The recording was made a little more… stressful by the fact that I had to move from my shack to a new house. But it was also made more joyful, because I found the perfect house the week before I started recording. So change comes in its absolute suit, raking away all that was in one swoop. It has often been that way for me, from those days as a baby when we would suddenly move away to somewhere new, to the accident, and the subsequent moving, and the lovers and events that seemed to always wipe the slate clean when they came, and when they left.
I think some of these thought have drifted into the text of this work, one in particular comes to mind that was, is an improvisation I made this fall, oddly inspired by girl groups of the 60s and British blues, through my own unique, uh scope, I guess, came sounded like I don’t know what. But I like it. Right now it’s called “You Better Be Careful.” Yayuh.
Yesterday the last of our visitors came, a lovely delicate lady named Rachael who knew all my references, and my work, and it was really a delight to speak with someone (else) I had inspired. I mean, I feel okay to accept the energy of having inspired, taught, helped, guided, mapped, tickled, mused. Entertained even, and all that it might mean. Whatever the source of our jesters and our troubadours, they are as important to use as our millers and tinkers. And it’s funny, when I say troubadours I know exactly who they are and the line of kinds of people I descend from. They were always travelers, outsiders, always on tour, doing shows because they loved to, and because it was a better life, for them, than staying at home. So I guess we go on tour in that same tradition. I mean, it could just as easily be that people travel to the town where the musician is to hear their work. Like we do with festivals, lots of exchange of culture, on a level that governments cannot monitor. Joyful and sometimes life changing. Like…Woodstock.
The visitors, one man and three women, brought so much kindness and love with them that I am steady on my feet now. The last one was so… accomplished in her comprehension of the… details of my work and references that I began to… wonder what she was thinking about what she heard. That is the one thing that I do not want to have happen, and that can certainly happen if anyone is in the room that is not working at a task. Even the producer, when he says “that sound great” alters what I am doing. I’ve tried to mention to him please don’t tell me it sounds great but he doesn’t seem to hear. I know he is thinking “I want her to go down this path she’s on” but I WILL go down that path. I can FEEL that its a good path. But once it is made aware of the listener, it’s like watching yourself in the mirror. “I feel pretty, hmm, let’s go see if I am.” Better just to feel pretty. But I am weathering these small details, saying to myself “just do the job girl.”
The guest knew my Blue Nile and Cocteau Twin references, she understood the bass and the sound of the high hat and in fact when we played “Tinsel Town in the Rain.” She stood at the same time as I and started playing the lick.
It was kinda like seeing me. I only mention her more than the others today because there was also something fragile in her at first, she was almost overwhelmed meeting me, and I know it took a lot of courage for her to fullfill her wish to come and say hello. So, good job R, and I hope you make it to one of those 45 parties!
Our first guest, Joe S from Indiana, he has posted, on Facebook, some of his photographs of the session he sat in on. The women the day before were both very lovely and accomplished women, and I had asked for them to come on the same day, and they did. That helped me because having guests every day is distracting, I cannot help but feel like I must spend some time with them. I was imagining they could just see me walk by like Van Morrison or something, going from here to there, and I would not feel obliged to commune. But I know in my heart I have as much to gain from these interactions as anyone, and you know, the ‘don’t touch me’ thing never took me anywhere I wanted to go. On the other hand, I am unprotect in so many ways. On the other foot, then I so far attract folks who sense these and are very, very, kind.
Yesterday we mostly finished the hard parts of a complex song called “Feet on the Ground.” One thing I must say for John Porter, one of the many, is that just when I think it’s not gonna happen, he brings it home. Maybe he feels the same way. I was able to get the vocal I wanted late in the day. I do notice that I have become shy of my voice, and hopefully I’ll get the sound perfect in those headphones right about the time we are set to quit working.
The tracks are recorded now. Except for my tiny ballad “Juliette,” which I believe I have the French/English lyric finished, and it is of course for and about my dog. But hopefully when it’s done it will be able to be about anyone. Anything. Just a black and white picture with shades of eggplant and terrible beautiful wind. I sing these things at night and then hope in the morning I remember.
The new house is wonderful, I am so grateful to the universe for pushing me out and into a home of my own. I hope I get to stay awhile. I really like the light.