Tom Liston – opening chapters

tom-liston-cover-2

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Slate1eBooks

ISBN – tba

2017

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Tom Liston

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Novel is dedicated to:

Ignaz Semmelweis (1818 – 1865)

and the NHS

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England, 1855

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The Arrival of Steam

         A steam engine pulls two carriages packed with passengers and the railway’s shareholders as it thunders through the Cotswold Hills. All are there to celebrate the ‘first run’ of the railway built and paid for by an enterprising public and shareholders.

         Inside a carriage a tall man stands to pass a drink to one of his fellow passengers. Suddenly outside of the carriage there is the sound of a large crowd screaming in horror.

        The steam engine flashes by; well wishers on a nearby hill watch in horror as the steam engine’s brakes screech, railway lines bend, a wheel rolls off the engine, one of the carriages sways off the rails, glass windows shatter, metal snaps.

Men, women and children who had gathered to see the first run of the train turn and flee for their lives.

         The train slides to a halt, steam floods through the carriage windows, passengers look terrified. Screams, sound of twisting metal and cries for help can be heard off and on the train.

Silence.

        The steam engine now rests in its side. The man who had risen to pass a drink to a friend lies dead on the grass.

        The crowd who had gathered to celebrate the arrival of the steam train now scramble to help the injured and recover the dead.

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South China Sea

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HMS Hyacinth

        HMS Hyacinth cuts through a rolling sea. She is armed with sixteen 32-pounder carronades, the sails from the twin masted brig sloop billow as she catches a fresh wind.

In the distance flames and smoke rises from several Chinese villages as Hyacinth continues her service in the Second Opium War. She had a proud, efficient crew and an excellent surgeon the Captain liked to boast about.

Ten soldiers lie on the deck, some cry out in pain, a few are bleeding to death. Blood runs over Hyacinth’s main deck and seeps into the wood of the ship.

Mr. Christian, mid teens, blood stains cover his hands and arms as he gives first aid to the casualties on the deck. With some difficulty he carries a bucket of water as he scurries along the length of the ship’s deck; occasionally he stops to give water to weary, tired, dying men.

A soldier’s body wrapped in a white sail is lifted by four battle scarred sailors. They rest it on the top of the ships rail.

A Sailor steps forward to push a needle through the dead soldier’s nose which finishes the stitching of the sail. A short silence, a few words of a prayer, then the soldier’s body is slipped over the side of the ship. It hits the sea hard with large splash, then a silence. For a moment the body floats, the white sheet slips away from the dead soldier’s head revealing his face; hIs eyes are fixed on the cloudy sky. Then he slips quietly into the sea to join his comrades who had died earlier in the day.

Tom Liston

        A small cabin below Hyacinth’s deck. Neat, tidy, clothes near to the bed. A shirt hangs over a chair with trousers and shoes close by. Nothing is out of place.

Tom Liston sleeps but he is not at peace, he is restless, agitated, the dream of a railway accident sears through his mind.

‘No! No!…..’

Tom, full of sweat, wakes violently from his dream. He pushes himself onto his elbows, then sits up. Tom is mid thirties, a handsome man, clean shaven, he swivels around to sit on the edge of the bed. He looks like he needs another twelve hours of sleep; he contemplates the day ahead.

Someone starts to hammer on Tom’s cabin door, which then slowly opens.

A thick set black African man slowly enters, medium height, mid thirties, he looks like he would be useful in a fight. He steps into the room. Sees Tom on the edge of the bed, he quickly moves towards Tom.

Tom moans at him, ‘Francois.’

Francois is alert, bright, he looks like he has been awake for hours, he speaks with a French accent.

‘Get up! Get up!’ Francois puts on a bad English accent, ‘your services are required.’

‘How many?’ Tom asks.

‘Who knows?’ Francois shrugs his shoulders, ’there’s a rumour we’re going home!’

Cool Under Pressure

Tom is a tall man, cool under pressure, never flinches when they are under attack. His staff trust him, nothing is to too difficult when Tom gives an order.

They often joke that Tom would carry on working even if a cannonball dropped into the corner of the room.

      Tom hovers above an injured British Soldier who lies on an improvised operating table. Tom’s apron is splattered with blood. He sweats profusely as he fights to save the life of the soldier.

The ship suddenly lurches to one side. Tom and his assistants manage to stay on their feet, continue to work. Suddenly blood squirts from the soldier’s body toward Tom’s face, he sways to avoid being hit. The sailor’s body writhes in pain, then stops.

Tom grabs a wooden stethoscope, he listens to the sailor’s chest.

‘He’s gone! Over the side with him. Next!’ Tom strides across the blood-stained floor.

The soldier’s body is dragged off the operating table. Immediately the body is replaced by another injured soldier.

Tom slips his hands into a bucket of water, Mr. Christian watches Tom as he washes his hands thoroughly. Francois throws Tom a towel, he catches it.

‘I’ve never seen that before, Mr. Liston,’ says Christian.

‘Seen what?’

‘A doctor wash his hands.’

Tom smiles.
‘Tradition,’ Francois from across the room, a smile on his face, ‘Mr. Christian, it’s a French tradition.’

‘Hungarian’ smiles Tom as he examines the injured soldier who is half conscious, ‘not French.’

Francois mops blood from the floor, he comes to stand by Tom.

‘You still haven’t told me why, in the name of God, you wear odd socks?’

Christian laughs.

‘My mother’s tradition,’ he replies with a smile on his face. He turns to Christian.

‘Mr. Christian! Water, we’ll need more water!’

Christian grabs a bucket and runs from the room.

  A  blood covered soldier strapped down to the operating table. He sweats, moans. Tom examines the patient’s mangled leg, he leans over him to whisper in his ear.                   

‘Be brave, boy, be brave,’ Tom hesitates then slowly leans over the soldier, ‘I can’t save your leg.’

Tom nods to Francois who turns to a cupboard and pulls out a metal saw and a long sharp knife.

Tom takes the knife into his hand then moves towards the patient on the table.

‘Time me gentleman, time me!’

Tom quickly makes the first incision, he works at speed, confident, assured. God knows how many amputations he has performed on this tour of duty. All the days roll into one, has he been away from home for three months or one year….

  The previous patient from Tom’s operating table is now wrapped in a sail. Four crew members lift the body and drop it over the side of the ship. It drops with a deep and heavy splash into the sea.

The gulls circle above.

Scream

        HMS Hyacinth rises and falls through a rolling South China sea. Her route lit by a full moon.

Through the darkness a scream rings out from the ship.

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England

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Memorial

        A stone memorial within a wide circle of stones. Three statures adorn the plinth: a man, woman and child. On the side of the plinth ten names, ten deaths remembered for a Railway accident.        

Mary Liston, smartly dressed, wears a hat, carries her gloves and a small bouquet of flowers. She is a  young woman, mid thirties.

She bows her head, closes her eyes. For a moment she drowns in a sea of emotions. A soft wind blows through the surrounding Laburnum trees.

Mary lifts her head, steps forward to lay her flowers against the plinth. She whispers a prayer, gently runs her fingers over two names on the plinth:

Robert Liston           Margaret Liston

        Mary turns, pauses for a second then walks away.

School

        A dilapidated warehouse masquerading as a school. A horse and cart are parked outside, a battered sign hangs by a thread on the side of the cart: “Piano Hire, Buy or Sell.”

A mother with her child run towards the school, she drags the boy through the front door.
A classroom door slowly opens and the boy creeps into the room and sits at his desk. He is the last to take his chair. The children are aged eight or nine. They sit at desks which are arranged in a semi circle.

In front of the children stands Mary, confident, independent, warm. She is a schoolteacher who has built her own school from local donations. She starts to move amongst the children who have slates to write on, a few have books. All the children could do with a decent set of clothes.

Mary sees her assistant Anne walk past the schoolroom door.

‘Anne, I disagree,’ shouts Mary, ‘our first principals are …’

Anne shouts back, ‘I disagree…’ She then enters the classroom with pencils, writing pads. As she comes through the door she trips up, drops the pencils, books onto the floor.

The children laugh. Mary helps Anne pick up the books.

‘Learning should begin with the child’s own experience, Anne. We should teach dance, singing…our first principle…’

Their discourse is interrupted by the sound of a large crash down the corridor, something heavy is being moved.

Anne steps back to the hallway to see:

two men pushing an upright piano on a trolley. She turns back to Mary.

‘Excuse me, Mary. I think our first principal is to save the piano.’
        Mary moves quickly to the door to see the school’s upright piano being removed from the school. She walks quickly down the corridor to rescue the instrument.

An ageing Mr. Duckett, the local piano tuner, and his young assistant push a trolley with an upright piano perched on the top. They are walk  towards the exit.

Mary walks quickly down the corridor to catch up with the men.

‘Mr. Duckett, wait! I thought we had it for another week?’

Mr. Duckett and his assistant stop. He looks at Mary.

‘Sorry Miss Mary, afraid we’ve have an offer.’

‘My brother can pay for it when he returns. How much?’

‘Seven and six a month,’ whispers Mr. Duckett.

‘How much to buy it?’

‘Twenty-three shillings.’

Mary hesitates.

Mr. Duckett nods to his assistant and they begin to push the piano out of the building.

Mary sighs, returns to the classroom.

Good News

A small teenage boy, Oliver, runs out of a shop, jumps on to a small buggy with a horse in harness. He speeds off.
        A man in his sixties rushes out of his shop, waves his fist at the departing buggy. He shouts!

‘Oi!’ he then smiles, ‘I want it back in an hour.’

Oliver drives the horse and buggy with skill, he speeds down the street.

After half a mile he is out of the town, he speeds past a disused railway station, half a mile further on he speeds towards Mary’s school.

Oliver approaches the school, he pulls up outside the front door, jumps off the buggy. He rushes past Mr. Duckett and his assistant as they struggle to get the piano onto their cart.

Oliver runs down the school corridor, finds Mary’s classroom and enters.

‘Mary,’ he catches his breath, ‘Miss Mary!’

Mary, a book in hand, quickly turns to face him.

‘What is it, Oliver?’

Oliver coughs, he can’t get his words out.

Mary moves closer to him to see if he needs help. He clears his throat.

‘Hyacinth, she’s back!’

Mary drops her book. Turns to Anne.

‘Go,’ shouts Anne, ‘go!’

‘ Oliver, this is not one of your tales?’

Oliver crosses his heart.

‘Hyacinth is home!’

Mary turns to Anne, ’the children?’

Anne grabs Mary by the arm, drags her towards the door, ‘just go, go!’

The children cheer.

Mary screams for joy; she runs out of the classroom with Oliver.

Dash

        Oliver drives the horse and buggy at speed away from the school. Mary hangs on for her life as he turns into the main road and narrowly misses running into a beer wagon.

‘Hey…’ shouts the drayman, as he swerves to get out of the way of Oliver.

Oliver and Mary speed on past open farm land, stables, isolated cottages,  a small church.

Oliver takes a short cut which takes them past a disused railway station. Mary glances at the station as they thunder down the road on the way to the docks.

Arrival

        Several ships are tied up at the East India Docks; all available space is crowded with tea traders, porters and labourers who push sugar from the West Indies, timber from the North, tea and spices from the Far East.

Mothers, wives, lovers, brothers and children struggle through the traders as they make their way towards the dockside to meet their men who have returned from the Far East.

Oliver is unable to get close to the dockside. Mary can’t wait, she jumps off the buggy, runs toward the ships. Mary runs as if her life depends on it. Dogs bark, young boys with dirty faces call out to her as she runs past.

Oliver stops the buggy and scrambles after her. He runs through the crowd, he dodges past a drunk with a dog, crashes into a trader and his fish cart.

HMS Hyacinth tied up to the quayside. Men have already started to disembark. A noisy crowd cheers, waves, smiles and cries tears of Joy as soldier’s leave the ship. Lovers kiss, families hug, happy to see their men home.

On the deck of Hyacinth Tom and Francois pick up their bags, walk down the gang plank.

‘Thanks for taking care of me,’ murmurs Francois.

Tom smiles, ‘where should I send the bill?’

‘Any tavern in town…’

Tom laughs.

       Francois rummages in his pockets, pulls out a note, he hands it to Tom. It contains the address of a pub:

Lamb and Flag, Covent Garden

‘Come into town, anytime, we’ll talk about the good times….’

‘That will be a short conversation,‘ remarks Tom.

They both smile, shake hands.

Francois throws his bag over his shoulder, walks away. Tom looks around, he had expected to be met. He walks off.

In the distance Mary sees Tom, she shouts out: ‘Tom! Tom!’

      Tom looks up to see her, he smiles. Mary runs towards him. He catches her in his arms. They hug and kiss on the cheeks.

‘Thank God you are safe,’ she whispers.

A crew member from Hyacinth who Tom had treated for a minor wound runs up to him and grabs him by the arm.

‘Mr. Liston, thanks for your help, thank you, thank you’

Tom shakes his hand.

The crew member walks away, then turns, ‘if you ever need a favour, look me up…’

Oliver finally makes his way through the crowd. Tom sees him approach, he holds out a hand which Oliver firmly grasps.

‘Oliver, thank you for coming.’

The three of them walk away from the ship.

Mary puts her arm around Tom, ‘how long will you be home?’

‘A few months,’ he replies, ‘how is the school?’

‘Good..’

‘I’m back at the hospital.’

‘Good, a safe, quiet life.’

‘Yes, safer than your school.’

Mary gently punches his shoulder. They walk arm in arm.

‘Have you managed to press gang more children?’

‘About a dozen, on a good day twenty.’                           

Mary looks at Oliver, ‘this one here is still thinking about it.’

Oliver smiles.

‘How was it?’ asks Mary

Tom hesitates, he lies, ’easy, not too many problems.’ 

‘No, really, how was it?’

‘Same as usual.’

Mary gives up on trying to get an honest answer. They walk away from the ship. Oliver runs ahead towards the buggy.

Mary looks at Tom with her best angry teacher’s face, ’Dr. Liston, you have my permission to take tomorrow off!’

‘And do what?’ he replies.

A woman and her small child run towards the ship to find their man.

Bingham

A man hides in a narrow alleyway close to Christ Church, Spitalfields. He is mid fifties, a short man, large spectacles. He wears a hat and a well used overcoat which is one size too large for him.

Bingham wears the overcoat more by habit than it being a necessity. Down the street he sees Francois walking at pace towards the church. He steps out of the alleyway, shuffles towards Francois. They meet, shake hands.

        Francois and Bingham steadily turn and walk slowly back into the alleyway.

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End of extract

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Ron Taylor

‘Drive’ – game in development

I’ve moved into game development. Taken six months (not full time) to get my head around using Unity 5 but all is well now.

First game will be a driving game, four scenes, music and effects. The driver will encounter various obstacles which drop into his /her route. Will publish ‘Drive’ by end of January 2017.

Second game will be ‘Pizza Boy’ – a  journey full of hazards which he has to overcome as he tries to make that delivery of the Margherita with giant french fries.

More to follow.

Drive – Scene One:

screen-shot-2016-12-03-at-14-41-44

Drive – Scene Three:

screen-shot-2016-12-03-at-14-44-28

Pizza Grab

pizza-grab-dev-scene-1

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Made with Unity 5

A Day in the Life – Tristan Noon

tristan-with-score
Tristan Noon                                                                                          Twitter @NoonWithATune
Photo by Susan Legg

What is the role of an arranger?

I always think of arrangement as a bit of a loose term as it’s almost like orchestrating, except you’re taking a pre-existing work and using that material to dictate how to arrange it further. For example, you could take a pop song, and instead of having the guitars playing chugging chords, you could split that out and have the strings from Violin I to the Double Basses playing the chord.

Also, instead of having a synth part playing a counter melody, you could then decide that you now want a vocalist to sing that line. Sometimes it’s a case of using what material is already within the song, and sometimes you’re free to add the music parts you wish, to make the arrangement different (I would say better, but often it’s very difficult to make an original classic song better!)

How do you split your time between: performing, arranging, writing?

My time split between those three can be very varied from one week to the next so it’s tough to give a definitive answer. When I was at sixth form, I used to play in a few bands but never anything serious. Although we were fortunate enough to play at the Isle of Wight Festival in 2013 and the following year (strangely, with another band). I very much enjoyed the days of gigging, but it was never something I was fully focussed on, which often means that you’re not dedicating your life to it and I think that’s what’s required to be successful.

I have always felt, especially in the music industry that you can’t half do something. You have to go at it like a bulldozer and really put your heart and soul into it. With gigging, it requires an enormous amount of spending money to rehearse, get to venues and get merchandise out there, which will probably make very little revenue unless you hit it semi-big. I was never interested in doing any of that, nor playing to two people in a darkened pub on a rainy Tuesday. Eventually,

I fell into the writing and arranging, which is how I now spend most of my time. I also do Music Preparation and Copyist work, which means getting all of the parts tidied in Sibelius (a notation software that most of us use to get music ready before tight deadlines) and then printed, sorted into pads (Trumpets, Horns, Tuba etc). Scores are then bound before being sent to the studio to be recorded. Often, copyists sit in on the session just in case anything needs to be reprinted or if a music cue comes in late and needs to be reprinted at the session.

Where did you study music?

I studied very briefly at the University of Surrey in 2013 as an undergraduate, but only stayed for about three months after realising that it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. It was mostly essay based and I just wanted to be learning on the job. Fortunately, I’d been meeting quite a few industry people when I was at sixth form, so I had begun to make a small amount of money which meant dropping out wasn’t as risky as it could’ve been. Around that time, I was at a Downton Abbey recording session and met composer Simon Whiteside.

A few months later, Simon was looking for an assistant and I was fortunate that he asked me. After that, I’ve been very lucky to do the things I that I have done, and have met many more people in the process. The whole business is about meeting people and forming relationships, which sounds like one horrendous cliche, but it is true. Since then, I got another job to assist Stephen Baysted, as well as the work for Simon, which keeps my job varied!

I also work on my projects with my own clients. I’m a firm believer in that you can write as many essays as you want, read about it as much as you want, but you can only ever learn and gain experience by being thrown in at the deep end. It’s really the only way I’ve ever known, and I’ve enjoyed every second, despite being in some very high pressured scenarios in studios and at my home studio.

tristan-at-the-piano

Photo by Maree Lock.

At what age did you get an interest in music?

I was a bit of a later bloomer in the way that I found music. I’d always loved the sound of the piano in particular from when I was in junior school, but never had the courage to get lessons. When I started secondary school I finally began to learn the piano and at one point had the intention of being a session player or a performer. However, once I realised my sight reading skills weren’t ‘up to scratch’, I realised that was a no-go. I began to push myself into writing songs and using music recording software at home.

I was into the Beatles massively around this time (year 8) and I was obsessed by their incredible melodies and harmonies. My parents aren’t musical at all, but my dad has a great CD and vinyl collection, so I got into music that way really. He used to play me lots of songs by The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Billy Joel, Simon and Garfunkel, so I was very much into that and not the music that all the cool people were listening to, so I was always a bit different to the rest of the kids in that respect.

I new a bit about modern music, but at the time I wasn’t interested. I just wanted to play The Beatles’ music all day, every day, trying to work out their chord progressions. It was only really around year 10 when I went to one of the BBC proms that I realised I wanted to be a film/television composer. Despite not being a Doctor Who fan, I liked the score by Murray Gold, so my dad and I went along to the Proms to see it. I can’t tell you the feeling that came over me that day. It sounds so cheesy, but I had this enormous desire to write to picture.

The BBC had a live orchestra which was playing along to a screen which was hanging down in front of the audience, playing the footage. I loved the feeling that the music gave you when it was juxtaposed with the footage. How one note or even a chord can hit you emotionally; make you laugh, feel sad or angry. I just loved the feeling that it gives you, and I still do. When writing to picture, I get a huge exhilarating feeling when I know that I’ve finally nailed the mood of the scene, having slaved over it for hours. Although sometimes it comes straight away; the picture is the inspiration.

Do you use traditional scores for your work or a computer?

90% of the time, I’m working digitally on my computer, so there’s no need for scores unless you’re lucky enough to get your music recorded by live players. If I’m at a session, there will always be a score to ensure that everyone can see what’s on the page. Usually one A3 copy of the score is needed for the conductor, and one for the composer. Then 2/3 A4 scores are needed for the engineer, assistant engineer and potentially anyone else sat in the studio. The copyist will read the scores from their laptop so that another one doesn’t need to be printed out. It’s a waste of money and paper otherwise.

Directors/all clients like to hear what we refer to as ‘midi mockups’ which is basically a digital demo of what the score will sound like (with samples) before it is recorded by a live orchestra. It’s too much of a risk for a production company to trust everything that you are creating is what they want before they get to the recording session. To stop this potential major drama occurring, the composer will mock up each cue using their sample libraries (digital sounds). Once that is agreed, it is then sent to the orchestrator to create the scores and parts for the players, then onto the copyist for tidying, and to be printed and bound. If there are no live players, the mockups are kept and used. This is most common on something that a BBC1 or ITV1 drama where budgets are tight, so fake instruments are used instead of hiring a real orchestra!

Which software would you recommend to someone just starting over?

You’ll need a powerful computer with at least 16GB’s of RAM, but I’d recommend 32 to be safer. You’ll also need a sound interface and lots of hard drives to store sample libraries on. In terms of orchestral sample libraries, your best bet is to head over to Spitfire Audio and Orchestral Tools. They are the best for orchestral samples, and most of the people I know use most of the libraries they produce! Things like a keyboard are useful, but you can get away with inputting notes into a sequencer manually. I use Cubase 8.5 as a Digital Audio Workstation, so I write all of music music in that program. It’s very intuitive to me and simple to use.

tristan-portrait
Photo by Simon Whiteside

You’ve worked at Abbey Road studios. How did it compare with working in other studios?

It’s a pretty amazing place, but just becomes any normal building after having been there so many times. Though I still get a buzz when I walk through the gates, up the stairs and through the doors into the hallowed walls! The sound of Studio One in particular is a favourite. The room has been treated so well acoustically, it’s hard to make something sound bad in there. The first time that you go it’s important to tell yourself that it’s just a job, you can’t be star struck or in awe of the place too openly.

Everybody is simply doing their job and nobody kicks up a huge fuss about it when you’re in there. The history of the place is impressive, and sometimes you pinch yourself when going up and down the staircases where you see all the framed photographs of the incredible musicians that have recorded there. I think the fact that The Beatles had so much history there is one reason it remains very special to me.

Any advice for parents?

Be supportive. Your kid probably isn’t going to be earning much for the first few years, but once they gain trust and experience, they’ll find their feet. Often parents don’t want their children to do creative subjects because there’s a stigma that there’s not much money in it. That can be true, but I know a lot of people that make a good living from music. At the end of the day, I’d rather do a job that I loved doing, rather than spend my whole life doing something I hated, just to earn lots of money…

The art of composition – it’s not over until the final mix

Below is an example of the art of composition and how music is arranged to create maximum impact. In the 1960s The Beatles worked on eight tracks, now a composer can create a piece using 20 or 100 tracks.

In a piece for the BBC, Tristan explains how the music was broken down into small individual parts.

“The high strings are providing the melody (1st violins and the violas in octaves for added depth) and the 2nd violins, and violas drive the music forward with the repetitive ostinato-like figure. The celli and bass play accented crotchets to further drive the piece.

The Horns are providing a counter melody and then a similar rhythm to the strings are at bar 16 with the trumpets and trombones playing the melody in 8va.
Synths are adding power and depth and more rhythm to the piece.
Percussion (and choir) drive the piece with their rhythms.

     ‘Over the Mountains’ – full piece

   Synths part only

   Strings part only

   Percussion part only

Example of score

Over-the-mountains-v6-1

Tristan Noon – CV

Tristan-Noon-cv-2016

________________________________________________________________

Tristan Noon
Media Music Composer | Orchestrator | Copyist
http://www.tristannoonmusic.com/
0794 8494 246
@NoonWithATune

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He Thought of Her

BED SHADOW

He thought of her
walking through a dense wood
or on a desserted shore.

Lost in her thoughts.
Drifting.
Dreaming.
Happy to be away from him.

She should escape more with her thoughts.
Explore the tranquility of space.
Massage her inner soul.

Yet when she returns
He knows she will want him.
Need his assured touch
His mouth, his love.

He thought of her
walking through the garden
skipping through the door
no need of anymore solitude.

His room.
His bed.
He waits.
Silence before a storm of desire.

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Getting started with Garageband for iPad

Double click on the Garagebend App.

 Select an instrument by swiping through the various instruments:

CHOOSE AN INSTRUMENT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Click on keyboard and it go full frame. You can then choose the size and type of piano you would like to play. 

KEYBOARD

 

 

 

 

 

 

You then see your instrument on the left hand side, so track 1 ready to record:

TRACK ONE READY TO RECORD

 

 

 

 

 

 

Press record and off you go. You can either have a metronome running or turn it off.

You will get GREEN image to show how many bard you have recorded. I have  only recorded four notes. 

TRACK ONE OPENING

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you are mutli-tracking, Garageband is very easy to use. You can built up tracks ready to mix down to one master track. I have recorded four tacks to overlap the sounds. 

 

ALL FOUR TRACKS

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you have several piece of work in Garageband your opening page will start to look like this:

MY CATALOGUE - ;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

When you want to share your track you have quite a few options:

E-MAIL A TRACK 

 

 

 

 

 

More to follow re accessing sound effects and adding reverb etc etc etc 

Unfortunately you do not not get a score with Garageband.

Beach – film in a single day

RUSHES4

Occasionally I like to set myself the task of making a short film in a day, using footage from one shoot. The limitations on how much I can shoot are the length of time the battery lasts and the amount of space I have on the iPad.

I have camera but I like the limitations mentioned above that force me to come up with succinct idea which doesn’t become major epic or a film which is going to take a few weeks to finish.

The music is a track I completed the other week, so for the purists, that is not something I did on the same day as the shoot.

Beach –  final edit.

https://soundcloud.com/telecine

Shoot and Edit Your Home Movies like a Pro (eBook with video examples + storyboards)

http://tiny.cc/iBookstore