5th May 2010

I haven’t written anything in this blog for a while. It’s been a long, dark winter, both literally and figuratively. Sometimes it seems that nothing will grow in the dark, but moss is often very beautiful and that grows in the dark. This thought came to me one day and it was like seeing light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, and new songs began to take shape. The songs themselves seem to have taken shape very easily and quickly, but really they are like seeds growing under the earth, in the dark. We’re only aware of them when they break through to the light.
I planted some seeds on my balcony just so I could watch them grow slowly. A symbolic gesture I suppose, as that is what seems to be happening to my music.
For a while now I have been gradually less interested in arranging and interpreting traditional songs. That’s not to say I don’t think they’re beautiful or interesting or relevant. They are all that and more. It’s just that more and more, I find I want to write my own songs, saying the things I have to say. Recently, I also find that I want to experiment with new sounds and textures. Let’s just say I’m planting some seeds and helping them to grow, and I look forward to sharing them with you.

28th February 2010

For all Celtic Music Fans, I’d like to introduce you to a lovely blog. It’s beautifully written and set out, and there are lots of interesting things to see and read. There is also an interview with me at the moment on the home page if you want to have a look.
The blog is called The Celtic Music Fan and this is the link:

http://celticmusicfan.wordpress.com/

Verso Casa

15th February, 2010

A few years ago I brought out a book, “Songs in Time”. This book was really intended for Italian listeners. As so many people in Italy had asked me to tell them about the songs I sang, I decided to select some of my favourites from the Scottish and Irish tradition, and, with the help of an Italian writer, Fausto Lazzari, I translated them into Italian. I also included four songs of my own. The natural diversity of the two languages is such that a certain amount of poetic licence and elasticity is needed to retain the natural beauty of the verse.
Here is my song, Going Home, from the album, Going Home, and underneath, the Italian translation.




Verso Casa

Guardami volare come un uccello,
Volo sopra le terre e i mari,
E torno verso casa
Come fa l’acqua del fiume

Cambiano i colori dell’autunno
E le stagioni si mescolano,
I fiori sbucano dalla neve
Incuranti dei venti del nord

Guardami volare come un uccello,
Volo sopra le terre e i mari,
E torno verso casa
Come fa l’acqua del fiume

Vedo risalire la grande balena,
Il dono più bello della natura.
Le nostre anime s’incontrano
In questa notte incantata.

Guardami volare come un uccello,
Volo sopra le terre e i mari,
E torno verso casa
Come fa l’acqua del fiume

Forte il faro vedo brillare,
Guidarmi con la sua luce
Nella vista di un’alba chiara
E il mio amore corre verso di me

Voleremo insieme
Sopra colline e montagne più alte,
Tornando a casa
Come l’acqua del fiume verso il mare.

"what are your influences?"

10th February, 2010

This is a question I find very hard to answer. I suppose the most comprehensive answer would be, “everything I’ve ever heard and seen, and everything that’s ever happened to me”. I’m not really conscious of specific influences when I write or perform. Although obviously, being classically trained with Celtic roots those are the more evident, immediate, wider influences.
Often I will write a song and seemingly, it comes flowing out readily and easily, but I suspect it’s just that the song has been subconsciously growing and then one day I write it down.
We are just as influenced by things that affect us negatively as by things that affect us positively. This is as true of music as it is of life. I’ve heard and played music that has moved me to tears. I remember when I was 19 playing Michael Tippet’s “A Child for our Time” and I was so moved by the depth of feeling and grandeur of the last spiritual, that tears were streaming down my face as I sat on stage. I also remember a few years later rehearsing Elliot Carter’s “Symphony of 3 orchestras.” I was so upset and disturbed by what I was playing that I was in floods of tears after one rehearsal and I was a nervous wreck for weeks.
Just because I love someone’s music or someone’s voice doesn’t necessarily mean that they will influence how I write or perform, although they may be inspirational. I adore Ella Fitzgerald, for example, but that’s not how my voice works. When I was at school I didn’t have the kind of voice that worked singing along to pop songs. That is…until Kate Bush came along

This blog is intended as extemporaneous reflections with no specific chronology or apparent logic.
Just whatever I feel like writing at the time.
From here you can link to my site www.philholland.net and to various places where my music can be heard.
If you want to write to me I’d love to hear from you. You can do that through my site.
Or just write to the address info@philholland.net


4th february 2010.

I play Celtic harp, violin, piano and I sing. I write, arrange, record and perform all my music.
I suppose for the necessity to define, I and others would call my music Celtic, but it has also a strong classical feel to it at times, and you can detect folk and minimalist influences.
I love purity of sound, I love music that flows and breathes and above all, I love music that has something to say. Music that is an empty expression of virtuosity leaves me just that…empty.
My first memories of music are singing. Singing while skipping rope, singing while playing hand clapping games, singing while walking my dog, singing while sailing in the Irish sea with my dad, singing while riding in the car on what seemed like interminable journeys (are we nearly there yet?) singing, singing, singing…
My first instruments were my mum’s pots and pans with which I would drive the pipe band mad as I followed them down the road and into the glen, banging away like mad. I’m sure at the time I thought I was contributing generously to their musical performance, but I am now heartily sorry.
My next attempt was at building my own guitar out of a shoe box and some elastic bands of varying widths and therefore “notes”.
I soon progressed to the recorder, then violin and piano.
And finally to the harp, the Celtic harp.
I fell in love with this magical instrument the very first time I touched a string and plucked it. There is something about the harp. It is above all a generous instrument. As you play, it gives you energy.


It also has a healing, calming quality about it.
I play a mixture of Scottish music (my father’s side of the family comes from Kircaldy), Irish music (my mother’s family is from Dublin) and I also write a lot of my own music.

These are the words to a song of mine, “The Far Away Child”, from my album, “Going Home”.



Oh, can you smile and can you laugh?
On this long journey.
Time has no meaning on the path
Of this long journey.
Just try to hear and try to see
So that you can journey.

Can you see the child in the distance?
So reach out your hand and show her you're there.
Can you hear the child in the distance?

The masts are clicking in the mist
Lost in the years.
The waves caress me, like being kissed
All through the years.
I try to taste the sharp salt sea,
So to keep those years.

Can you see the child in the distance?
So reach out your hand and show her you're there.
Can you hear the child in the distance?

Ice cracking in the frozen burn.
The only sound.
A sudden cry will make me turn,
To find this sound.
The voices always are in my head
There is no sound.

Can you see the child in the distance?
So reach out your hand and show her you're there.
Can you hear the child in the distance?

Upon my red rock I close my eyes,
To hear the wind's breath.
I feel inside me a small child cries.
It is the wind's breath.
Oh, listen hard and hear her voice,
I feel the wind's breath.

Can you see the child in the distance?
So reach out your hand and show her you're there.
Can you hear the child in the distance?

The children playing far away,
But I am here.
I hear their voices but cannot stay,
Yet I am here.
Forever gone, so find your home,
Perhaps it's here.

Can you see the child in the distance?
So reach out your hand and show her you're there.
Can you hear the child in the distance?