tim bowness & peter chilvers - post-its

I simply don't have the words, at the moment, to write in full about how Tim Bowness and Peter Chilvers' music is so very important to me. The wonderful reissue of their 2002 album California, Norfolk (in a superb two CD package together with the second album Overstrand), accounts for a very large proportion of my music listening time over the past couple of years. And their song "Post-Its" is the most played song on my iPod by quite some distance.

 

This is music that I keep returning to. And, although I find it easy to waffle on about other music I like, I find it incredibly hard to explain quite what Bowness and Chilvers' music does to me. But it's become a part of me over the past few years - I find it oddly comforting and reassuring in a way that a lot of music isn't. The sentiments expressed, the emotions contained within each song, they seem to speak to me on some incredibly deep level. The music is almost always absolutely gorgeous - Chilvers is apparently incapable of writing anything other than really pretty music, and his lightness of touch means that none of these songs become ponderous or heavy, despite the sometimes desperately sad subject matter. In his lyrics and singing, Tim Bowness somehow seems to be able to articulate my own feelings. Without really understanding how or why, these songs have become utterly vital to me.

 

I will try to get around to writing about these incredible records in more details one day, but for now I will try to understand a bit about the song "Post Its". 

 

California, Norfolk was first issued in 2002 and the following year the companion album Overstrand was released, which was mainly comprised of alternate versions of some of the California, Norfolk songs, plus reworkings of a few other Bowness / Chilvers tracks. Although I adore the original album it's the reworked songs that have become the ones I return to more than any others. The original version of "Post Its" has a charming, slightly lopsided rhythm track and generally brighter outlook. The Overstrand version is dominated by Chilvers's keyboard, an all encompassing organ swirl that spirals from speaker to speaker throughout the track. Gradually other instruments are filtered in - gentle piano, some bass notes, a snippet of the orchestral swells from the original, but mostly it's the organ. It gives the song a mood of regret, of longing, which fits the lyrics perfectly.

 

Tim Bowness' words fit the music perfectly too, both in the actual lyrics and in Tim's brilliantly performed vocals. His voice is warm, intimate, so beautifully recorded that it feels like he's right in front of you.

 

The song itself shifts between the beginning and the end of a relationship. The opening line "on a day not meant for smiling, you made me smile" is so delightful, you can actually feel the promise and hope and optimism. 

 

The second verse is stunningly good at sketching in the first feelings of love, when anything and everything is possible - it's all so innocently romantic and full of anticipation and desire.... "we spent a lifetime devising plans to spend the night, we spent a night-time devising plans to waste our lives..." 

 

But then... "we spent forever, just testing ways to twist the knife..."

Rather than the carefree couple happily wasting their lives together, the mood has soured, horribly, suddenly, shockingly and Tim's voice is weighed down with dejected hopelessness.

 

As a sudden slap in the face it's as dramatic and as effective as the change in Talk Talk's "I Don't Believe In You" - another song which charts the failure of a relationship. There's a stunningly harsh moment where Mark Hollis switches from the repeated refrain of "I don't believe you" to "I don't believe in you" which signifies the final end, the complete breakdown of trust.

 

The choruses of "Post Its" contain far more in the way of sadness and resigned hurt, rather than the muted anger that is momentarily raised in the "twist the knife" line. All that youthful expectation from earlier has been overtaken by disappointment and dejection. As with so many Tim Bowness lyrics he's again found a way of making the mundane and everyday come alive with feeling, charged with emotion and melancholy. Something as ordinary as post it notes stuck to the wall have charted the whole relationship and their removal marks the final end - "And the post-its on the wall, that have marked our rise and fall, come down..."

 

Is this the final end though? There is perhaps a glimmer of hope offered by the closing part of the song as the chorus lines are repeated and overlaid with the opening lines - "on a day not meant for smiling, you made me smile" - is this juxtaposition an indication that maybe a new love has been found? Or is it merely sorrow, wistfully mourning for the loss of something that began so promisingly but which has ended in grief.

 

Whatever, it's a beautiful song. Sad, yes, but not depressing or maudlin. And in every play I can hear something new. This really is some of the best music I have ever heard.

 

 

david bowie - thoughts

It's been a weird few weeks since David Bowie died. Everyone knows how much of a fan I am, how much I'd admired this man. You'd think I'd have loads to say about him, about his music, about how much it meant to me.

 

But I'm still struggling to find the right words. Failing to find the right words.

 

Oddly, I feel like I ought to write something. Though I know it's only adding to the mountains of words people across the globe have written. But I can't quite figure out what to say. What would David Bowie have done? He'd probably have cherry picked the best bits of stuff he'd already done, mashed it all together and created something bigger than the sum of its parts.

 

So some of the following is lifted from an email of a couple of weeks ago that I sent to a good friend. 

 

I heard the news about David Bowie at 7am, only minutes after the story broke. I somehow went to work, but very little work was done. Utter shock, and tears for a man who I'd never met - apart from a dozen or so brilliant concerts - but I knew him somehow. And he knew me somehow. This guy has been with me every day since I was 13. Every. Single. Day.

 

In a weird way he was almost like an extra relative, a very cool, subversive relative. Bowie introduced me to all sorts of stuff - not just his music but art, culture, films, and loads of other music too. His music spoke to me, made me feel important and free, made me feel less alone, less of an outsider. I was never much of a slave to fashion, but at university I dyed my hair to look like him... Ok, in recent years this blatant hero worship has died off a bit, but I truly admired the dignified way he conducted his life and his work, and still looked up to this guy enormously. 

 

Much of the music I like (Iggy, Lou Reed, Scott Walker, Fripp, King Crimson, Eno, Roxy, Krautrock, New Wave, Talking Heads and so many many more) - it nearly all stems from strong connections with Bowie. Other music I like - bands like Suede or Interpol or Bauhaus for example - clearly own all the same records as me, including a huge chunk of Bowie music. Tim Bowness posted a lovely entry on his blog the day after the news where he reflected on Bowie and listed his favourite DB songs - his list is almost exactly my list, even down to the inclusion of the brilliant but hardly ever mentioned "Subterraneans".  https://timbowness.wordpress.com/influences/david-bowie/ 

No wonder I love Tim's music so much, he loves exactly the same music as I do!

 

I can't believe quite how this has upset me. It's actually made me question what I'm doing with my life. I used to have so many dreams when I was young, few of which I've really achieved. And with just over a year to go till I'm 50, I've been thinking that now I've just got to do something about that. I've always gone for the safe option. Got a regular job because it was sensible and paid the bills. Not because it was what I really wanted. Perhaps I should always have said to myself, what would David Bowie do? Because he never played safe, always took a chance, and crucially, followed his dreams. And so must I. 

 

Today I played Blackstar all the way through, for the first time since he died. I've played odd tracks since then, but not the whole thing in one go. I haven't been able to do that until now, as it's simply been too difficult for me to hear. Today I was struck by how obvious it all seemed - in all the excellent reviews of the album, in my first few listens before the news broke - how did no-one realise that this album was the final word? It's perfectly clear that with every song David Bowie is saying "Goodbye".