The 72-year-old British folk artist on loss, legacy, and the quiet power of making music for no one but yourself.
In a music industry often driven by streaming numbers, production polish, and relentless self-promotion, Frank Watkinson stands in gentle defiance. The 72-year-old British singer-songwriter has built a devoted YouTube following with little more than an acoustic guitar, a well-worn couch, and the kind of voice that feels like an old friend speaking through tears.
Known for his raw, melancholic originals and stripped-down covers of songs both obscure and iconic, Watkinson's work resonates in the emotional creases of life: grief, regret, enduring love, and the persistent ache of memory. His songs are not polished for radio play. They are recorded in the moment, deeply felt, and rarely revisited.
On the debut episode of the 🎙️ Why I Create podcast, hosted by David Haye, Watkinson offered a rare glimpse into the inner life of a man who has quietly moved thousands with his music—and asked for nothing in return.
David Haye (Host):
Welcome to the Why I Create podcast. I’m your host, David Haye.
We are surrounded by art every day—music, film, paintings, architecture. But while we experience the art, how often do we really connect with the artist and the emotions behind their work?
This podcast aims to help fans gain a deeper understanding of the creators themselves.
Today, I'm honored to welcome my very first guest. He lives in the UK and has been playing guitar since a very young age. I’ve been listening to his music for a while now and I’m genuinely excited to speak with him.
His name is Frank Watkinson.
Welcome to the Why I Create podcast. I’m your host, David Haye.
David Haye: How do you describe the kind of art you create?
Frank Watkinson:
I suppose you could call it music, but I’m no musician. It’s just my interpretation of songs—mine or others’—done in my own style. It’s quite melancholic, mostly sad. That’s the way I’ve always played. To some people, it’s lovely. To others, it’s probably just a load of rubbish. But once I’ve played it, once I’ve gotten it off my chest—that’s enough for me.
Haye: What’s been the most rewarding moment in your music journey?
Watkinson:
Financially, it was getting one of my covers placed on an Apple TV series, Home Before Dark. That was a bit of a shock, to be honest. But the moment that really meant something was winning second place in American Songwriter magazine for my song This Could Be My Last Song. Someone actually liked my own song—and that felt real.
Haye: You’ve said before that you’re not a professional musician. Why keep going?
Watkinson:
Because it makes me feel good. I’ve been playing for years with no one listening. Just me, the guitar, the dog, and the cat. It’s therapeutic. The fact that people listen now—that’s lovely. But I’d still be doing this if they didn’t. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
Haye: Is there a particular experience that’s shaped your music?
Watkinson:
Losing my parents when I was young. That kind of loss—it never really leaves you. It’s shaped how I see the world, and how I write. Also, the sound of ’70s folk bands—acoustic guitars, storytelling, that warmth and sadness. That was always the sound for me. I’m not as good as those artists, but I try to live in that space.
Haye: What are you most proud of?
Watkinson:
When someone covers one of my songs. That’s the highest compliment. Makes me feel humble. And beyond music? My family. My wife. My children. Creating something that carries on in the world. That matters too.
Haye: Do you have a recent song you'd like to share?
Watkinson:
Yes, it's called You Make Me Smile. I wrote it a couple days ago. Like most of my songs, it may never be finished or played again. But it came out of my head, and that’s enough.
🎵 Live Song Performance: “You Make Me Smile”
(written and performed by Frank Watkinson)
Picturing you here,
And pouring out another beer,
So many memories to recall.
And those old photographs,
You had the strangest laugh,
When you held my hand, I felt ten feet tall.
You make me smile,
You make me smile,
You make me smile just thinking of you.
And how I miss those walks,
And those intimate talks,
In the evenings as the sun was going down.
The way you had your hair,
And the scruffy clothes you’d wear,
How everything felt right when you were around.
You make me smile,
You make me smile,
You make me smile just thinking of you.
And just the thought of you,
Would chase away the gray,
And you were the one that gave me strength to face another day.
To this day, I’ll never know why
We had to say goodbye.
Maybe it was His plan from the start.
Is this the way it goes?
Nobody really knows,
But in losing you, I gained a broken heart.
But you make me smile,
You still make me smile,
You make me smile just thinking of you...
David Haye:
Frank Watkinson, thank you for being here and sharing your voice with us.
Frank Watkinson:
Thank you. It’s been lovely.
Postscript:
Frank Watkinson’s music can be found on his YouTube channel, where his most popular original song, This Could Be My Last Song, has been viewed over 3.9 million times. His work continues to offer comfort to listeners seeking honesty in a world of noise.
🎵 Song Title: “At 72, I'm Still Playing” (Male Vocal)
Genre: Folk/Blues
Words in Lyrics: 338 words
Instrumentation & Arrangement:
-
Verses: Fingerpicked acoustic guitar, soft upright bass, brushed snare drum
-
Choruses: Add harmony vocals, light piano chords, pedal steel guitar swells
-
Bridge: Solo acoustic guitar, single vocal line, harmonica background
-
Vocals: Raw, close-mic male vocal (Frank Watkinson-style), intimate and emotionally restrained
Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
I never learned to sing too sweet,
And my fingers fumble with the strings,
But I’ve carried this old wooden box
Through every loss and lesser things.
I never stood beneath bright lights,
Never sold a crowd a tune,
Just me and the cat and the dog at night,
And the sound of a half-sung moon.
[Chorus]
But I’m still playing,
Though no one ever stayed,
Still saying
What I never really said.
I don’t mind the silence
Or the years that slipped away—
It’s just me and the ghosts
And this guitar I play.
[Verse 2]
They say I sing the saddest songs,
Well, maybe that’s just how I cope.
Each line a thread of something gone,
Each note a little hope.
I once had love, I once had loss,
The kind you carry like a name.
I write them down and let them go,
But the ache still feels the same.
[Chorus]
Still playing,
Even when no one knows,
Still laying
Old sorrows out in rows.
I don’t need applause
Or even brighter days—
It’s just me and the echoes
And this guitar I play.
[Bridge]
And if someone finds one of my tunes,
And plays it soft and slow,
That’s more than I ever asked for—
It’s more than they’ll ever know.
[Final Chorus]
Still playing,
’Cause the music won’t let go,
Still praying
Through every high and low.
It don’t have to be perfect,
It don’t need to be brave—
It’s just me and the quiet
And this guitar I play.
🎙️ Behind the Song: “At 72, I'm Still Playing”
Written in response to Frank Watkinson’s appearance on the Why I Create podcast, “At 72, I'm Still Playing” is a fictionalized tribute to the ethos of a real artist. At 72, Watkinson has no label, no tour dates, and no plans to stop recording the music that’s helped him navigate decades of personal loss, quiet victories, and persistent grief.
The lyrics draw directly from his candid reflections—on playing guitar since age 14, on losing his parents young, and on finding solace in melancholic songwriting even when no one was listening. With lines like “Just me and the ghosts / And this guitar I play,” the song encapsulates Watkinson’s emotional honesty and dedication to craft over recognition.
Recorded in a simple home setup—much like Frank’s own YouTube sessions—the instrumentation leans into warm acoustic tones and raw vocal presence, echoing the lo-fi intimacy that has become his signature sound.
At 338 words, the song speaks volumes in its restraint—just like the man who inspired it.
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