Something’s Changing

Verse: Am C Em
Chorus: G D C G

I walk the covered walkways in my mind
Everything I see reminds me of the time
We were never going anywhere real fast
Held down by the memories of our pasts

But something’s changing, I know it is
We waited all our days for this

Dancing on street corners through the night
Holding on tightly ’til morning light
We were never going anywhere fast
Counting down the seconds ’til the last

But something’s changing, I know it is
We waited all our lives for this

Train pulls slowly out of town
Missing you now you’re not around
We were never going anywhere fast
This lifetime slipping through my grasp

But something’s changing, I know it is
We waited all our lives for this

Walking the old streets again
Turning a corner and then
We were never going anywhere real fast
Held down by the memories of my past

But something’s changing, I know it is
We waited all our days for this
Something’s changing, I know it is
We waited all our lives for this

Sunset Over Freshwater West

The sand dunes of Freshwater West in Pembrokeshire are so extensive they’ve built a road through them. This was a little mind-blowing.

This is a short video of the road and the setting sun as we drove back out from the coast. The backing track is an early version of ‘Something’s Changing’:

#visitwales #pembrokeshire #ponyfolk

Disposable Drawings

Early in my Journey, when I started learning to draw, I reached a place where I had created a ritual around drawing. Each sketch was unique and supposed to be an improvement on the last, like the beginner runner who expects to get faster and becomes despondent when a plateau is reached or gets slower. I had reached a place in drawing where the ‘should’ had become so great that it precluded me from picking up the pencils, and when I did pick them up and draw the self-pressure was intense. I stopped drawing around that time.

Recently I had an urge to draw trees, but not from life as all my previous work had been. I wanted to draw from imagination. So I looked up some tips on drawing trees and started drawing trees.

There’s a line in the Patrick Costello banjo tutorial book, The How and The Tao of Old Time Banjo, that sticks with me as it changed the way that I look at the arts now. I’ve always been an apologist for my lack of art and musical ability. It’s been real easy for me to just pass it off as not having received the gift of drawing and the gift of music. I wasted a lot of years in that belief until I discovered that both art and music can be taught. I should have realised sooner when I took up running and found that I had to learn how to do it. At school I bunked off cross-country but in my early 30’s, following the Couch To 5k program of its time, I went from fat and unfit to running a marathon in a short few years. The education system hadn’t taught me how to run, is it any surprise that it didn’t teach children to draw and to play and understand music?

Patrick’s advice was there right after the first few songs:

“Play this one a couple of hundred times and when you’re ready…”

‘Play this one a couple of hundred times’, man that floored me the first time I read it. I was so used to skipping on to the next thing without really grasping or practicing the previous thing. Play a song once, move on. Draw a sketch of something once and then move on. Here was the key to improvisation, practice!

So I decided to apply this advice to drawing and drew some more trees and then moved on to hares and rabbits.

All of the time using pencils I’d appropriated from hotels and drawing in my ‘music’ book, which I use for writing songs and writing out folk tunes in my own notation for banjo.

Next I treated myself to a sketch book and a set of pencils and that’s where things started to go downhill again. I had created a new ritual, the special book and the special pencils. Now each drawing had to be special and they just weren’t. They seemed to be getting worse.

So, to the moral of the story, i decided to make my art disposable. It’s not special, so don’t treat it like it’s special. And once I’ve sketched a couple of hundred rabbits and hares and trees, well, I might just be getting warmed up.

This one’s on a piece of paper out of the printer, I was going to wrap a book in it to post it, just to prove how disposable art is.

Maybe tomorrow.

For now it’s back to the banjo…

 

Chamberlain Road – Stoke-on-Trent

An updated version of my music video ‘Chamberlain Road’, with some video scenes from around Stoke-on-Trent:

 

Chamberlain Road

D                                             A
The incinerator’s burning late tonight
Hanging a cloud over all that I’ve known
The voices are calling out united
As they’re singing they’re victory home
D     C      Em
And I’m running down Chamberlain Road
D   C                Em
I’m running down Chamberlain Road

Walk with the old man to the Commercial
Sunday afternoon and a drink with the boys
They all wonder now if it was worth it
All those years of blood, sweat and toil
And I’m running down Chamberlain Road
I’m running down Chamberlain Road

We stood and watched in mourning
As they tore the old stadium down
No more Saturdays in the Victoria
When you’re queuing for the bus out of town
And I’m running down Chamberlain Road
I’m running down Chamberlain Road

The doors of the the Spode are all boarded
The factory’s a museum of what it used to be
They took all our coal and they burnt it
What did they leave for you and me?
And I’m running down Chamberlain Road
I’m running, I’m running down Chamberlain Road