One of the main points of sadness in my life is that I lack any proper musical ability. This makes me sorrowful because there is nonetheless a deep sense in which I am a musician: I carry songs around within me in my head wherever I go. These 'songs' are original compositions, it's just that I lack the ability to play a musical instrument or sing sufficiently well to enable most of these tunes to have an existence in the real world, outside of my head. I also never learnt to read music, and the music lessons I had at school, based as they were on classical music and a pedagogy that erred on the side of the highly traditional, left me feeling that music wasn't for me, that I was musically thick. I did learn to play the bass guitar as a teenager, and to strum a few chords on the guitar too, and actually ended up writing probably about twenty songs for a punk band I was in at the time, which you can listen to here. I also wrote a few solo songs and did a few covers under the name Yabyelle, which you can check out here. (Don't ask where the name came from; it is a secret I can never reveal.) But still: I have so much more music in me than is conveyed there, but which I am unable to release. Partly this is because I can't sing very well. Anyway, I wrote a song earlier this week. I started with the lyrics, and then decided to put them to a tune. After having done this, I decided to record myself performing the song. The inspiration I had in mind was Ewan MacColl, who was famous for his acapella recordings of old folk songs. Here is my effort:
LOVE YOU MORE
So the sky is enshrouded with ripples of doubt
and this sink has a blockage I cannot get out
and there’s rain in the day yet in evenings there’s drought
I will only love you more.
So the words they come easy but suddenly stop
and the ceiling is creaking and threatens to drop
and that wardrobe of costumes is merely a prop
I will only love you more
Through the pain and the strain
and the ache of the heart
Through the thoughts that get caught
as our fort falls apart
Through the churning that yearns
for the finish to start
I will only love you more
So the tea on the table’s abandoned and cold
and there’s cat hair and rats where there used to be gold
and the devil once jailed has now been paroled
I will only love you more
So the shadows that creep, they seep in through the cracks
and the money we earned’s now demanded for tax
I just know that this snowstorm will not hold us back
I will only love you more
Through the heat and the sleet
and beat of the drums
Though the ending seems pending
I’m mending the slums
and I’ll go with the flow
for I know you’re the one
and I’ll only love you more
Yes I’ll only love you more