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,
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.
My Phantom Voice. In the wood and the strings of the guitar.
I feel a need to explain but does it matter?
Everything vibrates with an energy.
That it then gets put in a little digital box for you to (hopefully) look at (first),
(Hopefully) listen to (second) is both my doing
October, gateway to Autumn proper. Turning leaves, now falling.
But yet such chaos all around us. What will we notice in the clamour of it all? Possibly nothing.
Back in the afternoons, wandering around the garden. I am very fond of Anglesey.
It’s the end of May. I can still here virtually nothing out of my left ear (currently). My house is still mostly a building site (currently). But below is the sound of the walk from Ophthalmology at the Leicester Royal Infirmary to the ground floor.
The distance between then and now is filled with the wonder of remembering what happened on the night. On how it amazing it felt being amongst all that sound; gently passing one idea on to one another and finally all arriving at the same place, looking at each other and listening and thinking and……………then it’s done.
I leapt at the chance of getting to work with Lucy and her recordings again. Getting to play with Rattle was, quite frankly, amazing. I am so happy that this happened and thank everyone that made it so.
Last night at the hairdressers
I read a poem that made me tingle all over.
I can’t remember any of the words,
But I can remember how it made me feel.
I have written about Lucy Stevens before ( gig envy! ) and have followed her work since I first found out about it. Despite living near-ish to one another we had never met. Then at the Her Name is Calla 10 year anniversary shows I asked the ever wonderful David Wilson Clarke if he knew her and he said ‘ Yes, would you like to meet her? She’s over there!’
A conversation took place and an idea was suggested and I went away to work on it but nothing I tried seem to work……… until a year and a bit later when something clicked and fell into place. And I’ve been keeping it to myself. I’ve been looking (listening) to it every two weeks or so to see if it’s still there and every time it catches me by surprise.
I like it very much and feel sufficiently bold enough to share it with you. Press play and drift off somewhere else. I hope you enjoy it.
The original field recording of Lucy’s is here – https://soundcloud.com/lucystevensaudio/dawn-chorus-slapton-woods
The unedited version of my bit is here – https://soundcloud.com/peterwyeth/for-slapton-prt-ii/s-wPrs1
A dream horse.