fourteen28

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I present to you: fourteen28 - an album of 14 songs written and recorded in the past 28 days of February 2014.

I'm immensely proud to have seen this through. It's the kind of idea I often have and end up spending lots of time thinking about but never actually doing. It's been hard work, not to mention time-consuming (just ask my girlfriend) but it's taught me so much about songwriting and creativity in general. Whilst none of these songs are in any way perfect, I'm pleased with them given how quickly they were turned around. Please do share your feedback!

So, without further ado, here it is: all 47 minutes and 33 seconds of it, presented in the order it was recorded.

Three big lessons I took from this process:

1. If you want to make something, make the time for it. Everything else will follow. Just becuase you don't feel like doing it, doesn't mean you can't do it just as well as when you're in the mood.
2. You can write a song about anything, or at least try to - setting some arbitrary constraints and a deadline can actually help creativity.
3. Song-writing is an iterative process. I can only imagine how many potentially good songs I've binned over the years because I gave up when it got difficult. I didn't abandon a single song that I started this month.

Song 14: fourteen28 (Day 28)

Here it is, song number 14! I did it; fourteen entirely new songs in 28 days. Trying to make some connections at the end of this whole thing, I though about how I'm also 28 years old and how it would be nice to write a song to my 14 year old self. For an additional constraint, I made it 140 seconds long. Here it is:


fourteen28

Your best friend's gone away,
No one's got your back.
Seeing red in this world of grey,
Your mind black.
But know this now, you're on the cusp,
Your light's about to shine.
You'll get high on this and get drunk with lust,
Just bide your time.

Hey, it's OK.
Trust me, you don't have long to wait.
Play, seize the day,
You're fourteen now but you'll soon be twenty-eight,
So get out there.

Don't wish your life away,
Don't let your dreams escape,
The best it yet to come.
Don't let your heart grow cold,
Don't let your grow old,
Now go have some fun.

Take some care of that head of hair,
And learn to love those curls.
If the girls don't speak to you,
Go speak to the girls.
Don't be scared to make mistakes,
They're the only way you'll learn.
Trust me, you've got what it takes,
But self respect is earned.

Song 13: Purgatory (Day 27)

The penultimate song number 13. Lucky for some? I chose to hedge my bets by writing a song about purgatory: the other other place. All I know is that it's a halfway house between heaven and hell. Being none the wiser, I took this opportunity to make the rest of it up.




Purgatory

I'm not a saint, I'm not a sinner,
I'm not a loser, but I'm not much of a winner.
A bit of shame, a little pride,
Sometimes pain, sometimes glory.
Mostly honest, with the occasional lie,
Mostly modest, but when I die,
I've got no one else to blame,
When I end up in Purgatory.

I'm going to Purgatory,
Good enough for how much I care.
It won't be decked in gold, but it won't be hot or cold,
Probably going to see you there.
I'm going to Purgatory,
Good enough for how much I care
Purgatory,
I'll see you there.

Too good for hell, too bad for heaven,
On most ratings out of ten, I score about a seven.
I don't need crowns or angel choirs,
I don't need brimstone and I don't need fire.
I don't commit all of the seven deadly sins,
But then I can only name about five,
And I don't often go to mass but then,
At least I've been baptized.

I'm going to Purgatory,
But I'm not quite sure where to find it.
If heaven is up and hell is down,
I guess Purgatory's the side bit.
Purgatory,
Though I'm not quite sure who's in charge there.
If God's running heaven and Satan's in hell,
I guess Purgatory's more laissez-faire.

Purgatory,
Good enough for how much I care.
Purgatory,
I think we might already be there.

Song 12: Glorious Leader (Day 23)

Shit just got weird.

At the end of January, I wrote a list of song ideas to keep me going. Today it came in handy. Some of those ideas include:

"A Humble Tribute to Our Glorious Leader"
"Paranoia-induced dystopian future song"
"Insane in the Ukraine"
"Protest/rebel song"
"Surrealist song"
"Sleazy 80s synth pop"

I can only describe this song as a combination of a bit of each of these. Enjoy!

Glorious Leader

Bring us together, make us one.
We stand united, we cannot be undone.
Speak for your people, a nation's voice,
We will submit to you our will and choice.

Glorious Leader,
Bring the strength that we require.
Glorious Leader,
Give us answers we desire.

Lead us forward, make us great,
We toil together for the nation we create.
Bring us progress, plans of high precision,
Help us to build the world that you envision.

Glorious Leader,
We're hungry and we're tired.
Glorious Leader,
Where is the future we desired?

We are the people, we are as one.
We stand united, we cannot be undone.
You're not our leader, it's time for change.
We rise against you and cast away our chains.

Revolution,
Bring the strength that we require.
Revolution,
Give us answers we desire.

Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!

Song 11: Die Another Day (Day 22)

Madonna has written some truly iconic pop songs. Her theme song to the 2002 Bond movie, Die Another Day, was sadly not one of them. It was a crime against Bond themes and the legacy of John Barry.

My long list of song ideas had "Bond theme" on it, so, I decided I would write an alternative theme for this great movie, using the film's plot to shape the lyrics. Here is (another) Die Another Day!

(Also, I'm back on schedule: 11 songs in 22 days. Three to go...



Die Another Day

A diamond that's paid for with blood,
Can buy you a sword.
But you're making a deal with the devil,
That you can't afford.

A spy for a spy,
The whole world goes blind,
As Icarus flies,
Into the sun's rays.
Fire from the sky,
Can't cut through these lines,
You live to die another day.

A palace that's built out of ice,
Will soon melt away.
A virtue that's built on a vice,
Will soon be betrayed.

A man who thinks all is lost,
Has nothing to lose,
You can run, you can hide from the past,
But you can't hide the truth.

A fight to the death,
With a familiar stranger,
No time to rest,
You're in grave danger.

Song 10: Make it up (Day 22)

Bosh, three in a day! This song is a weird sort of collaboration: FAWMers are given a list of chords and some lyrics, and have to record a song with them. Here's my effort:





Just to demonstrate the fun of this challenge, here are three other versions done my fellow February Album Writers:

@complexissimple


@bska13

@taracraig



Chords: 

Set 1: Am C Dm F C Em F F
Set 2: A E Bm Dm A E F G A

Lyrics:

You’re gonna be suspended 
Starting when you’re tempted to be
Tuning out the sirens
Siding with the tyrants
Tired of deflation
Tired of frustration

Make it up, make it up, make it all up

Running out of lucky strikes
Firing on appetite
Craving another bite
Bedbugs kiss goodnight
Underneath the bedsheet
Ready to concede defeat

Make it up, make it up, make it all up

Visions of paradise
Swollen with parasites
Swimming in your bloodstream
Nothing but a dry dream
Curing in the sunlight
You would rather switch than fight

Make it up, make it up, make it all up
Make it up, make it up, make it all up

Song 9: When I grow up (Day 22)

Whoa there! Two in a day? That's right - time for a serious Saturday song-writing session. So I'd written most of this one already but rather than spend half a day on a demo, I bashed out a little acoustic number. This was in response to a song-writing challenge to write about childhood. So I wrote about my lofty childhood ambitions. Strangely, working for a bank didn't make the list...



When I grow up

I'm gonna be a deep-sea diver,
That's my burning wish.
Diving for treasure, deep beneath the weather,
With a big purple octopus and fish.

I'm gonna be a bicycle courier,
With a mo-hawk and a beard.
Zipping through the traffic with another secret package,
With scars instead of fears.

When I grow up,
I'll be able to do everything.
When I grow up,
I'll be free to do anything.
When I grow up,
When I grow up.

I'm gonna be an airline pilot,
Soaring through the sky.
I'll switch in the seat-belt light and dim the cabin lights at night,
Every time I fly.

I'm gonna be the captain of a great big ship,
And sail the ocean blue.
I'll be a salty dog and I'll write things in my log,
But only if they're true.

Song 8: Running out of time (Day 22)

A song inspired by the fact that I've only written half of my fourteen songs and there's only a week left to finish! Still, I'm past the half-way mark and there are some other ideas swirling around...

Running out of time

Seconds tick into minutes, slip into hours.
Seeds grow into leaves and explode into flowers.

We're running out of time,
And time's not ours to make.
We're running out of time,
It's only ours to take.

Yesterday burns to memory, turns to history.
Today fades away, now gives way to mystery.

Time's not on our side,
Can't turn back the ticking hands.
Can't run, can't hide,
Can't hold back the slipping sands.

Days creep into weeks and bleed into years.
Wants grow into needs and explode into fears.

Song 7: These Strange Islands (Day 18)

Another day, another song. This is my "political" (with a small 'p') song. It was mostly penned on the train between Belfast and Dublin last week with the Scottish independence referendum swirling in my head. I was thinking about how, though we may deny it, there is something of a subtle UK and Irish persona lurking under the surface of all the identity debates going on across "these strange islands" - none of which have a particular flag attached to them. Musically, it was rushed out in half an hour because I have some catching up to do, but I think it fits well enough! I only ask that it's taken in the jovial sense it's intended; if you're offended by it, you've missed the point.


These Strange Islands

Some say that we're better together,
Some say that we're better apart,
Some say you should vote with your head,
And others with your wallet, and others with your heart,
But if Scotland is set free, along with 50 Labour seats,
You subject the northern English working-class periphery,
To another generation of Tory perpetuity...

These strange islands,
Make no sense to me,
Make so much of little differences,
Instead of all the similarities.
Can't we just agree,
To blame our ancestry?
And the socioeconomics of the 17th century,
And the associated politics of aristocracy?

Some say that there's no surrender,
And some say tiocfaidh ár lá,
Some sing songs about the Billy boys,
Some sing about the 'RA.

Why can't they just agree to drink tea and eat fifteens?

Because they're more like each than anyone else that I can see,

Just two different communities in a consociational democracy...

These strange islands,
Make no sense to me,
Make so much of little differences,
Instead of all the similarities.
Can't we just agree,
To blame our ancestry?
And the prevailing ideologies of the 16th century,
And the different interpretations of Christianity?

Some say let's be part of Europe,
Some say we're the 51st state,
Some say we should close our borders,
Some say we should all emigrate.
These islands in the sea, and their idiosyncrasies,
We conquered a third of the known world,
But we won't take French at GCSE...

These strange islands,
Make no sense to me,
Make so much of little differences,
Instead of all the similarities.
Can't we just agree,
To blame our ancestry?
And the all consuming wars of the 20th century,
And the European project to fight the next one with bureaucracy?

These strange islands.

Song 6: Man He Played the Blues (Day 17)

I'm afraid there's been a bit of a hiatus on the song posting. I was in Dublin for a week with work, then it was Valentine's day, then my sister came to town... Not to worry though, I've still been writing and there's still time - I just need to churn out the last eight in record time!

Anyway, this is my first collaboration. Another Fawmer, Tony/@benjo, penned these lyrics and asked for someone to try putting them to music. This is what I came up with!



Man He Played The Blues

rolled up another smoke
struck a match on his shoe
took a long long drag on it
and sucked in all the fumes

took a swig of his whiskey
and he swallowed it hard
and with his shakin hands
picked up his old guitar

sat on an upturned crate
hat pulled low on his shades
old hard black stony face
tapped his foot as he played

man he played the blues
man he played the blues
told how his woman was cruel
man he played the blues

man he played the blues
man he played the blues
sold a broken heart to the moon
man he played the blues

his old fingers came alive
and had a mind of their own
up and down her neck with love
she played through his soul

in a worn out husky voice
earned from the smoky bars
his tone was soft and low
and it stole so many hearts

man he played the blues
man he played the blues
told his troubles to the moon
man he played the blues

man he played the blues
man he played the blues
told how his woman was cruel
man he played the blues

man he played the blues

The Nine Day E.P.

Nine days in, five songs written. Sounds like time for an E.P. release!

I'm really pleased to have made it this far; I'd forgotten how rewarding and how much fun song writing can be. My biggest worry (aside from sharing half-cooked demos with the world) was that I'd run out of ideas. But it's been the total opposite: the more I've been writing, the more I think of to write about. So here - in all their raw glory - are the first five songs of my February album. Just nine more to do!

Song 5: What Other People Do (Day 9)

I was grinding away with the music on this one all morning to little avail. Took a break and jumped in the shower and - bam - the line came out of nowhere. All the pieces then seemed to fall into place. I'm not going to give any explanations or make any excuses for this one - I like it.

I have a half-baked bridge for it but I'm missing a chord... out of town for the next few days but hopefully I can share it later.



What Other People Do

Don't speak with your mouth full,
Not like other people do.
Don't speak until you're spoken to,
That's what other people do.
Walk away and don't fight back,
That's what other people do.
Don't go astray, stay on track,
Just like other people do.

Try to let go,
Don't do what you're told.
Only you know,
How it should unfold,
If you want to do,
What other people do.

You don't dance to the music,
Not like other people do.
Don't take a chance and be romantic,
That's what other people do.
Stay safe and don't go wild,
That's what other people do.
Get married, have a child,
Just like other people do.

Don't judge, don't think,
Don't listen, don't drink,
Don't drive, don't stare,
Don't apologize, don't care.

Song 4: The Freudian Blues (Day 8)

After a bit of a mid-week lull, I'm back on schedule with song number four, The Freudian Blues. This came out a conversation about psychology last night. Like many others, I've never really understood Freud's work. In particular, I was trying to get my head round his structural model: all that Id, Ego and Super-Ego stuff. Then I discovered that it makes much more sense when, instead of using the Latin words, you translate his work into plain English. Then they become "the It", "the I" and "the over-I"/"I above". This more literal interpretation led me to think the conversation these different parts of our mind are having and out came this song.

It was a bit of a grind getting this one out, to be honest. The muse got up and left me, but I'll put that down to the drubbing Scotland took in the rugby this afternoon. Blues indeed!

The Freudian Blues

It said, "this is mine, I was here first."

It said, "I don't mind, I'll quench my thirst".

It said, "don't tease me, please me now,

Don't ask me why, don't ask me how,

I'll skip the line, I'll make you do your worst."

The world is only what we choose to see.

We are just the things we choose to be.

I don't think It's working.

It knows I'm not winning

I appeal to higher powers, over-me.

The I said, "come on over"; the I said, "we can share".

Wishing all the time you'd stayed right there.

I said, "it's give and take round here".

It said, "you fake, you're full of fear".

It said "roll over"-I don't think that's fair.

Song 3: What Am I, Google? (Day 3)

A fun little Monday number right here. This is a response to this week's mini challenge - to write a song where the title is a question. I was struggling for ideas, so I started typing question words (who, what, why, etc) into Google, and jotting down all of the auto-fill suggestions. Suddenly it dawned on me - why not write a song about the most common questions people ask Google? So I did; all the questions in the song are the some of the most common ones people ask Google. Whilst I've poked a bit of fun at it, I was struck by the fact that whilst all these people are searching for these things in secret and no doubt feeling alone, they're questions that lots of us want to ask. I hope they found the answers they were looking for.


No big production this time - just guitar and vocals. I also recorded it quite late in the evening, so I had to keep the volume down, but hopefully you get the idea.

What am I, Google?

Please tell me, Google,
I really need to know.
Oh please just tell me,
When's it going to snow?

What am I, Google?
Am I overweight?
Please tell me, Google,
Who shot JFK?

I really need an answer,
Won't you tell me what to do?
Please tell me, Google, what am I?
And why am I asking you?

Please tell me, Google,
Why am I so tired?
What am I, Google?
And when do you think I'll die?

Can you tell me if I'm pregnant?
And if I am, are we in love?
Or am I just a psychopath?
Or all of the above?

Why do cats purr?
Why do we dream?
Where is Chuck Norris?
Who unfriended me?
Do I have depression?
Should I quit my job today?
Am I an alcoholic?
Am I gay?

What am I, Google?
I really need to know.
Where am I, Google?
I've got nowhere else to go.

Song 2: Let's go to Space (Day 2)

Do you ever think about just chucking your gear into the back of a spaceship and flying off somewhere new? Well that's clearly what was in my head this morning when I penned this somewhat 'whimsical' number. I suppose if I was to be poncy about it, I'd say it's a juxtaposition between the wonders of space travel and the banality of most other forms of travel. Or just a daft little ditty I threw together whilst watching Andrew Marr; you be the judge. If nothing else, today I learned that the plural of nebula is nebulae. Every day's a school day.


I'm quickly discovering that the writing is the easy part. Putting together a demo version that I'm willing to share with the world, however, is hard work. I was half way through making the first one today only to find it was in a key that called upon my falsetto (read: strangled cat) voice, so I had to drop it down a bit and start over. That said, it was a great exercise in perseverance, as this is the kind of song that would normally get forgotten about in a notebook somewhere. Whilst it's not going to win a Brit Award, I'm glad I saw it through.

Two songs from two rather long days. Only 12 more to go - let's see how much I can cram in after work in the evenings.

Let's go to Space

Strap me to a great big rocket,
And blast me off.
No need for a passport in my pocket,
There's no borders in the sky above.

Light years for our interstellar travel,
I hope you brought a magazine.
Way out where the milky way unravels
Like the bubbles in a washing machine.

Let's leave this place,
Let's go to space,
Let's set up on our own among the stars
And the galaxies and the nebulae and the black holes.
So pack your bags,
And bring a flag,
To plant into a world that we'll call ours,
Among the asteroids and the satellites and the probes.

Touch down on a sleepy little planet,
With oceans the colour of wine.
We'll build a house with a garden to inhabit,
Just like the one we left behind.

Song 1: Slave to Reason (Day 1)

They say the a journey of a thousand licks begins with a single harmonic. Or at least they should. First day of the challenge and I've written, recorded and uploaded my first song: Slave to Reason.


This one started out with a couple of riffs that gave me a bit of a stoner-rock vibe. Not quite sure where the title came from, I think I was just watching all the insanity on the news and feeling all idealistic, then wondered if my tendency to try and be rational about everything and attach meaning is sometimes a disadvantage in life. Deep, dude. Out came "slave to reason" and the rest of the lyrics slotted in around it.

Thankfully I've started out with a genre that isn't renown for the profundity of it's lyrics and certainly won't become so from this contribution. The natural guitar harmonics happened by accident (to marvelous effect), though I take full responsibility for the prog-rock organ and and make no apologies for it either!

It's a rough cut - there's a bit of a skip into the chorus, a couple of bum-notes and it's the first time I've used my vocal cords in anger for a while - but overall I'm extremely pleased with it. I'll go back and polish it up later (hopefully in the company of a real drummer) but no time for that now; thirteen more songs to write...

Slave to Reason

Give me answers, give me names,
I need to know right now.
Give me a culprit, someone to blame,
Make them show me how.
I need a reason, I want to see,
Someone explain it please - it can't just "be".
Things don't just happen by themselves,
And they've been happening to me.

I'm a slave to reason,
The who, the what, the how, the when, the why.
Your faith is like treason,
Don't you need to know to know that you're alive?

Confusion blinds me, I cannot see,
If I don't understand.
If I don't get it, it gets me,
Show me what's in your other hand.

The world's gone crazy, my mind's aloft
In an endless circle of circumstance.
I give up asking, the question's lost
to the harbingers of happenstance.