Impulse
Here it is again. The impulse. It’s amazing the way it comes and takes over. I’m not really a very good artist. In terms of the fact that the stuff I produce is a bit half arsed, rushed and unconfident of my abilities.
Mainy, its music. Songwriting specifically. This is the art I have been the most interested in since I was 10 years old. The magic of words and music. But, writing generally. Now I am unsure which form this is going to take- bisected between a need to just write words and a need to also produce music to go along with it. Maybe I should just stop thinking about the two things as separate.
So I thought I would keep a live diary of what I am going to (and probably not going to) do.
It's early days. I have come out of a deep, hollow depression with a perspective I want to catalogue. I am enjoying the idea of stories, poetries and ramblings but deep inside I know the scratch will only be itched by making another album.
The problem is, since pretty much giving up performing a few years ago, I haven't so much lost my confidence as my extended interest in music. I dilly-daddle around on instruments but come up with few solid ideas.
I am also aware that this will be solo album number 10 and that it may be my last song album. The OCD is killing me. I cannot bear finishing on an uneven number nine. Number nine. Number nine.
I want to make that honest acoustic album I always start trying to make before I go overboard and add too much. The inspiration is at the moment Peter Bruntells amazing last album ‘Journey To The Sun’. This fantastic collection was mainly written on a Mando-cello and synths. The songs really chime. I have been listening to a lot of David Sylvian again and going deeper with Steely Dan thinking how well they used space in really complicated arrangements. The problem is once I get into it I tend to overproduce. Less Phil Spectre than Fill Septum.
I am not very good at working slowly, but getting older has helped me compartmentalise. I also have a good two years of manky old voice message ideas to wade through in the vain hope that fucked up small hours jams yield decent riffs.
But this is noise. I like just writing out the thoughts of the things I may or may not do. Maybe I will do both. Or maybe this album will just be speculative words of what could have been. Here goes.