Music Original Music


I’ve been feeling the distant aroma of inspiration for the first time in years.

This is a song that has been brewing over the last few evenings, and once Bernard was bathed, and Karen’s mug of camomile tea on her bedstand ((incidentally, dear, we’re out of camomile tea. I’ve left the box out on the side)), I hermitted my way into my new Man Cave and surrounded myself with a warm blanket of leads and plectra.

The quality of the end product betrays how little I’ve been practising lately. This one comes from the only-one-shot-allowed school of vocals, and it wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for a particularly windy ‘P’ that ruins everything. Mea cauliflower.

I call it “Man”, due to a little line that crept into my ear and demanded inclusion. I think the thought process that caused this was White Russian => Big Lebowski => line in question.

Uhm, what else? I think that’s about enough. Listen to it now.

(mp3 no longer online – email me if you are interested)

8 replies on “Man”

I like it. Beginning sounds like Tracks Of My Tears.

Worth it alone for the Famous/Amis/Camussss rhyme and it just kept paying out.

A real pleasure Pete.

Nice. Really nice. I’m with Cliff, I love the clever rhymes.

One teeny-tiny criticism, and not really a criticism but more a piece of advice from someone with a smidgin of recording experience, and that is to invest in a bottle of guitar string polish like this one. It’ll stop the “finger scraping against the strings” noise.

But that’s just me being picky.

And like, will you play my wedding? 🙂

Cliff: thanks. It wasn’t until after I’d uploaded it that I realised how much it sounded like *Tracks of My Tears*. Also, *A Little Soul* by *Pulp*. I had real fears that people wouldn’t realise that the pronunciation of *Camus* was intentional. I guess I should have a little faith in future.

Matt: thanks for the advice – I’ll pick some of that polish up next time I’m in a guitar shop.

It came from a drunken conversation in a bar in Woking with a chap called Sam, who was sleeping in my spare bedroom for a couple of months.

I can’t remember any more than that.

I like it. In fact, I found myself thinking of Mr. Cutler during the final refrain – there is something mildly disorientating in discovering at the end of the song that you (as in the listener) are not necessarilty the addressee. Or that you are the addressee, but that the singer is so wrapped up in his own muse that he has momentarily forgotten your name.

Another reason why I was reminded of Cutler is the subdued delivery which I now realise may have been prompted by respect for sleeping neighbours – something Aretha Franklin ought to have given a second thought to before belting out her standard:

(oo) What you want
(oo) Baby, I got
(oo) What you need
(oo) Do you know I got it?
(oo) All I’m askin’
(oo) Is for a little respect when you come home (just a little bit)
Hey baby (just a little bit) when you get home
(just a little bit) mister (just a little bit)

If her man fumbling with his keys too long didn’t wake the baby, I’m sure that did.

(oo) and I like the sound of guitar strings scraping. It goes with feedback, the tiny sound of hammers hitting strings inside a piano, and the pleasant thump of an instrument placed gently on the ground whilst the musician reaches for his drink.

Welcome to the show, Doctor. You are quite correct, I was unable to belt the tune out because I didn’t want to disturb the infant. Oh, I wish I were more selfish.

I wish you hadn’t mentioned that drink. I’ve got a hankering for a glass of Jameson’s now. Which is less than ideal, as I’m at work.

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