Photo by Simeon Walker
It was the middle of November 2016 and overnight, we got what was not only the first snow of the winter, but also one of the heaviest and sudden snowfalls in many years. It had only been forecast for a small amount of snow, and waking up to everything being covered in a fresh, white blanket retained every bit of the magic of the occasions that you remember it having happening as a child.
We live right next to a beautiful park which is also on top of a hill, and one of the highest parts of Leeds. As a result, the snow was so deep, and it was bucketing down even more. The feeling of needing to go and be outside in it was huge. One of my favourite things about the experience was how a large expanse of space was suddenly transformed overnight into a completely different landscape; the silence eerie, yet pleasing.
On returning home, it just felt like a day to play the piano whilst watching the snow still falling outside. As I improvised around a repetitive figure, close between the hands, an idea formed very quickly, and this song turned into the elusive “write something in one sitting” situation. I’m usually very wary of this, and try to return to new ideas a day or two later to make sure they are actually good ideas, but with ‘Lull’ everything fell into place quickly, including the developmental rhythm part and the high-pitched haunting melody. The only alteration was the harmonic development towards the end with the addition of a few different chords.
The take used for the album was recorded later the same day. By morning the following day, the snow had completely disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, like a dream.
Text by Simeon Walker.