Horse Trader

Lockdown, our self imposed quarantine adventure, has caused music to reinvent itself [like many other aspects of our existence] to accomodate the drastic changes to our everyday lives. Back in early April a few friends got together via the internet to hatch a plan of making a collaborative recording. I was on my own in a bungalow on a hill in Swansea, with just my cat, Arlo for company. [Terrific company he is too, very vocal and can be heard at the end of 'Let's Walk' mewing]. This was the humble but pretty environment that spawned the outline sketches of this project called 'Horse Trader'.
First of all this was going to be a King of Despair recording. [an old defunkt band we'd revived in 2019 after re-releasing our only album that originally came out in 2008 to no fanfare and disappeared immediately from the radar.] I didn't have any recording gear except for an old malfunctioning zoom palmtop. The rest of the band encouraged me to get an interface for my laptop. Huw Rees my old cohort drummer pal ordered me one online out of gig money I'd forgotten about and also one for Darren who plays bass. It also came with pro tools basic. I was up and running. Huw dropped off a mic and mic stand [ which broke almost immediately after I knocked it over]. I was delayed by not having an adaptor to convert my headphones from mini jack to jack input. I ordered one and waitied for it's delivery.
In the meantime I wrote some tunes on my acoustic guitar, gathered lyrics in my blue glitter journal and thought about the world and it's direction, mortality, higher realms, love, dreams, politics, science fiction, science fact and any other themes I could stuff into a lyric. I also familiarised myself with the mysteries of recording with pro tools. I'd say I managed to discover the gist of it, enough to let me record a rudimentary track and post it on to the rest of the band by digital transfer.
I waited and waited for the post to bring me the adaptor. Whilst that wasn't happening, Dai Godwin, the KoD lead guitarist, dropped out due to family commitments; leaving just me, Darren Beale [bass] and Huw Rees [drums]. I only had an acoustic and a bottom of the range yamaha keyboard to work with as all my music gear was up in Cardiff at my friend's house.
After 11 days of patient waiting, the adaptor turned up and I could begin recording. I set up the broken mic stand now taped together and propped waist high in front of the French windows that opened on to a big lawn overgrown with wild flowers that swayed in the breeze like a poem. I played my acoustic guitar to a metronome so Huw especially, had some advance tempo information. Over 6 days I recorded 10 songs with vocal and some keyboard overdubs. It was now nearing the end of April.
I sent the files to Huw and he added drums, then he passed those in two's or three's to Darren to add bass, and some keys. Darren was also finding that time was compromised by family and work. The project began to slow down. In that slack period I thought of who could be brought in to the fold to replace Dai's vocal presence and guitar; and also give the project impetus. I gave it some thought. They had to be friends who I felt had a soulful connection to making music and also possessed the recording gear for home recordings. I'd already sounded out Sarah Passmore [solo singer songwriter, Sarah and the Creepy Uncles] who sang beautifully on the last Cosmic Array album, another band i'm currently involved in. I then contacted my pal in London, Doug Stephens [The Cold Head, Modern Humans, Douglas Direct] to add guitar, bass and keys on a few songs, Bruce Fellowes [Filmore, Fire Chief 5, Cosmic Array] to add guitar, some bass, BV's and keyboards to four tracks, and Mark Estevens [The Adventurer, Jennifer's Parents, Everyone else but Burt, Sapphire Stylus among others] who played guitar and keyboards on one track.
They began to send back rough mixes of what they had done. It was inspired stuff. My parts had been done and now I was just a passive but enthusiastic listener to my digital mail, on an almost daily basis. The tracks magically came alive, spread their wings and cast their shadow over the land.
Once the tracks were complete our friend Josh Ace [Man, Omigosh and solo artist] mixed and mastered the whole thing. I was blown away by his interpretation as we'd not worked together in any capacity before.
There was a great amount of trust, love and encouragement from everyone. It felt like there was a casual but profound soulful connection with the songs. Every note seemed to be in the right place as if preordained.
I compiled an order that spanned the conceptual timeline of day to dusk to night to dawn. It flowed like a dream as if it had been meticulously planned that way, when in fact It was mostly lucky breaks.
It is a kind of journey and travel brochure of time spent in a productive bubble. Exploiting our isolation to make something shared between friends. I hope this album leads the listener to the artisitic work of all the contributors, as without everyone's time, energy and creative interpretation, there wouldn't be an album of such sensitivity . There are so many happy accidents that characterised this recording. So much blind faith. A lot of cameraderie and support.
Because we couldn't call it a King of Despair recording any longer, I named it 'Horse Trader', as in a sense, our fractured dystopian Western world has been created by the downgrading of the humane and been replaced with a selfish individualism. 'Horse Trader' fitted well, though I missed off the verse that mentioned the horse trading politics I was writing about in the track.
I'm dedicating the album to the memory of David Berman and William John Battenbough - both vociferous opponents of the Horse Trading politics of the soulless empire. both mentors of mine and both sadly missed. Tumbleweed was written for David. and Let's Walk for my Dad.
And a big thanks to everyone who made the magic happen and for entering into this recording project with such creative abandon. It was like providence decided to inveigle itself into the fabric of this recording. It feels channelled and ether-like. Whatever abstracts occurred, this is the testament, the document to that time we spent apart but in cosmic union.

Paul Battenbough 29 July 2020