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23Apr
“Children of Peace” — Research for a Song
Blog, Songwriting
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(This first appeared, with slight changes, on my Yorkscene.ca blog 9 Feb 2011)
Yes, I’m doing research for a song. Because not all songs are about the writer’s navel-gazing feelings, or about love, that bottomless pit of inspiration (and too often cliché) for songwriters.
I love writing songs on unusual topics and songs that tell stories. If they tell a Canadian story, even better. So I’m now writing one about the Sharon Temple (www.sharontemple.ca), a unique heritage site in the north of York Region, where I’ve lived since 2006.
The temple, completed in 1832, was built by a fascinating sect called the Children of Peace. You could say they were the first hippies: they valued peace, social justice and equality; they lived together cooperatively in one village; they held feasts where everyone shared food; they wore colourful clothing when they marched in processions; and music and song were a big part of their worship. (Not much sex or drugs, though, from what I can tell, though there were rumours about their leader having a special relationship with a female member of the sect — and it wasn’t his wife.)
When I visited the temple last summer I thought maybe there was a song there – after all, I’d already written one about the Thomas Foster Memorial near Uxbridge, another striking building with a poignant tale behind it.
So I began by reading a book about the sect written by the curator of the temple, John McIntyre, whom I also happen to know. Then I wondered: would I simply recount the basic facts, how Pennsylvanian David Willson came to Upper Canada looking for land, joined a Quaker meeting, and then had visions that led him to break away from the Quakers to found the Children of Peace and build the temple? That was too straightforward.
One photograph I’d seen at Sharon haunted me: the abandoned temple, paint peeled away, windows broken, with cows grazing obliviously around it. I kept wondering what it must have felt like to see the temple in that sorry state while recalling its glory days.
So I invented a very old woman, the last surviving member of the sect, to be the narrator of my song. I sent my first-draft lyrics to John. He told me that the last member had indeed been a woman, Emily McArthur (1837-1924); she’d been part of the sect for decades and had in fact seen the temple looking as it had in the photograph!
I knew then I’d found my way into the song. Here are the first two verses (note the village of Sharon was originally named Hope by the Children of Peace):
my name is Emily McArthur
I am old but I remember
when our meeting flourished, one in spirit and in mind
and we named our village Hope
and thus we lived in Hope and prospered
but now I am alone, I am the last one of my kindNow the temple stands deserted,
peeling paint and broken windows
and the wind blows through the thistles growing wild beside the door
and cattle graze around it
their great brown eyes unheeding
that the Children of Peace are no more
19Feb
In the Land of One Hand
Songwriting
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I recently broke my wrist engaging in that traditional Canadian winter pastime, slipping on a sidewalk that didn’t look slippery.
I won’t bore you with details of the ensuing saga related to two hospitals and the casts they’ve put on me and then had to modify because of the pain the last one was causing (hmm, I seem to have in fact just bored you with some details, my apologies), but suffice to say I’ve spent far too much time in the past three weeks sitting around emergency departments and fracture clinics, contemplating just how I’ll be getting through the three upcoming gigs I had, given that due to the way the cast sits on my arm, not to mention the fact I can barely hold a dishcloth in the bad hand, let alone a guitar pick, I CANNOT PLAY GUITAR!
So I began to get an idea for a silly song while sitting in Emerg three days ago deep in contemplation of my situation. By popular demand, here are the lyrics, set to a corny, self-pitying (but not quite maudlin) country-waltz tune, which I laboriously — since I don’t actually play piano — picked out on a cheap Casio keyboard:
IN THE LAND OF ONE HAND © M.L. Hammond 2012
I live by myself in the land of one hand
and unless you have been there you won’t understand
all the things you can’t do when one hand is broke
Like putting on pantyhose – ha! what a joke
in the land of one hand all the beds are unmade
teeth are unflossed and guitars are unplayed
clothes are un-ironed and veggies aren’t peeled
and things packed in plastic are eternally sealed
(seriously, try opening a bag of e.g. pretzels with one hand!)
and I only eat stuff that comes out of a box
because tin cans and jars might as well be Fort Knox
and for holding things down I use elbows and knees
you should see what I do to give toothpaste a squeeze!
But here is the upside: I’ve got an excuse
for letting my vacuum fall into disuse
My current, modified cast
I’ve never liked housework, so isn’t it grand
that we don’t do much cleaning in the land of one hand
Instead I twiddle my thumb
and I spend hours napping
and that sound that you hear
it’s my one good hand clapping
In the land of one hand, things take twice as long
and get done half as well – for example, this song
so I’ve cancelled today and tomorrow’s unplanned
and for once in my life I’ve got time on my hand!
05Nov
You Can Be a Record Producer!
Music Biz
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It’s true. You can even be MY record producer, or at least an honorary one. All it takes is some money. But before you label me a total mercenary, read on…
You may have noticed these days the indie record/music scene is almost as big as the non-indie scene – if not in terms of dollars, then certainly in terms of the number of artists. In fact, there are undoubtedly more independents than acts signed to major labels. Everyone with three chords and a laptop is a musician nowadays. Democracy comes to the music biz!
Independently poor
The Internet played a large part in this, of course. Suddenly everyone was illegally sharing music and no one was buying. So labels would only sign sure moneymakers, forcing artists to make albums independently – i.e., paying to do it themselves. And becoming even poorer in the process. Sometimes they’d make the money back and even turn a tidy profit, but often they’d end up working at Timmie’s to pay the studio bills.
But the indie scene has actually been around a heck of a lot longer than the Internet. I like to say, jokingly, or semi-jokingly, that at one time it used to be called the folk scene.
Folk pioneers
That’s where my musical roots are. My old band Stringband has been called a pioneer of the indie record scene. What that means is we just couldn’t get any label to sign us all those eons ago. Most of the majors in Canada then were US subsidiaries, aiming at the big US market, and they all told us we were too folky and too Canadian. So we started our own label.
A generous fan funded our first album, done on the cheap, but we wanted a bigger budget for the second. So we borrowed an idea that was floating around: we asked fans to send us $5 up front (yeah, I’m talking the good old days; the horseless carriage had barely been invented), and we’d use the funds to make the album and then mail them a copy.
It worked! We briefly considered running off to Mexico with all those five-dollar bills – it was February – but in the end recorded our next two albums that way. A few other folk acts were doing the same thing, then more followed suit, and that model has since become commonplace in the indie scene.
Back cover of Thanks to the Following, 1975commonplace in the indie music scene.
Crowd pleaser
Now they call it crowdsourcing; we just called it asking fans to help. In fact, for our third album, I got the bright idea to title it Thanks to the Following, and we printed all the supporters’ names in tiny font starting on the front cover and almost completely covering the back.
If you decide to go this route, there are websites that can help you, such as http://www.kickstarter.com/, http://www.gofundme.com/ and others. Or you can do what I and many musicians do: contact your mailing list, and tell the fans you’re making a new CD.
Full support
Create multiple levels of support – e.g., see my fundraising pitch – and offer various perks. For example, my “entry” level is $20 to pre-order one CD; my top two levels include, among other goodies, an honorary producer credit on any song of the patron’s choice.
So “honorary producer” may not be quite like twiddling the controls at the recording console (more likely a computer these days) or telling the drummer to go easy on the high hat, but several devoted fans have chosen to support me this way, and I know many other artists with “angels” who have happily contributed to their recording projects. As the wise woman said, “You won’t know if you don’t ask.”
And – oh yeah — dear fans awaiting the new CDs, please be patient. I’m crowdsourcing as fast as I can!
11Sep
Music & Horses
Music Biz
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Sometimes, as a musician, your music life spills over into other areas of your life – and vice versa. Lately, for me, that’s happening in a big way: my music and my passion for horses are trotting along together in tandem.
And no, I haven’t run off to join the Mounties and their Musical Ride. But for the last year I’ve been writing some horse-themed songs – enough, in fact, that along with five I’ve already recorded, I’ll soon be able to release an all-horse song CD.
A special barn concert
Not only that, on Saturday September 17, I’ll be playing my very first-ever BARN concert. That’s right, I’ll be playing some of those horse songs, and others, at a fundraising event at the stable where I ride in Whitchurch-Stouffville. (A while back in my Yorkscene blog I wrote about house concerts – concerts that take place in someone’s home. Well, this is a spin on that concept!)
The stable is a special place, called Horses of Course, which accommodates riders with a range of disabilities as well as able-bodied riders. One of them, Krystianna L., was a plucky little girl diagnosed with neuroblastoma when she was very small. Krystianna spent huge amounts of time at Sick Kids’ Hospital, but whenever she was well enough, she’d take riding lessons at Horses of Course. Her favourite horse was a little chestnut Quarter Horse mare named Meg.
Sadly, Krystianna died in 2009 at the age of 13 – but not before the folks at the barn put Meg on a trailer and took her to Sick Kids so Krystianna could see her one more time just days before she died.
Canter for a Cure
So this Saturday her friends and family are organizing a day called Krystianna’s Canter for a Cure, full of horsey demonstrations, and activities to raise money for neuroblastoma research, and also for a bursary for young riders with disabilities who need financial help with riding lessons. And that’s why I’ll be singing my horse songs there. If you’re a horse lover AND a music lover, then this is the event for you. Not to mention you’ll be supporting two worthy causes.
It’s a benefit!
And that’s something we musicians do a lot of: I don’t know a single musician who hasn’t played benefits and fundraisers, and we’re always happy to do it, because we rarely have much money in our pockets to donate, but we can usually find the time to sing for a great cause. In fact I’ve played so many I’ve even written a tongue-in-cheek song called “Not Another Benefit.”
But as well as singing about chestnut mares, naughty ponies, and other equines, I’ll be more than happy to play that song this Saturday with the sound of horses nickering around me.
12Jul
Writing Beyond My Means
(Originally posted June 11, 2011 at Yorkscene.com)
Some people live beyond their means. I write beyond my means. What I’m saying is that I write songs that are sometimes too complicated for me to easily perform.
I recently went into the studio with a really accomplished pianist, Marilyn Lerner. She was my first-ever piano player, just a kid fresh out of music school, but who’d been taking piano lessons since she was tiny. She moved on into jazz and improvisational music and new music, but her playing is always full of heart and emotion. (Listen at http://www.marilynlerner.com)
But me, well, I’m not a schooled musician. I had three years of violin as a kid, which I begged for, because my parents were both tone deaf and music wasn’t a big deal in our home. And that was it for my formal musical education.
In my early 20s, having learned some chords on guitar, I ended up in a folky band called Stringband (http://is.gd/YKqX0M). A few years later I took a summer course at the Royal Conservatory for grades 1 & 2 theory – I figured it might improve my songwriting. But in the band we mostly worked things out by ear, and all that theory ended up out the window. So a few years later I took some piano lessons. I wrote some pretty cool songs on the piano, but I couldn’t really play the thing because I’m about as coordinated as a jellyfish.
Now for me, it’s all about the lyrics, and I often write complex songs with irregular structures and throw in extra bars and odd chords — whatever the words and story dictate. But then when it comes time to perform them, well, I can’t count beats worth a damn, especially while I’m singing.
So recording with someone like Marilyn who can sight read and who’s got a chart (written out by my producer, definitely not by this musical illiterate!), while I have only a lyric sheet with little chicken tracks in pen on it, the tracks representing the number of beats between lines or places where the words are actually a pickup, or need to be stressed – well, it can get embarrassing when I screw up. Which I did fairly often the night we recorded together, in part because the song is also very new, so it’s not burned into my brain yet.
So that’s what I mean by writing beyond my means. The only thing that saves me is that Marilyn and other schooled musicians I’ve worked with really like those complicated, quirky songs of mine, and seem to find the patience to deal with my musical ignorance.
And for that, like others who live beyond their means, I owe them a huge debt!
