Shit Happens.
When I was
sixteen, I decided to set myself the task of writing a song in the style of Bob
Dylan.
The only catch with this self-commission was I wasn’t overly familiar with what Bob Dylan did. I knew he had turned The Beatles onto pot and from folk to electric, but that was about it. I’ve since caught up (he now has the largest presence in my CD collection outside of the Fab Four), but as a teenager, I was largely oblivious.
The song I squeezed from my subconscious was Shit Happens. I’m still proud of it. The recording below isn’t the best, but it gets across the essence. I remember being pulled to one side by a middle-aged man at a Big Day Out gig back in the day, to tell me that the song had epitomised his recent break-up with his wife, and helped him draw a line under their relationship. He said it made him cry. I took this as a compliment.
The only catch with this self-commission was I wasn’t overly familiar with what Bob Dylan did. I knew he had turned The Beatles onto pot and from folk to electric, but that was about it. I’ve since caught up (he now has the largest presence in my CD collection outside of the Fab Four), but as a teenager, I was largely oblivious.
The song I squeezed from my subconscious was Shit Happens. I’m still proud of it. The recording below isn’t the best, but it gets across the essence. I remember being pulled to one side by a middle-aged man at a Big Day Out gig back in the day, to tell me that the song had epitomised his recent break-up with his wife, and helped him draw a line under their relationship. He said it made him cry. I took this as a compliment.
