When I moved into my current abode I was in the middle of a phase where I was obsessed by bells. My second album had not long been finished and released, and it contained many metallic noises. Vibraphone, dulcitone, glockenspiel, hand bells and the like. Bells are just the sounds of metal aren’t they. My second album in entitled “Wrought Iron”. I was into metal noises at the time. I’ve moved on to drones and pitch shifting now.
The place where I live is pretty nice, if a little damp. My kitchen and my bathroom are without heating, which makes for interesting winters. I do believe that it’s not right to expect to be constantly warm even in January and I practice what I preach. This has lead to me to a situation where I never play my guitar in the winter months. My hands get too cold. It takes them about a month of springtime to warm to guitar playing temperature. It’s ok though because winter gives room for me to play piano. My hands don’t need to be as warm to play piano.
As for the harp, well that is another story. It seems that I can only play that instrument with my window wide open. I like the idea that there might be some handsom prince riding past on a horse, and the harp might drift into his ears and he might be unable to resist following the sound until he sees me… a round woman from Wigan. He might be momentarily disappointed but I’ll promise to play wonderful music to him for the rest of his life and he will agree to marry me and all my problems would be solved and I’d never have to use my brain again. (N.B this isn’t true at all, but I do play my harp with the window open sometimes)
Anyhow, it is the view out of my window that is the best bit about where I live. When I found this adobe I was INCREDIBLY worried that it is north facing. South facing abodes offer more vitamin D, you see. The view from the window makes up for the lack of direct sunlight. It looks out over a large churchyard, framed by three trees that mark out the seasons with their green leafy, red leafy and completely leafless dances.
The first Sunday I woke here, I was woken up by the sound of bells ringing. I have been woken up by the same sound every Sunday since. Not one bell, but many different tones. To this day I haven’t worked out if they’re real or recorded. I’ve investigated length by traipsing around the churchyard to see if I can find the source of the noise. I’ve never had the nerve to ask the priest because he is catholic and I fear he might not appreciate my bell fascination, but merely tell me that I’m destined for hell.
I might say…
“Well well well well well
Mr priest. I want to enquire about that bell.
I might be going straight to hell
but I wanna know about that bell.
It wakes me every Sunday, oh priest will you please tell,
I don’t care about my afterlife I wanna know about that bell”
It is driving me mad. For sure, I am gonna get my microphone out of that window when it gets a bit warmer and record the thing.
I love where I live. I’m recording my third album here, in the main. I don’t feel at home anywhere else, literally. I can spend hours and hours with my headphones on, might as well be on another planet. If the church outside my window was to explode or set on fire, I wouldn’t notice if I was in the middle of recording some idea or other. I hope that doesn’t happen. I’m about as far away from being a Christian as a person could be, but I do love looking out upon that churchyard.
No comments:
Post a Comment