Foundling, studio diary

With a bit of late day gardening and pints of cider at eccentric pubs thrown in, we are back at Pear Tree Studios in Devon. To get warmed up after our little break, we dug into a cover song we have been meaning to do for a while now. Perfect in this old victorian landscape, we will also shoot a video in the next days over in the ghostly moors. But for a little audio taste, tomorrow we will post a soundclip of some creepy sexy backing vocals. stay tuned.

song: Spooky

So the album making gets a staggered pause as I spend a bit of much needed cat cuddle time in Canada but first Marc strides to a sunnier more southern side of the world.. With the melodies and album to-do-lists still swirling in our minds we will let ourselves be inspired for a short while.. Hands tied but minds whirring with the grey and brown roadside passing, set to burst forth into green and blossom.. 

We have rounded off the edges of ‘All Else’ toying with the working title (it should be more epic!) and finally finalised the lyrics. Reversed the chorus cellos for the doppler effect and creating space in the echoey caves and cliffs of this song. Moving directly to ‘Fell Asleep’ (also needs a new title!) with all its layers of Ooos.. We added some creepy slide guitars and brought Kristinas musical saw takes back in and then finally some magical flute! (flute player requested to remain anonymous) making this song all the more mysterious! Also added some new classics to the ever inspiring record collection! 

Temporary goodbyes and solitary days..

Pickle sandwiches and kombucha, the oldest song originally intended for the record, a long slow delayed guitar wander, goodbye Kristina come home soon and have a great tour, a six week fancy cocktail abstinence in your absence, Marc also gone globe trotting, alone in the glow of the light up one but i am sticking close to home.. 

A beautiful shiny afternoon all ears and the boys getting into tiny sub bass toys. David came bearing the gift of his new album in all its glory. Sublime packaging complete with woodsy medallion hand numbered thin treasure chest and the music is subtly rapturous.  https://soundcloud.com/unperceived-records/memum-became-a-leaf

We listened through to most of what we have done so far. Some things we haven't looked at for months and we were pleasantly surprised but also overwhelmed with all the work we still have to do. We have our work cut out for us. Like making all the snowflakes for the entire winter warming ball, decorating every table and hanging from every rafter of the sizeable gymnasium. But it will be transformed into a sparkly wonderland. Then we will watch them slow dance. 

Sometimes a song gives you a little hint of what it will be about, a snached lyric, reached for as a placeholder, a syllabic suggestion in the first attempt at a melody, and it sticks. Then with only these toes showing from behind the curtain it holds its breath and hides, it waits while you wrestle with the melody and rhythm, it shifts with the dust in the late afternoon sunbeams, it evades with distraction and tiptoes around when you decide to sleep on it. 

Sunny coffee time and playing some slide guitar today after yesterday evening's cello extravaganza, bookmarked by Tunel Cocktails and Haloumi sandwiches, working on a song called 'Towards Me'. Two days ago it was a few dreamy chords on slide guitar and now it has a whole world of cellos tumbling swirling and echoing themselves and a theme of silent days listening to cities histories, based on a poem i wrote in the fall with the same title~

You are heading towards me across the city vaguely south and east two floors down and out across the tram tracks and train tracks under flashing screens of bright psychedelic fragility you glide and push worry to where it hides, almost and i have spent the days silently knowing there are too many details to take in too many sounds and cracks,  too much history rumbling in the foundations echoing in the empty faucets and rattling the windows ever so slightly and let them be a feeling the feeling of you approaching with long strides.

tonight  i will notice all the details of your hands the notes in your voice i can manage that distracted in public places.

we are just like real civilians like people who secretly know all each others secrets wondering if we are all sitting here asking the big questions or just listening to the leaves softly dying

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