Vanity Project Track by Track – Embrace the Glut

As a part of the launch for Vanity Project, I am writing a series of blog entries that give a bit more background detail and making of for each track. All these blogs will be collected together in the Vanity Project area of the site.

EMBRACE THE GLUT

When I was about 13, I got a second hand skateboard. I thought skating was cool until the first time I properly fell off it and left myself with a scar and my mum told me I had to wear knee pads and arm pads if I wanted to skate and I knew deep down that was not cool.

When I had more TV channels, I used to love watching the X Games. I got a thrill out of seeing Pierre Luc Gagnon and Bob Burnquist riding the halfpipes, brave and intense and balletic.

As I watched these competitions, somehow, I became aware of the idea of street skaters. That there were people out there who were as good, perhaps better than the professionals, but who stayed home, and did it for the love. These were underground, unsponsored figures. No names who might pop up on a video or a magazine, before disappearing again into the melee of the local skate park or some parking lot where they could practice a technical trick.

This feels like something to embrace.

First Review – Vanity Project

A friend of mine called David, who is a Plymouth musician, is the first person to have written a review of ‘Vanity Project’. He posted it to the Stackhouse Jones facebook page.

He very kindly writes:

Vanity Project is forty minutes of exhilarating, hypnotic and unremitting genius that engaged my full attention and kept me somewhere between meditation and insanity throughout. All the elements of low-res video, high quality audio and unexpected vocals hung together, taking me to places I never knew existed, providing me with moments of genuine inspiration. I’ll be taking that trip again and would willingly become addicted.

Vanity Project Outtake – City In His Veins

This is one of the poems that got lost along the way of Vanity Project. ‘Home 2’ is in part a postcard to Torquay and Totnes, but I wanted to write a little love letter to my adopted hometown, Plymouth. I got put off when I heard the phrase ‘city in his veins’ in a different poem a few weeks after writing it. I could never find anything better to work in its place. But it has some fun lines, so here it is.

CITY IN HIS VEINS

track thirteen on the car stereo
electric windows winding down
200 miles and 30 years on
an echo blown from the underground
methodists with a glowing cross
moths around the burger van
the greenest of all go’s
the loudest of all gold’s
the city in his veins

the carpet of the wildflower streetlights
the mirrorball inside his eyes
this new kaliedoscope of neon
the world at 30 miles per hour
an aluminium shell and seatbelt
his lawyer’s coming home tonight
dream a hometown dream
leave on the hallway light
he’s got the city in his veins

Simon Travers, 2017

Vanity Project Track by Track – Friday

As a part of the launch for Vanity Project, I am writing a series of blog entries that give a bit more background detail and making of for each track. All these blogs will be collected together in the Vanity Project area of the site.

FRIDAY

Any workplace has gaps between what is promised and what you experience. Once upon a time when I was a teacher, I experienced a dignity gap. The dignity gap is measured in the light years between the promise of devoting your life to inspiring and challenging young minds and the reality of dying inside because a bunch of fifteen year olds keep making fun of your sideburns.

With my job now, the gap is measured in Fridays. The promise of Friday is an essential part of the workday week, for Friday represents getting through, a night out and a lay in, re-connection to the life that you come to work for. TGI Friday. But for me, there has sometimes been a gap. Friday’s energy and grace got used up on Thursday. Friday ran out before it got started. You feel bad because you’re too tired to feel good. In the gap, it all feels empty.

The local radio station don’t make it any easier. They call it feel good Friday, then they carry on with exactly the same playlist they played all week, every week. But sometimes, something else happens. Around 11:15 on a Friday morning, they play a sad song, something like ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel or ‘The Boxer’ by Simon and Garfunkel. For a moment, you feel known, identified, accepted. For a moment, the radio stops telling you to feel good and lets you feel understood.

Then they play Charlie Puth again.

Vanity Project Track by Track – Silhouette Cove

As a part of the launch for Vanity Project, I am writing a series of blog entries that give a bit more background detail and making of for each track. All these blogs will be collected together in the Vanity Project area of the site.

SILHOUETTE COVE

This piece started with an optical illusion. I was driving to work on the A38 in February 2015. Dawn hadn’t broken. There were these shadow clouds silhouetted against deep blue. The clouds traced the shape of an imaginary coastline. Instead of driving a dual carriageway on a slight upward incline, I saw that I was on top of a hill, somewhere in the south hams, heading down towards a secluded beach.

As I wrote the poem, I just thought Silhouette Cove was this imaginary setting where I could set some symbolic action. It was only at the start of this year that it occurred to me that this illusion could be taken as a metaphor for a world turned upside down.

 

Vanity Project Track by Track – Cold Calling

As a part of the launch for Vanity Project, I am writing a series of blog entries that give a bit more background detail and making of for each track. All these blogs will be collected together in the Vanity Project area of the site.

COLD CALLING

One of the foundations of Vanity Project is the idea that nobody needs this project but me, but I needed a lot. I showed my son The Muppet Movie recently and I’d forgotten about this scene.

Vanity Project is in many ways a promise I made to me.

So why publish? Because publicity is a core discipline of writing for me. Public/ity, as in the act of acting in public, regardless of how many people pay attention.

By choice, I don’t slam, I self-publish. I don’t do poetry competitions, I do open-mics. I’m conscious that this is a way that I hope to flow with, rather than stand out from, the oncoming tide of writers and performers. Cold Calling works on a metaphor that open-mic poetry is a little like telesales. You break in on someone’s life for a few minutes, call out of the blue, and try to pitch something precious. You dial and you hope they’ll be polite but the audience is in charge. They can hang up at any time.

And that’s just the way…

Watch Vanity Project here.