Not inappropriate seagull noises

Working on ailments again this morning, so making some money. I am still booked for next week in London too, which is excellent. To the gym just after lunch, and then to the printer to collect posters and flyers. This being a month when few wires remain uncrossed, the printer had got the quantity wrong.

Home and Matt called around and we walked up to the Hanover part of Brighton in the rain, slightly bickering about the baroque route Matt had chosen. Off to Simon Scardanelli's studio to hear and edit the recordings he'd made. I have to say that it sounded better than I had dared hope. This concert will fall in love with you sounds absolutely fantastic, and I was also very relieved to hear that my own performance was really strong too. Made choices about which ending to put on. We chose the less shouty one.

Clameur sounded marvellous too. It is in two parts and edited from two or three performances. Became aware of myself at one moment sitting in a underground studio as the choir sang Let me die at Icart. I wonder what the folks in Guernsey are going to make of this.

Found, however, may still not be right. There is tricky aural rainbow in the middle where the choir sing the names of colours, but I've not heard this sung confidently yet, and we may drop it. The last piece, Minotaur, which Matt finished on the day of recording, and Glen and I did first take sounded wired and crazy. If classical or art music or whatever it is we are making can have a punk moment, then this is it.

There was also the problem of background noise. Once or twice there was the sound of cars to avoid, and seagulls. However there are one or two moments when the seagulls will be faintly heard. The three of us sat focusing on a passage from This concert... and Matt said tentatively, and after deep thought, "Those are not inappropriate seagull noises". Dr Simon Scardanelli (aka Dr Scardo) was a pleasure to work with. A real perfectionist, in a good way, with ninja ears that heard subtleties and nuances that were way beyond me.

After five hours of this sort of thing, and all the work listened to and preliminarily edited, Matt and I sensibly repaired to The Basketmakers for a self-congratulatory beer. Here we came upon Irish Tom, and Sam and his dad. Chatted at some length to Sam about politics before I left them to it, sneaking into M&S to score cheese, and home to explain at length my big and cleverness to Calliope as I crunched into cheese on toast.

Below Matt and Dr Scardo attune their ears.

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