April. And it’s very crazy here. There were several moments on Tuesday when I was forced to go into that little hermit shell that I built for myself when I was about 3, where I stand apart and alone for an everlasting moment while the cogs of the world click round in slow motion. First off I got a call from the courier company to say that the new desk furniture was on the way. He was half way to me from Cork. I hadn’t expected him; in fact I’d told the supplier to hold off until I could be sure of getting some help… and because I still wanted to use the old desk until the moment that the new one got here.
So; I was put in a position. This was the day after another guy had actually arrived with it in a big truck but said he couldn’t get down our lane, blah ..blah, being overprotective of his truck, when I’ve seen bigger trucks get round the corner. He wouldn’t leave any of the smaller pieces because he said that the whole delivery must remain as one. And just the two of us had no chance of unloading an item that heavy. Blah.
So I watched the desk drive away.
Back to the future. So I’m being held to ransom by the next guy, who’s in a van, and half way to me.. asking me whether I can get some locals to help me with the unloading. I tell him I’ll ring him back if I can get anyone. I have a quick think… and I ring my friend Johnny Fitzgerald, who is 24 and a brilliant pianist and general all round good guy. He tells me he’ll come; I ring the courier back and tell him to proceed.
Johnny arrives with FOUR mates, all well known Klonites, but that’s another story. Shortly after, the van arrives. He backs up to the studio door and we begin to unload. With six of us it’s easy. Then Johnny suggests that we should set it up there and then. In position. . . . I look at the old desk. In it’s place. Sat there, where it’s been for 10 years now. My old friend of half a dozen records and many moments of meditation and solitude and fun. I stop. I think for a moment. I am conscious of everyone stopping.
I tell Johnny that I’ve got something on the D-160 that I’m learning and that I’ll have to just take off there. We all realise that I’ve made the decision. To tear my dear old studio apart. There and then. I turn the masterlink on. And half a dozen effects. My hands move slowly as I turn the old mixer on for the last time in my space/life. Slow motion. I clear the bar at 7 feet. The crowd is silent. As usual…
admin on April 26th 2001 in Uncategorized