Friday, 22 August 2014

I DID IT MY WAY...

I hope this comes across okay, but I'm really proud of myself and my music.

I played two of the songs from my forthcoming 'Triad of Despair' ep live tonight at an open mic, and you could have heard a pin drop.  I don't think most people got it. A grown man growling depressing lyrics and thrashing away on a ukulele.  But I got it.  I have my sound now. Ruke is complete.

I really don't want to come across as being conceited, vain or arrogant, but something has shifted in me over the last few weeks.  I wrote the songs that have become 'Triad' about a month or so ago, and have been playing them fairly consistently since. Last week I recorded them outside in woodland with the wind blowing and birds singing, and they sound great. They sound right.  I tried one of them out in the attic this week. It sounded okay, but not as good.  I'm releasing the open air recordings.

Just before I started to sing this evening, I wondered if I'd growl or not.  I did, and again, it felt right.  It's my voice, and it fits Ruke.  My songs my way.  Not everyone is going to get them, but I know I'm doing them right.

Thanks for listening.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

AT HOME IN THE TREES

I found my sound at last. I stopped worrying and just went out and recorded some songs. Outdoors. Under trees with the wind blowing. It felt good. Right.

I stopped putting labels on my music and just played.


I've taken the same attitude with mastering. After I listened to the earlier versions of the songs, I realised I'd over processed them before I even mixed or mastered them. No wonder my recordings sounded rough. I'm learning all the time. I took the recordings from this week (in the trees...), reset the levels to zero, then did minimal tweaks on the vocals and left it at that. I left in all the wind noise, bird song, traffic (quiet country lane...fight). It just feels right.


The songs sound good. My playing is better and I like my vocals more. I hope you do too.


There's a video storyboarded in my head to film and edit next week, then I hope the songs will be out.




Friday, 18 July 2014

THE TRIAD OF DESPAIR...

See... misery and woe.

Hear... cries of pain.


Feel... madness descending.


When you encounter... The Triad of Despair!




























https://soundcloud.com/morgan-gleave/1-intro-demomp3

Thursday, 10 July 2014

THE CLERK...

The seemingly mountainous stacks of crisp paper forms towered around him.  Intended to be completed in triplicate, stamped, sorted and filed, a task that filled him with bilious dread.  Whilst others in the staff seemed oblivious to the fact that these forms had to be completed, he meekly took the eternally unremitting tide of bureaucracy. 

As the others filed out of the firm at the end of the day, he remained at his desk for hours, wading through pools of tedium.  When he felt enough had been achieved, he silently slipped from the building, not even the cleaners noticing him.  He was seemingly non-existent to all within the firm, even those at the lowest rung of existence.   

He simply walked home to make tea and escape a world that paid him no heed whatsoever. 


Tuesday, 8 July 2014

THE PUGILIST...

He had always fought.  Never because he was called out or picked upon, but because that was what he did best.  He fought.  Never fighting with aggression, always with an inner calm that was never broken.  Whilst his opponents taunted and cajoled, his gaze remained fixed in the middle distance, far removed from the arena of conflict. 

Though he grew older, and the fur upon his crown started to shine like fresh fallen snow, something inside him changed.  No opponent could defeat him, but the stare that was once calm and tranquil was now bleak and hopeless.  Only he knew that he needed to escape the cycle of violence that held him.  Money was not important to him.  Freedom was. 

Saturday, 5 July 2014

THE GRAVEDIGGER...

The eldest of the three, Bill didn't see himself as a patriarch.  He distanced himself from his younger siblings, preferring his own company and talking to his shovels.  It wasn't known for sure exactly how old Bill was, but he had been heard muttering, 'a little older than my teeth' whilst  at work in the municipal graveyards of the eastern shire. 

There was an aura of fear around Bill, which was just how he liked it, as fear kept the buggers away from you, and stopped them asking stupid questions.  If they got too close, he would bare his teeth (which were nicer than you thought they'd be), and tell them he truly was death, and their time was upon them.  That usually had the desired effect, and they went off, often with wet knickers. 


Wednesday, 2 July 2014

THREE LITTLE GOATS...

I wrote some more songs at the weekend, four of the buggers.  One's dead now, I had to put the poor sod out of it's misery, it was suffering unnecessarily... 

So there's three of them, dark broody little monkeys they are too.  You can see them hanging around the tent flaps of the big top, waiting for the show to begin, watching the clowns and stealing peanuts from the elephants.  I say monkeys, but they're more like little goats really... Just imagine  a trio of them tearing around and eating anything they fancy. 

One of them is hanging out in a graveyard digging graves for a pittance; another bare knuckle fighting all comers with no means of escape; the third drinking tea with minute traces of poison in it.  Gruff little kids with the weight of the world on their shoulders and an attitude to match. 

If you're good, I'll let you meet them soon...