Death by twix, new music friyay and karate

Hello friends / family / skinwalkers / day traders - hope everyone is well, and I mean EVERYONE. 

Been a looooooong old while since I’ve made a blog, but it feels like the right time, you know? Got some pressing stuff to talk about!

Bit into a twix the other day and immediately felt sus. Anybody else do this thing right, when you’re eating something you don’t particularly like but you just carry on eating it, just to 100% confirm you 100% don’t like it? But you’re still not 100% sure so you just see it off regardless. No? just me? It’s kinda like hummus… hummus is such a weird tasting food - I’m not sure if I love it or not? If you really analyse hummus it actually just does not taste good, and I mean that with the upmost respect. But at the same time it also really does taste SO good? so moreish. Poppadom’s are the same, love a poppadom me, but you think about the actual TASTE of a poppadom and it’s just kinda like eating large flat crisp-like nuts. But you plant a basket of poppadoms in front of me and they’re gone - fast. ‘Juxtaposed foods’™️ I’ll call them, think I’d throw avocados in there too. 

This particular twix spiked my senses immediately… hard surface area, slightly pale coating, gutless biscuit, come to think of it the signs were there from the get go. Should’ve stopped whilst the going was good, but little old lukey two dinners had to keep going, and the good certainly did get going. Only after I’d polished the whole thing off I thought to check the use by date… 7 months gone… that’s almost a full PREGNANCY CYCLE. In fact that twix was  older than my niece. 

Jumped straight on Google to search how long it was gonna take for me to die, which is really funny because simultaneously my girlfriend (bless her heart) instantly warned me DO NOT Google it (I’m a panicker you see) - well jokes on you cause turns out this is why this blog has surfaced, *Alexa play Jeff Buckley Last Goodbye*, the twix has won.

In other news and slightly less pressing matters…

Friday, 9th of august, new song, ‘1965’, will, be, released. Super cool, kinda wild, kinda scary! it’s  also been a hot minute since I last put anything out, and LEMME TELL YA now I feel vulnerable.

The vulnerability that’s a bit like when you’re navigating the tube but you’re not sure you’re at the right station / got on the right train, but you don’t wanna be the guy that looks at the map, you know? you’re in London now - you can’t stutter, you’re a donut if you stutter! everyone’s got their eyes on you, they’re all looking at you thinking… *points finger* THAT GUY, it’s him, HE’s the tourist. 

Or like you know like when you start a new job? You’re just kinda lingering? You’re just constantly smiling at people passing by like that one meme of the kid from Charlie and the chocolate factory all the time… You get all the “oh so you’re the new guy?” “Fresh meat” “I remember my first day” comments - you get talking to one guy at lunch and he seems nice but his breath reeks and now you’ve gotta hand in your notice and so it turns out it’s all over before it’s begun. 

Releasing music again after 2 years is that (for me) - over before it’s begun… it’s kinda like that one time I went to KARATE lessons as a kid and I laughed at this fat dude that couldn’t touch his toes so the instructor (rightfully) disciplined me in front of the class, well let me tell you I felt it then (scared) and I certainly feel it now, but now I’m the one who can’t touch his toes - so who’s laughing now? (Not me) 

I am actually really optimistic about this release. It’s a song I’ve had for a while, and I’ve put loads of time / money / effort / stress and literal tears into making it. SO YOU BETTER STREAM IT. The whole EP that it’s part of (more on this later) has genuinely made me want to bash my head against the wall repeatedly so many times… I’ve been like that guy that went viral that one time for punching himself in the head repetitively outside his girlfriends door when she broke up with him… if you don’t know what video I’m referring to you’re gonna have to just take my word for it… I have been STRESSED. Also kinda enjoyed it though. Well more than kinda, I have really loved it. And I’m so proud. Gotta pay yourself a compliment from time to time, you know? 

Apart from that there’s not much to talk about really… everything else has been the same! Just another day in the matrix.. living with a severe anxiety paralysis that cripples me at the sheer thought of and ruthlessness of time hopelessly passing me by at break-neck-speed right before my eyes… with what feels like no escape from the demonic claws that this god-forsaken capitalist regime has gripped me with, chipping away slowly at my my once creative & hopeful heart… before I ultimately surrender myself to their cruel ways, giving up this music side hustle once and for all to join a pyramid scheme or invest in bitcoin or some shit. 

On that note, adios! 

(9th of August new music remember!!!) x

Cooking in batches, fresh bedsheets, my first ride in an ambulance, and writers block

Sunday’s… God’s day… Blog day, and for some (me) it’s the day for cooking in batches. You know, big old pot of pasta or rice & *insert complimentary topping here*. Something I’m really digging at the moment is risotto. Man I love risotto, veg and fake chicken, or as I like to call it “ficken” (veggie) (booooooo) (USA! USA! USA! USA!), season these handsomely, add risotto rice to toast for a minute or two, slowly add water to absorb – water must have 4 veg stock cubes osmosised into it - yes 4, c’mon give a man a break you know. Important tip, don’t season with salt – use other seasonings –the veg stock will add that saltiness… mamma mia it is belissimo, you know?  I always saw risotto as posh people rice… not self proclaiming to be posh now at all, but I’ve ventured into the classy side of rice these past couple weeks and it’s really working for me. Maybe I should start wearing boat shoes? It’s also one of them, a bit like a Chinese (takeaway, not person), where it tastes better the longer you leave it you know? (not too long cause it will go off of course).

I like to get shit done on a Sunday… it’s a day for getting shit done… do a bit of housecleaning you know? And by housecleaning I mean I move a few things around in the sole bedroom I rent off my live-in-landlord and change my bedsheets… so I’m a liar is what I’m trying to say.

Here’s a nod to fresh bedsheets – is there much better? I’d like to revise last week’s blog title to – ‘a haircut and fresh bedsheets can really change a guy’. Because that shit’s like hitting factory reset. Fresh haircut? You’re whistle walking down the street. Fresh bedsheets? You’re sleeping like the dog from Tom & Jerry. Both on the same day? You are rejoiced… welcome to the afterlife my sir, tuck in… because you’re about to feel something special.

I’ve had a bit of a torrid week this last week. Last Sunday I was in A&E until 3:30am, so it was in fact not a day for rejoice… (I’m not sure I’m using the right word here but let’s roll with it)

I was cooking (not in batches) a curry (that’s probably where I went wrong), when I suddenly took a turn for the worst and lost control of my legs. Next thing I’m mid-collapse and “went all weird” -  is the only way I can describe it. I thought I might’ve just been hungry or something, so I ate.

Then the panic kicks in… I’m all dizzy, feeling like my head’s full of raging wasps and heavy metal (the material not the music) at the same time? So I phoned Leah to try and settle the nerves cause I’m not sure what’s real or not at this point, I made that age old mistake of googling my symptoms and came to the conclusion I had about an hour to live, so she hurried over (bless her) – she lives 45 minutes away and took a train and taxi to get to me – what a gem. When she arrived it was about 9pm ish and I’d been dying for 2 hours by this point, she says I was staring into space, not finishing my sentences, slurring words and not answering anything she was saying (shock I do this anyway I’m so sorry). So anywaayyyyyy… she phones 111, speaks to the handler on my behalf because I’m genuinely having issues forming any sentences… next thing there’s 3 paramedics in my room. I’m like iesu grist this must’ve been a hell of a weird curry, I’ve probably just got a bit of naan bread lodged somewhere weird. They do some tests etc in my room, but we’re limited with space there cause there’s not enough room to hang a disco ball if you know what I mean? (hello Caleb & Jay if you’re reading) – that’s an inside joke.

Next thing I’m taking my first trip in an Ambulance getting my head moidered by the paramedic, nice enough bloke and fair play he had just saved my life – that’s deffo a lie btw but it adds dramatic effect (I’m storytelling let me embellish). He’s telling me he knows all these celebrities (I’d never heard of them) and I need to message them on Instagram and said he sent me their way… it was that typical night out chat where that one lad’s piping up telling you to never give up on your dreams… you know that one who’s always telling you what your next 5 steps need to be and that his cousin’s done work on Stan Collymore’s house and he can get your demos to Louis Walsh… proper smoker’s section moidering like. Nice bloke though, and I mean no disrespect, but my blood pressure was through the roof, my heart was going like the clappers, and I’ve got this bloke telling me to message the fella that went on Love Island 6 years ago.

Anyway we get to Guildford hospital, and let me tell you something… I HATE HOSPITALS. They are SO BORING.

I get a few tests & scans etc done you know the usual meat & potatoes kind of stuff… we was there until about 3:30am, and eventually got released to go back to Leah’s after. I just hit the sack big time, thank the lord for uber btw, I was in and out of sleep for all of Monday then.

But the hospital didn’t really give me an answer other than to get more tests from the GP, but it sucks to be me cause I couldn’t get registered to a GP down here… the amount of hoops you have to jump through is ridiculous, I had to show TWO forms of ID (passport and driving license / birth certificate) and proof of address, along with 4-5 sheets of paper to fill out, THE SYSTEM IS FLAWED. Anyway, I eventually got registered to a GP down here and now it’s the waiting game you know?

I rested for the entire week then and didn’t leave my bed until Friday pretty much. Other than to walk to the shop (big up Bordon stores) and the one time I went to the park near my house once to sit on a bench (it was very Forest Gump) (except I was alone and didn’t run anywhere) I did nothing… and I loved it. I read a book called “Stoner” and despite the title it is not about mara-J-wanna consumption, it is actually a very good book that comes with very high recommendation (from me) x

I also did a bit of song writing… I’ve fallen victim to “writers block” recently. This is a big scary topic that every creative person hates… it’s a bit like the mum from tom & jerry… you hardly ever see her but every so often she’ll come out of nowhere and whack you with a broomstick (a lot of tom & jerry references this week maybe I’m nostalgic) and if I ever did a podcast I would go into a lot of detail about this. It’s something I struggle with A LOT. Some people debate if it does even exist? Like is it even a thing? Of course it is, but the answer is you’ve just gotta work through it – it’s like a metaphor for life there you know? If ever you’re having a bit of a moment and you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, doubting yourself, take a step back and go again… the solution is always simpler than the problem.

Writers block is just a lack of inspiration and lack of creativity, but you make it worse for yourself, well I do anyway, because I tell myself that everything I‘ve been doing is terrible and I HATE IT. But you’ve gotta change your approach… go back to basics you know? Sometimes it’s all it takes… KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID (a lesson learnt from my old man). Last week I wrote 4-5 songs that were all like little acoustic guitar sad boy Bon iver meets the shitter male equivalent of Phoebe Bridgers type songs, you know? And they don’t ever have to be heard by anyone else in the world but at least you’re writing something. I think I’ve been trying too hard to be a punk…

Anyway, that’s all for this episode, bit of drama this week but who doesn’t love a bit of drama? It’ll keep you on your toes. I still get the odd moment where I feel a bit non-compos-mentis if you know what I mean? But life goes on. See you in two weeks hopefully I survive x (and you do too)

BBQ’s, (still) no car, Recess, and how a haircut can really change a guy

It’s BBQ weather comrades… and I’ve just seen a bald Tory boat shoe wearing royalist with a henry lloyd jumper thrown over the shoulder having a stern stare-off with a pack of council estate hoodrats. The hoodrats were sitting on deck chairs in a car park brewing up a BBQ, whilst he’s just parked the Tesla in one of them cute houses on the street next to The Boileroom – if you know Guildford you know where I’m at – one of them shoebox houses that would set you back about 800k a brick just cause of the Surrey tax, you know? Still would probs be my favourite place to live here though, proper nice street that one.

The sun can fix a lot of things though no? I feel like it makes most things a lot more bearable. Don’t like jumpers? Cool… it’s sunny, who needs a jumper?? Don’t have a car because you got ripped off by Mon Car Garage Llangefni? Cool… you can bike to the train station at 7am and watch the sunrise – no problem. Until you get a flat tyre that is…

It happened to me on my commute in to work the other day, not gonna go into great depths here because you’d have seen it all over my Instagram story. But it happened and we dealt with it, you know? You just gotta take what life throws at you and bat it away.

I’ve always thought BBQ’s were overrated… yeah I said it. I think it’s a bit of a façade, we’re more attracted to the “vibes” than the taste you know? (what a quote that is by the way) – print it and put it on a t-shirt. But yeah, BBQ food just tastes like burnt, and you’ll always get an unwanted appearance from a wasp. I’d much rather sit inside eating marmite on toast. Boring aye… uncultured etc etc

Still biking in though… it’s cool, I like the train. It has it’s positives, I can pee whilst moving, and I find I get a lot of inspiration on the train. Enough time to think you know? There’s negatives too mind, like don’t you hate when the train’s too full so you have to stand in the bike storage place, crammed as fuck… one of three things always happens in that scenario:

1.       The phantom farter (usually me) – obvious one, someone guffs and it’s a total wipeout, everyone’s mentally blaming eachother, doing that awkward disapproving eye contact thing but we’re all stood still in dead silence afraid of confrontation pleading that the next stop comes soon so that you get an ounce of fresh air. This was worse during COVID times… you’d think a mask would keep a fart out, but in reality it just trapped it inside reflecting off the walls of your mask and your mouth, a bit like the fart version of Space Invaders. Nightmare scenario.

2.       The dislocated knee – You’re holding on for dear life, you’ve got hold of the sturdiest thing you could find, the railing (preferably), someone’s boob (un-preferably) (depends who you ask) (and who’s boob), or the toilet door handle. The train accelerates suddenly, you all shudder but your feet remain planted because there’s too many bodies in the compartment, but there’s just enough space so that there’s enough movement meaning you feel the impact of an elbow. Your knee goes, you’re secretly wincing, nobody else knows you’re in pain, awkwardly trying to regather your stance, it goes again, then it’s an endless cycle of dislocation and discomfort. This has never happened to me - but who’s to say it won’t? Put more seats on trains I say.

3.       The over-eager passenger – There’s always that one guy… you know the one… he’s determined to find a seat, or determined on making a seat out of anything. Coke can? Seat. Arm rest? Seat. Luggage container? That’s a fine-looking seat. NO. If there was a spare seat, we wouldn’t be standing would we, you fucking SHMUCK. It’s always a rookie businessman on the way to London trying to look more important than he is… desperately searching for a seat so he can open up excel and smash buttons in an attempt to impress the fine looking silverfox with the sharpest 3 piece suit. Shut up man, just stand there looking into space like the rest of us… how dare you try make a career for yourself!!!!

Anyway, thankfully none of these scenarios have come true for me recently. Although I did get a seat next to a peeping tom the other day, or a peeping Sheila (girl equivalent) (it’s not but I just made it a thing)… usually I don’t wanna sit next to randoms, just because of the potential risks that it poses… you know? Smelly breath, heavy breather… you know, all the breath related problems you can run into on a daily commute to work. But anyway, I had my seat, and the night before I was googling the Recess characters (because Leah asked me which one reminded me of her) (Mikey for those interested). And I opened up my Safari page to search something irrelevant, you know like when the coronation was or how long the Cenozoic era lasted, and I still had all the Recess characters up on my phone, I catch the lady to my right side-eyeing a glimpse of my screen. Doing the eye roll as if my google searches were 1) any of her business and 2) a burden to her. Let me tell you something… you’re lucky it wasn’t the private tab ey! Cause nobody wants to see that on a Wednesday morning.

Got a barnet trim the other day… trimmed a couple inches off the ol’ bonce you know? The noggin’ got a seeing to etc etc

A Bulgarian woman it was that done it… good job too. I’ve always got this theory that a good barber cuts hair to the shape of the head, not the hair – does that make sense? there’s probably a better way to describe this but you know what I mean? My head REQUIRES a low skinfade, I like the sides BALD and I mean BALD, I want it like cut throat razor bald, I’m talking Charles Bronson meets Dwayne Johnson… that kind of bald. But it has to be low, an inch or so above the ear, and if you don’t know how big an inch is then I’ll just show you a picture of my pen…lid.

Keep it low, do it slow, you know? If there’s any barbers reading (Gav) (safe travels to Peru laa) - YOU’VE GOTTA CUT TO THE HEAD!

This woman was giving me the scientific breakdown of my headshape and what types of haircuts would suit me… how I should style it etc etc – that’s the service you expect you know? Like you don’t go to a chippy and expect to be served a mashed potato? You want a bag of chips. GIVE THE MAN A BAG OF CHIPS. And if you can add the salt & vinegar… then all the better.

I think it’s time we demand more from barbers. I said it… It’s something I’ve always had a love / hate relationship with… the great British barber. I think we need to do something about it… if you’re not happy, assert yourself, educate the barber, the barber needs to take the criticism, I’m not saying don’t pay for the service… because after all… you go to a chippy, ask for a bag of chips, get the mashed potato… you’ve still got a mashed potato you know?? That needs to be paid for before you leave the premises… but the point I’m trying to make is… it’s your choice to leave with the mashed potato, or with the bag of freshly cooked, evenly salted & vinegar’d chips. Make the right choice. I know what I’m leaving with.

Isn’t it mad though how a good haircut can make you feel a million bucks. You’re not a million bucks, but you feel it. And that’s ok.

Nothing else is new just yet… it’s a toss-up between a Sunday roast or Wagamamas for dinner tonight. Two very different sides of the coin there, I know. Had an Indian for dinner last night, so might have to play this one safe – if you know what I mean? Takeaway heaven for Lukey two dinners this weekend innit, but can I just let you know something? I don’t care.

We’ll wrap it up there for this episode m’dudes. See ya in two weeks!

xxx

Meal Deals, bike / train wanker, Greece, and a flat viewing

*Guess who's back? Back again Shady's back, Tell a friend*

Duuuuuuuuuuuw ‘stalwm gia!

A few things have happened since my last blog post… I’ve started a band, moved house, graduated, Elon Musk bought Twitter, we’ve seen the changing of 3 prime ministers, we’ve seen the changing of  3 Southampton managers, Elon Musk ruined Twitter, and the country went into national mourning when tragedy struck as the price of a Tesco meal deal rose to £3.90, oh and the Queen’s ded af.

Do you ever get them moments of reflectiveness in your life? Where you get all deep, introspective, and reminiscent. You’re questioning your purpose, and conclude that at the end of the day it’s all for nothing, cause one day we’re all gonna be stuck in the mud… I’ve had one of those months… my car broke down and I’m being SUPER dramatic about it because now I have to bike to the train station every morning and get the train into work & back. An hour cycling everyday man… at the start of the month I was genuinely pedalling and crying simultaneously in the rain. I was so tired that collapsing on the spot and rolling into a small puddle to drown myself in 2cm of misty bacteria infested water seemed like the most pleasant thing to experience in that moment. I’m using my dad’s old bike too, it only goes up to gear 4 for some reason, and if I stop pedalling the chain comes off… nightmare.

But after two weeks of cycling now I’ve started to master the art of cycling. And with the beauty of hindsight I’m kinda starting to enjoy it… my boobs aren’t as big and my heart doesn’t feel like it’s covered in a layer of grease. There’s deffo a really deep metaphor somewhere there about finding zen within chaos or some shit but let me tell you it’s been AWFUL ok, it’s been AWFUL Since the weather’s been nicer I’m half debating just carrying on biking until after summer, cause I’ve also got a holiday at the end of June and it would be nice not to have to wear a two piece.

Going Greece I am… can’t wait to catch sunstroke and get pissed off when my dad’s leg hairs awkwardly touch me on a sweaty bus route to some sort of tourist trap – you know the one where you have to pay an extortionate price for liquid or accept dehydration?

One class thing about holidays is getting your hands on the most obscure flavours of crisps. I’ve always been dead into that shit… going abroad? I’m flying straight to the supermarket *said in foreign accent*… or snorkelling for so long that my whole body prunes up and I look like Hans Moleman from The Simpsons.

I’ve never really been keen on relaxing, I hate sitting still and being stuck with my brain for company, but after this month I’m well up for lying in the sun, getting all red and sticky – a bit like… you know… a bell.. pepper covered in honey.

I’m also currently looking to rent a place with Leah… we went to view a flat yesterday actually… was quite a nice little place. The type of place I could really see myself getting home and complaining about raising prices of electricity and the hideous Guildford council tax fees. We jumped straight in and said we’d put a deposit down there and then, grab the bull by the horns, pull the trigger, secure the bag etc etc, but she (the landlady) calmly dispossessed us and said she’s gonna wait for more viewings first before deciding. That makes it sound like a huge failure but it was actually a huge power play on my behalf cause lemme tell you… she was startled (in a good way). I came in all assertive with that prime Jose Mourinho attitude talking numbers and stats, the lips were moving but the eyes were telling a different story if you know what I mean? Gonna have to fend off all the other competition now though… might just stand outside the door with a nest full of hyped up wasps just to fend off any potential threats.

The only downside of the flat tour was when we were shown the kitchen I spotted a plate full of dead meat, her dinner (obviously), but she was letting it breathe or something idk… bringing it up to room temp. Caught 3 slabs of meat staring at me looking all bloody, pale and lifeless (I’m a veggie) and I almost threw hands. (this is the part where we don’t get the flat because of my negative tomfoolery) (karma) (please don’t punish us we really want this flat).

The landlady was Greek as it goes, I made a small fool of myself because I actually don’t know where in Greece I’m going in June, and when she asked I just straight up lied to her face and said Crete? I am ashamed of my ignorance.

I’ve also got my first gig hopefully coming up in May… been a long time coming… but there were barriers I had to break down first you know? Been offered one in Shoreditch, or as I like to call it Soredick (tehehe) and we’re just ready to rock, ready to play some ROCK SHOWS you know? Will let you know if it deffo goes ahead xx 

 Anyyyyyywaaaaaaaay, we’ll leave it there for this episode (can I call it an episode?) (Let’s just call it an episode) I’m gonna aim to do these once every two weeks, but keep it a bit shorter you know? There’s only so much brain power a guy has! See you on the flippidy flip *michael scott voice*

xxx

No Nü Music & thank u Tom

Bonjour, Hola, Wilkommen, Konnichiwa, iawn cont? 

Welcome to week two of the blog, where I plan on discussing new music! So go grab a refreshing beverage of your choice, tuck in, and hold on to your nipples, cause all will soon be revealed (oooOOOooooOOOoooOOoo) x 

For those who have read the previous blog post - 1) You have the will power and mental strength of a prime Daniel LaRusso. Congratulations and thank you for getting through that bollocks (this one is a lot worse) 2) You’ll know that I left off mentioning the EP which I recorded a couple weeks ago in Cardiff. 

I recorded the EP with a handsome young man who goes by the name Thomas Rees. We call him Tommy Ten Toes, and by we I mean me. Tom is the front man and driving force behind the band ‘Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard’, who recently supported Tom Jones & Stereophonics in a sold out Principality Stadium - so he can do a music. Alongside this he is a fine producer, and mixing engineer. To work with him, but also get to know him was a privilege and an honour, a truly great person - thanks for having me Tom x
Over the 5 days we spent in each-other’s company me and ten toes got talking quite a bit. We talked about rats the size of a bag of meat, snare drums, Greggs vegan sausage rolls, Cardiff’s steady decline into the real life version of the upside down out of Stranger Things, and most importantly, music. It’s always good to surround yourself with people like ten toes, true professionals who work hard. It’s important to get in a room with them and just make yourself vulnerable, ask all the questions and absorb everything  - thank you for your patience Tom x
Well to cut to the chase, because of ur conversation, the EP will most likely not be released to the world for quite some time, if ever (probably will but it adds dramatic effect and who ACTUALLY knows… ???) “Why Luke?” You ask… “You’ve put so much time, effort, money, and hard work into it, on top of that you also paid an extortionate amount for train tickets, messed up your Air B&B reservation and almost slept on the streets on a Thursday night as a result.” Recording an EP but never releasing it, “what an absolute useless shmuck this guy is” I hear a little voice in the back of my head say. Well how would you react if I told you I’m gonna do it all over again? Two more times. (This is the part where you get angry because you NEED to consume my music). 

Before I eventually reveal the almighty answer to the almighty question that changed my mind on releasing the almighty music that will ultimately lead to an almighty anti-climactic drop to this almighty pointless blog - let me supply you with some pre-context. What it’s like being a solo musician. A true solo musician. “Nobody cares!” I hear you exasperate (ooo nice adjective), well strap in kid cause * we’re in for a bumpy ride * ! 

I was recently asked to participate as an interviewee as part of a friend’s dissertation about marketing in the music industry. There’s a colloquial term in my area of North Wales where we say “moider”. The closest equivalent of a moider, or moiderer (person), moidering (doing word - I can’t remember what the term is) is to waffle. To just keep talking with no real purpose or relevance - a little bit like what I’m doing now. Anyway, we had a good moider for about an hour, about the music industry and all it takes to “make it”. No clue why he asked me to be a part of it cause I haven’t made anything decent since the beanbag I made in year 9, but it allowed me to chat shit for an hour so I loved it. When I eventually shut up the conclusion was, doing the musics is bloody tough man… unless you have luck & money… a lot of it. Without that you’re toast *.

- before I talk money and musical politics its worth mentioning I completely 100% solely fund and support myself and my music - 

What a lot of people don’t realise is how much effort and sacrifice goes into this hobby of mine. I could buy a second hand car for the same amount of money I spend on recording just one single in a professional studio. It’s also the amount of hours I put in to create a song, from the very first demo idea to the fully mixed and mastered version… I could probably watch Avatar back to back 36.5 times and then a bit more. It sometimes takes days, weeks, months or even years for a song to come to fruition… one song on this EP started in the 1st lockdown which was about 12 years ago! I write all my songs on my own, every instrument originates from my brain / fingers. Sometimes a good producer will put their spin on it, but I can assure you every single thing to do with my songs goes through me first. You could think of it as an instagram filter. I’m very proud of that because it’s really cool, but it’s also very draining and it has its downsides, doing everything on your own.
If you’re wondering why I’m moaning and going slightly off topic, don’t worry, cause so am I.
I guess what I’m trying to emphasise is that a lot of people overlook a lot of what us songwriters / musicians do, but there’s A LOT of leg work that goes into it behind the scenes before the consumer hears the end product. And it’s super-hard for unsigned artists who have 0 help from anybody else. 

My usual game plan as an artist would be to write - record - promote a bit - release - promote a bit more - repeat. But it doesn’t work. I mean I am right now sitting on 39 monthly Spotify listeners. The month after a release I get a couple hundred max. Hardly successful. Not a single soul in this world cares about my music, and I don’t expect them to. But, I can try harder to make people care and attract an audience. I’ve been doing it wrong. When I used to wash pots in a restaurant, an old boss of mine told me, “when the plan’s going wrong, change the plan”. It’s the first rule of a successful business. Seems obvious really, doesn’t it. But when you’ve poured your heart out into something, when every ounce of effort has gone into creating a product you’re proud of, time, money, ambition, desire, pride has gone into it, you just wanna get it out and for people to listen / care / like it. It means everything to me. I want people to listen to my lyrics and relate to them, I want people to hear the textures I create and wonder how the hell I made that sound come to life, I want people to hear my obnoxious drum fills and think I’m a flashy twat. I love creating things, it honestly means everything to me. I want all of that because I’ve sacrificed (and am prepared to sacrifice a lot more) to achieve my dream. It’s all I want to do for the rest of my life. But, in order to make that a reality it usually goes back to needing luck and money. Neither of which I have.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself Luke, why do you do it if it’s such a hindrance?”… cause I. LOVE. THIS. GAME. Proof reading all this with a pinch of hindsight I realise it seems like I hate the process, that couldn’t be further from the truth, the process is what I’m addicted to. Like a musical Del Boy I just love the hustle. Ever since I was a kid I’ve been fuelled by the chase & the doubt. The underlying message throughout this whole blog post is that, for the first time in my “career” I’ve actually received constructive & helpful advice from someone professional who has my best interests at heart. Stupidly, this is something that is so hard to come by in this industry. If you know you know, but the music industry gives a whole new meaning to that age old quote of “it’s a dog eat dog world”… which I’m not denying it definitely is, but it doesn’t mean we cant help each other out every now and then. But it helps so much when someone like me asks annoying questions and gets valuable advice from someone like Tom - thanks again Tom x

The advice I received (in short) that’s made me realise I need to change my plan = Don’t release your music until people listen. Create a hype. How tho??… This is my new approach:

1.Write good songs

2. Find a band

3. Gig

4. Approach gatekeepers (the right gatekeepers not just Simon Cowell)

5. Find out what gatekeepers are

6. The secret tactic of how to create a hype, which is actually the real saucy bit of advice - like the krabby patty secret recipe that I’m not gonna share because then it won’t work for me and also makes me a hypocrite (refer back to dog eat dog quote) - but I can’t give it a all away man!!

7. Support slots

8. Stick to one or two venues

9. Get gatekeepers at a gig

10. Cry because you did it all wrong and you can’t handle anymore failure so go back to working your desk job looking at excel price matching spreadsheets and fall into a dark depression

11. Hope your boss didn’t read that ^

And that pretty much sums it up, a very long winded and unnecessarily boring way to say “just do it” - could’ve just watched a Casey Neistat vlog no? I’m gonna do myself a favour and see this blog off now before I go leather a customised pizza, or crewpi as me ol’ American mate Josh used to say. 

lol (lots of love),

Luke x 

The Final Week Of Uni

Welcome readers (mum and dad) to my new fancy website, which I’ve surprisingly thoroughly enjoyed creating! Its birth comes - as usual - because someone else is making me do it. This website creation originally began as part of my ‘Exit Specialism’ module which will see me out of my university days. After profusely procrastinating for 11 weeks it eventually dawned on me that watching YouTube videos of the most savage ‘Family Guy’ scenes and ASMR overnight van camping, in fact would not land me much work in this ever-more deflating & demanding but yet… addictive cesspit we call “The Music Industry”. So here’s professional Luke who has a website and needs money x

As I have 0 relevance or following external to my immediate friends & family I’m assuming that everyone reading knows me, and is aware that for the past two years of my life I have been surviving (barely) down in Guildford, Surrey. As the title evidently suggests, I am now coming into my final days of university and student life… a title I have quite frankly abused for 24months. I can’t quite believe how quickly the days have flown by. Again, under the assumption that everyone reading knows me, you’ll also know my biggest fear is time itself (or lack of). Looking back I reminisce on my experience joining in first year at the height of a global pandemic, the crippling loneliness, and that sick empty feeling in your stomach every morning wanting nothing more than home comforts. I look back now with a * that’s so raven stare into the distance * like a cut scene from a Seth MacFarlane cartoon, and only recognise now just how close I came to quitting… packing my bags and just coming home. I toy’d for hours romanticising the idea of working a 9-5 back home on Anglesey, going to the pub and seeing mates most nights, or playing Warzone in the comfort of the four walls of my bedroom.

However, resilience prevailed - I thank my parents for that trait in particular. Eventually, the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months… and with that, time, like always…just disappeared.

I study an accelerated degree, which means that I have 3 years worth of studies crammed into 2. Because of this we get a shorter summer holiday, and before I knew it I was back in my putrid student house in the Bellfields. Moving into second year I had began to - and please excuse my dramatics - “heal”. A heartbreak, multiple sleepless nights, losing my best friend (RIP REX) ((My Dog)) (((The best dog ever))), and one 45 second phone call with my dad about renewing the road tax on my car I don’t drive because I left it back home and gifted it to my little brother later… I was surprisingly optimistic about heading into my second year of studies.

Now, looking back on the past 11-12 months - apart from the summer holiday after year 11 - I can safely say that I have never felt so happy. Again, assuming every reader knows me, you’ll also know how positive I have been feeling over this period of my life. Something I really did not think I would feel during my first year of uni. Now, at the time of writing, I am looking to move into a flat with one of my best mates and permanently reside in Guildford for the foreseeable future (if all goes to plan).

Why am I so happy now nobody asks? Well it’s funny you should not care * American voiceover tone *… but it’s most likely a combination of things. Like; I’ve learnt to love my own company, I keep a small but close circle of friends and family around me - those who have my best intentions at heart (which I reciprocate), I have a steady job working at one of the most successful and prestigious music companies in the world (Andertons Music Co), I’ve made friends from Guildford Trail Runners, I am actively pursuing my dream, I’m starting to build a portfolio of work and get to play drums and do what I love, I have freedom to do whatever I want within my budget and the laws of the land (so not much really, but I recently watched The Last Kingdom on Netflix and I’m heavily inspired). Anyyyywaaaaayyyyy… case & point being, this website comes at a time where I’m about to fully “send it” - as your frat boy down it Zulu warrior chanting shmuck would say - in the big bad scary adult world.

I’m aware that as usual I’m talking… or typing (millennial’s ey)!… too much, and it would be in my best interests to close this first blog post off shortly. This is something I have today realised I actually quite enjoy. Writing and narcissistically rambling about myself, I intend to use it as a space to write down my thoughts (I have a lot of them)… let’s think of it as modern day therapy? if anybody reading does have any interest in my music / musical journey then you will hear about them all here. Like the EP I recently went to Cardiff to record! With one of my idols, and now one of my favourite humans, Thomas Rees. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve stopped singing about my ex, and am again talking about my rage at the current system, touching on topics that I’m nowhere near intelligent enough to understand let alone write a song about but I still do it anyway because Sam Fender does it and he’s cool, and also how much of an absolute donkey of a bloke Joris Bohnson is.

Maybe that’s a good place to end this first blog post… next time I’ll go into more depth about new music.

Love,

Luke x