Using object writing, select four distinct timbral and lyrical semiotic elements that define the theme without making any explicit references to the theme itself
Group Members: Matt Yapp, Rosie Mountjoy, Ophelia Neville
The object we chose to write about was a window frame. Our main idea for the song was to write about a family who had lost a close relative. In particular we were originally thinking about a family who had lost a mother/wife which meant there was a father left to look after the children. We had in mind a window of their house they had lived at for a long time because a window see’s everything, on the inside and on the outside, and it picks up age, smells, seasons. We thought we’d be able to create some hopefully beautiful imagery with this idea of a window.
As Rosie and I were ill at the time of performing, we thought it could be effective as a spoken word. I created a backing track which I felt could compliment the spoken word and where the instrumentation could also add some depth to our lyrics.
Here are some of our original notes we took when thinking about the lyrics:
Smell of rain
Smell of smoke
Washing on the line
Grass being trimmed
Cooking seeping through and the steaming up panels of glass
Double vision – you can focus on the glass of the window or focus on the moment the window is framing
Blank & industrial kind of window? Vast? Empty?
Old and grand? With rusty paint and holding the character and history of a house. Worn.
The dull dimmed noise of the outside
Or the muffled sound of the inside
It sees everything and it can distort things
Cold to the touch
It’s withholding me from reaching through?
The old white paint that we chose to paint those panels are peeling off
Close enough to hear the muffled warmth from the inside
But no breath to fog up the glass
Cold to touch
The muffled warmth seeps through
From the character filled haze
Distorted by those drops
But no more breath to fog up the glass
That yellow ochre paint we chose
Dressing the worn wooden panes
Peels and stains
Peels and stains
The barrier between you and I, me and them, and the world?
The season smells which lined our path
Now only memories left clinging to the frame?