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- Profile created: July 2006
- 'Welcome to the Silent Quarter'
- Me, Myself, and I
- Everything must have an end and to progress or advance in any way you must know where you are going. Sometimes though, we can become so immersed in searching for the path that leads us to our destination, that we forget that the hardest part of the journey is finding where to begin.
By being alive (in the sense that we construct it, compose it and try our best to control it) music is the most elusive path of all on which to start. So obsessed are we by the result of our endeavours that we forget what it is that made us want to take the first step.
Silent Quarter is the beginning, where it ends, we don't know, and we're not sure if we'll ever know, but as long as you enjoy the journey then our existence is justified.
So if you want to join us, welcome to the Silent Quarter.
'If you're not practising, somebody else is and they'll be ready to step up to the plate when your opportunity comes'
Silent Quarter had a good practise session last night, apart, of course, from Brian's guitar being decapitated by an exhaust. [Insert minutes silence here]
It's early stages, but (look away now if you are easily ill) it's like when you waited for your first pubic hairs; the joy of just getting them and then getting them out there for the world to see followed swiftly by the realisation and imense dissapointment that they just kept growing to the extent that now you have to cut, shave, wax or even plat them just to keep them under control.
My point, and there is one, is that songs, like pubes, if left unchecked can grow out of control with horrendous results.A couple of times last night I felt songs getting away from us, becoming something they were never intended to be, but we were, for the first time I can remember, diplomatic enough to reign them (and me it must be said) in.
I never thought I'd say this, but I like democracy.
1 Comment 278 weeks
Not so long ago, I almost gave up on music. I told myself it wasn't what I wanted to do; that somehow writing about it would feel just a fulfilling. I was wrong, of course. Writing about music is great, but in the words of someone who was clearly stoned at the time, it’s a bit like dancing about architecture; sure it can be pretty, sometimes powerful, but at the end of the day, it pales into insignificance in comparison to the music itself.
Around the same time as I started to see my mistake, three of my closest and most talented friends also began to take a renewed interest in creating architecture and not just dancing about it. Meetings were called, guitars dusted down, lyrics and melodies painfully poured over, all in the name of creating that single moment where you listen back to a piece of music, cradle it like a new born and say to yourself, ‘The fear, the pain, they were all worth it.’
Silent Quarter will be making their return/debut (depending on whether you went to ITT or not!) very soon. Practising/writing is going well and we’re not far away from having what we need to get into a studio to record an EP. At the moment, and without sounding too pretentious (no sniggering down the back), we’re like a fresh spring, having only just broken free of the layers of earth that have kept us trapped for too long. Springs turn into streams, turn into rivers and make their way headlong to the vast, endless expanse of the ocean. It’s an exciting destination, and hopefully we can enjoy the journey just as much as the arrival. If we do, you’re sure to hear the benefits.
4 Comments 278 weeks
There once was a boy who had a dream. One day he wanted to write a song that would genuinely stop someone in their tracks and make them forget what they were supposed to being doing with themselves for the rest of that day. That boy didn't want to be Elliot Smith or Jeff Buckley though and so he set about putting a band in place that would take his ideas and random moments of inspiration and mould them into something worthy of your ears.
The thing is, it didn't work. Why; most likely because he was too selfish to actually give anyone else any control. When it was clear that it wasn't working he did the mature thing and picked up his ball and walked home, leaving everyone else with nothing to play with with except a few empty cans.
However, recent events, involving weddings, hospitals and open top buses have reignited something inside him and that boy feels ready to become a man, to step out of the shadows and to do those things that he once thought he wasn't good enough to do. He's still not good enough, but he has people around him that are, and he would be very grateful if they were willing to give him another chance and maybe see if the ¿kid with a conscience? actually can grow up.
Ponder, ponder, ponder....
0 Comments 297 weeks