on being weird: suburban ambience
Two years ago I moved into a detached private residence on the south east side of the town. It offered a quiet, suburban sort of life, free of the claustrophobia that can be found in the rows and rows of terraced housing that permeate through the centre. Moving there provided a odd sense of worth, because as we were just four young men straight out of university we weren’t used to such homely accommodation. We really had transcended our position, or at least our pay grades. Fortunately we took care to speak to the owners eloquently and with propriety so as to market ourselves as right for their property. From there my own personal view of that time is one of mixed feelings; of restless energy inhabiting new freedom, new geographic landscape finding surfacing curiosity, exploration of sound and ambience coming up against strange, oscillating atmospheres, softly moving against the minute hand of the wall clock. In retrospect it feels like life never moved on, that we didn’t grow and started to lose ourselves, but all the time that clock kept ticking before us. It was probably my own unique position that enhanced this view. Of being in work but with no responsibility, only to pay the bills at the end of the month and to keep myself alive so that my band could carry on in perpetuity neither ascending nor descending, just being.