I pull a box out of the garage. Rummage through. Funny what you find. A whole stack of papers – mainly old songs. Written in biro. Mostly on the backs of old forgotten documents, but some on the back of actual university essays.
Personal history in its rawest form. A wipe of the hand through layers of dust and dried spiders uncovers moments of true beauty… along with utter stupidity. I’m talking about old songs that I have no memory of writing. Hundreds of words that must have meant something once – but now just languish in never to be heard purgatory. Reading a few of the lyrics immediately brings back whole melodies, drum beats, hell even feelings! However, most of the other lyrics only offer proof as to why the songs were packed into a box. Separated from whatever music was originally attached to them, the words read like pretentious twaddle – backing up the reasons I must have had to consign them to my past in the first place.
You have to understand though. These songs could have existed. A simple twist of fate – say a more successful previous band – and these songs could have ‘been’. They could have been ‘press play’able. But instead… due to what can only be described as failure, the songs gather dust. Some of the songs had been played live. Some recorded. Some are even available to be heard on this very site (under the history section). But the majority never existed. They remain just words on a page. I no longer have any memory of the melodies. No clue as to the drum beats, the bass lines, the guitar chords. All I have is the words. Some good – some bad But all were written for a reason. Once. A long time ago. Today – to be brushed off and read again.
The problem now is I have to find somewhere to put these little gems. For if the world ever decides to embrace Confession of the Whole School then these tarnished pieces of paper will be valuable. My plan of action is to carefully put them all in a box… and put the box in the garage. It’ll be safe there. Yes… and so it shall be done.