" Sometimes I'm working on getting by
sometimes I'm climbing the walls
sometimes I'm working on me and you
lately I ain't been working at all "
- Broken Hearts and Love Letters -
- Erik Koskinen -
It's been raining for two weeks solid. The streets look like shiny black snakes, man made arteries of the city. Koskinen on the radio, Bukowsi in my head. Love is a dog from hell.... someone's been reading my mail. I'm staring at notebooks full of lyrics, half completed songs, ideas. Forgotten emotions put to paper that never got to see the light. I use these books and stacks of lyrics written on everything from plane tickets to airsick bags the way a mechanic would use car parts from one vehicle to make another run. Nothing is off limits. Whatever works. Sometimes you've got all the words and no melody, some days the words just won't come. The best ones come all at once. Like Leonard Cohen said in an interview just before he passed away, if he'd known where the best songs came from he'd go there more often.
I'm happy to report that I don't have a specific method or magic process. What I do know is that I do my best writing when I get out of own way, leave my ego at the door and just sit my ass down and write. I've been writing a lot lately and out of that I've found some songs that I'm grateful for and really proud of. Songs that we're difficult to write in more ways than one but songs I'm eager to share with you.
I've been busy this week getting everything ready for the release of a full band EP I recorded with my friends during the winter of 2020. The band brought soul and skill to the table and Jaco Naudè helped me get the sounds in my head onto the recordings. Keep an eye on social media for the release date and if you you'd like to help spread the word it would be greatly appreciated. I am proud of the work and hope that you can find your own stories, experiences and joy in these songs. I'll be back on the road as soon as these lockdown restrictions ease up and traveling becomes a viable option again. Until then I'm planning some Facebook Livestream events with the guys from Audioculture and I'm still available to do living room shows, intimate venues and campfires. I can come alone or bring a few friends for a bigger presence. I will also be doing a sunset show with my friend and fellow songwriter Gerhard Jacobs at the The Gecko Inn in the beautiful Vredefort Dome.
I stumbled upon this absolutely beautiful poem a few weeks ago while listening to The Working Songwriter podcast by Joe Pug and I feel that it's essential reading. It shook me to the core and it felt quite relevant today. I got up and while standing in front of the mirror I realized that I am sharing a deep resemblance with my Grandfather.
We said goodbye to him this month three years ago. My father lost his way and for reasons far too many to discuss or bore you with here, there's still no headstone on his grave. It's a shame and I apologize grandpa. As soon as I have the strength and courage to set foot on Tygerfontein again I will get to it and mark your piece of land in a way that pays homage to the man you were and the inspiration you still are to me.
Temporarily in Oxford
Where they will bury me
I don't know.
Many places might not be
sorry to store me.
The Midwest has right of origin.
Already it has welcomed my mother
to its flat sheets.
The English fens that bore me
have been close curiously often.
It seems I can't get away from
dampness and learning.
If I stay where I am
I could sleep in this educated earth.
But if they are kind, they'll burn me
and send me to Vermont.
I'd be an education for the trees
and would relish, really,
flaring into maple each October—
my scarlet letter to you.
Your stormy north is possible.
You will be there, engrossed in its peat.
It would be handy not
to have to cross the whole Atlantic
each time I wanted to
lift up the turf and slip in beside you.
by Anne Stevenson