Blog posts

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  Sep 04, 07:37 PM

  New song: Hurts a little less each time

  

  It's amazing what you can do with Garage Band and a rainy day that keeps you inside. This is a song that really just fell from the sky (as opposed to one that was laboured over every step of the way). So, wait for a rainy day, pour yourself a big glass of scotch, and enjoy.

  ---

  Was I just a little too loud?
  Did I walk a little too proud?
  I didn't put those words in your mouth
  That was all you

  Could have sworn I could read the signs
  And the lightning flash in your eyes
  I never learned to paint inside the lines
  That's the truth

  And it hurts a little less each time
  It hurts a little less each time
  Break it once, baby break it twice
  It hurts a little less each time

  Sorry baby I'm not home
  Sorry babe I forgot my phone
  Sorry baby now I know
  The truth

  Might go for a drive tonight
  Lights out on a moonless sky
  Get some space between our lives
  Space from you

  And it hurts a little less each time
  It hurts a little less each time
  Break it once, baby break it twice
  It hurts a little less each time

  It hurts a little less each time
  It hurts a little less each time
  Break it once, baby break it twice
  It hurts a little less each time

  ---

  If you like the song I'd love it if you came over to Facebook and became a fan today [http://www.facebook.com/pages/David-Gillespie/20811178760! Thanks for listening.
• 

  Aug 31, 07:56 PM

  It's hard to say you love someone, and it's hard to say you don't

  (This is a copy. For the original post visit DavidGillespie.com)

  Being someone of the "singer/songwriter" persuasion, one of the staples is the casual observance of all things relationship. I have for most of my years done this from the point of view of somebody very much not in relationships, on account of the fact that things seemed much simpler without them. Sure, there were compromises to make, but the upside seemed, for the most part, to seriously outweigh the down. Call it selfishness or simply solitary refinement, it worked and worked well. For me anyway.

  Sitting now in the dull-glow of a post-relationship warzone, my first for quite some time, it's kinda like waking up from some kind of long over-extended yet somehow desired sleep. Everything feels just one extra step removed from reality, like a glass on a table just a foot away I will never the less have to travel two feet to pick up. My time is all my time, which is kinda how it always was. And the part of me that speaks only in my voice, sees only what I see and hears only what I want to hear, digs that.

  The other part of me is quite the opposite, reborn into this place it wasn't sure at one point it would need to spend any more time in. There's a deep sigh, an acknowledgement of some inevitability, and a post rationalisation that somehow we were always going to be back where we started. I imagine there's varying levels of truth in that, but for now it suits my needs, and as my needs are the only ones that need suiting, it sits as a self-evident truth, not one open to debate.

  In the aftermath though, weird associations get made with the relationship recently exited. I have had my heart broken a handful of times, and when once was enough, the others exist to re-enforce a point made perfectly well the first time, that in agreeing to expose on any level the scars earned in battles prior, books written to be read by nobody, you offer yourself up willing to earn another, to etch another chapter. Maybe an entire tome.

  At no point however in my somewhat checkered romantic history has the benefit of hindsight somehow built a platform that allowed the road traveled with someone to be smeared, the memory tarnished or their character stained. To do so, to walk away from a relationship and defile the person you spent your time with I find not just insulting but unfathomable. Given the choice between re-working someone's memory into a distorted fiction and facing in the harsh light of day that they didn't want me, I have chosen the latter each time. That's my choice and not an easy one, but the only right thing, because to do otherwise is to render one of you a liar and the other an idiot, not only belittling both of you but ruining any notion that what you once had was something you might like to have again someday with someone else. All I can do is hope for different endings to future versions of the relationships that didn't work out, and trust that one day I get another shot at getting it right.

  John Mayer, a musician who draws plenty of snickers from my friends but whose writing I thoroughly enjoy, has an unreleased song he played the first time I saw him, This Will All Make Perfect Sense Some Day. It contains the following line:

  To all the hearts I broke, and the ones that once broke mine, I've got suspicions all will be forgiven in time

  Maybe there's some truth in that, and I imagine it varies depending on who you're talking to. I'm hoping there is though, and I'm hoping it extends outside my 6 feet of existence and into the 5′8″ frame of someone considering a re-working of our own tragic fairytale. History may be written by the victors, but in the case of two people winding up losers I don't mind going quietly. As quietly as one can go in 600 words anyway. That's not a stab at self-righteous, it's not a stab at right at all. It's a quiet crossing of fingers.

  In the hope that all will be forgiven in time.

  Visit DavidGillespie.com for more.
• 

  Jun 15 2008, 05:10 AM

  Sometimes you can't make it on your own

  I just got in from taking my band to see the Scorsese-directed epic, Shine A Light. It's hard to imagine anyone other than Scorsese being able to pull that off, to capture the energy of the Stones and leave nothing on the table. To see the friendship, the best parts of the gang mentality shine through the years of footage and dedication to their craft is to get a glimpse of the enduring, seemingly ever-lasting machine that makes The Rolling Stones what it is.

  
  

  Over the last 6 or so months I've gone from spending each night alone on stage ot being able to share it on a regular basiss with a now fmailiar group of faces. Somewhere before now I got it into my head I somehow had a single-minded burden to bear, that to be able to look ove rmy shoulder and see someone who had my back was some kind of phantom weakness, the ghost of what I couldn't do on my own.

  
  

  Sitting in that darkened theatre tonight and seeing what Mick, Keith, Ronnie and Charlie had, I realised I wanted that. Not the fame and the money (though, don't get me wrong, I'll take it in spades thanks) but standing eye to eye with people who have walked that road with you and not tired along the way, that unmistakable bond that
  only gets forged under stage lights and in the dust that swirls through the crapped-out air-conditioning vents of the dank, dark rooms you rehearse in. I don't think for a second I have eveyr last face around me, but I know I have enough to get it started.

  
  

  You'll see us out at some shows soon, and I hope you'll agree.