night gale from brokenword by gobscure

commissioned by disconsortia, 2020
supported by sound&music covid award 2020

nightingales move across europe, africa and asia to sing hard-won songs from woodlands. woodlands are now managed. yet there is always is new growth. during our worst sectioning we could only cope with watching trees yet had to deal with insanities of staff surrounded by torn books and press headlies - no word-salad but ward-salad. eventually escaping to sit on a rock in middle of river tees (above middleton-in-tees), watch milky way and sing our version of fiddle and drum (a joni mitchell song we knew only from cassette of june tabor in the eighties). narratives fucked, new songs are needed

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