Probably because they are spent now – the roar has been articulated, and now cannot be roared. Or maybe the song doesn’t want them.įor years, these words have sat silent and unused, never been sung. But when words do come, they don’t always want to be sung though. It is not only part of how how I make a living, but how I understand and place myself among others. It’s probably the reason I sing and the reason I need to sing to others. But filled with this bloody-minded push that is not ambition, but survival. No twitter posts, quippy sound bytes, or casual stage banter from me. Though in the music industry, fronting the Young Galaxy project and in the interests of maintaining whatever illusion or brand we have created, I shouldn’t paint a picture of the struggling artists, the self-doubting creators etc, I do often feel wordless. Survival for me, means creating disruptions in the field of play, evading patterns and comforts that could numb my perspective into unthinking or the riding of currents. I mean no harm but feel an innate imperative to keep moving, feed my appetite and seek more, to survive.

There is a bear in me that moves continually forward, unknowingly crushing obstacles to track food or scratch my hide on a tree.

I need a powerful and kind bloody-mindedness to remain stable as Stephen and I continue on our Independent-musician-direction into the dark.

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