Rock & Roll
I got despondent with music last week – keeping a band going gets harder as you get older. I’m over it now – I realise it’s entirely up to me and it’s just a case of sticking at it. I’m a songwriter but I never deliberately write songs – they just come along when they’re ready – there’s no pressure to keep making records for a livelihood which is a great blessing. I’ve got a couple of gigs coming up which I’m looking forward to – Gaz is on bass again and Eamonn is playing drums so we’re two-thirds NOTSENSIBLES. I’m working on the plot for a new John Lee Hartley video which will be fun and hopefully take my film making up a notch.
My latest oeuvre is an observation of the over medicalisation of the human condition both by the profession and the public. One Sunday afternoon after some gentlemanly requisites, Bish and I recorded a very rough version in about an hour. We did bass and drums in a single take, then I did guitar and vocals in a single take – the recording is so viscerally vernacular that it’s unshareable but I enjoyed doing it – I tackled the three common medical acronyms that didn’t exist when I started medical school. The song makes the point that humanity is a spectrum and it’s not always helpful to medicalise certain states of being that lie on that spectrum. The trouble is that the expression ‘on the spectrum’ is now universally applied to autism, so the song would be unintentionally offensive so I can’t use it.
I have a notion to start a club. It’s a club with lots of things going on and everyone takes turns at what they like and do best. It begins on a hillside where we grow our own food. We cook it together and have a laugh. Down in the town we have a little spot which is a cafe and a music venue. We make pure raw visceral music – it has an edge – at times it’s smoulderingly outrageous but never banal. We dress up and dance and make music videos and play records. We don’t bother with the music industry as such – we have our own record label. We have an annual Sagefest, and occasionally we take our show on the road. Being on the hillside helps us out if we’re head-fucked and we look out for each other, so no-one is bored or lonely. We do our research and look at the bigger picture and try and avoid stuff that fucks the world and the animals living in it. We accept that there is twatness everywhere and within everyone so we weave and wind along the upward facing common ground, accepting people for what they are. Occasionally dicktards viewing from the outside think that we’re a soft touch – watch out, we come from battle-hardened stock. By all means stick your head in the pet tiger’s mouth – just don’t squeeze its balls at the same time.
My club has actually been going for quite some time with a membership of just me and the trees – the trouble is I’m just too uncompromising – I have no tolerance for rude ****s or fuckers who can’t be arsed to turn up on time, so my club membership hasn’t exactly thrived. I’m realising that I’m too rigid for my own good (and probably the rudest ***t of them all) – yin and yang and all that shit, so there are signs of new members on the horizon. I’ve already had a few Sagefests where I’ve camped on the ranch on my own and watched the full moon rise. We did actually have the first mini Sagefest this summer but I didn’t tell anyone it was a Sagefest – a few of us just had a bit of food and wandered round the field in glorious sunshine and I got the tractor out. We lit the stove as it began to go dark. It was perfect.