Mission statement

So. Here it is. Another blog that will no doubt be abandoned in the next month. Perhaps week. Who knows, who can say.

This is probably going to be a pretty inane, pointless blog but it might finally get me out of the wretched cave that is music journalism. Don't get me wrong, I love writing about music, but I'm sure I pigeonholed myself a little too quickly back in journalism school.

Those were the days that everyone seemed to be fighting to find a voice in their writing, fighting to find some interest to pick up on and do something, anything with. Christ knows they were dark times. Walking into a £5,000 MSc course and being told that jobs were an impossibility unless you were the elite in your field doesn't exactly illuminate that darkened doorway of ambition that is your future.

So there was my chance: music journalism. And how I seized it. Over the past four years I've penned words for a multitude of rags and 'zines; ripped the shredded wheat out of fibreless bands; stacked superlative upon superlative on a flush of chancers with synths and a penchant for abstract lyricism. Oh and had the crap kicked out of me by a few who have taken offence at my less than favourable missives.

Of course, it's been and still can be a whole lot of fun, but the early zest has dissipated over the years, weighed down by the same stagnant responses the same god damn questions and those excruciatingly feeble comments from an anonymous 'community' of critics' critics. Add to this marriage and subsequent 'responsibilities' and you've got to the crux of my vexation with music-based pensmanship.

Words by Billy Hamilton, then, may very well contain references to music. It may even make explicit gesticulating hand signals music's way. However, it will, with any luck document the progress of someone trying to find out just what kind of a writer he actually is.