Saturday 8 July 2006

on holiday
It's good to have time to think. Things gradually unravel in your head while your foreground activity is contemplating clouds or birds, clambering across rocks, jumping into the sea, or cycling against a vicious headwind. Or washing up.

This morning I saw the printed programme for Crear, which I have to say to my eyes radiates spectacularly inflated ideas of its own self-importance. Smug factor 10. (The website's not so bad.)  Notwithstanding my previous paragraph and the experience of a couple of weeks ago, I've never really bought into the 'escape away from your life into the country to be creative' thing. I think real life fires creativity more effectively. You just need time to get the stuff out. But classical music seems to encourage that 'get away from it all' approach: is that because engaging with classical music is really a cultural escape (even if a welcome temporary one) from the contemporary world?

On holiday I've had a chance to consider my ever-decreasing desire to make records. It now seems like such a convoluted way to disseminate music, when there are more direct means available. Not only is the process complicated and drawn-out, but the revenue generated for us is minuscule, unless we sell the things ourselves. By the time our 'Lion' CD comes out it will have been nearly three years since we started recording it. So I suspect that it will be our last, unless of course a record company actually commissions us with hard cash to make another, but that sort of thing doesn't happen much these days. 

Having product to sell at gigs is great, but limited edition short runs that we make ourselves would be just as much fun, and there is our back catalogue of course. What I think we must pursue instead of further CD releases is making our music available for purchase and download here on our website. Globally, issues of music copyright are continually in flux at the moment, and in any case we own most of our recordings already. But this clunky old site needs some investment.

I remember years ago reading Bob Geldof say that one of the best things about being in a band was getting into other people's gigs for free. Well, one of the nice things about making records is that people tend to give you records. A while ago, someone handed me K. McCarty's album of Daniel Johnston songs Dead Dog's Eyeball (Dan J had an early childhood encounter with the words to I am the Walrus as did I), and this week I've finally got around to listening to it. Over and over. What great songs. What sympathetic, beautifully judged arrangements and singing. I like it very much. 

I also like Dick & Dom in da Bungalow - The Album very much. In theory I brought it along to keep the kids amused in the car, but in the front seats we've been regularly bursting out laughing at the sheer inventive ridiculousness of it all. It reminds me of very happy times spent writing songs for children's theatre, where we were entertaining ourselves as much as our intended audience. If it didn't make you laugh when you wrote it, no-one else was going to laugh at it either. Andy Blythe and Marten Joustra, I salute you.