Song writing is a strange obsessive business. Tossing chords and words in the air, the iphone in record on the benchtop. I reach for the guitar, then put it down again.. I walk. I run. I cannot rest. “Noodling” it’s called, staying slightly ahead of a thought left hanging like the very riddle of existence, the one that provoked you in the beginning, churning forever in the dark little room of your mind. One day a phrase caught your attention. It cried out to be sung. You looked for the melody that rang true, under your breath at first, then a little louder, closing the garage door when the singing turned into a scream.
Suddenly the dog rises from its resting place. She noses the slider. You put down the guitar and wander over to help her escape the cacophony and then the phone rings. Your daughter’s kitchen sink is blocked. There’s an awful smell she says. Help me. But somehow in the midst of all this the urge remains.. to build a tune that expresses how you feel. And how you feel is the sum total of all that surrounds you anyway, all that defines your condition as you navigate your way through life. The world and your feelings feed each other, back and forth. You’re just like everybody, and finding the songs is your way of engaging with the world. And you realise that the songs are you. Any songwriter who tells you otherwise is lying.