Singing

I'm learning 12 newly commissioned Benjamin Britten inspired songs for kids, for recordings. I'm learning new songs for a choir I'm in and I'm starting to write new songs for our Edinburgh show. Singing is my favourite thing. I like the place I travel to whilst singing. I like the imagination of it. The emotion, the humour, the intangible wealth of wonder, the release.... I salute the noise, the listening, the moving of air on ear drum.

Motor Cortex

The motor cortex of the brain, receiving new learnt behavior. Music practice. Small practice Let it go in slow, but permanently. Slow practice. Feel fingers on string, one chord 40 times. Again 40 times later that day. Next day a different chord. Learn a song. A tiny bit. Next day a different bit. Daily slow practice. Metronome. Slow. Notice everything. Increase by one beat per minute. Slow practice, make it stay.

Got it!

Another leap lept. We have some funding. Half way there. We will go to Edinburgh!

No microphone for the listeners

The Words and Women gig was a bit of a personal triumph for me. A hurdle jumped. The room was packed but I managed to be heard... Whilst waiting to sing I was trying to assess whether I would be audible. 80 people? Everyone in swathes of fabric, absorbing the sound. A plan, sing one song and ask if I can be heard... easy! Then my heart races. I demand it to stop..... nope. Heart races, breathing gets shallow... grrr, stop it! The great advantage of no microphone to hold, is that no one can see the mic shaking in my shaking hand. I sing very quietly as well as belting it out briefly. I have time to think. Shaking with nerves on the first song, creates a lovely tremolo effect. Hmm, always struggled with a tremolo in the past! By the second song , I was calmer..time to think. It was playful. Trying not to move around to much, it's a distraction. By the third song, I lose focus slightly, fluff some words, I still had time to think, corrected myself, recovered. Not quite as dynamic in the last song, but wow to be heard by a room-full of listeners, with no mic, it's possible and a delight! Thank you Words and Women.

blurring fact and fiction

So I put myself in the zone for creating/making/writing, to increase input of images, words and sounds. First off to listen to tracks by The Fall because all my co-music-makers have been heavily influence by the band and they kind of are there in my consciousness, but I never knew what they were. so I listen and it's all so familiar, jaunty, off-kilter, repartition, quirky, weird... all the words that have been thrown our way in reviews.. I did sing at a Fall album night, Damo Suzuki, I have a connection with that song, not out of choice, but because I was asked to sing it. That feels a bit lazy, but it's true. The line ' what's that in your paper bag' is great to sing and I will try and repeat the experience of such a line. So I look-listen, easier to find songs on Youtube...grrr... ahhh the half listen... grrr... anyhow, in my half listen, I can see the ladies that Mark E Smith chooses to play tortuous repetitive guitar lines for him. They look really cool, I want to play guitar for all the wrong reasons after watching them. Then I listen to the Yeah yeah Yeahs and I still have a gut reaction of excitement and wonder and pure joy at their melodic fuzz growling guitars... mmmm Y Control pushes my buttons. Then in between sounds I finish reading a strange book leant to me called 'Train Dreams' by Denis Johnson. I wont explain it because it sounds crap in literal description, other-worldly, folks living amongst loneliness, their loud inner voice and some dream-like visions which have a larger impact than reality. Also reading Of Walking In Ice by Werner Herzog, he is a film maker of great note and the book is like a rush of images, again of loneliness, but this time walking across Germany and France, a pilgrimage to a dying friend, he thinks if he walks to see her, it will prolong her life, he writes mostly about the rain and the agony of his feet. He again slips into dream-like states where reality and fact blur. Then I walk into town to get some air: to Waterstones, find Simon Armitage on the shelf.. and read his poems.. I realise that my b-line for inspiration, Mark E Smith and Simon Armitage, both have comforting northern accents but very dark thoughts. I laugh and shudder at Armitage and head back home. I bump into an old friend, an archiologist we call Ghost, we talk about Vikings, he tells me that viking is a verb, and how viking bodies were in fertiliser sacks on the top floor of 'The Garage' in Norwich, not any more though. Back at home, I read more book, then watch the start of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. The doctor who first interviews Jack Nicholson, is very good, a very good doctor, then it goes bad. The music is key. I have thoughts of the Small Animal Hospital in Edinburgh and I think about routines, procedures, sterile environments, smells, fear. I was reflecting on my inputs of the day and trying to talk to a friend about a story and I found I was confused by what was real and what was fiction. Perfect.