Do Things Scared

Alchemy: Noun

The medieval forerunner of chemistry, concerned with the transmutation of matter, in particular with attempts to convert base metals into gold.

Once upon a time I bungy jumped in Queenstown, New Zealand. I had said I would do it for over a year, so when I finally arrived at the AJ Hackett HQ's, there was no backing out. After a few failed "3 - 2 - 1 JUMP" promptings, I eventually jumped. When it was all over, I remember walking back up the mountain, adrenaline coursing through my body, vowing to do it again the moment I could. The thing is though, that elation quickly gave way to terror, in that, I've been afraid of heights ever since. So I've put the thought of bungy 2.0, quite understandably, out of my mind. The same process can be said for me FINALLY finishing my EP last week. 

After three straight weeks working on finishing touches for the EP, I sent the files to London to get mastered! Pure elation ensued. The weeks leading up were harrowing, unnaturally busy with prior engagements, waiting for planes to pass before the next vocal take, uploading files standing out on the street at 12am, and a good dose of doubt surrounding a couple of songs and the treatment of them. But then Friday rolled around, all the mixes were in, the masters were returned... I popped the Prosecco!

That Friday, the sense of relief was utterly tangible, an invisible cloak of "will she, won't she" was finally lifted, the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. That Friday, I didn't care if I failed wildly, if the whole world hated what I'd done, I had achieved what I'd set out to do - and the feeling was addictive.

And then Monday came around, insert terror. It reminded me of bungy jumping.

Monday meant I had to actually share my work. Monday meant that people could actually hear my work. Monday meant that people would offer their opinions, be it tactful or not. And despite the elation of the finished process, the sense of self accomplishment and success that I'd felt on Friday, well that quickly gave way to a myriad of insecurities.

The thing is, my narrative around this EP has been pretty bleak. Over the course of 2.5 years, I've been battling the journey, regretting the course and enduring the vision, all the while my poor friends, family and colleagues have been looking on, checking in, eagerly trying to bolster me up. This EP has had its flaws, and if you will bear with me, I would love to insert a (oh-so-unprofessional) disclaimer... Having had 3 producers, 3 countries, 3 different time zones, zero funding, and being my own "biggest heckler" (according to my husband), this EP has been hard work. But in spite of those things, Alchemy is a pretty darn good effort, and the fact that the finish line is nigh, well that's nothing short of a miracle. 

So because CD's are a dying trade, and a physical, glossy leaf booklet with a thank you page at the back is not to be, I would love to take the opportunity to thank those who helped me make this EP possible!

Firstly to my wonderful parents, who never doubted, questioned or inhibited me from giving this music thing a go. Thanks for your unwavering support and steady belief from day one. 

To my husband Isaac, thank you for being my constant source of encouragement and positivity. This EP would quite literally not exist if not for your musical prowess, constant sacrifices and willingness to support me into being the best version of myself.  

Thank you to all my friends and family, who have journeyed with me in Auckland, London and now Sydney. Thank you for coming along to my crappy gigs, offering your talent to my cause, hanging a poster or sharing something on social media. Thank you to all my girlfriends who I've shared espresso with over my not-so-espresso musical woe or win, Thank you for enduring (and/or putting up with) my years of bewilderment and disillusionment. Thank you for letting me write songs about you. Thank you for always encouraging me to dream bigger, and to be better. 

This project may look like a solo project, but in every way it's a reflection of the 'we' rather than me. Alchemy, belongs to all of us. Be it through thought or by deed, your contribution has been heard in the silence and felt in the unseen. Thank you. 

I'm going skydiving next month, so I guess what I'm trying to say is, I never want to stop doing things scared, and that another creative endeavour is on its way, if you'll let me. 

Malua Bay

Writing songs is the weirdest thing in the world. There's this mysticism to songwriting that is hard to articulate. It's kind of like waiting for your car to pass it's WOF/Rego. Those agonising minutes of waiting with a styrofoam cup in your hand and a Women's Day mag from 2002, willing your 90's Hatchback to come out the other side void of having to track down a second hand tyre and window washer blade for the next four hours.

Songwriting, and especially a songwriting retreat, is completely uncontrollable, hit or miss, steeped in expectation and often hued by failure or creative insecurity. Songs either come out needing huge repair work, or they seem to drive away with a sense of simplicity and ease, chuckling, thinking to themselves, 'oh, ye of little faith'. 

Isaac is a teacher by trade, which means for our holidays we're poised to set off with half the countries population in tow. Term time he works Saturdays, I work Sundays, so regardless of his quite real fear of bumping into one of his students barefoot in the the fish n' chip shop, we try to get away most school holidays. We decided on Malua Bay, South of Batemens Bay, North of Broulee (I say this only to confirm what was eventually established after 5 minutes of toing and froing with Isaac's parents last night). And because our songwriting efforts have been mostly half hearted this year, we decided to make it a songwriting retreat. 

Me // Dusk

Unlike many songwriters, I get the unusual privilege of writing with my husband. Which basically means that bunking down in a one bedroom shed on the Southern Coast of Australia is not one bit awkward. But it also means that 'creative differences' quietly ensure the necessity of all limbs perched on two opposing corners of the bed some nights #nosextonight

Isaac // Our gears 

Lindt Dark Chocolate Salted Caramel - by far the best chocolate out there. 

We decided we would begin our writing from a different starting point this time. More often that not we head straight down the acoustic route, starting with a chord progression with keys and guitar. This time however, we booted up ProTools, launched our Native Instrument plugins and connected all relevant instruments to our fancy Apogee console. For once we started with a grove, and it was pretty cool actually! It's amazing how much this approach completely changes the tone/sound/outcome of a song. In many ways the songs we started (they are far from complete) reflect our styles: JT, Bon Iver, RiRi and of course some Coldplay.

 'Princess Of China' by Coldplay feat Rihanna is basically Isaac & I in a song. 

I've been on a few writing retreats now, and I think the most important thing is to have a good balance between structured creative time and down time. Here's a bit of a basic run down of what we did, but honestly, do whatever you want! 

Day One:

Arrive 2pm, set up gear. Found private beach, read two pages of a book, fell asleep. Cooked dinner and chatted. 

Day Two:

7am alarm. Half hour of exercise. Tracked down best coffee in the area #fail

 9-12 established/recorded a groove || 12-2 Lunch & swim || 2-6 writing lyrics/melodies over groove || 6-8 dinner and chill time || 8-10 LOWEST POINT ON TOUR (tried to find a keyboard sound, it was like a 12 year old kid playing all his latest Nokia ringtones at you for two hours straight). 

Day Three:

Same as above EXCEPT included a midday swim in the rain (how romantic) and no late night keyboard disaster. Wrote/recorded 2nd track complete with V/P.C & C w ghost vocals.

Watched Charlie & The Chocolate Factory. 

Day Four:

Packed up, went the long way home stopping in at some amazing small towns (Milton & Berry were the absolute highlights). 

Basically I say this to demystify some elements of the songwriting process. It can be relaxing, it can be rewarding, but it can be equally frustrating and fatiguing. But I came away from our sessions genuinely amazed that we had created something from nothing, that we had actually managed to add a new sound, melody, lyric to the world. Sometimes I write a song and wonder how it happened. Then I wonder if I'll ever be able to write a one again. There is something magical about the process, but you've got to be practical to uncover it. It's an incredible privilege to be able to outwork our humanity through songwriting and music, make time to let it happen. 

ME // STOKED

Arena.

I have a song being mixed, nearly mastered, and I think it's too slow. How do I tell my producer this without him throwing something at me?

I have a crush on Brené Brown - latest contribution to my continued fandom: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-JXOnFOXQk

A quote to end all quotes by Theodore Roosevelt - “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” 

'Top sheets' cannot be found/bought in the EU (the sheet that goes between you and the duvet). Just getting used to life with a top sheet again. 

I really want to be on Grand Designs one day. Then open that house up as a retreat centre for songwriters/painters/designers/authors etc. 

I'm challenged by the idea of minimalism in my wardrobe - 32 garments. I'm doing a big cull this weekend.

I've been to ikea 6 times this month, which is practically all the exercise I need to do. 

I'm the new Creative Director of a church, and it's a mammoth job that feels overwhelming and incredibly exciting simultaneously. 

I'm enrolling in a ceramics class, I just want to do ALL of the things. I'm embracing a novice mindset this year, I'm sick of sticking to just music when I'm passionate about so many other areas of creativity. 

Most days I feel as if I'm never going to get this EP released. It's hard waiting on other people, learning the art of dependancy when I like control. I feel the pull towards perfection, and want to abort the whole project if the work is anything but that. The process is killing me, and it will take all I have to take heart, show up, be courageous in my pursuit to share this work.

But I want to be in the arena. 

Don't Stop Get It Get It

Remember when Rihanna dropped (please) 'Don't Stop The Music'... Well mamasae mamasa mamakusa, no truer words were ever spoken.

 

At a young age, most of us start to figure out what we're good at, or alternatively we're told what we're not good at. Which probably explains why most of us can't draw anything beyond a brick house with chimney smoke, a curly leafed tree and a sun sporting Ray-Bans (top right corner).

When we find that one thing though, most of us decide to use this as our best offering to the world around us. I chose music/songwriting, but there's been many years spent trying to un-choose it.

As an artist resisting the urge to feel validated by the conventional model of success, I'm conflicted by the messiness of creativity versus survival. As creative sorts, the dream is full time employment in your creative field, but more often than not plan A looks a whole lot more like pulling midnight pints whilst beavering away on the side (at least until one outweighs the other). But I think it's okay if plan A looks like any number of part time/full time jobs, so long as they're intertwined with an ongoing dedication to an art form. Plan A is a vessel few sail well. The temptation, steadiness and reliability of a plan B means we lose a lot of artists overboard.   

If you're still reading, you're probably serious about your art, dreams and creating a legacy that will outlast you. So my encouragement to all artists out there would be to commit to not stopping. Commit to plan A, whatever that looks like. Resist the temptation of a plan B. Put all your eggs in one proverbial basket.

Embrace the unconventional journey, the sacrifices incurred, the house you may never afford, the career with no ladders, periodic rejection, bewilderment from family, jealousy of peers (yours or theirs) and the unquantifiable measure of progress and success.  

If we're not prepared to absorb the ongoing costs of our art, we must be content living out plan B. And if you want a life defined by your plan A but feel rudderless in your pursuit, I found this video really helpful!

Ted Talks Featuring the amazing Patti Dobrowolski (Subscribe here for more amazing ted Talks):https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCAuUUnT6oDeKwE6v1NGQxug Grab a Pen and a paper and start now.

If nothing else, just trust the chick with the 90's lip liner and Ice Cube when they said "Don't Stop (Get It Get It)". 

New To London.

Top Ten Tips:

1. Buy a bike. Hands down best decision I made in 2015. London transport is amazing, but also very expensive. Cycling is generally faster, free and a dual purpose way to exercise. Cycling is also the best way to get orientated around London, the tube is straight-up confusing. Check out Brick Lane on a Sunday for legitimate bike buying as well as dodgy retailers selling stolen bikes - you will be able to tell the difference. 

2. Go with the bank that asks you the least amount of questions. Getting started in a new country feels very cyclical in the sense that to get a phone/flat/job/bank account, everything is hinged on having at least 1-2 of these things already in place. So to make your life easier go with the bank that requires the least amount of paper work. TSB only required a passport and faked my occupation. 

3. Even if you've lived with others for years, and have vowed to find private accommodation in London, seriously consider finding a room in an existing flat first. This means you've got plenty of time to find the right suburb and you've not signed any noose-around-your-neck type contracts. 

4. Housing related again, avoid Foxtons. They are the most expensive real estate agency out there. They will lure you in with their free sparkling water and fancy couches, but you'll pay for it in the end. Burnt: yes.

5. Get a job that leaves you free to travel on the weekends. FYI it's often quicker/cheaper to get to another country in Europe than it is to get to a London airport. Having traveled from East London to all London airports, here's my ranking system from best to worst: Heathrow, London City Airport, Luton, Gatwick & Stansted. Stansted in the morning is a beast, get there on time if you're flying Ryanair. 

6. Join a community, know and be known. London city is as transient as they come, I found the first 6 months to be overwhelmingly isolating and friendless. Let your schoolyard interests resurface or try something new, just try to be as proactive as possible and say 'yes' more often. 

7. Do all the London touristy things at the beginning of your move. There's no way you will be willing to pay 15-20 pounds per attraction 6 months into your stay. But while the city is glossy and your wallets are full, do it all. "Free" walking tours aren't much fun in winter though...

8. If you can, try and get a job that pays well. From experience the hospitality industry is terrible. If you want to travel, save save save at home. I've been able to travel by the grace of my NZ savings. Any income earned in the UK has gone straight into simply surviving in London. Sorry to be the bearer of such dire news. 

9. Don't moan about the weather, it's actually not that bad. Last winter there weren't enough layers in the world to keep me warm, and the "summer" still saw me rocking several layers. But mostly London is pretty mild, it doesn't rain much, it's not that windy, and it's light until 10pm in the summer with the chance of a heat wave! Every season has something to offer in London, just let it do it's thing. 

10. Grow. Being out of the comfort of friends, family and your homeland offers you the perfect opportunity to operate from a place of vulnerability. This is not a bad thing. The chance to be more dependant on people and open to new possibilities means that you will inevitably grow. London is a perfect breeding ground for developing self confidence, carving out an identity, plucking up courage in social situations, flexibility with employment options and greater awareness of a world moving outside of the bubbliness of home. 

Late Bloomers And KFC.

“A late bloomer is a person whose talents or capabilities are not visible to others until later than usual”

Birthdays and New Years Eves are not  great times for me. 

Any milestone gives you due cause to evaluate the year that has gone before, and the year that is to come. A simple enough moment that for most goes unnoticed, unless you are like me. I'm perpetually hard on myself, I judge my success against others, and I constantly feel as if I ought to have done more by now. When the clock strikes 12 and the candles are blown out, a sense of failure materialises. 

It's not all doom and gloom though (i.e nothing to worry about Mum). 

I've just turned twenty seven, I'm on the road to releasing my first EP, and there's plenty of things to be proud of this year. Though I wish these moments had electronic reminders or daily alerts. I easily forget what I've achieved, which means that with every passing year a soliloquy of sorts, or an oration from a concerned loved one is almost always necessary. The lingering sense with every grey hair that appears and pimple that retreats, is that I'm getting old, that I haven't done enough, and that my time may never come.

So now I find myself having spent the better part of two hours googling 'late bloomers' in a bid to find some reassurance. The most encouraging story is about the man behind those delicious drums, greasy fingers, and heart burn: Colonel Sanders of KFC.

“The KFC founder – Christian name Harland – first franchised the name that would become a global fast food brand in 1952, when he was all of 62-years old. Before that, he was worked as a railroad labourer, and managed companies that offered ferry services and acetylene lamps, until eventually running a motel. There, his fried chicken proved popular -but it was still 12 years before his secret recipe was sold in more than one place.”

— http://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/the-filter/10833943/Better-late-than-never-10-great-late-bloomers.html

I am so encouraged by this, technically  this means I have 35 more years (62-27=35) to carve out a musical career that I'm proud of, one that outlasts me. In a world that communicates in best-before dates and prescribed shelf lives, I'm challenged to know that our age shouldn't define us. We are all on a journey, and that journey will take as long as it takes. Rest assured that our time  is yet to come, and that we're never truly too old to follow our dreams.  Life is 80% out of our control,  but let 's invest the 20% that is into readying ourselves for  when our moment does come. Work hard, persist and be patient.  

But let this all be prefaced by the comforting fact that we are human be-ings, not human do-ings. A life well lived isn't defined by our output alone, but by the characteristics alchemised in the process. 

Sixty two.

Theoretically, this NYE should be a lot easier than last. 

THAT SUGAR FILM

If you do anything at all this year, please go and watch 'That Sugar Film'*, and stick to the outside isles of your supermarket. That's all. 

*but only if you're willing to be traumatised by the effects of sugar on your body, and vow to ostracise these tiny white cubes of dissolvable joy from all food groups henceforth. 

Well it's not quite that dramatic, but nearly. I don't consider myself to have a sweet tooth, although I understand the real Saturday brunch struggle between Eggs Benedict or Brioche French Toast (I want half portions of everything) ((but I don't want to be one of those annoying customers)). I also love cake, but I don't need cake - unless it is a Victoria Sponge with chantilly cream and fresh berries, or Chocolate Mud Cake from the Cheesecake Shop - mmmmmm. I've also just remembered my not-so-subtle addiction with V the energy drink (the only soft drink that outsells Coca-Cola in NZ), I can't find it in London though, so that has been a sad yet important reality. Okay so maybe I do have a sweet tooth. But this film isn't addressing the odd cake splurge or $1 spent on lucky dip lollies, no this film manages to highlight the amount of sugar found in every day items that typically aren't considered 'sweet' or 'naughty'. 

For example, a bonefied breakfast that I have grown up with usually involves cereal, milk, yoghurt & juice (if it made it first the past hour of being in the fridge)- but these foods combined often contain up to 40 tsp of sugar! Which is a lot. Some lunch and dinner items shocked me as well, the presenter went as far as putting actual sugar on things for greater impact, instead of Teriyaki Chicken Sauce, just sugar on cooked chicken, instead of powerade, just water with 7 tsp of sugar etc... I'm a visual person, so I particularly liked this part of the film.

Impact = achieved. 

Inspired = yes, so this morning I had:

1 x 3 seeded toast made with spelt flour (fancy) 1/4 Avo smashed with lemon juice, S & P, coriander, feta and buckwheat crumble, with a cup of green tea with a wedge of lemon. I'm feeling so good about this mornings life choices, I had to tell somebody. 

Buckwheat Crumble Recipe: Raw buckwheat, Olive Oil, Moroccan Spice, Smoked Paprika - then roast in the oven until crunchy - about 10-15 min 180 degrees. 

There's a lot more to be said about the film, but I don't want to miss the point of actually being challenged and inspired to avoid the amount of sugar that creepily finds its way into so much of my eating. I've thrown out my Miniwheats, Crunchy Nut, Greek Yoghurt, Tropicana, Celebrations Chocolate (so much better than Cadbury Favourites), and I'm very nearly close to throwing out my Nutella. That will be a sad day. I love that so many people are joining this movement though, I've found some amazing recipes to kick start my sugar-less way of life from Nadia Lim, Hemsley & Hemsley and Jaime Oliver. 

Nuff said. Go watch the film, and let's talk about it over cake. 

Show Your Work.

"I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it"

- Pablo Picasso

I am one those people that talk a lot about doing, but don't actually do. I've always been interested in making a living from being a musician, singer/songwriter. In order for that to happen though, people need to hear my music, know about my live shows and have the opportunity to get to know me. Deep down, I know the merit in regularly releasing material, being active, showing my work, but for the past 4 years I've been silent.

My creativity was housebound, with only the walls and floors privy to my musical prowess. I tweeted a handful of times (then deleted my profile), boycotted facebook, and was halfheartedly interested in instagram. I didn't upload a single cover, play a single gig, record or share any demos, and I didn't support any live grass root gigs. It was completely naive of me to think that I could still have a career doing what I love, whilst not doing these key things that contribute to the process. I learnt a lot from going into hiding, but I could have learnt it all in the light too. For me, I think that which I hold most dearly, care most about, want so badly, is bound by my endless, and often fruitless pursuit of perfection. 

The thought occurred to me in the throws of planning my weekly blog, that I find writing a blog easier than actually doing my music. In fact, I'd go as far to say as I enjoy this time more than researching protools tutorials and obsessing over rhyming the word flux. Yet I haven't studied writing, practiced writing, call myself a writer or can confidently argue grammar for hours. I think the trick here, is that I have no pressure to be good at this, and I have no sense of expectation from myself, or from other people. I'm simply doing it because I enjoy it and I can. In the same way people who love singing, upload covers on YouTube and have millions of views/followers, and now have successful music careers. It wasn't necessarily because of talent or circumstance, but because they shared their work. 

To the bonefied professional writers out there, who are more articulate, grammatically correct and witty than most, let my fledgling approach to writing, be motivation and encouragement for you to do what you do best. Write. Just like all the YouTube stars are inspiration for me. 

Nothing is wrong with pursuing excellence, if we don't muddle it with perfection. This pursuit, and it is in fact a pursuit, should liberate us on the journey to become masters of what we do. We need to learn from our mistakes, risk failure and embrace a novice attitude so we're always progressing, sharing and growing as artists. A great book for this is http://austinkleon.com/show-your-work/. 

Last week I challenged myself to release something. Below is what I achieved after an afternoon of work. There are so many errors, and elements that I am not happy with, but that is not the point. The point was acting on what I'm always talking about, and I will continue to do this until I reach a sense of excellence. I hope this encourages all the creative people out there, facing the same mental hurdles to get started as I do, to take the pressure off, and to get out there and show your work!

Famous Last Words

Within the space of 24 hours, I un-consciously watched three music documentaries. After the sheer brilliance of '20 Feet From Stardom', I was quite content to never see another biopic again (it was that good),  but I’m glad I ventured back into the world of music documentaries. My weekend trilogy started with 'Amy' by film maker Asif Kapadia, then 'Searching For Sugar Man' by Malik Bendjelloul, and culminated in 'Cobain: Montage Of Heck' by Brett Morgen. 

Since then, I've been trying, but ultimately failing, to find some deep philosophical common thread between all three documentaries. Essentially, Searching For Sugar Man made this impossible. Amy & Cobain are obviously similar, exceptional talent catapulted into global stardom from a young age, and a shared disdain for fame and paparazzi. Both Winehouse and Cobain carried demons from their childhoods and were known for drug and alcohol abuse. Ultimately, both Amy and Kurt tragically joined the infamous mausoleum of 27 year olds. Their untold stories revealed in home video footage and testimonial tears of close friends and family packed a punch. And the tragedy of hindsight left a residue of weightiness for the viewers. Even though like Titanic, you knew what was coming, the loss of life is unbearably sad, leaving you asking 'what if'?

Searching For Sugar Man was similarly sad initially, but had an important silver lining. Now, as an immediate disclaimer, please stop reading this if you haven't seen Searching For Sugar Man, and you think you might want too. I highly recommend watching it! 

So to those of you who are still with me, you'll know that Rodriguez (comparable to Bob Dylan's song writing, but not his voice) was similarly talented,  carried huge potential, and could have been a popular musical heavyweight like Amy and Kurt. Unfortunately though, after recording two albums, his acclaim barely expanded beyond Detroit's borders, and subsequently Rodriguez was dropped from his label at a young age. Around this time, his music stumbled into South Africa, and was embraced wholeheartedly. His music, specifically his album 'Cold Fact', was the soundtrack in many South African households in the 70's and 80's. This album also inspired and liberated people, especially artists, to speak freely and boldly during the apartheid. After generations worth of speculation and Chinese whispering, it was rumoured Rodriguez had committed suicide, naturally so, after no new albums or tour dates were ever released. More than twenty years after Cold Fact found its way into SA, two passionate fans decided to collectively answer the question; how did Rodriguez die? In the film, the duos enthusiasm is infectious; you too are just as intrigued and perplexed by the mysteriousness of Rodriguez. 

Eventually, Rodriguez’s face appears as a missing person on a cyber space milk carton, an effort the pair hope will yield some Cold Facts *dry*. This ultimately results in a pivotal trice; Rodriguez is still alive! And in this moment, the three stories briefly correlate for me, as I’m left asking questions that start with a double ewe.

In this case, what if Rodriguez, his producers, or his label, knew of his success? What if America had embraced him? What if he had known he was famous? What if he had a chance to create more music? What would have happened if he had never found out? Where did all the money go? Why did his music take off in SA, but not in the USA? 

Regardless of the years of missed revenue, greater influence and global acknowledgment, I found Rodriguez to be just as impressive without fame, as he would have been with it. I think he is arguably one of the most authentic examples of unbridled tenacity of the human spirit. Nobody wants a short-shelf-life kind of career, and when dropped from his label, I'm sure there would have been a huge sense of loss and disappointment. But Rodriguez essentially said 'sa la vie', earned a humble living as a manual labourer, raised three daughters, and even had a go at running for mayor. Made lemonade by way of understanding that life is fickle, unpredictable and often unfair. He refused to carry disillusionment and bitterness when the temptation too would have been palpable. Success isn't just a life lived under bright lights , a wad of hundies (hundred dollar bills), and millions of eyes on you. The unheralded types of success, like great parenthood, providing for your family, contributing to the lives of those around you, cultivating community and extending hospitality, are just as influential as fame. Be it a million eyes, or a few eyes, your legacy is yours to create, and will endure.

As a musician, I'm encouraged that Rodriguez eventually learnt of the scope of his influence as a poet, musician and songwriter. Knowing that my story may not have a simple trajectory that I often hope it will. Praise be for the people of South Africa and their taste in music, who weren't determined by culture or swayed by majority. I'm encouraged that good music germinates, regardless of marketing, infrastructure, hype and a million dollar budget.  I'm thankful that his story didn't end in Americas rejection, but that Rodriguez found contentment in spite of dashed dreams, and lived a life of influence though living out Plan B . His silver lining encourages all people, creative or not, who are living with unrealised dreams, to continue hoping, but to seek fulfilment in the mean time. 

This story inspires me to hope that if what I produce is good enough, it might make it into the homes, hearts, and hands of people that need it most. And that those same people, might track me down if they think I'm dead. I will continue to be persistent in what I hope for, but content in the meantime, and if I find fame at 65, that’s fine by me. 

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Songwriting Part 1: Creative Write

I've been songwriting for many years, and it doesn't get any less frustrating over time. 

But like any skill, some muscles need to be exercised, and a little bit of routine or discipline goes a long way. So I start my day with a creative write- three pages of nothingness. Or I put a 10 minute timer on, don't think, and write whatever comes out (regardless of how nonsensical it may appear). This way, when you have time, you can go back and underline any ideas or phrases that might be worth keeping, and explore them.

Another option within the creative writing realm, is to pick an emotion, and pair it with an object. Sia often does this (Elastic Heart, Chandelier, Titanium). Try and explore the object/emotion from a what, where, why, how perspective. You'll be surprised how much your lyric writing will improve by doing this. 

And if you are anything like me, a really nice new pen & notebook is a great motivator. New gear for new habits, that's why I have so many gym clothes. 

Another thing I've recently started doing is 15-20 minutes songwriting the moment I wake up, and just before I go to bed. This avoids mental exhaustion, scrutinising over that one lyric, and hours of unproductiveness. Essentially, this approach gives our minds a breather, we come to a writing session fresh and inspired, and hopefully our subconscious does a little work for us in the interim. 

Someone once told me songwriting is 10% inspiration, and 90% perspiration. So to combat the sweat, try these little tricks to help keep your creativity flowing.

C x

Silver Screen, Silver Platter.

Maybe I just don’t want it bad enough.

You won’t find me lined up under a suburban sun, periodically sheltered by the drifting shadows of a hard-to-get-to arena. Nor will I arrive anywhere by 6am, if I’m not needed until 6pm. I like food and water, and won’t fast no matter how good my spot is. I will not tailor my look to be the right amount of crazy, my story the right amount of sad, and my voice the right amount of eager, (even if I am accosted by a headset toting crowd controller and asked to do so). I don’t have the energy to impress pubescent producers and no named experts; I’m simply a figurative Eeeyore when it comes to this sort of thing.

Yet millions of people gather each year, auditioning for a sparkly career & instant success by way of winning a reality TV music competition. This week, I became one of those people...

Thankfully I missed all of the above, as I was scouted for The Voice UK (instead of attending the open auditions), but I did hear horror stories from my fellow scoutees. I didn’t manage to avoid over 5 hours of nervously waiting for my name to be called, or feeling like cattle being shuffled from one room to the next. I smiled to myself in elevator rides filled with the humming of scales and the rolling of lips. I couldn't help but role my eyes amidst endless guitar tuning, 9am stage makeup and doe eyed hopefuls. I genuinely felt for those with watery eyes in hotel corridors though. Overall, it was a memorable experience, made bearable by the incredibly kind and welcoming staff of 'The Voice'. 

I am not expecting a call back after my audition (I gave myself a 6/10). But this opportunity has opened my eyes to a very slick operation, operating under the premise of producing 'stars', but it could be ratings, I'm not sure. 

There are obvious benefits to being on this type of show, and many people have had their careers kick started this way. However, the undercurrent belying this generational shift in the way we find and nurture talent, has many artists grasping at proverbial straws, wondering how they got there, and if this is the only way.

The reality is, there are thousands of artists with legitimate potential going unnoticed each season, and there are countless winners who no none remembers. As an artist, what is the appeal? To try and impress a biased, mind-already-made-up producer? To have your skills overlooked, in favour of people who are so bad, they are good to watch? To have your life deemed too sane and your talent too polished? And if you win, 'oh you won X Factor' *deathly silence*, or 'can you do anything besides sing covers?'. Winning or loosing, you've got your work cut out for you. 

Surely as contributors and consumers of reality TV, we need to know that ratings often trump talent. And at the end of the day, it is a TV show first and foremost. 

This competition is great for the artist who has grown up wanting to be great at what they do, instead of wanting to be famous. The show can be like a surgical procedure- the breaking of bad techniques and the stitching up of by professionals, and I would milk the show for all it's worth as a contestant (knowing the gold is in the journey). But for the artist who hasn’t experienced an open-mic night fail, watched and appreciated the slow and steady incline of social media followers, and lived an unmanaged, unsigned, un-financed life within the music industry, the show acts more like a Band-Aid. Ninety seconds worth of stage time (verse 1, chorus, big bridge, dramatic quiet chorus), a live band and some sequins mustn't be the goal. This approach is a quick fix, a way of fast tracking or bypassing the hard work that’s involved in building a career.  

You don't want your success to roll out with the credits.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy though, in and amongst the waves of mediocre talent and fame seekers lining the pavements each year, is knowing the record labels are getting lazier because of it. There aren’t too many serious artists that I know of, hoping their BIOs read ’contended in such-an-such talent show’, but most of us are belittling our talent (singing covers instead of our own material, singing in genres we don't love, not playing our instruments) in front of millions each night, because how else will we get signed? How else will we get noticed? If the only way we find and support new talent, both as industry folk and as music lovers, is by way of sitting on the sofa, actual talent will disappear as fast as the careers these types of shows produce.

A successful career is built by labels investing in ‘works in progress’, not finished projects. It’s built by a collection of people possessing vision, long-sightedness, and a commitment to the long haul. It’s built on the support of fans showing up to midweek gigs, and inviting their friends to like a band page. It’s built on an artist’s ability to evolve, grow, work hard and persist. A career is not built from a silver screen alone, it’s from a belief that great things take time, and don’t come on silver platters. 

Cable Love.

Hi folks,

This is my first ever blog post! And to kick things off I'm starting with the  m o s t  exciting topic I could think of...correctly coiling a lead. Now bare with (for the Miranda fans out there), this isn't just for the singers/musicians among us- this can be applied to any household electronic device (i.e ladies hair straighteners). 

I remember being taught this way back at Excel School of Performing Arts, a whole afternoon was devoted to this lesson (I'm not even joking).  The litmus test to prove  you were acing your coiling, was to throw the lead straight out in front of you and to not see any knots (a lot got straightened out that day if you know what I mean). There's nothing more frustrating than untying knots when you're setting up for a gig. So first step for any singer or musician starting out, is to master this early on, it will speak volumes in terms of your professionalism & helpful approach. 

Now I would have never have known anything about this mysterious world of correctly coiled cables, if it weren't for music. And over time this has become an obsession that has left no electronic device of mine untouched. It started when I first saw a black mangled cord woven around the base of my mothers hair dryer, since then, my compulsion to train obstinate wires back into order hasn't wained in the slightest. So I'm sharing this little video (feat hayfever laden eyeballs)  so everyone can look after their expensive gear both at home and at work. 

Hope you enjoyed this! Happy coiling.

C x

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