“Makin’ Plans is a song the Stones themselves might be proud to have under their belt.” – David Nobakht, Buzz Magazine
Welcome back, everyone, to another Damian Lewis’ “Song of the Week” feature! I’m excited to share my thoughts on yet another track from Damian’s debut album Mission Creep. And this time, it’s one where Damian plugs in the electric guitar. Let’s talk about Makin’ Plans.
But before we dive into Makin’ Plans, if you missed earlier posts in our Song of the Week series, you can catch up here.
Makin’ Plans is so rock ’n’ roll that I literally can’t sit still—I have to dance. And yes, I do—right in my living room, pretending I’m ripping it up on an electric guitar. (No, there’s thankfully no video of that! Hahaha.)
Neil McCormick, who interviews Damian about his musical journey for The Telegraph, chooses Makin’ Plans as a standout track on the album. He describes it as “a 12-bar roadhouse blues that energetically mines 1970s rock and boogie from T. Rex to Status Quo for a tale of a disastrous road trip. Delivered with black humour, it includes horrific imagery of a road accident.” So, on the surface, the song is about a road trip gone terribly wrong—possibly inspired by Damian’s own motorbike crashes, which he also speaks about with The Telegraph.
“I’ve had two motorbike crashes. One of them I was very lucky to come out of. Right outside Pentonville Prison on the Caledonian Road, I went straight into the windscreen of a car. Terrible, terrible, terrible crash. I woke up in the middle of the road a few minutes later. Had I not been wearing a closed helmet, I’d be very surprised if I was sitting here right now.”
Just last week, I wrote about Damian’s motorbike crash in front of Pentonville Prison—and how he got a song out of that scary experience. But Makin’ Plans goes beyond a simple crash story. At his gigs, Damian usually sets it up with a grin and asks:
“Do you make plans? And they go to shiiit?”
Classic Damian, right? And that’s what makes me think the crash in Makin’ Plans is really a metaphor for how life can suddenly wreck even our most carefully laid plans. The lyrics paint this vivid picture of a guy, Damian, finally at peace, past struggles behind him, holding hope and dreams for the future.
He’s cruising down an open road, eyes fixed on the horizon, when suddenly—an accident shatters everything. In a moment, those carefully crafted plans disappear, reminding us how fragile life is.
For me, that hole Damian hits in the middle of the road feels like a metaphor for Helen’s illness—her fight with cancer and, in the end, her passing. It doesn’t just wreck the car, which I think symbolizes the happy, steady life they once had—it also destroys every plan the two of them were making for the future. What really gets me, though, is the way Damian describes “his plans” as if they were alive, trying to get away after the crash. It’s such a haunting image.
Just up ahead I could see a shapeStumblin’ and cryin’, desperate to escapeHis blood spilled blackHe might have been a ghost or a soldier
I believe the brilliant design artist Charlie Drinkwater has immortalized this metaphor on the album art work.
And he even narrates the death of his dreams…
“For four or five months, you’re physically drained. Helen was ill for four and a half years. They say that the first day of diagnosis of an illness that could be terminal is your first day of grief. You are in a state of semi-grief while the person is still alive because there is always the sense that something might go wrong at any point.”
He reminds us that you have to stay present and alert at all times, making sure you’re living the best life possible—not just for the person who’s dying, but also for yourself, your family, and your kids. It takes an incredible amount of energy. I’m sure anyone who has lived alongside terminal cancer knows this well: with death comes collapse and deep exhaustion, and yet, somehow, a fierce determination to keep moving forward. And from that determination comes new plans, a new open road, no hell hole to swallow him whole, and new adventures—a musical one, in Damian’s case. 🙂
“Well, death is oddly ecstatic. Along with birth, it’s the ultimate act of life, and it brings this enormous energy to it. And you carry that energy around with you. However deep and profound your sadness, a new beginning always has an energy to it. And it is a new beginning when your wife dies and you’re left on your own. Life has changed. So there is an energy in that.”
Thank you, Damian, for being so open and honest about what you went through. It is not comfortable for many of us to talk about such painful experiences.
So here is Damian performing Makin’ Plans at Hoxton Hall in March 2023. May all your plans unfold exactly as you hope. Cheers.
