Balder but bolder

So, the fourth and last week has started here at the Chapel. It's been a beautiful experience so far. John and Matt left Friday morning and again it took me a while to get used to being alone. The days are lovely and bright, the nights kind of long, dark and lonely. Just me and way to much Famous Grouse.

The two weeks I had here with the boys proved mighty productive and it now looks likely I'll be coming home with a full album of songs. Bits and pieces still to do at home, but mostly it's all there. We recorded from early morning until late night every day they were here, pretty much, rarely interrupted by anything but walks, runs, whiskey drinking and other necessary evils.
The last time I wrote I really didn't have any idea what it is we were making, but slowly the music is starting to sink into me. I think we will be very pleased with what we have done. It's funny how something that comes from your own conscious can feel so alien at first, but it really does. I could compare it to having someone else's baby, but that would be a bit off, so forget I said that. Perhaps a bit more like pinching your brother's running shoes and then, almost annoyed, taking a few runs to get used to them. Yes, that actually happened. And I won't apologise, if you are reading this, it gave you are perfectly valid reason to buy a nice new pair, and to smack me a dead leg for that matter.
Stop ramblin'.

The Great Lode (Yeah, go on, say it out loud and look at your scrotum)
Last Monday we went to an abandoned copper mine. Once the largest in the world, no less.
Since reading Sons & Lovers I had wanted to write something about the toiling miners of the North (or indeed Wales...), so when Matt starting talking about what George Orwell once said on the matter we decided to write a song from the perspective of a miner.
John had read about this mine called Parys Mountain, about 20 miles from here, in a guide book only that day, so after inquiring we booked ourselves a tour of the mine with the intention of recording some of the vocals down there.Unexpectedly the tour was really quite exciting. A nice man by the name of Ronald (I know what you are thinking, thankfully it wasn't that Ronald) ventured 40 fathoms down into the mountain where we were taking through the blackest maze of muddy shafts imaginable. Almost a full three hours we were underground before an impressive cave with little orange lakes of copper coloured water opened up to the darting beams of our head lamps. Inexplicably this cave, though smaller than the others we had seen, had an otherworldly reverberation and Ron looked proud when he saw our excitement. With much care being taken to dodge the drips of ultra acidic water from the ceiling, we pulled out our recording equipment from the sodden overalls and managed to do a few vocal takes.
15 minutes later, when the most TV static like ceiling of stars conceivable spread out before us, and I had done a much needed wee, we felt very happy to be outside again.The results of the adventure, apart from the obvious adventure itself, will hopefully find their way onto the album, which by the way is still nameless.

I can smell the Smoke

I am so used to being here by now, the dreamy landscape and the sense of daylight, even now in winter, so I really feel a bit worried about London crashing into my bloodstream again. From what I could understand Matt and John felt more or less electrocuted by the hum buzz upon their return to the Smoke. I guess there is no avoiding it, if you want to be able to buy Grolsch at all hours of the day. And more importantly, there are people I am starting to miss terribly, who might forget about me if I don't soon reclaim my place in the other world.

Anyway, still lots of plucking to be done before such challenges.

Take care, you city gulls,

Soren (and Matt and John)

Penrhos Chapel #2 from Sorenious Bonk on Vimeo.