A single 10 minute shot over a piano improvisation - also all in the one take. The words resolving the composition after observing a child anticipating a forthcoming flight, as we all prepared to board. A personal reflection on mortality at a time I was reconciling much personal loss.
I remembered after all this time, suddenly - from out of nowhere. A cake which never really got eaten. And will it be a thing like this I'll think of last?
A 'last ever' thought - for when the time comes.
On hospital watch at the bedside of a dear friend, the television on incessantly. I photographed the cosmetic fantasies projected out at us from the wall-mounted TV. All the more skin-deep as they illuminated those moments, in the fragile human reality of that room.
Now Treasured Isle
In the city there are places where you can lie there under nothing but the clouds, the sun. And if you know where - for all those times you walk on by - next time just go and lie down. No-one can stop you, not even you.
The Night Feeding Swan
A walk along the canal, late on a dark winter evening. A swan - oblivious to the cold - dives to feed in the still waters, the white of its plumage devouring what little light there is in the night.
Less than a minute, almost gone before I knew it. But I was still thinking about it after. A brief reflection upon every tiny little existence.
Go lie on the grass in the playing fields, no one can stop you. Listen to the city close your eyes, or keep them open if you want. Your little republic there where you are, rivers flow out from your heart when you take the time. Go lie on the grass and sleep, no one can move you along.
The Mountaineer Between Two Minds
An epic for that caterpillar. And I wonder about the butterfly it may have become, fluttering about in the early autumn sun, still. Or maybe just eaten not long after by a bird or, crushed under foot where we found it.
From the time when the national anthem was broadcast last thing at night. I'd look at the waves and think, how anything human could ever claim to rule such a magnificent raging.
Day For Night
An encounter with a woman all dressed in white on the beach. A conversation about the cold sea as waves of ice rose up all around us. I knew I was'nt coming back. A dream of death maybe, but not a nightmare.
28 years since given this beautiful handmade present of a fine, fine bodhrán and I do love bashing a jig out of its (always) perfectly pitched hide - and the way it makes me feel ... like I'm fused to the very rocks of this island. I continue to play with fingers alone in honour of the craftsman and the beast used for its skin, even if the intensity of the rhythm may sometimes tear my knuckles.
That evening I never really got round to switching on the lights. A friend suggests we sit under the full moon at the piano and leave our fingers just do the rest. Like nearly all improvisations I did’nt think much of it at first, but a listen back three years later and I hear resonances. Sound waves reverberating off strings, bouncing off walls, off the moon itself, and beyond to infinity, still reverberating today.
Take it on (Mark Corcoran)
Originally released on the lp 'If I speak False' . From the cassette release - Selected Songs on thirtythree-45 (2018). Visuals by Conor McMahon. www.thirtythree-45.com