Drunk after watching the footy with my nephews and dad downstairs, I zig-zagged upstairs with an envelope in my hand with the words ‘rocks in your head’ scribbled on. The English translation of a scalding from mum tickled me.
I switched on the tele, and on it, Hitchcock’s ‘Vertigo’ triggered my routine. I snatched at the guitar and took to the G Minor chord to see what it had to say for itself.
The pile of clothes next to me, waiting to be folded away neatly into my chest of drawers at the back of the room, looked at me from time to time. But I ignored them and continued to play with words.
Tom loved the song. We sat down in my loft and he started working his shit out. ‘Make it sound like a spiral staircase’. Tom looked at me and said ‘What the fuck do I do with those words man.’
His fingers reached for notes that were beyond his grasp. But he persevered. And he talked himself through it. Cajoling himself, deriding himself, provoking himself, questioning his ability… and then he talked to me about what he was trying to do. I nodded. ‘Just get it done, eh?’ And then his fingers got there. And his quiet celebrations poorly masked the jubilation that was so evident behind his greasy mop.
In the rehearsal space, Zaki picked out the bassline easily with youthful enthusiasm. Sarb and Tom had their ‘A Team’ conversation and took the scream to trigger a funeral procession. A ferocious hip hop inspired beat was the bed for a haunting and violent guitar part that came out of nowhere and set up home in our heads for months afterwards.
You can listen to Mother Said on Spotify now.
