And The Rains Came
It feels like winter. The cold and the dreary and the wind, the quiet and the brown, the land is preparing itself and it’s coming early. The tops of the yellowing trees are twisting above our sheltered clearing. The chickens and Turkey wander the forest and the grass puffed and drenched by the constant mist off the ocean. It feels early for this and my body feels like there will be a warming yet. I’m not ready for the long cold and I don’t think that the land is quite, either.
I find the my songs are getting more rural. I suppose it comes from writing looking out the window at this desk, staring out as the seasons creep in and over our grasses. I have always searched for a more solid base for the lyrics, fighting my early fascination with letting myself get a little “up in the clouds,” something ungrounded and more cerebral. A response to being young, I suppose. Searching for experience but unable to ground it in anything other than myself and my own mental responses to it. The cities tended to creep in with intersections, street names, neon and yellowed street lamps, late trains and blue light buses, working grinds and beers and diners. Now, with no light save for those in the windows of the croft and the sun and the moon, with the browning grasses, the yellowing trees, the stripping winds, the seasons are a little more immediate. More solid.
And should I ever manage to finish recording the new tunes, that will, I hope, be plainly heard.
I am playing with different recording techniques. I would like to record standing up, but it makes my one stereo mic recording impractical (I move too much). As does the noise of the chickens and such that likes to filter in. I may record with my live rig, the mic up against the amps, but my low E string is a little hotter and prone to over-resonances that way, so I don’t know how well that would work. I could go direct in with the pickup, but I would miss the woody-ness of the acoustic. I’ll keep playing around and hopefully find something soon…
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