Grendel composing at the piano. (click for full size)
A composer's life: A thing misunderstood. An alien thing. A life apart. A life undervalued. Working everyday for the dream, for the perfect song, the perfect arrangement. The satisfaction of putting together something incredible. The blazing intensity of the mind! The high of mental gymnastics at the ultimate level. Day after day, year after year. Alone without help, without understanding, without recognition...
The entirety of Tolkien's songs from "The Lord Of The Rings", set to music by yours truly, up there in the stars, forever linked to that master work. The chosen vessel but ignored, dismissed and forbidden by the powers that be in this infantile world. The burning rage I felt at this injustice. "Do you think I know not what I have done? Do you think I cannot see the majesty and righteousness of my construction? Fools you are and fools you will remain!"
Again, the tolling of fate. The familiar sound of something you detest but no longer fear. The clang of the jailer doing his rounds. "You can imprison my works but you cannot stop their creation!" Do you think I know not from whence this frustration emanates? It is the idiot God that rules this benighted orb. "Fornicate him between the eyes!"
My genius burned BRIGHT and I constructed a masterpiece from Stevenson's "Songs of Travel", dovetailing it with Vaughan-Williams' earlier settings. My piano arrangements blossomed even in the absence of a piano. I tried to make a proper recording with a local pianist but down came the foot-stomp of God at the last minute, when all was in place, squashing any dream of a quality realisation.
No surprise. I knew what kind of creature pulled the strings by now.
I set Ned Kelly's prose to music in all the traditional modes and keys of the Irish format: The jig, the reel, the slip-jig, the ballad, the march... Respect that all you mindless Philistines and pretenders!
I adapted Schubert's immortal Quintet for the piano and had it professionally recorded. Fantastic! Now I thought: "Surely now my name will fly. None can deny the magic of this accomplishment!" but NO! There is no limit to the power and pettiness of the arsehole in the sky!
I matched wits with Bach and Beethoven adapting them to produce more wonderful creations for the piano. Essential listening for any lover of the classics. Creations for the enjoyment and betterment of all! "Bong!" the toll of denial rang out across the land. Again and again, like an endless parade of funerals. Inexplicably, every pianist in the nation had turned against me now and would not work with me for love nor money. How?...
Grendel playing the bagpipes. (click for full size)
I adapted two of my songs of the Rohirrim for pipe band. "Bong!" Down it came again: the unconscionable, witless, boring, dead hand of God. No piper would touch these masterworks as they contravened the strictures of the Royal Scottish Bagpipe Association. The stupid preferment of ugly tradition over the beauty of the notes.
They are not custodians of the wonder of pipe music. They are petty autocrats, jealous of their power. They ought to be ashamed of themselves...
"Fuck them all!"
I composed, arranged and recorded 2 albums of rock music early on. Rock music! My first love! Electric guitar: My favourite instrument! But it withers without a band. It cannot stand on its own. The loudest, most courageous and charismatic instrument of all! Asleep now it lies. Its strings corroded. Its voice silent. Its promise denied. Its friends lost and gone... Sad!
I feel like a traitor, betraying my friend... Sad!
I wrote songs upon songs: Songs of love, songs of life, songs of backgammon, songs of the mystic, songs of the artist, songs for family and friends, songs for the world, songs for Australia, humourous songs, ribald songs, fantasy songs, science songs, songs about drugs, abusive songs, children's songs and hymns. Hundreds of songs!
I watched a procession of second-rate hacks be lauded as geniuses by the idiot media. I watched mediocre works be promoted to the realm of "classics". I watched scantily-clad, pretty young women make more money from their recycled, tasteless pabulum than even the greats of the past achieved in the golden age! I watched my shining original works sink into the mire like worthless rocks...
"Where is the justice?", I screamed into the echoing sky. "Is there no place for merit left in this god-forsaken world?" And the sky responded: "Of course not! This is the unforgiving, heartless, world of morons and you are Grendel: green, hairy and hated by all..." Angry and miserable I trudged back to my den.
"Why don't you get some locals and form a band?" they say. But I have matched wits with Schubert, Bach & Beethoven. I cannot descend to the realm of mediocrity! I cannot perform with those who sing flat, play wrong chords or can't keep time.
I am, again, a creature alone. I have come too far, climbed too high and have no contemporaries. Lonely perhaps but once you taste the apples of the sun you can never go back to the terrestrial. Poor I may be but I can write what no one else can imagine! I would not trade my hard-won standing for all the wealth of Bill Gates.
Between the hammer and anvil: That is where I stand!
No faith to last forever, still no power in this land.
Waiting while I'm heated, struck and wrought within this forge,
What will result, what will ensue, the future must disgorge.
I wait in pregnant patience, my fire to catch hold.
A lifetime in the making, never bought and never sold.
The wait can't last forever, the dam has done its worst,
You have held it back with all your might for years but it must burst.
Equipped with just the tools of trade, a carefree no one still,
The past, the now, the future: I wright there as I will.
Through years of patient effort, the weight is on my side,
Though the odds be overwhelming, yet still shall turn the tide.
My nerve I've held for so long now, outlasted every foe.
And focused all the way to death, never to let go.
There's nowhere else for me to stand, this space I take is mine!
A place where I can feel secure until the end of time.