It stems really from the some of the remembrances discussed in ‘listen 7’ of the King of Rock and Roll (see below) of being in a band aged around 16. I really thought (abstractly, now I think of it, and without any game plan whatsoever as to how to action it) that I was going to be, if not a famous rock star, then certainly a musician in that high school band for the foreseeable future; that I would be working within the then utopian and unknown (to me) music industry. This naive dream was curtailed by the following gradual realisations:
a) I’m not really that good a musician/songwriter
b) I’m not confident/ egotistical enough to want thousands of people to buy/know the songs that I do write
c) The music industry is no place to nurture your dreams; it is not a forgiving and friendly environment
d) I actually hate performing live
e) nobody will ever care as much about my songs as I do
All of these things are probably fairly common among musicians who ‘fail to make it’. I am not bitter about any of them now – I almost feel sorry for this younger version of myself for dreaming such an intangible dream. But, on the other hand, I get the distinct impression that were my younger self able to see the contemporary me, he would be less than impressed that “we” aren’t in a band and making music as a full time occupation.
So this song is something of a letter explaining ‘myself’ to ‘him’. I know its self-indulgent, but I hope it will kick-start some writing I want to do about my experiences of being in a band playing at dodgy pubs, social clubs, town halls and marquees around County Durham.