Thank You For The Music

I’ve been singing since I was a wee little thing – writing songs to exorcise my own personal demons (whether they be in the form of relationship struggles, deep rooted trauma or just the everyday stuff that gets everyone’s goat). See, I’m a sensitive soul and I think too much. Singing became an instinctive way for me to release a lot of negativity and confusion enabling me to carry on with life as (almost) normal.

Opening up to people was difficult. I kinda slid into the role of the listener, the protector and the one who cares. I'm not sure how – it just felt like a comfy woolly jumper so I didn’t question it. When you care too much about the people around you it is difficult not to fear burdening them with your own issues. I guess I underestimated a lot of my family and friends. I wasn’t sure how they would bear up if I did come clean. Reversing the situation became unthinkable and so I just got on with it - stuffing my reality down so far that I wasn’t really sure if it existed any more.

When I sang I found that words poured out, along with the melodies. I just wrote them down in a notebook and the tunes stuck in my head. That was a test of it – if, when I next came to look at my notes, the song eluded me then it wasn’t quite right. My own version of natural selection (born out of necessity as I couldn’t pen the tunes themselves).

Often I didn’t really know what each song was about. Not at first, anyway. Maybe a few months later I’d be looking at the words and go ‘oh yeah’ and it’d hit home. Some were just too painful to think about, these stayed unsung until I could face them without falling apart.

Not all of my lyrics are negative though. A few do have a positive slant on them (even if it’s only me that sees it). Honest.

Later I got into attempting poetry (starting out as lyrics without music, but then becoming self sufficient). My friend Wai is probably to blame for this (she is a great and unconventional poet herself, in my opinion). She can also take the rap for my growing love of buying books. And, while I’m thinking about it, for introducing me to the joys of retail therapy and the ‘Shirehorses’ (shame on you). Not that it’s a bad thing.

The writing and the artwork came later – maybe as things got more pear shaped I needed more ways to express my inner hopes and fears.

As things stand now, I love each of my ‘creations’ uniquely. They are testament to different parts of my life - the positive as well as the negative. Now I’m a lot better at talking about the ‘real’ me (and the real me isn’t so tortured as a result) but the songs stay. Think of the dodgy, but slightly addictive, american cop shows i used to watch - My songs are my partner, they are always there for me watching my back. They are both the cavalry and my close confidant.

I don’t think it’s a bad thing to say that I’m also a little proud of them. See, my self-esteem must be on the up.

Rachel Waddingham © 2002