Strange Costumes Part III: Playing the Field – The Music

Kev cradles his bass paternally…….

It’s been a long time coming, but I finally found some time to put the finishing touches to the third instalment of the Strange Costumes ‘Altered Book’ project that I’m working on in conjunction with Atlanta-based artist and writer Shelley M House. There will be a video version of it later.

As with the previous two, the rhythms are very African influenced. To create the rhythm track, I recorded four or five ‘live’ drum parts using a multiple drum pad module that you play just like a normal kit. for each track, I altered the parameters so the pads triggered different drums and percussion effects. The final, multiple drum track is quite insistent and chaotic, so I opted to overlay a vocal in a sixties, psychedelic ‘lazy’ style, to balance the speed of the piece.  The lyric is dictated very strictly by the words Shelley gave me, in her meter and order, and this, above all else, gives these musical pieces their unusual structure and form. I cannot escape into a chorus, and I have to find ways to fit words in that may conflict with the rhythm. It’s a lot of fun!  You will notice that some of the lyrics are hard to understand. That is because I have gone for an overall feel for the track, and to clearly enunciate them may have compromised that. The music is designed to be listened to in conjunction with reading the lyrics within Shelley’s art pieces. I’ve reproduced the lyrics below, with the small changes I made highlighted in blue:

Fantastic information we find in the field.
Tasty instrument, hear it play, food he likes. (Tasty instrument, hear it play)
Searching shallow ends for frogs and fish, we get too close and find that edges have snapped.
In scenery sharp and strange we play;
very vivid, very thin, and very fond of fruit.
I hope the tree-top toucan can support all the weight.
See the colorful two, overlap and sway,
planting the seeds of the future.
Penknife and pine, the hungry fulcrum faintly tips.
Our friends are prying and peculiar. Stories are told. Perfectly attractive, bold and yellow, red and blue.
We pick out our decorations so carefully.
We find seeds and weeds for large appetites, all of them eating out of habit.
Muddy mouthfuls make it difficult to speak.
Entire worlds are reduced to hums and beats.
Hands and arms, legs and feet, tiny twitters, a deep low beat. (tiny twitters in a deep low beat)
Graceful games turn frantic in a storm.
Run and frisk, high and low, coming in and out of sight. Quick and urgent, they cry, they cry.they cry, they cry…cry…

Words by Shelley M House, Music by Kev Moore

The breakdown in the middle begins with the gradual layering of sampled African choral vocals, mixed with tribal drumming and nature samples steadily building in intensity to re-introduce the main theme.  As the track fades, it departs a little from the trance-like single chord structure and I introduce some changes in the synth chords underneath, so that the lead guitar can be more expressive. The bass line remains the same however, and its always a nice effect, to keep the bass the same and change the underlying chords.

So there it is……enjoy!

You can listen to the first two parts of the series by clicking on the links below:

Strange Costumes

Draped in Strange Feathers

Kev Moore

Draped in Strange Feathers – The Song

Chapter 2: Draped In Strange Feathers

I like this new overcoat, close against my body. Raindrops flow and I am safe. Fluff and snuggle, we dress up for courting season. I no longer lie down. I wear black velvet like a crown, carried high. Rich in red with blossoms of emerald, all the gifts of paradise draped delicately across my breast. Baby soft in my gleaming brightness, I take care so no water seeps in. Without bare skin, I forget how to swim. My glide is gone and I miss the taste of sea worms. Tiny toes get tired, grasping at the tall reeds of late summer. Worn out, I shed my secrets. In the cold, moonlit nights, I am alone. My cry, my song, grows quiet. All of my dreams—turquoise treasures, plumes of plum, circus parasols, dazzling white against a yellow fan —all of my tiny wants in a drop of dew, a grain of sand. I wait for my days of fluff and grace. Open and shut, open and shut; we hide in strange costumes.

Listen here for Part 2 of the “Strange Costumes” collaboration between Shelley and Kev

© Music Kev Moore, Lyrics Shelley M House 2009

Strange Costumes: Chapter 2

I have been working away at my altered book project. I’m doing more writing now than illustrating, but it will all come eventually.

Chapter 2: Draped In Strange Feathers

           I like this new overcoat, close against my body. Raindrops flow and I am safe. Fluff and snuggle, we dress up for courting season.

          I no longer lie down. I wear black velvet like a crown, carried high. Rich in red with blossoms of emerald, all the gifts of paradise draped delicately across my breast. Baby soft in my gleaming brightness, I take care so no water seeps in.

          Without bare skin, I forget how to swim. My glide is gone and I miss the taste of sea worms. Tiny toes get tired, grasping at the tall reeds of late summer. Worn out, I shed my secrets.

          In the cold, moonlit nights, I am alone. My cry, my song, grows quiet. All of my dreams – turquoise treasures, plumes of plum, circus parasols, dazzling white against a yellow fan — all of my tiny wants in a drop of dew, a grain of sand.

          I wait for my days of fluff and grace. Open and shut, open and shut; we hide in strange costumes.

by Shelley

Strange Costumes – the video

Following the recent collaboration between Shelley and myself,

I present here another facet – the video to Strange Costumes!

© Music written and performed by Kev Moore 2009

© Lyrics and art by Shelley M House 2009

Strange Costumes: Still Pink?

This is not how I wanted this page to look. I envisioned it in black and white, with one larger bird in solid black that partially covers the text. But the problem I’m having when I write my own text for the background is that every word becomes too precious to me. I don’t want to cover any of them up. I have a couple ideas to work around that problem, but for now, I think I’ll leave it like this and try writing chapter 2.

In case you’re wondering, those are pink flamingos. I have a thing for them right now. Nicole thinks the next chapter should have yellow canaries. We will see.

Strange Costumes

This is a bit of writing I started for my altered book project titled “Strange Costumes.” This is a rough draft, which I am generally reluctant to show anyone. But I sent this to Kev for consideration for a song project, and he invited me to share it with you here. Thank you for giving me confidence in my work, Kev! This project may survive the “Pink Lemonade” glitch after all

——————————————–

Chapter 1: The Options, Say Great-Grandmother Bird

Green rivers flow, strange lizards down below. Feathers help the birds to fly. High above the earth we hear them, calling us. They have a story to tell.
Our feet slip in the sand. The hot sun does not forgive us. If we had sharp teeth, we would not need to know the answers. Jaws could make decisions for us. We could sit on primitive rocks.
Needing food, we fly. I admire the streamlined design. A souring escape is natural to us. We can exist for a million years like this.
The rain pours down. We cry for dry weather. The days get cut and we lose all our time. We forget how to put together the pieces. Babies look down with all the power.
These long, fleshy tails have changed. Light feels hollow. Moving bones surprise us. Can these human arms replace wings? I feel so heavy.
I want a lighter body, one that springs faster. Never landing, never landing. These toes have a higher temperature.
I need help with this rapid heartbeat. No one expects this. We need energy to pump the blood. I learn to make this body fly.

——————————————-

by Shelley

Pink Lemonade

“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”

I like that saying. In this case, I made pink lemonade.

This WAS the first draft I printed out of some prose for my altered book project. Of course my ink cartridge was low, but I could still read enough to take some notes. That was, until Matthew got a hold of it.

Picasso said it took him a lifetime to paint like a child, so I always pay close attention to what my children draw. I think my lesson here is that I need to loosen up a little bit more with my writing.

If I ever finish this project, it will need a “Bloopers” chapter for pages like this. Like at the end of funny movies — mistakes the actors make that get caught on film.

~Shelley