What We Do

I wasn't always interested in guitar. I'd go to parties and see guys playing songs they wrote - songs about life, about love, about war, even about food. Only, they were never really about any of those things; they were about the girl sitting six feet away and trying to hold her attention. It should have been sweet, but a half dozen songs later, most people were rolling their eyes and whispering veiled or snorted insults. So on the off-chance someone thought that this was all about a guy, I kept my music in my room and my songs to myself.

I lived at home until I was seventeen. I liked to play music that was quiet, that wouldn't wake my family while I was strumming to myself at 3am. My songs back then were full of long expressions and elaborate metaphors, and thoughts spelled out syllable by syllable. They were gentle and vague, and no-one could ever accuse me of anything.

We were originally a four-piece, when we started playing together in 2006. I'd played in a band with Daniel many years previously, and had always liked his bass lines, his vocals and his unfailing ability to give every song I wrote a proper heartbeat. I didn't know these other two musicians he'd found, but was happy to rely on his good judgement. In the long run - after a series of slammed doors and broken mugs - he proved half right in his judgement. But past the disappointment of the other guitarist saying his goodbyes, what I really felt was the gaping hole where his lines used to be. I wondered how on earth I'd ever considered what I was playing to be real guitar. It had some rhythm, it hit a few nice notes, but it sounded like I'd been hiding behind the other musicians my whole life.

It's only in the last year or two that I've really gotten to grips from what I want from a band. You work hard when there are just three of you, you have to make every note count. And Ben is such a fantastic drummer, I think he almost shamed me into becoming a better musician. Only it was nothing like that because Ben is a stand-up, sterling and generally hilarious person to have around. He never once put me down or said I should do better. He just drummed because he wanted to, and because he enjoyed wanting to. I listened and knew that his drums sounded good because he enjoyed what he was playing. So I started playing guitar that I enjoyed playing too.

We're a better band now than we were when we started out. We're happier, certainly. It's not just about me and my songs any more either. I enjoy writing guitar for ideas that Daniel brings to practice as much as I like finding out what will happen to the lines that I write. And I think that ultimately, it doesn't matter where the songs begin; they're not really finished until Ben picks up his sticks and starts playing.

I've long since stopped strumming gently, and worrying about waking people up at 3am. I'm not inconsiderate; I've just realised that most people sleep a lot more soundly than I used to give them credit for. I don't hide behind metaphors and words that only sounds like the ones I'm really trying to say. People who like our songs have a right to know what they're getting themselves into. Not everything has changed - I never shook the feeling that gigs are just a larger party and that someone somewhere thinks I'm doing all of this to get some guy's attention. But I do like to think that somewhere, at some shows, maybe there are two people listening. And while they're nodding their heads, or stamping their feet, they realise that it's not just the music making them feel happy, it's the person there enjoying it with them.

It's a thought worth getting on stage for.

- Kathryn