Page 21 of What Would Dolly Do?

T he next few hours were intense and exhilarating as I discovered I could indeed write a song.

Who knew!? Working alongside Tom and Fergus, who had clearly had many sessions like this together before, I quickly learned there wasn’t a right or wrong way to create a new piece of music, it really was a case of whatever worked for you.

‘It doesn’t matter what comes first, a lick or a hook, a lyric or just an idea for something the song needs to be about, it can be any of those things, a combination of all of ‘em or something else entirely. All that matters is that you find a spark and then try and fan the flames to get the fire burning.’ Fergus spoke from experience and explained how he and Tom had sometimes worked on songs from either side of the Atlantic when Tom was over in Nashville and he was here in Scotland.

‘A bit like Elton John and Bernie Taupin but with better technology,’ Ferg joked.

‘Yeah … although we’ve not managed to sell quite as many as Elton, especially lately,’ Tom admitted ruefully.

‘Hey man, what’s with the negativity? There’s still time to get back up those charts,’ Ferg insisted with a look towards Tom that made me think he wasn’t used to hearing him being so down on himself.

I decided to make a concerted effort to not bring any more negativity into the room and listened to all the advice and ideas the guys offered and did my very best to throw myself into the process.

When else would I ever have the chance to write a song with a famous musician and a producer of Fergus’s obvious calibre?

I was determined not to waste the opportunity.

I eased myself in by watching how Tom liked to strum his guitar looking for catchy hooks to build up from. Sometimes he switched over to piano and experimented with snatches of melody while he sang a load of nonsense over the top.

For me, the words of a song can really sell it.

I suppose that’s why I like country music so much.

So many of the great country songs have totally nailed it with a clever line here and there, summing up so perfectly something I have experienced myself.

You know they say a good country song can just be ‘three chords and the truth’.

It can also be powerful and poignant but some of my favourite country songs use humour too.

Dolly is the queen of all that, of course.

I wasn’t expecting to be in Dolly’s league but I quickly realised I wanted to try to do what she does, find a way to capture a sensation, an idea or a moment in a lyric and build a song from there.

I let my thoughts wander, let all the events in my life filter through my brain, tried to switch off from the immediate and see what emotions and memories floated to the surface as Tom played and replayed a melody line on the piano.

All at once words began to come into my mind, words that seemed to fit the refrain really well.

I sang them in my head at first but the expression on my face must have given me away as all of a sudden Fergus said, ‘C’mon Rebecca, don’t hold it in, let us all hear it.

’ He must have been able to tell I had something brewing.

‘Mean to me … Mean to me … don’t ever be mean to me … those bad boys think it’s the way to be, but they don’t know what you mean to me …’

Tom nodded enthusiastically. ‘Again … sing that again.’ So I did and we were away – all throwing ideas back and forth and building a song based on a situation as old as time.

‘Mean to Me’ had a steady tempo and room for some great piano twiddles between the verse and the chorus.

Tom and I worked together to create a couple of verses.

We threw in references to how boys started showing an interest by pulling your pigtails but could end up pulling your best mate.

It was just the right side of bluesy and the story reflected a story I knew so often left women disappointed and hurt.

It felt like a great start – for once I wasn’t bottling my emotions up but actually using bad experiences from my past and using them to feel good about myself.

‘I like the fact you’re giving the new guy a warning too, saying you’ve been messed around before but you won’t stand for it again.

’ Fergus spoke as he came out of the control room after we’d recorded a take but then I felt my cheeks flush red as he looked first at me then at Tom.

Oh Lord, is that what he thought I was doing? Writing a song to make a point to Tom?

But Tom was laughing, ‘It’s a good strong message. Lots a fellas need to hear it and far more women wanna give it, I reckon.’

If I was honest, I supposed the reason I was in my mid-thirties and still single was because I’d made my share of terrible choices with men.

I’d fallen for far too many ‘bad boys’ in my youth and that never ends well.

Then I’d gone to the other end of the spectrum with Robbie and just sort of settled for what was readily available and convenient – we both had.

Surely there was something in the middle – passion that didn’t come with a health warning attached – I didn’t want to explain all that in detail to Tom and Fergus right now, but maybe I had in a way, by writing the song.

We played around with a few more ideas after that. I sang a line about whisky chasers and being an ‘old-fashioned’ girl while Tom was playing some licks on an electric guitar. It turned into a really upbeat, jokey tune about a very modern woman who just loved old-fashioned whisky cocktails.

Laura suddenly appeared with a tray of coffee and biscuits, which we all fell on with delight, but there was no desire from any of us to stop what we were doing. The sun was still bright outside but we must have already been working for several hours. I didn’t want the day to end.

A coffee later, we got back to throwing ideas around.

There were a few false starts but Ferg was keeping track of lines we’d thrown away or snatches of melody that we liked but then didn’t use.

‘Nothing ever goes to waste in songwriting,’ he said.

‘You can always circle back and use it again some other time.’

A bit like life, I thought.

The shadows across the wooden floor were starting to get longer when Tom began singing softly about being lost and alone.

Quietly, Ferg and I stopped our own experiments and listened.

It was haunting and I kept very quiet and still as he stopped and restarted several times, trying to find his way through the song.

He went through the opening a few times, painting a picture of someone struggling to find their way.

As he reached what would be the chorus he came out with a bittersweet line about needing the moonlight to guide him home.

I thought the song was beautiful, both the melody and the words were gorgeous, but it wasn’t until he looked up at me as he sang the moonlight line again that I registered any particular meaning that connected it to me.

Was he singing this for me? About me? Before I got any daft notions, I told myself it was because my name was Mooney.

After all, I’d had enough years of schoolyard jokes about my name, so it was nice that it was finally being used more poetically.

Although I couldn’t stop myself longing for more.

Was he saying that I was helping him through something, that I was the one he was turning to when he felt lost and alone?

I didn’t know what to do but Fergus came to my rescue by way of his disembodied voice from the control room. ‘Can you give us some harmonies on this, Rebecca?’

I nodded in response and concentrated on finding the best places to add a harmony or an echo call.

The song filled the space with longing and emotion and as the sun began to disappear and the light in the room began to change from gold to blue Tom and I sang with each other about love, loneliness and moonlight.

We all descended the stairs a little later to find the kitchen twinkling in lamplight and a huge pot of chilli bubbling on the stove.

Fergus and Tom chattered excitedly about the songwriting session to Laura but I felt I was in some sort of daze.

Turns out spilling your creative guts takes it out of you.

Tom got some cold bottled beers from the fridge as Ferg bounded back upstairs to kiss the kids goodnight and then we all sat around the table to tuck in.

I was ravenous and the chilli was just what I needed but Laura picked up on how quiet I was.

While the boys were eating and chatting away she asked me if everything was okay and I tried to reassure her I was just fine.

In truth I was feeling both fabulous and completely disorientated in a succession of confusing waves.

There wasn’t an easy way to explain all that to myself, let alone to someone I didn’t know too well.

Laura had been listening to what the boys had been saying about ‘Mean to Me,’ the song that had sprung from the line I had sung. She cleverly honed in on what had been my inspiration, asking me more about it.

‘Maybe it’s just me,’ I told her, ‘but I’ve had more than my fair share of guys being mean to me. If they made gaslighting an Olympic sport I’d be able to pick the gold medal winners every time.’

She laughed at that and told me I had a way of looking at the world that lent itself brilliantly to creative songwriting. ‘No wonder Ferg and Tom have kept your nose to the grindstone all afternoon,’ she said, ‘I can’t wait to hear what you’ve all been working on.’