As an office junior at the age of 17 I used to go for longs walks on my lunch breaks. To get into the city centre I would have cross a bridge. There were two bridges to choose from, one being a pedestrian bridge. I don't know the name of it, but it was red.
I noticed one day that there was a mattress under that bridge, on the banks of the Clyde. It had messy sheets, and a pile of clothing and belongings. I just stared at the mess as I walked over the bridge. I felt an overwhelming sadness. How could someone live like that? Under a bridge. Next to a cold river. What happened to them? Why are they there? It was so horrible to think that is someone's existence in life. That at night, they would lay their head down on the cold damp mattress, see the ripples of the Clyde, and hear the marching footsteps and drunken laughter over head. I mean, that is someone's son or daughter; someone's friend or partner, fighting to stay alive.
So about 7 years later I am writing songs about the city, and how shite and horrible and sleazy it is at night. How the city becomes this hodpodge of sluts and sleazy men; of drunkards and druggys. I had a song I I had written called 'Be Lucky' which I liked and was very happy with. However, I chose to reinvent that riff. It turned out to be such a good recording that I thought the Be Lucky lyrics just wouldn't fit. So I wrote some new ones. I wanted a kind repeated rap-style melody, and wanted subject matter. Something emotional, sad but quite dark. I listened to the music and it made me think of the bridge, and the mattress. Of who may have lived there. And so the song began to write itself.
Track 5 - Red Bridge (AFTER. THE. RUSH. HOUR'S. GONE):
Sleeping, sleeping in sleeping bags
Under bridges under bridges, near the job I had
On the banks, banks, banks of the river bed
Under the Red Bridge
Across from across from the flash cars
Flash, flash, flash, flash, flash cars and prosperity,
Raiding the bins along the alleyways,
Feeding their habit that ruins their days,
That ruins their live,
Under the Red Bridge,
Where they made, their home
Along from, along from, along from the powerful courts,
Lawyers and judges, pass over head,
The mattress lay dormant and bare, mattress lay dormant bare,
Where are they now?
Where are they now?
Under the Red Bridge,
Where they made, their home
Written 2007-08
Watch this space for more behind my songs,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/aftertherushhoursgone
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Sunday, 25 July 2010
The story behind: Spitting Feathers
I had just 10 minutes before seen the quiet emptiness where the twin towers once stood. Leaning against a wall, just past the stairs of an underground I waited. My best friend's family were trying to work a Manhattan Metro ticket machine...but to no avail. Both my best friend and I felt it pointless to intervene. Over my shoulder I heard some commotion. Intrigued, like all the other would be commuters that afternoon, I had glanced over at the situation unfolding.
A desperate man. An old man pleading for help. It was uncomfortable to see and to hear. His claustrophobic despair tried to fight through the clunks of the turnstiles and passing trains through all the voices around both him and I. He seemed so lost, so hurt. It was horrible to watch. I had to turn away from him, it was too hard to see someone in that much pain. I don't know exactly what was wrong with him. But as the turnstiles clumped and clanked into place, and the bellowing voices of others continued, he shouted in desperation. 'Get out of my head, please get out of my head! Get the voices out my head!'. I can only assume he had schizophrenia. His pleas didn't sound like they were from a drunkard, or druggy.
I then witnessed him try to escape through the turnstiles without a ticket. People passed him endlessly, seemingly, without care. When we eventually got the tickets and ventured through the turnstile I glanced through the bars at the man. He was frantically moving around seeking help from anyone. It was terrifying to watch. And it is still worrying to me to think, what if got through that turnstile? Got near the train platform? Did something out with his control? I still think about him sometimes, with an overwhelming sympathy. And hope that he didn't get through the turnstile.
About 8 months later, I researched the topic of schizophrenia. And overtime wrote Spitting Feathers (originally entitled 'Earworms'). My wife used the term spitting feathers in a conversation one day, and I thought it fit perfectly.
Track 3: Spitting Feathers (In Cloud Cuckooland):
Click, clang, clack, clock,
Go the turnstiles cogs,
Antidepressant drugs,
Itchy trigger finger again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
He talks to the microwave,
It shouts right back,
Wants a word salad,
Keep to the point and don't digress again,
Hyper overdrive,
Demons shout and whisper die die die,
The laughter stops,
Run for the tracks and try the guillotine again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
A fox in box
Who locks my door,
J'adore the docs,
Who lock my box
Written in 2008-09
Watch this space for more stories behind my songs,
Wullae Wright
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
A desperate man. An old man pleading for help. It was uncomfortable to see and to hear. His claustrophobic despair tried to fight through the clunks of the turnstiles and passing trains through all the voices around both him and I. He seemed so lost, so hurt. It was horrible to watch. I had to turn away from him, it was too hard to see someone in that much pain. I don't know exactly what was wrong with him. But as the turnstiles clumped and clanked into place, and the bellowing voices of others continued, he shouted in desperation. 'Get out of my head, please get out of my head! Get the voices out my head!'. I can only assume he had schizophrenia. His pleas didn't sound like they were from a drunkard, or druggy.
I then witnessed him try to escape through the turnstiles without a ticket. People passed him endlessly, seemingly, without care. When we eventually got the tickets and ventured through the turnstile I glanced through the bars at the man. He was frantically moving around seeking help from anyone. It was terrifying to watch. And it is still worrying to me to think, what if got through that turnstile? Got near the train platform? Did something out with his control? I still think about him sometimes, with an overwhelming sympathy. And hope that he didn't get through the turnstile.
About 8 months later, I researched the topic of schizophrenia. And overtime wrote Spitting Feathers (originally entitled 'Earworms'). My wife used the term spitting feathers in a conversation one day, and I thought it fit perfectly.
Track 3: Spitting Feathers (In Cloud Cuckooland):
Click, clang, clack, clock,
Go the turnstiles cogs,
Antidepressant drugs,
Itchy trigger finger again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
He talks to the microwave,
It shouts right back,
Wants a word salad,
Keep to the point and don't digress again,
Hyper overdrive,
Demons shout and whisper die die die,
The laughter stops,
Run for the tracks and try the guillotine again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
A fox in box
Who locks my door,
J'adore the docs,
Who lock my box
Written in 2008-09
Watch this space for more stories behind my songs,
Wullae Wright
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
Friday, 23 July 2010
The story behind: Vixen - Part 1, 2, 3, & 4
One of the most prominent subject matters in music is love. It is a powerful thing as we all know. We have all experienced it in some form or other. Good or bad. Nice or nasty. I was at a low point in my life, where I had put in effort after effort with women I had been with, or had nearly been with. I had experienced highs, don't get me wrong; but I'd also experienced lows. And the lows hit me quite hard.
The depression began after a long term relationship spanning three years ended. I ended it. For a year I had tried to keep the momentum going, tried to keep it interesting and special. But to no avail. I would call her (as the relationship was long distance), and she would say she was busy everytime. I should have guessed, but it isn't easy to admit to yourself, this ain't going anywhere. Anyway the split took me a while to get over - a year to be precise. I was becoming more content with everything, until a bomb shell. I had a dream where she had been having sex with another man, and in this dream the man was provoking me over the telephone. I woke up, feeling horrible and sick. I told her all about it. Didn't hear for a week. Didn't think anything of it. Why would I? Then I received a text 'I need to tell you something'. I logged onto yahoo messenger whereby she proceeded to tell me all about it. Her cheating. Over the phone, with another guy. I was hurt. What was worse though, was the cheating had been going on for a year. When I was with her. During the times I was calling and being declined. When I was trying and it was being pushed away. I was hurt and become quite depressed.
Years later, I am in campus, drinking juice and meeting the present lady at the time. She begins, but I already know where this is going. It has been a week. One week. And already. 'This isn't working' she said. Here we go. We discuss it. As we depart amicably she exclaims 'u can write a song about me!', with humour written all over her face. I don't think she is aware I took her up on her advice.
I needed an outlet. The ex who cheated on me still affected me greatly. And so I did write a song, which turned out to be one of the most therapeutic solutions to my problems. Based around the Kelly Jones album 'Only the names have been changed', where he sings about women in each song, and how dirty and nasty some can be, was central to the song I have written. Kelly Jones used fake names; whereas, I did not. I wanted the song to be as honest as possible. The structure of the song is girl 1 and 2 are nice, and the things that happened were out of my control, but they were nice people; girl 3 is the cheater, and 4 the prat who said I should write a song.
Vixen - Part 1, 2, 3, & 4
Heather, you were the first
Opened my heart, showing it love,
You moved away, so far
To the other side of the world,
Amy, were tempting me?
Flattering me with your eyes?
I'll never know, I never knew,
I lay in bed, thinking about you
A bitch after saint, who only fucks with you brain
Day and night, day and night,
Every foot step you take, everyone morning when when u wake,
She's there, creeping around
Cecilia, who were ya?
Everyday u lied to my forgotten face,
You ruined me and the pain still stays,
But I'm stronger now and I'm glad u are gone
Emma, confused by those games that you played,
Please explain the rules,
Why move when your in the right place,
Why ruin what you wanted made,
A bitch after saint, who only fucks with you brain
Day and night, day and night,
Every foot step you take, everyone morning when when u wake,
She's there, creeping around
Its all fake, its all lies, there's nothing pure, nothing innocent,
The deceit, the cheating the one night stands, the winning that's all they understand,
That"s all they gave out
Written early 2007
Watch this space, for more stories about my songs
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
The depression began after a long term relationship spanning three years ended. I ended it. For a year I had tried to keep the momentum going, tried to keep it interesting and special. But to no avail. I would call her (as the relationship was long distance), and she would say she was busy everytime. I should have guessed, but it isn't easy to admit to yourself, this ain't going anywhere. Anyway the split took me a while to get over - a year to be precise. I was becoming more content with everything, until a bomb shell. I had a dream where she had been having sex with another man, and in this dream the man was provoking me over the telephone. I woke up, feeling horrible and sick. I told her all about it. Didn't hear for a week. Didn't think anything of it. Why would I? Then I received a text 'I need to tell you something'. I logged onto yahoo messenger whereby she proceeded to tell me all about it. Her cheating. Over the phone, with another guy. I was hurt. What was worse though, was the cheating had been going on for a year. When I was with her. During the times I was calling and being declined. When I was trying and it was being pushed away. I was hurt and become quite depressed.
Years later, I am in campus, drinking juice and meeting the present lady at the time. She begins, but I already know where this is going. It has been a week. One week. And already. 'This isn't working' she said. Here we go. We discuss it. As we depart amicably she exclaims 'u can write a song about me!', with humour written all over her face. I don't think she is aware I took her up on her advice.
I needed an outlet. The ex who cheated on me still affected me greatly. And so I did write a song, which turned out to be one of the most therapeutic solutions to my problems. Based around the Kelly Jones album 'Only the names have been changed', where he sings about women in each song, and how dirty and nasty some can be, was central to the song I have written. Kelly Jones used fake names; whereas, I did not. I wanted the song to be as honest as possible. The structure of the song is girl 1 and 2 are nice, and the things that happened were out of my control, but they were nice people; girl 3 is the cheater, and 4 the prat who said I should write a song.
Vixen - Part 1, 2, 3, & 4
Heather, you were the first
Opened my heart, showing it love,
You moved away, so far
To the other side of the world,
Amy, were tempting me?
Flattering me with your eyes?
I'll never know, I never knew,
I lay in bed, thinking about you
A bitch after saint, who only fucks with you brain
Day and night, day and night,
Every foot step you take, everyone morning when when u wake,
She's there, creeping around
Cecilia, who were ya?
Everyday u lied to my forgotten face,
You ruined me and the pain still stays,
But I'm stronger now and I'm glad u are gone
Emma, confused by those games that you played,
Please explain the rules,
Why move when your in the right place,
Why ruin what you wanted made,
A bitch after saint, who only fucks with you brain
Day and night, day and night,
Every foot step you take, everyone morning when when u wake,
She's there, creeping around
Its all fake, its all lies, there's nothing pure, nothing innocent,
The deceit, the cheating the one night stands, the winning that's all they understand,
That"s all they gave out
Written early 2007
Watch this space, for more stories about my songs
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
Reinventing Kats
I had been (or currently am still) in a band named Hercules Mandarin. They are a fantastic wee collective of different Scottish musicians, who have combined their talents to create tradition Scottish music, couple with acoustic and rock sound. One of their best know songs is 'Kats'. A beautiful number that becomes upbeat. Written by Christopher Rodgers, it is a great wee song, which I am honoured to play with the band.
So I, late last night, decided to begin the process of doing a cover of this song. I listened to a live version of me and the band at The Mill, Glasgow, and thought it sounded great. So I want to make this version of 'Kats' distinctly different from the original. So I have begun the process of reinventing 'Kats' by using only bleeps, pitches, tones and cut up drum beats. Similarly to the format of 'In the Mix'. Sounds quite interesting at present, but I will need to keep working on it. I stopped mixing it at about 5am last night. It is an awkward song to mix with all the bleeps. So I will really need to look at the song again, but I am excited about this remix of 'Kats'.
I will also over the next while try to get something for the 'The Caged Foundling' lyrics I recently wrote.
Watch this space,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
So I, late last night, decided to begin the process of doing a cover of this song. I listened to a live version of me and the band at The Mill, Glasgow, and thought it sounded great. So I want to make this version of 'Kats' distinctly different from the original. So I have begun the process of reinventing 'Kats' by using only bleeps, pitches, tones and cut up drum beats. Similarly to the format of 'In the Mix'. Sounds quite interesting at present, but I will need to keep working on it. I stopped mixing it at about 5am last night. It is an awkward song to mix with all the bleeps. So I will really need to look at the song again, but I am excited about this remix of 'Kats'.
I will also over the next while try to get something for the 'The Caged Foundling' lyrics I recently wrote.
Watch this space,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
Sunday, 18 July 2010
A Caged Foundling
On a train. From York. Listening to Nine Inch Nails giving me inspiration, I recently wrote these lyrics. They are about a gentlemen I know who from a young age was abandoned by his family. He is elderly now and has never known any of his family. To make his situation worse, he has been institutionalised his whole life. This is a song about him.
The Caged Foundling
New eyes stare, innocence wide and open,
Tiles hang on ceilings cracked, above dry paint that peels,
In rags, abandoned; a cradled misunderstanding,
Never growing familiar, never the chance to grow, never the chance to know,
And if only he knew,
A caged foundling,
If only he could comprehend,
The unjustified acts of god
From newborn to elder, smothered beneath his hollow shelter
What misdeeds led to a fate so ill, so quiet, so broken, so still,
I see him, beyond prime, no beginning to end, no time left to go
No memories of bygones, his worlds gone by, gone by his window, he stares out at night,
The gentlest charmer, struggles to speak, as his creators lie, buried, in guilt,
All he knows, an undiscovered maze, superficial, all he wants, is to know,
Sitting there, so alone, so broken and blank,
He answers the unknown with a questioning stare,
A ponderous caged,
A caged foundling,
Foundling forever
(Written - 18/07/10)
Watch this space,
Wullae
The Caged Foundling
New eyes stare, innocence wide and open,
Tiles hang on ceilings cracked, above dry paint that peels,
In rags, abandoned; a cradled misunderstanding,
Never growing familiar, never the chance to grow, never the chance to know,
And if only he knew,
A caged foundling,
If only he could comprehend,
The unjustified acts of god
From newborn to elder, smothered beneath his hollow shelter
What misdeeds led to a fate so ill, so quiet, so broken, so still,
I see him, beyond prime, no beginning to end, no time left to go
No memories of bygones, his worlds gone by, gone by his window, he stares out at night,
The gentlest charmer, struggles to speak, as his creators lie, buried, in guilt,
All he knows, an undiscovered maze, superficial, all he wants, is to know,
Sitting there, so alone, so broken and blank,
He answers the unknown with a questioning stare,
A ponderous caged,
A caged foundling,
Foundling forever
(Written - 18/07/10)
Watch this space,
Wullae
Thursday, 15 July 2010
The Return of To Whom this May Concern
To whom this May Concern. One note. A suicide note to be precise. Dark, uncomfortable and cold. That is the idea surrounding the song. A person at their end; who feels so low that they can't go on. This song was written back in 2006 and recorded numerous times. It had been lost when I got away from all that being depressed stuff, and had got my head together and moved on. But in the context of 'In Cloud Cuckooland', it made sense to look at it again. To re-record it, but bigger and better. To not alter the song too much, but really to try and give it new light. And so tonights process was exactly that.
I had a 4 hour or so window, free time, instruments and the means to record before me. I decided it would be tonight. I began by learning the acoustic section of the song. Took me a little bit of time, listening over the old version and working the song out again. Got it, boobam, after 3 attempts the acoustic part was done and sounding classy san diego! 
Moved on to the piano part, which kept the song alive. A beautiful flowing piano that is awkwardly, but nicely arranged with the acoustic piece. After numerous attempts (this was far harder to record) the piano was recorded. Sounds even better than the originals. After which I recorded the synth. A few attempts and done. Tried another layer of synth and didn't like it. Too much.
Added the backing vocals; haunting. Worked on the vocals, but in a quiet fashion as to not disturb the neighbours down stairs. Not perfect conditions, but have to work with what I have got. After that I added the bass. Easy to get the sound right, little less bass and more tone, and recorded.
The song, sounding remarkably like the old version but much better quality, I decided to try some new additions to it. I began recording a large lead section from when the drums kick in. Yes, I recorded the drums too, but was interupted at that point by my brother-in-law, and a bowl of pasta. The guitar lead was good and interesting, but just did not fit in the song. So, I have deleted this out from the recording.
So in a 4 hour window, I have been able to re-record one of my better older songs. It is still not finished, but when it is I will put it up on myspace and soundcloud. I still have top record the vocals and footer with the sound levels and such, but it is essentially there. A good nights work.
To Whom this May Concern:
I will pray, but no one will listen to me
I am cold, and lonely
Too much time, to think of the consequences
I am cold, and lonely
Deep inside, my heart, the beat has gone
I am cold, and lonely
I am cold, and lonely
Written in 2006
Watch this space,
Wullae Wright
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
www.soundcloud.com/wullaewright/tracks
To Whom this May Concern:
I will pray, but no one will listen to me
I am cold, and lonely
Too much time, to think of the consequences
I am cold, and lonely
Deep inside, my heart, the beat has gone
I am cold, and lonely
I am cold, and lonely
Written in 2006
Watch this space,
Wullae Wright
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
www.soundcloud.com/wullaewright/tracks
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
The Wheres and Hows
To hear songs from 'In Cloud Cuckooland go to - www.myspace.com/wullaewright
To hear songs from 'After the Rush Hour's Gone' got to - www.myspace.com/aftertherushhoursgone
To hear songs from 'Be Lucky' go to - www.myspace.com/wullaewrightbelucky
To see up dates or leave comments on my music go to - www.twitter.com/wullaewright
To hear new and unheard tracks go to - www.soundcloud.com/wullaewright/tracks
To read song lyrics go to - www.lyrics.com/wullaewright
Watch this space,
Wullae
Be Lucky gig. October 2007
Monday, 12 July 2010
Sunday, 11 July 2010
The End of the Mix
Right now I have earphones in, chilling, jeans on, after work. I'm tired but happy. Happy that I have now finally finished the for-now titled 'In the Mix'. My mp3 player is splurting out the mess I have created, and I am enjoying.
I edited the vocals throughout the night, and changed the pitch and tempo at different bits. I chopped and changed vocal arrangements. Cut up and plotted over the wavy blue lines. Gorgeous. An electronic dance mix, which I have never written before. It is all new and exciting to me. I will put it on myspace when I get the opportunity. All I say is,
Watch this space,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
End of the Mix
I edited the vocals throughout the night, and changed the pitch and tempo at different bits. I chopped and changed vocal arrangements. Cut up and plotted over the wavy blue lines. Gorgeous. An electronic dance mix, which I have never written before. It is all new and exciting to me. I will put it on myspace when I get the opportunity. All I say is,
Watch this space,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
End of the Mix
Saturday, 10 July 2010
The mix has a voice...
So comfortable with the time I had, and the means of recording, I began the vocal process. Grabbed my leads from my white cupboard, fired computer up, got Zoom pedal and microphone, and set it all up. Didn't work a few times when tried it. No obvious reason why it does that sometimes, but it does happen. Got audacity up and running, witnessed all the wavy lines and though 'let's get a voice for this'.
Image of 'In the Mix' at the time of Mixing
To record the layers of vocals, I use Making Waves, which I prefer to record with initially. Got a repetitive vocal looping of 'I'm always running'. Recording quality is really good, but the song would be very boring with only this lines. So differently timed, I also added 'from the shadows, they hunt you down, and steal your soul'. Works well. So then added another vocal arrangement. This one a little more melodic and seems to have worked out well too. The only the problem with the song is the lyrics. Feel I could quite possibly get something better, but at the moment I shall work with these. At present I am editing the vocals to try and arrange them in an order I feel is appropriate for this song.
I will hopeful have this song finished over the next while, and will have it up on myspace for you and the rest of the world to listen to.
Watch this space,
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
Sunday, 4 July 2010
In the Mix - Midnight Hours
It's 01:15 at the moment as I gaze at the small clock on my computer monitor. I can see the wavy lines of the recorded music, blue snaking across the screen. I hear the wind lash the outside world, and a lone truck driving past in the distance. The world is so quiet, yet I am trying to finish my song. It is still in the mix at present. Thought I had it done, just to add singing and that's it. No. I'm trying some more stuff. Got to admit, I'm tired. But sometimes that is when I can things done.
I have messed about with random samples of music I have recorded before; I have also tried more tones and edited pitches, using phaser and echo effects, all to no avail! Began work again, and have realised that nothing new added is the best thing.
What I have done however is look through one of my song folders and found a really good acoustic version of 'Putting the Monster in the Box' - a song about bipolar disorder. It is a good recording.
Putting the Monster in the Box - Track 4 on 'In Cloud Cuckooland':
I'm safe, so very safe
Put the monster in the box
Beware in stares into your soul
Blackened eyes, horrid fangs
It waits, and waits, and waits,
It peers through the peephole,
Slips through the gaps to smother me, and my thoughts,
I'm safe, so very safe
Keeping the monster in the book
To me to you, to me to you
Breathless and I don't know what to do
Those thoughts aren't my own
My own thoughts are not my own
The room is padded but it feels like it's made of stone
The room in my head keeps spinning
The room around me keeps spinning
My feet above me keep spinning
My neck twists and keeps on spinning
Keep the monster in the box
Please keep the monsters away
(Written 20/08/2009)
Watch this space
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
I have messed about with random samples of music I have recorded before; I have also tried more tones and edited pitches, using phaser and echo effects, all to no avail! Began work again, and have realised that nothing new added is the best thing.
What I have done however is look through one of my song folders and found a really good acoustic version of 'Putting the Monster in the Box' - a song about bipolar disorder. It is a good recording.
Putting the Monster in the Box - Track 4 on 'In Cloud Cuckooland':
I'm safe, so very safe
Put the monster in the box
Beware in stares into your soul
Blackened eyes, horrid fangs
It waits, and waits, and waits,
It peers through the peephole,
Slips through the gaps to smother me, and my thoughts,
I'm safe, so very safe
Keeping the monster in the book
To me to you, to me to you
Breathless and I don't know what to do
Those thoughts aren't my own
My own thoughts are not my own
The room is padded but it feels like it's made of stone
The room in my head keeps spinning
The room around me keeps spinning
My feet above me keep spinning
My neck twists and keeps on spinning
Keep the monster in the box
Please keep the monsters away
(Written 20/08/2009)
Watch this space
Wullae
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)