The Chase

Sometimes, or more often than sometimes we try too hard to grab hold of something - like a dog chasing its tail.
It's so hard to distinguish between things that need work and pursuit
and the ones that won't be achieved if they're chased too hard.

A purpose to your song.

"I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard traveling.

I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built. 

I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work."

Woody Guthrie on songwriting.

A Little Kick in the Mojo

Hugo Turquet, the A&R Manager from BMG Chrysalis gave a guest lecture today. He gave his opinion on our music too. Born on the Wings of a Butterfly is a song I've been riding for a couple months now. The overwhelmingly positive responses I've been gaining from playing it have led me to believe there really is something special about it. My tutors have also taken an interest in the tune, which gave me even more hope that the song might hold the key I need to open the right doors. Hugo didn't see it. He got bored during the second half of the song and told me I struggle in my upper register. Honest. And much appreciated. I admit I was surprised. I didn't expect that at all. But strangely it excited me to continue improving. I've gotten a bit lazy lately. And this was a strong, awakening dose of reality. On I go.

Diggin' Moles

Tonight was beautiful. I've wanted to play at Moles Cafe ever since I moved to Bath a few months ago - and tonight I did. I had a gorgeous response - more than I could have wished for. I am deeply indebted to all my friends that came to support me and make it an unforgettable evening.
And if the night wasn't going well enough, the band Grace played next door at the Porter after my gig - recording a live album. What a face melt. Honored to have been there.
These are the kind of nights I will reminisce about when I'm old and grey in a few years.

backbone swung over my shoulder

I could spend my life fitting it back into place

Or I could love my fragile companion

A Fine Evening

Last night I was invited by my new host family to a charity event that they had worked to organize. It took place in an old mansion called Jaggard's House. There, after having served food and wine to the participants, I sat by the fire in the main room. The enormous chimney had the date 1657 encrypted into it. I was asked to pull out my guitar and sing a few tunes. The people gathered around on the couch and chairs, listening and sipping the last of the wine.

"House belonged to a holding referred to in 1340, held by Kington family c1560-1766, passed to J. Shore, Leir family and in 1866 to J.B.Fuller of Neston Park"

My New Home in the Wilderness

Today I moved yet again. The old couple I'm staying with have a beautiful old home with antique furniture and all sorts of period decorations. Two giant male labradors rule the downstairs area, but luckily my room is upstairs furnished with an elegant wardrobe through which I may be able to enter Narnia. It feels peculiar typing on my computer in this place. I should be writing on paper with a feather pen - an oil lamp illuminating my page from the corner of this old wooden desk.
It is quiet here, although every half hour or so I can hear the London-Bristol train pass right behind the Wilderness - which is what the house is called. (In England, the practice of naming one's house is not uncommon).
I have a good feeling that I'll enjoy living here. Let's at least hope it plays out better than last time.

Do you have to know?

how did they carry the rocks to Stonehenge

and why would they bring them there?

did the gods come down to feel the ground

and leave behind their chairs?

Or maybe angels built a tomb

for all the questions shadowing earth and the moon

you wanna know where you’re coming from

you wanna know where you go

there’s nothing your mind doesn’t wonder about

cuz you’re a creature with a curious soul

but momma always told me

some things are better left unknown

a secret needs its mystery

like a fire needs the coal

so if you’re burning to know

sonny don’t get too close

let the darkness have its night to hide

and the graveyards keep their ghosts

He's a Dead Man

I took a break from my work and walked over to the pub next door for a drink and a casual conversation. I happened to sit next to two women in their late fifties. One of them wanted very much to know where I'm staying and kept emphasizing that she is the post-lady in this town. She was far from sober. I told her I didn't know the house number. The other lady was from Wales but moved to Virginia decades ago where she became very successful raising and training horses. She told me a story of a man that came to cut down some trees in her yard and refused payment. Touched by his generosity she invested in a logging business with him. It bloomed as did their love and after six years they planned on getting married. The wedding was set for this September and much of her family was planning on flying over from England to attend the joyous celebration. Her sister flew into Dallas, so the lady went to meet her there. When the two got back to Virginia, the logger was gone with all the money. Turns out he knocked up some 25 year old woman too. He's a dead man, she says. She's going to kill him.
I finished my pint and went back home, making sure the post-lady wasn't watching which way I walked.

Very Polite Indeed, Mizer Price

Is it worth being polite when you don't mean it? Maybe once, twice.
But if you are constantly holding in what you actually want to say -
well, you can still be polite, but say what you bloody mean!
Otherwise, how can anyone know what's really happening and how you actually feel.

I was recording a song in my bedroom late Sunday afternoon - just some acoustic guitar and vocals.
Alex falls into my room in his bathrobe screaming at me - complaining about my
constant music playing and singing and then the waterfall started. He has TRIED to be polite... 
but I don't seem to get it, he yells.
He began listing off all the tiniest things that have bugged him over the past three months of me living there.
I stood and listened calmly, which aggravated him even further and he ordered me to get the hell out immediately.
I did just that. Packed my things and am staying with a friend now.

The funny thing is - Alex is not my landlord. His mother is. All financial agreements and otherwise were
communicated between her and I. And yet, this thirty some year old jobless coked out drunk, who is nothing but a burden to his poor old widowed mother, kicks me out in a bloody rage for playing music. I'm sure Francis Barraud would be so proud of his descendent.

Plenty of musicians get kicked out at least once in their life. Let's hope it's only once.

Born on the Wings of a Butterfly

she slices through the air

dark silky hair

diamonds in her skin

an angel-like complexion

where can you find

such beauty so divine?

all eyes on the girl

from another world

she walks right into the eyes of all her passer by’s

she was born on the wings of a butterfly

born on the wings of a butterfly

But to kiss her was to vanish and the boys could only wish

they could ride on the wings of a butterfly

ride on the wings of a butterfly

when she lights that grin

you know you just can’t win

she’s foxlike on the tongue

seducing everyone

surrender your strings

all you puppet-like things

your life is just a toy

she will play and you will enjoy

she walks right into the eyes of all her passer by’s

she was born on the wings of a butterfly

born on the wings of a butterfly

But to kiss her was to vanish and the boys could only wish

they could ride on the wings of a butterfly

ride on the wings of a butterfly   

one day she’ll fly away cuz she always does

you’ll be left behind

with all the other wooden boys

that she blinded and paralyzed

when she walked so pretty into their eyes

one little flutter

could change the utter

Meaning of your life

is there anything i want to say?
if i have to ask myself, i suppose not.

The Writing's On the Wall

I guess that is how you know you care.
You can feel it deep down in your cells.
And when it hurts, it hurts each one of them.
Billions of tiny stings.
Eventually the sensation becomes a bit numbing.
Luckily the little guys adapt and evolve.
Somehow the system carries on.

Occupy

Wall Street, Boston, Frankfurt and London

We are the 99 percent, let’s make a difference in this land

But it won’t

Rise up on its own

Needs the strength of our souls

No it won’t

Climb up over the mountain

Unless we link and join in

Occupy our town

Occupy the ground

That we love and are proud to fight for

But it won’t, No it won’t

Speak up on its own

It needs the choice of our voice

No it won’t

Fly across the heavens

Unless we spread out our wings

Occupy our town

Occupy the ground

That we love and are proud to fight for

Morning greets us new founded creatures

We’re not wasting chances this day brings

Cuz we’ll grow, yea we’ll go

Rise up over this mountain

In a global revolution

Occupy your town

Occupy the ground

That you love and are proud to fight for

Food Baby

A friend of mine invited me to dinner tonight. He recently landed a job as a food critic and his first assignment was to dine at a nice french restaurant and review the experience. I was his lucky guest. The spending limit was thirty five pounds. Considering I don't usually eat for more than five pounds - I went to town. A few starters, a couple main courses and dessert, all accompanied by a couple glasses of mature red wine. We ate for two and a half hours. Which means I'll probably be digesting for the next seventy-two hours. I didn't mean to punish myself. In fact, I approached the invitation as a fine prize. But walked away from it with choking arteries.

a tune born in the shadow of a castle

I’m addicted to change and motion

I’ll never be the same

This drug is a most delicious tasting potion

This drug is a most discretely potent notion

I’m addicted to change and motion

I’m a freedom slave

I feel the whole world just turning in my brain

This drug is a most effective cure for pain

I’m addicted to change and motion

I misplaced my names

I breathe like a ghost appearing and dissolving

This drug is the most forgiving friend of all things

I’m addicted to change and motion

Sitting at the top of a hill...

I watch the sun lean in to kiss lady land,
He reaches down with shiny fingers
His gentle touch caressing her hair -
the lusciously groomed grasses and trees

The heavens blush with warm pinks and golds
Setting the atmosphere for an intimate dance
Celestial bodies spinning with unrivaled grace
Their love passionately burning in the sky

And after the breathtaking ballet,
He sinks into her ever so slowly
And I know it's time to go
When the dark navy clouds pull the shades

Morning Prayer

"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."
(Jack London)

A Walk for Sanity

I haven't disappeared. But things have appeared. Quickly and abundantly.
I'm not necessarily overwhelmed, just fumbling a little bit this week as I try to juggle it all.
Thursday night felt like a much anticipated success. The people at Grappa seemed to enjoy
my playing and singing. I was invited to perform again, which is one of the best compliments one can receive.
The Songwriting Course kicked off without me in the stadium. By the time I got there the game was in full play.
I'm paying the penalty a little now as I scramble to catch up, but luckily every bit of it is truly enjoyable. Took a long stroll to reset a my mind. I feel better, although I wanted to stay out there in the back fields where there were no cars or streets. Just cows and greens.

Rain-Sized Stones

The climate was introducing itself to me

careless downpour seemed to laugh

It found my face under the hood

covered it with its silly wetness

The cottons and denim my body was cloaked in

quickly gained weight

filling up with the nutritional liquid

forcing itself down in abundance

I only had a few more minutes walk

before I reached the house

I began speaking to the skies

pleading with them

But as I begged for relief,

the shower only amplified

rain-sized stones pelting my audacity

I started to smile, then to chuckle

until finally I burst out laughing at myself

I could feel the rain's victory

and my surrender

opening up the door

to our long, wet friendship

What is Your PUrpose?

pluck away at the strings you perpetually try to tune
and when your gaze reaches past what you can see - - -
enjoy.

Chicken Dance

Went to the local grocery store, Sainsbury, to pick up some foods. They have hot ready made chicken I like to get there - saves me lots of time and money actually. I told the man behind the deli counter I won't be able to eat the garlic and herb chicken thighs till later that night and asked if he thought it would be alright for me to microwave them later. Yes, but officially - no, he said. He's supposed to tell me no.
So, is it alright or not? I ask again.
No, no. But he does it all the time and feels fine.
Right. Ok. I'll take 4 pieces then. Cheers.

A Work In Progress - Join In!

Who told you that you’re naked

Was it love

I ask - was it hate

Or was it the envy that just couldn’t bare to wait

Was it rain

Was it the flame

Or was it the ones that were wishing to be the same

"Was it...." What do you think? Please leave a comment with your thoughts on the quandary - Thanks!

How Many People Does It Take To Hug A Tree?

Explored a bit of Bristol today with a group of international friends. Sitting in the college greens and basking in the sun was probably the best part. And of course the black currant ice cream with white chocolate and honey comb crunch was a pleasant treat. We are getting better at making decisions as a group, though it's not always easy to coordinate half a dozen people - each from a different country. I can apply to work for the UN after hanging with all these various children of the Earth.

Sing for Life

I had a 5 hour choir rehearsal this morning with the Bath Choral Society. I am one of the youngest people in the choir, bringing the age average down by 50 years probably. As I looked around, I was suddenly delighted and my heart was warmed to see all these older folks singing their guts out. Most of them are actually in surprisingly good shape. I wonder if it's music that helps keep them well and alive. Sign me up for life.

Cheet, I missed my last bus again!

Living a ways from the city center is becoming more of an inconvenience as I gain more reasons to stay out on the town at night.  Buses don't run very late and taxis only get more expensive at night. I'm always on the lookout for good accommodation with a better location, but it will be very hard to find something as cheap and comfortable as my current home stay. Living with some of these new friends has crossed my mind, but I don't know if that's a good idea as far as having a good study environment. At least here where I'm at, things are quiet and I believe I can get along with these people long term.

checks and balances

how much time should i allow myself to relax? i think as much time as i want as long as it's still relaxing. if i'm sitting around and thinking about things i should be doing and want to be doing then i'm not relaxing, so then i know it's time to be working. and vice versa. when i'm working i want to be productive. and i will be productive till i start thinking about needing to relax.

Pipe Organ

Our voices are organs. Physical and spiritual organs. Our bodies and lungs like pipes. Mediums of sound.

Vale vale

Practiced some Espanol yesterday with the Spanish international students. Things start coming back when you hang around the language. Mi objectivo es para componar una cancion espanola antes de termino del ano. Bueno suerto!

Rockin Robyn

a swell evening at the Porter. good music. smooth beers. lovely chats.

shake shake shake this town
and bathe in roman pools
shake shake shake this town
and dance away the rules (like fools)

take janet to the planet where she's treated like a goddess
malika to the milky way to give her what she needs
and bathe, and play in the pain(t)

Judy and the Castle

Wandering about the area today I came across a little castle up the hill and in the trees. Turns out I was trespassing on a private estate but the lady Judy was very nice and told me to go around back to view the garden. This "garden" was monstrous, with an old wall and creaky little doors from section to section. I had to walk through a little tunnel made of overhanging trees and plants. The little stone steps led me to a small orchard and pumpkin patch. The entire thing overlooked exquisitely green pastures. Carpets of life. I asked if I could come back sometimes to sit about and write. She would be delighted.

Wild Wildlife Dreams

Before I go on to describe my dream from last night, I did want to mention something that happened towards the end of my busking this past Saturday. I was playing my last song when a guy working at the shop nearest to me posted a sign on his door saying "we are OPEN, just closed the door to drown out the awful busking." His name was Ashley. I stopped playing and told him that he could have just talked to me like a regular human being instead of posting a rude comment on his door. Earlier that day a group of girls asked for my autograph. Just goes to show how greatly musical taste differs.

I woke up laying in a hammock on some gorgeous beach. Looking to my right I saw a magnificent spider web stretched across the stakes that were holding up my resting place. In the middle of the web was a tiny sea turtle and caught in its design were tiny red birds as well as a few bees still buzzing. A cheetah sat closely licking the sweet dew off the web and the yellow insects. What a fantastic morning.

The fruit of a day's work.

I was busking in the streets again. A girl put an orange in my guitar case. Sweet.

K. O.

One of the gentlemen I collaborate with - Konrad - wanted to take me out to the city last night to show me Bath from his point of view. The man is very passionate and excited about working on music with me and so we got some beers and went to sit by the river in a truly stunning place. A couple fellas walking by asked my friend for a cigarette and as he was looking for his pack, one of the youngsters turned to me and said I look nervous. I didn't know why he would assume such a thing but before I could even finish answering him, Konrad got in the punk's face and started threatening him. I guess he has a really protective nature. The challenged teenager punched my friend in the face, knocking him to the ground. They ran off calling him a pussy. Konrad lay there not responding till his family came to pick him up. I had called them for help.
Last night I saw a part of Bath that I would love to see again.
Last night I saw a part of Man that I never want to see again.

Sphere Envy

Pricey pulled out his poetry. Smoking fag after fag and drinking wine glass after glass he showed me his past scribbled passions. On one old piece of paper he had composed his "sphere envy theory." Humanity craves balance but falls short of the most balanced body there is - a sphere - our planet - our Mother. Realizing that we are each a part of the Earth's balance just may bring internal peace and ease the frustration involved with trying to become... like a sphere.

Focus.

There is so much one could do. Even within a specific area like music the avenues are countless. And so are the dead ends. To be content with a day's efforts, one needs to be aware of their worth in the grand scheme of things. In order to do that, there needs to be a grand scheme put in place. Or maybe the grand scheme is a work in progress based on each brick of effort that is produced daily. Can I know what I'm going to end up with if I can only lay one brick a day? What impossible discipline it would take to plan the entire structure in advance and stick to the blue print exactly! I suppose the beauty of life lies in the ability to decide each day where to lay the next brick and then observe how that affects what you do with the next day. Happy building my friends.

Feelin cozy.

I've been thinking lately - I actually really like living here in the Price residence. It's quiet and comfortable and the folks are extremely friendly. I'm even growing fond of the two large dogs - which is quite an accomplishment for me considering I've never had any pets and am not used to living with animals. I don't mind the giant spiders either. They just sit there. Watching.

Take me to the river. To the river Avon.

Standing near this place you can't stop your thoughts from floating away. I didn't know what I was thinking anymore. Just that I liked what I saw. 

Singing in the Rain

My first day busking by that tree in the centre of town. Someone is cooking something downstairs. My stomach perked up like a dog at the door. 

The spot I chose, near the afore mentioned tree, was under a sort of short tunnel between buildings. It trickled on and off, and when it did, people found shelter under there. And they listened to me play and sing. And they liked it, their smiles said. No one really plays there. I play there now.

Who told you you're naked?

Just woke up from a peculiar dream. I was one of hundreds of people taking an exam for something. The first test was written. We had to walk around in this large old city alley and write everything that was “rock” about it. A rock test. I talked about the cracks in the walls and the echo of footsteps of rebels taking the alley way instead of the streets. At one point there was a race. We had to run down this muddy road after the test givers chased a bunch of scared cows onto our path. The cows seemed to be running at us as we ran towards them. Not quick enough to maneuver around them at the speed I was running I simply jumped over the beasts. My family was there. They seemed happy.

Standing at the bus stop I saw...

A grey old couple locking up their vet clinic and getting into their silver Mercedes without a word; they ride off under the dark clouds down the dull beaten road. 

Heaven on Earth

There’s a cheddar gorge I’ve learned of today. You can just go there and eat the shit out of it.

The words just came with the rain.

Peering through the leaves

Found them looking back at me

But shadows use no words

Their callings bore by the worlds

You caught it again

Didn’t think it would stick to your hand

But who says you get to choose

When you win or lose

Keeping one shoe tied

And the other one loose

Never know when you might get bored

Tripping over your (holes)

What do you think about

when your’re looking below?

Do you think of your mother?

Or back at your childhood foes?

Spent the day at the Zaleski household. A single mom with four grown sons. And two pet ducks and a pair of guinea pigs too. They are trying to incubate some of the duck eggs and today as the oldest son was tending to them, he accidently cracked one. The dispute was whether to cut her off from whatever she was attached to on the inside of the shell, or just leave her in the incubator the way she was. They should have gone with the first choice. Baby duck burials don’t give one peace of mind.

Bring it on, oh saturated skies!

Come down on me and soak my bones

Come down on me in rain sized stones

Jammed with Jacob Tyghe today. Good guy. Told me a true story. He was on tour with his band for 2 months one summer. Best time of his life. Came back from gigging to his regular job doing some hard labor. His first assignment was to move a pile of horse shit the size of a living room with a pitchfork from one place to another. “How demoralizing,” the musician says.

The warm welcome wears off

British weather finally showed its true face today. Dark, rainy and windy. And I took the wrong bus. Can’t blame the clouds for that one. 

Not feeling well? - Your socks may be too tight.

I was given a new pair of socks by a 60 year old man who claimed that mine were cutting off my circulation because they’re too tight. Walked about town in my new socks singing and whistling. Trying to find a good spot acoustically to set up in the future and play for the townspeople and tourists. I think the big tree in the city center will be my place. No one else plays there as far as I know. At least not yet.

Andy's Gonna Sleep Tonight

Slept in. Finished writing “Andy’s Gonna Sleep Tonight.” Played for countless hours. This old house has beautiful acoustics. And now my nail is filed down past the point of comfort.

His Master's Voice

Moved into the Price residence today. Alex took me out. A lot of people seem to know him. His friends and he think I fell into the right household because he knows people, they say. Music folks like the studio manager at Moles. The guitarist from The Verve. The Heavy. His great grandfather was Francis Barraud, the man who painted “His Master’s Voice.” I used a copy of this painting of the dog “Nipper” listening to a gramophone in my JMS research project at Millikin University just a few months ago. Thank you Mr. Barraud. Strange happenings, eh?

"I like the strumming" - anonymous

I began the month of September by going out on the town and talking to everyone and anyone I came across. The mission, besides spreading smiles, was to find a place to keep my head and things at night for the next three weeks before I am allowed to move into the studio apartment I’ve rented. Honestly, I was seeking for a charitable good-willed offer in exchange for work or music. I told my story and gave out my phone number to a few good folks in hopes that they might hear of something suitable. The beautiful lady Jane in the tourist information center responded by saying she would take me in. Then chuckled nervously as her co-working ladies gave us a disapproving glance and butted in with information about websites for finding room shares. Jane had the right idea. But I was too mixed up at the moment to enquire further about the seriousness of her offer.

I wrote some lyrics when I got home:

lookin for a place to crash

though he doesn’t have no cash

would you buy his smile

and his singing style

hey hey man

I respect the way you travel the land

Just playing your tunes

Won’t you liven up my rooms

Andy’s gonna sleep tonight

Andy’s gonna eat tonight

Andy’s gonna write you a song

To keep his living going

Lookin for a lovely match

Though he can’t attach

Would you buy his smile

Even for a little while

Hey hey boy

I like the way you’re strumming that toy

I’ve got the perfect place for you 
to rest your head my friend

Andy’s gonna sleep tonight

Andy’s gonna eat tonight

Andy’s gonna write you a song

To keep his loving on

Before going to bed, I found a note on my door at the hostel I’m staying at. It read:

“I like the strumming :D”

You would think it would hurt more.

They say there is a first for everything. Even getting hit by a bus. Luckily it just felt like a hard nudge on my shoulder, but it was still quite a chilling surprise. Lesson learned: do not walk on the side of the road – stay on the sidewalk at all times!

"Welcome friend, and enjoy my beauty." - Lady England

Taking the Heathrow Connect train into Bath today, my jaw was quite literally dropping at the scenery along the way. The clouds displayed a variety of shades of grey and some seemed so close to the ground you could touch them. Royal green fields and hills complimented the woolen sky and seemed to boast the glory of the land.