An old song from a younger man. I think this was the first thing I ever recorded and mixed myself, maybe? 2004, perhaps? An old Boss BR-864. Singing into the onboard mics. Still trying to rid myself of an American accent when I sang. Still dropping ‘g’s.
Think too much, I act too slow The moments pass and the syntax refuses to flow Don’t think of it as sentiment Or a nervousness as I have to catch my breath In that pause (the heart beat) I take in the room and the walls and the light And I breath, I breath in that moment And just for that moment, just in that moment is all Baby Baby, come
Half-lit room with its breathless air I can only just begin to forgive myself For daring to dress you down Are we open now? When we talk, when we touch each to other’s mouths? Confess to me all you dare and I swear we can be ourselves In a breath, in a breath in a moment And just for that moment, just in that moment is all Baby Baby, come
Think too much, I act too slow The moments pass and the syntax refuses to flow Don’t think of it as sentiment Or a nervousness as I have to catch my breath Confess to me all you dare and I swear we can be ourselves In a breath, in a breath in a moment And just for that moment, that one tender moment is all Baby Baby, come
I was saddened to hear of the sudden and unexpected passing of Virginia Anderson this weekend. I met her through watching the South Leicestershire Improvisors Ensemble and then getting to play with them. I will miss her enthusiasm and encouragement and my thoughts go out to Chris and Virginia’s friends and family. Xx
Riding my bike home from work in the not quite nearly night of the early evening. My twin silhouettes, cast on the hedgerow from the headlights of the car behind me, slowly, confidently, glide past my side as they overtake me leaving me alone in the dark again. My front light glints speckles of light as it catches beer cans, bottles, discarded items littering the grubby sullen roadside.
I think this light play is the only positive to another dull day, until I reach the top of the hill and peer over my shoulder. The waxing crescent of a silver new moon hangs bright in the buff orangey pink light of dusk. I stop and pull over to stare at it, feeling undeniably alive.
I decided on a whim, neither having heard of them or heard them, to see them live on the basis of this photo whilst scrolling around Folk Radio. “What is that dude doing with a Gretsch in a forest?!?”
I did my utmost, too, to not listen to them, to not search out what they might be like before the event. I conceded briefly, though, when trying to encourage some others to come along. 22 seconds in to the the video for ‘Charmer’ and I was on shaky ground – “That dude is bowing a mandola?!?” I had to turn it off as I thought my head might explode in expectation.
The gig itself was wonderful. Two Fridays before lockdown V.1, an uncertainty of what was to happen both then and afterwards, this beautiful undulating cloud of sound drifted around the Guildhall – voice, strings and harmonium floating around us. This melding of different organic elements creating one gentle incredible, shimmering whole. It was wonderful.
I got to speak a little to Ewan and Lauren afterwards, mainly about guitar things and it took all my strength not to buy a record – I didn’t want that to become my memory of the evening and how it made me feel. But isolating at home afterwards, the sounds still buzzing around in my thoughts, I had to. And it’s as close to perfect as you could get.A total joy.
Hairbrush? Check! Screwdriver? Check! Love song to the insignificance of us all in the face of the vastness of the night sky played in front of Kelly Richardson’s Mariner 9 installation? Check Check Check! This was a wonderful experience to be part of that I am so very grateful for.