Ruth, on: listening to music with the left ear.

Marc, in our last blog post, wrote about spending eight months without listening to much in the way of music, at least, new music.

I've been lucky enough to have avoided this, but I've found something else happening to me since taking up musicianship on a "serious amateur" basis.

Until I started in Moss & Jones, although music was a huge part of my life (in terms of hearing the stuff; I rarely walked anywhere or got on a train or 'bus without my walkman/CDman/iPod/iPhone on) I rarely sought out new music; it kind of found me. I'd hear a song on the radio I liked and buy it; someone would recommend an album and I'd log into iTunes to download it; an artist I already liked would release an album and... well, you get the picture.

Also until I started in Moss & Jones, I never really thought about how the music made it from the band/musician/orchestra/soloist to my speakers. I suppose if I'd ever been asked I would have just guessed that they played a song, and someone pointed a microphone, and that was what happened. I never really paid much attention to arrangements and dynamics either; in fact, despite even having played the violin in an orchestra, so being well aware of how many different instruments can be involved in a piece of music, and how they can be introduced one by one, played at different times and so on... I never made the leap from that, to thinking of a composer, sitting down and adding all the parts together, arranging and slicing and making harmonies and so on.

I heard the music, but I never really listened.

Then I started going to open mic nights. In fact, this was pre-Moss & Jones; I'd been going to poetry open mics off and on since I was about 19 and reading my own work, but it was only when I met someone who convinced me my singing voice wasn't that awful (the Jones of Moss & Jones, in fact) that I learned some unaccompanied folk songs and sang them live instead. Obviously, in order to learn songs I had to find them and listen to them, and so began my interest in folk music, folk singers and folk bands, which expanded as time went on. My knowledge of folk started as being dimly aware that there was a bit more to it than Steeleye Span's version of Gaudete, to looking up Roud and Child Ballad numbers for songs, knowing the difference between a jig and a reel, and boring people to tears by telling them how the instrument most people associate with 'folk' (the acoustic guitar) is actually a relatively new addition, historically speaking. The more I learn about folk music, the more I realise I don't know, too, which is a heady mixture of thrilling and disconcerting.

Of course, nothing gets you a knowledge of the grass roots local music scene faster than 'touring' the local open mic nights and as such I started listening to many more local musicians than I ever had in my life. I started attending more and more gigs, and not epic sold-out arena gigs but small gigs by musicians that were well-known locally but barely heard of elsewhere. I discovered music via Soundcloud and Bandcamp which didn't have a hope of making it into the top 40 (or the top 200) but suited my tastes down to the ground.

But as time went on, something else started to happen too. The more I started to write music for Moss & Jones, and certainly after we visited Catalyst Studios for the first time, the more I started to notice what other people were doing in their music. I could no longer just hear a piece of music; I listened, too. I heard the arrangements in addition to the notes; it was like I had some kind aural equivalent of x-ray vision, where I could not only hear the flesh of the tune but also the skeleton it hung from. I was listening to the strings, for example, but also the point where they came in, how one violin would come in first, then another, then another in harmony, and so on, and where they'd leave, either suddenly, or one by one. I'd feel excitedly jarred by a surprising chord progression, and wonder what the musician had done. I'd get ideas; often for ways I could change or add to our own songs, but sometimes things I definitely didn't want us to do, too.

At gigs, not only would I be enjoying the gig and the stagecraft - I'd also be learning. I'd see how they got the audience involved at a certain point, and would turn to Marc and say, "we should do that", or occasionally, "we don't do that... do we?"

And it is still like that, now. I cannot listen to a piece of music without an ear to how it's been put together, and I can't go to a gig without applying it to our gigs; even if the genre is vastly different to our own. Even listening to the trance music I danced to in my early twenties, I analyse how it builds up and think of how that could be applied to a song or two of ours, for example, and there has been more than one occasion on which I've been listening to an indie tune I loved in my youth and thought "this should really be shorter. The last minute is just filler. Let's not do that with our songs". At the same time as I've fallen more deeply in love with music, I've also become a little more critical too.

But for all this, my love of music is never spent. It's just that I seem to be enjoying it in a far more analytical way than I ever did previously. I've even looked a little into the neuroscience and philosophy behind music; never too old to learn! Although I can no longer just hear and enjoy music without thinking about it, I certainly appreciate it an awful lot more, and am in awe of musicians even more than ever. I realise that "left brain versus right brain" is a false dichotomy, but for illustrative purposes, it would be fair to say, I'm listening now much more with my left ear.

Marc on...my eight months without music

A year ago I stopped listening to music. This wasn’t a sudden thing; I didn’t decide one day to ‘kick’ music, like I’d kicked cigarettes, or Twixes or going on cookdandbombd during working hours. I just gradually reached a point where I didn’t have any music on my mp3 player and didn’t listen to any during the working day.

I still came into contact with music, of course – you can’t be married to a gifted and knowledgeable musician without hearing a lot of good music on a daily basis, but as of one year ago, I stopped listening to, consuming, or buying music.

This development came as something of a surprise to me, and a worrying one at that. From my first listen to Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band aged 11, I had been powerfully obsessed with music; initially with sixties pop and rock, then prog, then the guitar bands of the nineties, then classical and krautrock and chart pop and chanson and dub and baroque and … pretty much everything I came into contact with.

From the age of 15 I bought monthly music magazines, and the weekly ones as well for a good few years. Not a month would go by without me buying at least two albums and my ears were pretty much constantly ringing from persistent listening to an ever-changing selection of music on my ipod.

So what was it that caused one of the abiding passions of my life to wane?

It seems to me now that a variety of factors was at play: in 2005 an old interest re-entered my life: Doctor Who. Fandom being what it is, a pretty fearsome range of magazines, podcasts, blogs and forums became available and I was (and to a large extent still am) immersed in this. Podcasts like Radio Free Skaro and Toby Hadoke’sWho’s Round became permanent fixtures on my mp3 player, and my monthly purchases of The Word (RIP), Mojo or Record Collector were supplanted by Doctor Who Monthly.

Another change in my life was that, as of about six years ago, I started taking writing seriously (or at least trying to). As I’ve written more and more comedy and looked further into how to be good at this, I’ve found Stuart Goldsmith’s Comedians’ Comedian podcast an invaluable learning aid. Each week Stuart interviews a different stand-up about their writing methods and views on comedy. Additionally, since being lucky enough to be asked to do some ‘additional material’ writing on Radio 4’s The News Quiz and The Now Show, both these shows have been added to the weekly download list.

Adding all those up, it doesn’t leave much time in the week (or space on the mp3 player) to listen to music. This element of the situation isn’t something I regret; when I’m walking around on my lunchbreak, I’m not listening to Hex Enduction Hour for the seventieth time – I’m learning how to be better at something I want to be good at.

The question remains, though: I wasn’t listening to my old albums over and over again any more, but what was stopping me looking for new music? This, I think, is where there’s been some kind of fundamental change in me. Simply put: I used to care about What Bands Did, but I don’t any more.

There are, of course, exceptions to this: I made my first music magazine purchase in three or four years yesterday to read the Blur interview in Mojo and I avidly keep up with any news on Beatles reissues, bootlegs, biographies etc. But the part of me which would have cared that the original line-up of the Thirteenth FloorElevators is re-forming for a gig in Austin this summer is, if not dead, then certainly dormant.

Blur and The Beatles are both old bands, though. Didn’t I want to hear any NEW music? It seemed not. Whereas in the past I’d have Youtube’d a new song praised by Pitchfork, or taken up friends’ recommendations, for almost a year I just…didn’t.

I know, to my occasional shame, that there is ridiculous novelty and startling new music out there and I’m not bothering my soon-to-be-thirty-nine-year-old arse to find out about it. Perhaps all this is a function of aging: at this time of my life, I’d rather write thousand-word blog articles about there being no good music than use the very computer I’m sitting at RIGHT NOW to find some.

In summary, podcasts took the place of music in my daily listening and I didn’t bother to look for new music to be excited by.

One question which people might ask, arising from this, is: ‘How can someone playing in a committed, active musical group just stop listening to music?’ The answer is: I don’t know. Not listening to music in no way affected the high level of enjoyment I get out of playing, performing and recording with Moss & Jones. It would be neat (in the non-Californian sense) to be able to say being in a band while not listening to music made being in a band in some way experientially different but that wasn’t the case. I loved playing music in Moss & Jones when I was a raging harmoniaphile and I loved it when I wasn’t.

As you may have gathered from some of the tense-jumbling in this piece, my amusical days are now behind me. For the past four or so months, I’ve been listening to music again, and enjoying it. The catalysts for this have been…

a.) Last November, someone very generously gave us a car. I commute to work in said car at least one day per week and, given that I’ve not mastered the jiggery-pokery necessary to hook the mp3 player up to the stereo, I’ve been relying on the vehicle’s cd player, and my long-discarded crop of cds.

I can remember the first one of these I put on in the car, in a ‘God, I hope I still like music’ way: Stevie Wonder’s Talking Book. I’d bought this years ago but never listened to it all the way through. Now, hearing it through reasonably good speakers at a time when I had forty minutes to do nothing but listen (and drive), was pretty much the ideal circs for reacquainting myself with enjoying music.

I wonder, in fact, if listening to so many compressed mp3s through cheap, hissy earphones was part of what put me off music in the first place? A podcast through crackly earphones is bearable, a favourite album is not.

b.) Over the past five or so months, a few of my musical faves have reappeared with new albums, giving me the incentive of hearing something ‘new’ while also knowing it’s something I’ll very probably like. A part of my soul rebels at typing those words: I used to pretty much despise people who only wanted to listen to stuff they already knew they’d like. I think at the moment, though, that new music by artists I’m familiar with is a good way of easing myself back into new music in general.

For the record, the music in question has been Half Man Half Biscuit’s Urge ForOffal, what I’ve heard so far of Blur’s forthcoming The Magic Whip and the utterly wonderful You and I Alone by Daphne and Celeste (if you’re not with me re that last choice, go and give their debut album a listen: 7/8ths of it is fantastic).

So, now I like music again. HOORAY! Looking back to that time, though, the notion that I’d somehow lost the ability to enjoy listening to music was a genuinely frightening one and I’m very grateful that that it seems to have passed.

One thing remains: the thing I most want to hear in all the world of music is Ridiculous Novelty. THAT’S what I miss, and it’s been a long time since something’s hit me like that. So, dear reader, this is open to you: What can I listen to that will surprise the FUCK out of me?

Our folk music special: now available as a podcast!

Last Sunday, we sat down at half past eight with the internet radio tuned to Studio 109 Live and Online, ready to hear our very own radio show, full of a diverse range of talent from mostly local (one or two not-so-local) folk and folk inspired musicians. We live-tweeted the whole thing for anyone who was listening, and it was wonderful to see many of the artists featured tweeting to each other, and checking out each other's oeuvre. It's heart-warming to think that perhaps we've introduced some talented musicians to others, and possibly even helped people make new friends!

It was such a fun thing to put together, and we like to think that perhaps some people have a few new favourites now as a result!

If you missed it, the good folks at Studio 109 have kindly put it online as a podcast so you can listen to our show again in its entirety! We'd love to know what you think, especially of the first track, Ella Brown, which will be the lead single from our forthcoming album, Amateur Astronomy, out later this spring.

Studio 109 Live and Online - Folk Music Special - Moss and Jones by Studio109 Live And Online on Mixcloud

Our very own folk show THIS SUNDAY on Studio 109!

If you can, cast your minds back to December 2014, when our Christmas carol, A Song for Mary, was played on BBC Radio Merseyside and other local radio stations and podcasts, featured in the Liverpool Echo and even won a carol competition; one of the radio stations that played our carol was Studio 109. Studio 109 is a fantastic internet radio station for new music coming out of the North West and beyond. You can find them online, and also by using the TuneIn app on a smartphone.

Well, after they'd kindly featured our carol, the lovely folks at Studio 109 got in touch with us early this year and asked if we'd like to do a folk show for them. We debated whether or not it was something we could do; we'd never put together anything like this before. We were worried too; what if we asked for tracks but received too many and had to whittle them down, and risk disappointing or upsetting people? What if the musicians we did contact said no? How would we even go about putting such a show together? Of course, we said yes in the end, and decided we'd learn as we went along.

After researching podcasting, we learned that we could use good old Audacity to put together our show. We then set about looking for music to play. The only stipulations given by Studio 109 were that the music had to be original, and folk. Obviously, with a lot of music in the folk tradition being an artist's own interpretation of age-old songs, we've taken "original" in these cases to mean "an original interpretation". We decided that we'd try to make the show from local folk musicians where we could, but if we heard something amazing from further afield, we wouldn't leave it out. It made sense to include songs we listened to quite a lot at home; we also tried to make it so that the show had a wide range of instruments.

The show will be played this Sunday; the radio show itself starts at 8.30pm and our segment will start just before 9pm.

Musicians featured include:
Laura James and the Lyres
The Lost Lad
Elly the Folk
Under a Banner
Katie Rose
Pennman
Finch and the Moon
Derek King
Caitlin Gilligan
Merry Hell
Janey Turner
SheBeat
Laura & Claire

... and of course, Moss & Jones, with two tracks from our forthcoming mini-album, Amateur Astronomy.

We'd just like to say thank you to all the artists who agreed to let us use their tracks, and who got back in touch with us so quickly. We can't wait to hear your thoughts on the show this Sunday!

Be Lovely Day, January 17th, The Brink

Our first gig of 2015 was at an event organised by the wonderful Jodie Schofield (who trades musically under the name SheBeat), to mark the third Be Lovely Day. This annual explosion of good deeds and acts of kindness is Jodie’s personal project and we were honoured to be asked to play a part in it.

One of the events for this year’s Be Lovely Day was an afternoon of acoustic music in Liverpool’s TheBrink. Those of you who follow our activities will know that it’s a venue dear to our hearts; not only did we publicly announce our engagement on its stage (the classifieds column of The Times is a trifle déclassé, don’t you think?), but Ruth held her Hen Do there (and Marc the second of his Stag Dos), AND they did the catering for our wedding. Yes, it’s fair to say we’re Fairly Well Disposed to The Brink.

Planning for the gig, we were presented with a similar issue to January of last year (and possibly the one before): our most recent Big Gig, the one we’d worked towards and planned and practised for, had been a Christmas concert. And there is one fact about doing Christmas concerts: your repertoire evaporates after 1^st January. Thus we had a bit of work to do to get back into non-festive match fitness. However, after a couple of evenings’ rehearsal, we soon felt confident we could rock the (post-Christmas) house.

On the day, we were last on the bill, which meant we had the pleasure of watching the other performers before taking our turn on the stage. Sets from Kate Garroway, Cal Ruddy, Michael Bennett and our pal Derek King made for a wonderful afternoon’s entertainment, and it was great to see the acts staying around to watch each other play.

Our own set seemed to go down well, and we’d brought along an extra surprise for Be Lovely Day; the sheet music for Let No Man Steal Your Thyme, which Ruth had adroitly put together in Noteflight.

All in all a memorable afternoon – we keenly await next year’s events!

In the mix: Amateur Astronomy

Yesterday, after a slightly fraught early morning (the gas meter had eaten through the last of the emergency credit thus necessitating a slightly disheveled trip to the Co-op before we could even have a wash), we went to Catalyst Studios for our last session of putting our mini-album together.

Andy, as always, was helpful and knowledgeable whilst mixing the songs from our previous session, with lots of useful suggestions and some little tricks of the trade to tidy away the odd error or two.

Then, we went back to the songs from previous studio sessions. There were a few minor issues we'd spotted since recording which Andy was able to correct with cutting edge software. It's quite something to see how, using Pro Tools, a misplaced nudge of the ukulele can have its own waveform which can be made to simply vanish. We also added something very special to Millbrook which you'll have to wait to hear!

Ruth's son came in towards the end of the session after having spent the morning at his dad's. Luckily we'd had the foresight to buy him a puzzle book and a set of pens so he wasn't too bored, though he did wonder why we had to check everything so many times. We explained that it was because we wanted everything to be the best it could possibly be (but also, more candidly, that we had no more of the recording money & vouchers we'd been given for our wedding, so this was our last chance to get everything perfect)!

We came away with a CD with all of the songs for the mini-album on it, in the right order, so we can listen and decide how much of a gap - or not - we want between them all when mastered. The CD itself is just under half an hour long so we think it's possibly that bit too long to be reasonably called an EP, but that bit too short to be described as a full-album (hence us calling it a mini-album). We can't quite believe how fantastically this concept album hangs together; each song seems to fit perfectly, and they all sound sumptuous! There are so many instruments too in addition to our harmonies; this album has everything from melodica to psaltery; from violin to mandolin, from piano to bodhran... and more.

We've already worked on the cover art for the CD, but there are so many other things left to do before we can release it. We've decided on a single (digital release only) for the album, which will be Ella Brown, and have commissioned some cover art, to display online, from an exciting young mixed-media artist; having seen some sketches already we're intrigued about what she'll come up with for the final design. We're also awaiting the final mix of our b-side (folk classic Reynardine) for the single; unlike the a-side and the rest of the album, this has been recorded by one of Ruth's friends who is studying for a music degree.

We have myriad other i's to dot and t's to cross; signing up to PRS, getting the CDs printed and burnt, deciding how to get our music onto other platforms outside of Bandcamp, writing to various publications to request reviews, arranging the launch gig and mini-tour (a mini-album necessitates a mini-tour, surely). Naturally, we also have other responsibilities; we both have jobs and of course there's Ruth's son to parent and a house to run. We've been so lucky, though, that we could even do this at all; the kind wedding presents of studio time were such lovely, thoughtful gifts from friends for which we're incredibly grateful. It's so exciting to record an album together and hopefully, this won't be the only one.

We're also indebted to people who've helped us pre-promote the album so far; you Macramists are the BEST; sharing posts across social media, bringing friends to gigs and generally spreading the word. We'd simply love it if you keep it up now; if we can create a bit of a buzz about Amateur Astronomy in advance that would be marvellous! Thank you all. xx

We have finished recording... now for the rest of the to-do list!

Yesterday we went to Catalyst Studios, St. Helens, for our final recording session for our mini album, Amateur Astronomy.

We started with our version of Schiarazula Marazula, a mediaeval dance which probably originates in the Friuli area of Italy. Ruth discovered this tune last year and immediately thought it was perfect for us to cover. Our version stays the same tempo throughout, and we've added lyrics to one of the repeated phrases. As Marc bought Ruth a psaltery for Christmas, it seemed a shame not to use it; we also added bodhran, ukulele (plucked), descant recorder and some backing ahhs and oohs.

Ruth arranged it to have an additive nature; due to this and the way it builds, organising the different parts on the mixing desk was a bit of a challenge, so once Andy (the producer) had the basic structure down we moved onto the next song.

Our next song, Frosty Nights (When I Was Your Age), is a-cappella, with just two parts, one for each of us. Ruth wrote it for her son, and we've been singing it around the house so much that before we set off for the studio, Ruth's son was singing snippets of it himself! We hadn't originally intended to put this on the mini-album as Ruth composed it in mid-January this year, after we'd already planned a rough track listing, however, it fitted so well with the theme that we couldn't leave it off. You might have to look that bit harder for it as a result. We'll be giving away the sheet music free with our album so you can have a bash at singing it yourselves.


Last up was Marc's composition, the title track of the album, Amateur Astronomy. Over a year in the writing, the song has three distinct sections coming together to tell a simple story. Its lengthy gestation means it's ended up nothing like the song he started out with, but it's all the better for that. Utilising the tenor ukulele Ruth bought Marc for Christmas, in addition to piano, some soaring strings and backing vocals from Ruth, Marc handles lead vocal duties on this one.

After recording all three songs, that was it for the day; we've arranged to go back to mix everything on Saturday 14th February (yes, Valentine's Day; is there anything more romantic than spending time together in the studio?)

As usual, Andy was fantastic; he doesn't shy away from telling us, diplomatically, if we could go back in the booth and record something again better; he also makes an excellent brew.

Whilst we were in the studio, we finalised the track-listing for the mini-album. It has a loose concept running through it, so we had to think carefully about where everything goes. We've already designed the front cover of the CD; once everything is mixed, we have to sort out CDs, a launch, reviews, radio play, and the back cover of the CD, too. A friend of Ruth's is also recording us performing folk staple Reynardine as b-side for our first single from the album, which will be our folk-inspired song Ella Brown (you can watch us playing it live here).

We're very excited about having finished recording, but in some ways, that's only the beginning. Watch this space!