An image is burned into my memory. It was twenty two years ago, around this time of year. A young singer/songwriter had been spending a lot of time in the studio. She'd just got a deal. she would hang around studio reception sometimes and chat. One time she was early for a rehearsal and picked up one of the guitars. She played us a sing she'd just written and asked our opinion. Fil Ross, our chief engineer and my bandmate in the False Dots said something like "It's great but try taking the C down to an Am in the chrous, it will give it a better feel". She did it and said "Yeah that really works". I was struck by how the song she wrote was her. When she sang it, unaccompanied, it sounded amazing. What struck me most though was it was her. She delivered a song that she really believed. Her name is Amy Winehouse and within a couple of months, she was on the Jools Holland show and the rest is history. Many words have been written about Amy, but far too few about her songwriting. The gift Amy had as a songwriter was her ability to convey genuine emotion and feelings.
I was reminded of this yesterday. I've been doing some filing. I have about 200 cassettes made over 46 years at False Dots rehearsals etc. Most are completely unlabelled. Listening to these has been quite enlightening, but also a bit of an emotional journey. Hearing the voices of people who have passed away, moved away, disappeared has been rather emotional. It stirred up a whole raft of feelings. It also brought back many moments in the long history of the band, not all of which were comfortable. Perhaps the most difficult for me to deal with, was the break up of the band in 1984, when Venessa Sagoe left the band. Venessa was an immense talent and I'd have done anything to keep her in the band, but she had decided that her path lay elsewhere. The first year of the line up had been brilliant, but it all started to go wrong, when myself and my girlfriend decided to share a flat with Venessa and her boyfriend Bill, who was also a guitarist in the band. I don't think Venessa found me to be an easy band mate. When she announced she was leaving the band, I asked why. She said "You have not given me a voice in the music". I was quite upset by this. I always felt I encouraged the band to participate in the writing and development of the songs. We had got the band together in a hurry, the previous summer. We had gigs to be fulfilled and it was true that the selection of songs Venessa had to sing when she joined were not written for her. Once we had a set together, we started to write some new songs. In hindsight, the songs I presented, were still very much my songs. Whilst the band all worked on the arrangements, it is clear listening to them now, that whilst Venessa sang them in an excellent way, she didn't really feel much empathy with most of them.
When she first told me this, I didn't understand. In 1985, when I started to consider how to get the band together with a new line up, I pondered on this. I realised that what I really needed to do was improve my songwriting. I did a songwriting course. This gave me a lot of great tools as a songwriter, but I still didn't fully appreciate what Venessa said, or the fact that what the tutor was saying. One of the exercises was to write a song for an artist of our choice. The tutor suggested choosing someone who's music wasn't really something we'd listen to. He suggested we listen to the artist and try and get inside their head and write a song they might sing well. I randomly chose Paul Young. I borrowed an album and worked out his key and his style. I wrote a song,which I didn't really like. I got a mate to sing it and I strummed it. The tutor was hughly complimentary and said I'd "got inside his voice". I was quite surprised. I put the song down and forgot it. A couple of years later, a mate, who has a great voice turned up for a rehearsal. He asked if he could sing a song with us. I dug it out and he sang it brilliantly. We recorded it on my four track. When I listened to it, the penny finally dropped. I realised what Venessa had been saying. I'd never taken the trouble to find her best singing key (in truth it didn't seem to matter). I'd run shy of doing slow songs, where she could really have exploited her range and talent.
Whilst I think we'd given her songs that worked really well live and that showed off her range and talent, none showed her personality. I don't really understand why I'd not collaborated with her more on actually writing songs from scratch, which would have been the logical thing to do. I'd done that with Pete Conway and Craig Withecombe, who were far less talented. We had a few covers in our set, a bit of a hang over from when she joined and we had to get a set together quickly for some bookings. One of the songs, which Venessa chose, was the Percy Sledge classic "When a man loves a woman". We recorded it for a demo to get some more paid gigs. When we listened, it was to fast. We had a long chat and worked hard to slow it down. The live version on The False Dots Youtube, is probably the best recording of it. It is perfect and Venessa gets totally inside the song. Rather stupidly, we decided that was our slow song in the set. It was one which always got a brilliant response and we were too stupid to see what was staring us in the face. Have a listen
When Connie Abbe joined the band, I was determined not to make the same mistake. There was an old False Dots song called "Maybe once more" that Connie sang with us. We slowed it right down. It sounded brilliant. She really got inside it, changed a few lyrics and it became one of the high points of the set. The video below is a live video from Lock 17 at Camden. What was interesting was that I wrote the song for Venessa after she left the band, when I was doing the songwriting course. When Allen Ashley joined, we sped it up and it had a bit of Dire Straits B-side feel, which was OK but wasn't what was intended. It was only really when Connie joined that I was able to hear it how it should sound.
After Venessa left in late 1984 and the band got going again, we got poet Allen Ashley on vocals. Allen was a poet and he would only sing songs he could get fully inside. Writing the music for the songs was brilliant and quite educational. Allen's style is rather marmite, not totally dissimilar to Morrisey. Many of the songs we co-wrote. I'd contribut a verse or two, Allen would finish the songs and reshape them. I think a couple of the songs are classic pop songs.
After Allen, we went through a few singers etc. The last of that period was Tony Robotham, who was an R&B singer. Tony was brilliant, he completly owned the songs he sang. I wrote a few songs, he wrote a few and we got what, in hindsight, was an amazing set. I got to understand what made Tony's voice tick. He got his head around playing with rock musicians. It is only now, when I listen to them, that I realise how good they were. I was pretty burned out as a musician by then. There wasn't much interest in the music we wanted to make.
I think that the decade between the False Dots starting in 1979 and the line up with Tony disbanding in late 1990 was one of constant learning. If I have a regret, it is that I pressed the pause button on the band, just as I'd got to the point where I was writing good songs and playing good guitar.
Fast forward to 2025, 35 years later. The False Dots are going through one of our best periods. We are working on a new album. After decades of getting in other singers, most of whom were brilliant, I have picked up the reigns and am taking the leadon vocals (although Tom Hammond now sings a few songs). The most interesting aspect of it, is that I now know what Venessa was moaning about. When you write a strong song, that suits you, it is easy to perform it well and have some fun with it. When you don't connect, it simply doesn't work. It may sound OK to the audience, but it isn't much fun.
For any aspiring songwriters out there, I would urge you to consider all of this. I had long appreciated the need for an audience to connect with a song, but less so the people performing it. Last night, the False Dots recorded three songs for our new album. The first of these was the song I wrote in the Paul Young style. My missus has loing said it was the best song I've written, albiet because she liked my mate Johnny's vocals on it. I've shied away from it because it is actually a hard song for me to sing, but I have bitten the bullet. Tom Hammonds trumpet is the ingredient that had long been missing. The second song, is a song from 2006, I'm the man. We have recorded this before, but I felt it would work well with trumpet and hopefully I can sing it OK. It is perhaps the most punk rock song I've written in the last 40 years. It is dynamic and I rather like it. The third song, is a brand new Ska number called "Crows", which is about Urban Decay, but has a lot of dark humour, in true False Dots style. Here is a clip Tom filmed of us recording the backing tracks. It will sound a bit different when it is mixed. It's been a long journey. It ain't over just yet!
@falsedotsrog Started work recording three new tracks last night, for the new False Dots album! This number is ‘The Crows’ #ska #reggae #thefalsedots #recordingstudio #millhillmusiccomplex ♬ original sound - FalseDotsRog
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