HoneyfeetNovember 8, 2013
There is a question, that I find myself and probably most poncy artists and musicians asking ourselves daily:
Is the work I’m doing worthwhile?
A few years ago I had no time to ask myself this question. I was too drunk. When you are drunk, you have less time – everything is faster, for the drunk. The drunk works harder than anyone else, because for the drunk the world is on speed. In any case. Had I thought to ask myself this question then, I wouldn’t have been too bothered, because worthwhile as the work may have been or not, the people were awesome.
Most of all, the way that the people interacted, musically and otherwise, was (is) deeply inspiring and invigorating.
“There is a code of conduct”, I have boasted, “between musicians – we are paid so little, and treated with such ironic disdain, that necessitates an absolute fealty and faith”. Now and then I think maybe I don’t mean ‘musicians’, here, but ‘certain musicians’, or even ‘certain particular musicians that I could name and whom I love’.
It takes a lot of people, and a lot of goodwill, for a musician or performer to get by, sometimes. It is a mammoth task, one person being alright. And the greatest encouragement, I reckon, is generally entirely unheralded.
Anyway. For years this group have been leaning on one-another in a more beautiful combination of necessity, delight, invention, compassion, and sardonic wonder than I have ever seen anywhere, and at last we’ve made a collection of recordings, and tomorrow, we are going to celebrate it.
You have no idea, how many joys and other things this stirs in me.
Honeyfeet. Why on earth are we called ‘Honeyfeet’.