Sunday, January 15, 2017

Good Morning, Good Afternoon

It's Sunday, day of rest and laziness perhaps.
Here is a preview of one of the tracks from my forthcoming album (to be released in the Spring) which will be released with an illustrated lyrics book. I'm going to review one a week for the next five weeks, replacing them as I go.
I have a gig tonight in Stoke Newington at The Mascara Bar on Stamford Hill.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Sun Lion In Progress


Gig at Mascara Bar Sunday Evening

I'll be playing at The Mascara Bar in Stoke Newington tomorrow night. It's an early show (on some time between 6.30 and 9.30). It's promoted by Fran Isherwood who is a bundle of fun and always chooses interesting acts so expect to enjoy yourself!
The address is 72 Stamford Hill, N16 6XS.
https://www.reverbnation.com/show/20045158

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Monday, January 09, 2017

In Progress

More illustration work in progress. I used to go away in January for a few days; now I just have to do that in my head. This song was written seven years ago and I've tried to record it several times, but only just got a version I'm happy with. Recording's on hold till I get my lost voice back.
I know I left it somewhere....

Remembering Sunshine

Lemmings

I grew these on a little lemon tree but when winter came I picked them and put them on the windowsill, and they didn't get eaten. They do look beautiful in a rugged way.

Café

After getting stuck at East Finchley station with no trains and a ten-mile-long bus queue, plus a report from Offsprog One that her journey to work took two hours today (meaning mine would be three there and three back), I've decided to work in a café like hipsters do.
I think they must work in a different sort of caff because this one is full of yelling babies and their Mums, plus the occasional sinister-looking man probably plotting a murder.
I sent the writing off last night and it has arrived; now I have to wait to see if they will publish it or not. If not, well I suppose that was 30 hours of therapy.
Academics lead topsy-turvey lives. I used to work three part-time jobs when I was financially compromised about three years ago, and I spent whole weekends writing lectures for the different Universities and not speaking to an actual human being at all except by phone. This was very isolating but I had no alternative at the time. One year I spent New Year's Day marking 45 essays which had to be handed back to the students two days later, and last January I spent 50 hours writing a chapter for a book to a deadline. On New Year's Eve I marked six dissertations while the rest of the world celebrated.
Writing songs and playing them is a great way to balance this complete brain-draining life. It's like having a different room in your house where different things happen that make life sparkle. It has its own pitfalls, yes, because musicians are complicated buggers, but so long as the songs turn up on my doorstep I'm not going to turn them away.
Hurl them into outer space, sing them to the sky; songwriters make a protective cloud around themselves that is perceived as creativity, but is actually a sort of armour that repels the pain of life.

Sunday, January 08, 2017

Finished, I Think


I'm Writing

Back to the academic article; I spent five hours on it yesterday and now I'm working on the conclusion. Like writing songs and drawing, getting into the zone takes you to a timeless place. You look at the clock and it's three hours later and your feet are cold.
I had a massive hit to my confidence last year. I felt like a no-person, a discarded tissue that was simple to replace and of no value. Gradually I have realised that I have friends and family who are supportive and loving, and becoming absorbed in making music and art and writing has a huge therapeutic effect. Like many people I am impatient to feel the effects of repair; you have to accept that some days are going to feel especially tough and that you're going to feel the damage as though it only happened yesterday.
Creativity has always been my personal medicine.