Hello everybody once more from your Guillemots correspondent in Norwayland. Well, we have passed two weeks now in the hillside recording bubble, which is when our concentration spans usually start to wane. So we feel ready to return home on Monday. For six days. We have a gig at Rock Ness on the Saturday.

 

(*SEE YOU THERE, FOLKE OF SCOTLANDE?)

 

Events, however, are dramatic as ever. This morning I had to make myself a breakfast with two pieces of toast, some brown cheese - well, it's kind of orange, it's a Norwegian speciality, a kind of everyday caramel cheese - but anyway, the crux of this story is that there was just one egg. Just one. All the other eggs had gone. I was the last one up and I paid the price. And no sooner had I hard boiled this egg (too many days of scrambled with tarragon and chilli flakes - oh so inventive - so I decided to think outside the box this morning) and sliced it - with an egg slicer, of course, a kitchen tool of which, prior to these Norwegian visits, I had no experience - I dropped half of it on the floor. So I ended up having HALF AN EGG for breakfast. It's a good story that, isn't it. Moments of sheer excitement, an undeniable element of tragic, but ultimately, life-affirming.

 

Yours sincerely, Edgar.

 

Anyway. I won't begin to try and tell you about the music because, as we all know, writing about music is like dancing about architecture, or whatever the expression is.

 

(Dangerfield pauses to look at a siskin in his binoculars. Winks momentarily yet enigmatically at the camera, raises an eyebrow, and resumes typing)

 

Anyhow, making music on a hillside. I feel we have a lot to be thankful for. I really do love this. Four albums in a year. There's certainly moments we all have when we wonder why we've publicly committed ourselves to this undertaking - "are we going to manage it, wuuuuhh???" etc .. but then we put one of the tracks on or hear a new part or listen to them all in order or something, and everything makes sense. Kind of just feels like we have to be doing this. And as ever, those fuzzy listens before we go to bed, under the stars. It doesn't really get dark out here anyway. And the breeding fieldfares all start singing a ballistic chorus at about 2 each morning. Yes of course we've recorded them too. Can't make a summer record without recording outside. Anyway, it's really sounding, well, again, I won't try to describe it but it's. . yes! YES! Got to stress here too just how much an integral part of this Jonas is. Jonas Raabe is the man producing us out here and he's right there at the front on the biggest horse. Or something like that. He has a "speedboat face" which a lot of the songs summon up. Well it's a summer record innit..  .

 

Alright, I must get back to it. In the meantime here are some videos of us all looking like fools:

 

 

 

 

Fyfe x