Driven by Yerba Maté—previously administered like medicine by my Italian-Basque father after his years in Argentina every time I said "I'm tired"—I am now trapped awake. The gourd and bombilla are practically grafted to my lips, leaving me vibrating in the lamplight like a shivering sheep cornered in a wolf’s den.
Fuelled by this chaos, I’ve rearranged Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 (Allegretto) into a slow-building track—recorded right here in a Leamington Spa townhouse as a crescendo of sorts, if you are feeling fancy. It’s basically a bit of a campy ghost hunt told through sound, made just for a bit of premature seasonal Halloween fun, not to disrespect the devoted traditional purists or the man himself. I used a mix of bells, flute, recorder, low distorted bass, and some guitar feedback to give the familiar classical melody a tense vibe. I made subtle sounds of moving furniture, disembodied vocals with a broken mic (because I elbow-dropped it off a table by accident, but let's not dwell), and, well, you will see. I feel like it is a “less talking, more listening” situation.
Grab it from The Vault with the rest of my spontaneous collection.