| Simon's profileSimon's spacePhotosBlogLists |  Tools  Help |
|
March 31 Giving my mouth a restFlew back to England yesterday.
After a few days in France I’ve an ache in the back of my mouth. I realise I’ve been using a muscle there I don’t normally use: my soft pallet. The French speak like that all the time so I guess it doesn’t bother them. But for us English speakers it’s a bit of a shock to the system. Literally.
And no single word exercises the soft pallet any greater than the French word for something we so associate with our cousins over there: Frog. A friend translated it for me a few years ago and I almost jumped out of my chair in disbelief. It is possibly the ugliest word I have ever heard. Dealing in words for a living now I guess it packs a greater punch to my aural senses than it would have done a few years ago. So here it is - the French word for ‘frog’ is...
'Grenouille' - pronounced: ‘ghghghghgh-reueun-ghghghgh-yoo-ghghghgh-weeeee’ where ‘gh’ = use of the soft pallet
Ironic really.
It’s also ironic that saying that word is so similar to the noise poor Poppy was making in the bathroom the day I left for my trip. It looks like the whole family except me are going down with the same bug. Thinking about it I’m not feeling that crash hot. So maybe I’ll go light on the rich food for a while.
Yours giving my mouth a rest for two reasons now,
S. March 30 It's fun to dreamTuesday night, in bed in my gite.
Tonight I had supper in a road side café called ‘Chez Lucky’, deep in the heart of Charente. Normally, a road side café called Chez Lucky would be a disaster area. In fact I would have put the name down to bad spelling (Lucy). But this is France.
The cool thing about France is, well, it’s France. Half way through my foie gras I wondered how many roadside cafés in England would serve such incredible food. In fact, how many roadside cafés ANYWHERE would? And if they did, would they do it with such confidence as Chez Lucky? Tricky.
I’m not saying that everything in this country is cool. Earlier I collected my hire car, an all French model of something Renault. Frankly, it’s the most pig ugly car I’ve ever driven. So I’m not viewing this country though a rosé coloured haze. But the stuff they get right they get so right.
There’s something romatic about the idea of the ‘man’ coming over to set up second home for his family. Reality involves a lot of hard work, battling with the lingo, battling with beaurocracy. I’ve done it before and there’s always a lot to learn. I guess that’s what life’s about. This time I’m not doing it with the backing of a multinational. But the personal rewards are so much greater.
Each time I come over here I’m overwhelmed by the potential. Over the last few years, with Sandra pregnant and the children so small, this project hasn’t been anywhere near the top of our list. But this year it features.
When I arrived at our 800 year old manor house I took a long walk around the grounds. The streams are full. The woods are wild and thriving. The farmer we rent our fields to is looking after our land well. The buildings are solid, despite the big weather here. Getting the main house useable with a cheap gas cooker, a washing machine, simple decoration and making the grounds safe for the children is the initial goal. Just to get us in for the odd week or weekend. There are a couple of wonderful rooms we want to open up and integrate into the main house. We can then start to have guests. Then there’s the barns, the grounds, a pool… the list is long but it’s fun to dream.
Yours feeling sleepy at the thought,
S. March 28 Flying quotesOff to France tomorrow. Looks like I will be on my own.
Here are some of my favourite flying quotes:
Yours wanting to be home before I leave again,
S. March 27 Bilingual blog IIHi everyone. This blog is in French. See below for a translation into English.
*** Il est drôle comment la vie s'avère. Nous avons eu un beau temps avec Bo. Le plan était que nous irions tout à l'aéroport hier avec lui, il monterait dans un avion pour Edimbourg et nous obtiendrions sur un pour Limoges. Au lieu de cela, Moo et moi avons observé notre avion décoller du carpark d'aéroport. Aucun nous ne l'avons pas manqué, nous avons dû remettre nos vols. Poppy avait vomi au cours des derniers jours et nous a pensé qu'il était injuste de faire son voyage. Elle est étée vraiment mal. Ainsi le dernier plan est que nous volons demain (Mardi) et avons juste des vacances raccourcies en France. Mais je sais déjà qu'il est peu susceptible se produire ce. Avoir rebooked nos vols (avec une pénalité £150) et notre location de voiture que j'ai parlée à nos amis français qui ont dite qu'il y a une chance de 90% que la totalité de la France sera arrêtée Mardi avec une grève. Parfait. Tellement peut-être nous y arriverons pour Mercredi.
Sandra a suggéré que que quelque chose sorte de I de a su pourrait elle pourrait penser - que diriez-vous je vais tout seul installer notre maison pour l'été et remettre nos vacances de famille jusque postérieur dedans à l'année. Non vif là-dessus cela, mais pourrait finir vers le haut de s'avérer comme cela.
C'est juste la vie de manière dévoile parfois. Tellement en attendant j'essaye de me faire le sentir par je suis là mais pratiquant la langue. Voici une citation de Steve Martin…
"Alors, ces Français, ils ont un mot différent pour tout"
Bien à vous, je me sens comme j'ai besoin des vacances maintenant,
S.
*** It’s funny how life turns out. We had a great few days with Bo. The plan was that we would all go to the airport yesterday with him, he would get on a plane for Edinburgh and we would get on one for Limoges. Instead, Moo and I watched our plane take off from the airport carpark. No we didn’t miss it, we had to reschedule our flights. Poppy’s been throwing up for the last few days and we thought it was unfair to make her travel. She’s been really poorly.
So the latest plan is that we fly tomorrow (Tuesday) and just have a shortened holiday in France. But I already know this is unlikely to happen. Having rebooked our flights (with a £150 penalty) and our car hire I spoke to our French friends who said there’s a 90% chance that the whole of France will be shut down on Tuesday with a general strike. Nice. So maybe we’ll get there for Wednesday.
Sandra suggested something I kind of knew she might be thinking – how about I go on my own to set up the house for the summer and postpone our family holiday until later in the year. Not keen, but it might end up turning out like that.
I guess this is just the way life unfolds sometimes. So in the meantime I’m trying to make myself feel like I’m there by practicing the lingo. Here’s a quote about that from Steve Martin…
“Boy, those French, they have a different word for everything”
Yours feeling like I really do need a holiday now,
S. March 25 Guest blogger Mr Bo HelmichLadies and gentlemen, please give it up for my cowriter this week...
Mr Bo Helmich
Clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap (whistle) clap clap
***
Guest blogger Bo Helmich, here. Hope you enjoy my random remarks.
This is my first visit to the UK. It’s been such a treat and privilege to stay with the Hawkinses! Of course they live in a great spot with two lovely children and a sky blue fridge named SMEG, but it’s really much more than that. They’ve been so welcoming and have tried (key word) to ease the cultural acclimatization. Finally today, after comically walking out into traffic who-knows-how-many times, I learned to get in on the correct (but not the right) side of the car. Make sense?
Lots of firsts, here. First authentic cream tea. First time my Visa’s been turned down for not having a “chip ‘n’ pin”. A what? I said to the lady. First time I’ve gone 4 days in a civilized nation without seeing a pickup truck.
The nearby Arundel castle was closed this afternoon, alas, but I did find a hundred-year-old copy of E. Nesbit’s marvellous The Railway Children, at the bookshop in the village. She really is an author of the highest quality.
Took a long walk this morning along the seaside and through the neighbourhood. As a beleaguered suburban dweller who frequently finds himself on the ruthless treadmill of D-I-Y home-improvement, I could not help but note that fencing is very big over here. O, the manifold varieties of English fencing! Much is brick, much is wood lapped in one way or another, and some is evidently cobbled together from found materials in an ingenious and local design. Also, mortared rock walls seem to be everywhere. Having contemplated this style for my own garden – and deciding against it out of fear and intimidation at the time, the work, the expertise it apparently requires – I could not help but be impressed. You look at it and think: How long did that take?
Another lovely thing is the way the English name their homes. Many house names I saw seemed to be chiefly descriptive and therefore prosaic: Apple Trees, Whitewalls. Then there were 1001 variations on “Cottage by the Sea”. Rarer, but more delightful, are the whimsical names of obscure origin, such as “Yellowhammers.” But more intriguing still are the names whose etymology has been obscured. “Sandy Hardd,” for example. As I recall from a college course on Arthurian mythology, “dd” in Welsh (and therefore, perhaps, in Middle English?) was pronounced as a “th”; thus, the name might in truth be Sandy Harth, thus to Sandy Hearth, meaning something like “Comfy Fireside by the Beach”. Which, no doubt, it was and is.
Sandra and Simon and I really have had no end of amusement at the twists and turns of the language we share. Icky things are “manky”. An umbrella is a “brollie”. A check is a “bill” and not a “chit” as I thought it would be over here. “Bits and bobs” are everywhere to be worked on, worked out, picked up, or otherwise dealt with.
Somehow we got onto the fact that a guitar pick is officially a “plectrum”. Had I heard this word? Sandra wanted to know. Well, yes, but never, ever, have I heard the word used in America. With mirth I imagined Simon going into a music store in Nashville and saying in his English accent, “Pardon me, but do you have any plectra?” Try that, Simon, and report back to us.
This morning I learned that the English do not “take the cake”, but rather the biscuit. Of course a biscuit is not really a biscuit, but a cookie. I think I’ll take the cake, thank you (at least a cake is a cake). In the window of a real estate office in the neighbouring village, I noticed that one cottage for sale “needs modernisation”, and, more ominously, has “no chain”. What chain, exactly, is it missing? Did I really want to know? As a last thought on this topic, let the record show that Sandra’s pronunciation is very good when she makes the effort to speak without an English accent. Simon, on the other hand, has had to upbraid himself for talking like an American who is trying (and not succeeding very well) at talking like an Englishman. That’s what he gets for listening to me talk all day!
On the music front we have written 2 pretty decent songs from scratch, plus finished up a third and started work on another. So that’s been encouraging. Another highlight was seeing Blake’s cottage in Felpham. I’ve been a big fan of his since college. Poor sweet Poppy has been ill today with some kind of stomach flu. I helped her put a star sticker in her CBeebies activity book because she is a star and, as we would say in America, a real trooper.
It came out earlier that tonight we may be having a “takeaway” for dinner. Momentarily this confused me. In the degraded parlance of the American corporation, a “takeaway” is (I think) shorthand for a lesson you can go apply to your situation. I like those kinds of insights, just not for dinner. Thankfully, all it means in this context is that we’ll get some food to go.
Well, that’s enough. I’m off tomorrow to Edinburgh and your usual, excellent host returns! Thanks Simon & Sandra!
*** March 24 Getting your money's worthHad a late start to the writing today (10.00). Well, late for me… I normally like to get up and out the house by 7.30. But yesterday was busy – Bo’s flight arrived on schedule (amazingly) at 10.00am and we spent the day in London sight seeing. We did Westminster Abbey (we arrived in time to have communion in a tiny chapel at the heart of the Abbey), the London Eye (big Ferris wheel) and Covent Garden. It was a fun day and we got home in time for one of my favourite dinners the nanny cooks for us – Nigella’s Chilli.
Today we wrote at the studio. I’m a great believer in getting the creative vibe right so I gave Bo the choice of where we wrote. He chose the kitchen which was an all time first for me (although it's often where lines pop into my head while I fix up snacks or get coffee). After finishing off a song we started at Estes last year we moved to my choice of venue – the studio itself – and started and finished a completely new song. Then we started another which we left to process in our creative subconsciousness overnight.
Tonight we went round to Neil’s studio (one of my few cowriters who lives within driving distance from me) and had a cool evening talking about songs, crafting, recording, family and other stuff. Neil played me a demo he’d done of a worship song that we wrote together a couple of weeks ago and it’s come out really well. Nice work Neil.
Tomorrow Bo and I are writing most of the day (I want him to feel like he’s got his money’s worth), having lunch at a typical English pub (the Fox, where William Blake used to frequent) and in the evening we’ll probably relax over a movie because I’m babysitting the children while Sandra’s off to a meal with her work chums.
It’s great to have my American friends over – it’s a chance for the family to meet the people I talk about when I get back from a trip. And it’s great for my cowriters to see who/where we are and how we do things here. We’ve a few more friends coming over this year and we are all really looking forward to having them all come.
Better get to bed or my alpha-theta waves might make me nod off tomorrow.
Yours thinking I ought to start thinking about our holiday starting on Sunday,
S.
March 21 Writing without jetlag5.14pm Tuesday and I don’t want to go home in case the weird piano tuner is still there. My theory is this:
He was supposed to arrive at 2.00 o’clock
which means he didn’t really arrive until 2.30 which means he didn’t start tuning until 3.00 which means he didn’t find out how big a job it is until 3.30 which means he won’t finish until 5.30 Realistic? Let’s hope so.
Spent yesterday tracking out a cool song Sue and I wrote last week. Our second virtual cowrite. I road tested some new plugins in the process and I must admit they make the world of difference. Trouble is every $1k set of emulation plugins make the world of difference. I’ve got so many emulation plugins it might have been cheaper to go for the original installation. As a result of the stuff I’ve bought over the last few months (especially the new monitors) another studio reorganisation is on the horizon… I’m building a new bass trap for a vocal booth and it’s too big for the space available on the first floor. So my seating area is going to be where the new control desk will go and the current studio area will become an audio area with room for the grand piano, a guitar area and the new vocal booth. Itching to get stuck into it.
Today I hooked up with another of my cowriters, Gina Boe, on iSight for the first time. She’s in Nebraska, somewhere in the middle of the US according to Google Earth. They had 12 inches of snow overnight. How wonderful. It's so cool - just like being in the same room for a cowrite. Only I’m not jetlagged. I know we are going to write some very special songs together. We bounced around a couple of ideas we're working on and made a date to move them forward when I get back from France. I wasn't as prepared as I normally am, maybe because until the technology works it still seems too good to be true.
Ten minutes before we got started I suddenly realised what a state I looked. So I had a quick shave and a shower before we went on air. It’s getting to the stage now that Sandra's able to tell when I’ve had a virtual cowrite – I come home looking groomed. I hadn’t realised what a smelly creative type I've become. But it's true.
Talking of jetlag – tomorrow another cowriter, Bo Helmich arrives at Gatwick and is coming to stay for a few days. I had the privilege of staying with him and his beautiful family in Glenwood Springs, Colorado (near Aspen) last summer. We wrote three songs in three days and still had lots of play time. We're all looking forward to having him with us. I might even ask him to say a few words here sometime.
One thing I really hadn't appreciated before I started cowriting is the friendships that come with it. I really look forward to catching up with all my cowriters when we get together. I remember at WAJ a few years ago people talking about the importance of cowriting and looking around thinking "how on earth can I make myself vulnerable enough to write anything with anyone, ever?". My first ever cowrite was with Bo that very same weekend.
Yours thinking we might just find another song like ‘Indelible’ over the next few days,
S. March 20 Piano partyToday we brought the piano in from the garage. I say we. I really mean I. I wouldn’t ask Sandra help because it’s just too heavy. And Poppy and Moo, well, just in the way.
About half way through the operation Sandra pointed out that it might have been worth thinking about how to get it in the house before I arrived with it at the front doorstep. I replied with an expressionless face that told her that although she had a valid point it wasn’t the kind of contribution I was looking for just at that moment.
I was actually wondering if I was totally crazy to think that I could carry it in on my own. People promenading along the sea front would have seen this sad figure pacing up and down looking at the problem from every direction. If it were a choice between piano and the storm-proofing around our front door, I’m afraid the piano comes further up Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs. Less essential.
There was even one man who shouted from the sea front,
“Hey, do you want some help with that?”
I replied “Yes please, that would be fantastic!” I thought it might have been like one of those angel stories you hear about and waited for him to come bounding up from the beach like he'd just been baptized.
But he carried on walking along the beach. Maybe it was some kind of joke? That one went over my head at the time. Maybe the lady with him talked him out of it? Women are much more practical when it comes to moving pianos it seems.
Anyway, fortunately the weather was perfect for piano moving so I had plenty of time to get my head round the problem. Sure enough I heaved it over the threshold without damaging anything (including my back). Now the piano is sitting in our hall and it’s wonderful to have it back home. I really did feel like having a piano party.
The response was satisfying – the minute I got the piano to its final resting place Poppy and Moo started to pound its keys with their little fingers. As I sat in the drawing room listening over a cup of coffee I remembered how my parents say they missed hearing me play when I left home for university. I started to count the years we'd have the privilage and realised the number was far too small. So far both little ones head for the piano over their play room. Long may it continue.
Tuesday the piano tuner comes. Thankfully I’ll be at the studio, avoiding that haunting DONG DONG DONG. I hope it doesn’t drive the nanny mad. Or wake Moo from his afternoon snooze.
Yours promising I’ll stop twittering on about this piano now,
S.
PS Do you think I should stain the piano stool? March 16 Life lesson #1'Doing a great job always takes much longer than you’d ever imagine'
Last night I finished overhauling my childhood piano. My old friend is now looking in great shape. It’s still in the garage because the smell of wax needs to die down a little before we move it into the house. But we’re both smiling again.
I looked into giving the job to a piano specialist but thought, after all these years of neglect, I owe it some one on one time. So that’s what I gave it. In fact I’ve been giving it my attention for quite a few evenings now. And it’s surprising how a little bit of attention goes a long way.
Actually, I thought I’d finished a few nights ago but in the morning when Sandra saw it, she pointed out that it was… well… too ginger. She was right. So I re-waxed it a darker brown and this morning Sandra said she thought it looks great.
But a few nights ago I was out there in the dark and dusty cold night air, with face mask, goggles and gloves sanding down yet another level of 1930’s varnish and it reminded me of something I think I already knew: doing a great job always takes much longer than you’d ever imagine. Whether it’s a high school exam, a detailed analysis of a company, a song about God or doing up an old piano – these things just take a lot of time.
For me, the trick is often not whether I can do it, but sticking with it until I know I’ve given it my absolute best.
Yours feeling like my hands are still shaking from the electric sander,
S. March 14 Re-employable?It’s great that Sandra’s back to work. She’s getting so much out of it. It means a lot to her and to me that she’s able to work at something she feels passionately about. I’m grateful that I have a chance to feel that for myself.
But lately, when we sit down for a glass of wine at the end of the day (well, I’m on juice) and we swap stories from our respective days I’ve been feeling uneasy. And I think I’ve just figured out why: the more she tells me about her office the more I feel unemployable. Not that I wouldn’t make myself fit in if I had to. Of course, if it ever became the right thing for me to go back to the City I would totally put on my suit and play the corporate game. But it would be harder to heave myself out of bed for it today than it was when I first put on a suit just out of university.
After being in charge of my own Todo list for a while I think I’ve got used to the taste of freedom. There’re so many things about this life I would miss… getting to know the other side of my brain, writing what inspires rather than what pays, learning a craft that continues to surprise in its depth and breadth, hanging with people because I just enjoy being with them, deciding my day and if I don’t get it done it’s probably my fault, having great coffee in the studio kitchen, using computers to make music and video conference rather than feeding a creaking corporate system, claiming my car as well as the stuff that make the ideas in my head come to life as a taxable expenses.
I sometimes think if I were re-employed it would be like driving an RV after a Porsche 911. Or like going back to school after a long glorious summer holiday. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I think. But I used to get to Tuesday and wish it was Wednesday. Now I wish Tuesday was Monday. Kinda like Groundhog Day -1. As long as it didn’t go back too far.
Yours wondering if I'm weird to be here in my writing room at 23.21 while the rest of the family are at home in bed asleep?
S.
P.S. here's a couple of pics I took this morning as Sa and I left the children with the nanny March 13 Almost in heavenOn Friday I did something uncharacteristically impulsive… I could see that man-flu was going to turn me into a creative vegetable – I hate that – just moping around picking at ideas, not having the energy or inspiration to work them properly. And I don’t even have a workable bed at the studio now - I removed the one in my writing room because, well, it just looked weird in video cowrites. So I went to London.
There’s an exhibition put on every year called ‘Sounds Expo’ which is the biggest UK event for studio-heads. I’ve wanted to go each year but for one reason or another I never made it. So when Moo handed a flyer about it in exchange for his morning bottle (he was just playing with it) I thought well, why not. The family just happened to be going out in time for me to catch the 8.59 train to Victoria and by 11.00 I was there at the entrance to Olympia 2 armed with a Starbucks ready to do battle.
It was, as expected, massive. It was also, surprisingly, the UK’s largest gathering of people with bad breath and mullets. Somehow studios+bad breath+mullets all go hand in hand over here. But despite the 80’s look about the place and the lack of oral hygiene, I was (I reluctantly admit) almost in heaven. There were over 150 stands set up by studio related manufacturers – people who make studio gear (like Fostex, Tascam), keyboard manufacturers (Yamaha, Roland), software designers (Apple, Steinberg, Digidesign) to retailers, PA manufacturers and trade magazines. A number of manufacturers launched new products at the show.
But for me the best thing about it were the seminars put on by industry gurus about stuff I do most days, like mastering, mixing, recording vocals or guitars, and other studio-craft. And for those tech-heads out there, yes I did come home with two new boxes.
So that was Friday. Getting home late with a cold when I should have been in bed meant I paid for it a little on Saturday. And I missed bath time with the children. But I can’t wait to get to the studio to try out the new techniques and gadgets I brought home with me.
Yours thinking I must be creative if I expect to have a bed at work,
S. March 10 Give it up for HawkinsI decided to give up chocolate, cheese, ice cream and alcohol for Lent. So much for my 'A' diet. Been at it a week.
On the whole I’m in good shape, except for a mild man-flu thing I picked up from Moo. I’ve already caught myself trying to wriggle out of it on the grounds that where Jesus was for 40 days they didn’t have man-flu. But I nipped that in the bud.
My biggest worry is what will happen when we go to France on hols in a couple of weeks. Outside these four banned substances there is very little I would want to eat or drink over there. Except maybe the odd coffee and croissant.
I’ve learnt from bitter experience, especially in the more rural areas where things are a little more wild (or savage as our French friend calls it), you veer off the well trodden gastronomic path at your peril. They use every bit of every animal – you can just imagine…
So for me it’s like going to Marble Slab and not having a big dipper with sweet cream, praline and dark mocha. Maybe I could gnaw on a waffle or dive into the rainbow bits. Somehow that doesn’t work for me.
We are looking to stock up our wine cellars over there. So does wine tasting count as drinking if I spit out? And what about the incredible cheeses - brie, camembert and wonderful local cheeses from the region of our French house (Charentes)? What about pain au chocolates for breakfast? This will be interesting.
Yours thinking that sometimes I make life more difficult than it really needs to be,
S. March 09 Passing on the loveWoke up early this morning, fired up the laptop (as one does) and chatted with Ross for a while. He was on great form. But he mentioned an amazing talk Lloyd gave at Fellowhship on Sunday so I watched the video. Never heard the topic of God’s will presented so well. If you’re interested here’s the link:
The notes and other messages are here:
Just love FBC.
Oh, I got a reply from the very talented Christopher Williams (remember I emailed him after seeing him perform in Nashville with a weird bass drum thing?). Here’s his email:
***
hey there. thanks for the email and for coming to the show on sunday night. the stompboard that i was using is made by a company called enroute music and if you google porchboard bass you should be able to find it. be sure to tell them that you found it through me, christopher williams, and that i passed on the love to you :-) thanks again...
cw *** Would be cool if it works on 240v. I'll email them.
Yours wondering what passing on the love really means,
S. March 05 Obsessive behaviour6.00 Sunday morning. The children are both W I D E awake and playing in their bedrooms at either end of the house. Maybe it’s the lighter mornings?
Moo is screaming “BABA” and “DADA” from his cot. They are his phrases of the moment. Dada means everything from ‘look over there’ to ‘hey, haven’t I done well’. It may even refer to me sometimes. Don’t know what Baba means. Poppy probably knows.
Poppy is having a very serious conversation with Catty, Rabbit and Moose about what to wear this to a birthday party this afternoon. Moose is already dressed up in clothes Moo grew out of a year ago… a nice red and green striped tank top and a pair of brown corduroy trousers.
Sandra woke up to Poppy leaving the bathroom light on and the fan whirring. She’s just got herself a nice cup of tea and is reading a book about criminal law in bed.
I woke up to a new worship song being sung by one of my childhood girlfriends in a dream. I just had to sing into my cell phone before it disappeared.
Think we might all need a snooze at lunchtime.
Yours thinking I’m getting unhealthily obsessive about capturing new song ideas,
S.
March 03 Strechy time11.00pm Friday evening. Sa’s out with her local girlie friends so I’m baby sitting for us. Not a squeak from the children. Nice. She kindly left me a wonderful lasagne. Sa cooks the most wonderful things and knows her lasagne is one of my favourites. Actually, I probably have about a dozen favourites, including her wonderful Moroccan lamb with Raz-El-Hamut.
Looks like jet lag gave up the fight on the way over. Glad to see it giving up so easily. I’ve had very little trouble this time. Probably the best yet. Let’s hope that it’s more down to scientific method than it just being kind to me this one trip.
This week I’ve had a couple of days in the studio, a couple of days writing and a day up in the City on business. The studio work was partly:
a) Drafting a demo of a song Sue and I finished off by video on Monday (I love the way it’s turning out) and Learning how to track great vocals is one of those journeys that started while I was at school with my first spring reverb unit. It remains one of my obsessions. I’ve done courses, bought books, I’ve four different pitch correction plugins, other plugins that can make me sound like anything from a mouse to an 85 year old woman, I’ve hardware that produces harmonies from barber’s shop, Carpenters to Gregorian chants, 50 different reverbs, 75 different echoes and all the compressors, limiters and EQ that money can buy. Some are very impressive. But I’m still not happy with my own vocal. Well, actually, I’m a little happier today than I was before Nashville, thanks to Barry. But I’ve got a feeling that I will never be totally happy with it. Not ever. Maybe everyone’s a little like that. Although I can’t imagine Russell Watson saying that somehow.
Seems funny that a week ago I was on my way home. Feels like about a month ago. You know, there’s something funny about Nashville time - it’s not linear. It’s like the whole place exists in “stretchy time” – where references like ‘11.00pm’ are just name tags that can be attached to any place in the stretchy time continuum. And the really weird thing is this: things seem to work better in stretchy time. Things that you think will definitely happen don’t, but in that ‘time-stretch’ something else totally unplanned comes along to make much better sense of your day (however long that is in stretchy time). Maybe it’s my right brain not being able to process time in the same way as I’m used to? Hey, maybe heaven is a little like that? Maybe it’s a Bible belt thing? Who knows?
Yours thinking how I could use a little of that stretchy time over here as well,
S. March 02 Dove Award SeasonDove award season is here again… don’t remember getting those ‘For Your Consideration’ emails before. It reminds me of that quote… “I would kill to win a Nobel Peace Price”.
Happy voting,
S. |
|
|
