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Tenuous title explanation #1: On August 4th we had our first (and at time of writing, only) gig as Henry Fool, at the Whitchurch Festival. It was an unusual gig, as a) Fudge couldn't make it, so Richard Osbourne, who had drummed for Samuel Smiles in the early 90's stepped in on VDrums, b) Myke Clifford couldn't make it, as he was compering at the Cambridge Folk Festival, and c) Stephen Bennett couldn't make it for personal reasons. Consequently, I ended up having to fill in on electric piano as well as bass (sometimes simultaeneously), which was a bit of a challenge.
We had the bizarre privilege of being followed by Focus's first live performance in over twenty years, and I simply had to stay at least until I'd seen them play Hocus Focus. It was worth it; I've seen a man in a floppy hat and leather coat play the flute, hammond organ and yodel with a level of abandon most of us can only dream of. I can die a happy man in the knowledge that I've lived.
The point of all the above is to establish that I had to leave the gig late, with a long way to drive, and a car full of musical equipment. As I'd not been driving long, and had only had four hours sleep the night before, I was nervous about travelling that late, so I decided that I'd have to shell out for a Motel room. I was a bit annoyed at having to pay for a night in a grubby room by a motel room, so I consoled myself with the idea that I'd set myself the challenge of recording an album in my bedroom, using only the instruments I'd had for the Henry Fool gig (plus Tim's acoustic guitar, which I was giving a lift home to). That way I might be able to sell a couple of copies, and cover my motel expenses!
You'd probably feel a lot better about having waded through the above paragraphs if I'd actually recorded the album, but it turned out that the only motel I found had only a smoking room available, and I thought that nothing sounded more grim than a smokey room next to the M3 motorway. In the end, it turned out that I'd badly midjudged the petrol in my tank, and the sheer terror prospect of running out on the sparsely populated M25 motorway kept me wide awake until I finally made it to the South Mimms service station, just as my fuel guage became rather attention seeking. If you've ever been to South Mimms service station, you'll understand how strange it is to be pleased to see the place.
Having failed to actually record in a motel, I still like the idea of recording the pieces as if I'd been stuck in one, so I sat down and record several pieces the night after I'd got back. The first two are fretless bass and electric piano 'duets' (fretless bass went down first, should you care about such things), and the last two are short electric piano solos.
If you liked this track, you might also like He Wrote This or Henry Fool
For a number of years, I've dithered about whether or not I can actually get by as a singer-songwriter. Many people survive in the medium with precious little vocal ability, but I've never made up my mind if I've got what it takes or not. Working with singers of the calibre of Sandra and Tim doesn't help! Over the last year or so, I've been writing a number of songs for a vocal solo album, and this gives an idea of the approach - bleak and heavily atmospheric. Sandra O'Neill, my partner from Alias Grace wails plaintively over the track, as only she can, and it sends shivers down my spine. The lyric was loosely inspired by the sea viewed from the barren Norfolk coast, and possibly a scene in the film Perfect Storm where a character finds himself in the middle of the sea, surrounded by miles of nothing, and a frankly bleak outlook. It's probably the lyric I've written that I'm most proud of.
If you liked this track, you might also like Tim Bowness / Peter Chilvers / California, Norfolk or Alias Grace - Embers
I recently read a very odd little sci-fi novel by David R. Palmer called 'Emergence' about a young girl trying to make sense of a world decimated by nuclear war. Tim and I share a love of post-apocalyptic films and books, and the mood of the piece suggested something of that feeling of looking out on a ruined landscape. The truth is though, that the title is a bad pun on the fact that it was played with the left hand only. As I was growing up, I used to develope my left hand piano technique by holding (and eating) an apple with my right hand while improvising with my left. In this particular case, I substituted the apple for a rather hot cup of tea.
If you liked this track, you might also like Stormwatcher
I'm not going through the motel anecdote yet again ; suffice it to say that this was the second piece in the impromptu suite, and I was feeling, dare I say, a little funky.
If you liked this track, you might also like He Wrote This or Henry Fool
A while ago I chanced on a set of software plugins that when wired in the correct combination would behave to my ears, in exactly the way that Richard Barbieri would circa Rain Tree Crow. What a find! I used this sound through a large delay to build up a loop, then added various string textures. Jon Hart kindly added some sparse vibraphone chimes, while I soloed.
If you liked this track, you might also like Stormwatcher or He Wrote This
Short but sweet...
I've spent years hunting for the best piano sound to use from a keyboard, and a company called Wizoo have finally provided, by sampling every note of a grand piano at every conceivable volumes, and then perfectly simulating the behaviour of the sustain pedal (the heart of a piano sound). Although my main interest, obviously, is in getting the thing to behave exactly like a piano, I discovered there are some unusual things to be found from treating it like a synth - in this case I ran it through a randomising arpeggiator and a filtered delay, which turns the whole thing into a rather satisfying Steve Reich-ish muddle of notes. Jon stepped in again with his trademark rattling marimba textures, while I slid around muddily and moodily on the bass.
If you liked this track, you might also like Tim Bowness / Peter Chilvers - California, Norfolk or Stormwatcher
A little sorbet to cleanse the pallette before I start singing again...
Another song with a long history. I wrote the lyric to a completely different guitar piece in about 1994, then realised that I'd subconsciously stolen the title from Tim's album Flame with Richard Barbieri. Oops! Sandra and I recorded it some time after for the first Alias Grace album Embers. I had the guitar idea used here kicking around for a while, and in searching for a lyric, realised that this fitted perfectly. The various textures on the piece are either from treating the guitar itself, or treating the sound of my alarm clock being switched on and off repeatedly.
If you liked this track, you might also like Alias Grace - Storm Blue Evening, Tim Bowness / Peter Chilvers - California, Norfolk or Paul Goodwin - Burning Shed Session
I decided to drop this track (ironically, given the title) just after I'd released the album into the 'wild', as I felt with hindsight it didn't fit with the rest of album. So you might not have heard what this refers to. If you have, here's my notes on it:
The text, if you hadn't realised it, was not by me, but comes from the Onion, and was written shortly after the 11th September bombing. I was very struck by the article - cleverly written, but surprisingly moving, and I think it makes a point that really should be terribly obvious very well. It's still capable of reducing me unexpectedly to a blubbering wreck, which I'd imagine the author never expected. Then again, he or she probably never expected the treatment I've given it, and I hope they don't mind. Here's where you come in, though - if you make a copy of this album, I invite you to exercise editorial control, and make the decision whether or not to include this track! Let's see if it survives...
Thanks for listening,
Peter Chilvers, 17/09/2002