Icy Sedgwick's Blog, page 89

#FridayFlash - Weaving

Flames blazed in the wall braziers around the stone courtyard. Ornate clocks lined the columns of the cloister, though the hands never moved around their faces. Time hung suspended over the citadel of the Fates, its momentous occasions twinkling like stars in a false firmament.



The first sister sat on a stool, her eyes roving across the expanse above her. A large sack, its fabric the colour of midnight, lay on the ground at her feet. Every few moments, she reached into the sack, and drew forth a length of yarn. She wound it between and around her fingers, her eyes never leaving the celestial snapshot.



The second sister leaned over the loom, adjusting the shuttle before it rattled across the warp with its yarn cargo. She peered at the weave produced thus far, and frowned. Whole patches of muddy brown and rancid mustard marked the otherwise cheerful pattern. She wiggled her nail between the threads, but the yarn didn’t lie. It couldn’t lie.



The third sister roamed around the courtyard, staring into the darkness congealed in the corners. She was concerned by neither the wonders in the sky, nor the patterns of the loom. Images of solitude, and the eternal peace of oblivion, occupied her mind. She fashioned silence from the shadows, letting the gentle breeze catch her cobwebs of catatonic thoughts.



“I don’t like how this piece is turning out,” said the second sister.



“What’s wrong with it?” asked the first sister.



“Well it should be a cheerful pattern. It started out that way. But now all of these horrid colours are creeping in.” The second sister sat back, watching the shuttle do its work.



“So change the pattern,” replied the first sister.



The second sister got up and drifted across the courtyard. She disappeared into the cloister, and the rooms beyond.



“It’s so nice being outside for a change,” said the first sister.



“I notice it not,” replied the third.



“It’s such a pleasant evening.”



“It’s neither pleasant nor evening. It simply is.”



The first sister rolled her eyes and returned to her sack of yarn. A shooting star, a flare of stupendous endeavour, streaked across the blanket above. She smiled; it had been some time since anything positive echoed through Time.



The second sister returned empty-handed.



“Where are all the patterns, dear? I can’t find a single one for a happy ending. The whole cupboard is bare.”



“We’ve used them all up. There are no happy endings any more. There can simply be what will be.”



The third sister stopped roaming, and glided towards the loom.



“What?”



“I think what our dear little depressive means is that your patterns are going to get a whole lot muddier,” said the first sister.



The third sister peered down at the loom. She scowled.



“This pattern has gone on too long.”



She reached into the large pocket of her apron and pulled free a large pair of black shears. She severed the thread, and the snip of the shears reverberated around the courtyard.



A tiny ripple flickered in the firmament overhead. None of them noticed as a single light went out.

#GuestPost - Cyberpunk as Literary Genre

As you know, I like to hand over the reins to other writers here at the Blunt Pencil, and I'm always happy for people who know more about a topic than me to come and discuss it - variety, after all, is the spice of life! (Except I prefer paprika. But that's another story for another time) I've been chatting to cyberpunk author Colin F. Barnes on Twitter for a while, and I asked him if he'd come and talk about cyberpunk fiction - if I'm honest, I don't know much about it, since I prefer my punk more of the 'steam' variety. But enough from me, over to Colin...




* * *




Cyberpunk is one of those evocative words that often gets used in marketing for video games, films, and other visual arts. And for very good reason: the genre often features extrapolations of fashion, technology, architecture, and even physical appearance. So it naturally lends itself to a visual medium. See Blade Runner, or Ghost In The Shell as prime examples of this. But how does this sub-genre of science fiction portray itself in literature?



Hyper Reality and Interconnected Societies



One cannot talk about Cyberpunk in literature without referencing William Gibson’s classic novel, Neuromancer. It’s a touchstone of the genre and should be one of the first stops for anyone new to the world of cyberpunk. Within this book, Gibson expertly describes a near future where senses are turned up to the maximum; cities are illuminated by neon and giant screens, and humanity has augmented itself with technology. We are increasingly seeing a lot of this happening around us today.



One of the interesting things about Neuromancer is the prediction of the web and the Internet; this is a common theme amongst Cyberpunk—especially from the 80s where computing was just coming into the homes of ordinary people, and authors extrapolated how we would interact with the technology. Many stories feature networked computer systems, artificial intelligences, and characters that can manipulate these technologies.



More Than Just Technology



It’s fair to say that a lot of cyberpunk stories are centred on the technology and the humans that manipulate it to increase their talents/senses. But an often-overlooked aspect is the 'punk' part. Anarchic and dystopian settings regularly feature in a good cyberpunk story. The characters tend to be those living just outside of society’s rules: often criminals, hackers, or people intelligent enough to slip between the cracks and use the broken society to their advantage.



As we enter the information age, those who can control, aggregate, or create that information are the ones that rise to the top. We can see this today with the likes of Google, Facebook, and Twitter generating vast databases of information all generated by the people. A typical punk protagonist tends to be against the establishment, or looking for ways to break free from their increasingly restrictive grasp on their lives. In some senses, you could say these punks are anti-heroes. Much like the punks of the 70s.



Variations and Placement on the SF spectrum



Cyberpunk, much like horror or steampunk, can sometimes just be a flavour set atop another genre, or it can be wholly cyberpunk. It’s usually considered a sub-genre of science-fiction, and usually at the more realistic end as opposed to the more speculative end of the spectrum with such things as Space Opera or far-future stories. It’s not uncommon to find thrillers and noir settings with the Cyberpunk realm, especially as we move away from the 80s and early 90s where it had its heyday. We now see combinations of genres, such as cyberpunk/thriller, as our own technology starts to approach—and sometimes surpass—that of what was predicted in earlier novels.



It’s certainly a rich set of tropes and ideas that can be applied across the board of all speculative fiction. My own cyberpunk story, The Techxorcist, could be classified as a horror/sci-fi/thriller mashup, in that the story takes place in a cyberpunk future, but with elements of those other genres still visible within the tale.



Further resources



Being such a rich idea, there’s a lot of cyberpunk media available to you. For starters here’s a partial list to get you started if you wish to explore this fascinating genre.



Books


Sprawl Trilogy by William Gibson
Synners by Pat Cadigan
Snow Crash by Neale Stephenson
Cyberpunk by Bruce Bethke
Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan



Films


Blade Runner
The Matrix
Ghost In The Shell
Terminator
Videodrome



Comics/Graphic Novels


The Surrogates
Akira (also a film)
Transmetropolitan
HardDrive
Lady Mechanika





About Colin F. Barnes



Colin F. Barnes is a writer (and publisher with Anachron Press) of dark and daring fiction. He takes his influence from everyday life, and the weird happenings that go on in the shadowy locales of Essex in the UK. Colin likes to blend genres and is currently working on a Cyberpunk/Tech-thriller serial The Techxorcist. The introductory part, Rebirth, is currently available from Amazon, Smashwords, Lulu, Kobo, and Anachron Press.



Website: www.colinfbarnes.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/ColinFBarnes

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100003500528869

Help Needed: Blogging

I don't often talk about my day job on here, and to be honest, I'm not about to start now. However, I've been tasked with delivering a masterclass session about blogging for those foundation degree students who need to set up and produce a blog throughout their time here. I'm doing it because, being a writer with an active social media presence, I'm deemed to know what I'm talking about. OK, so a lot of my experience has come within blogging as a writer, not a designer, but the skills are transferable.



BUT. It's difficult to remember what it was like when I set up my first Blogger blog back in 2009 (first ever post is here), and a lot of what I know has been steadily accrued over that time. I've covered the likes of use of images (and copyright) and how to find blogs to follow, as well as drive traffic to your blog, but what I want to know is...


Have you got any specific questions about blogging that you want addressed?
What do you wish you'd known when you first got started?
What do you worry you're doing wrong?
What advice would you give to a new blogger?

Any answers will be helpful, just to make sure I give the students everything they need to start blogging and, more importantly, enjoy it!

[Book Review] Crooked Fang

I've featured a lot of Crooked Fang on my blog over the past few months, including a guest post from the very delicious Carrie Clevenger about turning blog serials into novels. It's now my very good honour to feature a review of the book itself! Enjoy...



Oh yay, another vampire, I hear you cry. Stop right there. Forget for a moment that Twilight ever existed, and give Crooked Fang a go. Why? Because sometimes you can almost forget that CF's hero, Xan Marcelles, is even a vampire. I prefer to think of him as a grumpy, whisky-drinking, chain-smoking bassist who's going to live for a really, really long time.



Basically, Xan lives in a bar named Pale Rider in Pinecliffe, Colorado. He does odd jobs and plays bass in his band, Crooked Fang. It's pretty clear he'd be happy with his quiet existence, not bothering anyone as long as they don't bother him, except real life has a way of intruding into his private world. If he's not dealing with abusive boyfriends or singers prone to tantrums, he's being dragged back to his old stamping ground, New Mexico, to track down an errant vampire. Yes, Xan hunts other vampires, and he's very good at it. This is not just any vampire, but rather a Nesferata, and it's an inventive touch that almost raises the possibility of racism among the vampires themselves. It's not just "humans" vs "vampires" - oh no, it's every bloodsucker for him/herself.



I followed Crooked Fang back when it was a blog serial, and I was excited to finally have a paperback copy in my hands. The gorgeous presentation aside, it's just one of those novels that you can actually describe as 'gripping'. I've never been a big fan of vampires so it stands testament to Carrie Clevenger's storytelling skills that I am a HUGE fan of Xan Marcelles. He's an incredibly likeable and plausible hero, carrying with him that 'reluctant hero' air that makes the likes of Snake Plisskin so cool. Xan also has an incredibly strong voice, so the book often feels like you're sat at the back of Pale Rider, and he's telling it to you over a drink. Clevenger pulls off the difficult task of making it feel like Xan's simply dictated the story to her, and I couldn't NOT fall for him a tiny bit. The secondary characters are also incredibly strong as Clevenger creates plausible characters that you either love or loathe, and I particularly love the banter with his friend, Scott.



I actually can't recommend Crooked Fang enough and I can't wait for the sequel to drop!



Five blunt pencils out of five!



You can buy Crooked Fang for the Kindle from Amazon, or buy the paperback from Createspace.

Celebrating The Guns of Retribution

Well today is the last day of my The Guns of Retribution celebration, since today marks the one year anniversary since it came out in paperback. Where does the time go, eh?



I just really wanted to thank everyone who's bought and reviewed it, and everyone who's enjoyed it and asked me to write another. I love working with my bounty hunter and I've been really glad to see people enjoy the Friday flashes I've put up over the last fortnight ( The Bounty and Mahko ). I also wanted to thank Heath Lowrance, Carrie Clevenger, Matt Pizzolato, Nerine Dorman, Tony Noland and Pete Newman for hosting me at their blog, and I want to thank Tony Bengtsson for dropping by at the Blunt Pencil and letting me interview him.



You can get Dead Man's Hand, the interconnected three-part story that relates to Guns, from Amazon (if you want to pay $1.23 or 77p and help fund my writing), or you can download it free in .mobi, .epub or PDF from my website.

#FridayFlash - Mahko

As part of my two week celebration of The Guns of Retribution, I decided to dedicate the two Friday flashes that fell within that period to my bounty hunter, Grey O'Donnell. Last week told the story of how Grey got into the bounty hunting business. A lot of people asked me how Grey met Mahko, so here is that story. Enjoy...





I never liked being indoors if I could help it, so when the blacksmith asked me to take four newly shod ponies up to the Apache camp, I damn near took his hand off in my hurry to say yes. I spent most of my days working in the livery or the blacksmiths, so I never said no to running errands.



My horse trotted along the road out of Retribution. Blue sky stretched in all directions and I sat back in the saddle to enjoy the sun on my face. It was a twenty minute ride out to the hills and I was damn well gonna enjoy it.



The Apaches had a bad reputation in Arizona but the band near Retribution just wanted to live quietly, not bothering anyone. Some of the folks in town thought the only good Apache was a dead Apache, so it fell to people like me to run between the two. Sometimes I took supplies, sometimes I brought things back. That day I was delivering their ponies.



The road led up into the hills and I let Applejack slow to a walk. She was my beautiful grey and white mare and I figured she'd enjoy the exercise. Mr Foster was expecting me back at the livery but on a day like that, you couldn't help taking your sweet time.



A thin scream broke the peace and quiet. I whipped around, trying to spot the source. It sounded like a woman, and I thought of my Peggy. My hand strayed to my Colt at my belt, just in case.



Another scream, this time followed by a string of shouts. I couldn't make out the words but it sounded like some kind of taunting. That didn't sit well with me, so I climbed down from Applejack, drew my gun, and made my way up the rocky outcrop to my right.



Four Apache boys, probably about sixteen, crowded around something heaped on the ground. Three of them held sticks, and the fourth held a horse whip. He raised it above his head and brought it down on the heap. Another scream.



"Hey!"



They turned around when I shouted. They all cowered in toward each other, their sticks twitching at their sides. One of them stared at my Colt.



"Get away from there!"



They kept scowling, refusing to move. I holstered my gun and made a 'shoo' motion with my arms - the sudden movement made them scatter. The boy with the whip turned, his face full of fear, and he tossed the whip into the bushes.



I knelt on the ground beside the heap, which turned out to be a much younger Apache, probably about thirteen. Bruises covered his arms and legs, and livid red slashes opened his bare back.



"Hey there, young fella."



He waved away my hands, crawling to his knees by himself. Tears ran clear tracks through the dirt on his face.



"Are you alright?"



He nodded.

I stood up and he slowly pulled himself to his feet. He swayed, and grasped my arm. The four bullies lurked at the back of the clearing, pressed against the rocks. I growled at them and they clambered away. I turned back to the boy.



"You live up at the camp?"



He nodded again. I led him out of the clearing and back towards the horses. I helped him climb up onto one of the Apache ponies, and climbed up into Applejack's saddle.



"I'm headin' up there, I'll take you home."



He didn't say a word but he stared at me the whole way back. We reached the camp and all eyes fell on us - I shivered with so many people staring at me. The Apache leader made his way through the silent group - I think Nantan was the only one who spoke English, besides the boy. I did all of my trading through him.



"What has happened?" he asked.



I told Nantan what I'd seen. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the group. I spotted the four bullies loitering behind a knot of fellas so big they damn near looked like trees. I pointed them out and Nantan grimaced.



"They will be punished."



"I brought your ponies back, all shod and ready to go." I pointed to the horses. I felt uncomfortable with so many people staring at me, and I didn't want to get caught up in Apache business. Suddenly I forgot about how beautiful the day was, and I just wanted to get back to town.



Nantan helped the boy down from the horse. Instead of running off to find his momma, the boy stood in front of his chief, staring up at me.



"Mr O'Donnell, I should introduce you. This is my son, Mahko."



"Well hey there, Mahko."



I held out my hand. A few of the Apaches gasped - guess they didn't see that many white folk holding out hands to them. I don't think I ever understood the hatred. Half of Retribution's population came from Irish settlers, so it wasn't like this was their land. They just found it. Mahko shook my hand, his grip surprisingly firm for a bruised, whipped kid. 




"You have a friend for life, I think." Nantan smiled.



"Just doin' what I'm sure he'd do for me."



Nantan untied the ponies and another Apache led them away. I tipped my hat, which raised an embarrassed titter from the ladies, and set off back down the path through the hills.

I turned back and Mahko still stared at me. He raised his hand in a silent greeting, and I figured Nantan was right. I'd made a friend for life.




* * *


If you enjoyed that, you can buy The Guns of Retribution for the Kindle US or Kindle UK. 

How the West was won

A funny thing happened on Saturday. A lot of my Twitter followers and Facebook friends started enthusing about the Western, purely because that week's Doctor Who episode had a Western theme. It's amazing, considering how many people said they weren't interested in The Guns of Retribution because they "don't like Westerns".



The Western is a genre unique to America but it's not a genre that appeals solely to Americans. I talked about this in one of my guest posts last week, but I think that the Western as a genre is not as staid or outdated as some people seem to think. The True Grit remake is more recent than the John Wayne films people seem to have in mind when they think of the Western, and look at the success of Deadwood or Hell on Wheels on TV.





Within literature, the Western has never truly gone away, but there are definitely writers working towards making it a viable and popular genre once again. There is still a market for the more 'classic' Western tale, as the success of Edward A. Grainger's Cash Laramie story collections proves. I've reviewed volume I and volume II on my blog and I absolutely love his US marshal, Laramie. Raised by Native Americans, and partnered by the black (and totally fantasic) Gideon Miles, the stories look at issues around race, while continuing to deliver adventure and action. Grainger has also taken the unusual step of allowing other writers to tell stories using his creations - Heath Lowrance wrote the fantastic Miles to Little Ridge , while Wayne D. Dundee wrote Manhunter's Mountain. I think it's this almost collaborative approach that stands testament to how supportive the Western community is.



Short stories certainly seem to be the way to go, and Matt Pizzolato's collection, The Wanted Man, offers eight stories for just 99c. It's available both for the Kindle and the Nook, as well as in paperback for $5.99. Four of the stories feature his antihero, Wesley Quaid, who now stars in his own forthcoming novella, Outlaw. But Pizzolato doesn't just write fiction - he also edits The Western Online, dedicated to all things Western.



Thing is, I'm a firm believer than the Western is a genre that plays very well with other genres. If you like your historical romances, then Beth Trissel should be your go-to gal. Cowboys & Aliens proved that sci-fi works with the Western, and Back to the Future III did much the same. There's even a sub genre, named the 'weird Western', and Heath Lowrance has two stories available that mix horror with the Western. Starring his hero, Hawthorne, they're a good blend of generic elements and should appeal to fans of either genre. That Damned Coyote Hill was a spooky read, and The Long Black Train is the other Hawthorne title. Hopefully fans of the weird Western will appreciate my sequel to The Guns of Retribution, in which Grey O'Donnell fights a foe far stranger than a crooked sheriff. To Kill A Dead Man is on my 'to finish writing' list. In the meantime, you can always read my three-part Dead Man's Hand, which is available for the Kindle.



I just hope that people will give the Western a chance - it's a strong, vital and enjoyable genre, a heady mix of historical fiction and the action/adventure stories we enjoyed as kids. I'm not even saying that just to get you to read my book - I'm saying it on behalf of all of us.

The Guns of Retribution - week two

We're into week two of my two-week celebration of The Guns of Retribution, all in aid of its first birthday, and I thought I'd post a quick recap of what I've posted, and where, so far.



On 10 September, I popped over to Psycho Noir to discuss the pulp genre, and how it relates to The Guns of Retribution. Pulp is a fascinating, and often maligned, type of fiction, and I'm hoping that more people will take a chance on stories that just want to entertain. After all, getting people reading and escaping their mundane existence is what got me writing in the first place.



On 12 September, I stopped by Carrie Clevenger's blog to discuss the challenge of writing a Western. Obviously the Western has the same sorts of research issues that any form of historical fiction involves, but the Western comes equipped with far bigger problems pertaining to mythos and cultural heritage, and I tried to talk about them in a fairly eloquent manner!



On 13 September, I stopped by at Matt Pizzolato's blog to discuss the appeal of the Western, particularly to those outside of the US (such as yours truly). Hopefully it'll answer a question I'm often asked - i.e. why did I write a Western in the first place?



Today, I'm over at Nerine Dorman's blog to talk about the evolution of characters - specifically Grey O'Donnell. Did you know he started out life as an outlaw?





In case you've missed things here at the Blunt Pencil, I interviewed UK-based country singer Tony Bengtsson on Wednesday, and posted a Grey O'Donnell themed Friday Flash, named The Bounty , which tells the story of how Grey got into bounty hunting in the first place.



My three-part collection, Dead Man's Hand, has come to the end of its free run on Amazon - you can still pick it up for $1.23 or 77p, or you can download it FREE as a mobi, epub or PDF file from my website until Monday 24 September.



Enjoy!

#FridayFlash - The Bounty

As part of my two week celebration of The Guns of Retribution, I decided to dedicate the two Friday flashes that fell within that period to my bounty hunter, Grey O'Donnell. A lot of people asked how Grey got into the bounty hunting business, so here's that story. Enjoy...





My momma always told me that sometimes you just have to treat yourself to a little slice of luxury. I told myself that as I sat on the veranda of the general store, where a travelling barber lathered up my neck. I was never too keen on people being near my throat with a straight razor, but I can't say I was too fond of growing a beard, either.



Mahko lurked in the shadows inside the store, peering out of the window to see what the barber was doing. Most folk in those parts didn't take too kindly to having an Apache around, even if he was only fourteen, but the owner of the store let him earn a few cents by catching rats. I'd earned a few dollars helping to break in horses – it wasn't much but damn, what else could we do? All I knew was riding and shooting.



A commotion kicked off in the street and the barber stepped away to see what was happening. I sat up in the chair and looked past him. People were coming out of the businesses of Main Street to see a guy riding into town on an Indian pony. They gasped and pointed but what else was he gonna ride? Guy was clearly an Arapaho, and no one knew ponies like the Natives.



"Somebody! Help me!" He was shouting and hollering over the excited chatter of the townsfolk. He pointed to a bundle draped across his knees. An arm swung loose – dry red rivers ran along the tanned skin.



"Well would you look at that?" The barber turned to me and gestured over his shoulder. The Arapaho drew level with the general store, and I stood up behind the barber. He wiggled a way a little – I guess some men get threatened by six feet and two inches of armed stranger.



"Help me!" The Arapaho got agitated, and started wailing in his saddle. The wooden box opposite the general store was the sheriff's office, and it wasn't long before Sheriff Oates came out. He was a tall fella, and skinny, with a raggy grey moustache and skin that looked like candle wax. He leaned against the doorframe of his office and stared down at the Arapaho.



“What’s all this yellin’ for?”



“My daughter…she has been murdered!”



The Arapaho threw back the patchy blanket covering the body over his knees. A deep gash to the throat explained all of the bloodstains. Her unseeing eyes stared at me, her head upside down against her papa’s thigh.



“Why you tellin’ me ‘bout it? You got law up on that reservation, ain’t yer?” Sheriff Oates spread his hands wide and looked at the assembled townsfolk. They nodded and chattered amongst themselves. Reminded me of the folk in Retribution – didn’t want Natives messing up their town. Damn idiots.



“It was not a reservation killing. It was a gang from this town.”



The Arapaho glared at Sheriff Oates. Couldn’t help glaring along with him. I didn’t need to turn around to know Mahko was glaring too. He wasn’t a fan of the Arapaho but he sure as hell didn’t like reservations.



“Which gang?”



“The Stanton boys. They took my daughter while she gathered wood.”



That set the crowd murmuring again, only the excitement sounded more like worry. Sheriff Oates frowned and I guessed he was worried too. Those Stanton boys probably did that kind of thing all too often.



“Ain’t my problem, friend.”



“It is your problem, and if you will not help, then you are not my friend. These men are from your town. They must be punished.” The Arapaho punctuated every sentence with a jab of his finger.



“I’m real sorry but you won’t find any justice here.”



Sheriff Oates turned and walked back into his office. The Arapaho looked around at the crowd. He held out his hands, like he was begging them for help. I guess in a way he was.



“Won’t someone help me?”



“Go back to your rez, and leave us white folks in peace.”



I growled and the barber moved further down the veranda. Mahko climbed out of the open window and stood behind me, peering around my arm. I could feel anger coming off him like heat from a white hot coal. My own anger sent my hand to my gun. Murder is murder, no matter what colour you are.



“Won’t anyone help me? I will pay!”



That swung it. Hell, I’d have done it for free if I could, but this guy needed justice, and Mahko and me needed to eat.



“I’ll help. How many of these Stanton boys are there?” I moved right up to the rail so the townsfolk could see me, and shouted down to the Arapaho. He broke into a wide grin, relief burning in his eyes. The other folk just stared.



“Three. I cannot leave my family for long to fetch them myself,” he replied.



"You go on home and leave this with me. Hey, Oates!”



I bawled across the street. The sheriff reappeared in the doorway and I just knew the bastard had been listening.



“This ain’t your concern,” he said, his eyes flicking between Mahko and my Colt. If he guessed which of them was most deadly, I figured he'd guess wrong.



“Seeing as how you’re too scared to go get these boys, if I bring them into town, will you do what’s right?”



“I ain’t scared –”



“Will you do your job if I do mine?”



The sheriff worked his mouth open and shut like he wanted to say something, but just didn’t have the guts. Eventually he lost all his bluster and nodded. I looked down at the Arapaho and smiled.



“Looks like you got yourself a deal.”



He nodded to me, wheeled his horse around, and rode back along the main street, scattering townsfolk as he went. I turned to Mahko, and he grinned.



“Well, Mahko. Looks like we’re goin’ into the bounty huntin’ business!”




* * *


If you enjoyed that, you can buy The Guns of Retribution for the Kindle US or Kindle UK. My three-part Old West story, Dead Man's Hand, is also FREE until Saturday, and features the first chapter of Guns as a sample.

[Interview] Tony Bengtsson

As part of my two week celebration of all things Old West, I thought I'd change the focus of my blog for a day, swinging the focus away from writing and onto music. I first encountered singer-songwriter Tony Bengtsson at a Wild West revue held at Bar Loco in Newcastle upon Tyne, and I've been a fan ever since. As his brand of Country really appeals to me, I asked if I could interview him here at the Blunt Pencil and he very graciously said yes! So pull up a pew and find out what makes this talented artist tick...





Sounds a bit of an obvious question, but what made you choose country as a genre, as opposed to more obviously 'English' genres?

Well to be honest I think it was more that Country, or at least Americana, that chose me. My dad used to listen to a lot of music and I just grew up listening to what he listened to. A lot of what he liked was 60’s poppy rock and roll but it was always artists like Kenny Rodgers and Creedence Clearwater Revival that stuck out for me. Real songs about real problems!



Also, Films and TV had a big influence. The film Convoy, and shows like The Dukes of Hazzard with WC McCall and Waylon Jennings singing the respective theme tunes, just did it for me! That and the whole load of cars and trucks chasing each other!



Nowadays it seems like a lot of the British music scene is more about fashion and what you look like, rather than having anything real to say. And that’s what I love about Country. It’s still real.



Do you think country as a genre has changed too much from its early days and is now just a form of pop music, or do you think there is enough wiggle room for artists to pursue a more traditional sound?

You’ll always have a pop version of any music genre. It’s all about making money by appealing to the lowest common denominator. That’s not to say all popular music is bad, but I do believe there is good and bad music. You could say that in the day, Johnny Cash was popular music. He made the charts, was a big name etc, but he stayed true to his roots as an artist, even releasing an album of hymns he learned from his mother!

Eventually genres cross and a lot of modern Country like Brad Paisley, Keith Urban and Taylor Swift is all very polished and hyper-produced, and can all be classed as pop. I don’t think this is a good or bad thing, it’s just what happens when technology improves and listeners are listening to more music than ever these days. Record companies have to compete in an ever growing marketplace so it’s inevitable I think.

On the other hand, you have modern bands like the Steeldrivers who are a wonderful example of original yet traditional bluegrass. So to answer your question, there’s always room to wiggle!



Is the reality TV format killing music, or will fans always go looking for the music that they like, regardless of what Simon Cowell tells them to buy?

I never know how to answer this question. I’m in two minds, but am a little more worried than I would have been say 20 years ago or more.



Firstly, TV ‘talent shows’ are in no way a new thing, we’ve had Opportunity Knocks and New Faces for years in this country, and they’ve spawned some good acts. However, we also had a thriving pub and social club network where bands and comedians could work their apprenticeship. If people wanted to be entertained they only had to go down the street and there’d be some form of live act on at their local. The difference these days is the lack of opportunity for young artists due to a few modern day circumstances like all night TV, cheap supermarket alcohol and economic recession which brings extra problems, like the closing of key entertainment venues and live music pubs.



All of this makes Saturday night Cowell fests all the more important to some people and as a result we’re slowly creating a culture of spoon fed perfectly recorded music to the masses and an increasing impatience of live music and what live music actually sounds like.



Luckily, I think musicians are a resilient breed and rather than caving in to these sorts of things will adapt and become more creative in their attempts to be heard, and as a result, fans will always go out of their way to look for the music that they like! I’m a fan at the end of the day and for me there’s nothing more exciting than discovering a new band and claiming them as your own!



Lots of artists make a name for themselves after their songs are featured in adverts. Would you ever sell one of your songs in that way, or would you prefer to be associated with movies/TV?

I’d love to hear one of my songs on an advert! As long as it’s not for McDonald’s or women’s products ha-ha! Seriously though I can’t afford to be too precious about my songs and if I thought somebody was interested in my music for an advert then I’d certainly consider it!



Obviously film and TV would be far greater kudos but we’ve all got to pay the rent right? What I will say however, is that I really don’t get how lame advert songs are at the minute! Far too light and fluffy for my liking!



Do you think digital formats and the Internet has made it easier for musicians to reach new fans as they no longer need to be signed to a huge label?

I think this goes hand in hand with the question about reality TV. The internet is a fantastic tool for unsigned artists as it’s a great way to have your music heard by far more people than playing your home town every week. It’s undoubtedly mad it far easier for musicians to reach new fans not only locally but worldwide!

If you’re savvy enough you can really make your music pay aswell. There are online distribution companies that will (for a small fee) distribute your music to places like Amazon, iTunes, Spotify and so on. Obviously people need to know you’ve done this – and this is where social networking sites come into their own. For next to nothing, bands can have a website, Facebook page, and a link to buy their album on Amazon and iTunes. That would have been unthinkable when I started playing in a band nearly 20 years ago!

Publicity and good friends are everything as an unsigned artist and your internet presence has to be big enough to stand out in this incredibly saturated independent music marketplace!



And finally, where do you get your inspiration from, and would you ever consider writing any songs about literary characters (hint hint!)?

Lyrically, my inspiration comes from everyday things that happen to me or people I know, (usually tied to romantic relationships!) or just general observations. That could be anything from a breakup to my dislike of the X Factor to the death of my dad as in The Fire. Anything I feel strongly enough about to write about I suppose! It’s hard for me to come up with lyrics to a song if I feel like I’m making stuff up. I just haven’t got the imagination!



Musically I write ALL the time. My phone has a recorder application and it’s absolutely full of music without lyrics! I’ll hear a chord change somewhere (could be and advert, TV show theme tune, anything!) and there’ll be something that I like in it and use it to come up with a sequence of chords. Then I come up with a melody – usually after a drink or two...



It always works that way round. Chords first, melody second, lyrics last! Obviously I have bands that I love and there’ll be certain songs that come out of other songs (shouldn’t say that really!) but every musician has musicians who influence them!



As for writing about literary characters, I think I might have to give that a go! I have thought about it but I imagine it’d be a lot harder than writing from experience! I feel a lot safer doing that!



You can find out more at www.tony-bengtsson.com - and check out The Fire on YouTube!