A Joyful Noise Unto The Creator

I'm going to be making some new music.



I'm pleased at the prospect. I don't know what its going to sound like. My co-conspirator and I have been, rather sweetly, sending each other mix-CDs of the sort of music that we would like to make. The brief was "slow and miserable" and we failed to meet the brief: quite a lot of the music was fast and some of it happy sounding, but there was enough commonality for me to believe there was reason to do it.

I'm not sure what that reason is.

We live in different countries. We're both busy. I don't relish the idea of performing live, though I can if called upon to do it. I don't view any music I want to make as performative - I don't need to be adored by a crowd, or hated by a crowd, or sell t-shirts with my face on them from a trestle table at the side of the stage. I'm not sure my face is performative.

I just want to make a noise. And I want to imprint that noise with some part of me. I don't know why. I've been writing songs on and off, mostly off, since I was 15. That's over thirty years. I've written hundreds of songs and some of them, a few, are quite good. I write a mean lyric, some very mean, and I can sing a bit too. I've come to terms with my singing voice.  Its not what I hear in my head. There's a lot of nose in it, a weak weflexive "R". It's rather lazy, falling behind the beat; its flabby and indefinite and I have to really concentrate for there to be any diction at all. But its alright. Its better than most. Its better than yours.

And I want to make a noise. A clever noise. Scribbled with my words. And it probably won't be slow and miserable. But it might be beautiful. 

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