Just in case you haven’t had enough of my recent demands for fundraising cash, what with the Resonance FM auction and all (with thanks to Mr. Nick Stone for a very generous winning bid on my tape-loop editing workshop), I’d like to draw to your attention another most worthy cause; this time set amongst the seedy underbelly of Los Angeles, California (rather than just opposite the Pret-A-Mange on Borough High Street). You may recall a few weeks ago my mentioning the publication of Drink The Rest Of That, a collection of short stories by Foggy-collaborator and genius raconteur Guy J. Jackson? Well, a few weeks is a long time in Hollywood, possibly the only city in the world -as I discovered last year- where you can be heckled for walking; so now Guy has another project on the go, as the writer for a contemporary film-noir currently in development entitled ‘Day For Night’:
(Obviously this video is embedded from the Kickstarter page, so instructions to scroll down and sideways should be taken with a pinch of Hollywood salt)
If Alfred Hitchcock, Raymond Chandler, and a desperate actress/waitress had a love child, it would be Day For Night. A tightly wound psychological thriller set in present-day Hollywood, this film examines the fine line between nurturing a dream and fueling an obsession—and what happens when you cross it. Populated with distinct and dynamic characters, Day For Night comes from an award-winning team of filmmakers who have been inspired by the L.A. Noir genre.
Fans of Guy’s amiable surrealism and dark, twisted comedy will already have a pretty good idea of what to expect of this collaboration with Tasmanian director Michael Chrisoulakis. Those wishing to learn more can find further information on the film’s Kickstarter page, as well as Facebook or Twitter accounts. The film is already partially shot and has reached 50% of it’s funding target, but there’s still quite a way to go on this ‘all or nothing’ Kickstarter campaign and just over two weeks to reach their goal, so please go to their funding page and just do whatever feels good and right.
OK, that’s the hard sell over. Here’s another story from Drink The Rest Of That as a reward:
My first post in almost a month and I’m afraid it’s another rushed one, mostly playing catch-up and paying some Howlround-related dues. Firstly, Chris and I would like to express our sincere thanks once again to the amazing JP and Ale of 4’33” Cafe for not only hosting us in Barcelona back in August, but for turning the results into this beautiful short film posted onto Facebook. A wonderful souvenir and a perfect introduction to the Howlround live experience! Please enjoy:
Secondly, The Quietus has published a very entertaining review of this year’s Beacons Festival by that most affable gent Jonny Mugwump, including some decidedly favourable comments about Howlround’s late-night tape-loop contribution. You are warmly encouraged to read it in full on their website here, but for our immediate purposes I’ll just modestly quote the flattering bit:
“…[Howlround were] by far one of the strangest sets of the weekend as well as being one of the highlights […] uncanny, mesmerising, difficult and sublime. Utilising vintage reel to reel tape decks, Weaver manipulates physical loops of tape that Robin feeds into the machines. The utterly indescribable sound however is lent extra gravitas through the almost theatrical physical requirements of the performance. There are giant loops of tape hanging everywhere and the delicacy and intricacy of handling them lends the set an overwhelmingly eerie atmosphere. Howlround live is a séance – the act of channelling rendered in physical form. Suitably sonically infected, the night takes on strange shapes and you sit down with new friends knowing that this is exactly what a festival should be about”.
While Mr. Mugwump naturally has our gratitude, it’s also a relief to hear he survived long enough in order to file his report – I’m told the weather really did get rather biblical after we left. In addition I feel I must apologise to him and to all of you for the slight grammatical error I caused while tweeting about it. Promise it won’t happen again:
— Howlround (@Howlroundmusic) October 1, 2014
Finally, my thanks to the lovely and ever-patient Kaitlyn Spillane and my other stateside friends for an incredible three weeks of American adventuring. From the burning forests of Yosemite, to the salt planes of the Mojave desert, the ghost towns, abandoned hillside military encampments, empty motels, ‘wave organs’ (more of which later) – we covered it all. There’s a huge amount of recordings to wade through and it may be quite some time before I’m ready to share anything, but share it I certainly will in due course. In the meantime, please enjoy this recording of that most iconic part of San Francisco’s soundscape, the foghorns of the Golden Gate Bridge. The extract below was made in the densest fog I’ve ever encountered – despite standing directly underneath the gigantic, bright-red, mile-long, 230 metre-high structure the bridge might as well have not been there at all. I don’t even think it’s too much of an exaggeration to say that you can hear the fog in this recording – certainly not when you consider the fact that sound does travel differently in foggy conditions. Unfortunately, one sound that travelled rather too well was that of a nearby trio of wastrels who were so entranced with this mighty display of the elements that they decided to chinwag incessantly about nothing throughout all of my efforts to capture it. Ah, well, sometimes you have to let the world in.
Incidentally, fellow Hitchcock devotees might like to know that this was taken from almost the exact same location as the one from which Kim Novak threw herself into the foaming waters of the bay during one of Vertigo‘s more dramatic moments. Listen to the booming of the foghorn over the thunder of the seawash here and I think you’ll get a real sense of just what a poor decision this would have proved:
They certainly wouldn’t have got much filming done on the day of my visit, though nowadays the heightened security measures would have prevented the need for any heroics on the part of Jimmy Stewart. What price freedom, eh?