Clinton Hoy

I don’t know if you saw this report released last year saying:

It turns out that our musical tastes begin to get locked in stone when we hit 24, but by age 31 we’re in the middle of a musical paralysis that we can’t get out of. Whatever was popular during our teenage years, particularly between the ages of 11 and 14, then that’s what we’re going to listen to from that point on. As a matter of fact, there’s some evidence that our musical tastes are shaped by the very first music we hear, even though we’re very open to just about any type of music until we reach age 11.

Does this resonate with you? 

For me those would be the years 1989-1993 and, with perhaps a few more years in the 90s, that sounds pretty solid as far as my loyal listening - I’m still prone to throwing on some early Pearl Jam or Green Day - 1994 especially is an amazing year for albums - just check out the Wikipedia list!

I turned 24 in 2002, just after I’d started work at Festival Music Publishing where it was pretty much my job (well not MY job, I was a number cruncher in royalties) to find new music. 

For the uninitiated, a publisher works with songwriters as opposed to recording artists. Sometimes these are one and the same, though we had plenty of non-performing writers on our books and they wrote some very fine songs.

In those days, demo CDs would arrive by the bucketload. Sadly, they also went in the bin by the bucketload as we weren’t supposed to listen to unsolicited ones. Who knows what gems slipped through?

One of our gambles was on an act called “The Androids”, if you remember them? They had a pretty solid set of commercial rock songs and one throw away b-side called “Do It With Madonna”. After some pressure, the band eventually relented and allowed our partner record company (Festival Mushroom) to release it and it went gangbusters - even charted in the UK and Europe if I recall - thing was, it sounded nothing like the rest of their album, and as such there was little interest in a follow up and everything fizzled.

I felt so bad seeing the promotional posters in the office torn down once chart numbers were revealed, the album had missed expectations by a long way. They were barely spoken of again. It can be a brutal business.

One artist I procured a demo from and brought to the bosses was a little known act that I’d caught on an acoustic night in Glebe. My boss at the time had a listen and decided he didn’t think they had the right stuff. That band was Thirsty Merc.

Anyway… 

By 31 I was out of the industry and teaching music (and life) in a primary school in the west of NSW. My music discovery mode wasn’t in full swing but I really didn’t want to play songs from the ABC Kids’ book series so I asked my Year 6 class for suggestions. I found a lot of new (questionable) music via that method!

It was that year, after dabbling with the idea for a while, that I started to have a real go at being a singer-songwriter. I worked on my first EP (aside from the first first one, of which we do not speak) and discovered a love of songwriting that I still haven’t left behind.

I compiled my ideas for new songs for album #3 the other night, and found that I had 19 to work on - hopefully something will be out this year. So there’ll be plenty of new music by me in the world.

It makes me so grateful that you didn’t stop listening to new music at 24*, because that’s my entire approach! I believe that some of the best songs we’ll ever hear are still to be written, so do me a favour and go check out a local songwriter sometime soon. You’ll be richer^ for it

Clint

I’ve always believed in education. My day job is in education and I’ve spent a fair chunk of my life as a student (of academic institutions and life I suppose).

For my HECS investment I have a degree (Arts majoring in Communication Studies - effectively journalism and sound production), a graduate diploma (in Primary Education), a half-finished Secondary Music degree + a Cert IV in Training/Assessment and some Berklee College Music courses.

I am appreciative and grateful for my good fortune in my life.

The main thing it has taught me though is, to really learn, and to really know, nothing beats doing.

My first professional lesson in good and evil came via my first job, in copyright and royalties, at Festival Music Publishing (same building as Festival Mushroom Records but a different company, so no, Kylie and I are not besties. Yet.)

I went to work in the industry wide eyed and naive, thinking I’d “made it” and that I’d be rubbing shoulders with all the stars. That didn’t happen, and in the end it was the, er, non-stars who were my saviours - the musicians who just wanted to make the best music they could.

One story of loyalty and betrayal involved a competing company signing an artist, locking their rights away for multiple albums, recording with them and then refusing to release the record. It turned out they’d only signed the artist to stop them from competing with another on their roster.

Or the artist who was giddy over having $100,000 to spend on a video clip - only to realise later that the money they were spending had to be paid back from their own royalties before they saw a cent, $2 per CD sold doesn’t go a long way, so imagine what $0.004 per stream does these days!

Of my solo material, my most streamed song has ~450 all time streams - some would caution me against sharing such an unflattering statistic. Spotify doesn’t even pay artists who have less than 1000 per song per year anymore. 

To me though, this is amazing. 450 times someone has chosen to listen to something I made over almost literally every other song in the world. How can I not love that?

Talking to some local music industry friends this week about learning how to get along in the business had me reflecting on my education a lot, it sounded like offhand advice, but when I said “the best way is to learn by doing” I meant it.

It’s now 21 years since I first sat at a desk in the famed Festival Music building, and still everyday music teaches me something, and I’m still trying to figure it out.

So I guess I’m saying, if you’re someone who needs to hear it, accept that there is good and evil in everything. Fairness, cheating, loyalty, betrayal, conflict everywhere. But if you have something you want to create, there will be someone in the world who wants to hear it or see it. And isn’t that a beautiful thing?

PS - if you do wanna give me a few more streams, my songs are here

https://open.spotify.com/album/2iKmox2bTK8pOLUcewjcns

Oh and you knew I had a podcast right? Follow the making of my third album here

https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/the-soundtrack-of-our-lives/id1673295190

Thanks for listening (and reading)!

Clint

I've always been a stickler for the rules. From being 10 and chiding my Mum for daring to take steps on a travelator against its strict "no walking allowed" decree to meticulously adhering to the harmony and melody guidelines in my songwriting, I've found solace in the comforting embrace of established norms. Yet, beneath this veneer of conformity, a restless rebel has always lurked, yearning for liberation from the shackles of convention.

You may find yourself wondering: how does a 45-year-old, blond(ish), blue-eyed, male acoustic guitarist with a government job defy expectations and embrace the mantle of rebellion? One possibility is my (over stubborn?) refusal to tread the worn path of playing other people's songs. While it may seem a trivial transgression, it's a defiance born of a deep-seated conviction. Despite the well-meaning advice urging me to sprinkle my performances with familiar covers, I've come to realise a profound truth: my creative essence thrives when I explore my own musical compositions.

Perhaps it's not the conventional brand of rebellion, yet it's a rebellion nonetheless— against the status quo, against the pressures of conformity. For in this steadfast commitment to authenticity, I have realised a newfound freedom—a freedom that transcends the confines of social media metrics and superficial validation.

As I cast off the suffocating cloak of the attention economy, I embark on a journey of self-discovery and artistic honesty. I relinquish the relentless pursuit of likes and hearts, choosing instead to forge genuine connections through the raw, unfiltered expression of my music.

So, while my Facebook page may languish in neglect and TikTok remains a distant, frankly confusing realm, know this: it's a deliberate choice—a conscious rebellion against the hollow allure of instant gratification. I refuse to deceive myself or my audience with bitesized, insincere “content” designed to captivate fleeting attention spans. Instead, I throw myself wholeheartedly to the arduous task of crafting my third record—an odyssey fraught with doubt and uncertainty, yet illuminated by the flickering flame of creative passion.

For in the end, it's not about pandering to the masses or chasing ephemeral fame. It's about creating something transcendent—something that resonates with the depths of the human spirit. And when my third record finally emerges from the crucible of creation, I hope it will stand as a testament to the indomitable spirit of rebellion—the spirit that dares to defy, to innovate, and to forge a path where none existed before.

And if not, at least I had fun!

Thanks for listening,

Clint

Some people love jigsaws, some people crosswords, some love code breaking and others like those “spot the difference” things that I’ve, honestly, always been terrible at.

For me, the puzzle I love solving is putting a song together, finding a melody and lyric that match perfectly and a harmony that supports the whole idea. The difference here, I suppose, is that with all those other kinds of puzzles you can complete it, step back, and know it’s done.

Sure, maybe one day, you’d go back to the jigsaw, break it apart and do it again, but if it were truly akin to the puzzle of songwriting, it’d be more like coming back to it because there  was a piece missing… or you found one under the lounge that didn’t quite match… or you got a piece of cardboard and made one yourself to fit.

Songwriting is, for me at least, an exercise in imperfection - being okay with that, learning, trying again and maybe getting it “more” right next time.

I was reflecting on this as I got lost down another rabbit hole recently, one called “modal interchange”. Don’t worry, I’m not going to give a lecture on the benefits of music theory (although ask yourself how you’d feel if your Uber driver proudly proclaimed “I never learned to drive, I just do what feels right”) but suffice to say it’s rare these days that I’ll settle for a “regular” chord progression… possibly to my detriment.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of songwriting as a puzzle is its inherent unpredictability. Much like a cryptic crossword or a riddle with no clear answer, the process of songwriting is filled with twists and turns, unexpected detours, and moments of inspiration. It's a journey into the unknown, where every chord change and lyrical shift holds the potential to transform the entire composition.

I’ll never forget the look on the face of my good friend Dallas Keenes when I brought a song chart into rehearsals for our then new band One Proud Monkey. I had written up 7 chords when Dallas made a comment along the lines of, “that’s enough chords for this song” when I informed him that I’d only just completed the verse. The song in question, “Jimmy Superfly”, ended up with around 23 chords give or take (ask me about inversions and chord extensions anyday).

“Pieces of Different Puzzles” is another such track, and there’s a chord at the end of the chorus - when I stumbled on that one… I just can’t convey the satisfaction that brought me. After all, songwriting offers a unique opportunity to embrace paradox and contradiction. In the world of music, dissonance and harmony coexist in a delicate balance, much like the pieces of a puzzle that may not fit together at first glance but ultimately form a cohesive whole. It's through this interplay of opposites that the true beauty of a song emerges – in the tension between light and shadow, joy and sorrow, love and loss.

Anyway… in the reflection I started to wonder if I ever want to write the perfect song - complete the puzzle if you will - because then I’d have to stop. And doing this brings me so much happiness, I just don’t think I can.

Thanks for being part of this.

Clint 

I was so excited at the end of January, you may have heard me talk about it on the podcast doco thing a few weeks back, when I had 8 song ideas in 27 minutes.

Well these haven’t turned into songs like I hoped, so I did some reflecting.

When I was writing “The Soundtrack of Our Lives”, I was concentrating on the importance of a cohesive narrative and a structured approach to songwriting. Drawing inspiration from one of my favourite albums, "Life in Slow Motion" by David Gray, I sought to recreate that magic by infusing my music with a tighter structure and a compelling storyline.

Making the album was so much fun and I was so pleased with the results I figured I’d do it the same way for album #3, however…

In the solitude of my studio, I found myself stuck, relying on the same old routine of writing chords, bashing pre-written lyrics into place, and drawing from familiar influences. It was comfortable, yes, but it lacked the spark of inspiration I craved.

Then, an epiphany, I needed to search for music that I like but have listened very little to. My Last.FM listening stats (compiled since 2006!) came in handy here, I scanned my most played artists for something that wasn’t a bloke with a guitar writing alt country / acoustic / adult contemporary songs.

Shockingly, the first female on that list was at #129 (Thelma Plum) and after that #150 (Angie McMahon). If I was going to free my creative brain from this malaise, I was going to need a different input, and this is where it started. I was brainstorming female songwriters with a penchant for poignant lyrics and Joni Mitchell came to mind - and while she’s not on Spotify, there’s a “Joni Mitchell Radio” which pointed me towards Tori Amos - I was off and running (I eventually conquered my laziness and got some Joni from YouTube).

The moment when chaos truly disrupted my orderly world came during this week-long immersion in the music of Amos and then Regina Spektor, great songwriters who have such a different approach to mine, combined with a deep dive detour into advanced theories of harmony via a Jazz channel on Instagram that, kind of, broke my brain. It shook things up so much that ideas, not necessarily great, but creative, poured out.

As I dove deeper into this world, something incredible happened. The chaos of my creative approach began to yield results. I discovered a freedom in my music, unshackled from the constraints of my trusty old ways. Each session in the studio has brought new discoveries, new ideas, and new directions to explore.

I feel myself growing as a songwriter. Embracing the joy of spontaneity, letting go and allowing the music to take me where it pleases. Chaos, it seems, has been the much needed catalyst for something truly rewarding—a positive outcome born from disruption and disorder.

Oh, and I finished 4 new songs this week. And this time, I actually like them.

Would you watch this? Or is it a little too cliche... maybe I got carried away, it's all part of the adventure... read on... oh, and who should play me?

"The Silence Between The Chords"

Stuck in a small town and battling self-doubt, a 46-year-old aspiring songwriter wrestles with the question: is pursuing a creative dream in the face of doubt and practicality ultimately selfish, or the bravest act of self-acceptance?

Act 1: The Dream and the Nightmare

Clinton, a talented but self-doubting songwriter, spends his days toiling away teaching Art and Music in a small town, his dreams of music fame feeling increasingly distant. Despite his passion for writing original music, he struggles with feelings of inadequacy, haunted by the constant requests for 30 year old cover songs. His inner conflict reaches a breaking point when he has the opportunity to perform at a local open mic night. The applause he receives fuels his hope, but it's quickly overshadowed by all-too-familiar doubts.

Act 2: The Conflict Unfolds

As Clinton continues to grapple with his conflicting desires, he faces external challenges that further complicate his journey. Financial constraints, geographic isolation, and societal expectations weigh heavily on him. He begins to question whether pursuing his musical aspirations is selfish or if it's a valid pursuit of happiness. Sleepless nights dominate the summer, under the weight of his internal struggle, his family is supportive and encouraging, they even know the words to his songs - but he wonders, is this a fool’s errand?

Act 3: The Resolution

Despite the challenges, Clinton finds solace in the transformative power of music. He reconnects with the passion that initially ignited his desire to write songs and realises that his fear of failure was what was holding him back. With newfound determination, he takes a leap of faith and decides to pursue his dream wholeheartedly. Embracing his age and life experience, he sees them as assets rather than obstacles.

With his family’s unwavering support and encouragement, Clinton embarks on a journey that takes him far beyond the confines of his small town. Armed with his guitar and a suitcase full of original songs, he travels the world, sharing his music with diverse audiences. Along the way, he discovers that his music has the power to transcend language and cultural barriers, forging connections with people from all walks of life.

As he stands on stage, playing songs that resonate deeply with listeners, Clinton realises that his dream of connecting with others through music has become a reality. He no longer sees his pursuit of music as selfish but as a gift that he has to share with the world. In embracing his true passion, he finds fulfilment and a sense of purpose that he never thought possible.

This film is a heartfelt exploration of self-discovery, perseverance, and the transformative power of following one's dreams, even in the face of doubt and uncertainty. Through Clinton's journey, audiences are reminded that sometimes the greatest obstacle we face is the one we create within ourselves, but with courage and determination, we can overcome it and unlock the song inside us all.

Once upon a time, in the vast and sunburnt landscapes of regional Australia, there lived a dreamer named Clint. Clint was not your typical Aussie bloke; he was a songwriter with a heart full of stories and melodies waiting to be shared. With two albums under his belt, he was no stranger to the struggles of the independent artist. Yet, the call of his creative spirit urged him to embark on a journey to write his third album, an epic adventure that would test his resolve and passion.

Clint faced a daunting challenge – he had no record label backing him, no marketing machine, no publisher, and the news of Spotify abandoning payments for artists with fewer than 1000 streams left him feeling like a lone wanderer in the vast outback. Undeterred, Clint decided that this would be the album that would define him, the one that would echo across the hills and resonate with hearts around the world.

Armed with his trusty Cole Clark (tuned a half step down) and the desire, if not the skill, to incorporate piano and string arrangements into his work, Clint set off on the path. Even though you can’t hold a dream, Clint found it a heavy thing to carry. The choice was stark, play the game the way it has been played for all time, after all it works… for some. Or attempt to forge a new path, built on real stories and true connection… and risk being out there all alone.

The conventional path whispered promises of familiarity and safety, a well-trodden road where success was a calculated equation. But Clint's heart beat to the rhythm of a different drum, echoing the tales of the land and the stories etched into the hearts of its people. He yearned for authenticity, for a connection that transcended charts and algorithms.

The quest would be long and potentially (metaphorically) dangerous but there comes a time in an artist’s life where chances must be taken, lest one be deemed unfitting of the moniker.

Rewards await, however the work comes first, your unwavering support is the fuel that pushes us onwards.

As I sit back and reminisce about this time last year, I find myself transported to the recording studio, where the sessions for what would later become “The Soundtrack of Our Lives” were taking shape. The excitement of delving deep into the creative process, capturing songs that longed to be shared with the world, was palpable. From deeply personal compositions to some of my favourite work, the journey was exhilarating.

Fast forward to the album's release in May, and the joy of performing these songs live has been nothing short of thrilling—perhaps as exciting as any moment in my musical career thus far.

Now, with the dawn of a new year, there's a sense of reset, a chance to reflect and plan the next steps. While I'm not one for New Year resolutions, December and the early weeks of January have been spent contemplating the path ahead. I find myself deeply enamoured with the music-making and writing process, reigniting the drive that fuels my creative journey.

The primary focus is on the follow-up to “The Soundtrack of Our Lives”. I've decided to pull back the curtain on the creative process, offering you a glimpse into the journey from the inception of the songs to their recording and the album's final assembly. While I won't reveal too much now, I hope this album will serve as a genuine and worthy sequel to the emotional landscape explored on the last record. Expect an exploration of life's appreciation, the fleeting time we have on this planet, and the people we share that time with.

Keep an eye on your inboxes for updates and messages from me. While I'm uncertain about the next live performance opportunity, I encourage you to come, chat, and become a part of the music I'm creating.

As a token of appreciation, I'd like to offer you a sneak peek into the "where we've come from" aspect of this musical journey… An early demo from the last record—a version that sounds nothing like the final track. It's not better, just different, and I believe you'll sense the evolution. Enjoy this glimpse into the creative process, and thank you for being a part of this musical odyssey.

Whoever said the road has no lessons was obviously not paying attention. Or having too much fun. Either way, I've been playing around the place a bit recently and I've had some thoughts - some nuggets of wisdom if you will (definitely more healthy than actual nuggets). 

Who knew Orange could get so chilly? I mean I did… so what I mean is - who would go to Orange so woefully underprepared (I would)… But hey, they sure dig songwriters and original music, which makes the cold worth it. The Vic, one of my favourite venues, hosted a killer "4 on the 4loor" last month and I was lucky enough to have a spot on stage. It's rare that someone comes up after the show to share how much they enjoyed the music, I wish it'd happen more - maybe you're scared that I'll start talking to you about it.... that connection with the audience is what I've always aimed for though, I'd like to think people are finding something in these songs.

And Bathurst, which outdid Orange for winterness (but again I knew this). Lesson learned: July is not T-shirt weather there, even in the middle of the day. On the bright side, they've got these awesome venues filled with people who genuinely appreciate original tunes. Playing at the Keystone felt like stepping into a scene from a Baz Luhrmann movie – seriously cool vibes. It's like tapping into your inner Greatest Showman, and who doesn't love a bit of that magic? (Yes I know Baz didn't make the Greatest Showman but whatever…)

The great thing has been the incredible new talent I've come across, there are insanely creative people everywhere - we should all get out more and show our support. 

I recently joined the inaugural “Song Circles” – a gig with some of my favorite local musicians. We played each other's tunes, collaborated on some new ones... got a huge compliment from someone in the local scene I deeply respect, who said it was the best gig they'd seen in ages. Encouragement like that fuels this creative desire, and I'm pumped to see where it takes us.

Exciting times ahead as I continue to explore more of the regions. Can't wait to see what the rest of the year has in store.

Thanks for listening!

Embarking on the launch of "The Soundtrack of Our Lives" after a dedicated 2 1/2 years of work, I was moved to see a crowd filled not just with random faces, but with individuals who have supported me throughout this odyssey. This album marks a pivotal moment I think… allowing me to strip back layers and explore the essence of being a songwriter in this phase of my life (still searching for a name for that phase. There's a collection of intimate feelings and strong convictions coming to the forefront as the driving forces behind these creations.

The overwhelming love and support is not lost on me, and I wanna extend my heartfelt gratitude. As I look forward to taking this album on the road in the coming months, I hope I'm creating meaningful stories and experiences to share. To everyone who has been a part of this musical adventure, thank you for your unwavering support—it is genuinely appreciated. Until the next show, thanks for listening and thanks for showing up. It's everything.

This show was supported by Dubbo Regional Council and the NSW Government via the Country Artist Support Program