Heart Of The Sunrise

Source: Google

Those who know me, even those who have had the misfortune of happening to stand a short distance from me when the fuse gets lit, will know how I feel about Yes. This is not one of those posts.

Chris Squire was, I think inarguably, the most influential bass player of all time. Acknowledged as the first bass guitar player to completely disregard the standard manner of playing the instrument and reassembled the role of the bass player in music. And there's really not much more you can add to that.

Yes music in the 1970s was a constant competition between art and ego, pushing somewhat primitive recording technology to breaking point in order to achieve an exceptionally grand, multi-faceted vision. I was obsessed with it for many of my teenage years before something clicked in my head, and I realised that it wasn't just for me anymore. My views on the band are now somewhat vociferous, but there is no way of denying that myself, and every music-centric person I know, fell under the influence of the long shadow cast by Yes.

Squire was the first player who made me want to pick up a bass. Thinking about it now, his style is impossible to define beyond a shrug and simply saying 'Well... it's Chris Squire'. From the all-out frenzy of Heart Of The Sunrise, to the thunderous stomp of Parallels, to the snowfall-delicate Onward, to the growling Tempus Fugit - there were many, many sides to his shape and he excelled at all of them.

My father was always irritated that Squire didn't play the bass 'properly'. For me, not doing it properly was the blueprint on how to do music right. Thank you for that lesson, Chris.

"Onward through the night of my life."

Where In The World

Where In The World (Cover A)

Where In The World will be the first North Haverbrook release. It is an EP, which in this case, stands for 'evolving play'. We're going to have fun with the digital format and its lack of constraints, so it's going to become the host title for any odd tracks or singles that may appear over time. Right now, there are three tracks ready to go (we're just waiting for them to be mastered) and two more demos that will hopefully get completed somewhere down the line. The three tracks to kick off the EP (and, indeed, the band itself) will be:

1. Squonk
2. Subject To Availability
3. Diatryma And The Terror Birds

We don't know if we'll actually be legally allowed to let people have Squonk in some way as it's a good ol' cover version (and quite a different version at that), but we'll see. It was fun to record in any case! An early version of Subject To Availability can be heard here (we've reworked a few things since then) and as for Diatryma... Well, just you wait. Personally, I can't wait to unleash that one.

Live At The Hammersmith Odeon

Some thoughts from watching the old video of Kate Bush live at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1979 for the first time:

"I swear she's just done the Thriller dance before Thriller."

"There's a terrifying violinist on stage..."

"...And now Triffids."

"Two security guards from Nightmare Of Eden on stage. Where is she getting all these hats from?"

"Now she's in Black Narcissus and dancing with a gimp."

"Terrifying mime clown in long eared headgear trying to read a magazine, blown away by wind."

"Now there's an Nevada backdrop and she's doing provocative dancing with a gun."

"She's killed the scary clown mime."

"Graphic killing of a Mexican."

"And now she's dressed as Biggles."

It all makes sense if you've seen it. I insist it does.

Parklife

I was grumpy. Once again, the lack of decent sleep the previous night and the continuing popularity of Game Of Thrones was too much for my sunny disposition to bear. Fortunately, the day was rescued by a strip of sandpaper eroding the corrosion on the battery connectors in my field recorder, which jumped back to life with its tiny Game Boy green screen and total inability to deal with the wind, and we made for the park.

East Park is a park in east Hull. Not only home to that thrilling factoid, it also houses a lake, lots of pretty trees, evil geese, the Khyber Pass, and an exotic bird enclosure. It is the latter for which I set foot outside in the sunny June weather, lathered in suncream and glistening like some pale Turkish wrestler. I want to record them.

Diatryma And The Terror Birds is an instrumental track about gigantic prehistoric feathered predators. A shoe-in for the Top 40, obviously. I'm a big fan of found sounds in music creating an environment for the guitars, drums and such to happily inhabit in their riffing, and exotic birds chirruping away in their thankfully happy brainless song could evoke the vibe of a landscape stalked by dinosaurs, tiny mammals, and Bruce Forsyth. It's the closest I can get, anyway, and it's a day out to clear the misery fog out of my head, so there.

The thing folks don't seem to realise about microphones is that they record sound universally. So no matter if someone is sitting on a bench with a fuzzy silver box listening to a rather active parrot, you can wander right up to the cage and start saying aloud profound thoughts like "Ug" and, especially if you're with a tiny child, hold them up in front of the cage constantly barking out "LOOK AT THE BIRD" while the wee pink thing in a sunhat stares fascinated at a fencepost. So far, recordings so good. The park's enclosure has a number of beautiful creatures to amuse and crap on the public. The aforementioned parrot, a surefire crowd pleaser for those who think chanting "Who's a pretty boy?" hasn't been done enough in the last century, I am told later has learnt a number of profanities to repeat back to families once it's had enough of the attention. Only in Hull. The canaries, budgies, and various finches have a walkthrough built into their enclosure, so you can walk through a tiny forest as tiny brightly coloured wings flutter all around. There are also other exotic imports like emus (probably the closest thing the present day has to a terror bird), cockatiels, Australian things with bizarre plumage and names like boing-boing, chickens, and peacocks. OK, so some are more imported than others. The raccoon dog strictly isn't a bird, but there's one there anyway. The chickens and the peacocks give some great vocal performances, thankfully right in front of my mic and far enough away from small children trying to physically abuse the parrot (it seems 'sunny day in June' is a valid excuse for parents keeping them out of school these days). A park ranger approached to enquire about my activities. Apparently, people had reported to her "a strange man with a device".

"Strange, yes," I have to concede. You win this round, concerned public. We have a nice chat about recording the birds and I get some tips on the best times to pop by. The canaries go mad around closing time, and the emu shrieks if you talk to it. The parrot also mimics babies crying when it simply cannot. I reflect on the fact that a blobby ginger man with a microphone is more cause for concern to passers by than a small boy climbing up the cages and shouting at the inhabitants, but I guess people have different standards. The cock crows into the wind and it's time to go.

Meanwhile, in cyberspace, Moray has assembled a collection of keyboard tracks, terracotta plant pot percussion, and his own birdsong, all of which thrill and delight me out of any remaining stupor. It's good to know that there's someone else who is as bonkers with their music as I am. This is why we're working together. Diatryma is going to be included as part of North Haverbrook's debut EP called Where In The World, which will be out when it's finished. That'll be as soon as I can sing my own lyrics without wanting to punch myself in the throat. This year, definitely. Hopefully.