The sun is blazing, the heat is rising and the land is still. There's a very special sound to a hot summer's afternoon. Summer wouldn't be complete without it. So here's a Suffolk field on one of the hottest days of the year.

A summer's afternoon in Suffolk

Sunset on Pilgrims Way

Robert Sanderson - voice & effects
Sharon Sanderson - field recordings (Lindisfarne)




The Crossing Place

Rooks and jackdaws flying into their evening roost.

Rooks at dusk

A late October evening on Westleton Heath, Suffolk.

Westleton Heath on an autumnal evening

Over the centuries the nightingale has flown in and out of the English national psyche, and its song has been an inspiration for musicians and poets throughout the ages. One of the cultural myths concerning the bird involved it jamming along to a cellist during a series of live recordings broadcast by the BBC, though it now seems likely that the corporation used the skills of a siffleur to impersonate the song.
This track is based on three variations of a dance by John Playford, and incorporates samples from the 1943 propaganda film The Demi-Paradise.
The nightingales were recorded on Westleton Heath in Suffolk.

sharon sanderson - field recordings 
robert sanderson - guitar & atmospherics

the myth of the nightingales

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGIcksqNMNU&list=UUbvdxwLAoYxz0SoKk8sqy2A

(words - 13th century English)

the man that by the hare is met
of him shall never get the better
but if he lays down on the land
that which he beareth in his hand
(be it staff, or be it bow)
and bless him with his elbow

and with well good devotion 
he shall say an orison
in worship of the hare

then may he well fare

the hare, the scotart
the big-arse, the bouchart
the scotewin, the skikart
the turpin, the tirart
the way-beater, the ballart,
the go-by-ditch, the soilart
the wimount, the babbart,
the scutter, the dewbert
the stop-out, the swikebert
the friendless, the wood-cat
the broad-looker, the broom-cat
the purblind, the furze-cat
the clumsy, the west-looker
the wall-eyed, the side-looker
and also the rollicker

the stubble-deer, the long-ear
the straw-deer, the spring-heeled
the wild-deer, the leaper
the short-deer, the lurker
the wind-swift, the skulker
the hare-shagger, the hedge-squatter
the dew-beater, the dew-hopper
the sitter-still, the grass-hopper
the fettle-foot, the fold-sitter
the light-foot, the fern-sitter
the cabbage-stag, the herb-cropper
the go-by-ground, the sit-still
the pin-tail, the turn-to-hill
the quick-arise
the agitator
the white-bellied
the go-with-lambs
the chump, the churl
the niggard, the coward
the make-fare, the breaker-of-word
the sniveller, the cropped-head

(his chief name is scoundrel)

the stag with the leathery horns
the creature that dwells in the corn
the animal that all men scorn
the beast that none dare name


 


Names of the Hare

the city opens up before us
like a syphilitic whore spreading her legs
enticing us in with her enduring old charms
sweet nothings and empty promises…

and soon we’re caught in the drag net of light-trails
of speeding cars and run-down bars
 of shops and cafes and flashing neon signs
saying open all night

down high streets and back streets we duck and we dive
from subways to stations
past chapels and brothels
and drunks in the gutter
past the junkies jacking up on the pavement
past the tin-whistler and the fight in the alley
and the shop window dummies
and the girls touting for business

well I’ve walked this world
walked every street from Kings Cross to the Reeperbahn
from the Damrak to the Zoo
and I’ve seen my reflection in every window
and every glazed eye
and at the bottom of every glass
and I’m still trying to find my way home


The World, The Flesh & The Devil

 from Amnesia Theatre http://thesacredplot.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/amnesia-theatre-from-mousehold-heath-to.html

She’s dreaming,
and this is where it all begins.

Her eyes are dancing in the dark,
dancing to the beat of the electrical impulses in her brain,
and this is where it all begins.

Random images,
edited, spliced together,
saturated colour – 

and this is where it all begins.

She walks through the streets,
walks through the city
and onto the heath,
then climbs up to the ridge above the tanglewood.

She turns around,
looks down at the vista beneath her feet – 
the cathedral, the castle, the churches
(one for every Sunday of the year)
and in the houses
the lights are going out
one by one by one by one.
Decent people are in their beds
sleeping the sleep of the just
behind their locked doors,
shuttered windows,
closed minds – 

and this is where it all begins.

A point of view shot – 
she is standing in the middle of the road
and a fish is lying at her feet.
What sort of fish is it?
It’s the strangest thing she’s ever seen;
it has twelve fins on each side
and each fin is red, 
as if dabbed with blood.

How did the fish get there?
How can it live in so dry a spot?

Pick up the fish.

She picks up the fish, and holds it to her bosom.
She cradles it in her arms, rocking it to and fro,
and as she strokes its head
it begins to move and grow
larger and larger at an alarming rate.

It grows so fast, so large and so fast,
that she can no longer hold it
and it slips from her grasp.

But instead of flopping to the ground,
it suddenly grows wings and takes to the air, 
and flies away.

It circles above her, circles above the city,
and then

it passes through the clouds,
disappears from view

and this is where it all begins.


Elviva was the mother of St. William of Norwich, whose murder sparked off a persecution  of the local Jewish community, and was the first recorded case of Blood Libel - an unfortunate episode which still has ramifications more than 800 years later.
She later claimed to have had a premonition of the life and death of her son in a dream before his birth.

The street recordings for this piece were recorded in Orienburgenstrasse, Berlin, in the vicinity of the New Synagogue, which was symbolically ransacked by the Nazis on Kristallnacht.

the myth of the nightingales

sanderson & sanderson

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