Homesick for One Day

Having gone a number of months without loosing our female singer, mainly because I tricked her into a relationship, and approaching some semblance of being a normal band, The Sweet Ordeal decided it was about time to record some music. You can't go this long without eventually trying to force a C15 cassette into someone's hand after a gig.

Hannah had found an engineer/producer who was offering a good deal for a day's recording and this gave us the impetus to dip into our pockets and splash the cash. No crowdfunding, sourcing or begging here. Though if you want to buy us another day in the studio, I'll happily sleep with you or a loved one, a pet etc.. Is that how it works?

John joins blur. December 2015. Photo: Hannah Beaumont

So, on an overcast day in December, myself, John and Hannah found ourselves in one of those rickety mews courtyards tucked away in Hove, the type that people look at and say "it's like we're in Berlin". I.e. falling down and covered in graffiti, but in an arty way. I just love what they've done with the peeling green paint on splintered wooden door. Must get that for the kid's playroom.

Josh was the sound man in more ways than one. He seemed young and on the ball: the opposite of us in fact. He said he'd been recording since he was 14. I was tempted to answer "Oh, two years then" but that would have been deeply patronising, My Beautiful Intelligent Readers Of This Blog. To be fair Josh worked us hard and efficiently and felt able to direct us too, mainly by telling me to keep away from the shaker.

Over the previous few months we'd been rehearsing five songs: Where Do We Go From Here?, Pity, In Sun Bled Yellow, Feet of Clay and Slow Down. They were a combination of old and new tunes, with the last two being from right at the dawn of time, Ordeal wise, before John and I had embarked on a string of female singers desperately wanting to find family related excuses to avoid actual regular rehearsing and performing.

Hannah strung out. December 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

The first two songs were the first creations of our new and hopefully last line-up (unless The Staves ever need a position as a backing singers. Bring a hairbrush, Camilla). With Hannah gradually emerging as a fully functioning band member, these songs developed differently from previous ones.

Though the foundations were much the same as before with John or me writing the music and me on the lyrics, Hannah has wonderfully created combinations of bass, cello, keyboard, glock and vocal harmony parts to build upon the type of song writing compositions we had started to work on In Sun Bled Yellow with last-but-one-singer Sam. I.e. with more complex and dynamic structures that moved us away from John's singer-songwriter approach and my simple pop style. Simple pop style? Sounds like an old bluesman. Simple Pop Style sings his latest hit "Yo Mama Gone Left Me For God". Anyway, I digress. Hannah has enabled us to jump up another level.

What has also pushed us on was the purchase of a Casiotone 405 keyboard, an 80's classic (much like Hannah) bought mainly because it has a lovely wooden effect veneer finish. It was bought from our pal - and local folk hero - Mark from The Self Help Group, who reluctantly gave it up because it was hard to syncopate with the built-in beats. He probably also liked the lovely wooden veneer effect finish too. It is really nice. Although limited, because many of it's options just aren't all that (no, not Mark, the keyboard. He's top) it did seem to expand our horizons. I think the Casiotone has become a part of the conversation when it comes to structuring a song in a way, say, the glocks aren't. By that I mean the keyboard is considered each time, even if eventually it is not used on the track. And did I mention the lovely wooden veneer effect finish?

Nick being frank as Chairman of the (Key) Board. December 2015. Photo: Hannah Beaumont 

So back to the main mews item: Homesick Studios. Both John and Hannah had experience of recording, whereas I was wet behind the ears. However, despite their seen-it-all-before world weariness, they didn't make the canny decision to bring their slippers. Though only I made anything of that, the fools. Perhaps that is why I ended up in the little 'air lock', not because of the loudness of my uke (the official reason), but because I had comfortable feet (the conspiracy theory reason).

The studio was just about swing-a-cat-able, but one would have felt more comfortable spinning around with a gerbil or even a hamster, on account of the latter's shorter tail. No animal was swung by the way, RSPCA.

Nick reflecting on a job well done. December 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

This meant that our intention of recording as live was dead in the water, as the studio was not big enough to have us all in together without each instrument being picked up by everyone else's microphone. So we recorded in the more traditional but time consuming manner of separating instruments and vocals. The result? We only laid down two and a half tracks rather than the hoped for four to five. Quality wise we also hoped for a sell at gigs product, but after listening to some very rough cuts, we probably have more of an old school demo that we can give out for free. Still, pretty pleased with our first crack at recording.

In hindsight we were perhaps naïve about what we could achieve, but we learnt a lot, which in no particular order was:

1. Slippers definitely help.
2. A ukulele is proportionally the loudest instrument in the world. Ever.
3. Bring bog roll.
4. Don't have the slightest cold if you can avoid it.
5. You can never mug it up enough in the Phil Collins' manner in studio based photos.
6. Eating baguettes can be picked up by mics three meters away.
7. You can't help feeling a little bit cool.
8. It would probably cost around two grand to record an album if you are hiring the studio and technician.
9. Leave your shoes at the door, not your ego.
10. Bring slippers.

So, in the encroaching winter darkness we left the studio after a long day for a rewarding half pint in the local boozer - parking restrictions ruining our hoped for Lemmy-style shenanigans - and the need to return to finish vocals on one track the next day.

Sound guy. The Sweet Ordeal with Josh. December 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

Josh managed to put together some rudimentary mixes which show how far we have come as a band as a relatively new three piece, and how far we could go. Here's looking forward to seeing where that 'go' will take us.

Now, about that two grand. Any lonely pets out there?

Dire Straights and Ladders

In the classic version of the board game snakes and ladders, there are 12 snakes and 8 ladders. With our continuous quest to have a female singer long enough to start gigging, being in The Sweet Ordeal has often felt like we’ve been attacked by a very slippery python.

We of course, did manage it once: gigging that is, not fending off strangulation. Sam, with her big bluesy voice, took me and John to the bridge in the form of the park festival Spring in the Patch on a wet and windy day last year. Throw in three of our kitchen gigs around the same-ish time and we were a proper band of sorts. But on the Castle Stage we were for real. We even had photos, taken by a woman who will appear later in this tale.

Naturally, this had to come to an end. Shirley Bassey sang about history repeating itself, but Sam let her feet rather than her vocal chords demonstrate those prescient lyrics. She did, you see, have the temerity of becoming pregnant and then wanting to spend more time with her family. It made sense as I used the band to spend less time with mine.

John and I tried to dissuade her because she was so good and laughed like a navvy. Like a lovelorn girl waving her sweetheart off to the trenches, we even said we’d wait, which we did, despite reading those letters from the front line hinting that maybe our darling had dallied with a few French fancies whilst on leave. 

Light work. John. May 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

Eventually we were caught between two stools, if one stool was a snake and the other a ladder, and we regretfully accepted that Sam was not going to come back. Though here I’ll stop with the war metaphor because I don’t think it’s appropriate to compare the beautiful mother of two gorgeous, young sons to a syphilis infected farm boy love-struck and living with a whore in a Parisian garret.

Maybe we were not ruthless enough and the months of inactivity were frustrating, but I can look back at that time and feel we had to see if Sam would come back, because she was so much a part of our developing sound and I was keen to lyrically work with her style. Anyway, thanks Sam, you were wonderful.

This took The Sweet Ordeal literally back to square 1 (are you sure there are 8 ladders?). We were back on the Gumtree jamboree of trying to find another singer. Like last time most of our enquiries were from teenage girls and young women seemingly not put off by singing boy girl vocals with quite old men. In my mind, with my hair colour we were moving from a George Clooney acceptability to Bernie Ecclestone susceptibility.

Taking the Hiss. Nick. May 2015. Photo: Hannah Beaumont

Eventually we took a chance on Lucy and her modern, folksy YouTube appeal and found her a warm and engaging presence. Naturally, once we offered her the gig she decided to spend more time with her family; another small boy taking our woman away. All the best Lucy and we hope we’ll see you perform one day in the future.

There were never any ladders were there?

This was probably my hardest period in the band. We were getting fed up with bringing new people in, giving them the opportunity to shape our sound and then losing them before you could even say ‘open mic night’. I fluctuated from me and John going it alone, trying to Gumtree it all over again or just giving the whole thing up.

What wasn’t thought about was a little gem shining right under our tearful eyes and snotty noses. You see, I live with a wonderful woman who had still stuck around, despite seeing and photographing the Castle Stage gig. Intelligent, funny, sexy and a musician, Hannah once played in a rock band called Vaudeville (the type that all look in different directions when being photographed) and was desperate to start playing again.

Bass Instinct. Hannah. May 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

Hannah had never really expressed an interest in folk and I had only ever really heard her sing along to our shared love Marillion. Nothing wrong with that: so do I. But I wouldn’t give myself a folk gig based on passionate Fish impressions. However, she did play the bass and the cello, the latter instrument catnip for those who want to write wistful and melancholic songs whilst wearing checked shirts and hats.

Not wanting to let this opportunity go I suggested to John in our post-Lucy malaise that we let Hannah try out as a backing musician. John was tentative, understandably so, about bringing in the girlfriend for some Yoko style shenanigans. Now I am a fan of Yoko, but even I didn’t think we needed someone taping a sanitary towel over her face and caterwauling. We’d leave that to the audience if they didn’t like our set.

Instead, Hannah has been a revelation. Not only has she given us a rhythm section she has thrown a voice into the ring, helped us to create more harmonies and complex song structures, especially with our newer material. With her tattoos and tricorn hat, Hannah will also add to our visual appeal too, without the need of Always and gaffer tape.

Fret No More. Three Again. June 2015. Photo: Nick McMaster

In another famous board game, one can occasionally be told not to pass go, which perhaps better sums up the experience of being in The Sweet Ordeal. Thanks to Hannah though, John and I have finally got out of jail. It feels like the band is now moving round the board and who knows, maybe we’ll win second prize in a beauty competition. That would be a sight for sore eyes, but now the stage is set for us to give something to the ears. See you later snakes.