I hope I never lose my sense of wonder. If that makes me naive, then so be it.

Thursday, 4 December 2008

for real this time

Last night we started the Real Thing. Tim came over to set up loads of pretty and expensive things whose names escape me and always will, then Uberguitartist came over, got set up, and started to play. And I stood in the kitchen listening and realizing that this cut was going public.

I always do that with big things. My wedding, our big trips - all were something huge coming and all seemed to be 'way out there until they were really, truly and unequivocally HERE. When the rest of the gang arrived, my amazing backup singing crew, they launched into it and I could just hear it all coming together.

Funny thing about the evening was, I barely sang a note, just enough to remind people of the occasional part. It was quite a change from the two weeks of ghost tracks where what I heard on playback was all me. They sounded great. The beauty of recording showed up as my six friends became a huge choir. The looks on their faces was probably one of my highlights of the evening for me - their delight at hearing what they'd done and how it sounded was so fun to see.

The girls had recorded the bridge before anyone else arrived, and their little voices sounded so sweet. They took it all in stride, headphones in place over one ear and singing into the mic. All decided that recording is a Very Fun Thing To Do.

As a bit of a break from all this glamorous recording stuff, R came in to tell me that only eleven hens were in the roost (a fact that carries several episodes of deja vu here on the farm). The door had been left open and one hadn't come back for the night. I reassured her by saying maybe she'd been caught out as the sun went down and had roosted in another barn. We made a quick search with a flashlight, R calling for the hen and me looking for the telltale feathers that would let me know she'd been snatched, to no avail. After everyone had gone for the night I headed out, crunching over the snow, looking again. As I rounded the coop I saw her huddled against the outside of the building, blinking at me but quiet. Surprised to find her safe and sound, I picked her up at which point she started making these little soft cooing noises over and over. If a chicken can purr, I think I heard it last night.

The piano gets tuned today, and tonight I add the real piano part and the real lead vocal. The girls may re-record some of what they did yesterday, and then by next week I have a track ready for online download.

It's real, and it's here.

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