Sifting The Soul From The Chaos...

You may recall seeing a rather excited post from me here a couple of weeks ago. It was written - and posted - on a Saturday morning, hours before a friend of mine was due to come over for the afternoon. An afternoon we had planned to spend recording, building, racketeering, deconstructing, constructing, re-constructing, creating, making. Great things.

Well, sadly - and as a few of you now know - that's not quite what the universe had in store for us that afternoon.

We got off to a furious n' glorious start. Everything we did, every idea we had, seemed inspired. And maybe it was. We were fuelled and inspired. We burned bright that afternoon.

But you know what they say about the candle that burns twice as bright...

...due to (sadly avoidable and unnecessarily) unforeseen circumstances, the afternoon ground to a heartbreaking halt after only a few hours.

I was absolutely gutted. And angry. And worried. And truly exhausted. I had tried to keep up, but I couldn't.

In fact, I was (and am still) so upset by how the afternoon was stolen from us, that it wasn't until earlier this evening that I was able to bring myself to have a brief, awe-struck, melancholic listen to what we recorded that afternoon. It's an almighty mess. A cacophony of lunacy. A bag of blagged ideas. But there are some gorgeous moments, lines and riffs too. It'll take more than a few upsetting hours to trawl through the wreckage, but I will. And soon. But slowly, for these things are riddled with memories and moments.

And memories and moments are where the beautiful poisons lie...

Looking at the recordings, I'm reminded of the day I walked into a studio; the morning after a mad italian punk band had spent the night in there. (I think they'd won a competition, you know the scenario; best demo wins 12hr recording session, blah, blah blah...). The place was a riot of wreckage and riffs. I remember my heart going out to the engineer who had had to hold the whole session together, and then make something of it. He looked utterly traumatized.

I identify with him a little now, as I look at the wreckage on my screen.

Panning.

Prospecting.

Sifting the soul from the chaos...

I had lunch with that friend today. He was cripplingly apologetic. I smiled and gently asked him not to waste his energy apologising and worrying. We are friends. And every soul on this crazy ride has his/her own path n' challenge. Their own mission, their own beast to slay. End of conversation.

We agreed that we got off to a storming start. We were on fire. But things happened, and - poor chap - his demons took over. We might try again. We might not. Not everything needs to be set in stone.

I want to pull a few versions of the track, a track, something - whatever it was that happened that afternoon - together. For him. For me. To show him that as horrific as it all got, nothing is ever, totally in vain.

There is always beauty in the horror. Just as there is always horror in beauty...

When i have found, cleaned, washed, loved and cared for it - if there's anything left - I will share it with you.