Memoir of a Hasn't Been Part 2: I Have A Confession!

I have a confession. I didn't really put the 'Write a plan to write "A Memoir of a Hasn't Been" item' on my to do list. I do plan to do it. But, it just hasn't happened yet!

I got a bit overwhelmed after I wrote my last blog.

It's what often happens when I get all excited about a new idea, commit it to a blog and then share it on social media and 160 people read it, some of whome write encouraging posts back about the idea. In so doing, an obligation is created. I try and avoid obligations.

Anyway, it got me thinking that perhaps, before I tackle the memoir, I need to create a new list. It will be called my "things that I have avoided to do" list. First thing I'll put on that list is Chrissy Amphlett.

She was at Southbank finishing up a photoshoot. I remember she was wearing a striking purple and white striped suit and I was struck by how tiny she was. You know how famous people look familiar but you can't quite place them for a moment. I was about 5 feet away from her before I realised it was CHRISSIE AMPHLETT!

Panic set in immediately. I DID NOT KNOW what to do. Should I get her autograph? Should I cry and stammer out an "I love you, Chrissie"? Should I go and tell her that I sometimes perform her song, "Boys in Town" and offer to sing her a rendition?  Should I genuflect? Should I act cool and greet her like an old friend? What? What? What?

Well, I did the only thing that any panicked fangirl would do, I turned around and walked the other way. Quickly. But, when I turned to check that I was well out of her orbit, there was Chrissie following behind me.

Quick. I dashed up some stairs to safety.

Wait!

What?

Yep.

I did the same thing today. I walked right past American Blues guitar player, Chris Cain, who I saw at the Sydney Blues and Roots Festival yesterday rocking the main stage. He was also small and wearing stripes. This afternoon, he was walking down Market Street West in Richmond, NSW, in the opposite direction to me. I'm sure he would have liked a "nice set, yesterday" as we passed each other. Then, perhaps, we could have stopped to talk and maybe organised a guitar lesson this afternoon. After that, we could have gone to dinner and discussed the memoir I was writing called, "Memoir of a Hasn't Been." He could have had a chapter.

Instead,  like Chrissie, I'll be adding him to my "things that I have avoided to do" list.

Along with: buy a set of windscreen wipers, fill in a lodgement of protest form for a toll road fine that I don't believe I should have to pay, write back to a new friend who sent me a photo 6 weeks ago of me picking guitar on The Canning Stock Route, send back music festival administration information and email some students information about a couple of gigs I have booked for them.

It's actually fortunate I didn't buy a set of windscreen wipers as mine were easily fixed so avoiding that "to do" item saved me a few bucks. The bucks I saved paid for a new usb cable which I lost while I was working through my "things that I have avoided to do" list and the pricey organic vegan food I had for lunch.

Today, rather than fulfil my obligations, I went to the library and finished the first draft to the first act of a musical play I've been avoiding writing for months.

Here's a Canning Stock Route sunset:

'A Memoir of a Hasn't Been.'

I've been thinking about writing a memoir called "A Memoir of a Hasn't Been." The idea is simple. It would be a witty look at my past musical collisions with people who went onto become successful artists while I didn't. Don't worry, I wouldn't allow it to sink into maudlin examinations of "Why me?',  I just think it would be interesting.

So how should I present the memoir? I've entertained the thought of producing it as a podcast. But, I'd have to go and do a course and I don't really have time because I'm so busy working two jobs, talking about being a singer/songwriter, checking facebook, watching catch up TV, playing house, socialising with family, friends and my boyfriend, oh, and practicing guitar and ukulele.

Perhaps I could just get someone to produce it. But, that would cost money and then I would have to write a script. I'm still trying to write a script for another project I'm working on which I've been avoiding for quite some time now.  What if no one from my musical past gives me permission to write about them? Hang on, I have to get permission. Bloody hell!

Ok, so maybe a blog. A 500 word memory uploaded each week for a year.  The "write one blog entry a week" item has appeared on my weekly to do list for months now. There's also the question of how to attract subscribers to follow the weekly blog entries. To be honest,  I'm very uncomfortable asking people to follow me. I'm a bit shy (ok, very), not that interesting and therefore not particularly deserving of attention.
 
Ok, perhaps it would be better as a book. My healthy overblown, imaginative ego thinks it's a great idea and is convinced it will be signed by an urban publishing house endorsed by the left wing intelligentsia of Melbourne. I've already plotted the entire memoir in my head.  I've imagined the accompanying show which will include me sharing the stage with some of the amazing musicians I write about. In my mind, the show is a terrific success and the book becomes a bestseller. The accompanying youtube channel with 52 duets of me and each musician has gone viral and my ego is loving the irony of a success that means it's no longer a "hasn't been".

All of these ideas were thought out while I walked to my day job between the office in North Melbourne and the activities program in Elizabeth Street. I work three days a week to pay rent and bills before I go to my three evenings a week job where I teach music for a few hours. The other four days a week, I imagine what I could do if I didn't have to work three days a week. That leads me to imaginary touring and youtube channels again.

Ok. So what if I actually did it? What if I actually wrote a memoir with accompanying show and youtube channel?  I've read enough time management self help books to know that the best way to fulfil your goals is to make them measurable and achievable and there's a few other things that they have to be which I can't recall right now.  I also know that it's important to make a plan. Create a timeline for the plan.  Write a list of tasks for each section of the timeline to achieve the plan. OK.

Here's the first task which I have added to my weekly "to do" list:

Write a plan to produce "A Memoir of a Hasn't Been" with accompanying show and youtube channel and record the journey on a weekly blog.

Helen 

Here's a song: 
West Brunswick

Here's a picture to look at while you listen to the song:

 

On The Road Again.....

As a song writer mate said to me on the weekend, "Sometimes life gets in the way/" In my case, this has meant packing up a house, a couple gigs falling through and a second job.

I once read that when you finally decide to change tack and walk a path that seems truer to your inclinations, a test appears that beckons distraction and u-turns. I guess, if you believe that stuff, road blocks and detours do seem to appear. But, I reckon that we create them ourselves because most of the time we're just shit scared of what's up ahead. And, the rest of the time, we're sitting on the side of the road having a little rest and a play. Maybe we stop at the local cafe or pub for a drink and we make some new friends who tell us about a job that we should take and then suggest we move in next door and before you know it, time has marched on and the road becomes less travelled.

Last Saturday night, I took a new road to a party at a friend's house. I had to drive out to Woodend and then take back roads through giant forests and rolling hills to end up in a place called Spring Hill. This friend of mine is a song writer of some note. She has a radiant smile and sings of hopefulness and light. I didn't know who would be at the party and almost didn't go because I secretly (not anymore) suffer from social anxiety. So, walking into a room full of strangers by myself is enough to send me diving for a paper bag to stop from hyperventilating. But, being an experienced social-phobe, I also know the antidote is to show up without expectation and have an exit plan if things go awry.

So, I arrived in the dark, parked in the paddock and made my way to the front door. First person I saw was a song writing mate who maybe one of the best folk writers in the country, sitting at the food laden table. Then I shook hands with a fiddle player who suggested we go and play some songs, immediately. I said hello to some well known Malmsbury musos(I know I'm giving hints and no names but I didn't ask them if I could write about them so you'll just have to guess who they are) on the way through to the music room, who was speaking with my mate Luke, who plays on the "West Brunswick" album.  When I learned Luke's partner Cass was there as well, I knew this was going to be a great night. Then I turned around and another lovely song writer appeared and another and another. The whole place was wall to wall song writers and musicians, and I knew most of them.

Well bloody hallelujah I said to myself. Guess that dirty old road has brought me home. The night was spent passing round new songs and old favourites, sharing stories, exchanging ideas, and talking about that silly old road out there and where it might take us next.

My experience of the party confirmed that although "life" can get in the way when we put down the guitar and stop off for a piss that turns into a picnic which turns into a camping holiday which turns into a sort of stop gap life, you can still see the road from your makeshift house. Sometimes, it just takes an invitation to a party to get you on the musical track again.

My only suggestion is that when you leave the party at 2.30 in the morning, you drive like a grandma so that when you hit the kangaroo that hops out in front of you without warning, you only hit it at about 5km's an hour. In which case, no harm will befall either you or the 'roo.

Oh, and here's some fine song writers for you to listen to on the road:

ENDA KENNY:

CHLOE HALL AND SILAS PALMER

MANDY CONNELL

LUKE R DAVIES RECYCLED STRING BAND

MICHELLE CHANDLER AND JO JO SMITH

A March through Moreland.

There's an added poignancy to presenting suburban songs in their suburb of origin. You know that the people sitting in a lounge room in North Coburg or gathered around a breakfast bar in the living room of a West Brunswick house or sitting amongst the books at a Coburg library are going to understand the song about The Road to Sydney or West Brunswick Star more so than other audiences. They're going to understand the images in the song called West Brunswick and know the Number 55 tram ride intimately. They're going to understand exactly what it's like on Moonee Valley race nights and they'll get the eccentricity of trying to navigate a clipper along the Moonee Ponds Creek.

March brought me into the houses of Richard and Rachel in North Coburg, Andrea and Glen in West Brunswick and the Coburg library. Singing about home in the local lounge rooms of these newest "patrons of the arts" as Rachel observed, accompanied by the sweetest harmonies from my best mate Emily Hayes, and my gorgeous daughter, Ella Sidal, was just a bit special. The girls surprised and delighted everyone, including me, with their harmonic entries while they remain seated amongst the audience. Their inspired idea of singing from their seats created a warm, we're-all-in-this-together, atmosphere. 

During the performances, I quipped that I looked forward to seeing some of the members of the audience down the street at the shops. Last week, I ran into someone from the Coburg library gig in the local supermarket and laughed at the coincidence. It's nice to be meeting new neighbours. I have promised a Big West Brunswick Neighbourhood Gig at the end of this concert series so that everyone can meet everyone and we can all singalong together.

March also brought my marching orders. I got the "you have 60 days to vacate" notice in the mail. For now, I give up. I'm tired of been moved on every time a landlord sells or their circumstances change. So, I'm taking a rest from the rental market and have chosen to house sit for a while and open myself to the generosity of friends and strangers who need their homes looked after and sung to while they're away.  

Ironically, I will be technically homeless as I sing about home. Perversely, I kinda like that idea. There is a poeticism to it that may bring new songs and ideas for the next album. 

I'm looking forward to April. It brings with it more house concerts in Moreland, including the extra special one in the West Brunswick street where it was recorded, designed and written and that I lived happily with my extraordinary neighbours for 6 years. My mates Allie and Adrian are the hosts for this concert. They even have a song written about them on the album. I'm really looking forward to singing it to them and their mates and the neighbours in their backyard. I hope the neighbour who plays steel drum turns up. 

April also takes me to Fawkner, a little gem of a suburb that nobody much visits. But, it houses my mates Amanda and Matt who have dubbed their lovely home and garden, "The Fawkner Farm House". It has fruit trees, vegetables, sheds and chooks. I'm looking forward to singing in their kitchen accompanied by the delicious smells of whatever Amanda has been whipping up. The kitchen is my favourite room of the house!

Then Canberra beckons and the backyard of Lainey and Steve. Fine musicians in their own right. I hope to play some tunes with them, which reminds me, I better send them a CD and some chord charts. And the talented young thing, who plays brilliant guitar and writes great songs, Hayley Shone, is going to play as well. I hope that my Viking Warrior can come and play his harmonica with me as well.

Autumn leaves, music making, and that aching sunshine for "When love came to Yarrabin street, an April sun shone......."beckons in the new month.

Moreland Leader 1st April 2013

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Homage to her home suburb
Suzanne Robson
Moreland Leader
1 Apr 2013
A STROLL through her ‘‘unpretentious’’ neighbourhood inspired Helen Begley to write an entire album about Brunswick West. That initial ‘‘haiku walk’’ resulted in the first song on her album and prompted her to delve deeper into the place she had...read more...

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© News Community Media

Fear and Loving in Wangaratta

Last Saturday night, the second night in March, I played my first house concert of "The West Brunswick Suburban Dream" Tour in the Wangaratta Lounge Room of Luke R Davies and his partner, writer and photographer, Cassie. Luke is a notable blues musician, leader and instrument maker for The Recycled String Band and my mate.

Luke and Cassie are amazing hosts. They fed and watered me. They put me up for the night. Luke fixed my crap banjo and made it sound as good as it's gonna get. They even organised Shannon Noll (you know, he came second in the first Australian Idol) as a support. As Shannon insisted on bringing his band, who were so loud, Luke and Cassie had to get them to play down at the local footy ground. So, at the half time mark of the Essendon versus Richmond footy match, Shannon's music was at the perfect wafting level for Luke and Cassie's backyard, where 25 of the best of Victoria's North East (and a couple of South east NSWailer's) gathered for a beer and some spectacular vegan treats lovingly prepared by Cassie, before the show.

At the end of Shannon's set, everyone drifted into the perfectly sized lounge room to take their seats.

And there they were. And there I was. Scared! I wonder if they were scared as well. I always have this moment just before a show. It's the moment I must make a decision. The decision is a choice between running screaming from the room, never to be seen or heard of again, or, to walk onto the stage, or, in this case, stand in front of the mantle piece, and play the songs that I have to offer to people I have never met before and who might not like what I do and might not like me and well, I could go on and list the rest of the fears, like:

They might not like what I look like they definitely won't like what I'm wearing, they'll hate my voice
and what about my unruly hair , not to mention the ordinary stories I was going to tell but have forgotten, and I'm not really a very good musician and I bet there's some really good guitarist in the room who'll be pulling my technique to shreds, do I have a technique?And I'm not that special because I was born in the Melbourne suburbs and not even the tough western suburbs of the 70's or the outer suburbs but not in the inner suburbs either just in the ordinary suburbs and I'm not working class and I'm a not a poor little rich girl and I'm notnotnotnotnot.............................

While I'm being distracted by these fears, I get introduced by Luke, and the next thing I'm thanking him and singing the first song and some woman starts crying in the second row, and I let her cry. Everyone seems to be listening and they look pretty friendly. So I try another song on them and they let me sing again. Then I start talking to them as if we're well, sitting in someone's lounge room and they talk back and, then I sing them some more songs and Luke gets up and plays harmonica and I pick up the tin can banjo and pick away at The Boilermaker's Wife (song from The Bride album) then the fireworks get let off (Really! Luke and Cass had everything covered) and before you know it, an hour has passed and the first set is over.

But will they stick around for the second set? I excuse myself to save my voice for set number two and when I return, they all come back too and take their seats. Bloody hell, I think, and launch into the West Brunswick set.

By now, we're getting pretty close, so I tell them about my birthing story and about Adrian and Allie's wedding in Yarrabin Street and my long distance relationship with James and what it's like to have had Betty as a neighbour and I sing them the songs that go with the stories. Then, Rohan gets up and plays a valve tuba with me and then I tell about how I've enjoyed hanging out with Luke and Cassie so much I might move in.

And, then I give them some CD's to take home in the hope they might remember that Saturday night we spent in Luke and Cassie's lounge room in Wangaratta where I sang them some songs and told them some stories and ended up loving the time spent with these friends, initially disguised as fearsome strangers.

Here's a love song for those lovely Wangaratta folk from the "West Brunswick" Album:

"When Love Came to Yarrabin Street"
(Lead Vocals, Uke and Guitar: Helen Begley, Backing Vocals: Emily Hayes and Ella Sidal, Double Bass: Greg Craske)

Sunset in West Brunswick by Adrian Wood

A STUDIO IN WEST BRUNSWICK

There is a recording studio in the heart of West Brunswick that sits in the backyard of a man called Lachlan Wooden. It looks, for all intents and purposes, like a single vehicle garage; a clever suburban ruse that hides the treasures that are revealed when you walk through the door.

Lachlan, owner and engineer, has lovingly lined this garage with wood and cloth, built a sound proof booth with salvaged glass and doors from a defunct major recording studio and made and hung purpose built wooden sculptures that make sure everything recorded there sounds kind to the performer.

He has a sophisticated set up of preamps housed in shelves he's made from recycled timber, an old Yamaha mixing desk, and old a tape deck he bought online that warms everything that runs through the leads and preamps to the protools set up on his computer.

He gets hold of good microphones to record the sounds, he makes everyone feel welcome and he's on board from the word go as if he were a committed member of the band or team. He also brews a mean beer that he offers from the taps of his homemade bar. He's also a family man with a gorgeous brood of girls including his warm, friendly wife, Ange. They're currently cooking another kid due in March.

I used to live next door to Lachlan and Ange.

It's been great hanging out in West Brunswick these last three days. It always feels a little bit like visiting a mate's cubby house when I hang out with Lach in his studio. My friends Greg Craske(Double Bass) and Emily Hayes(Backing Vocals) and my daughter, Ella (Backing Vocals) joined Lach and I this weekend just gone to track what is turning out to be a pretty gorgeous album which I can't wait for you to hear.

We've recorded all the ukulele tracks, all of the guitars, all the double bass tracks, and the lead and backing vocals. Only got some overdubbing to do including a few more voices on the chorus of "The West Brunswick Boat" song, a couple of harmonica tracks, some clarinet, my "legitimate" main classical instrument all through high school, glockenspiel, piano and we're thinking about bunging a hammond organ on a track or two as well. Probably another day and a half's worth of recording work.

Then mixing, mastering and printing. I reckon it'll be ready for you at the end of February.

In the meantime, have a sneak listen to a rough mix of the title track, "West Brunswick" and enjoy some pics from our studio sessions on the weekend (I realise I'm not in any of them. Next lot, eh?!) Not the best quality of the photos - not sure why!

A SUBURBAN DREAM

I grew up in Blackburn North in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne. It wasn't one of those privileged suburbs like Camberwell or Hawthorn, although people from Blackburn proper would probably argue otherwise.

It was a suburb where dads went out to work and mums stayed home and looked after their children. It was a suburb where families went to church each Sunday and alcoholics lived in six out of the ten houses in my court.

It was a suburb where children were asked regularly to hop into stranger's cars, eccentrics wandered about the streets shaking their red Shirley Temple curls as they talked to someone only they could see and the occasional flasher unzipped their trousers to unsuspecting high school girls walking along Cootamundra Way on their way home.

It was a suburb where the occasional school boy murdered his father and got away with it until one of his 16 year old accomplices, who helped moved the body from the woodpile when it started to reek, turned himself into the police 15 years later.

It was a regular suburb in the mortgage belt of Melbourne inhabited by a mix of office and factory workers from all over the world living their suburban dream.

I was no different. I also had a suburban dream; to live in Carlton where students were educated enough to have grand thoughts and musicians played in hotels. A place where I too could be a "real" musician.

When I "grew up" I moved to a share house in Lygon street that was owned by the Catholic church. I shared the house with my sister and her partner, a chef and two actors from the VCA. Rent was $30.00 each a week. But we all know what happened to Carlton. The educated students got good jobs and bought the houses they used to rent and gentrified the place which pushed the house prices and rents up and pushed me over to West Brunswick.

Don't kid yourself by thinking West Brunswick was some hip inner city suburb 20 years ago. It wasn't. I was back in the suburbs again a little more west than Blackburn North but in a place where people from all over the world lived, where the neighbours were friendly and sometimes, if you were really lucky, you got to live in a street where you could make an album with your neighbours and fulfil your suburban dream.

My dream becomes a little more real for on December 5th, 6th, 7th and 8, myself and a group of very close mates, including my best friend Emily, my Viking Warrior, my Wangaratta mate Luke, my musical buddy Greg, sound engineer extraordinaire and mate Lachlan and my daughter Ella are going to record a homage to the suburbs, "West Brunswick".

The album will be launched in house concerts in around the Northern Suburbs of Melbourne including West Brunswick, Regional Victoria, ACT and NSW and maybe even QLD.

But first, I'd like to share a Suburban Dream at my house.

If you'd like to share a Suburban Dream at your house, drop me a line at yarrabinrecords@gmail.com, and I'll come and play a West Brunswick house concert for you and your mates.

Saturday Arvo Rewrite

Today was my first Saturday home in weeks. I ordered myself a day in bed to recuperate from the weeks of work and travel. Being innately anti-authoritarian, I decided not to listen and got up instead and had a morning of emotional housekeeping; clearing, cleaning and sorting 'til I got hungry.

After lunch, I found myself with headphones on sorting through arrangements for "West Brunswick". I spent time with my best mate last night, talking about, among other things, the progress of the album. And, although we didn't say anything significant, I did admit that I was struggling to find the sound for the album, she just sympathised and nodded her approval when I said, "I spose I should just keep it simple".  Well that fairly innocuous conversation triggered a major shift because today I know exactly what to do with the sound and arrangements.

With that sorted, it was time to tackle a rewrite on The West Brunswick Wedding Song, which only a couple of close friends have heard. It was the weakest song for all sorts of reasons so today I sat down and rewrote the whole damn thing. It's now leaner and richer than it was with a clearer emotional centre. I'm pretty pleased with the result. I hope you like it too. So here's another dodgy recording for your listening pleasure. I hope you like it Allie and Adrian.

Here are the words in case you can't understand them;

When love came to Yarrabin Street
The April sun shone
Warmed as we stood on our wedding soled feet
With our best clothes on
Adrian gave Alice a ring
And Alice promised Adrian the splendid things
Of Life and loss and smooth and rough
And sure and tough and songs of love, love

And Buddy Holly sang x3
Its alright x2

When love came to Yarrabin Street
It closed down the road
And gathered outside for a Tom Waits song
And an Irish brogue
Now with each break in the traffic their voices still ring
As they married us all to the splendid things

Of Life and loss and smooth and rough

And sure and tough and songs of love, love

And Buddy Holly sang x3

Its alright x4

When love came to Yarrabin Street
West Brunswick shone.

Here's the audio:

House Concert Hosting

Last Saturday evening, I hosted a house concert at my place. As I am planning to tour "West Brunswick" to houses and tiny venues, I thought I should host a concert myself to see what my hosts may experience and to find out if there are any drawbacks or inconveniences to hosting. One of my biggest fears is to be an inconvenience or a nuisance so to ask people to host my latest work is accompanied by deep fear as well as great hope. Best to face some of those fears head on to clear the path.

So this is how my house concert unfolded:

I invited Luke R Davies to come and play a couple of sets at my house and we set a date.

I sent two emails, a facebook event invitation and one reminder and I had a full house. Easy!

Everyone prepaid which meant they turned up on the night and Luke got paid well. I kept a list of audience members so I knew who had paid. Easy!

Because it was so easy, I really looked forward to the evening and having all my mates over to share what I believed would be a lovely experience.

The day came, Luke, his partner Cassie and all the instruments arrived from Wangaratta. While they popped out to do a little sightseeing, James and I set up the loungeroom as a theatre - it looked brilliant -  some guests remarked that it looked a little like The Butterfly Club, nice one!

My gorgeous friend, Jeff, called in the afternoon and offered to help with catering. He picked up the delicious turkish breads and sweets from a local Sydney Road bakery that I had planned to serve. He also accommodated my mum who'd come down from Warburton as a surprise guest.

As guests began to arrive, James sat in the kitchen picking tunes on the banjo, he was joined by Silas Palmer, Chloe Hall's partner, who plays stellar violin. The fellas ripped out some classic Australian folk tunes while guests mingled, cracked open the drinks they'd brought and found their seats. It was a welcoming, wonderful way to begin the evening.

Guests seated,  Luke entertained for the next two hours (with a break in between to refresh drinks and eat) with his mix of classic old time country blues tunes, his original Wangaratta songs, played on both standard and homemade instruments. Each of the homemade jobs came with a story.

In the kitchen, James danced with Rose Turtle Ertler  and my mum to the more foot stomping tunes and Silas joined Luke on stage to add some amazing jazz fiddle to some of the songs.

It was such a great night I'm going to host again in a couple of months.

And now I feel very comfortable asking people to host a house concert for my "West Brunswick" tour. I reckon the hosts of "West Brunswick" will enjoy their experience every bit as much as I did mine.

There is something magical about having a performer come and enchant the house and its guests for an evening.

A letterbox drop

This morning, I walked round to Lachlan's house and popped the rough musical sketches of West Brunswick (The album), the one's you've been listening to, into his letterbox. Nine songs that in a few weeks will be ready to record. Nine songs? There are some I haven't shown you. I thought I'd leave them for a surprise when you finally hear the finished album.

Lachlan is a great sound engineer who co-produced The Bride. He used to be my next door neighbour. I hope he likes the tracks. I felt quite self conscious handing over my inferior recording attempts to an expert, but he's a good fella and won't really care one bit. We've talked about recording the songs straight to tape, like we used to before the advent of digital technology. I like old school ways, they're more familiar. Analogue creates a warmer tone and has some really interesting limitations that I quite like.  It is better suited to a musician that plays the whole song from beginning to end without dropping in than to a musician that likes digital recording because of it allows one to stop and start throughout the song.

The whole idea of recording to tape reconnects me with my younger self going to Bakehouse studios in Richmond in the mid 80's before it was Bakehouse. I recorded a demo of songs straight to tape  One or two takes for each song. 6-10 songs in one session including a mix down. Simple! I like that. I don't know whatever became of the demo. I do know I had no idea what to do with it after I made it.

This was before community radio had really taken a foothold so there weren't a lot of places to send demos to other than 3XY or Michael Gudinski and I didn't believe I was pretty enough or skinny enough to even get a look in. So for a shy, suburban girl like me, it was never going to be sent to anyone, I was too afraid of some sort of perceived cruel rejection. Truth be told, I just didn't have the guts.

So, my adult life has been as much about getting up the guts to do what that 18 year old could'n't.  West Brunswick is the next step along the way. It is as much for that shy girl of 18, who hoped for something wonderful but had no idea where that something wonderful was, as it is for the suburb and my friends who live there. I hope they all like it. Mostly, I hope that by the end of the process, I still do.

Onward and upward as Mr Lewis said.

Two Ukes, One Song and no rain today....

A Sunday song for you. Originally written for Carl Punnuzzo and performed and recorded by Carl Panuzzo and Penny Larkins.  When I first heard them sing this song, I thought my heart was going to grow so big that it would fall out of my chest and my soul felt like it was actually being sucked out into the universe. Was I experiencing what Mr W. at confirmation class suggested would happen at the second coming when the chosen souls would become light and spirit, enraptured forever? (Mr W. was into end times stuff - if you didn't go to church when you were a kid and you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, ask someone that did)

Not to be. That glimpse of heaven finished with the song. I was still in the pub, the beer was still in my hand and the Gods of Singing, I mean Carl and Penny, were still on stage. Bloody hell!

Well, this mortal, with flawed voice and two ukuleles and a touch of hubris, has had a crack at covering the song that I wrote - can you do that- aiming to pop it on the upcoming album? It's the exception to the "West Brunswick" album rule. Only Albion Street is mentioned, not the suburb.

I hope you like it, Carl and Penny, even though I reckon your version is the definitive one, I kinda like this one too.

The Ukulele Rain Song - Draft Copy
Recorded Sunday Afternoon in my lounge room on garageband.

The business of the build.....

Have you heard of that personality test where you find out if you're a builder or a director or an explorer. Well, turns out I'm more your explorer type, which is great news for a creative type. However, I'd quite like to be a bit more of a builder. Builders make structures that last, that you can live in and touch and walk around.

Being an explorer is a constant frustration to the more practical, builderly types in my life. All I can say in my defence is that I take after my father. Our family would all take a deep breath whenever he promised to fix or build something and prayed that he wouldn't take the end of his thumb off again. My dad was a great thinker and a fiend at cryptic crosswords, he was a brilliant community minded fella and a fine host who loved jazz and red wine. He just couldn't build or fix stuff although he'd sometimes have a crack. However, what was in his head just never quite materialised.

I can't really build stuff either unless you call stacking two desk drawers on top of each other to create a bookshelf, building. I find it hard enough letting my landlord know if there's a problem with my house. The thought of actually owning a house or worse, building a house, sends me running to the kitchen to shove my hyperventilating head into the paper bag I keep in the bottom drawer for just such moments.

It once took me two years to tell a landlord about the blocked shower head. While I was happy enough to "explore" other ways to shower, guests, and my daughter, got a bit pissed off when presented with the bath or bucket option.

At the moment, I am facing the task of building a website. A completely perplexing task that will require a tradesperson of some patience who can not only build the thing, but build it so I can use it without breaking it.

This Website will be an archive, a showcase, a repository, a gallery, a storybook, an album and a movie theatre. An artists space. So I place my ad:

WANTED

Patient, efficient, creative website builder.

Willing to work with a songwriter.

You will be greatly admired for your builder's skills

as you construct a user friendly artist's webspace. 

Must know what you're doing.

 She hasn't got a bloody clue.

 Though, she is pretty good with a blog. 

Website to be up by end of September.

Here's a song from the forthcoming album which is scheduled for recording in September, to whet your whistle while you think about whether you want the job. A taster of an arrangement for the title song, "West Brunswick" featuring ukulele and guitar, recorded on garageband in my lounge room.

SONG 7: A KITCHEN SINK LIFE

One of my brothers has a wife and three kids. Around the time he married, he uttered a profundity that went something like, love means doing the dishes together. It struck me as a great example of what it means to commit your life to a person. It's in the everyday mundanities that love is found. The rosy bits are nice too but as special treats along the way.

My parents did the dishes together every night after dinner. It was one of their relationship rituals along with closing their bedroom door to their four kids each night when dad got home from work so they could catch up for some uninterrupted adult conversation before the family dinner and bedtime work began.

They strengthened their relationship through their kitchen conversations, daily midday lunchtime check-ins and evening gossip sessions in the sanctuary of their room. They had met at a ball and never stopped dancing together. They also shared a love of entertaining and hospitality that gave them a reputation amongst my friends as hosting the best parties in Blackburn, which are spoken of to this day.

All that ended earlier this year. My dad died suddenly in February and my family are still working through our grief at his passing and trying to adjust to life without him. It's bloody tough. As an adult child I've found that there's an expectation that I'll just get on with things as if it was sad but over and done with now and I'm supposedly old enough to not really let it affect me that much and that I should be o.k. six months down the track.

To that I say, bullshit! Doesn't matter how old you are, losing a parent is terribly painful and I'm not o.k. about it at all. It has been the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Losing one of the people that not only helped bring me into the world but knew me like no other and loved me like no other is devastating.

My mum has lost her partner of 47 years and watching the pain she is enduring at losing a loving relationship makes for a double whammy of grief;  I have a deep feeling of powerlessness at not being able to offer her solace in the same way as the one person that could - Dad. I know many of you know what I'm talking about.

But, Song 7 is as much a celebration of a good, committed relationship as it is about loss. Inspired by taking a break from writing those "10 songs in 6 hours" to do the dishes. If there was one song out of the ten I would spend some time editing, it is probably this one. It took 40 minutes to write and needs quite a lot of work, but it's one that I reckon really deserves more time and a good edit.

CHORDS: A repeated chord progression with a descending bass line.

LYRICS:

Washed the pots and the pans
The plates that we ate from last night
There's no-one to dry up
So I leave them to drain on the sink

When I was a kid
And the table was cleared after dinner
Mum would fill up the sink
Dad would pick up a tea towel

He would stand and dry
As she cleared all the dirt form the dinner plates
They would take their time
Husband and wife
In their kitchen sink life

I'm waiting for James
To come home from another day working
I've been sitting all day
Fiddling about on guitar

When dad would come home
He'd go straight to his bedroom and change
As he hung up his clothes
Mum would lie on the bed and listen to his AMP tales

He would close the door
Lock out four children and speak like two adults
They would share the floor
Husband and wife
In their kitchen sink life

My mum called on Friday
She said, "I've had another hard week.
I know it's only been five months
But Helen, I miss him more than I can speak
I"ve washed the pots and the pans
The plates that I ate from last night
But there's no one to dry up
So I'll leave them to drain at the end of our kitchen sink life"

He would stand and dry

As she cleared all the dirt form the dinner plates

They would take their time

Husband and wife

In their kitchen sink life

RECORDING:

TOMORROW: I SONG ABOUT NEEDING A CUPPA TEA AFTER WRITING SONG 7

I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER

Those of you that know me, also know that I have always grappled with fluctuating weight. I have been 30 kilos heavier and 15 kilos lighter than I am now. The primary reason is that I eat to comfort myself. When I feel anxious or sad or excited, eating evens me out, so I eat what I need to stay alive and then I keep eating what I need to feel calm and counter whatever heightened state I'm in.

I ate too much the day I wrote those 10 songs in 6 hours. Well, on the binge eating scale it wasn't that bad; only one big packet of chips, I didn't succumb to following it with lollies, maybe a whole cake and possibly a pack of biscuits.

In the past, I would've eaten a family block of cadbury's, a large packet of chips, and whipped down the street for a souvlaki or hamburger and back for ice-cream and possibly a little more chocolate or a packet of timtams. I stopped eating chocolate five years ago when my cholesterol started creeping up.

Now, I can't eat like that, my body won't take it. I even lost an organ as a result of my lifetime of bingeing. I still miss my gall bladder.

I know many women and men who eat for comfort and that's why I thought I'd share this song with you. I haven't managed to completely modify my eating behaviour but I'm getting a bit better than I have been in the past and writing a song about over eating kinda helped too.


CHORDS - It's a three chord pop/rock song. A little bit ROCK in the USA I reckon.

LYRICS:

I have an eating disorder
I'm a disorderly eater
I"m not thin I'm not fat
But I prefer the taste of this to that
As long as I feel happy at the point of no return

I can scoff a pack of biscuits
But turn my back on chocolate
And if I walk for an hour
I am likely to devour
A big fat slab of hummingbird cake
And a bag of chips
And that batch of cookies I just baked

I eat a eat a healthy breakfast
Then if I get a little anxious
Or I'm bored
Or I'm sad
there's a milk bar and a cafe
Where they keep my happy happys
That I swallow quickly quickly
Before you all find out

I have an eating disorder
I have an eating disorder

RECORDING:



TOMORROW: SONG 7 IS ABOUT LOVE AND DOING THE DISHES

Lullaby Afternoon

As I write this, it's getting close to the afternoon slump when the whole of Spain take a nap, when the teacher's voice becomes a soporific drone and when I've almost inappropriately dropped off to sleep while teaching someone the C chord.

At the moment, the heater fan is whirring, the traffic has got lazier and a miner bird's whistle punctuates a lull in the afternoon. Song 5, "Lullaby Afternoon", is a quiet song written at 2.40pm on Wednesday 4th July.

If you notice, even this blog entry has a little afternoon laziness about it.


CHORDS: Another song that repeats a 4 chord pattern through the song.

LYRICS:
The neighbours home
I'd like to sleep
Play quietly
She won't hear a peep outta me

She's whistling
A cheerful song
Calls her cat
In a voice all honey seeded mustard warm

In our lullaby afternoon
Our lullaby afternoon

It's 20 to 3
Can I lay on the chair
And watch T.V
Or just sit and stare at the fishtank

Listen to Nth Richmond
The calls of native birds
And quiet housebound people
Who don't like to disturb the neighbours

In our lullaby afternoon

Our lullaby afternoon

RECORDING:

TOMORROW'S SONG IS ABOUT EATING DISORDERS - I WAS HUNGRY!

From Brunswick West to Kurrajong

I've never lived outside of Melbourne, except for 9 months spent in Fiji in another life. I was so homesick for the first three months that I cried nearly everyday and had a pretty rotten time of it. Once I was over that bit, I had a pretty good time. Upon my return to Melbourne all those years ago, I stayed  and other than moving suburbs, have never ventured far from this comfortable city except for holidays and band tours. But, over the last few years I've had a growing desire to leave this comfort of the familiar to experience other places and people on a more permanent basis.

At the moment, I'm thinking of doing the unthinkable, from a Melburnians point of view, and leaving my hometown for Sydney. Of course, the thought brings with it a myriad of anxieties and concerns. From, where will I work and how will I earn money? To, can I really handle the relentless traffic and harder edges of this glittering city? From, where the hell am I going to live? To, how can I leave my daughter? Even though she no longer lives at home, I'm still her mother so shouldn't I at least live in the same state as her?

But there's this insistent call of love and music coming from the north and that road to Sydney is only a few blocks from where I live.

Song 4 is about the call of the road.  The chord progression is unashamedly ripped off from another song but given that I don't mean to profit from the work, and will never release it commercially as it's only part of a writing exercise written in about 36 minutes, I don't much care.

CHORDS: A cliched progression of G D Em C cycled through the entire song.

LYRICS:
In six months time
I'm heading up the Hume
I need a new adventure
Need to fly a little closer to you

Melbourne's been my home
For all my little life
I"m growing tired of it's story
Growing tired of my southbound bass strait eyes

Oh the road leads me on
From Brunswick West to Kurrajong
To your mountain home and your bushman's song
Oh that road leads me on

Could I stay in Bondi Beach?
Afford a harbour view?
Get a houseboat on the Hawkesbury?
Or a chalet in the blue blue mountains?

Will the rentals be too high
The roads always be this clogged
Will I find the perfect house
Will I find another job in Sydney?

Oh the road leads me on

From Brunswick West to Kurrajong

To your mountain home and your bushman's song

Oh that road leads me on

RECORDING

TOMORROW: THE SOUND WORLD OF THE 3PM SLUMP IN NTH RICHMOND, SYDNEY

SONG 3 The Banjo Borrower

I reckon that if you're going to use someone's instrument, you should ask first. It's the polite thing to do.

The day I chose to do the "10 songs in 6 hours" exercise, my Viking Warrior was out working hard. But he'd left his banjo lying in my sightline.

It's not any old banjo either, it's a Gibson RB4 with a walnut resonator which he bought in Nashville at the legendary Gruen's Guitars when we were there last year. I helped choose it, along with the aid of an over the phone consultation to my mate, Adam, back in Australia.

My little let'snotworryaboutyourselfrighteousmoralcode voice suggested I open the case and have a bit of play without asking him. I halfheartedly resisted, but ended up making a hypocrite of myself when temptation got the better of me. As I opened the case, I justified borrowing the instrument by telling myself that I'd been there when he bought the banjo and he was my boyfriend so all share in love and war (hang on that's not right!).  And so, without asking, I got it out of the case and went for it.

Now, my Viking Warrior is a very laid back fellow and wouldn't have minded at all, but I bloody well minded as I indulged in my guilty pleasure.

The song suggests the trouble I should've got into (but didn't) if my fella was a hard arse like me, except I'm not really either, thus the banjo borrowing.

Bloody hell, I'll stop digging now. Here's the rather silly banjo song re-recorded on my rather crap banjo back in Melbourne.

THE BANJO BORROWER
Chords: Just a straight  I IV V combination. Very stock standard and predictable.

Lyrics:
I took his banjo out of it's case
I sat his banjo on my knee
While he's been out working
I've been picking at those strings
Lord, he's gonna crucify me.

I sat at the table and wrote him a song
To sing to him when he comes home
When he pulls up in his tyre fitters truck
I'll sing, "Babe, can't leave your banjo alone"

I took his banjo out of it's case

I sat his banjo on my knee

While he's been out working

I've been picking at those strings

Lord, he's gonna crucify me.

I put his banjo back into his case
Hoping that he'd never guess
But my baby has a way of knowing where I've been
He's so good I may as well confess that

I took his banjo out of it's case

I sat his banjo on my knee

While he's been out working

I've been picking at those strings

Lord, he's gonna crucify me.

RECORDING:

TOMORROW'S SONG IS ABOUT AN INTERSTATE MOVE!

Song 2: The Music Box that Sings When We're Apart

The Sydney 10 songs in 6 hours "Album", is ready for curious listeners. Over the next 9 days I'll pop up a song a day, just so you don't get too overwhelmed. It will give you an idea of what kind of songs came out every 40 minutes over the course of the song writing exercise. They haven't been edited, just rerecorded so you can hear them a bit better.

I've decided Song 1 and 2  are not for public consumption because of personal content I"m not comfortable sharing.  Some songs are like that.


TOMORROW'S SONG IS ABOUT ILLICIT BANJO PLAYING!

Take 1 Writers Block, 2 Instruments, 6 Hours, 10 Songs and a Computer.

I'm having a holiday this week from my normal work teaching music and working at a homelessness service.

I've been looking forward to the free time so I could finish those last three songs for the West Brunswick album. Write them out of my system and move on to recording them was the plan. Well, the best laid plans eh?!

When I came to sit down and write I was so anxious; about finishing which is caused by the ridiculously high expectations I have for myself and my work, about there being no more songs left, and about falling short of what everyone may be expecting from my efforts. Typical songwriterly preoccupations, really.  I was so preoccupied with fear that nothing came out or if it did, I believed it was no good! What to do?

Well, I've been writing long enough to know that these irrational creative fears need to be dealt with immediately so that I can get to the songs sitting behind the anxiety and I have just the antidote. A few years ago, I came across two books. "The Artists Way", written for everyone who wants to live a more creative life and  "The Frustrated Songwriters Handbook", written for blocked songwriters.

In "The Artists Way" the author, Julia Cameron, talks about creative blocks being the product of too many ideas not too few, which made, and still makes, sense to me. "The Frustrated Songwriters Handbook" has exactly the right exercise to shift the block. It throws out a simple challenge to write 20 songs in 12 hours.

I did the exercise a few years ago, albeit in a slightly modified version, and it worked a treat. So I decided to do it again. I set myself a challenge of writing 10 songs in 6 hours. That's an album's worth in one sitting. I found that completing songs 8, 9 and 10 became the most important part of the exercise as this is where I've got stuck with the "West Brunswick" songs.  So on Wednesday at 11am, I sat down and started.

What I did was write the first thing that came into my head over the first chords that arrived under my fingers. One song every 36 minutes. Some are hilarious, some are really poignant, some are mean, some sound like other songs, one is really dirty and one made me cry.

Once each song was finished, I did a rough recording and moved on.

I listened to my "album" at the end of the session. It was great! I felt a real sense of accomplishment, the anxiety was released and I finished feeling lighter and brighter and confident that I can finish those West Brunswick songs now. I might even borrow a mates West Brunswick bungalow for inspiration as I now live in Coburg and do the exercise again next week - what do ya reckon Allie and Adrian?

Stay tuned for the "10 Sydney Songs in a Day Album" on this blog soon - roughly recorded by me on my computer complete with computer noise and dodgy mixing!

Try the challenge yourself and let's do a gig together that showcases our songs.

Helen x