Forgotten Fields

Why “Forgotten Fields”

I have always been a loner. For many reasons, I have felt forgotten by my family. Early on, solitude became my friend. I escaped into the worlds of Dirk Bogarde (A Postillion Struck by Lightning), Kenneth Grahame (The Wind in the Willows) and Marcel Pagnol (La Gloire de Mon Père). I used to picture abandoned fields, just beyond the hedgerows, dotted with flowers like an impressionist painting. They gave me a sense of comfort. I escaped to them to be alone with my thoughts. I imagined myself lying in the tall grass, gently whispering in the wind. I stare at the clouds, my mind finally quiet. No one will find me because no one comes to these fields. Here, I am not afraid, everything is as it should be, all is right with the world. The name “Forgotten Fields” describes this inner life, the feelings of nostalgia and melancholy. It captures the yearning for something idyllic lost and even forgotten, a place that must be returned to some day, but may never be found again.

The music of existentialism

This sense of abandonment has been a theme of my existence for as long as I can remember; and my life has been an unending crusade against the mental chaos that followed. In an attempt to impose order on the chaos, I indulge my methodical, exacting nature. I am constantly trying to bring order out of the confusion about who I am, what I want and what I need. I regulate my own behaviour in order to extract something beautiful out of the noise that is my life. Predictably, this existential crisis finds expression in my work. In my music, droning noise and—to borrow from descriptions of the shoegaze movement—“walls of sound” represent chaos. Using repeating themes, sounds and melodies, I try to transform the noise into something structured, ordered and, I hope, beautiful. The ambient post-rock/drone genre provides an ideal medium for this. It is dark and pensive to quiet the mind, but also provides a medium with which to tell stories. The stories can be haunting and tragic or inspiring and rhapsodic. I endeavour to tell both. “Airship” is my first official attempt at doing so.

Forgotten Fields

Concept “Airship” Artwork

airship_rough_1
airship_rough_2

These are two rough composite “sketches” I quickly put together. They illustrate the images in my mind when I am writing music for the “Airship” concept album. It’s a perfect summer’s day in the early 1900s. Somewhere, on a forgotten field in France, a crowd has gathered. They are there to watch the first flight of a new airship. There is excitement in the air as the behemoth gently rises. Children point and gaze, open-mouthed in wonder: Look, it’s flying! The pilot and crew are nervous, a tense expression on the faces of the pilot and engineers… Oh, man. I hope, eventually, to create detailed pencil drawings, watercolours or, perhaps, digital illustrations to accompany the music.

Come Take A Trip In My Airship (1904)

Come take a trip in my airship,
Come take a sail ‘mong the stars,
Come have a ride around Venus,
Come have a spin around Mars.
No one to watch while we’re kissing,
No one to see while we spoon.
Come take a trip in my airship,
And we’ll visit the man in the moon.

Chorus of “Come Take A Trip In My Airship” (circa 1904) sung by J. W. Myers