If creativity is a ball game, am I playing the wrong one?

10^th May, 2025
The Lungomare, Chiaia, Naples

24 hours before my holiday ends, I am itching to get back to my life of making and doing.

Naples is loud, exciting, busy, delicious, rammed full of people, effervescent with traffic. It’s intense, colourful, gritty, a blast. I’ve had a great time experiencing it.

It’s just…I love my life, my home, my quiet garden. My colourful attic studio where I make music and videos. My friendly neighbourhood on the edge of the city. I love my dream job and how I get to spend my days.

Two years ago today I was miserable in Bristol, raw nerves assaulted by a daily soundtrack of a dual carriageway and noisy neighbours, fading away in a dark house that sapped my spirit. Unable to think, unable to be creative, unable to write the album I knew I wanted – and needed – to write.

Everything in my life has changed for the better since then.

This is a strange moment, though. I know I want to get back, but I don’t have a clear picture of what I’ll do when I get there. My new album came out three weeks ago. The fanfare immediately died down.

What do I do now?

I sit at the long, dark dining table, sun filtering through the soft curtains, coffee close at hand. I am perplexed.

What more do I have to give?

It’s not enough to spend years writing, producing and releasing an album: I have to find ways to continually introduce the music to new people while creating fun experiences for my existing audience.

It’s not enough to create a long form video for YouTube: I have to cut clips out and remove the left and right hand side of the frame to entertain people on different platforms.

It’s not enough to write a blog post: I have to cut out the highlights to share in Notes / tweets / threads to give my piece the best chance of being read by people who already follow me.

I’ve written before about “have to” versus “get to”. Replace “have to” with “get to” for an immediate bump of enthusiasm for the thing you’re privileged to “get to” do, while also knowing that, to have any chance to paying for recording and manufacturing costs, you really do “have to”…

If I don’t do these things, I have to accept that my success will always be limited by my efforts, or lack of efforts. To flip the name of this blog: if I do nothing, nothing will happen.

It’s frustrating to expend so much energy on something and then so quickly feel like the tennis ball I’ve thrust so hopefully out into the universe has not fallen onto tarmac, but morphed into a small beanbag and got stuck in a sandpit.

It didn’t even bounce once.

I used to get excited right before an album release, thinking about all the fun ways it could change my life. This time next year I could be booked for festivals! Maybe a brilliant independent label will want to release the next album! I could have money in the bank! Other artists might want me to sing/play/produce their songs! A sync agent could track me down and give me incredible opportunities!

I don’t entertain those thoughts any more, and maybe that’s a bit sad, but it’s not because I’m jaded or bitter. I just know, seven albums in, that gradual, sustainable growth is better for my career and for my nervous system. The more times I do this bonkers thing the more I see it’s about keeping going, not about having a big win that supposedly changes everything.

I don’t want to change everything. I love my life, my relationship, my home, the ways I get to spend my days. It took a long time to get here. I built this myself, over many years.

However, I truly believe “House Of Stories” is my best, most heartfelt and accomplished album yet. I feel so much responsibility to try and get that bloody ball to bounce that it can only be my fault when it doesn’t.

It’s overwhelming, and the second-guessing stops me in my tracks. I can’t be the only one who wants to try, who wants to plan their way out of this feeling, but ends up doing nothing instead. I am paralysed by indecision, and I hate it.

I ponder the whole ridiculous enterprise. Is everything online just there to advertise something else? Are we all just making more and more things, then cutting smaller things out of the big things so we can point fingers at our other things, at ourselves? Am I just a big pointing finger pointing indirectly at my album? Am I supposed to be wearing a sandwich board at all times?

No thanks.

This is not about algorithms or supposed shadow bans. I’m fully sold on the potentially infinite rewards of the internet, not just because I have made my full time living from it for the past six years but because I got my first email address in 1997, started blogging in 2004, joined Twitter and YouTube in 2007 and have never stopped seeing The Internet as an exciting new frontier. A Superhighway, if you will.

And so I do blame myself when nothing much happens after a full year of posting 1-2 videos per week on YouTube. I must have done it wrong.

I can see the huge potential of TikTok for music discovery, but can’t figure out what captions to put at the start of my clips, so I post them anyway and nothing happens. I must have done that wrong too.

How can I get it right? How can I get this fucking ball to bounce?

At lunch with some experienced music industry folk in Naples, the topic turns to TikTok. I am asked whether I feel pressure to make videos for TikTok, whether I feel like I can’t keep up. I talk about how excited I am to have access to these tools and all the others. I’ve always felt that way. That doesn’t mean I have the time to do all the things I want, but I believe in what I make and I believe there are ways to get those things to people in a way that works for both parties. I don’t known what they are, but I know I want to keep trying.

I just don’t know what to do next. Since “House Of Stories” came out I have become the beanbag stuck in the sandpit.

10th June
Penfriend Ink, Nottingham, UK

Back home, I make lists of the same old things and find myself unable to do anything about ticking those boxes. I create a new ideal weekly schedule: time out aside each day for sharing my existing work and making new things.

I ignore that too.

Life happens. My Gran dies in her sleep aged 95, six days after my last visit.

I become obsessed with tasks that have a clear visual start and end. I clear up my overgrown garden. I attach the willow screening I bought an entire year ago to the broken fence. I disassemble piles of things in every room, order nine Kallax units of various configurations to finally give me the storage I need across two workspaces and the spare (merch) room. I finally find a space for my teen cassette collection.

Is this burnout, bereavement or both?

Finally, I feel ready to think about music again. Renewing my workspace has brought new energy. It finally feels like the right time to delve into the nerdy world of synthesis, to make the very most of the strange, beautiful instruments I started collecting during the pandemic. I’m ready to experiment again. I’m ready to start looking ahead.

Maybe I’ve just been trying to play the wrong ball game. Maybe, instead of bouncing a tennis ball away from me, hoping it will gather momentum, I just need to keep the ball in the air.

Andy J Pizza’s excellent podcast “Creative Pep Talk” has been a constant guide and friendly companion since I discovered it in 2019, and in a recent episode Andy addressed exactly this issue:

“It’s easy to play the game of being creative like it’s something to win, but in my experience that will only get you so far. Creativity is less like a game to win, and much more like a game of “Keepy Uppy”.

This game can be played alone or with friends, and the point is to keep a balloon from touching the ground, by gently hitting it up into the air.

Unlike most games, the point of Keepy Uppy isn’t to win, the point of the game is to keep playing. The point is to play in such a way, that you keep the game going for as long as possible.”

Thank you, Andy. So wise, always.

This week’s attempt to keep the ball in the air looks like this:

What ball/s are you trying to keep in the air? See you in the comments.

Love,
Laura xxx

Thank you for visiting!

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Five and a half years later…I’m not “back”

by Laura Kidd Essays Letterbox Live performances Mindfulness Music News Process

Last Saturday 31^st May I played my songs on a stage in front of people for the first time in 5.5 years – and it didn’t feel like I thought it would.

Between 2005 and 2019 I played around 600 shows as a solo artist, usually completely alone but occasionally with a backing band. Sometimes supporting artists you’ve heard of, often putting on my own nights and championing bands I liked.

Before and alongside that I toured the world as a hired bassist and vocalist for artists including Tricky, Viv Albertine, Lil’ Chris, The Penelopes and Alex Parks. I went on Top Of The Pops with A-Ha. I toured Italian piazzas with Duncan James from Blue.

I have played a LOT of gigs in my life: some amazing, uplifting, life-affirming; some upsettingly bad, why-on-earth-am-I-doing-this-to-myself affairs. At the end of 2019 I wanted to stop. I needed to stop.

When you can’t find the joy in the thing you thought you wanted to do more than anything in the world, it’s time to take a big step back.

Oh hi, burnout!

Touring used to be a huge part of my identity. From 2005 onwards I loved being on the road. I hated routine, I’d routinely say, and loved being somewhere different every day. I loved the unique communities that gelled together for one night only, I loved sharing my music with people and occasionally hearing them singing along.

I loved the heroism of playing to a cold room of another band’s fans, winning them over usually by around song three of my set. Some rooms were colder than others, but I always got at least a handful of people interested, sometimes a lot more, and the feeling I got when that wave turned was addictive.

When I was hired to play for other artists, I loved supporting their vision by contributing to the sound of the band on stage. I loved being paid for my musical skills, and calling music my job.

I loved ticking off every single country on my “list of countries I’d like to visit one day” without having to pay for a single flight myself, and I loved the surprised respect I garnered from people when they heard who I was playing for, or saw me pop up on TV.

I remember watching as other musicians I knew gave up life on the road. One by one they chose a steady job, getting married, having children. I knew I didn’t want the latter, and didn’t expect I’d ever have the option of the other two.

I didn’t understand why someone would choose to turn their back on what they loved.

I couldn’t comprehend that they might have fallen out of love with it.

I didn’t think I ever could.

2019 did it. A grind of support slots with largely disinterested audiences. Saying yes to things that made no sense (£50 slots 4 hours drive from home, no potential audience crossover). Unfriendly slash downright rude headline bands. An entirely avoidable driving incident that cost me more than I made on the entire tour.

I needed a rest. I had already decided my first solo project She Makes War had to end, so I started to wind everything down. One last solo headline show. One last band headline show (sold out!). One last tour with my friend Robin Ince: a truly life-affirming, lovely experience.

And then we had a worldwide pandemic.

My new Penfriend project was scheduled to launch on 1^st May 2020, featuring a host of online and remote physical elements: my Correspondent’s Club membership, quarterly music and zine bundles, regular blog posts, regular livestreams, a podcast series and a new YouTube channel. I hadn’t started thinking about gigs or tours. I didn’t want to.

When it became clear it wasn’t safe to perform live, I chucked the idea of it away entirely. I didn’t miss it. My identity shifted away from fearless road warrior with chaotic home life towards thoughtful creative practitioner, building routines that nourished my work and allowed me to give so much more to my community than random support slots could.

In March 2021 I made internet waves one Monday evening with a video about why I wouldn’t be touring that year either. I made it to encourage others to really think about the consequences of their actions, and the majority of people commenting thanked me for saying what they’d been thinking.

I thought gathering people in a small room was reckless. I couldn’t stomach the idea of being the reason people got ill. I didn’t want 150 people breathing in my direction for a minute, let alone the entirety of my set. I knew there were other ways I could continue to show up for my music-and-community-starved audience, so I kept doing that.

And then the years rolled by, as they do, and I kept making and sharing albums. Without the distraction, exhaustion and expense of gigging and touring, I was able to make more things to last: more music, more videos, more connections with people all around the world.

I kept playing livestreams when they went out of vogue (having started playing them in 2014, way before they were in vogue), commuting up to my attic in my slippers to say hi to people across the globe, sharing music, time and space.

As musicians, we’re supposed to want to do certain things, and we’re supposed to go along with things that don’t entirely make sense because they’re supposedly good for our careers, or are the logical next step towards what we’re supposed to want to achieve.

If we don’t do these things, there are people waiting online to enthusiastically badger us about doing them.

“When’s the tour?”

“Get on tour”

“Can’t wait to see this live!”

These are all compliments, I know that. I am fortunate to have people requesting my presence on stage. Thank you for the compliment.

But I will continue to push back against the idea that creating music from thin air, crafting it into songs and soundscapes and finding fun ways to share them in beautiful physical formats isn’t enough without a live performance of those songs on exactly the right night, in the right location, at the right price for those demanding a gig.

After “One In A Thousand” came out in 2023, whenever someone asked me why I wasn’t touring now the worst of the pandemic was over, my go-to answer was “because I can’t afford it”.

This was, unfortunately, true. More importantly, I didn’t want to. And I kept not wanting to right up until the moment in early 2025 that I annoyed myself so much with the “touring is too expensive” mantra that I decided to do one local show the day before my 44^th birthday.

When I started performing my own music live in 2005 I vowed to keep things sustainable: that’s why I played so many shows completely solo. No additional musicians, no crew, just me. I loved being self sufficient. For years I revelled in fitting a little guitar amp, pedals and a megaphone in one rolling suitcase and stuffing my merch in another, arriving at venues to comments like “are you going on holiday?” then doing a Mary Poppins and pulling weird item after weird item out of my bag at soundcheck.

In early 2025, on the cusp of releasing my third album in my new Penfriend era, it started to seem ridiculous and a little churlish to keep refusing to share my songs in a room with people who wanted to enjoy them.

I decided that if I couldn’t sell enough tickets to a local show to cover costs and pay myself and anyone else involved, I would know it was the end for me and venue gigs. If people didn’t want the tickets I was selling, I would take the hint. No hard feelings. Let the fans decide.

The fans decided.

Due to my garbage streaming numbers, no promoter wanted to take a risk on me. They refused to take my chart positions or my 10K mailing list into account. So just like the good old days I hired the venue myself – thank you, Rough Trade Nottingham!

The gig sold out in about a week – thank you, music fans!

I sold all but 10 of the tickets through my email list and online shop, so no marketing budget was needed – thank you, email list!

My husband ticked everyone off as they came through the door and handed them an envelope full of goodies: a signed souvenir ticket, stickers and a flyer – thank you, Tim!

To ward off the solo artist blues of yore I hired my friend Carol Hodge to accompany me on keys and vocals for most of my set, and she also supported me with her own gorgeous music and played a stunner as usual – thank you, Carol!

All that remained was to play the show.

My main concern was that nerves would overtake me at the crucial moment, ruining my weeks of prep and rehearsal, making me look a fool in front of 150 fans of my music, disappointing them, myself and everyone in the vicinity.

Oh hi, imposter syndrome!

I had a big think about it. I decided my main job on the day was to stay as calm and present as possible. I was to go into gig day with no expectations of greatness or abject rubbishness. I would be a worthy human standing amongst other worthy humans, exchanging energy. That would be enough. (Though I still wanted to be able to play my songs well.)

I did it. I played well. I exchanged energy. I stayed present. When the generous applause came my way, I didn’t turn away or crouch down to fiddle with a guitar pedal like I used to. I stood in quiet gratitude, accepting the audience’s thanks.

It didn’t feel like I thought it would. I didn’t get an adrenaline rush. I didn’t feel nervous on stage. It felt comfortable. It felt good.

I couldn’t have asked for a more attentive, open-hearted audience. When they started singing along at the end of my first song “Scared To Capsize” (a SMW set-closing classic), I knew we were embarking on something special together. The singing along didn’t stop for the rest of my set. They laughed, they applauded, they played along with all of it. I felt held, supported, encouraged and loved. Thank you so much.

And afterwards? A quiet satisfaction. A glow. A midnight burger because we didn’t have chance to eat dinner before the show (some things never change). No plans for bigger better more more MORE. Just gratitude.

Saturday night was a big moment, but all the things I’ve created since I stopped touring in 2019 have more than filled any potential void. Perhaps playing venue gigs will become something I do a few times a year. Perhaps one of my musical heroes will invite me out on tour with them. I’m more open to it after last week’s gig, but where in my former life as She Makes War I jumped at every opportunity (often living to regret my haste), Penfriend is far more discerning.

Some people have commented that it’s great to see I’m “back”. I’m not “back” – I never went away.

I have four more self-promoted Penfriend shows this year, and no live plans whatsoever yet for 2026.

Get your tickets and exclusive tour tee direct from me here.
Support at all shows is from the fabulous Carol Hodge.

Wednesday 17th September
MANCHESTER – The Lodge @ Deaf Institute

Thursday 18th September
BRISTOL – Rough Trade

Wednesday 24th September
LONDON – The Grace (formerly Upstairs at The Garage)

Thursday 25th September
BIRMINGHAM – Hare & Hounds

Love,
Laura xxx

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Like a ton of bricks on my head

by Laura Kidd Letterbox

I asked: the universe answered

Consistency is a word I consistently think about. Consistency is something I want to aim for, am intimidated by, have occasionally attained and maintained before falling off the horse yet again. Consistency in writing words and music, in communicating with fans of my music, in making videos and podcast episodes. It can feel like the key to success – which means I only have myself to blame if I stumble. It can be maddening. But it can give me great hope. Maybe some of this is under my control.

In my last piece I asked “What do I do now”…now that my album is out, now that the adrenaline has spiked and now that the world’s attention has moved on to the next person’s new and exciting thing.

This blog is called “Do Stuff ∴ Stuff Happens” (the ∴ sign means “therefore”). In my experience, the minute I stop sending things out into the world, almost all feedback stops: sales, emails, comments. I’m feeling that particularly acutely at the moment. It’s only been 5 weeks and 6 days since “House Of Stories” came out, and it feels like I imagined the whole thing.

2.5 weeks ago, in the interests of creating my own momentum again, I returned from my holiday in Naples with a new “ideal week” schedule in my calendar and set myself to work. I got back to the gym. I started running again after many moons. I did yoga. I meditated. I wrote 1000 words every morning. I started my tax return. I spent a satisfying day clearing my very overgrown garden and planning some home improvements. I plotted future music releases. I started prepping for my first gig in 5.5 years (2 days from now). I made a list of all the videos I want to make. I felt frazzled, but not aimless. I hate feeling aimless.

And then I got the news. My Gran had died in her sleep. She was 95.

Six days before that call, I visited her in her care home and we hung out for a few hours in her room. We ate sandwiches cut into triangles (she pulled her nose up at the cheese ones and offered them to me), had tea and biscuits (she picked out one Jammie Dodger), and chatted about this and that. She told me she was 85, and I didn’t correct her – I’m not a monster.

She said “Everything is heavy now” while she was lifting her teacup, but merrily ate her lunchtime ice cream. I held the bowl up for her so it wouldn’t drip.

“That’s a good idea”, she said. I felt helpful.

It was another ordinary visit – except that for the first time ever I didn’t get to say “goodbye”.

I didn’t know it was going to be our last visit.

After years of fierce independence, my Gran had been in and out of hospital for 2-3 years with varying degrees of drama. During these times I always made sure to thank her, tell her I loved her, make sure she knew how inspiring she was to me and how glad I was she was still with us. I sat by so many hospital beds I lost count, folded into all sorts of painful postures over the hard plastic so I could lean over to hold her hand, give her a neck massage, file her nails, moisturise her hands, put dry shampoo in her hair, hold up cups, bottles, straws, bowls, whatever she needed. Always careful not to force my help, infantilise, reduce. Sometimes she needed my help, sometimes she didn’t. I wanted her to know she could always have it. I think she did.

This is what we do for each other.

I often tried to imagine what it must be like for her, having held me as a baby, watching me grow and change over the years, now seeing this woman in her 40s show up in all these different places. When she looked at me did she see the blonde baby, the blossoming teen, the independent 20-year old, 30-year old, 40-year old? When she looked at my face, was it a blur of memories?

When I arrived for our last visit Gran wasn’t in her room. It was like that scene in the movie where the relative arrives just too late to see their loved one – but nothing bad had happened, she was just hanging out in the lounge with the other residents. I sat down and waited. When the cheerful orderly wheeled her in, Gran smiled and said “I knew it would be you”. I felt proud, but also relieved – every time I went to see her I braced myself for the possibility she wouldn’t know who I was. I feel so fortunate that never happened.

Gran wasn’t particularly chatty that day, but neither was I. Exhausted from travelling home from Italy the day before, then driving 2 hours from Nottingham, I sat quietly, hoping Gran would agree our long silences were companionable ones.

Sometimes I found it hard to think of things to say. When she moved into the care home at the start of the year I hoped a whole new topic of conversation would open up: “You’ll never guess what so-and-so said!”, “That singer they had the other day was great/good/rubbish” – that sort of thing. But it didn’t happen – or at least she didn’t share those stories with me.

We usually talked about her exciting past growing up on the canal boats in Runcorn, walking with Tommy the horse as he pulled the family and their cargo along the water. Her face always lit up when I asked questions about her time living in Hong Kong, Malaya (as it was known when she lived there) and Cyprus with my Grandad Chris (who she survived by 34 years), my Mum and my Auntie.

On this day, she squinted and gestured towards my armfuls of tattoos.

“Are those for life?”

“Yes, Gran.” I rolled my eyes in the same funny way she liked rolling hers, and she smiled.

We talked about the tattoo she was going to get one day, a running jokey conversation that started a few years ago during a visit my sister and I made together.

“Come on then, what tattoo are you going to get?” I asked.

She didn’t hesitate. “A butterfly.”

“Very cool.”

“I’m not ready to give up yet”, she added.

“I’m very pleased to hear it”, I said.

Every time I said “Bye Gran, I love you” she would grab my hand and hold it tightly. She did this as far back as I can remember. It was a thing. She did it to everyone she liked – I have a vivid memory of her doing it to my brother’s handsome schoolfriend in the mid ‘90s. She’d grab on and say “I love you very much” and you’d have to gently pull your hand away, then wave all the way to the door, or the car. She would always stand at her front door, waving and waving.

On this day, I went to get a status update from the care home manager to pass on to my Mum. We had a good chat, and I thanked her and the team for everything they were doing to keep my Gran safe and comfortable.

When I got back to her room she wasn’t there – again. I noticed her mobile phone wasn’t working, and that the charger had gone missing – again. I drove to the local shopping centre and picked out a baby pink one, mostly because Gran liked pink things but because I thought it would be less borrow-able / steal-able. To seal the deal I wrote her name on it in gold Sharpie.

I went back to the home. She was still living it up in the lounge – no visitors allowed there. I put the charger next to her bed and plugged her phone in.

“That was a good visit”, I thought as I drove away.

No fuss. No drama. No big goodbyes. Just love.

Always love.

I scheduled last week’s “What do I do now?” post a full week before it was published, in a flurry of creativity, productivity and consistency.

When I asked that question, I didn’t know the answer would come down on me like a ton of bricks.

What do I do now?

I cry. I write. I talk to my family. I remember snippets of conversations from 44 years of being loved by someone who isn’t here any more. I cry some more. I declutter every room in my house in a frenzy because I can’t focus on anything else for more than a few minutes. (I find a card from her tucked down the side of a shelf while doing so, and cry again.) I feel really stupid about that one bratty thing I remember saying to her when I was a teenager. I feel glad I got all those hours with her in hospitals and A&E departments to have the conversations that don’t usually happen in calm living rooms. I remember that it’s my birthday on Sunday and for the first time ever she won’t be thinking about me. I listen to podcasts about processing emotion. I force myself to exercise every morning so I allow myself to feel worse than I already do. I remember our last shopping trip together (her last shopping trip ever) when all she wanted was a Greggs sausage roll and to walk systematically up and down every aisle at TK Maxx looking at every item and enjoying its existence in the world. I wake in the mornings feeling angry, or sad, or both. I worry that I’ll forget her voice, and kick myself for being too shy to ask if we could record some of her stories, years ago, before all the hospital beds. I feel relieved that I don’t have any regrets, and lucky that I got to spend a few more normal hours with her in the last week of her time on this planet. I miss her.

I feel proud that I turned up so consistently for her over the past few years and created a new, deeper relationship with her. I didn’t plan it, I just kept trying to do what I thought was right.

I’m so glad I did.

So, what do I do now? I keep trying to do little things that matter, allowing the sadness to overtake me and flow through my body. I remember her, and I feel so lucky.

Last Thursday I went and got her butterfly tattoo. No regrets.

Yes Gran, these are for life.

Love you forever.
Laura xxx

Huge thanks Helaina at Rest In Pieces Tattoo in Nottingham for the beautiful tattoos and a lovely calm afternoon x

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What Do I Do Now? (I thought I had it sorted)

by Laura Kidd Creativity Letterbox Mindfulness Process

On Friday 25^th April 2025 my seventh solo album “House Of Stories” reached #2 in the Official UK Independent Albums Chart.

I recorded and released the album from my attic home studio The Launchpad in Nottingham through emails, social media posts and Facebook ads. No manager/label/press/radio.

This sort of thing shouldn’t really be possible. Music fans are absolutely amazing.

The next day I walked out of an art workshop in floods of tears and stood by a lake watching a Eurasian Coot dive for treasure to make a nest with. The plucky little bird dove and dove, bringing up all sorts of interesting bits and bobs clasped in its beak. A slice of slippery algae, bright green; a thin branch three times its width; a clot of unidentified mush dripping with water. Sure in its choices, the bird added each new piece of treasure to a floating mass, then swam away in a big circle, returning to dive – collect – add, dive – collect – add.

I was fully aware of the metaphor at the time, but it didn’t get me back inside the building.

I wasn’t ready to dive back into my memories to create a map for an art workshop, however engaging and fun the facilitator was (and she was), and however supportive the environment was (and it was). The well was empty of stories; I had only tears to give.

I didn’t want to make a scene, so I left quietly to cry it out, calm down and return to class. But I couldn’t calm down, and I couldn’t return.

Younger Me would have been horribly embarrassed; Current Day Me knows when she’s in the wrong place and gets out as fast as possible, as politely as possible. Current Day Me does not hide the tears. Current Day Me cannot hide the tears.

The Sleeper song “What Do I Do Now?” popped into my head when I started thinking about writing this, even though only the title is relevant. It’s a brilliant song, much loved to this day by me, but I’m lucky that being stuck in a bad or confusing relationship is not my current experience.

Gratitude is a helpful emotion to centre at times like these.

My current experience is a mix of emotions. I’m not trying too hard to figure it out; it feels smarter to just let the feelings wash over and through me while trying to get back into good healthy habits and making semi-sensible plans for future creativity.

I don’t know if there are any songs about this particular feeling of post-big-project comedown, because whenever I’m in one I’m not really up for writing a song about it and, later on, in reflective songwriting mood, I can already project that I will find the topic far too mundane / indulgent / entitled to reference.

After the Big Chart News I had some dinner at home and went to bed. I had been sleeping terribly in the weeks leading up to the album release, which is very unusual for me, and that may have influenced what happened with the art workshop and the incessant crying.

I felt much better when the requirement to suddenly create something new was removed. Tim took me home and we sat on the sofa together. The following week we went on holiday to Naples, and had our minds blown by the busy, colourful, gritty city.

Now I’m back, somewhat rested, and I have to keep going. Because that’s the goal.

I make music and share it so I can keep making music. I make videos and I write to share my experiences as part of my creative practice, which is what drives me to continue making music.

It’s weird how you can focus so intensely on something for so long – in this case a full year, pretty much – and then it feels so suddenly over and done with. The album only came out four weeks ago, and it did really, amazingly well, but now it feels like there’s zero interest in the new songs, everyone’s moved on to something else, and I have to quickly summon up new things to share.

Of course I don’t have to do anything¹ – but as an artist I get to do whatever I feel like doing. And that’s a gift, and I am grateful.

I last wrote a new song last July – “Space, Man”. I don’t want to let it be a full year til I write another one. So, I won’t!

It’s time to don the lab coat again for musical experiments. And this is where you will hear them first.

And if you haven’t heard “House Of Stories” yet, I made this nerdy microsite to introduce it to you.

Thank you for reading.

Love,
Laura xxx

I mean, I do – this dream job is my only job, and I have to continually figure out how to keep making ends meet, and that’s not always a given – but in this context I mean no-one is forcing me to make songs or market them and it’s a great privilege to get to do so x ↩︎

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16 days til I give it another shot…

by Laura Kidd Letterbox Music News

When I quit touring at the end of 2019, I never expected my break to last this long.

Burned out from 10 years of solo performing, always being the driver/roadie/merch person, often being the promoter and sometimes even taking tickets on the door, I needed a rest. I ended my She Makes War project, made plans to launch Penfriend and recorded my new songs alone in my attic in Bristol for the first time.

Then life, the universe and everything happened. You know all about that.

In 16 days I will be treading the boards again after 5 years and 5 months of doing other things.

In those 5 years and 5 months I recorded and released three albums, 50 podcast episodes and 316 videos, performed countless livestreams and released the same number of live albums. I have no regrets, and this time last year I had no intention of playing in venues again.

But then it started niggling at me. Yes, touring is expensive and difficult, and even well-known bands are finally talking about these issues in the media (thank you, Kate Nash). But in 2005, when I first started playing my songs at little gigs in London, I vowed to always keep things sustainable.

In those early years I toured the country on the Megabus and took a steam train to a ferry port to get to a gig in Dartmouth supporting Midge Ure. I started putting my own shows on so I could pay the support bands properly as well as myself.

Over the 14 years of performing as She Makes War I played nearly 600 gigs, and supported artists including Tune-Yards, Nadine Shah, Juliana Hatfield, Gruff Rhys (Super Furry Animals), Frank Turner, Suede, Carina Round (Puscifer), The Levellers, Duke Special, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Filthy Friends. When I look back at all that – wow, what a ride.

There are so many reasons not to do things, but eventually I came back to the reason I started performing live in the first place: to celebrate the freedom I have to make up whatever music I like, sharing it with independently-minded music fans who aren’t ruled by trends and spending time in a room with those very people who support it so enthusiastically and so generously.

So…I decided it was time to hire some of my favourite small venues, sell the tickets myself and bring you the very best, most immersive and interesting live experience I’m capable of.

People have been asking if I’m nervous about my first gig back. Not at all. I’m not saying I won’t be enveloped in a wave of butterflies and nausea before going on stage, and I have no idea what it will feel like to hear actual applause after a song instead of the stony silence of a livestream, but this feels more intentional than any batch of shows I’ve done in the past.

And if it all goes well, who knows what I’ll plan for next year…

If you’re free on Saturday 31^st May, there are just THREE return tickets left for my show upstairs at Rough Trade Nottingham: https://shop.penfriend.rocks/products/31st-may-2025-gig-ticket-penfriend-live-in-nottingham

Clearly I’ll be exhausted after playing one gig after so long (!), so I’ll be taking a three month break before playing the following (tickets are 60% sold out!):

17^th September – MANCHESTER – The Lodge @ Deaf Institute

18^th September – BRISTOL – Rough Trade

24^th September – LONDON – The Grace (formerly Upstairs at The Garage)

25^th September – BIRMINGHAM – Hare & Hounds

** GET TICKETS: https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/tickets

Tickets are best available direct from me, with gorgeous tour tees designed by Beth Jeans Houghton aka Du Blonde also available to pre-order.

These ace tees are available to all, even if you can’t attend the shows! https://shop.penfriend.rocks/products/exclusive-pre-tour-tee

I’m thrilled to announce that Carol Hodge will be supporting at all five shows. I love her music and can’t wait to watch her show every night before playing mine.

If you’re new to her world: “Carol is an existential-flavoured, piano-pounding, Yorkshire-dwelling solo artist. Think Victoria Wood meets Nick Cave. You won’t know whether to laugh or cry at her live shows, but will definitely feel something.

When she’s not performing the length and breadth of the UK either solo or with the inventively named The Carol Hodge Band, you can find Carol on keys and vocals with Steve Ignorant (Crass) and The Wildhearts.”

** Carol is offering you a FREE CD here, go go go: https://www.carolhodge.co.uk/freecdoffer

What an immense privilege it is to write to you, to share songs with you, and to share the same air. Thank you.

And…if you can’t make it to the shows, I have this nerdy treat for you instead: https://penfriend.rocks/house-of-stories

Have a wonderful day.

Love,
Laura xxx

PS remember when me and Rhian from Wet Leg supported Tune-Yards in 2015? It takes a long time to become an overnight success…

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The chart results are in –

by Laura Kidd House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Process

As I type these words, the results are in. It’s 5.51pm and I’ve been ignoring the internet all day, knowing that at some point a number will be assigned to my new album. It may well have been published somewhere online already, or is about to be.

So I thought I’d write to you before I read that number. Because, as I wrote to my Correspondent’s Club members this morning:

“We are not defined by things outside our control but by what we put into the world and how we carry ourselves. And I feel good about both of those things today.”

HUGEST thank you for your support and encouragement not only in this hectic week of album releasing, but since you first came across my work. It makes a huge difference knowing I have a friendly group of music fans to share my songs, words and videos with. You are appreciated.

Whatever numbers I read in a few minutes won’t change my belief in the album I shared with you last Friday, and the energy I have for continuing to create experiences around the songs on “House Of Stories”.

As I sang in “Emotional Tourist”: “I’m not finished”.

An album release is a new beginning, not just for those songs starting to find their homes in peoples’ lives and hearts, but for me to start the second hero’s journey of sharing them with people outside this lovely circle.

If you fancy helping me with that, I’ve created a webpage which gathers the album, videos and blog posts all in one handy place to easily share it with new people: http://penfriend.rocks/house-of-stories

Thank you!

Last time I put a record out (in 2023) it took so much out of me that I slumped into a long period where I didn’t write anything new. I’m not letting that happen this time.

Earlier this week I started excavating my piano from being surrounded by boxes of junk, and this morning I got myself set up to receive musical messages again. It feels good.

“Keep the channel open”, said Martha Graham. Too right.

I’m excited to keep sharing my new album “House Of Stories” with you in fun and creative ways over the coming weeks and months, but alongside that I’m commencing experiments for solo album 7.

Channel open. Let’s go x

Drum roll please…

“House Of Stories” is:

#2 in the Independent Albums Chart
#2 in the Downloads Chart
#4 in the Album Sales Chart
#10 in the CD Albums Chart
#11 in the Vinyl Albums Chart
#11 in the Scottish Albums Chart
#74 in the Official Albums Chart

And…it’s the fourth-highest charting new entry this week.

Wow.

THANK YOU. You did this!

Now: go and have a lovely weekend. You deserve it.

Love,
Laura xxx

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This is what your copy looks like :)

by Laura Kidd House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Process

No, your local record shop does NOT have copies of my new album!

The ONLY place you can get “House Of Stories” on vinyl, CDs and KiT is my shop: https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

I’ve had several messages this week from people who want to support their local independent record shop and buy “House Of Stories” there – a lovely idea! – but in this case please support your local independent artist and buy direct from me

WHY LAURA, WHYYYYY???

Between 2018 and 2024 I did have my records in shops, placed there through a distributor, but due to limited space it’s super competitive trying to get them to stock even 1 or 2 copies…plus they obviously have to charge quite a lot for stocking it and selling it to you.

Printing beautiful vinyl costs me £££££, so the whole thing just wasn’t working out – especially when you were hearing about the records direct from me in the first place!

As a 100% independent artist with no job or funding outside of direct-to-fan record sales and my subscription club, I do everything I can to create beautiful music and merch collections to give the best experience of my work possible, while also paying for everything to be made in the first place. Without pre-orders for “House Of Stories”, there would have been no vinyl, no CDs, no anything else.

Last year I made the decision to quit my physical distribution deal and go back to only selling my music direct. Hello there!

WHY NOW???

All physical sales made by 7.30pm today count towards the Official UK Albums Chart result tomorrow, and all digital purchases made until 23:59 also count BUT ONLY IF YOU DOWNLOAD YOUR DOWNLOADS.

Thank you so much for supporting “House Of Stories”.

Next…would you consider forwarding this to a friend?

Love and huge thanks,
Laura xxx

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#28 in the Official UK Midweek Albums Chart!

by Laura Kidd House Of Stories Letterbox Music News

WHOAH. “My new album is “House Of Stories” is #28 in the Official UK Midweek Albums Chart.

And my name is mentioned casually alongside Taylor Swift, Doechii and Hawkwind in this news piece…

Thank you, amazing music fans!!!!!

This is my fourth midweek chart placement, and each time I marvel at how these albums I write and produce myself and release from my house via email and social media posts have sat amongst some of the biggest names in pop.

I mean…hi Elton and Brandi Carlile! I LOVE YOUR MUSIC. You met through a letter? That’s very fun. You’re PENFRIENDS too!

It’s even more amazing when you look at the numbers – if today’s chart was based on album sales (not streams), “House Of Stories” would be #4 today. NUMBER FOUR.

Oh hi Taylor Swift, greetings again Sir Elton, and hello Hawkwind! 37 studio albums….RESPECT.

It would bring me great joy to see my name in the pop charts at the end of this week, but what’s way more important is to acknowledge and appreciate the outpouring of love and support for this new collection of songs.

THANK YOU. None of this happens without YOU.

Music isn’t a competition. “House Of Stories” is my best album yet, and I’m so proud to share it with you.

If you don’t have your copy yet, it’s a great day to grab yours from my shop! Choose from four beautiful vinyl colours, CDs and KiT box sets. I’ve even made 3- and 5-CD bundles in case you’d like to give the gift of Penfriend to your friends

https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

LOW STOCK WARNING

* 75 signed vinyl left! https://shop.penfriend.rocks/products/house-of-stories-stripey-tights-vinyl-download-1

* 11 signed CDs left! https://shop.penfriend.rocks/products/house-of-stories-signed-cd-download-1

* 37 hardback books left! https://shop.penfriend.rocks/products/hard-back-photo-and-lyrics-book

Thanks so much for being here, you’re quite clearly my Top of the Pops.

Love,
Laura xxx

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“In The Light Sometimes” – Penfriend

by Laura Kidd House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Releases Singles

Your copy of my new album “House Of Stories” is waiting for you here, now shipping worldwide: https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

The album is available on super limited edition vinyl colours, signed CD and KiT hybrid digital format, with tees, hoodies and hardback books to accompany the music
https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

VIDEO CREDITS
Directed, shot and edited by Laura Kidd in The Launchpad, Nottingham.

SONG CREDITS
Written, produced, performed, and recorded by Laura Kidd in The Launchpad, Nottingham.
Mixed by Chris Sheldon. Mastered by Katie Tavini.

HUGEST THANKS to The Correspondent’s Club. I can’t do this without you xxx

TYPEWRITER CREDITS
My beloved collection *currently* consists of:

Brother Deluxe 750TR (my first – a gift from my Grandad in the mid ’80s)
Olympia SM9 Olivetti Lettera 32
Adler Tippa S
Hermes Media 3 (French AZERTY version!)
Olympia SM3 (custom rose gold finish)

LYRICS

Cradling grudges I’ll grip til the end
Biting my tongue cos forever will mend
Keeping the peace with inscrutable men
Never again

In the light sometimes I fall to pieces
In the light sometimes
In the light sometimes

Grinding up gravel to spit at the sun
Simple affection can never return
Swallow my secrets
Protecting my home
Building my own

In the light sometimes I fall to pieces
In the dark sometimes I can’t believe it
You think I forgive you but I never mean it
In the light sometimes
In the light sometimes

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Warning: my legs and feet are visible in this video!

by Laura Kidd Creativity House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Process

Thoughts about stepping back – literally…

During the pandemic I remember reading an article about how one of the ways living in close proximity was changing peoples’ relationships was the lack of literal perspective. Standing close to loved ones all the time, rarely getting a chance to step back and see them as a whole person. It has an effect.

I’ve been pondering this while making and sharing music videos for my new album this year. I make my own videos: setting up lights, tripod and everything else I need to shoot, doing my best to make my weird and wonderful ideas come to life on screen, then editing them afterwards.

That’s what I do when I make music, too. “House Of Stories” is thoughtful, personal and completely me (and I can’t wait for you to hear it!) https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

It’s well-discussed that working with constraints makes you more creative. 3 minutes to tell a story in sound and song. Small budgets, basic equipment, small spaces. Using only what you already have.

But it can be hard to get the feet and legs in. It can be hard to show the full person.

“Emotional Tourist” was shot in my front room, in front of a variety of backdrops. I set the camera up behind my armchair to get a decent shot, but didn’t want to show the mess on both sides, plus my backdrop didn’t go down to the ground. No feet shots possible. Dagnabbit.

I tried to change this for “Space, Man”, hiring a studio in town so I could put the camera a bit further back. But the backdrop wasn’t wide enough again, so you didn’t get to see the white socks I wore to match my inflatable space rocket. I tried.

While filming for “The Life Of The Party”, there was a weird issue with the stage lighting. I couldn’t figure out why it was giving me a totally blue, blown-out face if the camera was set back too far.

If I was calmly filming someone else I might have been able to work it out; dressed in a party frock grasping a ukulele, I did what I always do…my best.

For “In The Light Sometimes” I decided to show the whole picture.

Last summer I spent 54 days in my attic home studio, The Launchpad, recording my new album “House Of Stories”. I decided to show the whole space; the constraints I turned into creativity.

It was only after I hung my new action camera off the attic latch for the top-down shot that I realised my feet would be on video for once. And, though my slipper game is STRONG, I decided to be dead posh for once and change into some nice shoes for the occasion.

This song makes me cry. I hope you enjoy the video.

“House Of Stories” is now shipping worldwide!

You can get your copy on vinyl, CD or KiT box set direct from me, with hardback story and lyric books, hoodies and tees also available.

Digital downloads are available from the “Downloads” tab in my shop too.

This album is not on streaming, and is not available from any record shops or online retailers.

This is 100% independently made and released music, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting what I do.

Love,
Laura xxx

PS watch the non-feety-leggy music videos here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjSzokSHVfQ2rSPH0Lq47f9UQXfudtWBp

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Author: Laura Kidd

If creativity is a ball game, am I playing the wrong one?

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Five and a half years later…I’m not “back”

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Like a ton of bricks on my head

I asked: the universe answered

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What Do I Do Now? (I thought I had it sorted)

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16 days til I give it another shot…

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The chart results are in –

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This is what your copy looks like :)

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#28 in the Official UK Midweek Albums Chart!

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“In The Light Sometimes” – Penfriend

LYRICS

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Warning: my legs and feet are visible in this video!

“House Of Stories” is now shipping worldwide!

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