SOME OF DEM DEAF AND SOME OF DEM BLIND

Maybe it's the timing, maybe it's my frame of mind at the moment, maybe, like one's sense of smell or one's sense of taste, my sense of sound is actively inciting emotions and feelings upon me, suggesting a time and a place in my history, and in this case, inducing a stage of lament. A lament for the past, for my youth. With this sense of sound, which is so evident in music, my thoughts and reflections are rose-tinted for the good old days of my youth , in the seventies and eighties. After just over two months of being blog writingly barren, the motive for finally putting my fingers to the keyboard was, yet again, music. What a hold and an influence it must have on me, music is , and always has been, pervasive in my life. Shaping my moods, my internal atmosphere. There are times, very rarely, when i cannot listen to music at all. I feel those time are usually when i am so emotionally spent that music is just too invasive or painful to even hit the start button on the CD player, when only silence will do. But, at the moment, it is a softer option of that extreme, the sad lament for past, things lost and things never to return. But, then again, the more i think about it, the more i realise that not only music seems to reflect my moods at any given time, but can also influence them. How many times have you actively chosen a piece of music to change your mood? I know it must be thousands for me. And with instant access to music on the Internet, it's so easy just to play your fave tunes. I even stumblingly tried dj'ing and mixing with two windows of You Tube the other night, and it worked (sort of!), got the toes tapping anyway!

So, it appears that music is a two-way street, it can influence and much as we can influence our selves by the choice of music we listen to. Not exactly a Revelation, but i know what I'm going to do now, put myself under my own influence with the use of music, I'm going to revel in the energy, the excitement and the life and hope for the future, that we all drew upon from the music of our youth. So, with a middle-aged-bone-creaking rebel cry i will sing to you, 'go tell your friend, we come again, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, another one bite the dust, some of dem def and some of dem blind, some of dem satta and looking for a sign, Nothing never done before the time, time, time'. 8-)

And The Next

Here I am,
Right now,
Right here right now,
And I'm panicing again, Is this really it?
Is this what it's come to?
Drifting aimlessly through the ether,
Picking up cigarette ends,
Seeing if I can get them to light up,
Get a hit,
Get some smoke down into my lungs.
Chasing dreams,
That turn to screams,
In the middle of the night,
My head,
My heart.
Hot sweats on cold nights,
Fear of the light,
Of fight or flight,
Of the night,
Of the day,
Of the way,
It's come to this,
Of the piss,
Of the hiss of stream,
That kills the dream,
That starts the scream,
I hear what you say,
As you start to sway,
It's the way,
It goes, I say,
this day,
And the next,
And the next,
And the next.

DEAR DIARY

I guess that writing a blog is just like writing a diary, but without a lock on it. Obvious, I know, but it wasn't that many years ago that a diary would be written to be kept a secret. Or was it? Has the Internet, and more importantly, the blog, given everyone the free rein to expose their innermost thoughts and feelings in a very public arena? I know my writings are specifically written for public consumption, but also, in some instances, intended for specific individuals. Lets face it, if a blog is just a public diary, it's only right and proper that one should carry on a thread of tradition, and write about the people and things that one knows and emotionally impact upon our lives. It is probably even more of a diary writing tradition to be cryptic about certain elements, mainly people, when writing a blog. I know I do.

It is not exactly breaking news that the centuries-old art of novel writing has been used as a glorified diary vehicle, to pass on messages (hidden or otherwise), or life observations, over the space two or three hundred pages, rather than the condensed blog version of just two or three pages. We are in an age of such short attention span, with the such 'busy' lives we all lead, it is no wonder that there is such a demand for bite-sized novels in the shape of blogs. I must say that it is easier to space out to a column in one of the colour supplements than settle down with a novel, when there's some time to read. But it's a lot like snacking, there's an instant hit that fades very quickly, only leaving one dissatisfied and wanting to go back for more. Better to have a full meal that gives one a small spectrum of flavours and leaves one so much more satisfied.

There was a time when my general attention span was at 'soundbite' level only, but increasingly, i am more inclined to settle down for an evening's good novel reading rather than read a colour supplement or watch the TV. I know I'm not doing myself any favours advertising the strengths of a full novel rather than the blog's micro hit, as this is my chosen medium to do my own writing. Perhaps there's room for both, perhaps the two art forms are different? Whilst blogging could still be shorthand for a novel, there's a time and a place for both? If i read a novel i hope that i am able to relate to the characters and go on a bit of an adventure with them, and maybe giving the story some impartial analysis once it's all finished. Whereas a blog is more of a signpost for a reason, or reasons, cryptic or otherwise. Even better would be if a blog would be cryptic about me! That's it! I have yet to feel the full benefit, or curse, of a blog. As i am without any great number of friends or relatives that bother wasting their time on such unread scribblings. There are but a handful of people i know that bother. Perhaps, because like me, they are usually personal ramblings that very few others are really interested in reading.

It is possible that there is a good percentage of us out there, that are agonising about our chosen method of expression, and how it is received, what it is saying to people, whether it is pulling some emotional strings or not, most importantly, by those we know and love. We all try and express ourselves somehow, it's not only writing. I have spoken about this before, not just about expression through writing, but music, dance, whatever art form one chooses. There has been mixed, and emotional reactions. Which is what we all want, a reaction, is it not? It certainly is for me. Most of my life i have realised i need to express myself in one creative way or another, and sometimes, just sometimes, there's been a connection between me and someone else that has made it all worth it. I'm not talking about praise, although praise has a place that is good, but an understanding, an empathy, an intimacy, a movement of the heart, that is what is so important to me. It is real, it helps me understand that I'm not just stumbling along in the dark, on my own.

I know that the few published columns that I prefer to read, are usually writings that i can relate to in a rather abstract way, albeit with a recognised understanding of the writer's general emotional thrust of the piece concerned. So perhaps it's time that someone out there should write about me, that would thrill me and horrify me in equal measure. So there's a challenge, not only could someone write a blog piece that is personal to me by virtue of me knowing the writer concerned (that means start writing a blog, friends and family), but also that the writer concerned could be so cryptic about their writing that only i know that it's about me.

Go on, I challenge you, make my day, not only would I see myself in print, by another author, but also I will recognise, and be thrilled, that someone has been bothered enough to read the stuff I've written , but also reacted to it in a creative way.

Perhaps all of this expression lark, whether it's any good or not, is all about love. The love we all need or desire. Perhaps novel writing , and blog writing, is just a method of reaching out for love, expressing our experiences of love and the all encompassing spectrum of that wonderful emotion. Wonderful, that is , if you're getting it, hell on a stick if you're not. Maybe I'm just seeing all of this from my limited perspective, perhaps it is just me that is searching for love and understanding? Surely there are so many other reasons why someone would waste all this time on writing things down, that then goes out into the ether, never to be seen by anyone that might have an interest in their own involvement in the scenario. I like to think that what continues to motivate me is a thin vein of optimism that runs deep inside me, keeping me moving when all seems grey. This is , however, a two way street, there is always a possibility that you are the chink of light shining through the slate grey clouds. So go on, show me some love, write to me, about me, anything, just write.

Pressure Roots Hi-Fi meets Toxic Sound System at the Falmouth Rugby Club, Saturday 27th November

To my mind, there is nothing, other than nature itself that is more heavenly bound or heavenly inspired, than the creative endeavour and expression of mankind. Whether it is painting, drawing, building, singing, acting, music, dancing and so many other art forms, there is a colour, depth and feeling conveyed in all these endeavours that can give one the desire to be drawn deeper into it.

Music, as you may have gathered, is just one form of creativity that holds a special place in my heart. When I am moved by certain music, my desire is to be drawn into it, and share it, with equal measure.
This Saturday’s meeting of musical minds, in the heavyweight form of Pressure Roots Hi-Fi and Toxic Sound System, was a marathon length of fine roots reggae, and beyond. Two conscious rigs, weaved together with dub sirens and traditional one turntable set-ups, took their turns at half hour sets, moving on to two track duals, through the five hour set.

As moths drawn to a flame, the rhythm, richness and physicality of sound drew more and more to the dance floor, and with the change from one rig to another, the beat’s epicentre shifted the few metres from the forefront of one rig to another. Those that sought that amplified spot shifted also with sound, inspiring a hardcore few to move for hours without a break, with only the gap between records for a short breather. As with many forms of music that truly inspire movement, dance, tonight’s was no exception.

We are fortunate to have, not only one, but two home-grown high quality reggae rigs, that deliver conscious sounds, to the town of Falmouth, with a passion and understanding that deserve the acclaim they are due. Next time you see the flyers around town, or Facebook, for any of their gigs, check them out, and don’t forget your dancing shoes.

WASTED

Oh the tangled web we weave. There is song, from decades ago, that has words in it that bear such a close resemblance to the consistent thread through my life at present, 'but I'm just a soul whose intentions are good, Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood'.

It is finally dawning on me that my interactions with those around me, with regards to misunderstanding, is genuinely a two way street. Although sometimes there's roadworks with confusing signage and much disruption, causing delays, at times, but yes, it's a two way street.
My understandings of my interactions with those that get close to me, are very often misunderstandings, because my interpretations are clouded by my desires. These desires probably bear no relationship to the reality of the situations i find myself in and the interpretations i give them. Equally the person, or persons concerned, are probably doing the same thing! The result is still the same though, i feel such enforced solitude, due to my inability, or bad timing, to establish clearer understandings and acceptances of those i seek these things from.

So how does one get around these cloudy perceptions and misunderstanding? If only i knew, i would write a hefty coffee-table book about it, and make sure it was on sale for Christmas, sell millions of copies and then i could afford to buy some friends!!! But seriously, i think my personal problem, and I'm not speaking for everyone here, is that i place too much importance in words, gestures, deeds, text messages, drunken outbursts, beautiful moments, frustrating disagreements and practically any other type of interaction with the good the bad and the ugly people in my life (i hasten to add I'm finding difficult to think of anyone that is ugly in my life, except for the fleeting glimpses of my own reflections!) So, maybe it is down to me to curb my desires? Having said that my desires are very often based upon my needs, and to that end it is difficult to curb a desire that is a need. It has been said that wisdom is being at peace with what one does have, rather than being frustrated and upset by what one doesn't have. I would like to think i agree with that sound philosophy, and it is sound. I do have a lot of things in my life that i am thankful for, but there are other fundamental things that i don't have. It's those things that are at the root of my desires/needs. So how does one stop being frustrated and upset by the continual search for these desires/needs remaining fruitless? Be patient, that's it, be patient. Let these things come to me. So, i'm waiting..... still waiting.....still waiting, oh sod this, lets just get wasted, that'll solve everything.

COLOUR SUN and SIMON DRINKWATER at THE JACOBS LADDER INN, thursday 18th November 2010

The thing about Nick Drake’s music is that, even after 36 years since his untimely death, it remains mystical, and to that end, it is left entirely open to interpretation, to both the listener and would-be performer alike, with sensitivity or otherwise. This Thursday evening’s tribute to the late composer and performer, Nick Drake, was undeniably performed with the former. For those that had the good fortune to be present, it was one those very rare cases of being in the right place at the right time, when those that will hear about it after the event, will kick themselves for not having been among the chosen few that where present to soak up the warm and loving music that was pervasive throughout the evening, a musical experience that money could never have paid for.

From the very first ripples of sweet harp music right up until the last cover number, performed by Jeremy, Fiona and guest Simon, under the umbrella of Colour Sun, most, if not all watching and listening, where spell bound.

I defy you to tell me last time you where in a pub when a musician managed to silence the whole room for 15 minutes and only two numbers. That is exactly what Simon Drinkwater did, opening the evening with his graceful, subtle and passionate harp playing. To say that you could hear a pin drop in the spaces would have been no exaggeration. Was it the unusual choice of instrument, or the heart-felt rendition of the songs, or both? It is hard to tell. All I know it is that it is the only time I have been in a pub when people have rushed out of the door in order to answer their mobile phone, so as to not disturb the magic.

Colour Sun, with Fiona on fretless bass, Jeremy on various open tuned guitars and Simon guesting on guitar (with and without violin bow) and glockenspiel. Continued the evening with a mix of their own numbers and a handful of Nick Drake covers. I’d like to think that Nick himself where looking down on the evening and thinking that if he’d wanted a group of musicians perform with him, these where the ones he would have chosen. If for nothing else but because all the songs where performed with equal passion and intimacy, that made for the ingredients of what was a truly special evening for all those attending.

It is likely that a performance like this will not happen again soon, as the whole event was the coming together of so many elements, as the sum total being so much greater than any individual. And, as I have already said, it is properly about just being in the right place at the right time.

THE SECRET OF SUCCESS

It is nearly two months since I've written anything, but the song remains the same (out of tune and boring i know), and this is how it goes;

Still i am disquieted by my own mind, my heart, my soul. Surely i have everything? A roof over my head, a family around me, working in a job with my hands, and i am reasonably healthy. Yet i still seem to be running in sand emotionally. This feeling of being alone whilst everything is essentially really OK is such a luxury I know, as there are millions of people that real are suffering with a lot more immediate problems, much more serious than the emotional cravings of a middle-aged middle-classed mediocre sufferer of stereotypical midlife-crisis wank. And to that end, perhaps i should try and be less selfish. But, in my own defence, it is still predominant and pervasive throughout everything i do and think, which is doing my head in. Will i ever be happy with my lot?

So what do i do? Stop mincing around, be a real man and just get on with life, and consider myself lucky? Or sink even deeper into a self obsessed whingeathon? I wouldn't mind if all of this was making good art, or at the very least, making a good living out of the drive it/my mind possesses. But all it does is descend in the form of a dense fog over myself and, subsequently, over those that have the misfortune to be closest to me as well.

There are times when i do have fleeting glimpses of what is close to euphoria, and these times i treasure. These moments seem to be fairly random in their apparition, and make me realise that they are driven by outside forces, not by my own will. By this i mean that i am not the instigator of the euphoric moments but i am experiencing the moments as a result of someone or something else. I would like to point out. at this time, that i am realistic enough to understand that i do not expect these wonderfully fragrant moments of time to be hugely constant, or consistent. I just have a yearning for them to be less sparse.

Am i the only one who thinks this way? Or are you all blissfully happy and at one with yourselves and your world? Do let me know your secret of success if you are. Also , is there anyone out there that understands what i'm trying to share here? If so, please say something. In the mean time, if there is anyone out there that knows me well enough, appear to me and give me a laugh, and maybe some chocolate too.