Reflections

Celibate Solitude

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Celibate solitude. It’s the only way. Splendid ice-olation. (I won’t go astray) here in my cave with a pen in my hand. For ages I’ve lived like a crab in the sand. Hermit-hearted. Eagle-eyed. Misunderstood. Hurts inside. At least no one listens each time I cry…

Expecting Musicians to play for Free?

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There are far too many venue owners who expect musicians to play for just a meal and some drinks. That is disrespectful and exploitative. If they asked someone to come to their place and build a wall or mend some pipes they would have no problem paying the going rate. They wouldn’t dream of saying “Here’s your lunch; that makes us even”. A lot of work goes into a music performance. That work is worthy of remuneration.

The Pen

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The Pen is always mightier than the sword

© Alan Morrison, 2010

Troubadours

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I’ve been reading about the Troubadour movements of the 12th/13th centuries. That’s what we need today. Lots of troubadours. Everywhere. Lovers of language who are not afraid to be outspoken and who know how precious it is to preserve the depth of words in song (or we’ll become like the manipulated “NewSpeak” society of Orwell’s “1984”). The pen – as a world-changing weapon – is infinitely mightier than the sword!

To Ride my Songs is to Know my Heart

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(Alan’s essay for the enclosure in the CD “Ride my Heart”)

Continue reading…

Poem from Rilke (1875-1926)

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“No one lives his life. Disguised since childhood, haphazardly assembled from voices and
fears and little pleasures, we come of age as masks. Our true face never speaks. Somewhere there must be storehouses where all these lives are laid away like suits of armor or old carriages or clothes hanging limply on the walls. Maybe all paths lead there, to the repository of unlived things.”

The Gift of Art

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If we never use the gift of our art to change the world [or its people] then our art will become shallower rather than deeper. If we, as artists, never change then our art will tarnish rather than shine. We are change agents who must change with time. We are avatars who live on the edge of the envelope which others want to push in their dreams. We are dreamweavers of the avant-garde casting our thread wide and far…