Something to do, someone to love, something to look forward to
Winter 2000. Writing. Familiar places. Corinna’s bungalow. Electric radiator. The occasional night on a li-lo. We record ‘The Double Shame’ into a Walkman. Chris’ brick veneer share mansion. It’s starker there. Open sleeping bags pretending to be quilts, Apartments records; Karen has a 23rd birthday on a Monday night. We laugh. ‘The Morning Road Air’ develops after a trip to the Wimmera.
Summer 2001. Rooms on Swanston St. We record on weekends and overnight. We bunker down. A ritual develops. A drink to end the night at a 24 hour hotel in Bourke St. First trams go by. We meet the second or the third. We find it easy to get parking tickets and decide some songs shouldn’t be recorded and that others need added things. Suggestions: that ‘Summer Dresses’ should beas light as a lemon mousse and that ‘Sleeping In The Afternoons’ reminds someone of a Rupert Bunny painting called ‘Endormies’; two turn of the century women sleeping by a lake of swans. We laugh.
Winter 2001. Mixing. We add things, subtract. The only old song ‘Ocean Bride’ takes shape. Cascade Lights, a 50′s knee length overcoat, the Spirit of Tasmania heading out into the black bay. We cross town all the time, play it back and forth from Punt Rd to Nepean Hwy. We’re never sure.
A title: an old Indian proverb spoken by Sydney surfer Mark Occhilupo. It’s written out, stuck in a kitchen. Write a line about it ‘I’m trying hard to live it by it now’. Decide quickly that’s the one. This is The Beautiful Few’s third record.
It’s called ‘Something To Do, Someone To Love, Something To Look Forward To’