6th February 2012

With a new publishing deal adding incentive, I’ve been using these first few weeks of the year to write and record some new songs. Jessica has just added a lovely lead vocal and sax part to a couple of rock ballads that needed stronger vocals and a spark of young blood to enliven them. It’s a great credit to her talent that she sang them in my soprano keys, several tones higher than she would have chosen. I’ve heard her on her own songs and also belting out Queen classics in the original keys too, so I know very well her vocal range and power.

My poor Mac has caught a winter chill and so we (the Mac and I) are enjoying an enforced weekend rest by the fire in the sitting room. So, since recording is not an option, I’m turning my mind to the more organic aspects of music, sitting with my guitar and writing some lyrics. I’m also using the time to de-stress after a rather heavy past year, so it’s high time I got back to some meditation.

I believe that meditation is the best method for relieving stress. Red wine comes a close second, but the effects are not lasting, unless followed by more of the same, and that has its disadvantages. Like many of you, I’ve dabbled in various techniques for stilling the mind and taming the wild horses that regularly stampede through my head, but all life-enhancing pursuits need a certain level of commitment, so there comes a time when one just has to get on with it. So here I go again…

Advised by seasoned meditators to avoid any expectations, I fully expect to be enlightened by Easter. Having chosen the simplest of all methods, I am perched on a cushion at the very edge of the sofa, thereby straightening the spine, with a mound of cushions to prop me up. Wary of getting permanently stuck in Full Lotus position, which might prove embarrassing when the neighbours eventually missed me and came in search of the body, I strike a simple pose.

To begin. Follow the breathing, counting each breath. In… one. Out… two. Count up to ten and repeat, keeping the attention on the breath. What could be simpler? Not too long for the first session, though – I’ll just give it fifteen minutes. Ready. Breathe in. Good grief, this cushion’s lumpy. I replace it with a softer one and start again. Breathe in. One. It’s a bit nippy in here. I’ll just grab a blanket. Start again, paying attention to the breath. One. Should I have my eyes open or closed? Shall I clasp my fingers or place the hands on the knees? Does it matter? It’s more comfy if I cross my ankles but… oh, shut up! Bringing the attention gently back to the breath… One. My nose is itching and so is my left ankle but I will resist. Two. I am master of my body and I resolutely hold out for a full six seconds before succumbing to a blissful scratch. It’s all going very well, don’t you think?

Contrary to expectations I was not meant to have, my first session has been unexpectedly active. During these few minutes, and with increasing exasperation, I have rearranged the cushions several times, scratched various itches, clasped, unclasped, re-clasped my hands. I have experimented with eyes open, causing streaming tears and eyes closed, when I dozed off. Eyes half-open - more tears. Eyes crossed. Is blinking allowed? Is swearing aloud?

Meanwhile, I have drafted three business letters, amended some lyrics to a new song, planned a little holiday, organised my wardrobe, packed my suitcase and sent myself an early memo: “must not forget passport”.

So as to remain undistracted by the occasional stray thought, I also mistakenly tried repeating that memorable line, 'I must think of a brick wall,' which inevitably led to a fast- forward viewing of “The Village of the Damned” in its entirety, following which I reflected upon the sad demise of George Sanders, both in the film and in real life.

As to the state of my mind, these fifteen minutes have indeed been enlightening. I emerge from the dark recesses of my mind having achieved the full realization that counting to ten is utterly IMPOSSIBLE.

Yours, in pieces…

Mary

9th January 2012

Lying in bed, watching the perfect stillness of the garden in the morning light, I look for signs of last night’s storm but not a single leaf stirs. Admittedly, there is not a single leaf left to stir on the lovely old oak but on all the evergreens below, the foliage is utterly, silently still. It seems that the howling winds of the night, now spent and breathless, haven’t the strength in them to disturb this lovely morning.

If the outward world is a reflection of the inward state of mind then certainly the past night has been a true manifestation of mine. Turbulent thoughts and dreams may stir us up to a frenzy and yet, all in a moment, the storm has passed and mental turmoil gives way to a feeling of peace and security. Those of us who haven’t yet had the sense to work on our unruly states of mind are doomed to remain at the mercy of the whims of weather and emotion - ruffled and torn, pulled this way and that, ever grateful to be soothed with a balm of intermittent sunshine or to feel a momentary sense of peace.

I remember my brief experience of T’ai Chi where we were taught to yield and use the physical strength of an opponent to advantage, deflecting the force of his attack with the slightest touch and a simple side-step. This yielding, both physical and mental, can be used to great effect and may be far more powerful than brute force or mental resistance. The sturdy trunk of the oak, however rigid its wide girth may seem, can be seen to sway in gale force winds, where an unyielding post or fence might snap or fall. In the same way, most problems will be resolved more easily with gentle, thoughtful consideration rather than an aggressive approach.

If I make any single new year’s resolution, though the ghost of past failures wags a warning finger, it will be to be more flexible and tolerant. The very next time someone tries my patience with rudeness and stupidity, instead of rising to the bait I shall follow the example of the great masters, yielding graciously and showering them with love and compassion. (Are you buying this?)

No longer will I soak up other people’s negativity like a thirst-crazed sponge. I have more than enough of my own to overcome. I will have no more of this nonsense and shall become master of my mind and live in wisdom and peace for the rest of my days. Hah!

To tell the truth, I’ve been making this same resolution for many years now and, so far, I have failed to put into practice any of the good advice and teaching I’ve received. I suspect that this is an overly ambitious resolution and that perhaps I should be content with a more humble goal… such as getting through a single hour without swearing.

In the meantime, I shall endeavour to channel my vast store of frustrated anger and tension into making music and other creative projects. Perhaps this is why my poor fingertips are throbbing from gripping my guitar neck in a stranglehold, and possibly why my guide saxophone part sounds less syncopated than constipated.

Through the other window, overlooking the front garden, I check the little winter-flowering cherry I planted two years ago, a spindly and dainty tree that has just come into bloom. Amazingly, it has kept hold of its tiny pink blossom through the storm and stands quite still, unscathed and at peace.

In 2012, I plan to be…. a healthy, yielding, bloomin’ tree.

Happy New Year!

Mary

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1st December 2011

I am sitting in the kitchen sink. Well, my feet are in the sink while the rest of me is perched on the draining-board. Like Cassandra, in a favourite novel* of my teens, I am hoping that my unusual choice of seating will inspire me, or at the very least put things in perspective. It is refreshing to view my kitchen from up here, the raised eye-level allowing me to see these familiar, everyday items from a new, oblique angle. I wonder if this will alter my mental perception as well as my visual…

I had hoped that a fresh viewpoint would detach me from the scene, allowing the worktop clutter and the responsibility for clearing it to seem to belong to someone else. But no, the pile of crusted dishes and cutlery from a late lunch and a sudden urge to bake bread carry, as always, their insistent message, ‘Wash me’, along with silent threats of mould and shame if ignored for too long. Yes, it is still my clutter – I have created it and it belongs to me. While I can feel a subtle glow of pride as I see the warm dough rising in the bowl, it is overshadowed by a stab of guilt over the mound of paperwork that nags at me from the office and the unfinished songs whining for attention. I smother these thoughts by turning the page of my notepad and scribbling a sketch of the kitchen from my lofty perch. I am a great procrastinator.

So it is with music. Perhaps it is the consequence of a having inherited the family butterfly brain that flits from here to there and back again, but there always seem to be two or three songs on the go at once, never one at a time… as it always is with buses and men. See? I’ve already flitted.

A song’s beginning has all the promise of a new romance. It either fizzles out after the first few bars, or leads to a second date and the novelty and excitement of watching a story unfold. Maybe I’m fickle or shallow, or both, but once I’ve worked out where a song (or man, but not for some reason a bus) is going I’m ready to move on. Having two or three evolving projects on the go at one time seems to hold my interest for longer.

Some songs are strong-willed and give me grief, often insisting on a lyric or chord I really hate. I’ve been known to lock these away for years, giving them time to consider and repent, taking them out now and again to find that they haven’t. The weaker-willed songs, which let me push them around too easily, soon lose my respect and usually end up in the bin. I like a challenge but I also like to have my own way.

Sometimes, when a song gets stuck through no fault of its own, it helps to put it aside for a while or try to look at it from another angle.

So here I sit… and think… in the sink.

Mary

*I Capture the Castle. Dodie Smith.

28th October 2011

I am sitting on the floor of my guest-room, searching the floorboards for a lost pin. In a half-hearted attempt to hang some of the fifteen paintings I have just finished framing, my fumbling fingers (alliteration overload) have dropped the crucial pin, which is now no doubt firmly and permanently lodged between the boards. Writing my next blog seems a better option than prodding at years of impacted dust and mangled spiders so… time for a cuppa and a wedge of buttered bara brith. Abject apologies – it’s an accidental alliteration day.

Your response to our ‘You Look Familiar’ (Mary and Morgan) album has been most heartening. It’s good to know that the new music is being heard and approved of by those with extremely long memories, as well as more recent listeners. Any who have filled their baskets in our shopful of goodies are to be especially thanked – it is an encouraging and well-deserved reward for my lovely Jessica for all her endless work on my behalf. Her own album, ‘I Am Not’ is a credit to her extensive musical and songwriting skills and is also to be found here at the The HopShop. I promote our material on sale without a hint of embarrassment since a website is essentially a shop window where years of great effort, passion and love all poured into our music are on display.

Meanwhile, there have been questions as to the origin of the title of the ‘You Look Familiar’ album. Well, now… it came about in the strangest way…

On a rare, inclement Sunday in August, following the example of Miss Bingley and Miss Eliza Bennet, I was taking a turn about the guest-room, as is my wont in unfriendly weather. Since my guest-room would comfortably fit four times into the Netherfield drawing-room, I can easily manage quite a few turns in the space of five minutes. When my route became tiresome and the scenery monotonous, I increased my pace and altered my course.

As I strode across the floorboards, I brushed shoulders with a passer-by, and glancing over my shoulder I perceived a handsome young man who was also looking back at me. A spark of recognition passed between us and I realized it was my son, Morgan, who was visiting me for the weekend. By some coincidence, there we were in the same room at the very same time. How we laughed and delighted in this chance meeting. We agreed to meet later that day with Jessica at the tea-table in the sitting room, where we could converse over our sandwiches and cake and further discuss the peculiar events of the day.

… and that is how ‘You Look Familiar’ became the title of the album.

Stranger than fiction…

Mary

30th September 2011

How quickly autumn descends. Late September and I’m dodging falling acorns, slipping and sliding on beech nuts in a garden that is already strewn with golden oak and beech leaves. I love this glorious season. Unusually, some hellebores are in bloom three months early, perhaps anticipating another severe winter that has been forecast.

We have – I use the royal ‘We’ since Jessica, as usual, has done all the work - re-released the ‘Spirit’ album. It is the very last of the archive albums. Many of you have enquired about it and been unable to find it, so here it is in its original form - except for the vinyl version and cover artwork which we’ve replaced with a current self-portrait. Why? Because we can.

Much as I’d have liked to meddle, I haven’t been allowed to touch the recording itself. My daughter, in her wisdom, knows that once I’m given an inch (or two and a half centimetres which still sounds absurd to my ears) I’ll take a mile (1.60934 kilometres).

We were given only three weeks to complete the entire album, an unrealistic goal by any standards. Considering the fact that there are basically only two performers involved, I think we did well to finish it in time. This was due to the skills and incredibly hard work of a first-class recording team led by my dear friend, Benny (Gallagher), and the exceptional talent of Alan (Park), who arranged and played the keyboard parts.

The studio was set in the most idyllic rural location, and after a long day’s work a short stroll across the fields to the local pub for supper and a drink was our reward. Then back to the studio for several hours more…

Much of the stress of working around the clock was alleviated by frequent coffee breaks, gorging on heavenly, freshly-baked white bread oozing with butter and runny honey, and by spells of hilarious and smutty conversation - not from my lips, of course - though curiously, to this day, Benny dangles the threat of an ‘out-takes’ album over my head…

The only album track recorded separately was ‘Ave Maria’, beautifully arranged and played by Alan Clark of Dire Straits. We’ve featured this on YouTube with a slideshow that I’ve just completed of some of my recent photographs. You’ll see scenes of our lovely St Peter’s in Pontardawe (the steeple’s internal wooden structure was built by my great-grandfather) and Margam Steelworks at Port Talbot. I’ve always loved these views and I’m intrigued and enchanted by the contrasts and similarities between the structures – and the beauty in both.

So here you have it, a simple collection of favourite melodies from my childhood. 'Ave Maria' was the first classical piece I sang along with, aged three, sitting alone on the linoleum floor of an icy bathroom, playing it over and over again on my grandfather's wind-up gramophone. Notes from an odd place, indeed…

Mary

Watch Mary's video on Youtube

Preview and buy "Ave Maria" on iTunes

31st August 2011

In anticipation of the late August weather I am wearing an extra sweater and woolly hat. With a steaming mug of coffee I have installed myself in a corner of the garden sheltered from the icy gusts of wind which have already nipped at my fingertips and scattered my pages, making writing a challenge. It is indeed an odd place to choose on a day like this but I thought a few minutes in the fresh air would refresh and motivate me…

Many of you have asked about my current work, which I'm most happy to talk about. I find the present far more interesting than the past, especially now that I'm making music of my own choice. Apart from the Earth Song/Ocean Song album and, of course, ‘Those Were the Days’ of which I shall always be proud, there is little else amongst my early recordings that I would care to hear again.

Today, I either write alone or at various times with my son, Morgan, and my daughter, Jessica. If any of you work with your children then you’ll perhaps understand the satisfaction and tremendous fun of doing so. I have the additional pleasure of recording with them both in their respective studios – Morgan at Human and Jessica at Space. The only drawback I can think of is that Jess and I can rarely complete a vocal together at the mic without being reduced to hysterical fits of the giggles.

As some of you already know, Jessica also runs MHM entirely on her own - yes, honestly - and is responsible for all the album releases, including her own delightful self-penned debut album, ‘I Am Not’ (on her Space Records label). Christian (Thomas) who runs Space with Jessica is also an invaluable member of the recording team. He’s often in charge of recording my vocals so I treat him with the greatest respect and offerings of cake. Otherwise, he can be quite mischievous and inventive.

Morgan and I have also recently produced our first co-written album, ‘You Look Familiar’. It has been well received – thank you all – and has provoked many questions about song-writing and recording, so I hope here to answer some of them.

Morgan’s fine instrumental tracks are a great inspiration to me and also quite a challenge as they need no enhancement, and yet a song generally has a melody and lyrics so that’s where my contribution begins. Quite often, Morgan’s instrumental melodies will spark off a counter melody or he will leave quiet passages where I can be quite free with my notes and rhythm.

While munching on my breakfast muesli this morning I was thinking how most of us rush around aimlessly throughout our lives, looking for whatever we think will bring us happiness and fulfilment. This is the theme of ‘America’, the first song on the album. Morgan had only recently moved to New York when we began to write long-distance. When the lyrics of ‘America’ came to mind, I was thinking of his hard-earned success and wondering about the fate of other young people who search for fulfilment and lose their way. What a shame that whole lifetimes are often spent looking in the wrong direction, like a frustrating game of hide-and-seek or mysterious treasure hunt. Even when we’re getting warmer it still seems so hard to access our innate wisdom and peace which the wise ones tell us is omnipresent.

So where is this elusive treasure we spend our lives seeking? Right here, inside. Closer than muesli.

Soon…

Mary

Preview and buy "America" on iTunes

24th July 2011

Welcome to the happy home of MHM. Do come in, take a look around, have a cup of tea, hear some music, check out the shop…

You might wander into Space Studios, where you’ll find Jessica (my daughter) whose studio it is and Chris (her partner) at work. Chris will be at the control desk, recording, mixing, or editing sound and vision. Jessica may be at the mic, doing a vocal, laying down a guitar or keyboard part, writing a new song: or she may be in the office, at the computer, running MHM - single-handedly, as well as running Space with Chris. They both amaze me! I love working here.

Back in 2005, when we unearthed and released the archive albums, Jessica pointed out that, as I’d been living in relative seclusion (seeing only my relatives) for many years, if people were going to believe that I was still alive and making new music then I’d have to start making some noise or other.

Since the words ‘live performances’ are now crossed out in indelible ink on my ‘Things I Like to Do’ list, one of my other options was to start talking, other than just to my family. Jess suggested that I begin with short sentences to get me used to the idea of communicating with strange people. The ideal place for this novel activity was Twitter, so with a gentle push, though actually more of an arm-lock, she signed me up. At first I was painfully shy and quite timid about joining in conversations. Six months later, I now just barge in anywhere and have no qualms about exchanging utter drivel with seemingly intelligent people. What fun it is!

It seems that a lot of people thought I’d popped off years ago, and rumours of my alleged demise have been imaginative and amusing. Curiously, I appear to have died on more than one occasion (and not just that memorable time onstage in Adelaide). In one account, I married a Neanderthal, was dragged back to his cave and never seen again. An altogether more exciting report was of being fatally (or fatly!) sat upon by a Sumo wrestler whose mawashi (loincloth) was later sold on eBay.

Now that the myths have been dispelled, you can be assured that I’m alive – and kicking. By the way, I divorced the Neanderthal and I am currently dating the repentant Sumo wrestler, who now seems to be the gentlest of souls… I have put him on a very strict diet for good measure.

Until next time…

Mary, the living legend…

If you'd like to ask Mary to write about anything in particular, please get in touch on Twitter, Facebook or email.