I’ve been intending to make a more ambient album for some
time. While working on another music project recently, I started thinking about how nature evolves, preserves,
protects and destroys, and what kind of music could work with that concept. And right there, I had the starting point for a new album project.
Firstly, I set myself some specific restrictions in which to work – no
drums or percussion, no crazy bass lines and distinctive lead riffs. I wanted to
make something expansive and flowing, with an organic feel to it. Something
more exposed, raw and spontaneous.
Our emotions often feel at one and in-tune with the natural
world around us, so I wanted to make something that might feel right to listen
to when out walking through woodlands or countryside, just as much as it
may be something more personal and reflective – and reflection is something we
do more easily when we have that natural open space just to ourselves; those
moments where we can experience a calm sense of time passing and be at one with our thoughts and memories.
I felt it was imperative to find specific sounds that added different textures to the music, such as you would find in nature –
warm, cold, wet, dry, smooth or coarse.
I had been discussing the project with my friend Richard
Hayes, who was again tasked with writing an introduction for the album. And during
our exchange of emails, the phrase that became the album’s title happened to
appear – Remnants From A Lost Time.
However, one of the main influences behind this project was synaesthesia. My synaesthesia has become a crucial part of my creative process, whether I'm creating art or music, although it is perhaps more profound when working on music.
When I'm composing something – which is usually improvised – I think in colours and textures. I might want a "blue" sound or a "yellow" tone, or something that sounds – or feels – like gravel os cool marble. This whole menagerie of colours, forms and textures plays out in my mind, and while it is unlikely to be evident to most of my listeners, for me, that association between sound and colour is a vital part of the process.
I wanted to work with green sounds and earthy textures, to match the natural environment which underpinned the album concept that was also inspiring the music.
With that in mind, for the album artwork, I set about painting some abstract art whilst listening to my own work-in-progress, which resulted in a series of pieces, which ultimately became the cover art.
When I'm composing something – which is usually improvised – I think in colours and textures. I might want a "blue" sound or a "yellow" tone, or something that sounds – or feels – like gravel os cool marble. This whole menagerie of colours, forms and textures plays out in my mind, and while it is unlikely to be evident to most of my listeners, for me, that association between sound and colour is a vital part of the process.
I wanted to work with green sounds and earthy textures, to match the natural environment which underpinned the album concept that was also inspiring the music.
With that in mind, for the album artwork, I set about painting some abstract art whilst listening to my own work-in-progress, which resulted in a series of pieces, which ultimately became the cover art.
Remnants From A Lost Time is available now via Bandcamp.
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