Must. Stop. Whining.

Over the last two weeks, a bit of a pattern has formed. I've spent a while moaning about how little time I've had to give this project any attention, then I've moaned about the quality of the finished song, only to have other people say they liked it.

This could mean I'm one of nature's complainers (true), I'm not a very good judge of my own stuff (I suspect this is also true), or I'm fishing for compliments and reassurance (if this is true, it's subconscious, but I'm not discounting it entirely).

I think there was an intention of demonstrating how little effort or quality control all this required, and that a hastily dashed-off 'that'll-do' song was inferior to one that took real work and crafting, but maybe I'm wrong. I honestly don't know. If people are obliging me with compliments because they think I'm being self-deprecating in order to seek reassuring praise, nice as it is to receive it, that was never my conscious intention.

I'm trying to be as objective and honest about the songs as I can. I do write songs I really like, and others I think are less good. But my tastes don't always tally with the listeners'. I tend to favour linguistic, harmonic, melodic and structural complexity, little spun sugar confections that have been crafted slowly, with delicacy and intricacy. Listeners often prefer simpler, more rustic affairs, and I can understand that - I'm looking at songs from the perspective of what it took for me to make them, whereas others just listen to them for how they sound. And rightly so.

As a result of this, I've come to several conclusions:

1) We can take it as read that the one-song-a-week timeframe is not where I'm at my most comfortable, so they're always going to feel rushed and semi-formed to me.
2) There's no point in me voicing this any further.
3) From now on, I'm not going to make any personal qualitative judgement on the songs; feel free to say nice things by all means, but not to counter my own negative responses to the material. Compliments are better when they haven't been fished for.
4) I'm going to try not to worry about treading tired ground, and am going to embrace a bit of simplicity and rustic charm.
5) Actually, I'm not going to worry about any aspect of this. If I can knock out a song a week - any song - that's all I have to do to fulfil my end of the deal. It could be a repetetive 3-chorder about toenails; it really doesn't matter.

So. I'm going to do one now.

Hooray! It's Rubbish!

It's been a difficult birth. I was on the verge of ditching it and starting again, but I've decided not to, partly because I've run out of time, and partly because, as I said before, the finished song isn't the important thing. However, it is crap.

I quite enjoyed the 'direct input' solid-bodied method, and I'll probably use that again at some point- though I'd probably have to get a soprano if I was to use it more than once more.

I won't be using my teenage songwriting methods again though. Picking a relatively commonplace, simple structure might work for some, but not for me. The music ended up sounding like 'Ordinary World' by Duran Duran, and the vocal melody ended up reminiscent of 'Times Like These' by the Foo Fighters (which means, by extension, that Duran and Foos sound like each other. Who'dathunkit?).

It was derivative, adolescent, whiney, bland crap, and at any other time I'd have cast it into the abyss.

But I still have the bowling alley in my head, tomorrow I'm off to Cheltenham, and I'll be returning to a houseful. I don't have time to do anything else. So it'll have to bloody do.

I've done one. That's enough.

There:

http://www.box.com/s/pxtlx6sufq1cprzhnqin

'Stealth' Recording

As I've previously moaned, the writing and recording of this week's song has had certain restraints placed upon it. It's forced me into adopting methods of 'stealth' recording I haven't used since I was a teenage insomniac with easily rattled parents. The double bass is packed away, as are most of the acoustic instruments, and the only method I can use to get music down without disturbing others or being disturbed is to use solid-bodied electric instruments, plugged directly into the recording device.

This does mean, however, that I'm rather limited as to what arrangement I can use. I have an electric baritone uke, tuned re-entrant G, and an electric bass that was so bad, it only became vaguely useful once I'd ripped out the frets and sanded the bumps out of the fingerboard. I also have an electric guitar, but I want to avoid making guitar-based songs if possible: I don't want to fully revert to my teenage years. The electric baritone uke is quite guitary enough, thank you very much.

I'll be reverting to my teenaged vocal style too, out of necessity. Quiet, whispery, breathy. I won't be belting it out. That is also a product of the necessity of not disturbing anyone, whereas during my teenage years, it was only partly that, and partly terrible self-confidence issues.

At this point, I haven't written the song yet, but because of these constraints, and my ways around them, I have a fair idea of how the music is going to come out. It's likely to be down-tempo, introspective in tone, simple, restrained and full of space, probably based around a single chord progression, repeated, with two-finger chords and open string drones. The lyrics will probably end up reflecting that. They'll probably be folksy and impressionistic, rather than the more direct style I prefer nowadays. I just hope it doesn't revert too much to the proto-Emo style of my salad days - or the 'wallpapery dirges', as my punk brother used to describe them.

The style is also shaped by time constraints. instead of being able to put a chunk of time aside to do it, as I normally do, I'll be nipping back and forth doing little bits where and when I can. It's likely I'll be abandoning my favoured pad and propelling pencil and writing the lyrics on my phone, maybe even in the loo.

Hence, it'll have to be simple, or I'll lose the thread in the long gaps between short sessions.

I will miss having soprano uke on the track, but I don't have a solid-bodied, electric soprano anymore. Despite recently feeling that I have too many ukes, I'm feeling the absence of that specific thing. Even a cheap and cheerful bog-standard Eleuke, Clearwater or the like is mighty tempting at the moment, but I sold my last solid soprano when my son moved out. He's back now (albeit temporarily), and I'm suddenly realising how useful it was. I'll admit, I have been hovering over BIN buttons.

Anyway, I've got a few mins left, so I suppose I'd better start cracking on with that chord progression while I can. Just don't make me tidy my room, you horrible gits.

Mad About the Boy

Last week, I moaned about being up against it because of time constraints and not being in the mood. What a fool I was. Karma then decided to deliver me such a bitchslap that my head has almost disengaged from my neck.

My 19-year-old son has temporarily (please God, let it be temporarily) returned to the loving bosom of the family, complete with the swirling miasma of chaos, noise and confusion that perpetually surrounds him. Suddenly, there is no room; instruments have been packed and stored to make way for bin liners full of rags. There is no time, as every waking moment is taken up by discussions on everything from his finances and his washing to his lovelife and his friends, Marvel and Tarrantino, Wild Beasts, the meaning of life, and how terrible Muse are. The bowling alley has been reinstalled into my head. There is no privacy; he is omnipresent.

Of course, this means that her son's presence in these environs give The Evil One a legitimate reason to begin calling the house once more. So she has been. A lot.

On top of that, the time constraints that were already there haven't disappeared. Time, space and headspace have all shrunk to a pinprick. Solitude, calm and quiet contemplation are rare jewels indeed.

If I manage to produce anything this week that consists of more than a random thrashing at an instrument, accompanied by a persistent howling noise, I'll consider it a miracle. I have an unexpected half hour to myself right now, so I'm doing this. I haven't got time to write this and a song. Hopefully, I'll squeeze in an hour tomorrow and do it then.

The First Test

Today is song day again, and it's the first time since starting this when I feel a little up against it. The first couple of weeks of January are always a little bit less busy for me, with a lighter workload, the post-Christmas lull, etc. Now, however, things are starting to gear up again. I'm having a very busy week, and it's only going to get busier in the coming weeks and months. The time available to sit and write songs is shrinking. Other priorities are starting to snap at my ankles. Add to this that this is the first week since starting this project that I haven't really been in the mood, and it suddenly feels a little harder.

It could potentially be argued, then, that there is a certain sense in charging people and being paid for the process, in order to keep it high priority, but I still don't buy that. The temptation to throw out any old tat and fulfil obligations with as little consideration as possible hasn't yet been higher - though I suspect it will get higher as external pressures mount - yet, I can't see how having to justify a payment is going to do anything to alter that. It may make you a bit more careful about mentioning it, but you'd feel it just the same.

In fact, the thing that makes it easier is the knowledge that I'm under no obligation to do it at all. It's just a challenge I've set myself, and I could stop at any time. If I had to do it to fulfil a financial obligation, it would suddenly be feeling very much like putting a shift in at a factory or somesuch; it would start feeling depressingly like work. I thank my lucky stars I don't owe you anything. I can crack on with this week's song, lighter of heart because of it.

Which is just as well, as I've decided to make the song quite dark. Last week I did a song with quite an upbeat, optimistic lyrical content, and I felt it was a bit of a dud. There were people who liked it, but I didn't feel it was quite 'me' - a view expressed by a couple of other people too.

Of course, that hardly matters. The finished song isn't the point, and public reaction to it barely figures. It's the process that is important. The point is to write a song a week, record it, and disseminate it, free of charge, to whoever wants it. That's the principle. What the actual song is and whether you or I like it is irrelevant. No offence.

Anyway, it's 12:45pm and I want this done by 2pm at the latest - I have things to do - and so far, all I've got is the idea I want it a bit darker, a blank page and a couple of hours. There's no music running round my head, no lyrics, nothing.

This should be interesting.

*UPDATE - from blank page to uploaded mp3 took exactly one hour. Properly thrown together, only four tracks, only one vocal.

The song is called: 'A Pat on the Back (We're all rubbish), and here it is:

http://www.box.com/s/2mz55x6tfdharxexqdy7

Week Three Song

I figured if I was going to use anger and annoyance as my only motivator in songwriting, I'd end up having a coronary before too long, never mind the songs going down the tubes. So this week I wrote a particularly optimistic song called: 'On a Day Like Today (anything's possible).'

It was inspired by a friend called Mary Agnes, who is the single most upbeat person outside of a religious cult it is possible to meet.

I'm kind of getting used to my preferred setup, of soprano uke, baritone uke, double bass and vocal, so I added a melodica for a bit of a change. I think that arrangement might become my preferred generally (anyone want to buy a guitar or a mandolin?). It's almost feeling like a band.

The setup:

Anyway, here's the tune:

http://www.box.com/s/0xpmjzhbgsxmzykxid2a

Unexpected items in the Bagging Area

Last night's pre-bed noodlings wove their magic, as they are sometimes wont to do, and I woke up this morning with a fully-formed new song on my lips. Now, I'm waiting for the delivery of one or two items for the impending tour, but unless the Man from Parcelforce ends up doing a sterling impersonation of the Man from Porlock, it's pretty much in there, and I'm rather pleased with it.

It's still rough, and needs considerable panel-beating, but it has the potential to be a cracking little number - kind of late 50's Sinatra in style. Probably one in ten songs I write get the kind of thumbs-up I gave this one.

What I found interesting about it, however, was that my first reaction was: "There's no way I'm putting this one out as a 'weekly freebie'. I'm saving this one."

So, I'm beginning to change my Quality Control perameters; the reject bin has been relabelled the Giveaway Bucket, and those diamonds in the rough are being filtered away to safety.

The implications of this are manifold. Would I only release the B-stock if they weren't freebies? Am I in the proper position to judge what's a good song and what isn't, even when I wrote them? What am I going to do with the A-stock? If I only release the seconds, will people think that's the best I can do? Does that matter?

I don't have the answers; I'm just ruminating out loud really. I don't even think I'm trying to make a specific point - I just thought it was an interesting development.

Another interesting development leads me to concede at least one point. The sudden need to come up with a new, original song - as well as at least one new piece of writing - every week has stimulated creative muscles long-since withered and ossified. I'm noting down ideas I would have previously allowed to slip back out of my mind, and my ears and imagination are more open. If it continues in this way, I think it likely I'll be a far better songwriter this time next year than I am currently, and possibly more creative, self-disciplined and productive in general.

Of course, the recipients of the freebies may not necessarily directly feel that benefit. We're back to the implications of the internal Quality Control Inspector. We'll have to see how it pans out.

The final interesting point is raised by the notion of cheating. It would be very easy to cheat at this, and I'm sure when my schedule is ramped up to fever pitch later in the year it may be very tempting, but I find I have no desire to do that. I've got notebooks going back years, containing literally hundreds of songs that have never seen the light of day. It would be all too easy on a busy week to pull one of those out of the bag. But I won't. Partly, I won't because cheating this challenge would be cheating myself, and would weaken, even if only in my mind, the principle that has driven me to do this. Partly, I won't because the vast majority of those songs are bloody awful, which is why they've never seen the light of day in the first place. Anything I'd consider good enough to use, or even to cannibalise, I'd rather put somewhere else than in the weekly freebie bin. So I won't cheat.

Anyway, stuff to do. I'll probably do the next song on Thursday - it's always a good day for it. It probably won't be called '50 Ways to Leave Your Mother' as someone suggested - the Quality Control Inspector wouldn't stand for it.