Received, directed, blindfolded, enveloped, bottled at sea.
Pulled from behind doors – the belted box and the two-piece system of loud sound. One of two channels gives the wink, the other sleeps. The guitar case slides out from under the bed, while a spiderweb of lights and lines straighten, cabling underneath.
The amp buzzes, the chair creaks, the notes get mixed up. My interface stares me down, my headphones trick the foreground, my rhythm unravels and spools on the floor. I look at my fingers and ask for clarity – they wander away and come back, familiar and new, automatic, childish. Eventually the red glow flashes in reverse.
I’ve finished some solo guitar recordings, done fairly free hand and with minimal structure.
Can you lend your ears? I appreciate the listening, sincerely.