The text is also there should you want it. In the unlikely event that you or someone you know would like to perform it, please let me know how it turns out.

Originating post: you above all things

I wrote the song a year ago, and have since had time to tweak the lyrics and come up with an improved version. What I’m hoping is that it will be performed some time during this Lent.

As soon as its done, I shall make it available as a free download.

Originating post: stations of the cross

we hope you like!

Originating post: Happy Valentines Day!

Originating post: the food of love

There is no chance of my ever becoming a master on any of them. So its as well there are three. That way I can happily blunder along as a George-of-all-trades.

Using the same method, I am now planning to improve my piano skills!

Originating post: my stringed instruments

What a treat! When else do I get the chance to sing, ‘Smile’, ‘From A  Jack to a King’, ‘Molly Malone’, ‘Que Sera Sera’, ‘Lili Marlene’, ‘You Are My Sunshine’, ‘We’ll Meet Again’, and so on, one after another in the same set?

I remember reading an old interview with Bob Dylan in a Songwriting magazine, and at one point he was moved to say, “Arent there more than enough songs already?” Or words to that effect. If someone of his stature can say that, it should give us navel-gazing, tortured soul songwriters pause.

Of course we are not going to stop writing songs. Maybe one day we may inadvertently pen a classic. But in the meantime lets not forget to revisit those fabulous old songs that got us excited in the first place. It sure wont hurt.

Originating post: old songs that we still like

“Dont worry, you sound great in the room.” Why would anyone imagine that is any consolation to a musician? First and foremost a musical performer needs to hear themselves clearly in the way that suits them. How else are they to ply their trade? Their highly developed sense of hearing is the most important of their tools. If they cant hear themselves, they are shooting in the dark. You wouldnt expect a painter or sculptor to work blindfolded, would you?

A good sound engineer understands this and will concentrate to begin with on making the artists happy. They after all know better than anyone what they are going for. Which is what an audience has come to hear. Once the musicians are comfortable and happy with their sound on stage, then the engineer can concentrate on getting the best version possible of that sound to the audience.

By the same token, the most successful performers also understand this, and take the trouble to befriend and cooperate with the sound crew to facilitate getting the sound they want. The best sound engineers are humble and patient, and are rewarded with the trust and gratitude of the performers they work with.

Originating post: monitor mix

Throughout my life, it is music that has been my number one preoccupation. However during some periods of my life, drink has run a close second. Since I was a teenager, I have had a long and turbulent relationship with the demon alcohol.

My family moved to Cambridge in 1967, the summer of love(!). At seventeen and fresh out of boarding school into a student town full of pubs, my drinking career took off without a hitch. For the next several years, despite passionate affairs with most of the available recreational drugs, drink remained the undisputed protagonist in my hedonistic heart.

I moved to London, then the streets of Paris, where hours of playing music every day began in earnest. Still a drink of some kind was never far away. Life’s essentials were reduced to a minimum as all surplus funds were offered up at the altar of Bacchus. Fortified with ‘Dutch courage’, I embarked on one adventure after another throughout my 20s. Having lived to tell the tale, I cannot honestly say I regret my alcoholic exuberance. Without the booze, I may never summoned up the nerve to do many of the things I did.

Nonetheless, as I turned 30, though my lifestyle barely skipped a beat, I began to suspect that my tireless enthusiasm for intoxication was perhaps a little misguided. So I began to take short breaks from the drink. At first this was a miserable business. So ingrained in my psyche was the daily intake of something alcoholic, that the lack of it seemed a pointless denial of my essential nature. Despite moments of clarity, usually early in the morning, these brief periods of sobriety achieved nothing.

In 1982 I moved to New York, and a year later my twin sons were born. By this time I had managed once to stay dry for 6 months. During this period, for the first time I had glimpses of a life beyond or without alcohol. I could begrudgingly accept that I was a nicer person, less prone to anger, and less self centred. I also saw that I was far more able to rise to the challenges of improving as a musician, of doing my job more effectively. I realised that I was never going to write anything of lasting value under the influence of alcohol. And perhaps most of all, I could see that whatever parenting skills I could muster were bound to be handicapped by booze. Still I found it very difficult to sustain, particularly in the late night bars and clubs my line of work took me to. So I began drinking again, with a vengeance.

This pattern established itself for the next 20 years or so. I would give up for up to 6 months, then fall off the wagon with a bang. Feast or famine. Finally in late 1997 I had to admit to myself that what was left of my brain was turning to mush thanks to beer and its pals. In early 1998 I stopped and didn’t touch a drop for three and a half years. For the first year or so I smoked pot nearly every day. Eventually I had to concede that I had just substituted one drug for another. Also, I was not helping myself smoking every day, especially as a singer. So I stopped that too.

This was new territory. As the months went by, I barely thought about drinking any more. My brain was clear and full of ideas. I was obliged to admit I had been regarding life and human society through blinkered vision. I was now appreciating moments and details in a whole new way. There was more simple joy in my life!

I went to a couple of AA meetings but I did not feel comfortable. I am full of respect for what they offer and how they have helped so many people. It just was not my cup of tea. What I agree with them about is that no one can beat addiction on their own. It was during this period that I began revisiting my Christian faith.

Thanks mostly to my mother’s tireless, devout example, I had never entirely abandoned my belief in God. As a teenager intent on having as much fun as possible, I turned my back on my Catholic upbringing, and gave myself up to pursuing my own version of the rock and roll lifestyle. Still, when it suited me I turned to God, or at least acknowledged in my mind his undeniable presence.

There will be another time to chronicle in detail my journey for the last 11 years towards a better understanding and relationship with God. However I can think of no explanation for the transformation in my attitude to drink other than that I have been blessed with supernatural guidance.

When my mother died, I quite suddenly began drinking again. I drank a lot, but even so it was not the same as before. I had come to realise how much I enjoyed NOT drinking and treasured the time thus spent. In the last several years I have drunk less and less to the point where now I might have a drink every few weeks or so, in celebration of something or other, and maybe even have a bit of a party on that day! But I never drink the next day, and on a day to day basis, I am happier being sober and enjoying all the benefits of that.

In the bad old days, I more or less refused to suffer a hangover, and any time I awoke with one, I’d jump back in the river of booze as soon as possible. It took me a very long time to wake up to the fact that postponing suffering of this kind merely ensures greater suffering down the line. For me it is similar to the way society encourages us to work hard to acquire and maintain acceptable levels of comfort. La Grande Illusion!

In his most readable autobiography, ‘Music is my Mistress’, Duke Ellington writes of a moment in his late 20s when after a particular bout of partying he resolved to ‘retire undefeated’. Later in the book he describes enjoying vodka and caviar in some exotic place. This does not indicate that he had weakened his resolve, but rather that it was no longer a habit.

Retire undefeated. I like that.

First published in  My Little Cleaver

Originating post: to drink or not to drink

Two days ago I opened my mandolin case and a clawed birds leg tumbled out. Surprise doesn’t begin to describe my reaction. Right away my fevered brain started throwing up possible explanations.

The first and most likely story seemed that someone put it there at my last gig while my attention was elsewhere. A little strange, but then what would you do with it if you found yourself holding such a thing? If this is the case, I’m wondering if it was someone I know, and whether their intentions were playful or malevolent?

Next the voodoo option occurred to me. A week or so after Easter I took a tumble on my bike and injured my knee. Could this severed limb be part of a fiendish spell that brought about my distress? Who could foster such urges toward me?

I then got to thinking about who or what might have been playing my mandolin while I wasn’t looking. I enjoyed the mental picture of a group of birds picking some bluegrass tunes, hanging out with a jug of liquor, raising hell. Still it would take one hell of a drunken brawl to explain why one of them might have left most of their leg behind.

A lot of questions and no answers. Now I have the bizarre thing and must decide what to do with it! I don’t want to dispose of it just yet as I might never then know how it came to be where I found it. But I don’t want to keep it indefinitely. I don’t like it. There is something creepy about it.

Well, I never asked for a boring life.

first published at My Little Cleaver

Originating post: the claw of doom

In 1982, the then French Minister of Culture, Jack Lang saw his concept of a day to celebrate music and its big part in our lives, come to fruition on June 21. La Fete de la Musique was an instant success. 79% of the population took part either as spectators or musicians.

The Music Day concept quickly spun off and has been joyfully embraced in many countries throughout the world. In Africa, Brazil and Colombia, Music Day is a national holiday.  It has really become an important day in those countries. Last year, more than 110 countries and 430 cities celebrated International Music Day.

In Britain, back in the day, the Minister for the Arts handed the whole endeavour over to a hastily assembled group of music industry veterans.  Perhaps this is why the project got off to such a disastrous start. Music is often best left to musicians and their audiences, most of whom are deeply suspicious of the ‘music business’, perhaps with good reason.

I was lucky. I won a cash prize and had my song played on the radio for a few weeks in 1994 and 1995. The general music loving public in Britain was not so fortunate. Unless they have witnessed ‘La Fete de la Musique’ in France, they have no idea what they are missing.

On the 21^st of June, music is everywhere in France.  Everybody wants to take part.  In schools, pupils dress up in order to go parading and performing in the street.  Volunteers go into hospitals to play music and bring a little happiness to the patients.  Even the prisoners have their Music Day. The bars are full of music lovers, stages are erected in villages for the musical shows, street musicians play and both professional and amateur musicians combine to make this night of the Summer Solstice a joyous event. It is a party that involves everyone. People can find events that feature music they like, and go with the whole family.

I believe not nearly enough was done to get it started here in the UK, and what was done didn’t begin to compare with the level of commitment evident in French local authorities and organisations. The year I won my prize, I was dimly aware that an effort was being made to encourage people to organise local events, but that may have been because I had a vested interested.  Certainly very little actually took place near where I  lived. Still we cannot just blame the organisers for it not taking off. The British, and particularly the English, are a rum lot.

This year, unaccountably on April 16, will see Ireland celebrating its first National Music Day. With their long tradition of sessions and pub music, I suspect the Irish will grasp Jack Lang’s original concept with a lot more heart than poor old England.

I don’t suppose there will ever be another official attempt to make the event a part of English lives. This is a great shame. If asked, the organisers of the 1990s effort would doubtless say something like, “We tried, but no one was really interested.” Apart from the folk clubs and societies, which struggle on valiantly playing to diminishing audiences, the very real English tradition of getting out, making music and dancing in the streets is all but dead. The kind of behaviour that France now enjoys every year could easily catch on here and do wonders for our battered community spirit.

Couldn’t we musicians and music lovers just start quietly, or even not so quietly, doing it ourselves? In a spirit of solidarity with our French cousins, all it would require is that we get out there and play music, for free, and have one hell of a party…in our thousands! I’m certainly up for that.

Meanwhile if you are interested in hearing or having my winning song, here it is.

Originating post: national music day