Behind the Façade...

Earlier this month my cover artwork for Alice Sabo's upcoming novel Façade, was revealed.

And here it is.

But how did it get here?

Alice has described Façade as a space fantasy, so while SF to a degree, she was keen that the cover art had a more distinct fantasy look to it, courtesy of one of the castle buildings that feature in the story.

So we had agreed the scene would be a castle type structure with a small craft coming in to land, overhead. My first visuals were based on traditional/historical style castles, but these weren't right for the description in the story. While a cover should be flexible and not too descriptive, I do feel is is important to have a pretty faithful depiction of what you'll find in the book.

I was also keen on only showing just a portion of the castle – more of a suggestion of looking at part of a much larger, complex structure, than trying to squeeze an entire castle on to the front cover. That would also leave it more open to interpretation. So various angles and viewpoints were explored - this included one version seen from one of the castle balconies:

The building structure needed to be more grand and impressive, with cathedral-like arches, towers and spires, and I felt the best way to show this was to view the scene from a low angle. So the next – and what became final – version of the cover focused on a more gothic style structure, seen through a clearing in the surrounding forestry:

I added a figure on one of the balconies, looking up at the craft, in anticipation of its arrival. In the final painting, this actually became two figures, loosely based on two of the story's characters: 

It became clear while I was working on the final artwork that the castle needed to be taller still, so I applied a greater perspective and added more towers and levels, allowing the structure to soar into the stormy clouds above.

While small, the ship was a crucial detail. Because of the name of the craft (you'll have to read the book to find that out!), Alice was keen that it could be almost bird-like in its design:

So there's plenty to explore in the scene overall, and I was very pleased with that. I wanted to create an image that made you want to explore it; to wander up a staircase or peep in through a window. It certainly came with its challenges, but that's what it's all about, right?

Leaving a Legacy

My first album of new material for this year is called Legacy. It is a project that came about very quickly – one of those instances when the ideas and creativity flowed almost effortlessly, and just kept on coming.

In fact, I had no plans to make anything new just yet, but as any artist, musician or writer (etc) will tell you, creativity is like an itch that just needs to be scratched – and I’ve been doing some serious scratching!

As I discussed in my two previous blog entries, the untimely loss of David Bowie has had quite a profound effect on me. Not only did I love every aspect of his music to the core, but I also learned so much from him as an artist. The day after that news broke, I found myself sat late at night with my thoughts, and I simply felt an urge to make music. No matter what the result, it was something I needed to do. So I fired up my Mac and plugged in the midi keyboard – and that was the starting point for when became Legacy.

And David has left an enormous legacy, one that will live on and inspire future generations. His music has never sounded more alive than it does right now, and my recent re-exploration of his work got me thinking about how his work has influenced my own music and my ways of thinking and working. Bowie always struck me as a very spontaneous artist, renowned for often nailing his vocals in the first take – and that spontaneity shows in the energy of his music. One of the many things I’ve always admired in his songs is the unique view of the world they instantly allow you to see – and that is what excites me about making (and listening to) instrumental music; there are no guiding lyrics, just the music for you to interpret as you wish. 

Some of David’s most emotive pieces include the haunting instrumentals from the Low and “Heroes” albums of his famed “Berlin” period of the late 70s. What fascinates me about those tracks is how textural and how organic they sound, despite being heavily electronic. That same organic feel can also be found on his largely under-valued albums of the mid-90s, The Buddha of Suburbia and 1.Outside – two of my personal favourites, and albums that sit perfectly alongside those Berlin albums. Sometimes the music is very simple, other times it is densely layered and complex, and I often find myself wanting to get inside those layers and really hear what its all made up from. I constantly strove to find a more textural and organic sound. To me, making instrumental music feels like building up a sonic landscape to explore – parts of it are carefully and intricately planned out, others are purely spontaneous. Sometimes the destination is clear, other times you find yourself in unexpected territory. David Bowie's music has not only been a soundtrack to my own life, but had it not been for his outlook and artistry, I may have never have felt the drive to try and make my own music.

Legacy is dedicated to David. In a way, it is my personal tribute and certainly the creative process was my own way of dealing with this loss. I found myself grappling with the same issues we all do when somebody we admire has left us – those supressed questions and thoughts bubble back up to the surface, and you find yourself looking backwards; longing for what’s been and gone. But this was just the starting point for the project – I certainly didn’t anticipate making an album’s worth of material.

But every project needs an origin, and once you have that starting point, you can explore all the places it leads you, as it takes shape and finds direction.

Much of the above may sound a little downbeat, and it has resulted in some reflective and nostalgic music. But I would prefer think of the music of Legacy to be more thought-provoking rather than gloomy in any way. Granted, it is very dark in places, but in contrast, it has its equal share of light and optimism. I also wanted to work very spontaneously, keeping most first takes and leaving that slightly raw feel. It can be so easy to lose that spontaneity and immediate mood or emotion through too much refining and polishing.

Most of all, what I wanted to achieve with this set of songs was a sense of journey and transformation – whether that is a journey into the future or a rummage back through the past, is up to the listener.

While I found myself revisiting some familiar motifs in the music, most of the sound palette on the album is fresh. Only on a couple of tracks did I allow myself the use some of my comfortable, trademark sounds – simply because they were the only ones that really worked. But one of the ‘rules’ I gave myself for Legacy was to work with a new soundscape where possible. Even something like a string sound – rather than going straight to ones I’d used previously, I’d look through new ones, or try something unexpected.

I can’t remember how the title came about. It may have been one of those moments when a particular word suddenly stands out from the page of a book or something, but “legacy” popped up and seemed absolutely perfect for the project.

Assigned with the regular duty of writing sleevenotes, my good friend Richard Hayes came up with some marvellous wording that not only encapsulates the underlying mood of the album, but that compliments the music and helps throw it open to interpretation:

Life is full of experiences.  From the everyday and mundane to the exceptional and life-changing, they mould and develop us to be what we are today.

Legacy is available now, via Bandcamp.
The full album download comes with a PDF booklet containing Richard Hayes' specially-penned sleeve notes.

Pushing backs against the grain

One thing David Bowie’s music taught me was to be honest in your creativity.

David’s work, outlook and creative processes have been the best art and music teaching I could have ever wished for. In addition to his music, his creative approach and his thinking still inspire me to this day, and will continue to do so.

I’ve always cited Bowie as an influence on my own music, but it is perhaps less evident, with my work being instrumental. But the atmospheres and textures of his music on albums such as Low are often what caught my attention, and that seamless integration between his music and its associated visuals – the videos, his personas and album cover artwork.

One thing that David said during a 1997 interview with Alan Yentob, was, “If you’re really turned on by what you’re doing, there’s bound to be other people out there who like it.” This really resonated with me, and as a self-taught musician, I’ve found it to be very true.  

I also shamelessly admit to borrowing that phrase, as it has become a creative motto to me. It has always been at the back of my mind whenever I publish a new piece of artwork or music. It no longer matters if I’m not the most accomplished player or whatever – I’m the best I can be, doing my best at this particular moment. And quite simply, if I like it, others will too. What more encouragement could you ask for? And I’m not sure I would have ever thought that way without those words from Bowie.

In another interview, David once described himself as “the ultimate recycler”, and I think that it true of any artist and creativity in general. You absorb your surroundings and influences, then reshape and repurpose them in your own way.

A week ago, I was still digesting Blackstar – this exciting new album from David Bowie, with no inclination – like everyone – of the nigh-on impossible to accept news that would be just around the corner.

“If I never see the English Evergreens…”

Now knowing the album’s now evident theme, the song Dollar Days now feels like the most honest and emotional song on the album, if not most open and vulnerable song he’s ever written. 

There’s a finite beauty to Lazarus. It’s over. Written from the future, where there’s no turning back.

“I’ll be free…”

But on Dollar Days we're back on the final path, and there's a real sense of angst and frustration, of the knowledge that he had little time left, yet he still had work to do; perhaps wanting to pull off another Ziggy moment and surprise everybody, but not in the way he eventually would.

“I’m dying to push their backs against the grain and fool them all again and again…. I’m trying to.”

Through those lyrics alone, you can sense his undying creativity was driving him forwards, pushing him on to keep going, working and creating.

Blackstar’s closing track I Can’t Give Everything Away, also has a sad finality to it. It is as if he’s saying, “you can’t have everything, but here’s one last lot”. If Dollar Days is denial, then in some ways, I Can’t Give Everything Away is a resigned acceptance.

So in one sense, the whole album makes me think of the stages/cycle of grief – that so many fans around the world are now experiencing:

Denial > Anger > Bargaining > Depression > Acceptance

It does feel like the loss of a friend or close family member. Yet, I didn’t know the man and had never met him, beyond standing a few meters away during the two times I saw him perform live (see my previous blog entry about that!).

But to those of us who took David’s music to that extra, deeper level and gleamed so much from it, it is unsurprising that we feel such a very personal loss. Not only knowing that David won’t be around any more, but also that internal sense of loss, attached to our own memories and all our personal experiences of his music that shaped our lives.

But Blackstar is an incredible album as a work of music and creativity alone. While in many ways it embodies his musical legacy, to my ears, it follows a similar thinking to the kind of more experimental albums that he put out in the 1990s – The Buddha of Suburbia, 1.Outside and Earthling. All three of those albums sounded ahead of their time at the time, and still sound incredibly current today. They included similar jazz elements that would go on to form the backbone of the music on Blackstar, and sit comfortably alongside it. It’s a great shame that much of the music press and critics didn’t have the brain capacity to understand or appreciate those albums at the time.

Its is worth noting, that despite being a similarly adventurous album, Blackstar was already headed for the number one spot before Bowie left us. So it pleases me to know, or at least hope, that David was aware of this, seeing his final work already embraced so enthusiastically.

On Blackstar he sings "Somebody else took his place...", yet we know that his particular boots will never be filled. David Bowie was always ahead of the game, musically, artistically and visually, and he stunned the world in so many ways right to the end.

“Ain’t that just like me.”

Never Wave Bye-Bye...

I have been obsessed with David Bowie’s music for many years, so any new release is an event. And since Friday, I’ve been absorbed in his latest album, Blackstar. As I played the album repeatedly over the weekend, I had started mentally writing an analysis that I planned to post here.

Then yesterday, the unthinkable news broke of David’s sudden passing.

My first few plays of Blackstar on Friday afternoon, left me asking a lot of questions, especially wondering whether tracks such as Lazarus, Dollar Days and I Can’t Give Everything Away were somehow autobiographical. David has rarely been so openly personal and emotional in his writing – on occasions you have to fight through layers of metaphor to see what lies at the core, but not so in this case. The songs are open and vulnerable. However at the time I had simply concluded that he was writing from his perspective of life at his age, with mortality an ever more poignant subject – and how devastatingly true this transpired to be.

Playing the new songs late into Sunday evening, they were still going round my head on Monday morning when I woke up to the news I’d foolishly hoped I’d never have to deal with.

I've known of David’s music from an early age, but it wasn't until I was in my teens and working out what music turned me on, that I found myself properly discovering David’s music after seeing the promo video for Jump (They Say). The album Black Tie White Noise had just been released, so that was my starting point.

That musical discovery took me on a very long and exciting journey, as over the years, I waded through Bowie’s back catalogue, exploring his various phases and incarnations. The release of the 1.Outside album in 1995 had a profound effect on me, and I still hail it as one of his greatest and most underrated works. Like much of his music, it still sounds ahead of its time today.

Seeing David perform live on the Outside tour was an incredible experience, as was seeing him again years later in 2003, on what became his final tour. Amazing concerts and memories I’ll forever cherish.

“Ain’t that just like me?” is one of many lyrics on Blackstar that have now become all the more significant. Indeed, only David could have you mesmerised and inspired by new music one day, and leave you heartbroken the next.

Ever private and always humble, Bowie clearly wanted to avoid letting on he was ill, and the inevitable media onslaught and sensationalism that would go with such an announcement. This was one dark secret he kept until the very end.

The fact that he wrote and recorded the whole album and worked on the Lazarus stage play whilst he was, unbeknown to us, battling cancer, is surely a testament to the man’s creativity, focus and willpower. He wanted to see both projects through to the end, and that he did, making his final, brief appearance on stage in early December at the premier of the Lazarus play, then holding on long enough to see his final album released on January 8^th, his 69^th Birthday.

Although the music on Backstar now speaks for itself, Jonathan Barnbrook’s cover design is no less profound, a star icon in stark black and white, and the only David Bowie album cover not to feature the artist in some form, nor his name (at least in conventional lettering). Through its simplicity, this cover stands out like a bright star among Bowie’s many iconic album covers, making its mark almost like a full-stop at the end.

When an artist goes before their time, their work often feels unfinished. Although David undeniably still had a lot more to give, he had carefully crafted what he knew would be his final album, a closing chapter to his incredible discography and musical legacy, reflected in the final moments of his video for Lazarus, which sees him playfully busting some of his 70s stage poses before walking backwards into a wardrobe and closing the door. Theatrical to the end.

Few artists have inspired me artistically and musically like David Bowie has. I have felt a connection to his music on so many levels, and it has been a true soundtrack to life, through both difficult and good times.

We have lost an icon and a legend, culturally and inspirationally. But while David’s black star will be shining bright somewhere up there, his music will live on forever here, with us. Even so, the world without David Bowie is a duller place.

We will celebrate all things Bowie by continuing to listen to his music and observe future generations discovering his five decades worth of artistic brilliance. David made it alright to be different; a reassurance to those of us who never quite fitted in. Nobody will ever replace him, nor be able innovate or challenge things the way he did. David Bowie was there at the right time and could only do all that he has achieved in this particular timeline.

To have been able to enjoy his music, to see him play live and simply to exist at the same time as David Bowie is a precious thing to behold.

Thank you, David.

Into the dark...

My album Dark Corners was published via Bandcamp today.

As mentioned in my previous blog entry, the music on Dark Corners is made up of tracks that were originally written for other albums. So in my mind, before it had a title, this was a collection of ‘homeless’ songs. Tracks that didn’t fit in their parent albums, but ones that still had potential and which I felt deserved to be part of my discography.

Dark Corners comprises tracks that originated while I was working on Traces, Sentient City, Panorama and Timeshift, plus a couple of other recent demos. And I wanted it to be very much a “demos” type album, presenting the songs in a slightly more raw state. Not only to allow a slight insight in to my working process but because even in this unpolished state, I felt these tracks all had a certain something, that could easily be lost through overworking them.

But what I hadn’t expected was a common new theme emerging.

When discussing the album with my friend Richard Hayes (whose ears have been subjected to my recent music in all of its states of creation), we’d soon agreed that the music on this album had a darker, more psychological, perhaps ghostly or supernatural mood to it. This was reaffirmed in the sleevenotes Richard later wrote for the album:

“The dark places of the physical world around us may conceal the strange and the menacing.  But much more so do the immaterial and limitless depths of our own minds.”

The music shifts regularly between the contrasting moods of light and dark. Unpredictable, and a refreshing change from the science fiction aspect that drives much of my work, even if some of the music here grew out of science fiction origins.

In-keeping with the more gothic nature of some of the music, for the artwork, I decided to finally make good use of a photo shoot from a couple of years ago with photographer Dave Yeaman taken in Sheffield General Cemetery – a fascinating place dating back to the 1800s, and disused since the 1970s. This was an ideal opportunity to use this kind of imagery.

I usually like to plan out an album – come up with a concept, a title and settle on a general sound palette. Dark Corners seemed to plan itself.

Dark Corners is available now on Bandcamp.