Notes from New Sodom

... rantings, ravings and ramblings of strange fiction writer, THE.... Sodomite Hal Duncan!!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

More Musicality

Got pretty much the final recording for Nowhere Town done with Maestro Williamson tonight, so having cobbled together the rough mixes of the last three songs what were waiting to be done, I thought I'd share them with yez. So, we has Incubation, which if ye've read the libretto ye'll notice has quite different lyrics than are in that. It took me a long time of prevaricating, but I finally decided that I had no idea what possessed me to go for a godawful rap/metal style of shite and clearly that rap had a silent c in front of it. So I decided, fuck it, and rewrote the thing entirely. The old Incubation, it really just needed to be put out of its misery. So here's the new one with the aforesaid Neil W on vocals -- lacking a wee bit of funky backing from the Fates, but essentially there:




Then there's Junkie for the Sound, which may or may not be missing some additional vocals. It's certainly missing some extra voices, cause it's really intended for Puck, three Regulars at the Vinyl Fix record shop and Jack, and all's we had was Francis as Jack and one regular and poor Neil trying to be everybody else at once. Anyhow, this is how it was pretty much written, but I started pondering on whether it was really building the way I wanted it to, and ended up trying out some fancy malarkey with verse lyrics for Puck to sing in countermelody to the Regulars verses. Reckoned that was a bit too ambitious for the noo though, would take a fair bit of hammering out and might not work in the end anyways, so we went for the basic original version.



And finally, of course, it's the finale, the grand medley/reprise/ensemble number, Love Lost and Found, which has always been sort of my favourite, on account of it being so shamelessly... well... musical-theatrical. I mean, come on, who doesn't love a good medley/reprise/ensemble number? OK, don't answer that, those of you who have no souls. Anyway, yeah, here it is:



We'll make it to Broadway yet, I tell you. Broadway or bust!

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