MUTES 1.
The droppings of the falcon are known as ‘mutes’. Since I’ve run out of poems and am producing prose posts at a much reduced rate, those ramblings such as this that do make it to screen shall be known as ‘mutes’ from hereon: small droppings after diligent scrutiny of the landscape below.
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Well, we shared our rag-bag of Americana tunes and songs with a capacity crowd in the tiny saloon bar of the Red Lion on Friday night. Reception was appreciative and we sparked the active interest of a blues promoter and a rep from the annual world music festival Rhythms of the World (which prestigious event is held in Hitchin every summer), both of whom had come to check us out.
We were a little less enchanted. We’d been playing all afternoon and in the acoustic purity of my sitting room had put together a pleasing set comprising pre-war country blues, post-war Chicago blues, timeless mountain music, guitar rags and arrangements of No Woman, No Cry and I Heard It Through The Grapevine. But the old bugbears of dodgy sound on stage (actually, in inglenook fireplace) made it harder work than we’d anticipated and things only really picked up for us in the second half.
Whenever and wherever it all happens next, sound must be mixed externally and there must be fold-back – both pretty much unknown luxuries when we started out, both pretty much essential for the exacting on-stage standards nowadays.
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What is it about Iceland? A population of 320,000 and it manages to produce the most haunting music out of left-field in the whole multicultural polyglot expanse of Europe. This is Icelandic composer Skúli Sverrisson with his Vaktir Þú, featuring Ólöf Arnalds on vocals.
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I’m thinking of posting the entirety of The Famous Flower to the Pages, dividing it as best I can into episodes. The Rachels Fenton and Fox have provided very helpful feedback on the first draft, which has informed the second version that I’ve now completed.
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Word is that we’re aiming for the end of February for a publication date. for Ancient Lights, which is exciting and alarming in equal measure. I’m struggling for graphics for a cover motif that will reflect the book’s contents whilst satisfying the requirements of book design. As for locating a back cover pic of the author that doesn’t have him looking like a Breughel burgher just after lunch but radiates instead the lissome beauty that lies within, the task has barely started.
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