Sleep In The Bath

Which is what I did last night.

Went to my friend Tanya's birthday party in Dalston. As I have nowhere to live at the moment, I managed to blag the bath tub. It was surprisingly comfy, though not very becoming of a twenty five year old masters graduate. According to one of my old tutors I am an 'intellectual'...if only they could see me now (cue self-depreciating laughter).

So things at the moment are all a bit up in the air, but I'm really looking forward to having a place to call 'home' once more soon. It could be a lot worse, and I should be thankful for the grace that I have received, and to myself for some of the fortitude that I seem to be showing at the moment. Three years ago, I was in a simliar situation and mentally I cracked. I suffered from terrible anxiety attacks and would be nearly catatonic. I would barely be able to speak and would find myself outside buildings when everyone else had walked in twenty minutes earlier. They probably thought that I was on the phone, whereas in truth I was having a breakdown and really had no idea - during an attack- of who, where or what I was.

I'm thankful that none of this has cropped up again.

Today, I am tired but quite upbeat. A bit scared and quite lonely though. Such is life, I could do with some companionship right now, I miss having people around me and pray that new people will flood into my life. I've been wreckless with friendships in the past, but I've also been failed by others. It is difficult to maintain momentum when you lack permenance of any kind in your life.

The one thing that I do have permenance with is my love of music. Its great therapy. Both listening to and making it. It is a wonderful release, and I believe makes me very strong. I also believe that its - rock - application is as a weapon. An entertainment weapon. Its showbiz and high art rolled into one.

At the moment, I'm on ice with it a bit because I don't have any guitars with me. I'm sorely missing them. I can't write, can't play and can't record. Its a temporary arrangement, but naturally, I find it a (if not THE) defining aspect to my personality. So, being without it is not fun.

Still though, I am fighting at the moment. I will be ready when things are back on track. The new opera is a really ambitious project, but I'm confident that I've got the ability and knowledge to see it through. I learnt a lot from recording Attack Of The Chevron Flasher. The one question that I'm trying to answer at the moment is whether or not to wait until I have my new digital 24 track studio, which I'll buy when the finances are in place. It would be nice to have everything standardised, but if it has to be recorded -as DEMOS- in part on my analogue rig, then analogue it will be.

Hope that you're feeling strong, safe and secure.

Tom.

Rock N Roll Refugee

I'm currently living out of a suitcase in Highgate.

Had one helluva busy week. Lots of stress, but I'm feeling grounded now, with some good friends. Managed to sleep well over the last few nights. Its great to have that old house behind me. It really seemed to be a house of doom.

Am moving into the place, in sunny Dalston no-less, on August 4th. I'm really looking forward to getting my studio set back up there -and I'm having my PC upgraded at the moment - so I should be able to do more things with my music.

I've enjoyed a wonderful creative burst in the last week, and have made real headway into the new opera. Its a joy to write about light.

But expect surprises. This is not going to be purely metaphorical. There is going to be real grit in it. What is particularly constructive for me, is that I am working toward a simple and elegant concept. Things fall into place. I do not feel as though I will need to explain much about it. Also, don't expect to hear it before the end of the year. That won't happen. Although, I'll start recording songs for it in August, the completed opera won't be finished for quite a while.

In the meantime, the Chevron Action Flasher will do the rounds, and I'm looking forward to unleashing him upon the world in August through the IAC. I've already been running a radio station there -Radio Flasher - and this is going to become more dedicated to my stuff once I've stumped up the reasonable amount of money to upgrade my account.

So, I'm busy, happy, stressed, crazy, creative and various other things at the moment. I'm not in love. Which is a major bonus, as frankly I don't want the distraction at the moment (though ofcourse, I would like the sex.)

I'm hoping that The Change (which I'm going to suggest renaming) will get back to rehearsals in mid-August.

Peace and Love,

Tom.

Magnum Opus

If you read my last blog entry, then you would have seen my new set of lyrics, 'Hot Light' and that I mentioned ' The Light Gate' which was a poem I wrote a few months back. I'm going to turn it into a full length opera. Its a very simple story. Its about a world where all the light has been taken prisoner, and its held in a set of glass gates called, The Light Gate.

I have sketched out a track listing. And written the lyrics to half a dozen songs (I did this yesterday). I have a hard narrative laid down. It seems very tidy. The main character is called Edison. (aka Edward Son, aka The Navigator). He has to find the gates and smash them to set the light free. One particular set of lyrics look really good, 'I Caught Your Catch'...plenty of bite in them. Razor fucking sharp.

The only problem is that I won't have any guitars around me for about ten days because I'm homeless from Wednesday and staying with friends until I can move into my new flat. Bollocks! Because I'm on fire creatively speaking at the moment.

So, here is the poem The Light Gate for you to see once more. Expect tales of darkness and light, fear and loathing, hope and love, and a Christian priest called Dave who holds raves for followers at a debauched fountain of electronic light. It is going to be trippy ride. But I guarantee you this...it is going to rock like the bollocks! Understand?!! Good.

Tom.

The Light Gate

On the counter-point of darkness
Stand my glass gates
On foundations of light,

That guide with a brilliant beam
Holds the blinded Navigator
Still searching for his sight,

And this magic light show
Has now begun
Like a razor sharp laser
Brighter than the sun.

The gate towers
Are light shafts
They illuminate and burn
Like a beacon to the lost
Make the clock mechanism reverse,
Re-start and turn,

As the stars fall
And the angels yearn
As our hearts fold
With love and pain undiscerned,

Until the gates crash open
As the word is spoken
We'll find answers,
Defrost the future,
Leave the past frozen.

These gates of glass will fall,
and the light will open.

Hot Light

Wrote these lyrics on the 214 bus from Kentish Town to Liverpool Street a couple of days ago. You might be wondering why I'm always banging on about gates made of light, the need for light, etc, etc, etc. Well, in this case, this is a companion piece for some else that I wrote which was a poem called The Light Gate. I came up with that - in a dream, I think - as a vision, I have quite a vivid visual imagination and I find it easy to generate abstract images in my mind's eye that explore my emotional health.

So, about five years ago, I published a collection of short form literature on the web called 'Rolling The Dice', and one of the short stories was about a dream/memory/vision that I had of being a giant transparent sphere packed with cogs and machinary rolling across a desert landscape and colliding with other spheres (people).

Recently, I saw a light gate in my head, and then we had the light fountain, and now I'm trying to find away to express the metaphor. The Light Gate is on a horizon. And its a very dark world. Because the light is imprisoned within the glass gates. And a traveller, seeker, pilgrim, whatever you would like to call him is following the beacon of the hot light (a laser beam, I guess) that shines out from the Light Gate (I've always imagined him on a 16th century frigate), and he uses it as a navigational tool. And once he finally finds the gate, he has to set the light free and end the darkness.

Hence, once the gates of glass are shattered the light will open.

I am fine today. A bit hungover. Looking forward to moving into my new house at some point and getting my studio back together.

Tom.


The Hot Light

In the frozen land,
Of hearts entrenched,
Where the cold silence,
Is self-defence,

On a dark horizon
Where all hope is spent
And the souls have buckled,
Into wreckage, twisted and bent.

Youll see him reaching
Up above for the beacon
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate),
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate).

In the silent rooms
Of a darkened mind
The light calls
Out to the blind

As troubles and fears
In a psyche, choke and bind
And cogs of intolerance
And ignorance grind.

Youll see him reaching
Up above for the beacon
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate),
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate).

Against the walls,
Of hate, bitterness and pain,
On the ground of a desert
Praying for rain,

In the head of faces
Raging against the grain
Amongst the sordid dreams
and bed-sheet stains,

Youll see him reaching
Up above for the beacon
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate)
Of the hot light
(beams from the Light Gate).

Sun

Its fucking hot here.

I've find a new house. But will miss my lovely Camden pad next to Hampstead Heath. Will save some money though, and be close to Shoreditch.

Danny the Drummer called me last night, we're putting rehearsals back a week because I'm moving in that weekend. We talked about the band, he's suggested a friend of his who's something of a bass maestro. It feels really good to have Danny sounding so motivated and looking at the big picture. It was a revelation playing with him again. I'd forgotten how much he makes other people and musicians pale in comparison.

I am up more in spirits now. Very tired. Still quite stressed. But negotiating my way out of things. There are people that I miss. There are people who chill my spine.

Listened to the Flasher mini-opera demos on my mp3 player this morning. Sounds good. I wonder who wrote, performed and recorded it?

Once I'm moved in (on August 4th). I will sort out the release of the mini opera, solid dates for The Change to play and start thinking about light gates and other things.

Tom.

Light Fountain

In the surreal landscape of the light gate -or should that be dreamscape - there's probably scope for a water feature.

How about this? If you're going to have gates of glass built on shafts of light - which I figure is my metaphor for the imprisonment of light/good/love and half a dozen positive things - then what about a fountain made of light. It would surely be a spectacular thing. Once you've opened the light gate, and the light opens up, it could be chanelled into something beautiful. A crystal fountain that spurts out light.

Hang on. I could be onto a genial metaphorical starting point for something rather poetically brilliant, which is simultaneously daft enough - for you cynics out there - to allow myself to keep the uncertain balance of 'have I hit a nail on the head, or am I just exceptionally deluded'.
Joking aside - water features??? to BBC-fucking-2 for me. Maybe I can slot these metaphors in together and come up with something of a new creative project. Or maybe I should dust off the lyrics to 'The Reverend Dave and the Unholy Rave' off, surely the greatest rock musical spectacular never to be completed since Spinal Tap's 'Lusty Jack'. Maybe Dave needs a water feature at his vicarage. I'd forgotten about Rev. Dave until I told a graceful moving girl about it at a rave on New Year's Eve in Stonebridge Park...can't remember quite how she moved so gracefully...she must have been taking superb drugs.

What an extraodinarily self-abusive blog that was that I wrote yesterday. Did I write that? And 'no'! I wasn't drunk when I wrote it. But I did feel like I was crashing, and to be honest, I'm not exactly grinning like a Cheshire Cat today either.

Still though...didn't I ask for some grace yesterday? Did I get any?

Yes, actually. I made a phonecall and had a chat with Ems and Stu. Ems is an old friend of mine from Uni, and Stuart is her fella. They seem to have a lot of faith in me, I won't go into the details about what they do with their lives, but . Things felt a lot brighter afterward. Despite that I'm still convinced that I'm a spiritually ungrateful bastard and a shocking underacheiver.
Anyway, after being told -without asking -that I am apparently destined for great things...I went home. Watched Empire of the Sun and cried my eyes out as young Jim Graham (aka Christian Bale aged 12) sees the atom bomb and finally gets reunited with his parents after the war. The screenplay was written by Tom Stoppard, who apparently, I look like without a beard and maybe one day will be if not as talented or famous, almost certainly richer.
Then I watched Julian Temple's Glastonbury movie, and started to choke again, when they put up those fucking fences and evil bastard looking security guards - I once was one of them - acted like the Stasi meets the S.A. In the words of a hippy at the Isle of Wight Festival 1970...with the fences up, it resembled 'a psychedelic concentration camp'.

So, there you have it. That's where I'm at. I'm struggling to find somewhere to live, and money to pay for it. I seem to be lacking clarity on lots of small issues, that are like pin pricks in my neck at the moment.

Right now, I am in two minds as how to best cope with it. One mind thinks find distractions, and the other, along the same lines, thinks drink a lot. Pretty fucking ineffective.
I seem to be holding a lot of people in contempt today.

I went to the Roundhouse yesterday, drank a pint, listened to Saucerful of Secrets and mourned Syd. What a star he was...in the true cosmic sense, and not some L.A/Hollywood bullshit.

I'm off now to be listless for a while, to try and forget some problems, and ignore my own mediocrity until someone tries to engage me in a discussion.

Tom.

Crash

Today is a crash day.

Crashed. Crushed. Fallen into a black vault in the earth, in the ruins of a building. Something no longer there anymore.

I don't want to be weak. I don't want brave. Don't want to be tough. Don't want to be confused. Don't want to be famous. Don't want to be inspired. Don't want to be driven. Don't want to be controlled. Don't want to get laid. Don't want to be sober. Don't want to be drunk. Don't want to be empowered. Don't want to be responsible. Don't want to be alone. Don't want to be surrounded. Don't want to think. Don't want to love. Don't want to be controlled, patrolled, defended, attacked, sharp, blunt, centered...myself.

I am going to write something to you. You know who you are! But for the benefit of anyone else unfortunate - or maybe foolish - enough to read this blog today, I will elaborate. You could be a friend, a spurned lover, a lost friend, someone from my future, an emotional ghost, myself twenty years ago - will still have a pact don't we? That we'd turn the tables, do something good in the world and let the bastards choke on it -, you could be my friend John and if so, then maybe you can explain why you brought the curtain down and jumped from the ledge.
Today my arms are outstretched and I pray for grace. I hope that something will fall from above and set me free, and that for once I will transcend and not merely escape.

Back to you. If I have ever betrayed you. Then I hope you know it. I probably have. I have certainly broken promises to you. No excuses on that front. I don't expect you to forgive me. I am truly unworthy of any good fortune that has ever come my way. Like the fuck-wit I am, I have often confused my cowardice with frailty. I have given myself too many breaks. There is a much bigger game than you'd ever believe out there, and I am too entwined with wreckage to let myself climb out of it. If you have ever loved me, and I haven't returned this...then I am sorry. I know what it is like to be in your shoes. How terrible to be in possession of so much positivity and have no way of realising it except in nightmares and Kleenex. I seem to be completely lost when it comes to maintaining relationships, I must be a pretty fucking poisonous person to cause the havoc that I have in the past, I should have learnt sooner that invitations come with an obligatory door slam in your face.

On the subject of faces. Let me clarify something for you. I am a tremendous actor. I can conjure up the most sophisticated veneer and alter ego to fool you, sometimes I even fool myself. Pretty fucking cunning isn't it?! Pretty fucking evil too. My duplicity is total. I might come over as an emotional lightweight, a happy, having a crazy fucking party life occassionally the five foot platform boots of a jester...but I'm actually deadly serious. This self-destructive society that we've engineered around us is looking pretty shakey...better not to talk about that, eh?! It'd put you off your Subway. Have another can of lager. Smoke a Lucky Strike...go on, they've got charcoal fucking filters and come in a really cool box.

Sorry? Not enough fun? Well maybe you'll like the other me then. Actually, I've been there before with you. You did a runner didn't you, because you couldn't handle that much fun. Maybe, it was because you were too strong, or maybe too weak...or maybe both, because if you're weak then you've got to be pretty fucking hardcore to be strong, haven't you!

I will take a deep breath. The sun rises after every bomb. I have been spoilt with fortune. I really am not worthy. There is a light gate somewhere, it draws in blinded navigators across the ocean of the stars, and when the visible glass structure is found it will shatter and the light will open.

Tom.

This is no crisis.

Rehearsal Photos

Danny the drummer.



Llee the bassist...looking satanic.



Two insane rockers.


Yours truly.

The Change rehearsals: Day 1

Back in a rather grey Rugby, we found a fairly extinct village hall where we spent yesterday running through some songs. It went well. Llee did a good job of covering for us on bass, Danny was as ever his brilliant hilarious self, and I had a major annoyance with my guitar sound for most of the session. Nonetheless, we made good progress and hope to get more done today.

We managed a scratch rehearsal of our mini-opera 'Attack Of The Chevron Action Flasher', and got fairly tidy versions of Did You See Where My Money Went?, The Brief and Popular together. We probably need to add a keyboard player too. Its a big sound that we're working toward...and three people may not be enough.

Photos to follow shortly.

Its amazing. I'm the only one out of the three of us who hasn't had ringing in his ears.

Virgin Trains

The Virgin Train to Rugby rolled in at 23:00, and so I'm now back in the Midlands. Writing this before I go to bed, ready for tomorrow's first day of rehearsals.

I have a few things on my mind. Not about music, not apprehension over rehearsals. Just lots of distractions, some of them from the present and mundane, others from the past and people. I deleted a whole load of old messages from my mobile phone today. I didn't mean to hang onto them, but always seemed to busy to scroll that far back. Reading a few of them gave me a twinge of regret over something that I've lost.

I'm tired at the moment. I need sleep. Tomorrow will be a new day, and full of light...and I will have the chance to feel superhuman once more.

Goodnight,

Tom.

P.S. Tried to find a photo to put up here, but couldn't...expect plenty tomorrow.

The Brief

I've posted one of the demos that I recorded for The Change last weekend on myspace. Its a song that I wrote four years ago, and has featured in most of my sets since then. Its about the moment when I was given my brief as a writer. When I signed a contract with Busker John/Beer Bottle Joe/or whatever else you want to call him.

Its not a bad attempt at recording it. Rushed somewhat for the sake of getting it done in time to send it off to the others, but The Brief should be a really strong song for us...it comes from the best kind of place for a rock songwriter. Its a very sincere song about a moment which seemed decisive for me at the time. It must still be now, because its shaped my life into the unshapeable existence that I'm in now.

We are rehearsing this weekend. Two full days of it. I will be going to work on Monday with bandages on my hands. I am very excited by what we are looking to do. I would like to bring a VJ into the mix as well for the shows, get someone who is really innovative and aspires to align rock music with the visual arts.

I also feel some trepidation. Not about the group and not about what we'll sound like. I'm pretty confident on that front. I think that I'm feeling something deeper than that at the moment. I miss people who are dead or estranged, I'm also confused about my station in the world. I seem to have a lot of people telling me that I'm destined for great things and it isn't in the brown nosing sense, but I'm suspicious as to the accuracy of their assumptions. There is something else at work here. Other people tell me that I'm talented. This is not the case...but I am very determined, and anything that might be misconstrued as talent is in actual fact a brief flash of inspiration gifted to me from above by God's grace. Any other writer worth their wait in salt would agree with me on this.

I think that its more about being a misfit. If you're a misfit, then you don't fucking fit! And so you end up in strange situations in life. What would they say other than 'you're going to be a big success buddy boy', what would the alternative be, how about 'you're going to be ranting outside the Oxfam shop door way, preaching about the end being nigh with a bald head and shit on your clothes!'

Doesn't sound like such a nice thing to say to someone who you've met and seems to be eccentric, does it?!!

Its going to be a really loud weekend.

Tom.

More Who: Birdman!

'The Birdman' fucking A!

The Who: Beaulieu

James arrives in the mighty 1ooo cc chariot o' rock. And the 3 hour drive is ready to begin from Islington to the land of the bumpkins.

Errrr, hang on...have we taken a wrong turn...doesn't look very rock n roll Acton to me...

Ah, but keep faith...

Then this High School band turned up and played a few of their wistful tunes about love, life and jam making.

Casbah Club were as ever right on the money! Good in Beaulieu, a shorter set than in Hyde Park...where frankly they kicked arse and were pretty damn convincing. Woke up this morning with Casbah Club songs in my head...never thought that would happen. Seriously.

And then these fellas called The Who turned up...at right royally kicked ass for the second night in a row. Hyde Park had been the most fantastic gig, and The Who did a great job with a big crowd, but this was a very different kind of venue.

But they were loud and energetic. Pino's bass seems to be a lot louder than in 2004, and it really makes a difference. Zak is constantly surprising me when I hear him.

As for the other two fellas. Man, that Roger Daltrey he's got more power in his voice than the Hoover Dam. He's sounding great. Better than in 2000 and and 2004. In fact, he is on a different planet from 2000. Its strange how if you saw the band around then - particularly on the Royal Albert Hall DVD - The Ox is the complete star of it. No-one comes close.

But it seems that this is shaping up to be Roger's tour. Pete is sounding great too, but he didn't have some of the dodgy patches that Roger did five years ago. Christ, the man has just renewed my faith in the Who by writing the Mike Post Theme. Which frankly, at the moment, is the best fucking track on stage. If only it'd be a single. But then again, I don't think that Baba O'Reilly was either.

Fantastic stuff.

Tom.

That's Da Blues...B.L.U.S.E!

Son House...what a legend. And when the man says that blues is spelt B.L.U.S.E, you're not going to argue. Went to see Festival about the Newport Folk Festivals with Sarah Beth at the NFT on Thursday, she's working for the director in New York. I'd seen the DVD, but as with all films, you should see it in a theatre. Its a great film. And as you can guess, Son House was the highlight for me. The man is from another world.

Don't want to get sunburnt today (Saturday), going to see The Who in Hyde Park tomorrow, and then on Monday too. Should be good. Have been doing my bit for Anglo-American relations over the last week, and having a blast.

Wanted to post a new song up here today, but forget to bring it with me on my MP3 player. I am fuzzy headed this morning. Could probably do with a confidence injection at the moment. Am a bit suspicious of people. I find intoxication and sobriety equally disagreable at the moment.

Emotionally a bit uncomfortable today, don't know why...I feel like something from the past is trying to catch up with me, it would be comforting to believe that I would be carried forward on the crest of this wave, but I fear that I will be dragged under instead.
There are times when minor cracks in my sense of self, turn into canyons...and I feel quite helpless. Maybe things will firm up a bit more once I have moved house. I'd like to write the truth here. Like I do in my journal at home, but I lack the courage. You almost certainly, lack the interest.

Will no doubt brighten up over the next few days with the shows ahead. I have rehearsals for The Change all next weekend lined up. Hopefully I will be able to channel something through that.Tom.