A blogtastic notepad and general repository for hABIT - related verbiage.
Being a child of the DIY post-punk boom I've long wanted to have my own label. The internet, having bulldozed through the traditional music biz in a way that punk only dreamt of, has enabled anyone so inclined to offer their wares Independently and globally, 24/7. So with a little help from my friends, including a couple of good old "can-do" American dudes and an enthusiastic Label Management deal here in the UK, I now have a properly supported outlet for my music which, in management speak, I plan to "grow" eventually to include the signing of interesting new acts. I run a 32 Track digital recording studio, The Signal Box, with excellent outsourced remixing and Mastering facilties (and guitar fettling/building services,) at the discretion of the folks involved. My aim is to provide high quality CDs too, particularly albums - although they are merely a format created by technology, (and now arguably made redundant by it,) as a songwriter I find the album format the ideal vehicle for a body of work, giving each song a discrete context; a family, if you like. Often an album is made up from a group of songs which arise from a particular period in a creative journey too and the idea of the concept album, with a unifying theme, is no longer regarded as something remarkable - it's just another bonus of the 45 minute disc. Yes - I miss the A and B side factor too. Well, it made a psychological difference, both to the artist and the listener, which influenced not just the running order but also the way the songs were perceived. ANYWAY I shall also offer, from time to time, high quality items branded with the hABIT logo; (please make suggestions if there is something you would like to purchase that is not currently available. Livestock and perishable goods excepted. Also toilet roll. Anything habit-related though - I'm thinking cigarette papers, lighters and ashtrays; dental floss; corkscrew; condoms - you get the picture.)
Six Winter Mornings: those sleeve notes in full
The eye - defying darkness and blood rumbling silence
of winter nights, deep in rural Wiltshire, make sunrise a much anticipated
event; a beautiful blessing of light as seductive and worthy of depiction as
the more traditional sunset scene. This is perhaps especially true for the former city
dweller recently arrived among such unsung natural glories. I’ll always remember one early February morning, (a
time of year when one is anticipating the days beginning at 7a.m., after long months
of dark mornings,) when I was walking my dog towards some woods in the endless
inky blackness, being puzzled and thrilled by a sudden and unexpected blaze of
light; it was the Moon appearing between clouds. Somehow the realisation that
this was sunlight, just one degree removed from its’ source, made for a
poignant moment. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Early in 2001 I took six images of dawns, from the
same viewpoint, and thought they might make a good record sleeve - and title. Being small Polaroid prints however they didn’t work
on the scale of a CD cover but, coincidentally, my son Oliver later took a
picture on his mobile phone - which I bagged and mangled in my laptop to make
the generic sunrise featured here.
Having sorted the title and cover the songs came, eventually,
towards the end of a six year sojourn in a remote cottage, where I enjoyed the
silence and beauty of the landscape, the seasons and the wildlife, of stars and
owls. I also had the opportunity to think, to have flights
of fancy, feelings of regret and longing and, sometimes, healing insights - all grist to the
songwriting mill. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Then, following the release of my album “The Huddle
House” in 2007, I found myself with a dilemma: how, having so exceeded all my
expectations on that record with Louis Philippe and Ken Brake, could I proceed? The obvious route was to continue with the winning
team, (and I hope to do so again,) but with hindsight I guess there is always a
need to feel stretched somehow in the making of a new record.
I wanted to use my own studio, which I’d had for fifteen
years, actually to make a record for the first time; and working with Louis and
Ken inspired me and gave me confidence to strike out on my own.
My predicament was that I had no handle on how to approach
the project: I see an album as a discrete body of work made with its’ own
philosophy which shapes and informs its’ aesthetic and purpose.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
As a means to a start I took the first few pages from
a messy pile of recent songs - in - waiting, (there are advantages to not having had a record deal for years,) and casually
recorded fifteen of them. Thus this album began life as a bunch of relaxed
reference takes; acoustic guitar and a vocal, without even a click track to
play along to. In the way of things, having burned a CD of these contenders
to play in the car, it became an
album over time. To my delight, (as with children, I find it almost
impossible to be subjective about my own music,) friends were unanimous in
praising it - Mishka Assayas, whose opinion comes second to none, thought I
should release it as it was.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = T hat was a very tempting idea but, as I drove the
“demo” album around, I kept getting ideas for overdubs and strongly felt that I
should follow my desire to develop the recordings; to support the songs with
the sounds suggested by the naked album. It was therefore a logical compromise to work from
the original, basic, lo-fi tracks; because the performances are authentic and unrepeatable. So the core of each track is unchanged and
dictates the nature of the whole finished arrangement.
A set of criteria for mixing and production evolved
as I went along:
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
I wanted the mixes to be explicit; no more
tambourines apparently coming from a distant outbuilding, but everything almost
equally present.
It also had to swing;
so, after years of Young Marble Giant - style prominence, the Bass here is
not about melody, or stand alone merit, but movement. Being weary of the blandness and omnipresence of
samples and digital fakery I used only real instruments played by real people.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Lyrics (Copyright S. Moxham.)
Bring Out The Best
I only have one heart It's only for one woman To come and take apart You can't make it too soon and
Don't know yet who you'll be But you'll have to love me And all I want for us Is to bring out the best Is to bring out the very best
And I will be with you Not in that fantasy world Which led me to a nightmare When dreams come true you must beware
The lotus eater's choking That diet is quite revolting Feed me with care and I will Repair the ill he did you
Blue Loop
A rainy day and an empty house I've been looking at old photographs
No-one calling on the door or 'phone Guess this is what it means to be alone
I pick up paper and I pick up pen I pick up guitar and I play again
Tell me you miss my gentle touch Tell me you miss my easyness
Say that you can't find my kind Nobody else so fair of mind
East
People say you should never look back But how're you going to see how far you've come? You're looking into shadows When you're walking from the sun Take the time to turn around And see the patterns in your wake Face the heat of a setting sun Do it for their sake
Autumn Song
These chords, this way They make me want to play And sing along This gentle Autumn song
Sunday rain Here again
Hello to you Oh welcome passer-through It's good to see Your colours on the tree
Autumn's turn Deadwood burn
Warning Signs 2
Come round and be with me There is no need to worry We won't want to Hurry back to Where we used to be
Sit here and share with me The times we had before We decided to ignore The warning signs
Tonight
The lateness of the day All colour washed away And the Moon has waxed
The birds to roost all fly A wind pushes the sky And the night is next
The chimneys start to smoke The owl in wood has spoke
The starry gaps above Look down upon my love Who is not far away
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = ...and now, some (copyright) wintry "pomes" (that's what Jack Kerouac called his...)
When The Rockets Are Covered With Leaves
When the rockets are covered with leaves
And the sky's complicated by trees
Broken ice so that horses can drink
Freezing air so the walker can think
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Driving west, through a sodden Somerset, lashed by squalling rain from an angry sky. Black, wet, skeletal trees punctuate the vivid green landscape. The air super-clear under grey rags of cloud.
Flocks of lapwing tack and flicker in effortless unison, Low over latent fields, like fish on a reef.
In mellow country towns the hissing roads are littered With broken branches now denied to the small, Colourful songbirds of winter. This is a West Country the tourist never knows; at the exact opposite to the height of the holiday season. I came to live here twelve months ago, leaving the blaring concrete of the impersonal, self-important south east of England, to be deeply soothed by the old, natural beauty of Wiltshire and Dorset. Once, when I was rhapsodising about the bleak midwinter scene to a local lad he, after an old- fashioned look to check my seriousness, kindly responded, “Wait until the bluebells come out.”
(13:20, 26th January 2002, A303.)
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To sit in that red sofa
Beneath the big window This winter
And hear the rain
Run down the pane While wind rattles the do or (January 2002, Berwick Saint Leonard, Wiltshire.)
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
In the mood for driving slowly
In the middle of the night
Silent roads, unknown, go through me Under frosted, starry light
Remote, the moon rides high and sharp
Across the frigid map of stars
And naked woods endure alone The freezing winds that swirl and moan
Shapely trees on looming ridges Hidden towns, forgotten bridges
Flow like quiet dreams of home Beyond the icy sweep of chrome
(Hertfordshire, late '90s)
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