‘The humanity of music is being pushed out’

Actually, that’s not even the full list, he tells me as we sit in the lobby of the Dakota Eurocentral Hotel just off the M8.

“For the past three years I’ve been running a podcast where kids interview authors online. It just won Best Children and Young Adults podcast at the Independent Podcast Awards in London a couple of weeks ago.”

OK, so that’s teacher, musician, father and podcaster.

“I do everything,” Kelly admits. “I’m sure there are things that I don’t do that I probably should. I’m sure there are some parts of my life … Well, sleep is certainly one. I’m not a big sleeper.”

How’s your garden looking, Peter?

“Artificial.”

I’ve come along this Monday evening to talk to Kelly the musician. But it’s impossible to separate that aspect of his life out from everything else. Because he doesn’t separate it out. His life is not about compartamentalising things. As far as he’s concerned, it’s all a continuum.

Still, we’re here because he has a new album, Hourglass, coming out under the name of his musical alter ego Beerjacket. And there’s an accompanying appearance at Glasgow Cottiers, a gig celebrating 20 years of music-making which will see him perform with the Cairn String Quartet

Hourglass is new but it’s also old at the same time. Kelly has taken the opportunity to re-record some of his early songs, to give them a proper show as it were. And so here are new versions of Beerjacket favourites The Bar That Never Closes and Drum.

The process of revisiting old songs has proven both exciting and maybe even a little bit humbling, he says.

“It’s been amazing how much better some of the songs were, which has given me a bit of an inferiority complex next to my earlier self. Because when you don’t know the rules you don’t know you’re breaking them.

“In fact, one of the things I practically broke was my arms learning to play these songs again. I genuinely had to go for physio. My left arm was … ‘What are you doing to me?’

“I was doing a concert with Fionn Reagan in 2006 and somebody had put up on MySpace that it looked like I was trying to saw my guitar in half. I always thought that was a really bizarre comment until recently when I realised that’s pretty much what I was doing.”

Now 46, Kelly feels this is a good moment to reassess and reconnect with what he has been doing for the last two decades.

“If you’ve been doing anything for 20 years it deserves a re-evaluation. For the first 10 years I was fairly relentlessly writing songs, recording them and dispensing with them. And maybe not giving the first thought to the fact I had created material that I was really proud of or I would be proud of if I gave myself a chance.”

Read more

The most entertaining biography since Taylor and Burton memoir: 10 books to read next

'It's going to be very strange not to be on the wireless any more'

Some of those early songs were recorded pretty basically. This was a chance to give them a better hearing as it were. There’s the odd lyrical tweak too.

“I was almost able to help out my younger self,” he suggests. “I am a teacher, so I was marking myself. I could see an enthusiastic student who just needed to take his time and get things right.”

The result is an album that is fresh and maybe familiar at the same time. A reminder that Beerjacket has always been a creator of intimate and honest songs. The means of expression may have changed slightly over the years. He may have become more open to collaboration in recent years. But at heart, Beerjacket in 2004 and Beerjacket in 2024 are not so very different.

Peter Kelly’s back story goes like this. Born and raised in Airdrie and Coatbridge, he was in a band by the time he was 14 and had signed a publishing deal by 16. He loved Nirvana and wanted to be famous. And then in his twenties he began to realise that his teenage dreams weren’t actually what he wanted at all. 

“When you’re a teenager or early twenties and you’re trying to be successful in music I think, depending on who you are, that can be really damaging to the music.”

Instead, he became a teacher, found fulfilment in that. And in turn that liberated his songwriting.

“I knew I was a teacher. My first concert was supposed to be the only one. I kind of meant to quit 20 years ago. But, unfortunately, I love it. I don’t think it’s even in my gift to quit. There’s no agony or pain in doing it. It’s totally natural.”

The music has always had to fit in with the rest of his life. That has had consequences. He’s played gigs, but never really toured. But then, he says, “I would be away from all the things that make me write.”

It means he probably isn’t as well known as he could be, even should be. “I’m not someone with a massive audience. I’m sure there are music fans in Scotland who won’t know anything about me.”

Then again he doesn’t want to be known. But he’d like more people to know his songs. “I do love these songs. I am proud of them.”

Still, he’s managed to play with the likes of The National, Kristin Hersh (who is now a good friend), Frightened Rabbit, Arab Strap and St Vincent among many others over the years. He’s been part of Celtic Connections and played live on BBC Two.

“I’ll get emails and messages from people that make me realise that even if my audience is not huge, the affection that people have got for the things that I’ve done is touchingly huge.

“I’m not blase about someone writing me an email about how one of their kids sang one of my songs in class in front of other children when they could pick any song. I wouldn’t ignore any of these little victories because they’re not victories for me, they’re victories for the song.”

When I spoke to him 10 years ago he was horrified about the idea of letting his music be used for adverts. A decade later he is more open to the idea of letting it be licensed if that opportunity was to arise. But that’s partly, he acknowledges, because he’d like to be heard and it’s harder than ever for that to happen these days when music is so immediately available. And it’s going to get even harder soon.

“It’ won’t be long before what is already a saturated market for music is going to be populated mostly by AI,” he points out. And that’s dangerous.

“It’s not so much that human beings are being pushed out, it's the humanity of music that’s being pushed out.”

That’s the fear. Kelly, by contrast, offers the hope that it is possible to live a creative life on your own terms. He is a teacher and a father and a musician and none of those things get in the way of any of the others. Rather, they complement each other.

For evidence just look at his new album Hourglass. “The artwork is my daughter’s,” he points out, looking at the cover. “It’s so beautiful. She and I worked on it together. That was really special. My son plays drums on the second song. 

“Collaborating with my own children …” He pauses, smiles. “I just feel so fortunate that a creative life includes creating with your family.”

In an ideal world Peter Kelly would love to work with The Blue Nile’s Paul Buchanan. He’d love to take part in the next Roaming Roots Revue as part of Celtic Connections. But even if none of these things happen he is OK with where he is. He is not short of ways to fill his time.

The Beerjacket 20th Anniversary Show with Cairn String Quartet takes place at Cottiers, Glasgow on November 14. Hourglass by Beerjacket is released on Bandcamp on November 15.