Paul Schiernecker

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  • Desert Island Discs.

    This week I was asked what my Desert Island Discs would be. Unfortunately, it wasn’t by Kirsty Young.
    For the longest time, I have thought about what my eight songs, one book and one luxury item would be if I were cast adrift on a desert island, but until now, nobody had asked me. The conversation was more of a back-and-forth and I can’t promise that if I am ever on the show that the songs would remain the same (I’ve just realised I missed Led Zeppelin out). For now though, these are my Desert Island Discs.

    1. Tubby The Tuba – Danny Kaye
    When I was a kid, we spent a fair amount of time with my mum’s parents, my grandparents as it were. Understandably, they didn’t have a lot of toys but they did have an old VHS of the 1975 animation, Tubby The Tuba. For those of you who aren’t up on your cartoons about brass instruments, it tells the tale of a tuba who goes on an adventure to find a song of his own. He’s a vicious and podgy little narcissist but aren’t we all at some stage.
    We watched Tubby every time we were there. I never really appreciated the brilliance of it at the time. I heard the opening spiel on 6Music recently and it brought all these memories of my grandparents flooding back. This track is the sound of the orchestra gearing up. It reminds me of the opening of Moonrise Kingdom too, which can only ever be a good thing.

    2. What’s The Frequency, Kenneth? – R.E.M
    To this day, my parents swear that we would always listen to Automatic For The People but this is the opening track of Monster and I know what I’m about, son. As kids, we holidayed for two weeks in the south of France every year. Mostly because my dad is scared of flying. There, we would stay in a caravan and try and make friends with French kids, by shouting at them in English.
    These holidays involved driving through the whole of France, listening to cassette tapes. I remember The Beautiful South, Joseph & The Technicoloured Dreamcoat soundtrack and R.E.M. As the opening track of the album, it always signaled a change in tone. I was too young to know that R.E.M. were fucking cool but it definitely set a tone for my tastes in music.
    Listening to them always invokes these mad stories of our time together as a young family. Accidentally getting an enema from sliding down the flumes over and over again, falling in love with any girl who dared make eye contact with me, my father in drag for some reason, reading Lord Of The Rings, mum flicking butter at our next door neighbours, stealing my brother’s chips until he noticed and cried, watching my other brother get split in two by a bungee trampoline. Ahh, the good old days.

    3. With A Little Help From My Friends – The Beatles
    This was the first song I learnt to play on the piano. I had lessons when I was very young, before I really appreciated what my parents were trying to do. I used to visit this old woman in a block of flats for lessons. Her name was Mrs Udaman. She was fascinating and terrifying. She used to give me cherryade and tell me stories about riding on the backs of elephants in Africa.
    That aside, she babied both my brother and I in our lessons. It seemed forever before I went from learning Catty, Ducky, Eggy (C, D, E) to an actual, recognisable tune. That tune was With A Little Help From My Friends. It was a real lesson in what music could do and how creating noise could make you feel. It’s obviously from one of the most important albums of all time but this song in particular has a deep message about friendship and love too.

    I can’t find the studio version on YouTube but look at them!

    4. I Know It’s Over – The Smiths
    As Nick Hornby says, via Rob in High Fidelity; “what came first, the music or the misery?”
    I believe Morrissey came first. There’s something about The Smiths and the time you come to that band that very heavily influences you. The first time I heard The Smiths and remember it impacting me was when my friend Sam used Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me as the soundtrack to a short film we shot at college. I can’t remember the details of the film but he was adamant we used the song. I was hooked. It felt like Steven Patrick Morrissey was reaching into my heart and soul and understanding just how misunderstood I was. I appreciate now that’s it silly. In the same way that my book of choice isn’t really for the me I am now, that’s why I continue to listen to The Smiths. I can imagine this being played in my funeral. What a better opening line for that day. It touches something in the loner and allows them to belong. What better way of indulging in your own masturbatory pursuits while adrift on a desert island than listening to this?

    5. Claude DeBussy – Clair De Lune
    I used to spend a lot of time with this girl. I don’t know what happened there but we used to lie in her bed and listen to piano moods. I was in my early twenties and I didn’t think I had any time for piano moods. It didn’t fit in with what I was feeling or who I thought I was. I don’t even know if this is one of the songs that we would listen to but there’s something about the vibe of it that has stuck with me. It also featured beautifully in Wes Anderson’s Darjeeling Limited. Why can’t I take one film with me onto the island? That’s the real question here because it would definitely be that. There’s something about the mood of this piece that I absolutely adore. I’ve spent hours with this piece of music playing on repeat as I try to fathom my way through something I’m writing. That’s why a bit of DeBussy makes the cut, it helps you to turn off from everything else and just zone out for a while. It’s intricately beautiful. It drives something up from within me that contemporary music can’t. Sometimes it’s nice to pretend you’re swanky with some piano moods.

    6. Boys In The Band – The Libertines
    Going from one extreme to the other, this song reminds me of the best part of my coming of age. I will never forget the number of times I have bounced around, clad in leather and denim, arms around someone I love, screaming every sloppy lyric in their ear. I will always love this band and I will always love this song.

    7. Kooks – David Bowie
    This track is from one of my absolute favourite albums. I have my parents to thank for that. I remember listening to it on vinyl when I was very young. I would run my finger along the contours of his face on the cover. The wonder of records was that you paid so much more attention to the artwork because it was so big. The album sounded completely different to anything I had ever heard before and this track is sublime. It has a touch of madness to it which I believe is linked to his feelings about his brother. I can relate.
    It’s like a nursery rhyme to me and was the start of my love for David and my love for vinyl. If anyone asks, I grew up with three parents; Trace, Si and Bowie.

    8. Road To Joy – Bright Eyes.
    So this is my last song. I’ve placed it last because it is the closer on one of my all-time favourite albums. The way this song drives and the bombastic ending with the trumpet wailing and the hoarse way Conor shouts the words over it all kill me every time. This was an album that my friend introduced me to. He’s one of those people who is always into cool stuff before anyone else seems to have had the chance to have heard it. He’s always a cut above. I remember going for long, roaming drives with this on as we smoked roll ups and talked about our dreams.

    A book?
    Do I still have to take a bible? If we are talking works of fiction, there are others I would much rather switch it out for. I know I get the complete works of Shakespeare as well. If anything, this will be a good opportunity for me to read them. I’ve never really committed to it. I hope I can find a way of relating them all to something else, in the way that I can only process Hamlet by thinking about The Lion King.
    My choice though, my favourite book of all time, is actually tattooed on the back of my leg. It’s a cliche I know but it’s Catcher In The Rye by Jerome David Salinger. Like The Smiths, it was a piece of culture that smacked me between the eyes at just the right time. I read it at least once a year, usually around Christmas time. I would be only too happy to do the same on a desert island. Sure, there are parts of Holden’s personality that I now find insufferable, but that’s only ever going to be because I am becoming more phoney as I grow up. I can still see what I saw in that book then and that’s what I hold now. It’s a work of absolute genius. It’s one of the most important works of the 20th century. I know he grew to despise the way people treated him because of it but J.D. Salinger shaped a lot of people and it would be my absolute pleasure to be adrift with his work.

    A luxury item?
    Can I have two? They go hand-in-hand, literally. A bucket and spade. Every day I could go down to the beach and create something. The tide could take it away and then I could just begin again. That would satisfy me greatly and the fact that I would be repeating the same process every day and looking for a different result is the first sign of madness. What a beautiful place to go insane.

  • 31.

    As I sit crying, with a glass of wine and a cup of coffee, some Netflix original twittering away in the background, I realise that today is a day for reflection. I just picked out the photo album we recovered from my grandparents’ mass of books when clearing out after my grandma passed away. It has a host of photos of my earliest days, photos I didn’t get to know of until I was well into my twenties. Looking at that little squidgy face and imagining that it became me is a strange sensation.
    I picked out one picture in particular, a beautifully framed shot of my grandfather holding me. We look at each other in a mixture of shock and awe. It was one of two occasions I would ever see him cry, the second being when Sinatra snuffed it.
    On the reverse is the name of the subject: Paul, and the age of the subject: 23 hours. Beneath it is a note in my grandma’s handwriting, suggesting the comment I would make if I wasn’t busy soiling my nappy with Marmite and trying to work out how to crawl back into a womb sometime soon:
    “Grandpa, will you tell me about life assurance when I get bigger?”

    There’s something so incredibly her about the comment that I began to cry. It’s like a message from her, from beyond this mortal realm. I don’t believe in an afterlife or ghosts. I do believe in words and I do believe in memories. I’m going to spend much of today alone, thinking about them and thinking about you, what a jolly thing to do.

  • Social Media-free January.

    It’s been an interesting month. I decided to delete the Facebook, Twitter and Instagram apps from my phone and log myself out of all three on my laptop. I have a strange and strained relationship with social media. I spend an awful lot of time on it and I always wonder why.

    A day after I deleted the app, I checked my battery usage on my phone (Settings> Battery> Battery Usage> Clock). I had spent the vast majority of my time (42%, 8.2 hours) on Deleted Apps in the last week. That’s an entire working day I had spent/wasted on social media. I had absolutely nothing to show for that time. I’m not much good at even the most basic levels of maths but we will call that 32 hours in a month. That’s more than a day. With sleepy times added in, that’s two full days (awake) in a month that I’m scrolling. That’s not a good balance to have.
    They see me scrollin’, they hatin’.

    This month I edited two books. Two whole books that had been sat waiting for me to do something with, for over a year each. I have read five books and watched every episode of TaskMaster (which I thoroughly recommend). I have been spending a lot more real time with the people who matter to me and I have been experimenting with veganism. It’s been a great month and a really positive way to kick start the new year.

    I’ve also noticed that I don’t take anywhere near as many photos. I always thought that I enjoyed taking photos for the sake of the photos but maybe it was to try and impress everyone else.

    I’m going to return to social media, of course I will. My public misses me. I think the important thing is to try and keep in mind what it is there for and which of us is in charge.

  • The one where I accidentally went to Spin.

    I’m very much on a “new year, new me” hype. As part of this strange near wanderlust with life, my joie de vivre (yes, I had to look up the spelling), I have discovered the gym at which I have been a member for over a year, offers free classes. Realising that I had been missing out on a fantastic opportunity to get something for nothing, I signed up for a Pilates class.

    I woke up this morning to discover I had booked the class for yesterday and am a fucking idiot. Seeing how I was already awake, I decided to go to the gym and join whatever class was going down. The reason I didn’t fancy my usual workout is that Sunday was leg day and it still hurts when I cross my legs like I’m in Basic Instinct.
    There would be no alarm and no Pilates,
    No alarm and no Pilates,
    No alarm and no Pilates, please.

    There are two “zones” of the gym in which I have never stepped. One is the closed off area for classes, the other is the “ladies only” zone. I went to a ladies night on a Philippines beach and ended up shouting at backpackers and vomiting Mai Tai. I assume the same would come of entering the ladies zone in the gym. I wouldn’t get in without a Some Like It Hot makeover.
    I stepped into the class and waited for someone to stop me. Classes are available to book online. You have to snap them up real quick because everyone is trying to be a better version of themselves in 2018. If there were too many people in the room I would back out and do some other gym stuff. I sat on an exercise bike at the back and checked the class on my phone. It was called Indoor Cycling. I quickly booked myself in after finding there were only six of us taking the class. How difficult could Indoor Cycling be anyway? I’ve done Outdoor Cycling.

    It turns out that Indoor Cycling is fucking Spin. Spin is just a brand name. I’m comfort eating a pack of Aldi’s Cookies ‘n’ Cream right now to get over it. They’re fucking Oreos. Oreos are just a brand name. The difference is that I like Oreos. Oreos are kind to me. Spin was not.
    Five minutes in, I discovered that I wanted to vomit. Then the instructor said we weren’t done with the warm up and I fainted in a way that would make an actress in an infomercial blush.

    I think the key lesson is that women are fucking tough. There was one other guy in the class. He was wheezing too. The women were hardcore as fuck. I was struggling to keep pace with the changes and so busy trying not to vomit that I couldn’t reach to turn up the resistance or to give it 100%. I don’t give anything 100%. I’m certainly not going to make that change for Spin.

    As we stretched out and warmed down and I realised that I had survived the worst ordeal of my life since shitting myself on the Inca trail, I wondered why anyone would ever put themselves through such a traumatic ordeal. I went through all the stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance through that forty-five minute class. On the way home, I wondered if I was dead. Now, as I sit typing and stinking up the joint, I want to go again. Fuck you Spin.

  • New Year’s Day, 2018.

    Don’t listen to anyone who wants to put you down for your “new year, new me” rhetoric. I think the new year is an amazing opportunity to start afresh and whatever way that chooses to present itself is important.

    I’m taking January 2018 as an opportunity to regroup and reassess. I have a number of projects that I want to start up this year and I’ll be taking this time to work out what I am going to focus on and when. As part of this I am removing myself from social media and taking part in Veganuary. The good news is that you won’t see me going on about being vegan because I won’t be on Twitter. Hooray for you!

    Take 2018 as a new chance to do more of what you enjoy with the people that you love. It’s key.

    …and here’s to hoping that it doesn’t follow in the wake of 2017 as an international shitshow.

  • Top 10 moments of 2017.

    Top 10 moments of 2017.

    This year has been really interesting. With the absolute shambles that is 2017 drawing to a close, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate my personal achievements and enjoyments of the year. I am excited to be heading into 2018 and for everything that it may involve.
    I’ve realised that releasing an album and another book didn’t even make the cut.

    10. Being kinder to myself.
    I have spent the vast majority of my life struggling with mental health issues in varying degrees. There is no doubt that I have had down periods this year but my understanding of my own mind and what I can best do to get through those spells has improved dramatically this year. I would hope that I have helped others through their own issues and spread awareness at the same time. The fact remains. I am always here for mental health chat.

    9. Joining a gym
    I never saw myself as a gym person. I still don’t. I tend to get there early morning when the real gym people are there. I joined in January like I imagine 90% of people do, and unlike a lot of others, I have stuck with it. Not to gym-shame anyone else of course. It’s much easier to Netflix and chill with a baked camembert.

    8. Krakow.
    In November/December, we went to Krakow as part of a srprs.me trip. We drunk a lot, walked a lot and I ate my weight in pirogi. Would recommend.

    7. Glastonbury.
    In June, Clarissa, Adam and I volunteered to work at Glastonbury on behalf of Water Aid. It was an amazing weekend and we were part of an incredible team. Sure I had to clean toilets but I also got to see Royal Blood, Radiohead and Jeremy Corbyn.

    6. Watching my brother get married.
    In my head my brothers are 8 and 5 so it was very strange for me to get my head around the idea of Robert getting married, and being 28 years old. I am forever grateful that we got to be a part of their big day.

    5. Delectably Dead.
    While the reviews might have been mixed (at best), the experience of co-writing a dinner show with one of my best friends and being a part of the amazing cast is one of my highlights of the year. I will never forget the incredible feeling of hearing someone else recite words you have written.

    4. Running a marathon.
    I’m currently recovering from a knee injury so it’s hard to imagine this even happened but in April I ran the London Marathon, finishing in 4hrs 16mins. I would love the opportunity to do it again but it depends what happens to my bones between now and then.

    3. Turning 30.
    I had an incredible birthday with everyone I care about. I managed to tick off a number of my bucket list items at the last moment, including riding a horse.

    2. Philippines.
    In May we spent two weeks backpacking around the islands of PH. It reaffirmed my opinion that I find no greater joy than hoofing around somewhere different with a pack on my back. I never took the opportunity to have a gap year so I’ll take these breaks wherever I can get them.

    1. Becoming an uncle.
    Please allow me a moment to get sentimental. In February, my brother and his now wife celebrated the arrival of Kadie-Lei, my niece. Despite my insistence that I could deliver her, they had a doctor do it, but I was on the scene soon after. I cried the first time I held her. I still want to cry every time I hold her. Seeing my brother with Kadie, Harry and Kelly makes me realise just how incredible family is and what it can be. I’m so happy for him and proud of the man he has become.

    I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has made 2017 what it was. On a grander scale it has been trash, but for me, it has been awesome.

  • Back on the wireless

    Last week I was lucky enough to appear on Saint FM with Sarah Banham. We had a lovely chat, most of which we were able to air. I got lost on the way to the studio, which Sarah wasn’t going to let me forget. It’s also worth remembering that the last time I was on the radio, the hosts had to make a public apology after I made a comment about urinating on a lover.

  • Start the presses.

    I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has supported me and my new book in the last week. It means an awful lot to me. I am pleased to announce that there were over a hundred downloads of I’ve Got Sol, as well as a number of physical purchases. I think a lot of those may have been my dad.

    It takes an awful lot to put a book out, especially when you have the control around every aspect of it. I would like to thank Adam for the cover design, and each of you who liked and shared the many posts I have put up this week. I get that it seems like a lot of bother but it really made a huge difference to the impact that me and a little book I put together three years ago could have. I love you all.

  • I’ve Got Sol

    I am pleased to announce that my fifth book, I’ve Got Sol, is available now.


    Detailing the fine adventures I had whilst trekking the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, it’s a fun forest romp for the whole family, featuring themes of love, overcoming obstacles and poop.

    Read an excerpt from the first chapter below:

    Annie looked at me, her eyes already shrink-wrapped in tears by whoever had offered kind words into her tiny, elf-like ear, poking through her grown-out ginger hair. It had returned to its natural colour after years of peroxide abuse. As a result she looked like a completely different girl. I was drunk, but didn’t feel as far gone as she looked; a scale I used to justify my own binging.
    We were in Agenda, one of the far-too-many trendy city-boy bars populating the golden mile of London. It was the kind of place where boys with smarmed over undercuts threw Ralph Lauren jumpers over their shoulders, thinking it was an acceptable look and not the uniform of the basic dick. I did not feel at home in Agenda, in my flapping flannel shirt, washed-out skinny jeans and cracked Converse. Give me personality and attitude, give me sticky carpets and the roar of the jukebox – not all those clean surfaces for coke, remixes of songs that shouldn’t ever be touched and overpriced cocktails.
    ‘I wish I could come with you’ I said, biting my lip in the hope it would prevent tears from accumulating.
    ‘You can come and visit me anytime, just book a flight and I’ll come and meet you.’ She seemed so much stronger than me, so much better too. She was really doing it. She was getting out.
    It was no good. It was too much. I was going to cry.

    Shortly after Annie and I returned from the Sahara she told me she planned to go travelling for a year. As a friend I supported her but reserved strong doubts it would come to anything. I know a league of people who said they would go travelling and see the world, shopping in the 9–5 in order to experience something. There were so many vague self-made promises and world maps littered with push pins hanging on the walls of rented bedrooms. I gave Annie my full support because I didn’t fully believe she would go through with it. I was naïve.
    When we returned from our desert adventure I already had my next step booked. The same group who had organised the Sahara trek had announced the following year’s trek, traversing the Inca Trail in Peru to the ancient lost city, Machu Picchu. I booked my place. Annie didn’t have anything to look forward to. When I signed up, she told me she would love to go but had her own plans and needed to see them through. She promised me she would see South America, but that it came later, after her own plans. Annie’s wanderlust was admirable. I should have known I could only anchor her for so long before she made that next leap, like Sam Beckett.

    As the months leading up to my Peru adventure shortened, her plans snowballed. Annie saved up; she started cutting nights out with friends from her regular agenda. She ordered travel guides that she read and highlighted during our lunch hours together. One payday she told me she had booked the first in her series of flights. A stone dropped into the well of my stomach. The ripples caught me. It was very real. She was going and without her, I wasn’t sure what I would do.
    People we worked with asked if something was going on behind the scenes, a clichéd will-they-won’t-they romance. Annie and I were never Ross Gellar and Rachel Green. We’re not Harry and Sally. The truth is I was at a stage in my life when I was struggling with a number of things and she popped up. I’m a cynic at heart. I don’t believe in ghosts or Gods or fate, I struggle to understand exactly what, if anything, placed me on this planet. There was something about Annie and the way she came into my life I am thankful for. If a force of some kind brought her about then I owe it a humble respect. She’s the little sister to a boy only ever stuck with brothers.
    There were no romantic intentions between the pair of us. Annie knows too much to ever consider me a worthy adversary. She always had that gun to my head.

    Annie eventually handed in her notice, having kept quiet for so long about her plans. She sent out an invite to a leaving do. Far too many people asked what I was going to do without her. I’m still not entirely sure.

    ‘You can come and visit me anytime, just book a flight and I’ll come and meet you’ she said. Tears collected at the corners of my eyes. I failed to blink them away. One rolled down my cheek.
    ‘I’m really going to fucking miss you’ I said and I grabbed her in a hug. I was drunk I realised as the Woo Woo-infused tears disappeared into her hair. ‘I’m jealous of you and I’m going to miss you but I’ll come and see you, I’ll come and see you.’
    I stayed clung to her until I could compose myself and then I sat back. Annie dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. I ground my teeth.
    ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without you’ I said, while a voice in my head informed me I had said far too much and should hone it in a little. My damn sense of consciousness and self-awareness stepping in, knowing I had crossed a line.
    ‘I know, but I’ll be back’ she said. We hugged again.

    Annie had booked her flight to Thailand before Bali and Indonesia. She planned to see how things went from there.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said one of the women who worked on Annie’s team, ‘she’ll be back before you know it.’
    ‘That’s the problem,’ I said. ‘I don’t think she’ll come back at all.

  • Carousel EP – a review.

    From the opening strains of Show, it is clear that Southend-on-Sea’s very own Carousel have a goal in mind, and that’s to lift you up. There is nothing to stop the smiles spreading as their sublime vocal melodies explode and their joyous mix of folk and blues push on like clockwork. Their take on Americana is infectious.
    Carousel are Thomas Eatherton, Chris Hobart, Sarah Holburn and Toby Shaer

    It takes a lot to stand out in this age of music being available everywhere and nobody giving a shit about artists who are actually doing something, playing instruments, trying hard. It’s not particularly “in vogue” to be in a band. There are plenty of bands doing it, especially locally, so when you hear something that actually makes you feel feelings, makes you feel like you might be an actual human being, why not go for it.

    You may be familiar with Dead Horse, which has been doing the rounds on Facebook ahead of the EP launch. It sounds like a road trip soundtrack song. It drives itself and you should too. Again, the vocal melodies rise up during the chorus which features painfully relatable lyrics.


    Porcelain, the middle child of the Carousel EP family, is the slow, considered ballad  in the midst of the thriving city soundtrack. Like the title’s subject matter, it’s beautiful and fragile. Sarah takes the lead on vocals to devastating effect. I’m not crying, there’s just something in my eye. It’s followed up by Throw Me To The Wolves, the polar opposite. Packed with distorted guitar and a layer of scuzz to the vocals, it’s a stand out track for me. It’s all well and good to be able to craft something melodic and sublime, but to show you can still have an edge is an exciting prospect. It’s Carousel Go Electric.

    Comfortable Skin closes the EP like it is wishing you goodnight, Thomas’s lyrics about staying true to oneself matched in tone with backing melodies to make your hair stand on end.
    If you’re looking for range and you’re looking for treatment, then you’ll want to get in with Carousel.

    Carousel EP is out on 22/09/2017.
    You can find out more here.

Paul Schiernecker

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