Last Wednesday I released “Emotional Tourist”, my first new song in two years and the first single from my seventh solo album “House Of Stories”.
It’s like this:
Fierce, wonky and unapologetic, it details the demise of a relationship where I was ground down by a narcissist to the point where he tried to set fire to the house and “I didn’t even think to scream”.
The song reasserts my right to tell my own story in my own words, after being told again and again it was wrong of me to do so: shameful, predatory, arrogant. Selfish.
When you’re told by your chosen person that the thing you do best, that you care about the most, is a grubby endeavour – that can be tough to shake, even if it never quite rang true.
Come on…I’m a songwriter, not a tabloid journalist.
The thing is, every one of the 77 songs I’ve released so far is about a person I know, and/or an actual thing that happened in my life.
Songwriting is how I process stuff: I work out how I feel by writing it down, thinking about it and, 77 times to date, spending many hours and many ££s crafting my thoughts and feelings into a song to share with other people.
It’s not not a weird thing to do, but there are a lot of human behaviours I find more peculiar. See above.
Writing personal songs and sharing them is nothing new. But it is a new thing for me to share so bluntly the real-life events1 that propelled a song into being.
My songs are an invitation: containers of time, sound and space for you to pour your own experiences into. You’re smart; you don’t need me to over-explain them. At a certain point, they’re not even about me any more.
In the case of “Emotional Tourist”, though, it felt important to explain that the “smoke in the house” isn’t a metaphor for me. It can be, and hopefully is, for everyone else hearing the song – and that goes for every factual snippet from my life that I bury in the poetry of my lyrics.
“In the particular is contained the universal”, wrote James Joyce to a friend. I agree. Unfortunately, the particular type of situation I was in isn’t an unusual one. That’s why I made it into a song, and why I’m writing about it outside of the lyrics.
The song has been publicly available for 8 days, and I’ve already had four people get in touch to thank me for validating their own experiences. In turn, that helped to validate mine.
This is what art does: it holds up a mirror, it supports us, it connects us, sometimes it even heals us. Making it – and immersing myself in art created by others – has helped heal me so many times I’ve lost count.
Every day since releasing the song, the video and this piece detailing what the song is really about, I’ve wondered if I’ll hear from that person, or from his family. What would they say? What would I say?
I don’t think what I’ve done is wrong. I don’t feel guilty about this. Everyone has a right to tell their side of the story. Not everyone has to like me, agree with me, or like what I do.
That feels good to write.
A dear friend shared “Emotional Tourist” online last week, describing it as “an infectious, rightfully scathing (I remember the guy) yet beautifully melodic synth-rock-pop song that should be a dead cert for the drive-time radio A-list”. That was a real boost, thank you Ben2.
Because, yeah, it’s uncomfortable to extract something so personal, reversing the abstraction from poetry to prose. But when I feel nervous about something, thinking maybe it is – or indeed I am – “too much”, I remember being told so bluntly that “I shouldn’t write about what’s real” and I think about the ways we make ourselves small for other people, and I think “fuck you” and I make, write or share the thing.
I am thankful and grateful and all the -fuls for the secure, happy, nourishing relationship I’ve been in for the past 10 years, and not only because it has helped push my songwriting beyond the more reactive angles of my earliest work.
As I continue to create albums, it’s my job to continually fill the well of creativity so there’s always something to write about. I thank the sun, moon and stars that my day-to-day personal life is almost completely drama-free, which prompts me to look outside myself more often and go deeper into pivotal moments from my past.
Even with 77 songs out in the world, there are plenty of unprocessed moments to take care of, plenty of dawning realisations that something I thought was normal really REALLY wasn’t.
In 2022-2023 those shadows kept creeping up and tapping me on the shoulder with cold, bony fingers, dragging me back into the past on a much-too-regular basis.
That’s why I decided making my new album “House Of Stories” would help me bravely turn back and face up to some of the most intense and/or heartbreaking episodes of my life. Not to blame or shame any individual, not to elevate my own status, but to:
1. Figure out why these things still had the power to bring me to my knees, in a bid to reclaim that power for myself;
2. Create something beautiful out of my experiences, hopefully making something helpful (for me and others) out of some really shitty situations;
3. Use my now-very-VERY great wisdom to reflect on all the things that happened which are still bothering me, for which the common denominator is always MOI, in a bid to learn and grow and go forward in life avoiding unnecessary drama;
4. Forgive myself where appropriate, even if others involved don’t think they were in any way at fault and/or don’t remember what happened.
I make sad songs to make you feel better™3, and I’m happy to report they make me feel better too.
Have a wonderful day and PLEASE make, write and/or share the thing. I believe in you.
Love, Laura xxx
PS my new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books.
Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else gets to listen).
PPS Lab coats and pointers make you feel – and look – clever. The evidence:
I’ve been describing my music this way for years and I just love it. I also describe it as ‘‘music for people who love handwritten letters” but that might be more about justifying my typewriter collection.↩︎
🏠 My new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books. Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else).
❤️ Join The Correspondent’s Clubon Patreon to receive quarterly bundles of art and members-only music plus extra perks + immediate access to my entire digital archive (digital and analogue memberships available)
TW: domestic violence, emotional abuse, general motherf*&kery. Honest, not graphic, but go easy, friend x
Yesterday I released my first new song in two years; the first single from my seventh solo album “House Of Stories”.
It was accompanied by my 26th homemade music video, shot in my front room last weekend, where the current version of me (very wise indeed) educates my younger self (less wise, more glittery) on a few key matters.
Turns out, wearing a lab coat makes me feel –and look – EXTREMELY clever:
The song is called “Emotional Tourist”, and it’s a fierce, wonky indie anthem / banger1 about my absolute right as an artist – and human – to tell my story.
When I write it down like that, so plainly, it seems so obvious. I believe we all have that right, and would uphold and encourage it forever and a day for anyone else. And yet, like the proverbial frog in a pot of gradually boiling water, I’ve found myself in situations over the years where this became very not-obvious to me.
With hindsight, it’s easy to dismiss the petulant ejaculations of a frustrated person as so much absolute bullshit. In the moment, mired in the relationship, it’s far more confusing when someone who supposedly loves you spends their valuable time on this planet making you feel crap.
When you choose to spend most of your time with this supposedly special someone, the things they say can start to get inside your head and form a new reality.
When your special someone tells you that you shouldn’t call yourself an “artist” because you don’t have a fine art degree, that sounds faintly ridiculous, even in the moment. But they’re really upset about this, and they do have a fine art degree, and you don’t, and maybe that is a qualification that gives you the right to call yourself an artist. What do I know? I just make stuff up and send it out into the world. I’m confused, and I really don’t want to argue about this any more.
When your special someone ostentatiously storms out of your live performance in a quiet basement venue, at the end of a night put on to honour your music- and video-making with a screening and Q&A, and they tell you when you get home later they “don’t like it when people look at you on stage”, that is pretty weird. It’s easy to clap back “Well, I’ve been doing this since I was 13, and I’ve known you for 2 years”. But it doesn’t stop the feeling that maybe this is too much to put on someone else, this artist life – oops, I shouldn’t use the a-word. Sorry.
Maybe it is horribly selfish to mine your life experiences for lyrics, as he describes it, and maybe I am a shitty person, and should shut up and find something kinder to do with my time. Maybe I should be paying for everything, as he suggests. And maybe it isarrogant and strange to stand on a stage and play music to people. I just never looked at it that way before.
When your special someone repeatedly comments on your appearance, your weight, your attractiveness, and the way you making more money than them isn’t fair, that should be a red flag red flag red flag RED FLAGGGGGGG. Simple. But you live together, and you’re trying to make things work because that’s what relationships are, right? You have to work at them. And he’s probably just trying to help.
He’s my special someone! We chose each other!
Yep. Things so easily get out of hand. Red flags are much easier to spot from a distance.
There is no situation in which I should have made it okay in my brain that he threw a bottle near me.
But – he threw it at the wall, not at me. I must have pissed him off. I was on my way out to play a gig, and he doesn’t like me doing that, remember, and somehow the conversation got out of hand, and I don’t remember exactly what I said but seemingly out of nowhere that happened, so it must have been bad.
Thank goodness I kept walking out of the house, too worried I’d miss my bus into town for soundcheck to try and figure out what had gone wrong. It was a big deal gig for me, supporting New Model Army. And it changed my life forever (but not how you think2).
I know now that I should have called the police the afternoon my house filled with smoke.
I was working upstairs in my home office, and the smoke alarm started squealing, and I started coughing, and I ran downstairs to see what was going on. Wisps of grey smoke was wafting around the living room, but I couldn’t see any flames, so I went into the kitchen and saw the oven door was open, and something inside was on fire.
In a few seconds I was able to turn the oven off, grab what I discovered to be a flaming tea towel, chuck it into the sink, turn the cold tap on, and open the back door and kitchen window to clear the room. The alarm petered out after a few minutes. Phew. Crisis averted.
But wait – the tea towel was only singed. The fire must have only just started. Where was he? I called his name. Nothing. He definitely wasn’t upstairs. I checked the rooms downstairs. Nope.
None of this made sense.
I went and stood in the backyard, trying to clear my head.
He regularly baked bread – had the bread caught fire? (There was no sign of any bread making.)
Why was there a tea towel in the oven? Was that a bread making thing? (A tea towel in the oven is not a bread making thing.)
OK, so just a tea towel. In the oven. On fire.
And he wasn’t home?
What. The. Fuck?
– Oh.
As the cogs slowly whirred in my brain, the smoke dissipated along with some of my mental fog. He did this on purpose.
I replayed our last conversation, something about my upcoming European tour. I was excited – it was my first time playing my own songs outside the UK. A new friend had booked the shows for me. Boyfriend was concerned about this man’s motives. I was not – I’d met him, and he seemed sound. And anyway, from years of touring in other peoples’ bands I was well practised at being careful around strangers on the road (oh, the irony).
I was secretly thrilled to be setting out on my grand solo adventure, but I knew it was a touchy subject, so I had been downplaying the whole thing. Diminishing myself, my dreams, my achievements. Even my intelligence (I hadn’t read a novel in nearly two years).
I couldn’t work out what I’d said that could have triggered this reaction.
I don’t remember feeling frightened: I’d stopped anything bad from happening, hadn’t I! Everything was clearly FINE.
I do remember, when he shuffled back in the house half an hour later, thinking “I must be a total bitch to want to say this, and there’s no going back from this if I say it out loud, but –” right before I took a deep breath and said it.
“Did you do this on purpose?” A curt nod.
I don’t remember there being any further explanation.
I do remember saying “Okay” and that being the end of the conversation.
I didn’t break up with him. I didn’t tell anyone.
It didn’t even cross my mind that a crime could have been committed, that I was potentially unsafe, that I should make sure someone knew what had happened. That I should, hey, go and stay somewhere else? Ask him to leave?
I think I was in survival mode. I remember thinking that I couldn’t break up with him before the tour, because he might do something to my music equipment and all my other earthly possessions, might wreck the house we were renting and cause issues with the landlord.
Isn’t it strange the way our minds work? Not once did I consider my personal safety. I didn’t think of myself as a precious thing that needed to be protected, perhaps more urgently than some guitars and microphones. I didn’t think of myself much at all.
We did break up a few weeks later, at the end of my utterly joyful European adventure tour.
He came out to meet me in Austria, and it was really weird, and we broke up twice, and when we got back to London I refused to return to Bristol with him and went and stayed with a friend for a few days (thank you forever, C).
Eventually I went back to the house and made it very clear we had broken up for good and we both had to find somewhere new to live. I remember this – he just shrugged. It wasn’t a simple process, but in July 2014 I moved into my own place, with my beloved Schnauzer Mister Benji, and could finally breathe – and read – again.
Yes, dear reader, I stayed in that house for three more months before leaving. WTAF.
Later that year I told the story to a friend, in the jokey tone I tend to adopt when I have gained some distance from weird/sad/bad events. When I stopped talking he stayed very quiet.
“Are you okay?” I asked. He was visibly shaking. He was furious.
It was only then I realised the gravity of the situation I’d ended up in. It was only then the phrase “attempted murder” was mentioned. It still seemed entirely unbelievable to me. A misunderstanding. An exaggeration. A story no-one would believe. Sure, he’d tried to make a fire, but it hadn’t worked! I’d put it out!
It took a while to reprogram my brain after that, to remind myself that making sense of my life and my place in the world through art making, music making and writing was an entirely valid way to spend my time. That it wasn’t selfish to share my work – that, in fact, it could be an act of generosity.
My story – my version of events, my reaction to factual things that happened, my emotions, my thoughtful reflections on actions perpetrated against me – that is mine and mine alone.
My story is MY story. The other person/s present will have their own version of events, and they have every right to make their own artwork3 about that.
I say this as a reminder to YOU, friend. Your stories matter, too. You never know who you could help by sharing them.
“Direction Of Travel” (recorded in late 2014) was bleak, chilly and very sad. And over the years, many people have emailed me to say it helped them through their own hard times. I’m glad I processed those thoughts into music.
Nearly 11 years on from the events above, I continue to reserve the right to write songs about whatever I damn well please, alongside striving to be a warm-hearted, kind and empathetic human being.
My last three albums “Brace For Impact”, “Exotic Monsters” and “One In A Thousand” necessarily became more outward-looking than my first three, first because I’m a mature adult woman and because having a wonderfully supportive and happy home life doesn’t make for sad-song fodder (thanks, Tim!).
My upcoming album “House Of Stories” deals with events from my past that refuse to stay there. It’s my attempt to make something beautiful and hopefully helpful out of some really shitty situations, stabbing some bad memories in the eye with the blade of truth. A celebration of wisdom and experience, and a reminder of our own personal power to change our internal and external worlds.
But no, of course my life is not a research project for funneling other peoples’ mistakes into songs – in fact, in my previous solo incarnation as She Makes War, I spent most of the time having a go at myself rather than other people. It’s called introspection, darling.
My life’s purpose is to write truthful, emotionally resonant music.
I don’t write sad / angry songs inspired by real events and people to target them, or to provoke a reaction. I don’t want to hear from those people ever again, and the feeling is almost certainly mutual. It’s not so plain, anyway: most of the time there’s no way someone could point at a song and claim it was about them without sounding very arrogant indeed. It’s MY story, remember – not theirs.
I very rarely choose to swear in lyrics – there are usually better words to use – but if you do decide to act like a motherf*&ker, I might just call you one in a song.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Love, Laura xxx
PS my new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books.
Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else gets to listen).
PPPS this was a long one – if you got this far you deserve a treat. Go and treat yourself, you’re ace!
The rule is, if someone else (who isn’t a friend or my husband) calls my song an “anthem” or a “banger”, then I’m allowed to call it that too. That’s just science.
That was the night I met the man who I would marry 3.5 years later. He ran the venue. I’d heard of him, even emailed him to ask for an opening slot for Shellac (he said no). It was all very professional – we just said hi after the show – but months later he told me he had been “intrigued” that night, and as soon as we started dating we became inseparable.
10 years later we are still inseparable, and it wasn’t until that relationship began that I learned that the “making it work” thing I’d been doing consistently with various unsuitable persons from the age of 16 was not the correct approach.
Though, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t want to see/hear/experience said artwork if it does come into being! You do you babe, I don’t need to get involved. ↩︎
🏠 My new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books. Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else).
❤️ Join The Correspondent’s Clubon Patreon to receive quarterly bundles of art and members-only music plus extra perks + immediate access to my entire digital archive (digital and analogue memberships available)
Songs can mend moments. Art stretches time, giving me a chance to walk back into the room and say what I wouldacouldashoulda. Giving me the power to walk out.
“Emotional Tourist” is a fiery anthem* for anyone who’s suffered at the hands of bullies, creeps and narcissists. Fielding comments – or worse – on your appearance, your weight, your life choices. Painted into a corner by politeness, with an inability to believe someone could truly be that awful – and be doing it on purpose, too.
Just me? Sadly not.
11 years ago, faced with my soon-to-be-ex’s final attempts to extinguish my creativity I did manage to get out, but there was no blaze of glory. Real life is usually quieter than that.
I know I’m one of the lucky ones.
“Emotional Tourist” is a chance for me to rewrite my story in that blaze of glory – 3 minutes 40 seconds of foot-stomping, fist-wielding synth rock.
Because when events from the past refuse to stay there, the only thing to do as a songwriter is stab them in the eye with the blade of truth.
“You reap what you sow.”
* PS: my rule on such bragging is: if someone else (who isn’t a friend and doesn’t live with me) calls the song an anthem, I can call the song an anthem…
VIDEO CREDITS Directed, shot and edited by Laura Kidd.
Additional filming and warmest encouragement from Tim Bailey, my actual hero (can you spot his lovely face near the end of the video?)
Paper house crafted by LK, with a cameo from the Christmas tree fairy Sarah-Jane Osborne made for me a few years ago, when I went by the name She Makes War. Thank you, S-J!
PS I’m playing my beloved Reverend Double Agent OG in this video.
SONG CREDITS Written, produced, performed, and recorded by Laura Kidd in The Launchpad, Nottingham. Drums by Max Saidi. Mixed by Chris Sheldon. Mastered by Katie Tavini.
HUGEST THANKS to The Correspondent’s Club. I can’t do this without you xxx
LYRICS
You think I’m an emotional tourist But you don’t know how deep I go Holding tight, but I’m lost in this forest And there’s no sign of my hero So I guess I’ll just sleep in the snow
It’s like this – The lure of a late night kiss A situation that shouldn’t exist Now I’m trapped in a house in the humdrum With a cut-price narcissist – Now I’m trapped in a house with a poisoned mind
He tells me to give up my dream The thing I’ve wanted since I was 13 Or I’m not on his team Now there’s smoke in the house And I didn’t even think to scream
You reap what you sow, motherfucker / lazy lover Go Go, go
You think I’m an emotional tourist But you don’t know how deep I go Holding tight, but I’m lost in this forest And there’s no sign of my hero So I guess I’ll just sleep in the snow
I’m not finished
That’s two years I’ll never get back I’m sick of hearing I’m too fat I’m too boring I’m too this I’m too that
He said I couldn’t make him feel That I shouldn’t write about what’s real Then he lit that match Oh well – what’s a girl to do?
You reap what you sow, motherfucker / lazy lover Go, go I hope you know You reap what you sow So go
I hope you choke
You think I’m an emotional tourist But you don’t know how deep I go Holding tight, but I’m lost in this forest And there’s no sign of my hero So I guess I’ll just sleep in the snow I guess I’ll just sleep in the snow
You think I’m an emotional tourist But you don’t know how deep I go Holding tight, but I’m lost in this forest And there’s no sign of my hero So I guess I’ll just sleep And you can just weep in the snow
🏠 My new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books. Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else).
❤️ Join The Correspondent’s Clubon Patreon to receive quarterly bundles of art and members-only music plus extra perks + immediate access to my entire digital archive (digital and analogue memberships available)
Day 8 of my daily index card collage challenge. "Gobblin' Time" - get it? Original monster by Zozoville.
Next Wednesday 15th January I’m releasing my first new song in two years.1
“Emotional Tourist” is the first single I’m sharing publicly2 from my seventh solo album “House Of Stories”.
I’m probably supposed to be “excited to announce…” or “delighted to introduce…” but, 15 years after the first time I was excited to announce a single3, I’m hoping to stretch my vocabulary.
It’s not that I’m not excited, or indeed delighted. I’m both, and more. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that the words I write on the matter are essential to encouraging, persuading and intriguing you towards tapping “play” and giving my song a chance.
I also know that writing “I’m excited to announce that my new song is out now” is a waste of everyone’s time.
I’m…Who is this person? Excited…I’ve read that word a thousand times already today – next! Announce…Where are we, a train station? My…Sorry, why are you in my feed again? I don’t know you. New song…Every song I haven’t heard yet is new, what difference does the release date make to me? Out now…Ohhh, is this an advert? Ugh, I hate being advertised to, no thanks.
A large chunk of my time as a full-time solo artist and self-facilitating media node4 is spent creating excitement around things I made a while ago.
I embrace this.
Andy J. Pizza, of the wonderful, changed-my-life podcast Creative Pep Talk, recently shared a series of episodes around the second Hero’s Journey. He called it the “Journey Of The True Fan”5, and it’s very helpful.
If the first Hero’s Journey sees the hero – yes, you – bravely leaving your metaphorical home to adventure out into the world, battling through adversity to find the elixir, the second is where you bring the elixir home to share with your people, the ones who need it just as much as you do.
What’s the elixir? It’s what you make – what you want to make. What you’re called to make. What you haven’t made yet…but you’re going to make. When you make that thing, wouldn’t you like to share it with people? And wouldn’t that feel more comfortable and less intimidating/gross/cringey if you believed that what you made would help them in some way?
It’s true, you know. Art heals. Songs create spaces for people to feel their feelings. Music is a collaboration between the people making the sounds, and the people listening.
If my song comes out next Wednesday and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Not really.
My song isn’t worthless if no-one listens to it. It can be enough that I pulled it out from deep within my psyche and put the time, energy and focus in to make it into something that could be played to another human. That’s fine.
But it’s ok to want people to listen / watch / read too. And I do. And I’ve been doing this for a long time. And it’s (currently) my full-time job (thanks to generous music fans who choose to pay for something they could listen to for free).
I crave connection with other humans. Many of us do.
So, there would be very little point to me going to all the fuss of writing and recording my songs, having them professionally mixed and mastered and commissioning an artist to illustrate the album cover if I wasn’t prepared to spend time and energy on communicating my excitement and delight at my single being OUT NOW.
If you make art that you want people to experience, respond to and potentially heal from, this second Hero’s Journey is essential, and in my experience it’s not best spent:
Complaining on the internet about how we’re being forced to become “content creators”. Snore. No-one is forcing you to do anything. No-one is expecting you to make music / paint / write / make videos / anything. They don’t know you exist.
Why not spend that energy sharing your work in an interesting way? Every single time I see this post from an artist I wish they’d just shared a little story about their art instead.
Publicly railing against the powers that be while doing nothing in real life to create lasting change and/or finding interesting ways to share your art despite the raw deal we genuinely do get.
Announcing that you’re “excited” and “delighted” that your new song/book/video is OUT NOW!!!
Damn. So…what should I do instead? My single is out in less than a week! Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!
While I’m truly aiming to avoid the words “excited” and “delighted” this time round, it is important to be keyed up, galvanised or otherwise invigorated about our work. If we don’t feel it, the people we’re hoping to invite to appreciate it certainly won’t.
I know “House Of Stories” is my best album yet7, but instead of excitement / delightment I’m going for a quiet confidence, an open-hearted generosity of spirit and a desire to use my words to go deeper into what my 11 new songs are about, how I felt when I wrote them and how I feel about them now.
The time for musing and pondering is upon me. More soon.
Here’s what I do know: I make sad songs to make you feel better. I share music humbly to create honest, positive and potentially healing experiences for you. And I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities that exist to share our work through myriad digital spaces, reaching out across the ether to make connections with other humans (that’s you – hi!)
I just think we can find deeper and more resonant ways to share our stories – preferably without quite so much shouting.
Another thing I’ve picked up from my 20 years of writing on the internet is to leave the reader with one simple Call To Action.
Unfortunately, in this essay I decided to do a Stewart Lee8 / Katie Lee9 and include many humorous footnotes, thereby fucking up any real chance I may have earned of you taking the required next action to listen to my new song.
You’ll receive next week’s single “Emotional Tourist” + the title track “House Of Stories” in your inbox immediately, with a new song every month up to the release date in April 2025.
Hooray!
Thanks for reading. I’m excited and delighted you’re here.
Love, Laura xxx
Aside from “Our Last Christmas”, which came out in early December. That one had a short shelf life, for obvious reasons…but I’m really glad I made this video for it in a Berlin Christmas market. It wasn’t at all weird wandering around filming myself and whispering the lyrics at double speed. I just have a weird job – and I love it! ↩︎
Members of my Correspondent’s Club received it on New Year’s Eve, and people who have already pre-ordered my album received it shortly afterwards. Only the best for the best. ↩︎
My first single “Let This Be” was released under the name She Makes War in April 2010. This self-directed music videostars Regé-Jean Page of Bridgerton and now Hollywood fame. Yes, 15 years ago my then-boyfriend’s little brother was keen for any experience on set, and he was always lovely to hang out with. Thanks, Regé! I’m SO proud of you. ↩︎
Behold Andy’s “Journey Of The True Fan” series – parts 1, 2, 3 and 4. He’s here on Substack being awesome, too. ↩︎
Rebecca Lucy Taylor aka pop goddess Self Esteem said “it’s just songs” in this episode of my podcast “Attention Engineer” in February 2021 – just before she casually became (aka worked her arse off to become) a bona fide pop star. Well done, RLT! I’d love to do an “after they were famous” followup episode… ↩︎
🏠 My new Penfriend album “House Of Stories” is available to order NOW on super limited vinyl, CDs and KiT hybrid digital albums, with accompanying tees, hoodies and books. Get two songs in your inbox immediately, with another every month til the release date in April (before anyone else).
❤️ Join The Correspondent’s Clubon Patreon to receive quarterly bundles of art and members-only music plus extra perks + immediate access to my entire digital archive (digital and analogue memberships available)
