In A World Gone Mad - Frank Watkinson -This could be my last song

 

Digital Troubadour: How Frank Watkinson Turned Living Room Acoustics into a YouTube Phenomenon

An Unlikely Musical Journey from Suburban Living Room to Global Audience

In the vast digital landscape of online music, where polished productions and viral algorithms reign supreme, a 71-year-old musician from suburban England has carved out an unexpected sanctuary of authenticity. Frank Watkinson, with nothing more than a well-worn acoustic guitar, a faithful canine companion, and an unvarnished approach to music-making, has transformed the intimate act of personal musical expression into a global conversation.

His rise is not a tale of manufactured stardom, but an organic emergence of genuine artistry—a counterpoint to the highly produced, algorithm-driven music consumption of the digital age. Watkinson's YouTube channel, approaching one million subscribers, represents more than mere musical performance; it is a testament to the enduring human hunger for raw, unfiltered emotional connection.

The journey begins, as many profound musical narratives do, with simple influences. Watkinson's musical roots stretch back to the iconic soundscapes of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, evolving through the acoustic folk traditions of James Taylor and Pentangle. But it was a concert by the indie musician Passenger that reignited a dormant musical passion, transforming what was once a casual hobby into a profound artistic statement. (Passenger Playlist)

Watkinson's methodology defies conventional music production. Using basic USB interfaces and two modest microphones, he records everything in single, unedited takes. There are no studio tricks, no multi-tracking, no post-production magic—just a man, his guitar, and occasionally, the soft snoring of his canine companion. This deliberate minimalism is not a limitation but a philosophy, a rejection of the sterile perfection that dominates contemporary musical landscapes.

His covers—ranging from Slipknot's aggressive "Snuff" to Radiohead's introspective "Creep"—are not mere reproductions but radical reinterpretations. By translating complex rock tracks into simple, accessible acoustic arrangements, Watkinson democratizes music. Each performance becomes an invitation, suggesting that musical expression is not the exclusive domain of virtuosos but a universal language accessible to anyone with passion and four basic guitar chords.

The YouTube comments reveal the deeper significance of Watkinson's art. Viewers don't just watch; they commune. His channel has become what he calls a "safe place," where strangers share intimate life stories, find emotional resonance, and feel genuinely heard. In an era of digital alienation, his music creates genuine human connection.

This connection transcends traditional metrics of musical success. Watkinson makes no claims to technical brilliance—he describes himself candidly as a "grandad with a guitar" who cannot even remember all his own songs. Yet this vulnerability becomes his greatest strength. His performances strip away musical pretension, celebrating the beauty of imperfection and the courage of artistic vulnerability.

His perspective on musicianship is profoundly democratic. "You don't have to be perfect if you enjoy doing it," he insists—a philosophy that challenges not just musical orthodoxies but broader cultural narratives about talent, success, and self-expression. For Watkinson, the act of creation itself is the ultimate validation.

Technologically, Watkinson represents an interesting counterpoint to artificial, algorithmic music production. In an age where artificial intelligence can generate hyper-realistic musical performances, his music celebrates distinctly human qualities: spontaneity, imperfection, genuine emotion. When accused of being an AI-generated performer, he points to the very human inconsistencies in his recordings—sync issues from basic video editing, the occasional cat walking across his recording equipment.

What emerges is a portrait of an artist who has accidentally—or perhaps purposefully—created a new model of musical engagement. Watkinson doesn't chase viral moments or algorithmic optimization. He simply plays, shares, and connects. His channel is less a performance platform and more a living, breathing community—a digital living room where music becomes a shared experience.

In Frank Watkinson, we witness something remarkable: a reminder that in an increasingly mediated world, authenticity remains our most powerful currency. His music doesn't just entertain; it testifies to the enduring human capacity for genuine expression, connection, and joy. 

Frank Watkinson: A Candid Conversation with an Indie Music Sensation

From Living Room to YouTube: One Musician's Unexpected Journey

In this intimate interview, Christian McMillan sits down with Frank Watkinson, a 71-year-old musician who has unexpectedly amassed a million YouTube subscribers through his raw, authentic acoustic covers and original music.

1. How did you start creating music? (0:28) Frank describes his musical journey as somewhat subconscious, influenced by early bands like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, and later acoustic folk artists. A pivotal moment came when he saw Passenger perform, which reignited his passion for guitar.
2. What is your approach to creating cover songs? (13:15) Frank primarily selects covers based on audience suggestions, adapting songs to his skill level and acoustic style. He looks for songs he can translate to simple guitar chords, making them accessible to other amateur musicians.
3. How did your YouTube channel gain popularity? (10:43) Initially uploading covers without expectations, Frank's channel unexpectedly grew, with some videos like his Slipknot "Snuff" cover going viral. His channel has become a "safe place" for viewers, with comments often featuring personal life stories.
4. What equipment do you use for recordings? (20:14) Frank uses basic USB interfaces and two microphones, recording everything live in one take. He uses GarageBand to adjust volume and occasionally apply effects like "natural stum" to reduce background noise.
5. How do you view your musical style? (26:53) Frank embraces the "indie" label, representing a minimalist, intimate approach to music that prioritizes emotional authenticity over technical perfection.
6. What advice do you have for aspiring musicians? (32:52) Frank emphasizes enjoying the process over achieving perfection. He encourages musicians to play for themselves, not an imagined critical audience, and to make the most of their current skills.

Frank Watkinson represents a unique musical phenomenon: an older musician who has found unexpected digital success through authentic, unpolished acoustic performances. His YouTube journey highlights the power of genuine artistic expression, demonstrating that technical perfection is less important than emotional connection. By adapting popular songs to his simple guitar style and embracing his limitations, Watkinson has created a distinctive musical identity that resonates with hundreds of thousands of viewers. His story is a testament to the democratizing power of online platforms and the enduring appeal of raw, heartfelt music.

Transcript

Please be advised this transcript is AI-generated and may not be word for word. Time codes refer to the approximate times.

Christian McMillan: Welcome to *A World Gone Mad*, where I am your host, Christian McMillan. Today, I'm joined by musician Frank Watkinson, who caught my eye—or ear, rather—with his song titled "This Could Be My Last Song." How's it going, Frank? Frank Watkinson: Going fine, thanks. Christian [0:28]: So, when I heard your song, I thought it was a really beautiful meditation on one's mortality. Frank: Yeah, yeah. I suppose it is, but I wasn't really thinking about anything when I wrote it. I was just... it was a bit subconscious, you know? I can't really explain it. I had the chorus, and I just wanted to write words that matched the chorus. And they just came out. A lot of people analyze it, I noticed. I thought, "Why?" And then I started reading it myself and thought, "I can see why now." I suppose it was just subconsciously coming out. I don't think there's any lines in there that people haven't sort of thought about themselves, you know? So, it's just basing observation on everybody's life. Christian [1:44]: Yeah, one of the most common traits of the human condition—something everybody has to come to terms with. So, did you write the guitar part initially and then come up with the lyrics later when you say you just wrote words to coincide with it? Frank: I usually write the lyrics because, um, you might have noticed I'm not a very good musician. I only know simple guitar chords. So, I usually write the lyrics and then make the tune fit the lyrics. But I've sort of got the idea when I'm writing the lyrics of how the tune will go. That was just a backing tune. When I first wrote it, the chorus wasn't as it is now—it was sung in a slightly different way. But when I started playing it, I couldn't reach the notes. Christian [3:03]: Okay, you had to adjust for your vocal range? Frank: Yeah, exactly. I started low, and I couldn't get to the chorus. So, I thought, "All right, let's change the tune and make it more simple." Christian [3:15]: That's a thing I've even seen some artists do in the studio, where depending on the range of the vocalist, they'll sometimes alter the whole key of a song to accommodate the singer's strong suit. Frank: That's what I do. I haven’t got a singing voice at all. I’m more a talking singer, they say. It's talking, really. And when I do covers of people’s songs, I always have to change the key totally and probably drop out a few chords as well, just to get it done in my style.

Christian [3:56]: Yeah, that's part of writing a song, right? Keeping it provisional and trying to refine it to the best final product. Frank: Well, like I said, I wouldn't call myself a musician. I've never played anywhere—I’ve only played here in my house. I don’t do gigs or anything because I’ve got a memory like a sieve. I’d forget half the songs if I tried to do them. But I’ve said this before—they’re not an album, they’re not supposed to be the finished article. They’re just like, "This is the idea of the song." I’ll sing it and play it, and if someone wants to make it all studio-professional, then go ahead. But that’s not what I do. Christian [5:10]: I think that charm really comes across, though. The sort of artist it reminds me of is something like early Leonard Cohen or even Elliott Smith. There’s this really appealing trait of minimalist production where it feels intimate. It just feels like it’s me, you, and your guitar in a room. Frank: Yeah, and that’s how I like it to be. If I look through any of my recordings on YouTube, I can see every mistake I made. But because I do everything sort of live, one little mistake in a five-minute song—I’m not going to do it again. Christian [6:03]: Sometimes on record, those mistakes are the little human pieces of magic you want to keep. Frank: Yeah, it gets a bit too sterilized, doesn’t it? If it is all perfect. The technology is so good that you could imitate my voice now on anything and make it perfect But, It wouldn’t be me. There would be something missing.

Christian [6:37]: Yeah. No matter how many studio tools there are to adjust things, people do crave the human element. That’s the appeal of music like yours. Frank: Well, with me, it’s like my YouTube—it’s what you see is what you get. There’s no frills. I’ve done a couple of studio-type songs with people, like a song called "Bottle of Friends." I do it acoustically, but a friend who’s a proper musician wanted to make it more professional. As much as I liked it, it’s not really me. I’m just this grandad with a guitar. Christian [8:10]: Absolutely, though—it markets itself with a charm. Who would you say some of your influences are?

Frank: That’s a hard one. I’m 71 now, so there have been a lot over the years. When I was young, it was the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, especially the Stones' ballads. Then, in the '60s and '70s, I got into the folk era—James Taylor, Ralph McTell, Pentangle. That’s when I realized it’s the acoustic guitar I love. But I wasn’t playing much—life gets in the way. Then, about five or six years ago, I saw Passenger. It was just him and his acoustic guitar, and that got me back into it. I started doing Passenger covers and then my own stuff. I put it on YouTube, not expecting anyone to listen. But now, I’m close to a million subscribers. Christian [11:02]: A great deal of people are watching. Frank Watkinson: Yeah, which I still find hard to believe, but it’s there. (Excerpt 1)

Christian [11:03]: I think it goes along with the music and kind of markets itself, whereas even just you alone with your guitar in your place and not expecting anyone to pay attention really is one of the most charming elements of it.

Frank: Well, um, my YouTube seems to have turned into a bit of a cult as well. The comments—people are opening their souls up to me in their comments, sharing their life stories, and some of them are even asking for advice. I'm not really one for advice; 

Christian [11:45]:  That’s got to be how akin they feel to the music, where they feel like they know me and can ask for life advice.

Frank : A lot of them say they’re calling your channel their safe place on the internet. 

Christian: That’s cool.

Frank: Yeah, which I like. It’s nice, you know. I quite like it, but it’s just that a couple of covers really got hit—sort of big—and it’s surprising how things change overnight. One night, I was watching my grandson; he pulled up the stats on my YouTube and said, "Look at this." The subscribers were ticking over like a clock, just going and going. I thought, "Wow, when’s that going to stop?"

Christian [12:38]: It probably only gained momentum.

Frank: Yeah, well, it’s funny. I think YouTube must promote certain stuff because there are songs I did a long time ago that I’d forgotten about, and all of a sudden, they start getting comments again. I think YouTube is pushing them in a way, you know, like suggesting them.

Christian [13:07]: Yeah, the algorithm takes a path of its own over time. How do you determine what songs you want to do covers of? Because you have a bit of a diverse range in terms of artists you’ll cover.

Frank: It’s mainly suggestions. People ask if I take requests. Well, I don’t exactly say yes, but there’s nothing to stop them from requesting. The comments are theirs, so they make requests, and I look at them. If the song makes me think, "Oh, I could possibly do that. I might be able to do something with that one," then I’ll try it. But there are so many requests I couldn’t do them all.

Somebody once asked for this really long, heavy guitar song—about six minutes of mostly instrumental and just four lines of lyrics repeated twice. I thought, "Well, that’s not going to translate on an acoustic guitar." I just work out what I think I can do.

Christian [14:38]: Can you talk about "Snuff." Frank: Yeah, that’s actually what I had in mind—the Slipknot cover. A friend in Liverpool messaged me and said, "Can you try this one?" I listened to the Slipknot version and thought, "No, I can’t do this." But I played around with it, sent it back to him, and said, "This is what I came up with." He loved it so much and told me I should post it. I didn’t expect anyone to like it, but it went mad. Christian [15:23]: I think you do something really well with covers—you make them your own. Whether or not you’d view it as adjusting for weaknesses, it becomes a strength in the finished product. Frank: Yeah, with me, it’s adjusting it to make it playable in my key and using chords that I know. A lot of people say, "You’ve made it your own." I think what I’ve done is make it accessible. If you know four or five chords on a guitar, you can play any of my songs. Christian [16:22]: I know what you mean. At the same time, you’re the one playing them. There are so many people who see someone get attention for something and think, "I could have done that." But the truth is, they didn’t. Frank: Exactly. You get that sometimes. A young lad once said he could play all of Jimi Hendrix’s songs. He was boasting about it, but he didn’t consider that when Hendrix was doing it, he didn’t have all the modern equipment we have now. He was creating those sounds with just his amp and sheer talent. Christian [17:48]: Right, everything’s templates now. Sometimes, though, music like yours shows that it doesn’t take more features or templates to be unique. Sometimes going back to the bare bones is what stands out. Sometimes less is more. Frank: I’m not very keen on my own voice, but if you read the comments, a lot of people like it. I can’t change my voice, so I’ll go along with it. Another part of it is probably my dog sleeping behind me. Christian [18:56]: I’ve noticed the dog in your pictures before. Frank: Yeah, I think a lot of people just want to see the dog. When I come in here, sit down, and pick up my guitar, he knows what’s coming and just flops down. Christian [19:34]: Enjoys the show, huh? Frank: Until he starts snoring through a song! Christian [19:47]: My dog does the same thing! ,,, Frank: Yeah, it’s funny. I’ve got two cats too. They walk across here and change all the settings. My recordings are very basic. I use USB interfaces to plug in two microphones—one for vocals and one under the guitar. It’s all done live. I drop it into GarageBand, mainly to raise the volume. Christian [22:10]: Sounds like a simple setup, but it works. Frank: Yeah, like with "Snuff." That was recorded with a cheap mic that had a tiny bit of echo I couldn’t turn off. I’ve thought about re-recording it, but it’s the version everyone loves. Christian [23:10]: If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.

Frank: Exactly. Best leave it as it is. (Excerpt 2)

Christian [23:19]: Sometimes the court of public opinion, what you view as a mistake or an accident, will be interpreted very differently, yeah?

Frank: Yeah, it's like the next one was another one, which they went mad for—it was "Creep." I was never going to do "Creep." Someone asked me to do a Mitski song—I’d only heard a couple of Mitski tracks—and I did "My Love Mine All Mine." As I was doing it, I thought, "This is basically 'Creep.'" The chords were so similar: C and CM to E7. I did the Mitski song, and it went mad. Then I kept getting asked for "Creep" again.

I didn’t really want to do it because it’s basically playing the same song again. One morning, I just did it quickly because people wanted it, and "Creep" took off as well. So now I’m looking for more songs with those four chords.

Christian [24:41]: I could see that. Are you a big Radiohead fan in general?

Frank: I like Radiohead, but I wouldn’t say I’m a massive fan of anybody. I like what I like. I do like most of what I hear from Radiohead, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that everything they do is great just because I’m a fan. There are other bands I wouldn’t dream of listening to, and then they come out with a song that’s actually good. You can’t not like it just because you don’t like the band.

Christian [25:39]: Sometimes you have to analyze each individual piece and release from an artist. I’m the same way. Even bands I love will have stronger and weaker albums.

Frank: Yeah, usually the second album is when they really hone it. The first one often does it, but the second one is where the record company says, "We need another one." Trying to recreate magic in a bottle can sometimes cause a flop.

Christian [26:20]: Or it just takes away some of the genuineness and vulnerability that might have been the magic the first time around.

Frank: Yeah, I don’t really have that problem because I don’t record for a label. I don’t think I’ll get a record company behind me.

Christian [26:38]: I don’t think you need a record company behind you.

Frank: No, please. The term "indie" came up a while ago—independent artist. Someone said, "You’re an indie," and I thought, "Oh, that’s cool."

Christian [27:06]: That’s exactly what I’d use to describe your work—barebones guitar, intimate and vulnerable tracks without a great deal of production. It lets the music speak for itself.

Frank: Yeah, and sometimes people don’t like what they hear, but that’s just the way it is. There’s always someone looking for the downside.

Christian [28:11]: That’s true. Sometimes people online will find flaws even where they don’t exist.

Frank: Yeah, I got a comment the other day asking why there’s an upside-down cross on my guitar. It’s a peace sign, but someone saw what they wanted to see.

Christian [28:46]: Sometimes I wonder if those are even real people or just bots stirring up arguments.

Frank: It’s scary, really. You see these futuristic films where someone gets framed with a fake video. It’s becoming harder to determine what’s real and what’s not.

Christian [31:06]: Some people wonder if future generations will develop the skills to instinctively tell the difference between artificial intelligence and reality.

Frank: They’ve got a lot of learning to do. Someone thought I was AI and had all these reasons—like my lips not being in sync with the guitar. It’s just that I use GarageBand for my audio, and it’s not made for syncing video.

Christian [32:32]: I know that struggle. I do a lot of nudging myself to find the right sync.

Frank: Yeah, and I don’t have technical skills. I just make the most of what I’ve got. I know I’m not a great singer or guitar player, but I enjoy doing it. There’s no need to be perfect if you love what you’re doing.

Christian [33:40]: Your natural interest in something is often what matters most. You don’t get to choose what stimulates you—it just happens.

Frank: Exactly.

Christian [33:59]: I think that’s a great place for us to leave off. Thank you so much for being here, Frank.

Frank: Yeah, we got it done in the end, despite a couple of scheduling snafus.

Christian [34:11]: Absolutely. I’d recommend everyone check out Frank Watkinson’s YouTube page—his covers and his song, This Could Be My Last Song. Thanks for listening.