Sleeps With Butterflies

samedi 3 mai 2014, par Cécile Desbrun

"I’ve been researching and listing words that I like the sound of and look of for the pollination stakes competition. There is a list of hundreds, so to give my mind a break, I had a wander down the back field to the vegetable garden and the greenhouse. I just hung out there, deciding with husband where to put the lavender - anytime there is sun around in England you can’t take it for granted, you must bake in it, making yourself the sacrifice, if necessary - just to maybe make it last all day. So, since it was one of those glorious English summer days in the middle of Spring, I played hooky from playing the piano and flirted with the sun. On my way back from the field, with flower choices in my head, Husband headed off to the Arsenal game and I headed to the picnic table where my gardening book was. I passed the studio with the huge barn doors of the big recording room painted in madras, a Tuscan peach, which I had open all morning while practicing. Then bam. There it was... after all these months, I looked at the Bose, she looked at me, and I went right up, turned the tape recorder on, and bam...the chorus to ’Sleeps with Butterflies’ was spilling over the keys and I knew she was complete. So after weeks of trying to write my idea of a chorus, the real chorus stepped right up and said, ’T, honey, you just take this down and I’ll be off to enjoy some flirting with the sun myself.’"

Did the day effect this ? Did the weather ? Sure. If I were in another space, then something as simple as a bird’s song changes. Having started a song at one place in the world, say in Bumfuck on the road, then finishing it on a Winter’s day - with that soft muted Cornish light putting the m in moody, bringing with it its own references, senses, and perfumes... all of these elements get included in that ever rotating palette." (Tori Amos : Piece by Piece)