THE GOPHERS are busy and that most certainly means spring has taken root (although snow still whispers in the forecast).
You can also hear the tell-tale sound of songbirds on the prairie filling up a big blue sky with the promise of summer…
Here’s more incidental music for the INSIGHT TREKS soundtrack.
The first tune (released last month) enjoyed some airplay on the CKUA Radio Network, and Mid-Morning Mojo. Popular host Baba Singh (a very nice man!) kindly wrote: “I will open tomorrow morning’s show with this gem.” The newest releaseLate Snow once again features Paul Dunn accompanying me on guitar, and bassist Tom Linklater — The Dead String Band.
I’ve got three more soundtrack mixes to come over the next short while; the music is different from the 3D audio soundscapes; they’re bed-tracks for ‘voiceover’ script — instrumentals evocative of impressions on the way to ‘special places’.
A blush of spring has melted snow in these parts, but it’s a temporary truce with winter; the forecast calls for one more dance before closing time. And I’m okay with that — the colder weather might bring out the aurora borealis (which hid behind clouds, last month — sigh).
With PLAN B in play, I’ve repurposed INSIGHT TREKS, finessing the materiel on hand and whatnot; I’m now leaning toward making an app for wireless devices such as your mobile phone and digital tablets; it will be immediately useful ‘in the field’ triggered by GPS, for example, illuminating ‘songs in the land’ at a given location (the content — 3D sound, text, short films — will also be available in ‘armchair’ mode).
Here’s a ‘frame grab’ from one of the short films Misshepezhieu (a ‘rock art’ site on Lake Superior); the work in progress will be animated by Jack Bride, a fellow artist and kindred spirit.
Misshepezhieu was a major influence on the art of Norval Morrisseau (more on him in a moment). The painter visited the numinous spot, which, for well over a century had only been rumoured to exist.
In 1958, Selwyn Dewdney first came upon Misshepezhieu, following years of searching for the site; it was a tough slog by canoe — miles of coastline with few settlements to speak of let alone humans to consult — his only guide was the historical accounts of Henry Schoolcraft.
Agawa Bay, as it’s called along the TransCanada Highway, inspires awe and a sense of being outside the constraints of present time. No wonder artists love it.
“My paintings are icons,” Morrisseau said, echoeing the intent of ochre pictographs that mark the upward thrusts of granite on Lake Superior. “They are images which help focus on spiritual powers, generated by traditional belief and wisdom.”
In February, I recorded with Paul Dunn and Tom Linklater, a suite of five instrumental tracks to accompany voiceover & bridges to the 3D soundscapes; here’s a pre-release of one of the tunes (mixed for regular speakers): Tie Creek (a ragged lament).
Here’s what inspired the instrumental: Tie Creek sits snug along the border between Manitoba and Ontario, and is well hidden from campers who enjoy Whiteshell Provincial Park.
For ten years, I had been attempting to visit the effigy stones in the back country that’s off-limits for the casual tourist (if you’re lucky enough to find it on your own). Park interpreter Ron Bell (to the right in the picture above) was good enough to take me into the bush, and tell of his fascination with a particularly numinous spot, he says, that’s “lonely for human company.” It’s true. The instrumental track is what I felt there…
One other thing: as one of my supporters, if you haven’t received your special postcard (fronted with the Old, Big medicine wheel) by traditional mail, please ping me!
After a small adventure — missing the turn and on the backup, sliding into a ditch and getting stuck — I found out there is still such a thing as the Good Samaritan. Several people stopped; one with a tow-rope. A pull, a yank, and clunk into reverse gear, I popped out onto the main highway without further excitement.
Slowly making my way along the park road, I waited for the big show of the anticipated (and much publicized) aurora borealis after the sun burped and spit out a big blast of particles directed toward the earth (the Northern Lights are animated by the solar wind cresting over the tops of the world’s poles).
The night sky opened up after a cloudy start. Stars poked out, bright and shiny; a moon three-quarters full, casting wonderful shadows. And the aurora? Well, ummm…. nothing happened.
I wasn’t all that disappointed; it was pleasant to be joined by a pile of other people, late, late on a Thursday, cameras in tow waiting for the same thing. My intention was a wee bit different, I had my VLF (very low frequency) antennae hoping to record the aurora ‘radio frequency’ — the otherwise inaudible soundtrack that dances in time with the night sky. It was fairly quiet — some snap, crackle and pop (like you hear in this recording). I had been hoping to capture something more akin to these whistles and chirps.
After I drove away from the crowd — far away from the digital cameras and buzzzz of electronic devices, mobiles phones, and cars idling — it was drop dead silent. And in the lead up to the wee hours, I heard an owl hoot in the bush. Once, twice, several times.
I quietly thanked whoever was listening for the pleasure of that moment in the cold night air.
“The wind, indeed, seemed made for the scene, as the scene seemed made for the hour. Part of its tone was quite special; what was heard there could be heard nowhere else. Gusts in innumerable series followed each other from the northwest, and when each one of them raced past the sound of its progress resolved into three. Treble, tenor, and bass notes were to be found therein. The general ricochet of the whole over pits and prominences had the gravest pitch of the chime. Next there could be heard the baritone buzz of a holly tree. Below these in force, above them in pitch, a dwindled voice strove hard at a husky tune, which was the peculiar local sound alluded to. Thinner and less immediately traceable than the other two, it was far more impressive than either. In it lay what may be called the linguistic peculiarity of the heath; and being audible nowhere on earth off a heath, it afforded a shadow of reason for the woman’s tenseness, which continued as unbroken as ever.
“Throughout the blowing of these plaintive November winds that note bore a great resemblance to the ruins of human song which remain to the throat of fourscore and ten. It was a worn whisper, dry and papery, and it brushed so distinctly across the ear that, by the accustomed, the material minutiae in which it originated could be realized as by touch. It was the united products of infinitesimal vegetable causes, and these were neither stems, leaves, fruit, blades, prickles, lichen, nor moss.
“They were the mummied heathbells of the past summer, originally tender and purple, now washed colourless by Michaelmas rains, and dried to dead skins by October suns. So low was an individual sound from these that a combination of hundreds only just emerged from silence, and the myriads of the whole declivity reached the woman’s ear but as a shrivelled and intermittent recitative. Yet scarcely a single accent among the many afloat tonight could have such power to impress a listener with thoughts of its origin. One inwardly saw the infinity of those combined multitudes; and perceived that each of the tiny trumpets was seized on entered, scoured and emerged from by the wind as thoroughly as if it were as vast as a crater.”
Welcome to the making of INSIGHT TREKS (the short films)!
Make sure you check in from time to time; I will be posting reports on the progress of INSIGHT TREKS and what-not (for instance, the outcome of late night sojourns in search of VLF (very low frequency) associated with the aurora borealis, the legendary Northern Lights that make the long winter nights interesting up here, north of latitude 53).
I’m also very interested and invite your comments . Please do tell me about your personal experiences with any ‘special places’ you have encountered or have a hunch about and think I should investigate (such as the ones I mentioned in the Kickstarter campaign). And try not to second guess what I might find of interest or feel obliged to edit the story you have to tell; the more details — no matter how trivial — the better!
You can also continue to support my work by passing along this link to PLAN B (building from the 2013 Kickstarter campaign) to friends and colleagues via your social media of choice.