Monday 15 June 2009
I've watched Chick's Day again this evening, before I send the tapes back to the Scottish Screen Archive. I felt a little sad looking at Chick's face, before everything goes wrong. I've thought about him a lot this past month, thought about how he was feeling, thought about the panic rising as things fall apart for him.
We played our score at the GFT last night. Maybe it was being in the cinema, but even when it was happening it felt like a dream. There was thunder outside as we played. The heavy curtains and the reds were very David Lynch! We were running a little tight; my intro tape was cut. We managed to fit in Mr Sandman by The Chordettes though, and I've only just picked up the pertinence of that.
I love that we worked so hard on the score, but that now it only exists in the memory of the people who were there. There is something really pure about that. We'll go back to it, I'm sure - but for now it's perfect where it is.
I got home about midnight, had a shower, and sat up for a bit with my ears ringing. I remember when we played at The Panopticon in 2005, I was pleased with myself for getting home in time for Match of the Day. I had a slice of malt loaf and a cup of tea to celebrate. I know it doesn't sound much, but that was life lived to the fullest.
Even through ringing ears, those moments of calmness are too precious for words.
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Tuesday 19 May 2009
We saw Fraser play with the Just Joans at St Bernadette's in Motherwell on Friday night. Fraser drove us across. It was lashing. There had been an accident on the road; we turned on the radio for news. The sky looked scratched and scored, something to touch, I'd never noticed all the pylons before.
Katie, who sings in the Just Joans, sent me a card once, a painting of what she'd see on the train from Motherwell to Glasgow when she came to the Pop League. The card was scored too, dark, the windows of houses blazing out. It was really beautiful, and I suddenly felt what it meant.
The show was very good.
It's clearing up now, I can see across to Eaglesham Moor. This route goes right over the roof of my brother's house. I checked it on the A-Z - it's absolutely due south, an arrow between the Finneston Crane and the Squinty Bridge. It was my nephew's third birthday today and he'll be sleeping now, directly beneath this view.
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Tuesday 5 May 2009
Fraser came over this morning with DVDs of Chick's Day. I made coffee and we ate almond cake. We understood that we wouldn't discuss Tony Manero, which we'd gone to see at the pictures on Sunday on the basis of an misleadingly upbeat synopsis. My Butterkist was barely touched.
Maya came across in the afternoon and we were formalising our schedule for Chick's Day practices, and started to work. I'd done my preparation, digging out my tape recorder. I've been working on an old song called Loobiecore - we firmed up the cello line, and then we finalised the line on another new song. It sounds like Midnight Cowboy to me.
We then worked on some little riffs, and these were the best... the riffs will be the building blocks, and Maya's cello will be the expression. I listened back to the tape afterwards... my initial riff was a little like Dreams Never End by New Order, crabbed, but Maya's lines are colour everywhere, utterly transforming.
It's been raining for days...
We walked to the subway afterwards, and in Somerfield I bumped into a boy called Bruno three times who had been sent by his mother to get apple pie. He wasn't going to find it in the toiletries aisle! I heard his mother shouting after him.
If I listen to the tape of the cello on high speed the hiss disappears. The melodies are very keen. I hear the little recorder rocking as I press "record". You know, really, I wonder if it ever sound as good as it does on that tape, as my guitar doggedly, plainly, lands on a G from an E minor and the cello runs away from the melody I had, beautifully high above it, unexpected, nothing I would have thought of. The change is surprising. Today is the day that happened. By chance, I'll mark it.
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