January Afternoon Light

 

Brian Player's Acoustic Cafe Radio Show

 Thanks to Brian Player for playing A Good Life with a Bad Apple on his show last night! Listen again here:

https://www.mixcloud.com/brian-player/acoustic-cafe-radio-show-5th-january-2021-hilary-james-julie-fowlis-and-many-more-artists/

Plectrum Problem

I've been recording a song for a compilation that's being put together by Bob Grover from The Piranhas. Every song needs it's own distinctive flavour, and to add spice to this one, I'd decided to do some lead guitar overdubs. In order to do that I needed a plectrum, but somehow in the lockdown/stand-down changes, my small bag of Dunlop Mediums has vanished from my bag. Although I live in a small house, the bag of plectrums is so titchy that there's no way I'd find it in time to remember the part and record it.

In my head I searched for spares. I've been so tidy recently that every time I came across a stray plectrum I sought out the bag and put it in there, which in retrospect was not wise. But I know myself. I have a container with old earrings, small toys and ancient make-up: sure enough, there were two Dunlop Lights floating around in there. Not ideal, but it was a much better solution than the small sliver of cardboard that I'd been using to make up the riff. Sometimes it's the small things in life that matter.

Refugee Benefit Compilation

 These events were set up by Liz Tainsh in Edinburgh at the Leith Depot to support refugee charities. You'll see by the track listing that the music was top notch and as well as supporting the charities, as a musician you got to see and hear some really good music. There are three CDs here that showcase a real variety of music and capture the spirit of those nights: well worth a travel to support!

https://limbictv.bandcamp.com/album/the-refugee-benefit-compilation-2016-2019

Three.Word.Slogans.

 Useless.In.Pandemics.

Upping the Engineering Game

Gradually, I'm upping my engineering game. I have worked out exactly how to get a good vocal sound- mostly by just relaxing and letting my ears do the work, but also partly by getting a good singing performance in the first place. I also have a 'trick of my trade' and it's really brilliant doing it. It makes a Logic recording sound just like a Protools one; there is probably a plug-in that does exactly the same thing, but it is fun putting it together in the first place.

There is so much still to learn- changing tempo within a track... that doesn't matter if you're playing without a click just for yourself, but if you're playing to pass a track on to someone to work on then you need to be really accurate with that. And compression, I need to learn more about that as well.

As I start to record the songs, I can hear what needs to be done to them. Songs I like playing or that I'm attached to because I've learned a new 'lick' are sometimes not the best songs. Then there's that odd thing of a song that you wrote quickly in passing suddenly sticking in your mind and you realise it's a good 'un. And sometimes the structure you thought was just right seems to flatten the whole thing out when its recorded, and you have to wield the editing shears. It's so absorbing, like eating the best food in the universe, and still having room for more.

Working with Robert Rotifer has given me a lot of confidence, because he isn't patronising. Nor is Ian Button, who I have done a lot of recording with, and who has mastered things I've recorded at home. Being patronising is a very clever way of putting people in their place and stopping them from making progress; I remember that from art college. 

Last year was a good year creatively, even when everything else was upside down: what a lucky gamble, making our record!

English Nationalism

Any sort of Nationalism. Like putting your hands over your ears and shouting "LA LA LA" as loud as you possibly can. 

Wobbly Timetables

It's an amazing feeling to wake up in the morning and not have to get up. Work begins again on Monday and I'm trying not to think about the awful predicament of the students, all isolating at a time when they should be at their most sociable. And imagine, that strategy of barricading them into their halls of residence in Manchester with the virus. Surely that is akin to a war crime? The worst feeling is powerlessness, hearing them speak in online sessions and not being able to fix the big picture, which is affecting everything they think and do.

This means that whenever possible, I'm embracing laziness. Sometimes I've made a timetable, but it's  quietly vanished, largely because quite a lot of it involves housework. I have managed to start recording, and the wobbly plan today is to do some more of that. There is more 'book' to do, but the sub-editor is on a break and I need to write to her with some questions, and also wait for a secondhand copy of Margot Shetterly's book Hidden Figures to arrive, having given away the first copy to someone and neglected to note down a page reference.

I think Offsprog Two is going to have the piano we had in our big old house. It will be sad in some ways to see it go- it was hugely important when I moved here to have a room big enough to put it in, and I've written some songs on it. But every plan I have to play it is in the future, and has been since I moved here eleven years ago. Maybe when arthritis takes my hands, I'll get another, smaller one, but for now it would be nice to fill the space with the guitars which are languishing upstairs in their cases. I might have a bit of a play on it before it goes, safe to do because my neighbour works for the NHS and normally I try not to make too much noise (the walls here are only one brick thick), but everyone is working flat-out, beyond their speciality, and she is not there much at the moment.

It's quiet out there, so quiet I can hear the birds in the back gardens. Cars have been roaring past the front door in recent weeks, trying to drive away from reality. No matter how enormous your car is and how offensive your driving, you're still in the same boat as the people you normally look down on. You can't drive out of this predicament in your Range Rover, and most people can't get to Antigua like Lady Haw-Haw of the Offensive Tweets. Maybe everyone's just having a lazy morning.

New Year Mudfest

I reckoned that going on the muddiest walk would provide the most solitude on New Year's Day. One of the routes that is most deserted in normal times was teeming with people the other day, all with new dogs. The dog walkers had not learned to be dog owners yet: the retractable leads weren't being retracted, and the weaving dogs wove their leads across the path and made the walk into an interesting obstacle course. Lots of the dogs were unsure yet who their owners were, too: they flirted with potential new walkers and looked hopeful.

So this afternoon, I plodged through fields of mud skimmed with broken, glassy ice, other people's deep boot-impressions filled with yellow muddy water. New streams had sprung up and were chuckling over the torn grass, and older ones that were supposed to obey specially-laid pipes had found their own routes over and around them. The little birds were delighted to welcome a new year: they skidded from tree to tree in little collections of twitterings, busy doing bird-things. Every walk has a different birdscape; the other day, I saw a flock of redwings on the walk through the park, and the next day on a a friend-walk, we heard a woodpecker's rapid chopping at trees up high in the distance.

My walking boots have layer upon layer of mud on them. There is no point in cleaning them; the dry mud falls off on the pavements and is replaced with wet mud as soon as you walk on the muddy grasslands. On these walks, muddy thought falls from my head and is replaced not by more mud, but by clarity. I think this may be called nature therapy: it definitely works as a way of weathering life's storms.

Happy New Year

 Here's a video of our song 'I Fly My Balloon' hot off the press for the New Year. Thanks to Damian Cosmas for making the video!

Pity Me, The Cat Got Me

Our beautiful Siamese cats had unfortunate hunting habits, no matter that they were fed and loved. it's just their way.

I used to bury the carcasses, and occasionally dig them up to see...

I've been doing this embroidery since 2001 and never felt that I had the time to finish it. The skull, I sewed freehand so it is entirely anatomically incorrect, but it is done from life (or perhaps death).

The cats, of course, are also no more. One by one, they became ill. I always felt that they were such shock-absorbers within our family that eventually they wore out. They were so loved, and every so often we talk about them still and the silly things that they did: like one of them coming through the cat flap with a huge clattering because they had caught a mouse: a dead one, complete with the mousetrap that had done the first and lethal catching.

And now, I've got to finish my book. Amazing how far one will go in order to avoid a difficult task!

Robins

A pair of robins, feathers fluffed up against the cold, peered into the bathroom window as I was brushing my teeth at the sink this morning. Birds must find humans an endless source of entertainment!

Oblique Day

Well, I was going to mend the vacuum cleaner, post a present to my friend Laura and do a bit of housework. I tried to go to the Post Office three times but the queues were horrendous- about 15 people every time, and I gave up and decided to go tomorrow instead.

Fixing the vacuum cleaner simply didn't appeal, and instead I wrote to Steve Beresford to ask if he might be willing to put some electronics on one of my new songs. He phoned immediately and we had a great catch up. As always, he was full of information about different things people do with music and sound, and said 'yes', too. I do so miss sharing an office with him!

So I fired up the computer and started recording. I need a new sound and it was great fun playing around, although I realised that I'd recorded the whole thing 10 BPMs too slow. I went to the pond after checking out the Post Office again (still queues), and scared the seagulls away from their Seagull Takeover. There were men fishing at the other pond, illegally, but they were too stupid to bother with.

Back again, I started the track again at 140 BPM. I don't think the sound is really quite as good as the first version, but it's just a demo and I've just bounced it for Steve. I do so love recording, and home is just as much fun as anywhere else.

Meanwhile in real life, the useless Government is becoming yet more useless. I have decided that Eton is filled with Martians who have infiltrated British politics from as far back as anyone can remember, and the current Government is the epitome of this phenomenon. Stay home, stay safe, and eventually they will self-destruct and humans will have to pick up the pieces. 

Cruelty to Christmas Decorations

The dog with the missing ear was all due to have a reprieve. I opened the basket to put it in, and its leg fell off. Suddenly I was struck cruel, and I threw it away.

Frost, Fog, Mud

 

Early on, a thick layer of frost was larded onto the roofs of the sheds in the back gardens I look out on to, and this was the scene as I walked to the station this morning. Every so often, a jogger materialised out of the grey fog, or a couple of early morning dog walkers milled about on the pavement, more lost than their dogs. It was a nightmare getting to Hampstead, and the Heath was teeming with bored people, all signing the mud with their footprints. 

Bathers, so cold that their flesh shone orange through the mist, held back from dipping into the pewter-coloured pond water.

We sat on a bench and ate raspberry cake with cream. The birthday candles wouldn't light and the smell of hand sanitiser was in the air, but it was a memorable birthday, that's for sure.

After the cold won, they turned south and I turned north. I am so glad to be their Mum.

It was a seven mile day, and cold seven miles to (muddy) boot!