WHY do I always get lost? It's always a different reason; this time, the phone satnav got lost and then the entrance to the building was around the corner, and then....).
The students looked so happy! They are working for an internet radio station where they have their own shows, playing hip hop and drum'n'bass respectively. It's great to see them look so fulfilled doing something that they clearly love. Their mentor seems to be delighted with them too. It made my day. 😊

Recommended: Mark Dion at The Whitechapel Gallery

This is an excellent exhibition. It was a student outing with some MA students; they agreed they would love to have a tree-house. There are both specifically-created and curated comments on hunting, recycling, knowledge, spirituality and conservation. It was really inspiring, a series of Wunderkammers and Cabinets of Curiosities to investigate and pore over.
And look- finches! Not quite as cute as the bass-playing finches at The Barbican a few years ago, but still very sweet and busy. I told the students about Akiko Hada trying to hire a bumble bee for the Fall Of the Queen video, and being quoted £1000. Lester Square and me tried to make a sampled buzz-piano but neglected to realised that bees don't go round saying 'buzz'; when you slow them down their wings flap like a birds! So we ended up just bzzz-ing ourselves.

Fabricating A Serene World

Academics; we fabricate a serene world where the spite, jealousies and abuse that are normal practice in the music industry just don't rear their ugly heads.
As I'm trying to pick my way through the debris of what is real in order to enter the surreal world of putting it all into a scholarly context, I keep a file open next to the formal document where I dump the hair-raising experiences of not just me, but other women I've spoken to.
When I talk to them about the research I'm doing, there is always a story that is related back. Assumption of sexual favours, assault, bullying; it's more than #metoo.
What a humungous effort to put all this to one side and try to write an unbiased and unemotional account of studio practice.
I am absolutely certain that there are 'clean' spaces with 'clean' studio personnel working in them; in fact (does this remind you of anything?) some of my best friends are male producers, promoters and musicians who have the utmost respect for their female colleagues. I have know a lot of them for a long time, and I trust them.


Big congratulations to Paul Sng, whose film on the housing crisis and scandal in the UK is going to be shown on Channel 5 tonight at 10 p.m. in an edited form. Thank you Paul for lending the film so that the song writing students at the University of the East could use it as inspiration for their lovely songs.
This is a powerful, truthful and moving documentary that covers the cities of London, Nottingham and Glasgow in an exploration of what is going wrong and why. The strongest parts are the stories of the people who are being socially cleansed; they are articulate, dignified and respectable, completely unlike the faceless jargon-toting twats who are trying to brand council tenants as a troubled and troubling mob.
I wish I could force-feed this documentary to a chap on the train the other Sunday, who was talking about people from council estates as though they were vermin. It was tempting to give him an earful but the whole carriage was full of such people. Luckily, his girlfriend was completely ignoring him.


For the first time in the nine years that I've lived here, the bird-feeder has attracted little birds, who are tweetling and squabbling right now.
The yard is so dark most of the time, but I found a place where they can see it from the big tree in next door's garden where they hang out and sing all day. This is so exciting!

Tuesday, March 20, 2018


I bought smelly cheese from the cheese shop down the road to support it, because it was empty of customers.
Now I'm frightened to open the fridge; the pong is awful.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

A Dickensian Gig

Farringdon; the snow fell and Jude sang a song about a sighting of the devil in the area more than hundred years ago that turned out to be a drunken woman with a candle up her bum.
Outside, the sodium lights lit up the feathery snow and the occasional siren whisked past (OK, not Dickensian).
Inside, the brave and loyal souls who had defied the weather sat at candle-lit tables; Kath, Jude and I sat in a row and sang three sets of songs, one person after the other. As a performer, this is a really lovely immersive experience. You get to sit next to a song being sung and experience the lyrics almost as a conversation rather than as an audience member. It helps if you love the music.
Thank you for coming out to the gig, you troupers, and thank you Jude and Kath for being excellent songwriters.

Photos by Tonje Tainsh and Rowen Bridler

Saturday, March 17, 2018


What a great song, and what great singing, even though the showbiz is silly.

Betsey Trotwood Tonight

Tonight's the Desperado Housewives night at The Betsey Trotwood- we will be upstairs in the acoustic room. It starts at 8.30, entry by donation. See you there!

Friday, March 16, 2018


Got signed off by the hospital today! Wonderful NHS; they used a new technique where they sewed the bones together instead of using pins. It was odd to be an experiment, but they seemed pleased with their handiwork. I just hope nobody embroidered their initials....
Straight into grafting; I am checking the transcription of the latest producer's interview. She packed so much information into 29 minutes, you can tell she is a good audio editor. She worked as a grime producer for more than ten years. I am going to try to do one more interview, but that's basically it. The publisher wants the interviews integrated into the text, so I have to basically rewrite the whole book. Hard work ahead.
We also spent a lot of time on Wednesday editing the documentary, and on Monday I'll be interviewing our production assistant. Busy times. And Paul Scott Bates, your track is being mixed as we speak.

Writing About the Present Versus Writing About The Past

A book has been recommended in relation to the article I'm writing; one chapter, supposedly about gender and singing, concentrates wholly on Phallocentrism. By halfway through the chapter, it seemed that the author believes completely that all women want is a willy. I had the hilarious impression that he thought that when we conversed together out of male earshot, that one desire was the sole focus of our conversations.
There are two problems about writing about the present; one is my own experiences and the way they make me feel, and the other is that everyone is so convinced that the music industry, and society as a whole, have changed. All I can see is powerful people very cleverly covering up their prejudices, but still feeling exactly the same way underneath.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Rethinking Difference

Although it's been tough working out how to rewrite the submission for an academic journal that I was moaning about the other day, I had an unexpected surprise this morning. The chapter in this book took a very long time to write, and took its toll on the relationship I was in at the time. Writing is not a sociable activity; the main reason I do it (this sort of writing isn't paid) is because it seems to be the best way of consolidating political change. Like lots of other people I march, sign things and rant occasionally on social media, but this type of writing is a slug-paced way of being a bulldozer and changing things in a different sphere of activity..

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Desperado Housewives at The Betsey Trotwood, Saturday

First gig post fractured elbow. Can it be done? I challenge you to come along to find out! With Kath Tait and Jude Cowan Montague, song circlin' and yakkin'.

Four Ay Em

So I woke very early, stressed by the multitude of changes I've been asked to make to an academic article that I've written.
'Just pull out of it; you're a shit writer!', said one voice in my head. 'You have had a traumatic accident and everything looks hard after something like that happens', said another.
I couldn't stand them arguing, so I got up to escape and set to work, not on the article itself, but on the many things that have to be cleared out of the way before my head is in the right place to start.
This is the first morning for five weeks where I've woken up feeling normal. At the weekend I took a mega-dose of Codeine and spoke in slurred speech all day on Saturday; a train journey on Sunday was so surreal I still can't work out how much of it was imagined, and how much real. I do know that a woman on the train deliberately flung her suitcase out of the rack on to what she thought was my broken arm; she had been being very aggressive to the woman sitting next to her during the journey. But she wasn't the weird one; it was the drunken toffs who over-shared details about their forthcoming grand wedding, guests, hen night, shooting arrangements and just about everything else very privileged people talk about. Oh yes, and they were homophobic, too.
The Codeine sent the pain away though, and the laundry is done and put away, newspaper articles sifted through, interviews three-quarters edited, and perhaps tomorrow the floors will be clean too.
And look at it out there- almost spring! The goldfinch has been tweeting since six, and outside the wagtail are waddling down the road. Two sets of soldiers in their uniforms on parade.
Almost time to go to Work Mk 2; no sabbatical there, but I'm not complaining. Not any more, anyway.

Monday, March 12, 2018

Wanting To Pass On News

Sometimes, you have an urge to phone a parent who is no longer around to tell them things. McDad would have loved to hear that Sandie Shaw MBE sent an email to say thank you for supporting her for the award of the honour. McDad loved Sandie and I still have the records of hers that he bought. I love her too. She also did a very short but very interesting interview for my research.