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Category: Diary
In ye olde days, I was blighted by insomnia. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with sleep. Or maybe it’s that by nature I am a nocturnal creature preferring to beaver around when everyone is in bed. I like it late at night when there’s no-one about. It is if I have the whole world to myself (obviously that’s not quite true because on the other side of the world it is daytime).
Anyway, having children and a lifestyle that doesn’t lend itself to my various nocturnal activities (mainly recording music), my insomnia used to be a thing of the past. But ever since the incident, my sleep patterns are all over the shop. I’ve actually gone quite insane, really. Now I stay up in the (probably) misguided notion that if I am awake during these hours, nothing bad will happen to the house and if it does I am instantly on hand to ferry everyone to safety and deal with the miscreants. The incident has really fucked me up.
So this song is about what it is like to be me and trying to get to sleep. It’s short, but sometimes when I lie in bed I honestly feel that if I do go to sleep that I might never rise again. I worry that I won’t be there for the kids, that the stress of my situation my somehow finish me off. I’ve been aware of my mortality since I was five years old and when I have an attack of imagining my last breath, I now get very upset, because I want to life forever just so I can be there for the chlidren. What a sad pathetic fuck I’ve become, eh? My attack of shingles before Christmas was a warning signal about my health and stress levels, but there’s very little I can do until I extricate myself from this mess. Ahh, I could give you the details but who wants to hear yet another sob story? Boo-hoo. Grow some balls, man, ferchrissakes…
Hold On Till Morning
And I lay here in the darkness
And I can hear the baby breathing
And I feel your heat beside me
And I pray I have the strength to carry on
The tension in my chest
Tightens like a press
And the world spirals
So far away from me
The Coils of Sleep
Won’t drag me deep
As I worry on the how’s and now’s
Trying to find a way out
And I hope I can hold on
Till the early morning birdsong
Signals I’ve survived another night
And I’m greeted by the same familial sight
And you’ll are there by my side
Hold On Till Morning
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I finally added the words to the music. I ruined it all by singing. I’m sorry. But it needed to be sung. This is my song to express my utter devotion to Sharon, Verity and Herbie. Nothing more needs to be said. It’s one from the heart.
The singing was done….very quietly…so as not to wake any small children…so that’s why it’s not a full-blooded vocal performance. More muted and trying for emotion.
Here are the words:
Give It To You
You fix me here
A reason to be
Put my feet on the ground
Someone to be around
To take care
To hold you in my hands
To help me understand
See the shining stars in sky
Every one is there for you
Count them if you can
Hold them in your hands
And If I could give them to you
I’d give you everything
That I have
It’s not Shakespeare, but it’ll have to do. This will be the last song on the new album (whatever that turns out to be).
Give It To You – Vocal Mix
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Here is “Give It To You” again. This time I’ve redone some of the guitars, re-recorded the bassline completely (because before it was just a guide pulse rather than the “real thing”) and added a middle and extended the ending. I feel it would make a strong vocal track, but I just don’t have the confidence to spray my vocals all over it. Though I must admit it does sound like the playout track of a romantic comedy, perhaps? That’s it Darren. Write music for films that don’t exist. Excellent strategy…
Give It To You – Not So Rough Mix
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And after nearly three months of non-recording, I’ve decided to do something. No writer’s block, no lack of ideas, just didn’t want to record. Felt it was a waste of time. Done it all before. But then everything has been done before, no?
Anyway, here’s my first foray back into the land of the creatives. It’s the bedding track for a song with a lyric. I’ve got the words in my head somewhere and the guitar line is singing the words if you listen closely. It’s called “Give it to You” and it is probably going to be a song about loss of ego, materialism and selflessness. Might be about my children. Don’t know. Of course, I’ll have to bloody sing the thing and that fills me with no amount of happiness.
With this recording, I tried to do something different with the initial mix of it. I wanted more space in the middle, so the bass had your attention and the rhythm guitar was meant to be more ethereal. Not sure if it works. I’ll rest my ears and listen again.
Enjoy!
Give It To You
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Jah Wobble has been an artist that has slipped in and out of my consciousness for the last fifteen years or so. I remember distinctly helping The Missus with a packaging project for her university degree and going into the local Woolworths to raid their bargain bin for cheap CDs. One of them was “Becoming More Like God” and there were quite a few copies going for 99p so we bought a few in order to bastardise the gatefold digipack sleeves for The Missus’s own designs. That’s how forward-thinking and industrious we were in those good, old days.
Of course, I gave the disc a spin before heartlessly ripping the digipack apart and modifying it to The Missus’s requirements. Of course, since then there have been various TV appearances and his “greatest misses” package came my way about six years ago, which was a very interesting prospect. I was also entranced by his work on Eno’s Spinner project, which was an extension/revision of Eno’s Jarman-based Glitterball non-soundtrack.
Where am I going with this, you is probably asking? Well I pretend to be an uncultured buffoon, I like to play up to my class and pretend that I drag my knuckles on the pavement, beat my wife and have a closed mind, but nothing could be more contrary to the truth. Without sounding like an online dating advert: I actually enjoy museums, art galleries and have even seen a ballet or two in my time. Fuck me, Darren. You sure you ain’t some kind of shirt-lifting jobby-jabber, trapped in a lavender marriage?
No, I pretend that I don’t read and an I’m the archetypal East End yob because I have nothing to prove and it is easier to play up to expectations. But seriously, one of the reasons I don’t read, especially fiction, is because when I come to write my own works, the influence of what I’ve read is often too strong and I find myself inadvertantly writing in the style I’ve been reading, adopting all the semantic ticks and quirks, and diluting my own style. So I steer clear of fiction because it is bad for me as an artist.
However, I do have a penchent for biographies, especially music biographies. It’s obvious really because I love music and I also want to seek our the shared experiences of other artistes. It’s something I really enjoy and I should do more of if I had the time. Sometimes they don’t really get to the nuts and gravy of the person (pick almost any Bowie biog), but I’ve read a book recently that is an essential read – even if you don’t like music.
Now this bit is where my intro collides with the actual theme of this entry. Somehow I stumbled over the fact that Jah Wobble had written his own biography and I was compelled to buy it. Don’t ask me why: I’m not his biggest fan, but I’ve always had an admiration for his work ethic and prodigious output. I can’t stand artists who spend 10 years releasing albums (I’m looking at you Gabriel) because they ain’t really musicians. Musicians are people who think music all the time and find rhythms and inspirations in all moments of waking life.
Anyway, I bought “Memoirs of a Geezer” last week as a birthday treat and read it from cover to cover, despite constant protestations from Verity to “put the daddy book down”. Jah Wobble is a bit of an arsehole during his early years, but even he would admit to that, nearly ruining his life through excess, but always maintaining a way of providing for his family.
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In his writing voice, this is someone who spoke to me in my own voice. Someone who was from the East End of London, who saw the ridiculous in everything and could see people for what they were. He is someone who was conflcted as an artist: does he piss his time away making music or get a proper job, he asks? This is someone who doesn’t take bullshit and takes actions often to his own detriment.
This is the first book I’ve read where it answered some of my own internal questions and provided me with a grounding to who I am and why I tick the way I tick. I’m like this because of class and geography. You cannot change who you are, even though you might get the right haircut or change your accent. He also charts the cultural changes in the East End and echoes my own views.
Before reading this book I was seriously thinking of calling it quits on making any more music because I felt I’ve done enough and no-one is really listening and unless I am “out there” I am really wasting my time. But reading this book got me to realise that if you can do, you should do. If you have a talent, you should at least attempt to share it with the world.
Thanks Jah, I owe you one!
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The auditions at StudioLock fall a little flat as Verity shows me her chops on the Korg Wavedrum…