April Twenty-Two

A long long time ago, about three or four whole years ago, I’d composed a tiny, quarter-finished, whimsical ghost of the beginnings of a song. And nothing would have come of it, except I happened to record the riff with C and he happened to do some of his electronic musical things to it and he happened to turn it into something slightly strange and, in my opinion, something really really  nice.

A little bit later, C’s comp crashed and he lost the file, and we never finished the song. We can’t really ever record it again and get the same vibe and the same sounds because we honestly wouldn’t know how to do it. There’s inverted guitar sounds in there, and voices talking and laughter and random ambient sounds and just.. things. Things that happen randomly with no practice or plan. Things that fall into place of their own accord when you’re not looking and just all quietly make sense and sing together. Like music.

I thought of it recently and dug it out from within the debris of my downloads folder and listened to it a couple of times. And today I let it play on loop and got my violin out and tried to play along with it a little bit. And it worked! It worked quite nicely, to my surprise.

I can’t play nicely enough to let you listen to it yet: a violin is no joke and I think I will be 50 before I can play it good. But, since I’m not singing in this song, and not playing anything but a guitar and not sucking at it either, I thought I’d put all half of it up here.

I think this is the first time I’m actually putting up a song of my own on this blog. I think it’s partly because I’m less shy now than I used to be, and partly because I understand WordPress better than I did a few years ago. And also, of course, because it’s not a song that involves singing.

So listen to it, Zonk, and if you happen to like it, remember to let me know. And also remember, I only made the original riff and recorded some guitar pieces. C did the rest of it.

Love always,
Kitu.

PS: Also let me know if the link is broken or something. I have my doubts about it.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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