We Need Songs...

Hello again, Blogwatchers,


  Songs are funny, aren't they?  We need them.  We don't all need them in the same way, of course, we each react to them differently, or need different things from them.  Some need their music to not have too much depth, be pleasantly upbeat and to accompany their day inoffensively, while those sensitive souls among us need their music to do everything short of bathing them and cooking them a dinner, providing emotional support, optimism and nostalgia, healing wounds, reopening old ones, while others just want their melody to be repetitive, thumpy and able to convince them that it's okay to put their hands down a stranger's pants in a nightclub.


  I am more likely to land in the middle category than anything else (there's no chance of me attempting to cram my hands into a lady's undercarriage at the merest hint of bangin' trance, that's for sure).  There are so many songs that plonk me back to a time when hearing it meant everything.  Play 'Second Chance' by Liam Finn and I am stalking the living room of my last house, resting my head on a doorframe and closing my eyes to the disappointing world that was around me at the time.  Play 'The Big Picture' by Bright Eyes and I am sitting in the stock room of a shop in Crewe, surrounded by deliveries and praying for a chance to leave.  Play 'Come Over' by Cathy Davey and I am dancing like an idiot behind the counter of the best shop I ever worked in, as my best friend Mike is glad that a musician he reckoned I'd like becomes one I love.  Play the entirety of the 'Era Vulgaris' record by Queens Of The Stone Age, and I am curled up with my girlfriend on the settee in my old flat, on a baking hot summer day in 2008.  These images drop gracelessly into my head once the sound-trigger starts, like the opposite of a family's attempt to use a stereo to rouse a loved one from a coma, the music puts me into a thought-coma.


  And so it is with the songs we write.  I was talking about this with friends at the second Nerina Pallot concert last Friday night, and we were saying how strange it is to play a song that is borne of a very specific thought or event.  It was suggested that it must be cathartic to get the songs out of your system at a gig, and I half-agree.  If the playing of a particularly emotive song goes well, it is rewarding and there is a sense of making something good out of a difficult subject.  At the same time, however, in performance I am hurled back into the state of mind I was in at the time.  I am not acting the emotion of the song, I am feeling it.


  I have been at Keele Folk Club this evening, unveiling a new song and re-deploying two songs that I had accidentally let fade a little.  Among these is a song with which I hope you will all become familiar before too long (I have plans for it, you see), called 'It Was You'.  There is a sad story behind the song, as it depicts an evening of sadness and poignancy.  It is not a constantly present thing in my head, but when I stand up and play those chords, I am in my living room, looking at boxes, and anxiously waiting for that knock on the door.  And you can't  always shift it of your head straight away, so you hope the audience carries you through and helps snap you out of it.


  Of course, you can switch from this to the idiot whimsy of 'I've Still Got Your Blood On My Curtains', and shatter the mood completely, and it doesn't matter because you're putting on a show! but it is fascinating.  To write a song and perhaps years down the line, look at it and think about where you were compared to where you are, to see what has changed, perhaps gain new insights into what you were thinking when you wrote it.  If you write (not necessarily songs, either), I urge you to look at something you've written, maybe a long time ago, and give it a good read.  What does it tell you?


  So there it is, second blog this week.  I  have been particularly reflective (and not in the sense that I become luminous in the beam of car headlights), and it's lead to thoughts I would hope I've expressed in words.  I am going to Manchester on Saturday to see more giggery, and from then on it's practice, practice, practice in readiness for all my gigs.  Head to http://www.wix.com/mrjohnmacleod/music and go to the Live Dates page if you want to come and see me play!


Be good, be happy and speak soon,
G'night,
J xxx

Tea, Laundry, And The Need To Be Heard

Good evening, folk.  Mugs of tea and inflatable piles-cushions at the ready?  Excellent.


  You know when you are pottering around the house, ticking little things off your jobs-list, unable to bend down and pick up a pair of soon-to-be-laundered pair of underpants without it issuing a sigh from your body that you initially think is a sign that you're tired but, when you think about it, it's one of those emotionally-charged sighs that tell you you're feeling a bit drained in some aspects of your life?  No?  Just me?  Well, in any case, I am in that ball-park. (Wait though, that's a bit of an Americanism that has drifted Englandwards, isn't it?  Should I say something more Britishy?  Currently, the only thing I can think of is car-park, but that lends an entirely unwelcome aesthetic to what I'm saying.  I think I shall stick with ball-park.)  I suddenly needed a chat, an ear, and a shoulder upon which to rest, and so here I am chatting at with you.


  I have exercised a little discipline this evening, and done things like laundry and washing-up, and I have also written a list of the songs I wish to play on a regular basis, seeing as there are a few concerts coming up in the next few weeks, and if my sets were exactly the same for every one of them (and bear in mind that one gig will see me playing two half-hour-or-so sets), then it would get a bit boring.  So, I thinks to myself, I will practice all the songs I don't play very often, so that I am au fait with them again.  I have done that tonight, and will continue so to do until I don't need the lyric book in front of me, then I will plan out a rotation of setlists, so that they all get an airing at some point or another.


  I just went downstairs to make a cup of tea (well, I went downstairs to make up my mind whether or not I fancied a cup of tea or a glass of Baileys, and decided on the tea), then I came back upstairs, drank the tea, read some old blogs (not mine, I hasten to add), and thought of nothing else to write on here.


  My mind's a little bit away with the fairies if I'm honest (and I just know I've got to trudge back downstairs in a minute to empty the washing machine), because I am in that post-gig nostalgia you get after attending two nights of concerts from one of your favourite musicians.  In case you don't follow my tweets, haunt my Facebook page or stare, unrelentingly, hour after hour, at my Instagram page in the hope it updates, I went to London last week to spend some quality time with my sister and her family (my, how my nephew is growing - he is a cheeky little sir and has taken to walking hither and yon with his hands held behind his back like a little statesman, it's adorable, and were it not an ill-advised sort of message to give to a youngster, I'd almost want to buy him a bubble-pipe).  At the end of that week, I went to see Nerina Pallot play her entire oeuvre over two nights at St. James' Church.


  I loved those two evenings.  I saw my friend Jenny whom I've not seen since October, I made two new friends, one of which is a chap called Michael, and the other is a writer also called Michael. Michael Linford, for those of you crazy about details (you may find out more about him at www.michaellinford.co.uk, and for Heaven's sake send him a list of the 20 songs you'd like to hear as the world ends - you can find out more about that on his website - and go to his facebook pages, 'like' them, and get to know the man, he's a proper gent).  I also saw Nerina & her husband Andy, and was able to say hello and thank you for two lovely evenings without (and here I keep my fingers so tightly crossed that I might have just heard something snap) making an out-and-out arse of myself.  Somewhere in the annals of my internet scribblings, there is a blog about the time I met Neil Finn and decided that would be a great moment to mention me getting my wallet stolen.


  (I still have not emptied the washing machine.)


  I can tell you this, my head still has idiocy swimming around it.  The kind of self-doubt you can only get at nearly half-midnight after a cup of tea and a sing-song.  Those little nagging thoughts that ask "What do you want from life?" or "Aren't you just howling into the void by now?" and "That shirt's going to smell funny if you don't hang it out soon."  I know.  My brain is a fun place to be, some nights.


  More than anything, I want to be heard.  I want to sing my songs to as many people as will listen.  Playing those songs through earlier on (some for the first time in months) has brought home how much work I have to do, and how much I wanted to have it done in 2012, and we're in May already.  Assuming there's going to be an apocalypse, I am going to be seriously shafted if I want to finish this piece of work I've got floating in my brain.  And how does one balance an EP & LP's worth of material with gigs and a personal life (an occasionally lonely personal life) and a full time job without going crackers?


  I suppose (no, I hope) I am going to find out.


J xx


P.S:  Speaking of finding my music everywhere, you couldn't be a swell & become a fan of my page on http://mrjohnmacleod.amazingtunes.com could you?  I'd be awfully grateful.  Thank you.  Be good, and, more importantly, be nice. [trudges downstairs to retrieve an armful of wet underwear and shirts]


P.P.S:  It is now 7:15am the following morning, and I am finally able to post this blog, after the signal went on both my internet AND mobile phone, in what I can only guess to be some sort of transmitter failure on behalf of my mobile network.  I'd like to say I was calm and sanguine about not being able to tweet, text or call anyone concerning my being incommunicado, but I was terrified.  It seemed like the beginnings of a film, and that any second, men in balaclavas (an inappropriate form of headgear for May, or even any month, and only acceptable for nefarious doings) would burst through my door, cudgel me into unconsciousnessness, and leave me to wake up strapped to a chair in a spider-filled dungeon.  I actually had that thought process, and am now really rather glad to have woken up without a trace of gaffer tape applied to my person.

Listening with your eyes closed

  One of the more amazing things about music is the work and effort that go into making something that is relatively easy to listen to.  (Seriously, it's one of the easiest things you can do, it's even easier than watching stuff.  Listening you can do with your eyes closed.  I mean wow!  All you have to do is make sure your ears are open and your brain does the rest.  It's brilliant, isn't it?)  For example, this weekend I have bought two Radiohead albums ('Kid A' & 'Hail To The Thief') and Lisa Hannigan's second album, 'Passenger'.  I listened to them yesterday & today, and they made for great listening and exciting inspirational nuggets, and after I'd finished them, I thought about how much work must have gone into making them.  Records like those mentioned, and, well, anything really, if you listen closely enough, are fascinating because as well as the whole sound, you hear every tiny component of what makes it (sometimes, it can be on your 19th listen that you spot an instrument or melody line that you never knew was there, those moments are fun).  You hear them and you wonder whether those parts were planned, or whether during the recording process, someone chucked in a line on a glockenspiel, or keyboard riff, purely on a whim.


  I am in a similar spot myself now, thinking of aspects to throw into my songs, for after several months of telling you all that I want to record new songs for you all to hear, I am on the path to making the first EP.  The first job (making programmed drum sequences as a recording guideline) is a relatively simple one, and yet it has taken me weeks to even start (and I've almost finished it).  I often think that when you have a task or project standing directly in front of you, it's the most daunting thing.  So many variables you won't have planned for, wondering if you've made a mistake in the preliminary stages, not knowing what you're going to do within the framework of the song, and you're committing to a path of action, which is, at times, a scary thing.


  That has been one of the reasons I have taken so long to start, the second being not having a clearly defined route to take with regards what songs to put where.  For many a week, when talking these things over with people, either at gigs or nights out, I have said "I have a list of songs as long as my arm that I'm ready to record," etc etc ad nauseum.  This is true, but I realise now that I had been missing something vital.  Something to string the songs together, like a beaded necklace.  For a long time, I was including songs that now appear on the 'You've Been Lovely' EPs, with the intention of making a handful of EPs, then a full-length record, with some songs appearing on both.  I had, in my mind, made a right mess, and I had pages of notes that resembled a sicked-up dog's breakfast* more than it did a series of recordings.


  I then put the You've Been Lovely' EPs together, which did a good job of clearing them out of my head and allowing me to think in more focused terms about what it was I wanted to be doing.  There then followed a peculiar few weeks, which gave me a lot to sort out, mentally, and produced more songs which I could hear in my head with such clarity that I knew they needed to be included in my big recording project.**  These new songs also connected the dots with several other "new" songs (ie songs that I haven't done anything with yet but date back a year or two), and altogether, they give a good, healthy shape to a potential album, to the point where I can plot out its running order, and then free up other songs for recording on the EP.  I've even found myself writing a new song this week, as one of the EP songs needed to be on the Big Project, and so a song tentatively entitled 'Half As Lucky' has appeared, and should add a touch of jaunt to the proceedings.


  So, in all the procrastinating & dilly-dallying, I feel I can safely say that what I was actually doing was fermenting ideas and waiting for the moment when I had enough songs with the right plotlines, if you will, before committing to a project that wouldn't have made enough sense otherwise.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.


  I leave you for now with a performance of a song that can't fail to swell your hearts & souls with joy, and that's what music's been doing to me for the last few weeks.  Enjoy.

Be good,
Love,
John xx


*You have no idea how close this phrase was to being the title of this blog entry.
**Which I will start once I've recorded this here EP. 

"It's never going to happen for you, you know, unless you change a few things..."

  Just a quick post - I listened to a thing this evening that was in turn funny & jaw-dropping.  To me, it's indicative of the way some people see music as a business, and don't understand what music truly is to people.  It's a skill that musicians develop, a form of expression, a part of who we are, and those who are lucky enough to make any kind of living at it at all are pretty aware of how lucky they are to do what they want, they way they want to do it.

  Gemma Hayes is one such musician.  I have been listening to her records since about 2002, when her debut album 'Night On My Side' was released, and since then, when said debut was nominated for a Mercury Music Prize, she has grown over four albums, producing excellent songs and becoming more & more respected and independent as an artist.  Not only that, her live shows are a joy to attend.  Also, I'd give my eye teeth to be in such a position, career-wise.  If you look below, you will see her four album covers.

           

There are a further three EPs and nine singles.  Mark of quite a substantial career, wouldn't you say?

Enter Louis Walsh, stage left (literally), in the words of Gemma Hayes on BBC 6music:

"Louis Walsh - this is such a great story - I actually first met him for the first time, maybe two years ago, three years ago?  He saw me play at a show, and he was at the side of the stage, and once I got off the stage he said "We have to talk," and he said "I would love to work with you, Gemma, I think you've got loads of potential, ahm, but, you know, it's just never gonna happen for you, you know, unless you change a few things."  So I said "Well, give me some pointers," and he said "Well first off, you have to stop writing songs."

And I'm like, "Okay," scratching my head, [thinking] "Well, what's left?"  And he said "You don't need to do it anymore, if you work with me, I'll employ someone to write songs for you, and the second thing you need to do is date a celebrity.  If you're not in the magazines, you don't exist."  So he was like: "Are you in?" and I was like: "I'm out.""

  Can anyone else see why the music business needs taking apart & putting back together again, only without cultural morons in it?

Cheers,

J xx

These times in which we live...

Good evenink,


  When most people begin a blog with the words "I'm taking a risk writing this..." it's because they are writing something controversial, possibly about a potentially 'hot topic'.  I am indeed taking a risk in writing this, although purely because tonight I am hosting an open mic night in about an hour and a half, and I have yet to book train tickets for my gig in Leeds tomorrow, cook dinner, think a little bit about my set, perhaps (I am still umming and ahhing over whether to take my DADGAD-tuned acoustic as well as my standard-tuning guitar, it would be a difficulty to say the least, travelling, as I am, alone, so I'm erring on the side of not taking it - I actually made that decision whilst typing this, so thanks for being there with me).  In short, I've got a lot on and so shouldn't really be sitting down to write a blog.  But here I am.  Writing.


  I shall tell you for why, dear readers - happiness.  As many of you will be all too painfully aware, I follow Twitter.  I like to be aware of the tides of it, the moods of it, the general feel of the people whom I follow.  At times like this, when our government is doing everything they pretty much can to systematically dismantle the things which we hold dear (pausing only to attempt charge us through the nose for things that we essentially need as functioning people in the 21st century), at times when openly racist attitudes are being uncovered in parts of both in America during the presidential election campaigns, or in the UK through hostile tweets from unthinking fools as a young footballer is resuscitated during a televised match (some of the most amazingly regressive attitudes have been shown to me this week - apalling), and at times when we have had as much as we can take from all sides, I'll be honest, the mood is low.


  Twitter often shines, it is a lifeline through the darkness when I am feeling down (and there has been a fair bit of that as we've emerged from winter), and it still is.  But a shadow has fallen across some of it as the Conservatives privatise everything and the Lords & Lib-Dems, against all odds, vote in favour, and as the press decide not to say much about things such as the NHS Bill but focus on instead on royal visits (I'm not against them, but y'know, priorities?).  I see a darker gallows wit currently, and it weighs heavy.  I still love Twitter, and speaking to all the people therein, it is a comfort, especially during long evenings & weekends of alone time, I have made friends that I value and many that I would love to meet in an actual room & shake hands with/cuddle.  I did such a thing yesterday with a really nice chap, who is embarking on a meet/greet/photography project, and we spent yesterday afternoon shooting the breeze, talking about our respective pasts,views and interests, and by the time we'd finished eating dinner, we realised it had turned 10pm (not the 8-ish we were expecting), and hadn't taken a single photograph.  (We did get some photos done in the end, and I look forward to seeing them, and seeing how his project develops, if you'll pardon the pun.)


  See what I did there?  That paragraph started horribly, but ended on something good.  I want to write good things, happy things, things that when you read them, remind you that the world essentially is a good place, with good people in it, that barely hear about on news/current affairs, because by heavens, it doesn't make for proper reporting or keep the nation in check under a tarpaulin of misery.  If you're reading this and nodding, then you are a wonderful, positive person who can see the good in things and move forwards in your life with that in mind, because as long as you're breathing, there is no way that you can let yourself be beaten down by people who ain't too bothered so long as there's money coming in.  Yes it's unfair, yes it's unjust, but the only thing that'll keep them banging in coffin nails is darkness.


  I don't talk about "current affairs" that often, because intellectually, I don't feel qualified to, I lose the confidence to talk about such things in any kind of way, but the thing I can do is be positive, be there for people, and make them smile.  Which is what I'll continue to do.


Erm, right.  This blog is perhaps a bit short, perhaps a bit nonsensical in places, and I'm sure there was more I wanted to say, but this has taken half an hour to write, and I have a powerful need to eat before being massively late to an event I'm supposed to be running (I won't be late really, just so long as I stop typi

Acoustic Music Jolliness

Good evening, O watchers of Blog,

As is often my way, I am yet to do a dinner and am, constantly, thinking about writing to you lot.  It's a blessing and a curse, really, because it means I end up with a rumbly tummy and a heady surprise when I stand up, but it does mean you get a big nuggety chunk of info to read, which you then have a glorious task of finding amid the nonsense about tea, Chunky KitKats, and the funny noises I just heard outside my window.  (My street is generally quiet, or at least doesn't let outside noise in - next door, it has a ball with, but that's another issue - but every so often, golden moments happen.  For instance, last night I was tweeting to my friend Josie, just as someone parked their car, got out of it and tripped over some bins.  Or this morning, when a postie delivered a special package to next door, but when he knocked on, the sound travelled something mighty & three other people came out to ask if it was their door he was knocking on.  Such is the joy of terraced houses.)

The gist of this ramble is that I am a bit hungry, despite a very filling pub lunch with my family in a bid to beat the Mother's Day rush that would ensue if we had gone out tomorrow.  My family is cunning.  One cup of tea, a BBQ Chicken burger & chips, a half of Guiness (happy St. Patrick's Day, I'm having a quiet Bailey's later, on my own, with the DVD of my choosing), and eight hours later, I'm ready for another scoff.

I feel a bit bad that my last blog to you, while full of witter, bamboozlement and nonsense, was, really, a big advert for my EPs in disguise.  So this one is about nothing in particular.  Actually, before that, I have concertedly not looked at my EP sales this week, as it was all I did in the first week I put them out, and that could drive one mad.  I have looked just now, and I can confirm that there have definitely been some sales.  This makes me happy.  All of you who have purchased my early efforts at songmaking, I cannot thank you enough.  Slap yourselves on the back and give yourself a chocolate (or, if you can't eat chocolate, or are off them for Lent, pick the most appropriate treat that it is possible to award yourself and consume it heartily).  If you haven't perused my EPs yet, there they stand, timeless, suspended in digital downloadery, patiently awaiting your attention.  Go for it.  There's no rush, but there's no time like the present either, so hotfoot it over.  I shan't type the linkage again though, I've done enough of that to last me a lifetime thankyouverymuch, all the information you need is on the blog previous to this one.

This week I have been readying myself for next week, for I shall be a bit busy.  It's a week which I have, mostly, booked off from my day-job, and will be songifying.  Tomorrow I am playing at a pub in my hometown, 'The Old Brown Jug', for an event that has been named 'Song Club' - a night of acoustic music jolliness.  On Tuesday I am meeting a friend from Twitter & pouting/batting my eyelashes in order to assist him in a photography project upon which he is embarking.  He's an ace chap, and it will be lovely to meet him.  Wednesday night will see me hosting the open mic at The Rigger while the manager/host is on holiday, which will make for an interesting evening.  Thursday I will be journeying to Leeds to play a set once again at the Verve Bar.  It was a hoot last November, and this time around I won't be dashing from work in order to get there.  I am very much looking forward to playing again, and also not getting lost/traipsing the city for what seems like hours/being misdirected by ridiculous hotel staff.  I'd like a fun gig, to meet nice people, to wander the city unhampered, and then to come home un-knackered on Friday.  Please.

What I should follow that up with (apart from the inevitable "Details on my website! www.wix.com/mrjohnmacleod/music!") is that if ANY of you are in or near the Leeds area, I would love to meet you, so do get awn down to this Leeds gig if you can.  Likewise for the gigs in Staffordshire.  I would love you to be in the crowd for a gig, it's my natural habitat (apart from chattering like a gibbon on here like I'm doing now - that comes worryingly easily, I've noticed).  So yes.  Gigs.  Please come. 'Twould be lovely.

As I continue to type, I see that time marches on like a homeward-bound drunk being lead by the forward momentum of his ever-heavying skull.  As it does this, I am reminded of my rumbling tummy, and I just know that standing up will make me realise how hungry I am [swipes at stars circling head], so I had better go.  I will speak to you all soon, blogwatchers, and let you all know how the gigs went.  Although if you're there for them, I won't have to, will I? ;~P

Take care, be good & speak soon,

Love,

John xx

EP Releases Imminent - Important Info!

Good day to you, blog-watchers!

  As you're all no doubt painfully aware by now, my EPs are out tomorrow!  That's right.  I can't let you folks go unrewarded for being all nice and reading my blogs/tweets/posts, and so, as you've taken the time to read this, when the EPs are out tomorrow, I have made a couple of discount codes available for you.  There is NO expiry date on these codes, so if you can't get them tomorrow, you can buy them whenever and still get the discount (so long as you still have the code, obvs).  These discount codes will give you 10% off each EP, and when you come to purchase, you should (all being well) see this screen:

Now - see where it says "have a discount code?"  That's where you will enter the following codes:

Volume 1 - avidreader

Volume 2 - keenlistener

That should give you 10% of the price of each EP.  If you experience any problems with any process, let me know and I will get on the case.

Also, I know I said I was hoping to arrange a deal for getting both EPs at once, but I can't seem to find an option for that, despite extensive searching.  I did try.  In the meantime, thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy these releases.


They will be available at http://mrjohnmacleod.bandcamp.com

I hope you enjoy them, thank you in advance.

Love,

John xx