Recently, I’ve taken to writing songs in a field. There, well away from human habitation, I’m lucky enough to have an old gypsy caravan (or, to be less romantic and more accurate, an old road-workers’ wagon). It is not the last word in comfort but, vibe-wise, it can’t be beaten.
It’s isolated. When I work in the house, there is always the sense that, beyond a wall, there might someone =- perhaps an innocent passer-by, wincing as a gurgle and warble and curse and thrash my guitar. Even Ruby the dog, once photographed duetting with me on the van, has recently decided that keeping me company is too great a test of her loyalty.
In a fit of egotism, I took a camera to my new workplace last week and filmed myself singing a couple of songs. Even when you finish a song, it never quite there until it has been performed and this form of musical selfie seemed a good halfway stage.
I found that I enjoyed singing songs in a little caravan in the middle of a field, and I have decided to share the experience online.
The first Song From a Van is a new one, inspired by the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love. What has happened to the Beautiful People five decades on? That’s the question addressed by ‘Still Searching For That Heart of Gold’. There are, I think, eight mini-quotes in this song. Who can spot them?
