Interview with DJ Donald Strachan on Wasp Radio
What a strange time we find ourselves in. I really haven’t felt like making any music with all this death and disaster going on. Lost 3 hard-won gigs and 1 close family member. When music is your pleasure , and your escape, this is a demoralising time. Writing dark songs about death, doesn’t appeal for once, it’s a “be careful what you wish for” situation.
I admire the bedroom guitarists who have leapt to fill the void with solo videos. I really miss my various bandmates, for me music is all about human interaction – reacting and riding on the vibe of the audience, making a 2way connection. You can’t do that with solo videos.
However, week 7 of lockdown, after attending a Zoom course on setting goals, I convinced myself to at least get my guitar out. We have to push through our comfort zones, to reach our goals.
I know my self-pity is petty in the grand scheme of things, but people ask me ‘why don’t I do this, why don’t I do that’. My first thoughts were sorting out my dispersed family, and trying to hang onto my photography work that brings me income that music doesn’t. Like many, I have days when I am tearing my hair out over the government’s slow reaction, over people flouting social distancing, I have fear for the future. We’ve just got to make small steps towards this new future. My little video below is a baby step towards my life returning to some normality.
Hang on in there everyone x
A new guitar is as exciting as a new baby, or a new lover, but with none of the mess.
When I was 17 I walked past the window of the only Music Shop in Ipswich and fell in love with a pink paisley Fender Telecaster guitar. I begged and begged my dad to buy it for my 18th birthday. Friends were getting practical presents like cars, tractors, horses, holidays and bikes (this was pre-computers). Only today my 82yr old mum was telling me how my dad didn’t want me to have a guitar – he was finally swayed by a stranger he chatted to on a train who was extolling the benefits of music for youngsters. I wish I could thank that man, because if it wasn’t for him I might be doing embroidery in my evenings now instead of rock. When I got that guitar home, I mainly stroked it, I had no idea where to put my hands. I have a video of me “trying on” a bandmate’s guitar when I was about 16, and I slung it over one shoulder like a handbag, no clue. When I went off to Uni, my family emigrated but the pink curvy Telecaster came with me and we remain very very close. I often sleep with my guitars.
Last week I got very excited about a particular 2nd hand Jaguar Bass I was going to buy, I told all my local muso friends about it. When I was about to collect it, the seller contacted me and told me I’d been gazumped. It was fishy. I was gutted, I’d been after this ‘discontinued” rarity for 2yrs. The next day I saw a really silly transparent yellow guitar for sale , and I was feeling “on-the-rebound”, so I went out today and bought it. Some things are meant to be.
A trip into deepest darkest Kent had me winding up what felt like a mountainside to a small estate of houses. A nice man greeted me, he had a huge tropical fish tank, a swimming pool and a wealth of beautiful guitars, he let me touch some of them. It was like a muso’s equivalent of the Playboy Mansion. The transparent guitar was still dusty from his attic. I knew it was going to be heavy, the Lucite material it is made of is nothing like the acrylic of today. He joked that you could probably kill someone with one blow of it, which felt like a good USP. It’s not a practical or particularly comfortable guitar, but nor is say, a pair of posh stilettos costing the same price. I usually haggle and drive a hard bargain (a market trader once likened me to Maggie Thatcher) but the seller was so nice I handed over my cash and put Mr. Lemony Snickets in the boot. (Probably a bit weird if I start naming my guitars). Also, guitars don’t give you bunions. If all else fails, it will look good on the wall.
It’s so fascinating to be able to peer into the body of a transparent guitar. I mentioned in a previous blogpost how I took my dad’s radio apart (to his horror) when I was a toddler just to “see what was inside”. One day I’d love to be able to build a guitar, I built a camera last week (not working perfectly yet!) and I made a lyre once with one daughter, and panpipes (from plastic tubes) with the other. I have a crazy idea for a guitar design in my head,… one day perhaps…
So now I have my transparent Wesley guitar home, I’ve been polishing it and staring at my cat through it, I’ve been shining light through it and thinking about fitting it with UV lights! It sounds pretty good for something that looks like a toy and feels like a tank. Every new instrument I handle is the start of a new song. I still don’t know where songs come from, not from inside the guitar, surely, but somehow they must. Your fingers just do the walking.
P.S. Come and see us play at the Birds Nest, Deptford this Friday 25th August 7.30pm, you’ll be safe because I’ll be on bass.
This is a picture of me today attempting to walk on water in the North Sea at Whitstable. Silly, I know, (I found a thin sandbar) but the sea fills me with magic. In a previous life I must have been a Mermaid or a Sea Witch, possibly an actual fish. I’m a Pisces, and like all water signs (are you one?) the sea pulls me like a magnet, I am literally ‘in my element’ here. It’s a great place for creative inspiration and self-reflection. Staring out at that infinite mass of blue puts your own petty problems into perspective. We miss out on this living amongst the stifling high-rise buildings in London where it’s hard to see ‘the wood for the trees’. Who hasn’t gazed out to sea and thought existentialist thoughts?
“Why do you think old people live at the seaside?” I ask my daughter. (My elderly relatives live in Felixstowe on the East Coast). Is it for the clean air, for health and longevity? For the relaxed pace of life? We see a dead seagull get cleansed by the waves, a dead crab becomes sand eventually. Death and regeneration go hand-in-hand here.
And let us not forget the immense power of the sea. I’m looking out now at the wind turbines in the ocean off Whitstable, these beauties could save us from self-destruction with fossil fuels. I recall crossing the ocean to Belgium and Holland with my dad when I was little (he was a sailor), the big waves crashing over the deck, and me throwing-up over the side, it felt so dangerous. In my twenties I ran into difficulty swimming during a boat-trip in Turkey, I had no snorkel or flippers like everyone else, they were all facedown looking at the pretty fish, a riptide swept me away and I swallowed so much water, I thought I was going to drown. I let out the biggest scream I ever have made and then my lungs filled with water, luckily someone on a boat heard me. The images of refugees being drowned at sea were uppermost in my mind when I started writing “Like The English Sea” a year ago.
“Spare me, my dignity, as your spirit crashes over me” – lyric
It’s my favourite song on the EP. It’s unusual for me to write a song about a place, (can you think of rock songs about the sea?) I’m using the sea as a simile for powerful emotions, which are like unstoppable natural forces. The guitar riff in the choruses sounds watery to me, like the waves. There are heavy shouty sections, like those sudden storms that come out of nowhere and batter you. It’s the only song from the CD “Breakables” that we have not yet added to the live set, I’ve been saving it until last. I’ll post the lyrics next time. I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences of the sea if you care to leave a comment in the box below:
When I was a toddler I got into big trouble for taking my dad’s radio apart. I remember wanting desperately to find out where the music came from. I was also fascinated with my primary school teacher’s big beige cassette player. I sang lyrics over my clockwork jewellery box for hours while the ballerina span around. I pleaded for a Stylophone when I was 12, and later I had a Yamaha ‘toy’ synth that I could strap-on like a guitar. That synth taught me everything I know about modelling sound. I painted the keys with luminous nail varnish. When I was 15, I joined a very early SynthRock band called Domino Effect in Ipswich.
If I’d have been a boy I probably would have left school and worked for the local BT Engineering Centre, which was the biggest employer (behind farming) in the area. But my relationship with technology has been a precarious one. Growing up on a smallholding in the countryside, the radio I had under my pillow became my connection to another world. John Peel’s local radio shows introduced to me to Gary Numan’s records which I played relentlessly on my dad’s turntable looking out at the barren fields. What Numan was doing with synths was revolutionary, it was magical and has enchanted me from childhood to the present day.
In the digital age, we are using more “soft synths” than ever, you don’t need all those racks of knobs anymore when you can synthesize sounds using a computer program. Well, that’s the theory. Personally I hate gear like digital Amp Modellers that claim to replicate the sound of a physical guitar amp with exactitude. Blindfold me and I can tell the difference. When I recorded the EP “Breakables” I picked a studio that had a very rare 80’s Synclavier Synth – it was like a dream come true for me to use it, the sounds were rich beyond belief. Like velvet to my ears. I previewed several string sounds on it, and plumped for one which turned out to be a sample from the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.
Last week I was lucky to see an artist called “Look Mum No Computer” perform in the back of a warehouse gallery in South London. This guy builds his own synths.
The towering machine he wheeled into the freezing cold backroom was incredible. His songs sounded amazing too. Live drum pads, distorted vocals, and god knows what else, combined with projections. I think the Futurists would have loved this. I was really pleased to see it, so many bands are going down the LAPTOP route these days which is no fun to watch, and I’m not sure I would even call it “music”.
2yrs ago, as an experiment, I made a song called “Awkward Time” entirely on my computer, it was aired on the radio but I was never 100% happy with it. It’s an indulgent song that came straight out of my subconscious after playing with an electronic drumbeat. The drumbeat came to me in my
sleep (probably after practising paradiddles repeatedly for a drum exam). The song has that ‘detachment’ that you get in a lot of electronic music. It made me realise just how much passion you tap into when you put a physical instrument like a guitar into your actual hands. I think I’ll sharpen the song up, and release it on Soundcloud this year.
Steve, Paul and Tiffany have stepped up to the mark recently to play synths at our live gigs. There will more of that this year. It’s a bit of a conundrum being a grungy guitar band with synths, sometimes promoters don’t like it… but we do what we do.
I went to see an Electronic Music night at the Tate Modern this week, part of the “Ten Days, Six Nights” event. I had high expectations, but the performances were dull and pretentious. Lorenzo Senni sat at a laptop with his hands in his lap, playing unremarkable pre-recorded dance music, in a huge room lit with static light. There are Night Clubs with more interesting music and lighting within a few minutes walk of here. I couldn’t help but feel this was an attempt to make the Tate into some late-opening nightspot with extortionate bar prices for hipster Rhubarb Soda and broccoli stems. In another space, Isabel Lewis had plants
suspended from the ceiling, and performers walking amongst the audience doing some low-key wailing, and slo-mo dance. It was a bit like B&Q on a Tuesday morning. But seriously, looking at the Tate’s program of events, there were no British Musicians there, it is a shame that this huge institution (part-funded by our taxes) is so out of touch with the really amazing stuff happening at grass roots level in this country. The underground scene cannot be beaten for creativity, and long may it exist.
1. Don’t Be A Slave To Technology
When your Mac dies and loses everything, it’s not the end of the World. When your phone dies, no-one has died. When your memory card gets corrupted and loses all your photos, it’s just bytes, not real memories. When it happened to me recently I was distraught. We are 1 step away from having devices implanted in our bodies for convenience. The next evolution of Man might be half-robot, a ManMachine Era, one that can survive the wars and environmental damage we inflict. Apple want to imprison my songs and photos and make me pay for access. Step away from the matrix!
2. Buy No Leather
Nothing beats the feel of real leather – but this year I go faux.
3. Listen To Black Sabbath
A band that passed me by! I keep catching snippets in cafes etc and asking “What is that you’re playing?”.
4. Don’t Mourn Dead Stars, Make New Ones
Back in the day, when music wasn’t pumped out of sausage factories, we had rock stars. They are all dying off now, all at once. For every gig I play, I go to see at least one other, the stars are out there, give them your light.
5. Beware The News
All News these days relies on clicks. The more clicks, the more ad revenue. Only the sensationalist stories make it through the quagmire. Don’t be fooled – there are no regulators checking that anything is “true”. If they can get people arguing, or sharing, or filling in a Petition then they have succeeded $$$$. I’ve blocked all News Sites. You cannot trust photographic or video evidence, it’s easily fabricated. I used to make TV for a living, so I know.
6. Don’t Be a Dick
- Don’t fire off emails before coffee
- Wait 12hrs before making any rants as could be PMT
7. Healing the Divide
Brexit/Trump split my friends and family into 2 warring camps. We are going to be polarised more and more in the coming years, over topics we don’t even know about yet. I will strive to make people respect the views of others, and to see all sides of any debate. Peace and understanding; our future depends on them.
8. Watch For Signs
When my dumb Pisces brain doesn’t know which way to swim, there is usually some obvious “sign” or omen that comes along and guides me. An expert once told me that my spirit guides are unusually close to me. Who knows.
9. Create, Create, Create
Let it all out before it consumes me. Oh, and I must practise the guitar more, it’s never too late!