web analytics

Music

You are currently browsing articles tagged Music.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid
See me, feel me, touch me, heal me”

Pete Townshend

I suppose it is symptomatic of encroaching old-age that I am unable now to recall exactly why I found myself sitting at my computer last week, searching the InterWebNet for recorded versions of The Who’s “See Me, Feel Me“. I know that this was not what I started out looking for (though of course I can’t remember what that was either!) – neither can I now call to mind the supervenient sequence that ultimately led me to Acton’s finest.

It is a sorry business – this aging!

Though I had, naturally, been well aware of The Who throughout the late 60s I did not truly become a fan until 1971 – when I heard for the first time the mighty sound that is “Won’t Get Fooled Again“. The effect that this had on me was not dissimilar to that which I experienced on hearing – for the first time – “A Day in the Life“, “Eleanor Rigby” or “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds“. I had no idea that music could be like this. In the case of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” I was astonished that a ‘pop’ song could not only have something reasonable to say, but that it could do so with such power, such brio, such… passion! “Won’t Get Fooled Again” is one of those rare tracks that sounds exactly as fresh, meaningful and powerful today as it did when heard first.

See Me, Feel Me” is – of course – a couple of years older, originating as it does in The Who’s ground-breaking rock opera – “Tommy” (the first of a mercifully modest canon!). Through the decades since the album was released in 1969 I have endured a number of different stage productions, as well as gazing slack-jawed at Ken Russell’s flamboyantly eccentric movie version. I have to say that I find the piece as a whole to be somewhat… patchy! There are – of course – familiar highlights such as “Pinball Wizard” and the finale – “Listening to You” – which apparently later found its true niche in The Who’s live set as an act of communion between band and audience.

The opera’s one moment of genius, however, is its penultimate fragment – the aforementioned “See Me, Feel Me” – a fleetingly transcendent distillation of pure longing, which hangs upon the sudden breathless air a still small voice in the eye of the hurricane. This palimpsest crystallises somewhat unexpectedly out of the preceding number – “We’re Not Gonna Take It” – and once it’s brief existence is done bunny-hops through a crunching gear-change into “Listening to You“.

The lyric comprises but one repeated line:

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me”

There is no more because at this point there is nothing more to be said.

Harmonically, “See Me, Feel Me” is also stripped back as far as is feasible – comprising what is essentially a repeated three chord pattern…

|Ebmaj7 |Fsus4  F|Fsus4   F|G

…which forms (apparently!) an Aeolian progression. The suspensions that initially render the phrase tonally ambiguous resolve at the end of each line in a manner that contrives to be at once final and infinite. This is one of those rare musical phrases that is so complete in and of itself that no development is possible. I imagine that Pete Townshend must have tried pretty hard to come up with a way of so doing before giving up and accepting this gift from the gods for what it was – a perfect representation of imperfection! Trapped within itself like a bug in amber this tiny fragment manages thus to express eternal longing. We might wish that it went on for ever. It cannot do so.

You may not be familiar with this orchestral version – featuring Townshend himself on vocals rather than the familiar tones of Roger Daltrey.

See Me, Feel Me: See Me, Feel Me

There are some pieces of music – just as there are some poems, some prose passages – that are so immaculate that one wonders how the author – having achieved this proximity to perfection – could face writing again, for fear of never being able to top – or even match – what had already been accomplished.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be in that position!

Tags: , ,

Image by Andy Dawson ReidI must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

John Masefield

 

My first full length ‘straight’ play (as distinct from the musicals on which I had to that point collaborated) was produced a little more than a decade ago at the school at which I was at that time gainfully employed (though not – it must be said – as a teacher of drama).

The piece was not – in fact – a single play at all, but a pair of linked one-act plays – designed to make up a complete evening’s entertainment.

The setting was Hebridean – the central theme ostensibly concerned the sea – much of the material was drawn from Scottish mythology and folklore. As is the nature of such things – of course – the plays’ true themes were connotative.

When first performed this brace of plays went under the imperceptibly amusing title – “Two Scottish Plays”.  Being a somewhat younger and still relatively callow chap, I thought it amusing thus doubly to tempt the fates! The work was subsequently re-titled – taking its rubric from the second stanza of John Masefield’s “Sea Fever”.

FotoSketcher - DSCF0305Reluctant to abnegate entirely my claims to be considered a composer I wrote a score to accompany the piece – an amalgam of incidental music and songs. Once the production was over I filed everything away as usual and pretty much forgot about it.

I had thus not heard these compositions in a almost decade when I came across the sequence files in a ‘dusty’ digital archive at some point during late autumn last year.

Distance apparently does lend enchantment – which interval can seemingly be chronological as well as spatial. I found myself captivated by a score that I had – in large part – forgotten completely. It is quite startling to come across something from the (relative) mists of time and to wonder how it could possibly have been written in the first place. It may sound egotistical – but I found myself not unimpressed.

I was moved to revisit the score – thinking perhaps to re-arrange it and to re-record it using contemporary technology. My spare(!) time over the ensuing couple of months was thus duly occupied on my Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) of choice – Tracktion – and a great deal of fun was had.

On the extreme off-off-off-chance that the gentle reader might feel inclined to add an auditory experience to the literary – do find herewith a couple of the incidental pieces.

The Littoral – Intertidal: The Littoral – Intertidal

Ciaran’s Jig: Ciaran’s Jig

Tags: , , ,

So…

SoI do not believe that I have ever been – or could ever be – a party to a serious relationship with anyone who was not an admirer of the most excellent Mr Peter Gabriel. Those with whom I have shared such accord will undoubtedly testify to my continuing enthusiasm for the man and his works over an extended period.

The Kickass Canada Girl and I – naturally – established early on that we were mutual admirers, the chief difference between us being that whereas I have genuinely lost count of the number of times that I have seen Mr G perform live in the flesh, she had not – to the point at which we met – had that opportunity at all. In common with many other UK artists the Canadian leg of Mr G’s previous world tours had rarely extended further west than Montreal or Toronto. My worry was that – given that none of us is exactly young any more (Mr G being some four years older than I) – opportunities so to do might prove somewhat scarce.

So it was – back in the summer of 2007 – that the Girl and I found ourselves huddled close together under the pouring rain in the grounds of a stately home in Norfolk. We had trekked all the way up there to catch one of a small number of dates that Gabriel was playing as a warm-up to that year’s WOMAD festival, which itself was unfortunately coincidental with our being out of the country on holiday. Mr. G played a fine set of (mostly) older numbers which we enjoyed hugely – if somewhat damply – but I found myself regretting slightly that the Girl was not getting to see the full ‘show’.

We had the chance to see Mr G again in early 2010. This time he was touring in the wake of the release of his album of covers of other performers’ songs – ‘Scratch my Back’ – with a full orchestra instead of his usual band. Once again a splendid evening was had by all – but it still wasn’t quite the live PG performance by which I had been so captivated on previous occasions.

Finally – this year – came the news that, at the age of 63, Gabriel was touring once more – this time in celebration of the twenty fifth anniversary of the release of his biggest selling album – ‘So’. Gabriel was to be joined on the road by the members of the band that toured the album back in 1986/87 – David Rhodes, David Sancious, the excellent Manu Katché and of course the ever-present Mr Bass, Tony Levin! The show was to climax with ‘So’ performed in its entirety.

The tour reached London this week – sojourning for two nights at the in-feasibly remote ‘O2’ – and the Girl finally got to see what I had observed many times previously. She was suitably blown away!

Who knows how many more tours Mr G has in him? Given his incredible contribution to the arts (as well as to many humanitarian causes) through more than five decades I for one would not blame him for wanting to take life easy from now on. His voice – it must be said – sounds almost better than I have ever heard it, so it may be that he has no thoughts of retiring just yet. We can but hope!

Needless to say – should you ever get the chance to catch him live I most strongly urge you so to do.

 

Tags: ,

Photo by Dave Connor on FlickrShould the rubric to this post make you start asudden – anxious lest you might all unknowingly have ingested some strange hallucinogenic compound which has set your pulse a-racing, your nerves a-jangling and which leaves you wondering if kaleidoscopically hued chameleons might start suddenly to emanate from the light fittings…

…rest easy – gentle reader – relax!

Maybe even – as the au courant slang would have it – ‘chillax’! (Though I find that particular neologism strangely vexing!).

No matter. Bear with me and I will elucidate…

In the course of my occasional series of posts on the subject of seeking out new musics – both here and in Canada – I have previously waxed lyrical on the subject of Celtic fusion. The background to this particular fascination may be revisited here. That particular post extols the talented Paul Mounsey, whose music fuses the influences of his Scottish roots with those of his Brazilian wife.

A couple of weeks ago the Kickass Canada Girl and I were to be found basking somewhat unexpectedly in the sunshine at Twickenham – where we were attending the double-headed fixture that these days launches the Premiership rugby season in the UK. The first of the two games saw London Irish pitched against the Saracens, and the pre-match atmosphere was stoked to a frenzy in part by the splendidly thunderous ‘Irish’ music that was cranked out over the stadium’s PA. At these levels, and with sufficient clarity, such music really can stir the blood and set the pulse racing – not to mention tugging teasingly at the heart-strings of any true Celt.

I wanted, naturally, to know what tune – and by what band – had been responsible for this thrilling elevation of the spirits. As ever the InterWebNet provided the answer – though not without some considerable efforts on my part. The piece concerned turned out to be an instrumental version of I’m Shipping up to Boston by the splendidly named Dropkick Murphys. Their original version sets to music lyrics by Woody Guthrie and features on the soundtrack to Scorsese’s (frankly disappointing) The Departed. The instrumental is apparently widely used as ‘run-out’ music in sporting circles – which comes as little surprise.

Now – the Dropkick Murphys turn out to be American (from Quincy, Massachusetts) rather than Irish – and that itself turns out to be something of a theme once one starts to look for modern Celtic music. The scene in Canada and North America seems to be every bit as vibrant as does that in the home nations.

Further listening suggests that the Murphys – in reality a Celtic Punk band – are a little rough around the edges for my taste, but I am grateful nonetheless that this aural experience has re-invigorated my quest to boldly seek out new musical life forms (well – new to me, anyway!).

Enter the Haggis! No – really… that’s the name adopted by the next ensemble that I encountered in the course of my musical meanderings. Sure enough, they hail from Canada! Their Celtic tinged rock incorporates a wide range of influences and styles and I particularly like some of the tracks on their last two CDs – Whitelake and The Modest Revolution. Here is a taster:

Year of the Rat: Year of the Rat – Sample

It was not, however, until I followed the trail back to Scotland – to Edinburgh, to be precise – that I found what I was really looking for. Please allow me to introduce to you – the inventors of Techno Ceilidh and of Acid Croft (which latter has been described as ‘a fiery and infectious blend of Celtic traditional music and dance grooves that band members like to call “hypno-folkadelic ambient trad!”) – the one and only – Shooglenifty!

What I like about this particular fusion – apart from the infectious rhythms and evocative melodies – is the sheer breadth of influence that the band draws upon to create their unique and adventurous music.

Look – that’s quite enough chat from me… Do your ears (and feet!) a favour and have a listen to these samples. Crank it up!

McConnell’s Rant: McConnell’s Rant – Sample
The Eccentric: The Eccentric – Sample
Walter Douglas MBE: Walter Douglas MBE – Sample

Tags: , , ,

logoWe are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.

Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy

I have posted previously on the subject of songwriting, in the course of which ramblings I have made reference to my ‘home studio’. There was a point at which this facility took the form of a separate room filled with an accumulation of arcane items of musical and recording equipment acquired over several decades. All that remains now is a single keyboard and a computer tucked away in the corner of a bedroom – though you will not be surprised to hear that in power and capability this humble setup outperforms its predecessors many times over.

The keyboard – the only item that remains from the studio’s previous incarnation – is the venerable and iconic Korg M1, one of the very first Music Workstations. Featuring the now almost ubiquitous ‘sampling and synthesis’ sound generation technique to create a high quality audio palette the likes of which had not previously been heard, the Korg M1 was only produced for a 6 year period from 1988 to 1994, but examples of the breed can still be seen – and heard – in use throughout the music business. In one of those ‘eureka’ moments I heard a demo sequence being played on one of these beasts in a music shop one day in the summer of 1988. I had to have one!

By modern standards – of course – the M1 seems somewhat crude and limited. It could, for example, play only 16 concurrent notes – and considerably less if these featured layered or complex sounds. I now use the M1 purely as a keyboard controller to input notes to the computer. The sounds themselves live on, however, since both the M1 and its successor – the Korg Wavestation – along with all of the additional sounds originally found on extension cards, are available as a ‘virtual instrument’ software package for the computer.

The computer itself is the motivation for this post – or to be more accurate, the software that runs on it is such. Back in the 1970s when I was playing in bands the only way to create a permanent record of a song was to hire a studio – by the hour – for as long as it took to get the piece down on tape. As we had very little money and studio time was not cheap we became accustomed to working quickly and dirtily. When the first relatively inexpensive 4 track cassette recorder – the Portastudio – became available in 1979 I was one of the first in the queue. This little device revolutionised home recording and – though the quality was average at best and deteriorated rapidly if tracks were ‘bounced down’ to create more space – I used it extensively for the next two decades.

When, however – following the dictat of Moore’s Law – home computers finally became powerful enough to handle digital recording I quite naturally hurried to investigate the emerging software packages that would turn the machine into a Digital Audio Workstation (DAW). Over the years since I have tried most of the leading contenders but was not – until relatively recently – content that I had found a package that had been truly designed with the musician in mind rather than the computer geek! The solution on which I finally settled in 2007 – Tracktion – has one of the simplest and most intuitive interfaces I have encountered, based on a workflow that mirrors the way that I record music.

Almost inevitably things turned out not to be quite as straightforward as I would have hoped.

Tracktion was designed and created by an English developer, but had been taken up and marketed by a large American musical equipment manufacturer. Around the time that I purchased my copy this manufacturer lost interest in the product, suspended further development and stopped fixing bugs and responding to customer support requests. The software still worked – of course – but would clearly become more and more outdated as time passed. Faced with the prospect of having to start all over again – and probably of having to settle for something I considered inferior – I decided to grit my teeth and to stick with the package anyway. Regardless of these limitations the software has since served me well.

I don’t know what induced me, then – just the other day – to browse the InterWebNet for titbits on my favourite music production software, but I was in for a most pleasant surprise. The original developer- Julian Storer – had set up a new company, purchased back the rights to his creation and re-commenced development work after a 6 year lull. Hooray! Naturally I immediately upgraded my setup to the new version.

This news fills me with a warm glow and I wish the company every success. It is good to have them back.

Tags:

Rattle“Drums and rattles are percussion instruments traditionally used by First Nations people. These musical instruments provide the background for songs, and songs are the background for dances. Many traditional First Nations people consider song and dance to be sacred. For many years after Europeans came to Canada, First Nations people were forbidden to practise their ceremonies. That is one reason why little information about First Nations music and musical instruments is available to us.”

Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Development Canada website

Pursuant to my previous post describing my search for fresh Celtic fusion music it occurred to me that I should revisit an earlier – though less successful – quest to find something similar but based instead on Canadian First Nations’ music.

That such a fusion is relatively difficult to find doubtless has its roots in the policies implemented over a century and a half by the European settlers, the which were aimed at the cultural assimilation of the native peoples of what became Canada. Not only does this (as the ‘Aboriginal Affairs and Northern Canada‘ website makes clear) explain the paucity of knowledge and understanding of an art form that would have been handed down orally, but it also throws light on the way that those forms have been regarded since the revival of interest in the native arts over the last 50 years or so. An art form which enjoys uninterrupted pursuit and interest continues to evolve, to grow and – with good fortune – to flourish. Once the narrative is fractured perception of the art form changes from the present to the past tense and the interest therein becomes primarily historical – concerned with the preservation and nurture of its original or traditional forms. At this point the art form ceases to be a living entity – or is in grave danger of so doing.

The Kickass Canada Girl enquired as to the nature of my researches and – on being enlightened – pointed out briskly that I might have asked her first rather than wasting my time. She had a point. Not only is she a great music lover but she is also – on her mother’s side – part Aboriginal – her band originating in the North Thompson above Kamloops in central BC.

She extracted from her extensive CD collection a platter by Robbie Robertson and the Red Road Ensemble entitled ‘Music for the Native Americans’. Yes – that’s Robbie Robertson of The Band! I was not aware that Robbie – born in Montreal – was of Mohawk descent on his mother’s side – nor had I heard ‘Music for the Native Americans’. I like it a great deal and were you to check out these clips you might find that you do too:

It is a Good Day to Die

The Vanishing Breed

Coyote Dance

Grateful as I am for this discovery – however – I am still very keen to find other musical fusions from the Pacific Northwest. If Canadian – or other – readers know of such I would be grateful to hear of them.

 

It did occur to me to enquire of the Girl how is was that – after getting on towards a decade together – she had only just thought to introduce me to this wonderful music. I decided against! Something about maintaining the air of mystery I suppose…

 

 

Tags: ,

photo by Gary Henderson on FlickrWith the parenthetical pertinence of the fact that this is St David’s Day in mind I will – if I may – expand on the Celtic theme of my last post.

Every now and again I feel moved – more so than I normally do – to  explore and embrace the culture and heritage of what I feel to be the key part of my ancestry. As is common nowadays I can trace my lineage in a variety of directions. One element of my mother’s family originated on the north east coast of England – another from the midlands (from the area around the delightfully English sounding town of Ashby-de-la-Zouch!).

My father was – however – always extremely proud of his Scottish heritage and in this my siblings and I have enthusiastically followed. Just as soon as we were old enough to make the journey (by train – my father could not drive!) from the home counties to the highlands we embarked on the first of an extended series of family holidays in Scotland. My father was a great hill walker and he and I covered many a mile on peaks across a swathe of the country from Ayrshire to the Great Glen. In later life I have made repeated forays to Edinburgh, both for work and for visits – as performer and spectator – to the Edinburgh Festival.

I find there to be a romantic and gently melancholic quality to much Celtic art, be it poetry, prose, instrumental music or song and regardless of whether it be of the Welsh, the Irish or the Scots. There is something particularly haunting about Scottish music, the resonance of which with the lowering hills and the exquisite straths and glens of the highlands and islands from which it originates will be apparent. I find myself from time to time overtaken by a irresistible urge to immerse myself in it. And yes – I do like the skirl of the pipes – but I also love the clarsach, the fiddle and the whistle.

Now – I have some sympathy with those who like their ethnic music pure and who demand that it be reproduced strictly according to tradition, but music is a living language and – like all languages – must be in a state of constant evolution. My own musical interests lie more in the discovery and exploration of new fusions of tradition and modernity. To this end I found myself recently reconnoitering the InterWebNet for exciting new syntheses of music based on traditional Celtic forms.

I found many interesting things – of course – but this was what I liked the most:

Paul Mounsey is a Scottish composer who married a Brazilian and subsequently moved to Brazil. His music is thus a fascinating fusion of classical Scottish themes, Gaelic voices and Brazilian percussion. His biography on Wikipedia reads thus:

Paul Mounsey (born 15 April 1959) is a composer, arranger and producer from Scotland.

He lived for over 20 years in Brazil. A graduate of Trinity College, London, where he studied with Richard Arnell, he has written for film, television, theatre, advertising and also for the Latin American pop market. He lectured for a short while at Goldsmiths College before moving on as creative director of Play It Again, one of the biggest commercial music houses in Brazil. He has also written articles on various aspects of music. He’s written pop hits for Mexican boy bands, has received commissions for chamber and multimedia works, has lived with and recorded the music of indigenous communities in the Amazon rainforest, and to date has released five solo albums. Paul’s music has featured in the television and cinema adverts for tourism boards such as VisitScotland. He is currently based in Los Angeles working as composer, orchestrator and programmer in the film industry.

Have a listen to these samples and see what you think:

Wherever You Go:              Wherever You Go – Sample

Nahoo Reprise:                   Nahoo Reprise – Sample

Taking Back the Land:        Taking Back The Land – Sample

Senses – 2011:                  Senses 2011 – sample

Tags: ,

Every so often I feel the urge to listen to some ‘new’ music.

One of the drawbacks of growing older – at least where listening to ‘popular’ music is concerned – is that it is all too easy to lose touch with recent trends, persisting instead with that which one already knows. The reasons for this are pretty obvious. Much new music is aimed at the young – both in terms of content and in the way it is marketed. This should come as no surprise of course, since the young comprise the main market for it, but the result can be that the rest of us – and our money – are left out in the cold.

We make up for it in many cases by buying new versions (or just new copies) of the music that we listened to in our own youth. Many of us believe in any case that the music scene has steadily gone downhill since whenever that was, and that what remains is but a pale shadow of those glory years. Much recent music seems artificial – driven by the wants of TV ‘talent’ shows – and the rest has steadily become more and more self-referential (pop indeed eating itself) as the same pool of material is repeatedly re-mined, re-sampled and re-used in ever more dilute proportions. It is worryingly difficult to distinguish much sign of the creativity and imagination that pervaded the music of my youth – though it is, of course, pretty difficult to see anything at all through these rose-tinted shades!

I am – naturally – making far too much of this. There is plenty of interesting music around, but with the decline of the once accepted methods of production and dissemination – record companies, record stores, radio playlists and so forth – and the rise of the InterWebNet as a tool for publishing, acquisition and the discovery of music, it is surely much less likely that any gems out there would these days be discovered by chance.

I used to listen to music on the radio a great deal. I no longer do so, as I find most of the UK music stations pretty intolerable. I fear I have reached the age when I prefer to listen to the spoken word – or at least I prefer to listen to the BBC’s radio 4 – which is much the same thing. Oddly I find music radio in Canada to be considerably more agreeable. There seems to be less ‘ghettoisation’ of music into apparently irreconcilably disconnected genres.

Still – as I said at the very top – I felt the need to discover something with which I was not yet familiar. I knew the broad type of music that I hoped to find and – armed with a couple of suitable examples from my existing catalog – I ventured into the digital world. Now – this is something that the InterWebNet is good at, though one has (quite rightly) to work pretty hard to get the desired results. What did we do in the days before we could ask the oracle questions such as “What else is a bit like this, that I might like”?

“Cut the crap”, you say “and just tell us what you found!” Now, now – don’t be impatient…

OK – ladies and gentlemen – I give to you – the ‘Poets of the Fall’.

This Finnish band (yes, really!) – who are pretty much unknown in the UK and Canada as far as I can tell – create a splendidly melodic blend of old and new. They seem to be big in Germany and India (!) where they tour extensively, but they don’t appear as yet to have played in the UK and they have certainly not made it to Canada.

I like them. They may not be your bag, but why not give them a listen? Here are some clips:

‘Late Goodbye’

‘Sleep

‘Heal my Wounds’

Enjoy!

 

Tags:

The twighlight shadows the horizon
The lustre fading from the day
I’m stranded on a shrinking island
And you are half a world away

The hourglass has changed direction
The silver sand sliding away
Time running slow on this connection
And you’re still half a world away

Plus ça change
Plus c’est la même chose

How did we come to this position?
If you had known would you have stayed?
Should I have raised more opposition
To living half a world away?

Plus ça change
Plus c’est la même chose

Your shining face cuts through the darkness
And I am half a world away

Plus ça change

Tags: , ,

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention

William Shakespeare

I have long been fascinated by the nature – and the mystery – of creativity.

In one way or another – and for the greater part as an amateur – I have been a writer for as long as I can recall. I have read throughout extensively on the arts of writing and composing but – although I have learned much about technique – I still don’t understand how the muse itself functions. Perhaps no-body does.

In my youth and young adulthood – throughout the 70s and early 80s – I played in bands for which I was often the principle songwriter. Later – through my background as a musician – I became involved with youth theatre, and shortly thereafter started to write musicals. I wrote – or co-wrote – six such shows (including a re-working of Hamlet set in Thatcher’s Britain!) the majority of which were performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. When I ran out of collaborators willing or mad enough to take on such ventures I turned to writing straight plays instead.

One of the great hopes for my retirement to BC is that I will have the time to devote to writing properly. A full length play will currently take me 2 or 3 years to complete (though of course a play is never actually finished) as I have to fit the writing around work, commuting and sleeping – all of which consume far more of my life than does creativity… at least in the temporal sense. I have only once had the opportunity to write ‘full-time’, as it were, when a (sadly) quiet and lonesome Christmas fortnight enabled me to pretty much complete the first draft of an adaptation of Wolfram von Eschenbach’s ‘Parzival’. Sounds pretentious… was a lot of fun!

Recently I have spent a considerable chunk of my spare (ha!) time re-working some of my songs that were written over the past four decades. The driver for this was that my home studio – which at one point was indeed a room full of equipment but which has now shrunk to a single keyboard and a computer – has reached a point in terms of the technology involved that reasonable quality recordings can be made single-handedly and without great expense. Indeed, when now I meet old friends with whom I once played we often find ourselves discussing – somewhat longingly – what we might have achieved had we access to the technology that the young now take for granted.

All this is of course an aside. Back to the muse…

I have not written a new song for nearly 10 years. Until now – that is.

When we stayed – on my recent visit to Victoria – for a week in Oak Bay, it happened that the house in which we were living contained an upright piano. As Kickass Canada Girl had to work on some of the days that we were there I took advantage of being at a loose end to sit at the keyboard and to doodle around (extemporise!) a little. To my surprise a couple of interesting sequences popped out, and when I discovered the following day that I could still recall them quite clearly it became apparent that an new song might be emerging. A 20 minute wait for the Girl in Serious Coffee in Oak Bay Village gave me the subject for the song, and a little further head scratching produced a workable lyric for the first verse and – as a bonus – an idea for the chorus. All of this before she arrived…

Back home in the UK I thought I should see if I could get something down. I have become accustomed to spending a month or more working on a track trying to get a decent recording, but this one sprung to life in no more than a couple of weeks of snatched moments, and that included writing the bridge and instrumental passage that seemed to be required. I have become used to the incidence of happy accidents during the recording process, but in this case they not only all worked out well, but added a couple of layers of meaning to the song that certainly didn’t come from the conscious mind.

At this point the Girl arrived from BC and we traveled to Provence. I thought I might find a little time to work on some more lyrics but was greatly surprised that – in a spell of no more than 30 minutes yesterday – the rest of the song appeared “as if by magic”! Now all I need to do is to record some vocal tracks (regrettably only with my unfortunately scratchy voice) when I get back to the UK and – hey presto!…

It is not the most original song ever written, but I think it works quite well for what it is. Have I learned anything new about the creative process? Not really – except that one should never, ever think that the muse might have deserted one – no matter how long since one last created. My father – having given up composing when a young man – came back to it in his retirement.

There is definitely a lesson there…

Tags: ,

« Older entries § Newer entries »