The Sound of You - The story of the making of an album in Four Books.

Chapter 13: Last full moon - Can't stop the music (Part 2)

Jan waxes and wanes ...

Goshen Fields Tennessee

I used to drive the long way back from the store to go through the fields. Most had been paved over but not these ones, brown and red top soil with crops that changed the colour of the landscape every year. Now I walk back from the shops but in Tennessee USA you didn't walk you drove a truck. Mine was red.

Blaxhall, Suffolk

Living in Suffolk I am often reminded of those rural ploughed fields of Tennessee. It was there that I saw my first red moon, watched eclipses of the moon, walked around in the blue moonlight with indigo shadows and fireflies dancing in a surreal frozen lunar landscape.

The moon rising behind the oak tree became the logo of English Valley Music.

I became aware of her power and place in time and space.The beauty of her reflections mirrored in women's cycles. The constancy of her appearance every month.

Driving back one Saturday night I saw the full moon hanging over the fields and realised this was the last full moon of summer and everything was about to change again and so the story of the song written with Chico unfolded. The celebration of the harvest and the coming autumn, the end of the old and the beginning of the new mixed with the pagan earthiness of dancing under the last full moon of summer.

And as the love affair ended we celebrated the life of a love that never dies - it just gets buried, sprinkling seeds that wait for the sun to replenish, renew and make it grow again. A lot can happen in 13 moons.

Likewise in 13 chapters - the Sound of You continues ...

Estelle hears voices...

The Eclipse of 9th January 2001 in Sterkfontein when the moon turned to mud stays with me. Transformed rust.

Today the sun was too bright and there was sticky expectation in the hot east coast breeze from KwaZulu Natal. Now in the silence as the last phase shrouds, the wind is holding its breath.

The Vlei and the reflection of the earth's shadow down below shifts an inky blank ocean circling slow motion three dimensional over the pale valley.

They are two, crowded round an oil lamp and the dull glow is coming from behind a thorny Acacia tree to my right. No shadows. Speech bullets taking aim. Dialect, tone, inflection.

What now? I know I heard them. I know I saw them. Was I tapping into a source that has always been there since before it happened?

The next day I go climbing. Stretching my arms out and exhaling, staring and squinting at the peaks where the noonday sky drips hot blue onto steaming rock - the lamp is lying under a Protea tree.

Chico says...

Well, I've been doing a lot of traveling and this time it was very hard for me to meet our Wednesday deadline because I was playing in a place in Germany where I did not have access to the internet. One might think that this is unusual in this day and time but there are still pockets out there where technology has not fully been infused in daily life. The wonderful thing is that we had an incredible concert in this small place, we filled the hall and brought music to people who were extremely appreciative and receptive. After the concert we had a meal that was one of the great culinary experiences in my life.

On the one hand I stressed at the feeling of helplessness of not being able to meet my responsibility of posting on time this week and letting my partners down, on the other hand I found myself feeling as if I had gone back in time to where these things were just not a concern, the most imminent concern of those around me was the soundcheck, the concert and to make great music. Fortunately the concert was of the highest level and that in the midst of all of this I came to realize our topic for this week: "Can't Stop The Music," things may be delayed but they will continue.

Well, here I am, late but enthusiastic with a thought: "You don't always get what you want when you want it but when it comes it's always right on time."

Chapter 12: Evolution - Can't stop the music (Part 1)

Chico reflects...

Well, I'm here in Vienna at one of the most historic jazz clubs in the world, Jazzland. There are only a few and here have performed some of the greatest musicians to walk the face of the earth. I am honored to be in the company of such great artists. Considering where I am now and how I've arrived it's clear that change is something that happens everyday and my viewpoint, my sound, my abilities, my concept and my countenance are all part of my evolution. I realize that my continued evolution is something that I accept with an open mind and will endeavor to embrace the positive in my continuing journey even in the not knowing the destination.

Estelle revisits The Cradle of Humankind...


Early morning coffee in the Magaliesburg near the Cradle of Humankind

Our human uniqueness stems from a vast evolutionary turn, from a time that still keeps us guessing. It is deeply rooted in our DNA. Maybe us human beings think we are programmed to own as much as we can lay our hands on and our political and religious beliefs are just an attempt to hide our territorial genes. Maybe that is our downfall. Our ancient primal instinct urges us to make borders and build fences, to keep out those who are a threat to our tribe and our genetic heritage. Survival. Maybe it's time to break down the barriers and evolve beyond our self imposed limitations. Maybe, maybe, maybe it might just happen...one day. Maybe not.

The concept of evolution has me thinking about my time spent in the Magaliesburg situated near the Cradle of Humankind in South Africa where some of the earliest human remains have supposedly been found. I look at the porcupines quills on the table where I keep my red-brown soil in a jar and my stones on the window sill and I am in that place where the land might grow back but for more bone collectors. This room in this hut was where I discovered how fragile human beings are, when faced with the reality of creatures who are attuned to a habitat we have mostly forgotten about or seldom live in. Another story for another day.

The lodge near the Cradle of Humankind

One night in our tiny lodge halfway up the mountain where history is not inclined to repeat itself, rain came down on the corrugated rooftop like a migrating herd of wildebeest. Sitting on wooden hand carved stools, we blinked in the candle light and shouted above the thick sheets of water connecting with metal. The mountains seemed like an optical illusion every time lightning speared blue flashes across the sky. Hip-high grass waved their skeletal arms in the wind before falling flat in the storm.
Next day when the rain has stopped, we walk outside in the morning sun to inspect the damage. Once the mud has dried on our boots it will become hard like stale fruitcake. The bath is at the foot of the mountain in the compound and I want to go there now! It will be a while yet though, before we can risk any wheels rolling down beyond the slope through the thickened earth that is now glue and when we do, we get stuck in the mud, twice.

Our bath in the bush

Three days later when we finally do brave the slow-drying clay-like sludge, why should I be surprised at the Mozambican beauty sliding over rock and stone on our now 'notorious for sump damage' driveway?

Hand and foot slam down on both brakes with such force that I smack my forehead on the low windscreen and my lit cigarette flies into KD's lap. The sun looks like sticky spider webs shimmering off the snake’s back. Two metres in front of us and lying across the full width of the road, a Mozambican Spitting Cobra from the Western Cape is luxuriating in the late afternoon glaze. No idea how they migrated from the Western Cape to Gauteng...these snakes. Our Eve is motionless. The soft top of the land rover is down and the hooded one is catching a ray or two in front of the vehicle.

Why am I drawn to Eve as the example of 'wronged woman' in the form of a shape shifting serpent? In what context? This is no time to start musing about Biblical analogies that have mostly seemed to me like an unattractive jumble of misleading fables. Most doctrines, religious and otherwise have seemed this way to me.

Anubis and the Scarab

Now face to face with the concept as possibility, maybe I am just desperate to justify the hidden meaning behind our predicament. Living so close to nature does this to you. Searching for symbols behind every rock and tree and lifting our eyes to the sky for guidance, each moment is planned around whatever totem might appear on your path that day. Every day has its' own symbiosis when you are looking for a reason and if there isn't one you make it up!

A well balanced, slender skittle, she seems to be made from rubber. Fully erect when ready to strike, well over a metre tall when aiming for the eyes (always the eyes), pinpoint precise. Her venom she is able to spit up to three metres away and it might make you go blind. Her bite causes tissue breakdown and possible paralysis, often resulting in death.

The 'enlightened ones' speak of fear being the biggest destroyer of all. Well...face to face with our silky one gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight I am pleased to let you know that my human fear will hopefully ensure my human survival. I'll just remember to hide that fear and close my eyes when the spit comes flying from those fangs!

We exhale quietly. Are the sides of the landie high enough off the ground to protect our eyes should any snake juice come shooting our way? What’s there to risk by doubting? Fear is a breeding ground for paranoia and natural instinct. That instinct is saying put foot on the gas and go!

The land rover with roof top up

Starting the engine (which tends to stall a few times before taking) would mean an eye-popping rev on the accelerator from my friend behind the wheel. Snakes and sudden loud vibrations don’t go so well together but there's no need for us to contemplate the 'worst-case scenario' at this very moment! Turning to the back for a quick glance, we are both considering what would happen if the snake slid under the vehicle and decided to surprise us from behind. Ah yes, the imagination is now playing out it's own little melodrama at full tilt! The canvas soft top is bound with leather straps and securely buckled. No can do. We sit. We wait.

This hot afternoon dragging along slowly is alive with insects and a single fly circling above my head sounds like a helicopter. Do we dodge what’s playing dead or do we try and miss one of the most dangerous and highly strung snakes in South Africa? We look at each other once and then without a word KD starts up the engine and we put foot! The slippery one wriggles out the way and into the grass.

Historical cribs have a ribcage scattering thousands who to this day are still living barefoot in plywood shacks and the events that moulded these circumstances you can't call evolution.

Jan plays the changes

The only constant in life is change.

Everything changes as we evolve and grow.
It's all a matter of perception
and interpretation.

The songs Chico and I wrote are now part of Estelle.
The melodies and words have taken on another life
evolving into the sound of you and you.

And you, the listener, will hear it another way -
through different speakers, headphones, earbuds, computers and sound systems, all vibrating and adding frequencies.
Different meanings will emerge as memories get triggered by words and chords, melodies and the reflections of sound in different rooms, cars and halls all mixed with the background noise of everyday life.

Yes, nothing stays the same.

The only constant in life is change.

Chapter 11: In her eyes - 16a - A beginning

Chico travels in Paris...

Well I'm on the road still, this time in Paris and traveling the metro etc. Interesting this wonderful city is where there were so many artists and for purposes of this blog, vocalist who came thru here to make their mark, ladies like Josephine Baker, Edith Piaf and Dee Dee Bridgewater. When you listen to them sing you realize how the songs they sang seemed as if no one else could sing them. There were many more of course and I believe there will be many more. But now we have Estelle, who has that same quality of song ownership and interpretation as if there could not be anyone else who could sing the songs she sings and we write.

Paris Metro