Saturday June 10, 2006

Slow start

It's been a very slow day. I've been at home, finishing things I really should have finished before I started this thing. And having Important Conversations with Chris. Actually it's felt like a really productive day, but not in a songwriting way!

I've also discovered that I can't upload photographs directly, I have to email them through to Klixo, so that means you'll have to put up with reading about my adventures before you get to see them. Some of the photos I've been taking are very cool, though - thanks again to Sian for lending me her digicam. Boy oh boy, do I now want one of my own.

So the upshot is I am still on my way to the bach...still haven't opened my Day 2 package. But I'm very excited about it, and I will make sure I come back to this slightly dingey Internet Cafe later today, so I can tell you all about what was in it.

And report on my songwriting progress.

x

Finished my first song.

I remember this now - whenever I write a song, there's this sweet moment when I know I've got it. That the structure of the thing is kinda sewn up, and I just have to fill in the gaps with variations on the melody and more lyrics.

I reached that moment 2 seconds after sitting down at the table today. This is an extraordinary and rare thing for me. I blame the Visual Artist.

Day 2 Care Package:

The first part of it was like a home-made envelope and inside was...an envelope. Well, part of an envelope, ripped, and over the address panel Sian had glued a rectangle of metallic gold paper, dimpled like a golf ball. The postmark's still clear, so the envelope can't be very old. There's glitter on the back. 

Delivered to you by New Zealand Post Auckland Mail Service Centre 6pm 13 Feb 06.

Also in the envelope was a piece of card coloured in dark blues with chalk. Drawn over the chalk at the bottom is a cityscape - again, with that cartoon/nightmare feeling. High above the city buildings there's an aeroplane flying - Sian has cut it's shape out of the card. So when I hold the card in front of the light, the plane blazes. When I hold it in front of the heater, it glows red.

The second part of today's package was the corrugated cardboard rolled into a tube. The glimpse of fabric I could see at the ends turned out to be a woman's scarf - could be from the 60s or 70s judging by the colours. It's teal and navy blue dots, patterned on a grid like maths paper and bordered with white, navy and another wide band of teal. It's that slippery material. 

Wrapped with great care in the scarf was, of all things, a rubber glove. But a very old one, perishing - Sian had pinned it back together in parts where it'd fallen away.

The song I've written sounds to me like a dozen other people, and I'm having the usual anxiety that I'll be sprung. This never happens - it seems my ears are much more sensitive to my own copying crimes than other people's. To me though, there's a screamingly obvious Sharon O'Neill vocal lick, and an Orange Farm riff jumps out to me - I hope if they notice they don't mind.

The song's called 'Island'. So far there's only verses. There's hooks in the verses, but what do I have against choruses? Bridges? Perhaps the lovely Christine White can help me with that - she's coming to visit me soon. She's bringing her guitar.

And she's bringing mussels.

x

H