I usually write a piece to mark the turning over of a new year, containing some lessons learned and goals for the future. It’s normally wordy and longwinded but this year’s lesson & goal for the future is one of few words, even less words, sometimes none.

No explanations needed.

Actions speak louder. The truth is self-evident. I don’t need to prove a thing to anyone but myself and I can do that silently.

So have a silent night and a gloriously speechless new year from me folks…

Jx

My first EP from 2006! You’ll probably recognise the title track but that’s me playing the guitar part I wrote on my trusty Alvarez MD60, brand spanking new then, I still use it today… The Tangled Tree EP

Singing & songwriting are hopelessly naively cynical in that way little me was. Lots of things I wouldn’t do today but also plenty I would. I was 24 which is old enough to be better than that but I always was inclined to take my time, no protégé am I, more tortoise than hare.

I flirt with the folk genre in the use of imagery but it’s not trad by any means, I was going be hard to pigeonhole, tough to pin down.

Confrontationally demure, Earnestly honestly cynical, Acerbically articulate, succinct…

And utterly unprepared for an industry of arseholes

By 2018 I had honed it all a bit & was asked to write songs for playwright Zoe Cooper’s adaptation of ‘The Snow Queen’ for the National Theatre ‘Let’s Play key stage 2 education project My second writing commission for The National The Snow Queen

Songs written, composed & arranged by me. The superb guitaring is the wonderful folk king legend David Delarre. The drumming is my fave Dave Hamblett & bass by Sonny Johns. Recorded by engineer Sonny in The National’s recording studio in one afternoon. Writing songs for children aged 7-11 to sing is a very different discipline to writing for myself. They need to be pitched higher, not contain too much melodic or lyrical complexity but they simply MUST contain the right emotional impact, they can handle & deserve depth.

I got to watch a performance in Liverpool in Jan 2020 (These are not privileged kids, these plays are made for state schools) It was amazing & I can’t describe the feeling of hearing their tiny voices sing my songs so well & with such heart. One of my favourite projects of my career.

A couple of ‘lost songs’ written in 2007/8 & demo recorded in 2009 One of them isn’t even finished, often the way, some of them get finished, some take years. I’m gradually getting better at writing… But I never got round to using either of them.

What I hear now is that my guitaring really wasn’t bad, wish someone had told me that, anyone, at the time. But alas my insecurity about guitar playing is the perfect opportunity for some bloke to grab my work & pass it off as his own isn’t it. Lost songs & lessons learned.

Lastly my weird little 2PrivateMatters EP ‘Doubts Run Out’ with Alec Bowman_Clarke Recorded at home during the long days of lockdown, these are song demos I made that Alec has given his industrial noise treatment in Ableton… Every noise made out of my original song demos Each songs settles a little score & lays to rest some past wrangling

“When all the weapons are spent out, when all your doubts are run out / You sleep so soundly in your bed / When all the words of someone else aren’t in your head”

“I give you nothing like the nothing you gave me / That’s how you win / That’s how you won / No, not to hurt you / But to stop you hurting me / That’s how it ends Slate and sleek, grey Wait and see Wait / Weigh down with stone.”

A genuine apology is a respectful and restorative thing. It will set you free, but you have to mean it.

I have only ever refused to accept one apology in my life 

That was because it was half-hearted, vague and insincere. It did not address any of the hurt or unhappiness caused. 

It wasn’t genuine, it was merely a small step up from the standard “oh come on, don’t be like that” more usually used to dismiss my feelings & get things quickly back to the status quo.  

Beware of those, they are as amorphous and intangible as smoke.

So this one refusal was somewhat of a turning point for me and my reply to it was simply: “for what? There is SO much”

This song is about that, a refusal to accept a hollow, meaningless apology that will not amount to any change…

Host 

Sorry, is the key to a door 

That you will come through 

And hurt me some more 

All my good deeds are dust on your desk 

Shiny stone medals 

To hang in your chest 

So maybe if I meant a thing at all 

You’d let me know 

But you didn’t know me 

I’m just a host 

A host for your dreams 

All that you hate 

All that you wish for 

All that you ain’t 

Sorry, is the key to a door

That you would come through 

And hurt me some more

There comes a point when reconciliation is no longer an option, talking is just wasted air, understanding isn’t out there. You aren’t cared for, you are merely a survival mechanism for a distant, damaged person, who doesn’t know you, who doesn’t want to know you. They just need you and they hate you because they need you. 

It baffles me with a particular type of awe and envy that there are people out there who do not have any idea what it’s like to deal with people who posses a personality that could be described as narcissistic (I know most intimately & mainly refer to the covert type). Who have never experienced first or second hand the effects of gaslighting, coercive control or manipulation. That for them most people are decent, say what they mean and “falling’s out” are simply that “six of one, half a dozen of the other” small, well-intentioned miscommunications. What glorious rose-tinted bliss is this! They have never known the heart-racing, hot-faced, panic attack chest tightening, reality-bending befuddlement of the person opposite you swearing that night is day as you point vigorously at the sky in desperate incredulity. When you later remind them that last time you talked they swore night was day, they say they didn’t say that and so you splutter, foam at the mouth and descend into a very specific kind of madness. Everyone thinks you’re crazy, maybe you are crazy, you definitely feel a kind of crazy.

I’ve known many, they were there before I was born, they can be your close relatives. Some people’s approval you will never earn no matter how hard you try. YOU simply do not “deserve” it. If they gave it to you they’d lose it for themselves, they are on a perpetual seesaw of competition for ok-ness, you can never balance it out, if you give them things they simply sink to the bottom of a vast positivity vacuum never to be acknowledged or seen again. And they aren’t coming back in the form of reciprocation, oh no no, it ain’t gonna happen, ever. I refer you back to my earlier statement about how… “YOU simply do not “deserve” it”. There are some people in your life you will be afraid of, is the reality I’ve always known. They don’t want you to say you are afraid of them, they become hostile when you do, so you must not say it but you feel it and you know it and you live poised and waiting for the next literal or metaphorical blow.

I feel like I’ve attracted them, amassed them throughout my life, they can tell I’m a suitable target. I have a peculiar type of compliance that doesn’t look like compliance to the casual observer. I know many lovely people too, when people are kind, open and honest my personality is not at risk, we enjoy a clear communication, a safety and an open handed, mutually caring friendship. But my head is marked, those people see me coming, I am easy to guilt, desperate to please and wilfully principled enough to frame as unreasonable. Convinced by my conditioning that somehow it is my job on this earth to make others feel at ease, their feelings are mine to anticipate and sooth.

But not anymore, I’ve been on a four plus year journey to break old habits and learn die hard new ones instead. I cannot be guilted or shamed into compliance. I cannot be told my resistance to mistreatment is anger/unreasonableness or bad behaviour on my part.

No. Is an answer in itself.

You will get out what you put in. If that’s nothing, then it’s nothing. I owe no one proximity. I owe no kindness to those who show me none. Call me “difficult” or “angry” and all you will hear is your projection bouncing back to you from a closed door.

I no longer live in fear of your negative opinion of me.

I know and recognise the signs and the behaviours and I am out of there before you finish your twisty little sentence.

It’s a long road but I dream of life without them, any of them.

If you’ve got no idea what I’m on about, good for you, think yourself lucky and I hope it stays that way for you. But please know that your experience is simply that, YOURS and others may differ wildly.

If you do know what I’m talking about then I’m sorry that you do xx

As mixing begets mastering new things take their shape, their space & in time, their place. 

I’m making new things out of the wreckage, sifting through the rubble, a decade of my wasted work, to find the important particles of enduring gold.

Foraging for the diamonds amid the rust, restoring & forming them into something sparkly & renewed. Retelling the old stories with their whole truth, & nothing but that.

Pushing away the dead wood & now released from the drag of other’s need to be a part of a story that is not their own. Songs that were always built by my head & hands alone, get set right & reconciled. No one else pinning my heart to their sleeve & wearing it with unwarranted pride.

So with all that picked out and put away I will eventually present to you something new. Something truer to my singular vision. Something I can stand by, live with & survive on for many years to come…

I can’t wait to tell you more about it in a less cryptic way 💗!