INDIE VIBE – SONGWRITER or SCRIBE

Ah, folks, here we are again, fingers flying across the strings—or maybe that's just me dreaming of a good old guitar bend. For some of you, "banging away" might conjure up entirely different scenes, but hey, let's keep it musical for now.

Lately, quite a few folks have cornered me with questions about my songwriting process: How do I do it? Where does the spark come from? I've touched on this before in these ramblings—it's all about letting the inspiration pour through like a sudden rainstorm, no overthinking, just capturing the flow. Editing? That's for later, if at all. Songwriting's no different from penning a novel, a poem, or a screenplay. Sure, a polish here and there can sharpen the blade of your idea, honing that raw vision into something that cuts deep and true. But get it down first; the muse doesn't wait.

Today was one of those days, the kind where the coffee's strong and the notebook's open wide. I dove headfirst into the pile—over 30 fresh songs I've scribbled out in recent months. For me, it's simple: I fire up the guitar (depending on the mood), play each one straight through, start to finish, just as it spilled out. No frills, no band yet. As the notes roll, I'm jotting mental sticky notes—arrangement tweaks here, a vocal melody nudge there. Mostly, it's about carving out the fat, ditching any filler that dilutes the heart. I want a song that's lean and mean: tight arrangement, hooky melody that punches the message home without apology. Sometimes that means slashing a line or two, or slipping in a word that flips the whole vibe. And don't sleep on your voice—the timbre, the delivery. A gravelly whisper can turn a rocker into a confessional ballad. If you're out there scribbling your own tunes, file that away: your vocal approach is a secret weapon, a shape-shifter for the soul of the song.

My songwriting pals? They say I'm brutal on myself—and on the catalog. Guilty as charged. Every few months, I round up the new batch, like I did today, and put 'em all on trial. Does this one hold water? Do I believe in it? Is it tough enough to stand tall in a setlist, or does it crumble under the lights? Invariably, about a dozen hit the scrap heap. I used to stash 'em in the "song garage" for spare parts—lyrics or riffs to cannibalize later. But here's the truth I've learned: anything worth salvaging ghosts its way back, reborn in some fresh form down the line. Tossing the rest? It's liberating. Forces the well to refill, pushes me to dig deeper. That's the scribe's life—ruthless, rewarding, and always hungry for the next line.

Speaking of which, this cull-and-create rhythm is what fuelled Outside Within, my latest dive into the deep end. Recorded live in the studio with the band in just seven raw hours—no overdubs, no safety net—it captures that unfiltered flow I chase. Songs like "Courage Comes" emerged from exactly this: inspiration unchecked, then honed just enough to breathe on their own. If you're digging the indie grind like I am, grab a copy on the site, stream it wherever, and let it remind you why we do this. The road's crooked, but damn, it's ours.

Time to get back at it—strings to tune, stories to chase. Till next time, keep the fire lit.

Cheers,  

GB

Here's a song I wrote in honour of our veterans. Lest we forget...