Deeper Into the Little Metropolis

Little Metropolis cover by Marcus Walters, based on the logo for the Pelican pub

It is possible to get a little too excited about crowdfunding, I have discovered. If one isn't careful, a certain manic gleam creeps into your eye as adrenaline levels rise in a tsunami through your lymphatic system and, when you aren't glued to the computer growling like a tom cat waiting for a mouse, hoping that the number of backers will rise, you can start bouncing off the walls of your house and becoming impossible to live with.

I am in the early stages of a crowdfunding campaign. I know whereof I speak. It's for the best (at this precise moment) that I live alone.

Much of this mania stems from the fact that one tends to be happy with the work one is crowdfunding for, I suppose, and excited to be attempting to get it out into the world. It's a strange, littoral space to exist in though; the creation is finished (in this instance, it's an album of poetry and music celebrating the small town that has shaped me, and, by extension, celebrating all small towns) but money is required to actually produce it. One is eager for the project to succeed, and hopeful that there are people out there who are even half as excited about it as you are. It's a state of mind that can lead to intrusive bumptiousness. Which is never a good look.

Head over the parapet is a dangerous stance, especially if one is shouting "Look at me!". Some people will go with it. Some people will throw stones. You just have to look at some of the reaction the remarkable Amanda Palmer gathers in her wake - for every 100 people willing to support her there are five operating in a state of seething discontent on social media.

So, I am in the midst of a crowdfunding campaign to raise money for an album and book of Little Metropolis, a poetry and music show written with my old composer friend Josef Reeve. I am determined to be straightforward. I will not bounce off walls. I have no intention of being militantly forward about coming forward smothered in flags and banners, bells and whistles. I hope that the work will, for the most part, speak for itself.

Here, then, is a brief explanation of the project, written as calmly as I can manage. Joe and I were commissioned by Stroud Fringe Festival to write a show for this year's festival. We decided to make it a show about the town, its people and the surrounding landscape. To aid us in this, we invited people to come and talk to us about their experiences of growing up in, or moving to, the town. Six obliged, and were witty and delightful. We made a collage of their words and set the collages to music alongside the poems. Their words partly inspired the poems and the music. The three elements fed off each other. The town community felt alive in the music and the words.

We presented the show at the Fringe Festival over the August Bank Holiday weekend. It was well received, I'm glad to say; well enough received that we mooted the idea of an album. The Fringe committee approved. So Joe and I went back into the studio to finish the record and the indefatigable and enthusiastic Sarah Phaedre Watson, who had been part of the commissioning Fringe committee, came on board to help us. She arranged for Marcus Walters, an excellent locally-based designer, to create the cover image (see the top of this blog) based on the beer mat from one of the pubs celebrated on the album. She introduced us to George Shilling, ace producer and musician, who is mastering the record as I type this. Joe and I owe a great deal of our ability to keep calm about this project to her.

We also agreed, willingly given that this is a suite of poetry and music that revels in a sense of community, that a percentage of any profits from the sale of this album would go back to the Stroud Fringe, in the hope that it would pay for more work to be commissioned from artists in the coming years.

We put the project live on Kickstarter, which you can find by clicking here.This happened three days ago. We have raised nearly a third of the target amount required to be able to pay for the production of the album in those three days. It is understandably hard not to become swivel-eyed with excitement in the face of such interest and generosity. We are intensely grateful to everyone who has supported us so far. We do, however, need to raise the full amount in order to be able to cover all the costs and allow us to quickly start putting a percentage of the profits from any sales back in to the community, so if you think that this is a project you might be able to support, by pre-ordering the album, the book, or even just purchasing a limited edition beer mat of the album cover for £3, we'd be delighted. It will help us, yes. But it will also help Stroud Fringe festival to keep the town's creative juices flowing over the coming years. We have 17 days left to raise the money.

If you can help, thank you! If you cannot, not to worry. We will keep calmly working away in the hope that this comes off.

Scattered through this blog are Soundcloud links to two excerpts from the album. We intend to put one more live in the coming days. Please have a listen if you have the time. I hope you enjoy them as much as we enjoyed making them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off into the woods of the Slad valley to get all traces of swivel-eyed and ridiculous excitement out of my system, where only the deer and the buzzards can see me. They're used to it, poor things, and know how to flee...