Tag Archives: Cocteau Twins
I was talking to a woman at a concert about the extraordinary American singer-songwriter, Neko Case. I said, her voice on record is my benchmark, the definition of bell-like precision with passion. The woman laughed and said, to her, Neko represents the ultimate raw, one-take beauty-in-imperfection voice. We laughed. Our visions of this artist, and her great gift to music, were so different.
This difference cuts to the very heart of why my second Wasp Summer record has taken 3 ½ years and counting. I've sat on the bass and drum tracks we recorded in February 2015, sporadically adding guitars, organs, sounds and harmonies, revising the production notes. Not including recovering from depression, breakups, financial issues and the dissolution of the band itself, the thing I have been stalling on was recording the vocals.
I have lived with this set of songs for so long. The oldest song, Lights On Eyes Open, dates to 2005, and the rest between 2010 and 2015. Perhaps surprisingly, they still thrill me. I feel I captured what I wanted to say on each track and that it's a cohesive album.
It's the responsibility of transmitting the soul of each song in the most direct, most emotionally available manner that has been the mental block for me. Unlike the ephemerality of live performance, the permanence of the album vocals became terrifying.
As I recorded at home, in my safest space, I loved the takes I got, but as I listened back, my fear kicked in. An unstoppable internal critic picked apart every phrase for pitching errors, inauthenticity, hollowness, inadequacy. The reference songs I used to guide the mood of each take (mainly Cocteau Twins, Pretenders, Motels, Fleetwood Mac, Mirah, Kate Bush, Linda Ronstadt, PJ Harvey, Triffids and Divinyls) became towering and inaccessible.
I tried editing together 'perfect' vocals from the various takes I recorded. Something I have tried twice before. The result is always the same, a dead-sounding vocal line. I rerecorded them over and over. I tried different microphones. I reminded myself to be kind. I left the songs alone for a year. Nothing made me comfortable with leaving these vocals to posterity. I stopped talking about the record. Despaired.
I feel ashamed of this fear and delay. I'm strong psychologically. I finish what I start. Don't I? This is my novel, my movie, my creative heart. I'm a trained singer. I've been doing this for 27 years. They're my damn songs. I don't know if this is common. I've hear about a million different approaches, including the singer of a famous German band who happily plays to 20,000 people a night but needs everyone to leave the studio when he records vocals.
My heart says be one-take Neko. My head says be bell-like, perfect Neko, and a relentless perfectionist, and when will you ever get there?
Earlier this year, a friend, and the engineer who recorded the original bass and drum tracks, asked me what was happening with the record. I told him I was stalled on the vocals, and couldn't get perspective on them. I said I needed to save some money, hire a nice mic or find a producer to help me get good takes and finish the record. I told him I wanted someone to tell me if it was good and honest, or if they thought I could dig a bit deeper. I just wanted some support. It's hard work finishing a record alone.
He offered a lifeline. I help him with vocals and backing vocals on his record in exchange for him recording mine and acting as producer, talking me through the rest of the recording. So far, we've done two songs, and I've revised the entire album, replacing or adding guitars, sounds and keys.
I'm still excited by the songs, and although the urge to pick apart my vocals is still there, I like the energy of the takes we've done. We've found the microphone combination I'll use for the whole record – a Neumann condenser and an AKG pencil mic. Check out those beauties!
We're going for no more than three takes of each track, and I'm hoping the relaxed and supportive atmosphere will still my devilish urge to rip my own singing to shreds.
I feel confident that I'll both actually finish this record this year and have the money to mix, master and release it. Finally. I'd really, really like to have my albums available on vinyl.
Would you buy vinyl through a pre-order campaign on bandcamp? Would you prefer a CD or download?
I'd really appreciate if readers who can support me could let me know which format they're likely to choose. It takes some logistical planning and timing to put an album release together and deliver by the due date.
Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear from you.
– Samantha, Berlin.
Tags: album, anxiety, Berlin, blog, Chris Lastelle, Cocteau Twins, fear, Fleetwood Mac, home recording, home studio, inspiration, Linda Ronstadt, microphones, Mirah, Mitropa, music, Neko Case, new album, new music, news, perfectionism, PJ Harvey, Pretenders, recording, The Divinyls, The Motels, The Triffids, vocals, Wasp Summer, work
Categories 2018, album, Influences, Mitropa, recording, songs, studio, Wasp Summer, writing
Inspired by that facebook game where you list 10 important albums, I realised that many of my favourite albums are not the ones that shaped my music or songwriting directly.
I want to explore the albums that changed how I thought about my practice as a singer and songwriter, and that are direct influences on Mitropa, the Wasp Summer album I'm currently making.
Number 1 must be the Cocteau Twins masterpiece 'Heaven or Las Vegas'.
Oh, this album, beginning to end, blows my mind. In 1994, I escaped an increasingly dangerous relationship and was relieved to move into a sharehouse in Lismore with 4 other women, located above a veterinary surgery. Collectively and consciously, we explored ritual paganism, argued theology with the Mormons that came each week to save us, and smoked more weed than was strictly necessary. I saw some weird shit.
I started off living behind a makeshift curtain in the kitchen until a room became available. Then I moved into the least psychedelically-wallpapered of the rooms, affectionately known as the Triffid Room.
A lot of music that is important to me (Pink Floyd, PJ Harvey, the Clouds) came out of this room and this year, as did my first attempts at songwriting. Rachel the Cone Queen stole this record from her sister, but it lived for the entire year in my room where I attempted to rationalise its immense harmony while drifting off into its etheric spheres.
This album remains an act of divinity to me. The Cocteaus' perfect pop moment. The post-punk textures they had been developing all the way along, Liz Fraser's astonishing vocal style, the pulsing bass and drum machines, liquified into a weird, dreamy and pleasurable set of songs that blew open my expectations of what I could do, what the human voice could do, what guitars could sound like.
It was the precursor chemical to so much of the music that made my music sound the way it does. At least, most of what I did with The Mime Set and Wasp Summer was me aiming for this kind of freedom.
Upon reflection, Annie Lennox and Liz Fraser are largely responsible for the beautiful oddness of my sense of harmony.
Tags: Annie Lennox, Berlin, Cocteau Twins, cool, dream pop, Heaven or Las Vegas, indie rock, influences, inspiration, inspo, Lismore, Liz Fraser, Mitropa, music, Robin Guthrie, shoegaze, Simon Raymonde, songwriting, Wasp Summer, weed, wicca
Categories 2018, album, Berlin, Best of, crucial albums, Influences, music, Wasp Summer, writing