#notGB15: #GinAndChant tonight 9.30pm BST in the #henswings

Over on Twitter, some of us are having great fun with #notGB15: it’s for people who, for a number of reasons, aren’t at Greenbelt. Some of us can’t camp. Some of us didn’t want to leave home. Some of us have commitments that prevent us going.

One of the traditions of Greenbelt is “Beer and Hymns”. But I feel a bit silly singing hymns on my own, at home. So tonight, in the Hen’s Wings, there will be “Gin and Chant.” The gin is optional.

I’ll be using this order for Compline and the chant is by the Plainsong Society, if you have a copy. Join in with the bold text, the hymn, the antiphons, and the even-numbered verses of the psalm — we’ll use psalm 91 tonight. (I’ll sing everything, so we don’t lose track of each other over the internet.)

You can listen and sing along here:
artsyhonker is on Mixlr

If that doesn’t work, you can try this direct link to the broadcast.

Don’t forget to get your #notGB15 “tickets” — those of us staying at home are helping people without a home.

Reforming Arts Funding

Saying this won’t make me very popular, but I’m growing tired of rants about arts funding, or the lack of same.

Don’t get me wrong. I think that in a just world the state and/or other large funding bodies would spend real money on the arts: from educating, nurturing and supporting emerging artists to making sure people of all backgrounds have affordable access to the arts. The arts are not just about entertainment, not just about keeping creative people in employment, but about emotional and spiritual health, something we can ill afford to ignore.

But today I’m not out to justify the existence of the creative sector, or composed a reasoned plea for more funding. Instead I want to examine the reasons the funding situation is currently so dire, and what we can do about it.

First of all, I think it’s important to understand that arts funding has always been hard to come by. Creative people have always had to scrape around for bits of work, take “survival” jobs in related or unrelated sectors, and put in years of work before seeing any financial return on their time. There are exceptions, both in terms of very gifted individuals with a certain amount of pre-existing privilege, and in terms of socioeconomic conditions, but they are very much exceptions. Beethoven taught to make ends meet; Bach took church jobs or court jobs; Mozart had patrons but his finances were a mess desipte starting out as a child prodigy. Haydn wrote the ‘Farewell’ Symphony as a sort of polite protest when his royal patrons arbitrarily decided to keep the musicians on in Esterhazy longer than their original contract stipulated, leaving the players in the position of not having seen their families all summer (as well as being late for any work they had lined up for their return); clearly this was not an environment in which they had the option of just finding other work. More recently, Pratchett was a jobbing journalist before writing the Discworld books, and I know hardly any solvent professional musicians who do not also teach. The majority of people never have a “big break” but just keep creating and creating, soemtimes doing well, sometimes not so well, and with a running start and a following wind we might make a decent middle-class income by the end of our career. (Don’t ask me about retirement.)

Art is work, and artists should be paid: not just enough to cover the costs of making the art, but enough to live on. So should everyone. But for the vast majority of creative people throughout history this has not been the case, and I think it’s unrealistic to be surprised that it still isn’t.

That said, while the act of getting over oneself and getting a day job can be an important step on the road to becoming a solvent artist, I don’t think “get a real job!” is a useful response. There aren’t exactly a whole bunch of jobs around at the moment; and those that exist require ever more flexibility in terms of location and hours, ever more skill and dedication. It’s a lot harder now to combine waiting tables and gigging; it’s harder to live somewhere that doesn’t have a stupid commute, and that has studio space or somewhere to rehearse; it’s harder to build up a class of piano students. The economy being bad affects artists just as much as it affects anyone else, or perhaps more. Our existence was already marginal, and there was already the expectation that we would work for the love of it rather than for money. Unfortunately, loving your work doesn’t magically result in having enough money in your bank account to keep the wolf from the door, but in the current economic climate, neither does scrubbing floors, changing bedsheets or wrangling spreadsheets.
The reality is that holders of concentrated wealth and power view the arts as an optional extra: a status symbol to hang on the wall or play in the sitting room, perhaps, an enjoyable diversion, to be sure, but ultimately optional: not a priority in the same way as food, shelter, and the pursuit of further wealth and power. Oh, we cannot live on bread alone, but that won’t stop the rich using “basic” expenses as an excuse to avoid spending on the arts; and the fallacy of stockpiling material wealth being more important than sharing transcendence with those around us is not limited just to those who consider themselves wealthy.

I do think there is another way forward. It isn’t easy, and it can be counter-intuitive. In the previous paragraph I mentioned concentrated wealth and power. I don’t think that’s the only sort of wealth, the only sort of power, any more. Oh, there are economies of scale, to be sure. There is a certain security to be found in the status quo. But the model of concentrating and maximising wealth and power also comes with severe limitations. I think most of the problems in arts funding are in fact due to the intrinsic disadvantages of a system which prioritises competition over cooperation, and the concentration of wealth and control over sharing them. This is bad for humanity, not just bad for arts funding!

What’s this other way forward, then? I don’t know all the details, but it boils down to this: if the status quo isn’t working, try something else…

For me, that means devolving power rather than hoarding it. It means putting my money where my mouth is and supporting other creative endeavors, whether that’s financially or in terms of recommendations, feedback or encouragement. It means doing work without always getting paid, not for “exposure” or with expectation of a return in future but because doing so allows me to make a contribution to the common good. It means trying to do business in a way that discourages monopoly and encourages sharing.

I’m not actually very good at any of this yet. I’m still learning. I take risks: small ones at first, usually, because not everything works out. I could definitely do more to support other artists; I’m working on it. But sometimes it does work.

In the long run, maybe my strategy won’t lead to a decent middle-class income. Maybe this is as good as it gets.

If I keep following my own strategy for making music and I am never paid another penny, I will still have contributed good music to a common body of work, accessible now instead of decades after my death. I will still have introduced friends to music they might not otherwise have heard. I will still have helped build, in some small way, a little tiny community where sharing is more highly regarded than profit.

I can’t ask for greater than that.


Continuum (a vilanelle for a lost one)

My grandmother, Mildred Rose, was a poet; when I was a child she published a book of poetry. Here is one of the poems:

I miss you when roots waken to spring rain
and more when summer penetrates the land
though friends still tell me time will ease my pain.

When grave earth flares to lively green again
and star-eyed lovers walk, quick hand in hand,
I miss you when roots waken to spring rain.

As winds force leafless poplars to complain,
your death brought grief: I cannot understand
when friends insist that time will ease my pain.

Why must I hunger for your touch again?
Ask why June buds to flowers must expand,
I miss you when roots waken to spring rain.

In paler sun now rest the fields of grain.
While I lament like waves on ocean sand,
friends still tell me that time will ease my pain.

As days inch into years, I still maintain
love’s shared flame by breath of memories fanned.
I miss you when roots waken to spring rain
though friends still tell me time will ease my pain.


I like the way the images of roots, buds, flowers and grain allude to the way death and rebirth is part of the natural cycle — that everything dies, and comes to life again… even if, as in this poem, we don’t really feel like the “coming to life again” bit can ever happen. Maybe that’s not what Grandma was after, maybe she just wrote that way because of the strong connection she always had to the prairie landscape. But there’s something hopeful, if poignant, about the idea of maintaining love through memory. I hope I’ve been able to capture that in the music.

I’m experimenting with putting a video/recording online at the same time as I put the sheet music on the Choral Public Domain Library. Youtube is a bit faster than CPDL is, so at the moment Continuum is available on the contributor wiki, which you’ll need a login for, and sometime on 28th July it’ll make its way over to the public CPDL site. But you can watch and listen below:

Or you can go and listen over at Soundcloud.

As usual, the work is released under a CC by-SA license: that means you can download the sheet music for free, you can sing it for free, you can record it for free — as long as you attribute me. If you like my music and want me to write more, please try to share it with someone who doesn’t know about it yet and might like it; or consider becoming a patron. Thanks!


The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth is transferred from 31st May to 1st June this year, because Trinity Sunday is more important; but we did get some words to Mary by Athelstan Riley in one of our hymns this morning: “Thou Bearer of the eternal Word, Most gracious, magnify the Lord.” I note that Athelstan Riley died in 1945, which means his words become public domain this year (or next? I get confused).

In February I put a Nunc dimittis online. The sheet music for the matching Magnificat is now online at the Choral Public Domain Library. I haven’t done even a computer-generated recording yet, but I’ll try and add one in due course, and this is definitely a piece on the list of things I would like to have a demo recording for in due course.

Anyway — as usual, the music is CC by-SA which means you can share it — indeed you are actively encouraged to share it — even for commercial purposes, but you have to attribute me and you have to use a similar license. In practical terms, that means publishers aren’t interested in the work. Instead, I crowdfund a sort of honorarium via my Patreon page. Do have a look if you’d like to become a patron of the arts, or if you just like my music enough to buy me a cup of tea.



Seeking an Accompanist/Assistant Organist

St. Andrew’s Leytonstone is looking for an Accompanist/Assistant Organist who will play the piano for choir rehearsals for one hour on Thursday nights and play the organ for at least one Sunday service per month, working closely with the current Director of Music. The successful applicant will be a competent musician with an imaginative approach to accompanying choral liturgy. S/he will be able, or willing to learn, to direct a small amateur choir in a wide range of sacred music, and may be called upon to sing occasionally if appropriate. This appointment will be an opportunity to learn all aspects of Musical Directorship in a friendly and supportive environment, under the experienced direction of Kathryn Rose.

The choir sings at Choral Eucharist every Sunday with additional services at Holy Week, Easter, Advent and Christmas, as well as occasional weddings and funerals. A range of hymns and songs from the New English Hymnal and other collections is used and we are working toward a varied rotation of congregational Mass settings. We offer the successful candidate an opportunity to assist in developing the strong musical tradition here, and hope for someone who will participate fully in the life of the parish.

The church is blessed with a fine three manual Lewis organ, with major repairs scheduled to begin in January 2016, and an enthusiastic, robed, choir of both adults and children, practising for one hour on Thursday evenings and a half hour before services on Sunday mornings. Pay for weekly Thursday night rehearsals will be £20 per hour and for regular services, £40 per service. There are also fees from weddings and funerals depending on the experience, aspiration and enthusiasm of the successful applicant.

Enhanced DBS Disclosure will be required. We are seeking someone who is available to start as soon as possible by mutual agreement. Please contact our Director of Music, Kathryn Rose, at artsyhonker@gmail.com to express an interest.

Jubilate Amen — recording

Here’s a recording of one I wrote earlier. It’s just a simple little thing, not too taxing; not quite a hymn, and not quite a lullabye.

If YouTube isn’t working, you might try Soundcloud:

Words by Thomas Moore:

Hark! the vesper hymn is stealing
o’er the waters soft and clear;
nearer yet and nearer pealing
and now bursts upon the ear:
Jubilate amen!
Farther now, now farther stealing
soft it fades upon the ear:
Jubilate amen!

Now like moonlight waves retreating
to the shore, it dies along;
now like angry surges meeting
breaks the mingled tide of song:
Jubilate amen!
Hush! again, like waves retreating
to the shore, it dies along:
Jubilate amen!


I was able to pay for the demo recording of this thanks to my kind patrons at Patreon. If you like my work, please share it.

Copyright, Creativity and Culture

I got up this morning to see much hand-wringing on Twitter over Green policy on copyright. The policy in question states:

EC1011 On cultural products (literature, music, film, paintings etc), our general policy is to expand the area of cultural activity, that is ways that culture can be consumed, produced, and shared, reduce the role of the market and encourage smaller and more local cultural enterprise (see CMS200 onwards). Specifically we will

introduce a Citizen’s Income (see EC730), which will allow many more people to participate in cultural creation;
introduce generally shorter copyright terms, with a usual maximum of 14 years;
legalise peer to peer copying where it is not as a business;
liberalise ‘fair use’ policies to operate outside the academic environment, and allow greater development from existing copyright material; and
make it impossible to patent broad software and cultural ideas.

People seem to be jumping at this, rather. In particular, there is a strong objection to shorter copyright terms with a “usual maximum of 14 years”. People are saying they’d lose too much income, that publishers couldn’t stay solvent or that it would be impossible to survive as a creative person. Caroline Lucas has since blogged that she understands this to mean life plus 14 years, which isn’t what I understand by the wording of the policy. Nevertheless, I’d like to address some of the more extreme reactions.

First of all, I want to be clear about two things:
1) Any change to copyright law will have negative impact on some people, particularly in the short term, and I would support and encourage careful transitional arrangements to reduce genuine hardship.
2) For many people in many situations, publishers (or record companies, or whatever) do add value; I am not suggesting that individual artists must or should personally look after every aspect of selling their creations from the first inkling of an idea to the day someone buys their (print, book, mp3, video, whatever) and has someone deliver it to their home. Most of us can’t do that efficiently.

Is extended copyright ‘necessary’ for artists to survive?

To start with: what is with the claim that without copyright on works older than 14 years, artists would starve, or only rich people could afford to be artists? This doesn’t ring true to me. In the UK, the copyright term has been life+50 years since adoption of the Berne Convention in 1886. However, within living memory, copyright terms have been much shorter than the current life plus 70 years in some jurisdictions outside the UK (try the United States if you don’t believe me; before 1976 copyright term was 28 years from the creation of the work), and it didn’t mean all artists were destitute or independently wealthy. Were some destitute? Absolutely. And the independently wealthy have always had an advantage in “fine” art and indeed in any discipline that involves a high proportion of unpaid learning. The reality is that throughout history, all but a handful of artists have earned their daily bread by teaching, having day jobs, doing piecework, and so on. When I was at Trinity there was a strong emphasis on developing a portfolio career, so I don’t think the life plus 70 years copyright we have now has significantly shifted the ability of artists to make a living just by doing art.

Another reason such complaints don’t ring true to me is, of course, because of my own experience. My best regular pay as a performer, both in terms of my hourly rate and in absolute terms, was when I was busking 20 hours a week; nobody was obliged to give me any money, and unsurprisingly, the amount of bootleg copying that went on was pretty low. My best regular pay as a composer, similarly, has been in the year and a quarter since I started accepting patronage while continuing to release all my work under a CC by-SA license. I wrote several weeks ago of a colleague whose sheet music piece was going out of print; it had sold 1800 copies over eight years, for which he received a grand total of about £130. He considered this “pretty good”. I now receive well over that for each piece I write, and my stuff will never go out of print.

In fairness this is partly because my work is not “in print”. My work will, through not appearing in bricks-and-mortar shops or traditional catalogues, not reach the same people that my colleague’s example work did, and if performed, it won’t be earning me any royalties. To be sure, publishers and distributors can add value, and if they didn’t exist we would probably have to invent them. But at the moment they seem to extract about 90% of the value of a work and throw a bit to whoever created it; I personally think this is moving over into rent-seeking behaviour. If a publisher adds so much value besides the content, why aren’t there more publishers snapping up CC-by-SA works and distributing them for profit? I’m certainly at a stage of my own career where they would be doing me a favour; but the reason this doesn’t happen (or if it does, not on a large enough scale that I know about it) is that publishers mostly don’t want to print something they can’t have some kind of monopoly on. This is not “adding value”. In fact, while I’m sure many publishers wouldn’t dream of it, I know of at least one music publisher who got a friend to sign their rights over and then decided not to publish the music after all.

The distribution models of the second half of the 20th century are breaking, not because of the ease with which most works can be copied (that is, shared with new audiences), but because the gatekeepers of that industry no longer have monopoly access to the means of production and platforms for distribution. When I was growing up, the idea of a musician doing their own recording and mastering was confined to the verry richest. Now I know several who do this labour themselves and use Bandcamp to distribute the results. When I was growing up, self-publishing simply wasn’t a viable option, given the cost of advertising and distribution; e-books and even online retailing of physical books have changed that world. Likewise, for most of my childhood and teens — and we’re talking the 1980s and 1990s here, I’m not that ancient yet — doing your own engraving at home and printing out music actual musicians could use wasn’t really a viable plan. But now even among composer colleagues who stick to traditional copyright models, producing your sheet music yourself and selling it through a website is pretty normal.

But even if none of this were the case — even if the majority of artists today made their living only from doing art, even if the current industry wasn’t difficult for the vast majority — the “artists will starve” argument is a red herring, because the first line of the Green copyright policy is designed to guard against exactly that: with a basic Citizens’ Income, the idea is that everyone would be able to get by. “It isn’t enough!” I hear you cry, and no, it wouldn’t be much, but Green policy on housing, medical care and education would reduce the chances of people falling through the cracks completely.

But what about peer to peer copying?

Horse, stable door, bolted. You can pay whack-a-mole with people who are passing your work on to others, or not. There are issues around easy sharing and attribution, but — and this is important — for the vast majority of people who make art, preventing peer to peer copying is impossible. You’ll never catch them all. Publishers (and record companies, and so on) are probably only going to go after this kind of sharing with high-yield investments (that is, very popular works or artists who make a lot of money for the company).

How will artists support their children if they can’t have a copyright term that’s life plus 70 years?

The same way plumbers do. Thankfully I don’t have to pay royalties to the plumber every time I use a drain that’s been fixed; I don’t have to pay royalties to the creator of the desk I’m writing this on every time I use it, either.

A better question here is why people who create things think they own the results of that creation; why they think they should continue to be paid even after they aren’t doing any work. I think part of this, at least in our society, is that we underpay creative work so terribly, initially.

How realistic are these proposed changes anyway?

We’ve had short terms of copyright before and the world didn’t end. However, I think in terms of the possibility of them actually happening, the proposals are not desperately realistic. The Green Party is very unlikely to form a majority government. Even if they did, it would take a while to get something like the Citizens’ Income in place; and after that, there’s the matter that copyright is subject to several international treaties, not the easiest things to wriggle out of on a whim.

My conclusion: Not voting for the Green Party on the basis of their copyright policy is fairly pointless, and I have my suspicions about the instigation of the hand-wringing. But don’t take my word for it: put this stuff in context with the rest of their manifesto for yourself.

Obviously, copyright is a huge topic, and I haven’t exhausted all I have to say about it here.

The Contrite Heart

Looking for texts to set (I am always looking for texts to set) I stumbled over this one by William Cowper. It looks to me to be a response to Psalm 51:

The Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart or no?

I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;
If aught is felt, ‘tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

I sometimes think myself inclined
To love Thee if I could;
But often feel another mind,
Averse to all that’s good.

My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;
But when I cry, “My strength renew!”
Seem weaker than before.

Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love Thy house of prayer;
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

Oh make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break—
And heal it, if it be.

The last two verses, especially, seem very powerful. So I decided to set it. I had a go at a three-part polyphonic setting of the last two verses, but it wasn’t really working and felt too much like an exercise. It’s a while since I wrote anything suitable for the London Gallery Quire, and I like writing hymns, so I started over and I’m pleased to say it worked rather better. This can be sung as a congregational hymn by cutting out the first three repetitions of the third line of text (so, jumping to the point where the soprano comes in), but if being done as an anthem by a four-part choir, the staggered entries make it quite effective. In the next few days I’ll try and sort out a hymnal-style file, too, for congregational situations.

It’s on the Choral Public Domain Library site as usual, but won’t be visible there for a day or so; in the meantime, the London Gallery Quire website also has a PDF. And we sang it at rehearsal on Wednesday night, so I recorded it.

As usual, the license is CC by-SA, which means Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike. What’s that in plain English? If you want to use it, use it. You already have my permission! But you must list me as the composer.

Like this music? Want to encourage me to write more? Please share it with people who might sing it. Additionally, nineteen lovely people are doing just that by being my patrons from as little as 66p per new work. Please consider joining them if you can afford to, and please don’t if you can’t.

Patreon — a sort of milestone

I’ve had a couple of new patrons over on Patreon this week. Hurrah! Hurray! Why is having 19 patrons a milestone? Well, after Patreon’s fee, and banking fees, and exchange rates, I’ve just gone over the £100 per new piece mark.

postcard thumbnailI’m making some modifications to the page there: adding pictures to some of the rewards, changing the video from the demo of “Christ has no body now on earth but ours” to the one of “Pied Beauty”, and adding rough GBP equivalents to the numbers — why didn’t I think of this before?! I’m hoping that the changes will make it a bit easier for people to relate to what I’m doing. I still haven’t done a “why you should become a patron of mine on Patreon” video, which I’m told is really the kicker. I’ll be honest, I’m not convinced, so it’s pretty far down the priority list.

If you have any suggestions for other improvements, I’m all ears…

postcard thumbnail 02postcard thumbnail 03

Meanwhile, thank you to my nineteen patrons for your financial support, and to everyone else for everything else!

Patreon, one year on

It’s a little over a year since I first set up a page on Patreon, with a view to getting paid for some of my composing. I’ve been promising to write a post about my experiences, and I’m finding the “what” and the “why” aren’t easy to consider separately. But I’ll have a go at discussing the “what” in this post, and the “why” in the next.

Patreon is a platform for distributed, or crowd-funded, patronage of the arts. Unlike commissioning or purchase, patronage in this sense leaves control of the artwork with the artist; patrons trust the artist to act as they are inspired, rather than dictating the terms or context of a work. Unlike Kickstarter and other project-based crowdfunding sites, Patreon is suitable for people who create smaller works, from daily comics to occasional YouTube videos. Creators decide whether they prefer regular monthly contributions, or patronage on a per-creation basis. Patrons choose the amount they pledge, and can stop or change their pledge at any time. On the pledge-per-creation scheme, patrons can also specify a monthly cap on their contributions.

I’ve been saying for years that I really wanted patronage rather than a job or to have to sell my work, so when I found out about Patreon I signed up pretty much right away. After a year, I can certainly say I am glad I did.

Set-up was fairly straightforward; the interface isn’t perfect, but it’ll do. At first I just had a picture and some text. I decided that a per-creation scheme, with my focus on new choral works, would be ideal for me. If I were paid per month I would feel guilty about the months when I am too busy to compose much.

Then I started telling people about it. My first patrons were people I know, and the majority still are. The money from those first few patrons meant I could afford a demo recording of “I walked in darkness” — something I’d not done before. That in turn caused a small snowball where people who hadn’t heard my music before were suddenly interested. More followed, and I now consider demo recordings as an important part of putting my music online.

A year on I have seventeen patrons. My first new work each month means that, collectively, they contribute USD $156; thereafter it’s a bit less. Patreon keeps 5% of that total, and around another 5% goes to various credit card and banking fees, so I get to see about 90% of what my patrons spend, or roughly $140.

Now, $140 is not a huge amount of money. It’s considerably less than, say, the average commission rates per minute of music, and that information is a few years out of date. It isn’t even a good hourly rate, given that most of my compositions take at least sixteen hours to complete, and some much longer.

But composers being paid badly isn’t new. Most of my composer colleagues struggle to find commissions; most take up other work to make ends meet. Talking with one colleague, I learned that a piece which sold 1800 copies over eight years only resulted in being paid about £130. This was considered a “pretty good” seller for the composer in question. I’m not at that rate yet; but I haven’t had to do the work of finding a publisher.

Patreon isn’t magic. I haven’t put as much time or thought into my profile as some people have, and that probably means I have fewer patrons than I otherwise would. I don’t do as much advertising or community-building as some people do, either. I mention Patreon on blog posts with my choral works in them, and on choral demo track videos. I tweet about it from time to time, but usually not more than once a day. I mention it at the end of Passing Notes, my monthly-ish newsletter. I have some stepped “rewards” to thank those who pledge (pledging $3 per work will get you a postcard; $10 a postcard with a recording of the music on the postcard; $20 means I’ll give you print-outs of the music too), and these do take a bit of time.

This is a level of advertising I’m relatively happy with. Beyond that, I would rather spend time and effort on composing than on self-promotion. It’s also less disruptive for me than filling out endless grant applications or trying to find a publisher interested in my work when I insist on CC BY-SA. It’s more reliable than entering competitions (I’ve never won one yet, though there are other good reasons to participate).

But the main reason that Patreon works for me is that my choral works are available online, for free. I don’t put my work behind any kind of paywall, not even the paywall that I could use at Patreon to give patrons early or special access to my work. My patrons aren’t buying a product from me. Rather, they want me to keep composing and they want me to keep putting my music online, either because they like my music or because they like me and want to support me in doing work I love.

However, Patreon is not the reason I release my work under a CC BY-SA license. If it all evaporated tomorrow, I would not have as much time available to compose, but I would continue to make the music I write available online for free. I’ll discuss why in my next post.

In the meantime, if you already make art and put it online, there’s very little to lose in setting up a Patreon account and telling people about it.