Blue Whale are the experimental, progressive, jazz inflected, difficult to classify band that I’ve played drums for since the our inception thirteen years ago. The band is coming to an end next month, and it has taken time to process this fact. I was in denial for weeks, but gradually acceptance and perspective emerges.
Our sophomore album, Last Immediate Images, was released in May this year. I created the track, Eight Acres, by layering field recordings that included birdsong, the soft striking of a water filled metal saucepan with a percussive mallet and hissing, gurgling rudimentary synthesisers. These were coupled with a voice note of stream of consciousness words that I intoned to my phone while wandering round our wild, atmospheric, family Christmas tree field at dusk. As vision became less distinct, out of focus thoughts and memories filled the gaps.
Lacking confidence in the validity of the words, heavy distortion and digital effects shrouded their clarity. Like an abstracted painting, conscious obfuscation permits each individual listener to tease out their own subjective meaning or associations.
These are the words:
Out here in the Christmas tree field, there’s a peace.
An echo of feeling, a memory of each tree that I’ve ever laid underneath, climbed, swung on.
A certain uneasiness as dusk falls,
Unseen wildlife, creak of branches, rustling.
Trees around are alive.
Recent discoveries of how trees look after each other, send each other nutrients.
Progress has been made cutting down the dense, impassable areas, there’s still lots to do and lots to keep on top of.
I’d like to sketch the trees, the dead brambles, the lines.
A special place. Okay that’s enough.
The track is available here:
John Macormac 