- Vol. 02
- Chapter 10
Image by Kimberley Richards
The StudioOriginally the surrounding horizons were flat and characterless. They looked endless and plain, usual and fresh, a canvas that was as pure as virginity. But when the musician entered, with his mind focused yet awash with creativity, the walls bent and snapped as the land around him grew into hills of waves of falling sand.
The first note was low, his bass guitar sending a ripple into the air. Like butter the atmosphere became soft and thick whilst feeling pleasant and warm. The straight line of the distant land then made its first movement. A piece of string being flicked at one end and its force moving through it at a wonderful slow rhythm. A hum glided through the air.
When the next few notes began to flow out of his instrument, the view around him began to change. No longer was he in a room of four walls, surrounded by overly-priced equipment all glaring at him with the sort of judgement a head teacher would give to a pupil. He was now away in a land whereby everything mechanical dissolved into the sunlight he felt around him. The sunlight which did not exist in reality but did exist where the musician was.
He carried on plucking the notes, feeling the rhythm of his playing and becoming one with his instrument until his momentum hit its climax as the song began to rumble down to silence again.
‘Excellent, you can stop there. Let us listen back through it’, said the producer.
The musician stopped for a moment, observing what he had created. Like an artist he had painted a world around him. The distant views were clear and perfect. A freshness was in the air and he could feel the breeze that moved the hills of sand. Each grain, he felt, was a fragment of his being. An element of his playing, which now had formed into great dunes of musical wonder.