It’s great when someone says they like your music – even some half-cut audience member stumbling up after a gig. I know one should be immune to flattery, as to criticism, but who can honestly say they are?

A back-handed compliment I got the other night at a club was, ‘I like your songs mate. They sound as if they’ve been written by a real musician.’ Immediately realising his gaffe he quickly continued, ‘Not that you aren’t a real musician of course.’ The man went on to say he groaned inwardly when singers announced they’d written their own material as it was often self-obsessed drivel (or words to that effect).

However, it’s true that most singer-songwriter’s material is confessional – usually lamenting lost love. Of course, some of the best songs are in this category but saved by a great melody, lyrics or performance, so I’m not saying one’s own problems and heartaches can’t be worthy subjects. Dylan’s best song (in my opinion) includes the line:

‘Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously…

(Visions of Johanna from Blonde on Blonde – 1966)

Is he actually confessing his own problem here? Taking himself too seriously? Most of his songs seem to do just this – except they’re often still great songs because he’s able to step aside and be self-aware (and often amusing). Many songwriters can’t be so detached (or clever) and seem to think their emotional hang-ups must inevitably be of interest to others. Hence their favourite and most over-used word – ‘I’.

Seems I was aware of this problem however, even years ago when I began writing songs. Here’s an extract from a number called Turkish Delight written around 1968.

Confessions of a lonely soul – I’ve heard that song before.

I’ve heard that song so many times before.

Retribution for a broken heart – and maybe true,

But honest words can put a man to sleep,

So wake me when you wake me, if you do.

Unfortunately, though I still recall the tune, I forget the chords and key, etc. But probably just as well as it wasn’t that great a song. Looking back over my song writing output (of thousands – mostly junk) I see that confessional love was the main preoccupation when I was young but has mercifully tailed off in recent years. Apart from anything else, I now find other people’s lives far more interesting subjects than my own.

I caught Mike, also called Passenger (from the band he once fronted), on Jools Holland’s TV show, Later,  just before we went to China and was intrigued enough by his simple singer-songwriter style and unusual voice to check him out further. On the plane his latest album, All The Little Lights, was featured so I wiled away most of the long-haul flight listening to it. There aren’t many albums, even among my favourites, that I can repeat play more than a couple of times but with Passenger’s latest release I made a big exception – both ways, Newcastle to Shanghai and Beijing back home. I’m still playing the copy I purchased from Amazon (I wanted the original plastic, not just a download) in the car and keep finding new delights and really can’t name a weak or bum track.

The tunes and arrangements are quite light and poppy but the lyrics are clever yet honest (as far as I know), witty, down to earth and sometimes profound or mystical. There’s also a deeply sad edge to many songs: the title track for example says we are born with thousands of little lights inside us that shine in the dark to show us the way but that in the end they, ‘…all burn out one day.’ The hit song, Let Her Go (topping the charts in many countries) is also pessimistic saying, ‘dreams come slow but go so fast’ and in the end you…’only know love when you let her go – and you let her go.’ Like so many singer-songwriter’s lyrics it could sound maudlin and self-pitying but is strangely uplifting. A great song on a great album.

The photo, incidentally, shows our man busking which he still does, apparently, despite selling out all venues on tours. He mentions this fact in an Australian TV interview (the country he had his first success in despite coming from Brighton, England

Yes we went to many lovely places in China – parks, gardens, historic buildings, majestic urban and country landscapes – but walking around town at night I couldn’t help noticing most young women were into the latest fashions of high heels and short skirts just as anywhere in the West (or elsewhere it seems). I’m not complaining but, as an old fogey, can’t help wondering about practicalities, especially after a few drinks. Memorably, for instance, I recall late one New Year’s Eve a few years ago in Newcastle where Sofie and I had attended firework celebrations and when a real Northern snow storm erupted. Within minutes the streets were thick and deep with snow causing everyone to pull coats, hats and scarves up around themselves. Then a cab stopped across the road and a girl in stacked heels, skimpy skirt and miniscule halter top emerged as if out clubbing in Tenerife or Malaga and tottered uncertainly off into the Polar night. Did she ever make base camp we wondered?

Any night, especially at weekends, the Toon is crammed with similarly clad girls, winter or summer, as indeed are most town centres across this land. For some reason I didn’t expect the same in Chinese cities – though it must be said we didn’t notice any drunkenness from men or women, though that didn’t seem to stop anyone enjoying themselves.

I did attempt to write serious lyrical verse whilst in the Orient but, I’m afraid, this was the best I could come up with:

HIGH HEELS AND SHORT SKIRTS 

C       High heels and short skirts – not much else besides,

.        Wherever you may go today – seems like its world wide

.         High heels and short skirts – not much else besides,

.         International ladies wear – not much left to hide.

.         High, high, high, high, heels – not much else besides.

From New York, London and Paris – Rio to Beijing,

Hear them footsteps clatter – watch those bodies swing.

They say it’s only fashion – just another style,

But don’t tell me those girls don’t know,

What makes the boys all smile?

Oh the weather may be chilly but that won’t keep them away,

Tottering along the pavement, whatever granny may say.

Like moths they are attracted to any neon light,

And when the music’s playing, it’s always Saturday night.

They sure ain’t built for hiking more than a muddy yard,

And falling off those platforms, you come down mighty hard.

Winding up in casualty after a drink or two.

Doctor, please! Oh doctor! Don’t take away my shoe!

Some of them are skinny, some curvy but never fat,

Some ought to be arrested, for going out like that.

But if you ask security to go and throw them out,

They’ll say you must be joking – it’s what we’re all about.

The make-up and the hair-do may take half a day,

While blokes are into serious boozing the night away.

But if you were to ask them each and every one,

No matter where you go now – girls just wanna have fun.

MB © 2013

Just returned from holiday in China. Sofie and I went all over the place to all the usual places – including the Terracotta Warriors, Panda Centre, The Great Wall, Emperor’s Summer Palace and the Li River. Being such a huge country we needed to take several internal flights as well as a bullet train ride and river cruise. Much to my surprise everything went according to plan – no late planes and all arrangements excellent (except our last hotel, the Novotel, in Beijing where our room had a damp carpet (?) and Sofie insisted we change rooms.

My main impression was how big everything was, from the wide boulevards of the cities and towering buildings, to the awe-inspiring scenery, parks and gardens, etc. Also, despite some poverty down a few alleyways, the overall impression was of much economic growth and personal wealth. For example, although there are still many scooters, bikes and mopeds in Beijing the streets are clogged day and night with expensive cars. The main shopping streets rival anywhere in the world with international brands, swanky hotels and restaurants and much amazing architecture. The people, generally speaking, are cheerful and helpful. I was expecting beggars and pickpockets (we’d been warned) but found very few of the former and none of the latter. We weren’t ripped off, as far as I’m aware, although hawkers did try flogging us stuff in tourist places like the Terracotta Warriors site. We were accompanied everywhere (mostly) by guides arranged by the travel agent and they were all polite and charming, well informed and often invaluable in smoothing arrangements for us. On the other hand we were not prevented from going anywhere alone and often went wandering in the cities.

All in all it truly was the holiday of a lifetime and both of us would love to return, sooner rather than later, as we’re acutely aware of only scratching the surface of China.