I don’t think that I’ve ever aspired to do more than avoid the mainstream and share my music with those who care to listen; no industry, no middle managers, no manufacturing, no begging to appease an “industry”. The first half of my musical life was often working with children - songs, singing games, percussion workshops, but my real love became encouraging them to make their own original music. Increasingly over the past thirty years I’ve composed and performed and played whole evenings of my own music with my bands for social events and private functions, including many, many weddings.
After a life changing health situation I now play solo. That way should my health let me down again I’ve no band members or booked audience to disappoint. The greatest joy I experience now is in writing songs and singing them as a street performer at times of my own choosing; again, completely without the interference of any industry professionals. Apart from real people and real street encounters I believe I am as much under the radar as it’s possible to be and all the happier for it.
I do like small independently organised festivals curated by real musicians and when I go to one (a few times a year) I try to play what I call a guérilla set, sometimes in the arena when nothing else is happening and often in the campsite among the tents and wagons of the hippies and travelling folk, many of whom have become friends. Sometimes it leads to a spot on a small stage, but that’s not my motivation. My life is incredibly rich, full and brimming over with love. Who needs Spotify, Artificial Intelligence or any other mod *con*!
I had a message from one of these travelling friends the evening after I wrote this section. I was about to leave for France for a few days and the day after I returned (six train journeys from the Alps to the Fens) he wanted me to play on his beautiful homemade stage that he pulls with his horses from festival to festival. Yeah, man. Life is sometimes grand!
Many months later ...
There are some issues though. Much like my essays on this site have become more sporadic I sometimes feel my ability to get out in the street and play is affected by the seasons. Cold and inclement weather make it hard to climb out of the boat with my instruments and lug them along the bank to my van. Unlike some buskers I don't risk the instruments by playing in the rain. I've realised I can go for weeks or sometimes even months without playing. When the darkness really takes hold it's difficult to motivate myself to play and sing in the cosiness of the boat too. After a while of such musical inactivity it's hard to get started again. Then the voice gets weak and the finger joints stiffen, the finger tips soften and my leg muscles tire easily. Is this because I'm seventy years old, with seventy-one approaching like the speeding bullet in Superman stories; am I tired, or just lazy? I'm not sure of the answer, but I do know that I had an idea for a new song last evening and made a start on the lyrics, played a few songs this afternoon, cleared a space on my desk that is normally unusable due to being covered with stuff - mostly unsorted papers, cables and leads and often clothes not quite ready for laundering and into that space I've placed my laptop. It's so old that the OS can't be updated, the obsolete battery no longer holds a charge, I can't find a replacement and some of the keys seemed to have given up working. This decrepitude seems like a metaphor for my state of mind, spirit and body, but it feels pretty good sitting here and adding to an essay I started writing last September. It's February and the days are stretching out. You know, life is beginning to feel a bit grand. So much has happened in the past few months and I have kept little record of it. Maybe I'll try and do a little catching up. This self-indulgent claptrap is unlikely to catch the eye of any passing surfer, but let it be a reminder to myself. Using all my fingers to type on a proper keyboard is one way of getting them moving again.
