Writing this in producer Alex Mayor’s underground studio, in a complex near Hackney Downs station, evening of Tuesday May 29th. We’re working on the Fosca song ‘Kim’, which mentions Archway and vaguely chronicles certain London types I know, or have invented. My notes on the lyrics say ‘New Song – October 2003.’ Better very late than never.
It’s all been recorded by Brother Tom, but needs a good mixing. Rachel has said my vocal take on this one sounds a bit strangled at times, but when we play them back they sound fine enough. Well, as fine as I can be as a singer. I redo a section here and there, however.
I say ‘we’, but I really mean Mr Mayor. He’s doing all the work. I’m just sitting here typing. He says that down the corridor Darren Hayes’s new album is being mixed. The boy from the band Savage Garden.
As I write, Mr Alex is adding a woodpecker-like percussion sound. What do I think, he asks? I say I think it sounds like a woodpecker. I want more glockenspiel. If in doubt, add glockenspiel. He does, and it sounds much, much better. The woodpecker has been blended in.
The song now sounds a bit early Saint Etienne (echoey guitar stabs dotted around a blissful bass guitar riff, loops fading in and out), even a bit ‘Steve McQueen’-era Prefab Sprout. Kate D’s strings are a joy – a subtle arrangement within an arrangement. I panic at first when we can’t find them on the computer, and phone her in case she can pop into the studio to re-record her part.
“Um, it’s not really convenient… I’m laden down with shopping and am on my way home.”
“Oh, it’s okay, we’ve found them now. Fell down the back of the Pop Sofa.”
Plans for Fosca’s gig in Sweden now include the recording of our set with the possibility of release as a live EP on a Swedish label, perhaps even a live album.
Studio sustenance: I tentatively try Snack-a-Jacks crisps, Caramel flavour. I decide they’re essentially flattened-out cinema popcorn, sweet as opposed to sour.
I note for the first time that Snack-a-Jacks are made by the Quaker Oats company. I keep noticing Quaker-related things lately – my cottage in Sedburgh, Cumbria was next to St Andrew’s Church, which the Quaker founder George Fox spoke at. Before I go to the studio, I spend time in the Quaker bookshop and cafe in Euston Road. Going on Facebook for the first time, I note the first person I look at describes herself as an ‘Atheist Quaker’.
Lately, I’ve found myself keen to find out more about Quakers; it’s the one religion I’ve always been the most intrigued about. They’re anti-war, anti-aggression, anti-heirachy, anti-priests, anti-waste, anti Making A Fuss, pro-environmentalism, pro-honesty. They commune with The Divine in utter silence. Meditation with an centuries-old English tradition behind it, as opposed to a self-help fad. They see other religions as something to learn from rather than rival, and actually rent out their properties to other faiths when they’re not using them. And apparently, some Quakers really do describe themselves as agnostics or even atheists. That’s a pretty tolerant religion.
The Friends House on Euston Road includes a public garden. I like how this oasis of humanist reflection is on one of the noisiest streets in London.
