I described the sound of the text as the movement of the muscles in a horse race. A race that didn’t end. At first the horse travels with ease, yet soon, lactic acid builds up. The horse does not slow, yet it hurts. The horse knows there is no point in running anymore, but it can’t stop. Something won’t let him stop.
The text had a song, and it stuck on my head. The song of the horse. Why?? I have no idea. Sound for me has a shape, a picture, a story. I get carried away by it. I tell a story, or I see images dance.
When I dance in a night club I become high. I was almost kicked out of the Punch Drunk after party in Wapping Lane, and was asked what I was taking at the Reading Festival. I come at it like an energetic child who just needs to do, to move. I sweat. I sweat a lot. In fact it is probably quite unattractive. But I do not want to stop. People laugh, or stare, or want to join in. They try to mimic, but the can’t. I don’t want them to mimic, I want them to take what I am giving and dance with me, not at me. I want a harmony. Not a chorus, the two step in the corner that barely finds the rhythm. I find it occasionally. It makes me smile
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