“BECOMING US” BECOMING

“Stand here at this confluence” The ‘Song of Become Us’ Becoming

This snippet is a new song in the process of coming into being. Working on me as I work on it. Called ‘Becoming Us’ which is also my mission statement for 2026 - sharing more of what I’m doing and exploring it’s wider ecosystem by joining and creating communities.

I’m posting it here as an experiment. It’s not me at my shining best so I feel a bit vulnerable putting it up. Rather it is me in the midst of creating work. A chance to share how I work up new material. I’m wondering if it’s interesting thing to hear, for you or me.

At the moment of this recording, the words are there. The basic riff is there too - a fingerpicking loop. I’ve been playing with these for a while now. Trying to bring out what I hear as the feel of a simple samba surdo drum pattern. In this 2m.23s you can hear some of this finessing, the moment by moment capture and live editing.

You might be able to hear me discovering some harmonics I’ve accidentally created, where my finger is unintentionally touching the strings as I play. I like it. You might be able to hear me trying to work out how to keep it going intentionally. I make it harder for myself by singing the first lines as I do. “Rivering. Rivering. Rivering….Stand by this confluence of Beck and River”.

You can hear it’s a struggle. I slow down. Still a struggle but less so. Eventually I get a feel for how to to do it and begin to hear what it will sound like when I can do it ‘properly’. I add a higher two-note pattern that adds sparkle to the tone and propulsion of the groove. I can’t quite keep it going but, again, I know I will able to with practice. I’m getting somewhere and I know I’ve caught it here so I can stop recoding.

Listening back I seem to have recorded moments of creative play in which something new arises by accident, is embraced into the work and inspires another more deliberate shift. Preserved, as far as I’m concerned, a sample of the joy that my relationship with Mystery, Music creativity and deep imagination brings me.

Does any of it resonate with your own experiences? Would you like to read / hear more of this rough and ready forensic detailing of the creative process in action. Leave your thoughts, even something of your own experience in the comments.

Meatime I hope to share a complete first draft of the whole song early in the new year.

Land Notes

A while back I posted one of my Land Notes - the journal I keep each time I go out on the land. You couldn’t call it by public demand but at least one person wanted more. So here’s what happened the day before Xmas eve….

23/12/25 Back to the Cave

Go up to visit the Cave which is not a cave. It has no depth but it does have the aura of a cave entrance. Near there’s is a place I want to make one of my spring events happen. This trip is a final reccy. Maybe seek confirmation/ permission from the land too.

On the way up I wonder about telling Gate, the birch grove I think of as the entrance to this Land, that this isn’t a sacred visit. And think - when is it sacred then? Any visit could be, maybe ought to be, sacred. Maybe that’s the secret to ‘living life as a ceremony’ to borrow the delightful phrase a friend used recently.

So it becomes a sacred visit. Though I don’t sing as continually as I have done, I do sing. And I have the Vintage guitar with me. Wondering, as always, why. What service does my guitar offer here?

I sing at Gate. I walk to the bridge, climb over the gate. Walk down to the stone circle, round the corner towards the beck and back and up to the cave. I heave myself up to sit on a ledge inside it and try to play the guitar. Doesn’t sound good.. I tune. Still not right. Put it down. Perhaps this is what I’ve come to learn.

I get down after a while, walk down by the wall, to look at the Beck. I climb back up to sit in the stone circle and begin to play again. Still not tuned properly. And here comes Robin flitting in. Sat on a rock opposite me. Sing to him. Hops towards me, to the edge of his rock. I remember Robin gets a mention in My Many Companions. He flies away as I find the words. I sing on. I think he is in the bush listening . “Redbreast and Titmouse singing of all these scattered signs”.

This is the right place to make the first date of the MMC tour happen. And guitar is for playing my music to the humans. It is superfluous for the land. Voice is all that’s needed.

Get up to go, feeling a little queasy. Decide to head home rather than on to Gill Wood. As I climb the gate a couple get to the stile. The woman stands and looks at me. Says something. “Sorry?” “Music on the Mountain” she says. I gabble a reply - not the mountain just the valley. We move on.

And a little further along the path back I encounter Mick and Bea. Seems significant though who knows what of! It was Mick who recorded My Many Companions with me. They’d tried to find the clearing in the woods where we did it. I talk about the accidental release and the event I’ve been planning. They go off looking to visit that spot instead. Bea has heard the tracks and is very complimentary. I ask if I can quote her. She says yes and now I just can’t recall what it was she said!!

Last Words of 2026

REGULARITY

Looking back at my Land Notes I find I’ve been out fifty times this year. Which sounds pretty good - almost weekly. But I know that’s sometimes three days in a row and sometimes a month apart. Rather like this Substack! Sarah Hymas, my great companion in many of these ventures, also has a Substack which I highly recommend. She seems to be able to offer something every month at roughly the same point in the month. I am envious of that discipline.

I am a man of bursts, of enthusiasms of sparks and flames. Which means also of silences, lacunae, withdrawal and burnouts. I seem to be in a bit of a groove atm. All of which is a way of saying expect a little more more as the calendar turns including news about next Spring’s rather speical My Many Companions : The Tour.

Meantime, Happy New Year everyone and here’s a reminder about where to find the recordings.

My Many Companions | Deep Cabaret