Here comes 'Juice for the Baby'

My recording career began at age 13 when I was the soloist on a record (yes, your actual vinyl) called 'Here Comes Christmas'.   It was, not surprisingly, aimed at the Christmas market and as well as carols included readings of famous Christmas poems by up-and-coming actors.  I was a pupil at Watford School of Music and was chosen to sing the solos due to my, then,  angelic tones.

In those more innocent times, my parents allowed said angelic daughter to wait on a street corner to be whisked off, by a little known adult male,  to go to an attic studio in an unknown village.  Fortunately it was all very respectable; the studio was in a beautiful house that had once been in an inn and the man was more grumpy than lascivious.  

I could sing but I'd never been to a recording studio so when I was asked to put on the 'cans' I looked at him blankly - he looked irritated.   After several tries at 'cans', the word 'earphones' was deployed and we were away. I recorded 'We Will Rock You' and 'Away in a Manger' and was soon on sale in The Early Learning Centre. 

My family were incredibly proud and for years brought out 'Here Comes Christmas', to my huge embarrassment, every festive season.    Fortunately it was deleted long ago although copies of it lurk Dorian Grey-like in the lofts of family members.

And so we come to 2011 and I am 46 and making a recording of a very different sort with Spacedog.    As our funds are limited, we were forced to record at home and my house seemed the perfect location being relatively quiet.  Sarah's house is on a main road and many a time we've had to stop recording something while a bus goes past.  Added to this, her adorable little dog Dolly likes to 'join in' at inopportune moments.

So the three Spacedogs  assembled at my house where we created a temporary recording studio.  The house changed overnight, strewn with instruments, and looking less like a suburban house and more a branch of Maplins.  Generous friends had loaned us extra microphones and these were set up, with leads snaking round the house and perilously up the stairs, to where I was to work in my landing  'vocal booth'   

Sarah's background in acoustics came to the fore as she devised a cunning solution which involved hanging all the duvets I could lay my hands on from stepladders  Soon I was ensconsed in my multi tog nest with just a microphone for company, waiting like a medium for messages from the ether, or  more accurately the living room where Sarah and Stephen were recording. 

My children's lives were put on hold, literally, as they were discouraged from using the toilet and particularly flushing.  The problem with flushing, which doesn't occur to one normally, is that the noise goes on interminably. After the initial flush you get hissing and gurgling for around five minutes.   Five minutes of important recording time! The sound of a swirling cistern is the last thing you need on a sensitively crafted song; tends to ruin the atmosphere a jot.

With just three days to get ten tracks down, we worked like dogs (although not like Dolly) and kept ourselves going with our drug of choice, tea and crumpets - rock n roll. Reader,  we managed it!  There were a few tears, a couple of brief snappy moments, lots of giggles, occasional fag breaks for Stephen, a bar counting mental breakdown for me, but we did it.

For the past few weeks Sarah and Stephen have been hard at work on the production side.   'Juice for the Baby' is almost out of the door and we are launching it with two gigs on the 9th at the Marlborough in Brighton and on the 14th at the Horse Hospital in London (yes it really was once a hospital for gee gees). 

Oh and no one ever said cans!