THE train seems always to be gathering speed. Onwards, relentless, unstoppable. Even when at rest, there is a sense of moving forward with the journey inching its way to the end. Each passing second, edging her closer.

Sitting there, with nothing but dread for company, she slowly builds up the nerve to go through with it. The whole thing has been planned out, there is no pressure – well, that’s the hope, anyway.

Looking out the windows, she can see she is not far from Edinburgh. The nerves are shredding and her insides begin to churn. There is still time to turn around, head home. She could try again. Or she could just forget about the whole idea and move on.

No. Absolutely not. Her anxieties had held her back long enough. She was going through with it.

From the station, she would head to Leith. Those familiar fears of performing live in front of an audience were beginning to surface, but she was determined. An open mic night – a room full of strangers – just head along and play. In theory, no problem.

She watches as others precede her – marvels at their confidence. The lump in the throat is consuming. It would be easy to slip out, unnoticed. No harm done. Best to go now, before… “Up next on stage, please welcome…Jodi Findlay.”

 

Looking back on that night, she realises it was a crucial point of her career. Those first few steps cannot be underestimated. Sitting in her studio in Whitburn, shortly before a band rehearsal, she reflects on the journey made from then to now. Findlay tells The Weekender about how her desire to perform had been crippled by stage fright. How she was close to giving up on that dream.

But it had to be done, she had to know.

She says: “When you’re there – when you’ve put your name down and you’re waiting – it is so tempting to just ignore them when they call you to come up. I did have that moment when I’d have to decide… am I going to admit that this is my name and that it’s my turn? Am I going to get up and do a set?

“I’ve always found performing to be nerve-racking. I didn’t start until I was around 20. At the same time, others who were my age had been playing for years. But the whole reason I came into music so late was that I was scared and I didn’t think I was good enough. It took so much to do it.”

So, she typed ‘Open Mic Night’ into her phone and found one – original songs only, come along and try your hand. If it was the only night she’d ever performed, then fair enough. If afterwards she never wanted to play again, then at least she’d know it wasn’t for her.

Findlay adds: “I thought: ‘Do you know what? If this goes absolutely awful, I’ll just never play again – and no one will ever know because these people don’t know who I am – it’ll be like it never happened.

“So, I went along, and it was only for original songs. By then, I had so many – I’d always written songs. I was so scared about it, but it was great in the end. It went really well, and I got loads of really good feedback and it just spurred me on.

“I then went again to do two more of those nights in Edinburgh, just to make sure. And they didn’t go terribly well or anything ¬– I was shaky and awkward – but I just felt, afterwards, that I could do it again, so, I will do it again.”

Undeterred by the negative, emboldened by the positive, Findlay remained committed. Opportunities came and she took them. Another set at Midnight Breakfast Club led to another paid gig and Findlay’s place within the West Lothian music scene was solidified. She was greeted with open arms. And as she continued to play, her confidence grew. Bigger and bigger shows, more and more interest.

“I’m not going to lie,” she adds. “For the first 10-15 gigs I was a bag of nerves. It would get to the stage where I would physically be sick before gigs. I still have stage fright and I still have anxiety in general. It was so bad in the beginning but it’s just not like that anymore.

“But I feel it’s important to talk about it because you never know who sees it. I’ve had messages from people saying the same thing: One person said they put their guitar in the loft because they can’t cope with it. Just go somewhere yourself, perform and see where the land lies.

“If it doesn’t work then fair enough. But, for me, I just caught the bug and as soon as I finished, I knew I wanted to keep doing it.

“The worst part is that I think that impacted my voice and my performance so I don’t really think people were able to hear the real me. It didn’t do me justice.

“Eventually, I want to get to the point where that’s not a factor and I am much more controlled. And I’m getting there. If I can go from a time where I am being physically sick before a show to being able to play to 50 people in a certain amount of months, then what can I do in another few months? For me, that gives me hope that I can progress. In six months’ time, I’ll have another goal, and so on.”

Her first official releases came under the Silvi moniker – a partnership with Cameron McLean, who had been the frontman for Pyro. That progress, though hard-earned and welcome, did not keep the nerves away completely. For Findlay, it was a weight pulling her down, and preventing her from being the artist she knew she could be. If only there was a way to keep up the momentum – to release new music without the overbearing pressure to perform.

“That’s maybe what was good about lockdown for me,” she reflects. “It gave so many people the time to put out music, while being unable to gig. I was able to release a song that I felt my vocals were as good as they could be. People could hear what I actually sounded like, without shaking and the crying on stage with the guitar.

“It gave me a lot of confidence and made me feel like I was right to follow through on those early gigs, because people were responding positively to this. I needed that time without the pressure to play live – my first gig in front of an audience for two years will be in December.”

Silvi is booked for a handful of gigs over the next few months, including the Boxing Day show at the Black Bull Inn, in her hometown of Mid Calder. She was also recently confirmed on the bill for King Tut’s New Year Revolution, supporting Clube Beirut on Saturday, January 15. Before then, of course, is a trip to Glasgow for the first show in two years. In a massive night for the future of the West Lothian scene, Silvi supports Dictator at a sold-out show at Stereo.

It will also be the first time, Findlay takes to the stage as Silvi without McLean. Though still great friends, the two parted amicably as the McLean began to delve more into his role as sound technician on tours.

As such, the dynamic has certainly changed, but Findlay is no less determined. The first two Silvi tracks – Your Smoke ad Wish You’d Stay – were co-written by the duo; the most recent release was Findlay on her own. McLean’s departure was announced after the third track was released, with the band now officially a solo project.

“There’s a responsibility,” she says. “But I am so ready for it I have been driven to progress for a while now. I am aware that I am still new to it all, and I’ve had such a gap, but I am ready.

“These next few gigs will be very interesting because I feel like I’ve built up a bit of momentum by releasing singles and interacting online.

“There’s pressure but I’m so glad the work that I’ve put in over lockdown has transpired into these sorts of gigs. But I am just so ready to take it all on and try to build more momentum going forward.”

There may well be more train rides, more doubts. But if the tale of her career thus far says anything, it's that Jodi Findlay overcomes and takes on the next challenge.

Catch Silvi at King Tut’s New Year Revolution on January 15.