A few years ago I ran some songwriting weekends at the premises Studio in east London, managed by the wonderful Julia Craik, who died of Covid last year. The whole thing was her brainchild: songwriters would come in on Friday and leave at the end of Monday with a fully recorded and mixed song that they had written over the weekend. They would have a masterclass (Green Gartside twice because he was so good, Piney Gir, Ed Harcourt, Chris Difford), advice from the PRS, and mostly lots of creative stuff from me.
One time, the group looked rather glum on the Friday night. 'We always write miserable songs', they said. 'How can we get out of the rut?'.
I asked them each to notice five beautiful things on their way to the studio the following morning. One by one they appeared and shared their beautiful things. There was such a variation. One chap was besotted by his wife; another person noticed a special tree. One person noticed sounds, another colours.
Sometimes it's good to take a taste of your own medicine. Beautiful things are always there, but we don't always take note of them. We carry pain and ugliness in our heads, often for very good reasons, but there is nothing wrong with the occasional reprogramming of our brains to notice beauty.
On the walk yesterday, it was interesting things that aroused my curiosity, more than beautiful things. But everything I noticed was an inspiration in some way, or a trigger for questions about nature. I took photographs so I wouldn't forget. Another time, I'll write songs. There is always so much to see out there; we walk around with our eyes open, often seeing nothing but the frightening images in our heads. Our brains can celebrate as well as mourn, and it's good to remember this.
No comments:
Post a Comment