Nothing To Live For: Say What You Need To Say

It's 2.43am, Saturday morning, and I'm listening to 'Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay' by Otis Redding. And I'm thinking - how the fuck did he do this? Why is it SO perfect? Is it his voice? Is it the guy who co-wrote the song? Is it a fluke?

Film Director's tell people the one they're currently filming will be their best ever, and they mean it. But you never know. There's a scene in one of my films that makes me cringe, because me and the actor fucked it up. But no-one notices, they love the scene. Meanwhile other scenes I think I got close to perfect, and they mean nothing to people.

When you create a body of work, you look back to some pieces with affection, and some make you cringe. But when you're creating them, you never know.

Why is the Otis Redding song so good? And why does Elton John's "Your Song" resonate with EVERYBODY? Elton wrote the music for that track in thirty minutes. People spend five years writing crap.

I guess the only thing to do is create.

The rest is out of our control.Anne Frank didn't realise the context her diary would be in. Otis didn't plan to represent an era, and Elton didn't know It'd still be a concert favourite all those years later. 

Some pieces of art are just heartbreakingly perfect. Make your best friend put down the Blackberry and watch "The Apartment", get the DJ at the party to play "Build Me Up Buttercup", and lay down in your bed when the world is sleeping and listen to "Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay".

Most of what we make is drivel. Our best attempts make everyone snore. But something else is possible.

If we just create.

Anne Frank knew her time was up. So did Warren Zevon. So did Tupac. And in a different way, so do Woody Allen and Clint Eastwood. Maybe being reminded of what lurks around the corner gives us the drive we need.

Otis died at TWENTY SIX. Fuck. Maybe he knew too.

"Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay" wasn't even released yet. Otis didn't get to see the impact he'd have on the world. I mean, some guy is writing about him at 3am on a Friday, 44 years later, that's pretty special.

Anne Frank's diary is still a big seller. The world needed it. The world needs it. And Tupac still has hit records, people need the message.

Art truly lives forever.

This stuff is so important that I want to wake everyone up and scream it at them.

Simplicity is best. Be truthful. Anne said "I'm Jewish and I'm trapped." Tupac said "I'm black and we're being mistreated and we're mistreating ourselves." Elton said "This is your song," and Otis said "This loneliness won't leave me alone."

Think about that for a minute. Saying "I'm trapped because of who I am" is hard, even in a modern, non life-threatening situation. And when you say "This song is for you," you're vulnerable like crazy. And nobody ever admits "this loneliness won't leave me alone".

They dared to make their art about who they were as human beings. The things we struggle to say.

Come to think of it, when Elton made that masterpiece, he was trapped too. Wow, that's a 3.15am revelation if ever there was one. "I'm trapped because of who I am" precisely explains a huge part of Elton John's life back then. It's not just a love song, it's him singing a song that society didn't want him singing to the person he loved.

We can't obstruct ourselves or rule anything out if we want to make great art. We have to lay it all out on the table -- show people who we really are.

It's not a masterpiece, but I'm now listening to a John Mayer song now. The lyrics are fitting:

"You'd better know that in the end,
It's better to say too much,
Than never to say what you need to say again.

Even if your hands are shaking,
And your faith is broken,
Even as the eyes are closing,
Do it with a heart wide open.
Say what you need to say."

SAY WHAT YOU NEED TO SAY. You might die at 26. Leave a legacy. Don't guess at what a legacy is, or what's cool. Just create.

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The Night I Discovered SOLOMON BURKE

It was 2003. I was maybe less tall; although I can't be sure. The night was a mix of amazing and depressing, which is always the case; when you're the kid with the weird tastes who has to do stuff on his own. I wanted to see Van Morrison live before he died, or before I died. I had it in my head that Morrison was old, really old, like eighty. I soon found out he wasn't-- but by that time I'd already spent £80 on a ticket near the stage.

So there I am, a guy in his late teens, going to see a legend of music, on my own. That made me grumpy. Well, that kind of thing used to make me grumpy-- now it just excites me to like what I like. Van Morrison was okay, he was cool. I didn't love the gig. He messed around with his songs a lot. I normally like that kind of thing but it felt more like messing things up than inspired improvising. All was not lost, because I didn't just discover how young Van Morrison was that night, I discovered Solomon Burke.

He was the support act. He came on stage and he just had PRESENCE. He was THERE. And the minute he sung-- wow. It was beautiful. His big, booming, beautiful voice-- it simply took over the Royal Albert Hall. I wanted to be Solomon Burke. Like, I want that attitude, I want that peace. I want that message, I want that heart. He sung "If You Need Me" and he meant it. I felt like he was there for me. And for me, his version of "Everybody Needs Somebody To Love" is so soulful - it's perfect.

I don't listen to Burke as much as I listen to Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, etc--- for me, those guys are the Shawshank Redemption's of music; you always go back to them. Solomon Burke is the movie you pull out on a Tuesday night when you're feeling depressed and need to hear from an old friend.

Here is his version of 'A Change Is Gonna Come.' I don't see it as a cover of the Sam Cooke song, they're not in competition -- for me, it's something else, a different angle, that fills a different need-- but it's still something that definitely needs to be heard.

There are less and less people like Solomon Burke in the world, and that's a shame. It's strange to me because, just last night; I spent a night sitting at a computer with my Dad, going through all the music we love. Of course, at first; I had to explain what YouTube is, but after that.. it was glorious as we revelled in the magic of Wilson Pickett, James Brown and Otis Redding. And then, hours later it would seem: Solomon Burke died. Rather than be sad about having to say RIP to another music legend, I'd rather just be grateful that he existed at all. He added something to the world.

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RIP - Farrah Fawcett.

She was never quite on my radar. It's weird how some actors, even actors you like; are just not people who's films and TV shows you seem to watch very often. That's very much how Farrah was for me. And it's a bit odd that now, as her career and life come to a close; I remember her most for a guest role she did in 'Ally McBeal.' - but then, she was great in it.

Of course, she was extremely beautiful too - and that is one of the main reasons she'll be remembered. There's not many people who'll do a nude shoot for Playboy, aged 48 - and fewer still who'll be able to have sold as many copies as hers did (it was the best-selling copy of Playboy in the 1990's).

I don't have a lot more to say - I don't want to rehash biographic details about her, no doubt you'll be reading those everywhere else -- I just wanted to use this space to pay my respects to an actress who I should know a lot more about.

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The time I met Peter Rogers.

I just found out that the legendary film Producer Peter Rogers passed away on the 14th April. This news is meaningful to me; not because he Produced the Carry On films, of which I was never really a fan. But because he was the first real film producer I ever met. It was a terrifying and exciting experience which has always stuck with me. Having just found out that he passed away - I thought I would share the story.

I was doing work experience at Pinewood Studios. I was given a stack of photos of the cast of a British TV show. Pinewood needed to post them and get them signed by the actors. The only problem was, they didn't know the names of the actors. That was my job. I flicked through the thirty or so images and vaguely recognised one woman. This was going to be difficult.

So I began floating around Pinewood Studios trying to find people who might know. Between me and about thirty people who I asked; we came up with the names of two of the actors before the woman who I was working for said, "why don't you ask Pete?" Being a forward-thinking work experience Kid I figured that asking Pete would be a good idea. I just didn't know who Pete was.

"Pete Rogers," said my boss. I could tell I was meant to be impressed. So I became impressed. But I still didn't know who he was. My interest grew much bigger when I was told that he was the Producer of all the Carry On films. As mentioned at the beginning; it's not like I particularly liked the films but I am aware that they are a massively important part of the history of British cinema-- and if one man was responsible for all of them; well then he was a person I would want to meet, talk to, befriend, etc.

So I got a meeting set up with Peter Rogers. The Pinewood staff convinced me that Peter would be a fountain of knowledge when it comes to actors; which would help me massively with my quest.

I arrived for my meeting. The middle-aged assistant greeted me kindly and we had a little small talk. I asked about what projects they were working on, if any-- and she told me a bit about Carry On London which they were trying to produce (and still are, and have been for about the last twenty years). I nodded and listened; desperately wanting to sound enthusiastic about the new film. I don't remember if the assistant walked me in or if Peter came to greet me. All I remember is feeling utterly dwarfed by his office.

The room was big - and extremely tidy. The desk was a giant, dark-brown wooden thing, much like the whole room. There were no documents around-- just the newspaper that was placed open on his desk. We exchanged brief hellos and then he asked me, quite bluntly, what it was that I wanted.

I explained that I had been given a task and wanted his help. He took the photos and began flicking through them. Within three or four pictures he looked a little distraught; a little frustrated that he didn't recognize anyone. "What is this for? What is the picture?."

I then used the dreaded word. Television. He threw the pictures down. "I work in pictures, not television" he said dismissively. He was everything of the big-time Film Producer cliche. It scared the crap out of me. There was no friendliness in the room - no happy energy floating around.. just his disdain for my presence. Without confidence I mumbled something like "I think some of them have worked in pictures." He knew as well as I did that I wasn't old enough or clever enough to be able to use the word 'pictures'.

"Is there anything else?" he asked as he handed the images back to me. "No, I don't think so."

"Thank you." he responded, before getting back to his newspaper. It was time for me to leave.

The Peter Rogers I met wasn't particularly friendly or welcoming. It was intimidating and scary in a way that I have not really been able to explain here. Having said that - for me, it was a great experience. I was just a kid at Pinewood Studios; and I was having a meeting with a legendary film producer in his nineties.

Peter Rogers - responsible for some of the most loved and memorable comedies to come out of the U.K. A man with an incredible career who deserves to be remembered, and admired. And, also, to be slightly scared of. R.I.P. Peter - Thanks for the movies.

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