Little Fish
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New line-up →
Juju has written a little blog about our new bandmates, the future of the Fish and our imminent tour of China.
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Little Fish: a 2012 update →
I woke up this morning with a feeling that I should write something to you to explain a little about what has been going on in Fishville, behind the scenes, within our Rubik’s Cube, in my head.
Juju has written an important message for the Fish fans. An update. An explanation.
It’s long, so get yourself a cup of tea and go and read it…
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Hi, I’m Juju. You might already know who I am but if you don’t then let me introduce myself. I play guitar and sing for Little Fish.
We are a very human band. No matter how hard we try to be untouchable (we gave up on that a long time ago as it was boring) or utterly professional (we have our own style), it has become clear to us all that we will never be perfect for the reason that everything we touch seems to, at some point, fall apart or break, or snap, or crackle, and most of the time, these things happen live on stage. I wonder if people who come to see us presume it to be part of the show now? I even went to the guitar shop the other day to buy myself two new expensive guitar leads as I wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t run into any problems playing our acoustic shows in Paris. I wanted to be the professional that I am. Well, obviously I didn’t work. One of the leads I bought was duff. I am ‘equipment-cursed’.
Today, I thought I would post these two pictures. One is of my trusted acoustic guitar, broken of course and the other of Ben’s Farfisa, also broken.
I have had this guitar for about seven years and I loved it very much. The sound it gave me was what I formed the sound of Little Fish on. It was a punky, edgy, feisty and rhythmic guitar. I wrote all of Little Fish’s songs on it. I had to battle with that guitar for it even to give me a sound which is half the reason why Little Fish songs become so loud and emotionally aggressive. I had to write this way so as to get a sound out of the bloody thing. This is why I loved this guitar. I liked the toughness of it. Today however, it is broken. It finally gave way. The hole that I had worn into its side through strumming meant that the structure could no longer take the pressure and tension of the strings, and so it caved in. I am quite sad about this.
Although I am quite sad about this, I also feel revitalised. I have new creative ideas in my head and I feel like I need a new tool to write them with. I need a new sound to work with. I need a new partner for the next part of my journey. Today, I am going to go the same shop that I bought my trusty Yari and see if they have anything that catches my eye the same way that my Yari did all those years ago.
Oh! And secondly - Yes. Yesterday. Truck. Yesterday at Truck festival, our Farfisa broke. Of course it did. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of us to have to go through some sort of technical breakdown ( I mean, even at our first show on the Saturday, I broke my string on the first strum and had to borrow a guitar from a member of the audience). As I say, things always go wrong for us. But I love this because it makes us human. It is our imperfections that makes us who we are after all, right?!
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[Flash 10 is required to watch video]Sitting in the rain in Swindon waiting for our soundcheck at the 12 Bar. Juju chats about Swindon, demoing new songs and listening to PJ Harvey’s new album.
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To Love Another
They both sat back to back. For no reason. For no reason other than neither of them wanted to look into one another’s eyes.
“Did you tell her?”
There was a long silence. He said nothing.
“Did you tell her?” She asked agitated.
“No” he replied.
She would often think about him; the race, the fall, the changing of the tide. She would sit out in the darkest of nights, staring out into the sky. Alone. The sky had been full of stars; the galaxy of angels she would reach out to, but never could she touch.
“Why do we love?”
“I don’t know” he replied.
She got up. With the weight of hers gone, he leant backwards, almost touching the grass beneath.
“Then neither do I.”
She turned. She walked away. To love another.
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Little Fish Song Portrait
Our songs are about people. They write away our sickness. They define us by what we are not. They speak of chaos and confusion, relationships, their conflicts and our need for cures. The songs run alongside all that we live; our failings, our contradictions, our hungers, our excesses, our exits, our shadows. A wound opened by betrayal, love, life, is slow to heal. If we bow our head and look to the ground, it is because we are searching for the things we have lost. Mostly the songs speak of the constant strain living has on the nerves, so as to make sense of it. They speak of people with possibilities, of junk in need of hunger and of the pains within us. People waiting on street corners and in cafeterias for love and life to happen, all this knowing, that one day affection will burn us and we will make it to happiness. It came to us to sing, to play as the songs ran along with us. Little Fish.
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The Night Breaks Over Oxford
You can keep my skin as long as you talk my name. That I read that my name is still written on the pages of your heart; the water in my river begins to talk to me and with it, the birds, the stones on the path and the trees and the grass, and my grandparents who have left this world, and all my old friends that filled the river banks at my side. You make the dead sing. You are from a different world. And under our different skies, we join up our dreams under the same old questioning moon. I’m a child that simply took too long to grow up and now, reality is closing in on me. How did you get free? You gave me a dream and now it is my illness. I can feel the wind turn against me. These are the things that I think about as the night breaks over Oxford.
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The snow has settled. Today, we were going start recording some of our new songs in a studio in London, but unfortunately, the snow has locked us in Oxford and we are going nowhere. Hopefully the roads will be better tomorrow. Apart from that, we are approaching the end of another year. Last year, at this time, I remember we had just finished touring with Alice In Chains and were in the process of recording a Radiohead cover for Children In Need. We chose to record the song ‘Just’. I remember that we were recording up to 11pm on New Year’s Eve and were back in the studio at lunchtime on New Year’s Day. Well, to be honest, this schedule suited me, as I wasn’t in the best of states at the end of last year and sleeping pills were fast becoming my main vice; my heart had been broken. All that has changed now. I am happy and Little Fish is preparing for a new start. We will start to record our second album early in the New Year and we cannot wait.
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I Wanted Its Vitamins
I Wanted Its Vitamins.
It would be great to be on the road. It would make more sense for me to be lonely. Maybe then, I would have something new to write about? A new ocean. A new sky. A new sea for the dawn to dance above. A song about religion isn’t enough for me anymore. Its crucifix doesn’t fit me. Its uniform doesn’t fit. Discard me. Discarded. It would make more sense for me write about my walk as I have been chasing the sun all day.
I walk along the face of a housing estate. The road is long. I stop and wait at the cross road. I wait for the little man to change from red to green. I zig-zag amongst the people. A bus nearly catches my jacket. I only just manage to avoid a motorcyclist. I spit here and there. I walk fast. My eyes are alert. I cross the square and walk into Soho. I was looking for the sun.
For some time now I have thought about looking after myself more. I want to finish with the tragic existence of constantly trying to give up smoking and finding my way. I want to educate my spirit and think positively. I think to myself “Don’t let yourself be beaten”.
I walk. I walk for a good half - hour. I know that the sky has gone grey. I think to myself that I can still be happy even without the sun.
To return home, I wait for the the underground tube. I read the paper a little. ‘London Lite’, how ironic! I like the Northern Line. I see a young man look out of the window and he reminds me of myself. Perhaps I can comfort him? A song I have just written comes to mind.
‘Don’t let yourself be beaten, Cos nothing’s gonna stop you now, Put everything into what you’ve been given, And life won’t leave you with empty hands, Cos nothing’s gonna stop you, No-one’s gonna stop you, Nothing’s gonna stop you’.
Then I remember what it is that I am to do. I remind myself that I am not to meet with you. These melodies that I write make me believe in things that are not true. That I am a song-writer. That I sing for a living. That I no longer live at home. That I am free and independent. That I have walked the Himalayas and crossed Africa, from East to West, from the North to the South. What lies. How silly of me.
The doors open. It is around six o’clock at night. I fry myself an egg and pour myself a glass of water. The weather has cooled. I have chased the sun all day. I wanted its vitamins.
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Never Stay Dancing On The Spot (was our choice already made when we came into this world?)
Was our choice already made when we came to this world? I can’t seem to find any answers; not to my questions, to the rain or to myself. We will always deny a truth that hurts, one we are scared of. We always want to be re-assured and so most will stay put in the security that they need.
I believe in the simple things in life, so often, we chase after the unimportant; each day things we have to achieve. The problems are that I must learn to distinguish the necessary from the true. Why not see and make use of our eyes?
Do we know what life is? What is the worth of bread? If we really knew who we were, we wouldn’t spend our lives counting money behind a desk. I have never lost sight of my dreams. All that is dream is the most solid of truths that I can think of. This is not so much a dream. All that can be expressed in words can be a part of life. I respect my faith and aspirations, and it is through these that I have chosen to live my life. In that, I recognise myself, I speak through. I am who I am. Or at least I am becoming myself. Slowly learning to be. I live in the present. I remind myself of my past. I anticipate the future. I am trying to know who it is that I am. When time is clear to me, when I scrunch my eyes, what else can I see?
Man believes what he sees, so give him eyes.
I will continue my road without giving up, letting go, release. I will follow my life, my leader. Each day, I learn flesh, my bone, unearth myself. I do what I love. What about morals? Be vigilant. By being too moral you can deprive yourself of beautiful things that life may bring. Aim further than morality. Don’t simply be good - but be good for something; for a reason. Know that you are alone in this world and do not count on companions.
Then there is the fear of asking myself if I am good or bad, whether my life is true or false. I simply cover my faults with shame and live with humour as whatever I chose to do, I must do with confidence, without waiting for more light but being careful that I have enough. To wait? Have I not waited long enough already?
Before it is too late and before I go, let me tell you this. Do all that you can to keep yourself standing in this world. At the heart of this labyrinth is our mind’s eye, its pupil, the black stone of our lives. Follow the things that you love and your vices will stay behind you. The stone of an astroid is nearly a star. The law of the land is for our feet and the law of the heavens is for our heads, so never stay dancing on the spot.
Was our choice already made when we came into this world?
Baffled & Beat
Juju: “I’ll sit by the window and watch the morning traffic. Dying is the easy part, it’s the living that’s hard”
