Richard Youngs has been involved with music for most of his life. He discovered the power of the art form by thumping the family piano as an angry five year old. In the intervening 45 years he has attempted to harness the same experimental, naive, playful power in his live performances and in all of his 140 releases. This creative openness has led him to explore different musical genres.
He attempts not to repeat himself, every leap of faith is an expression of Richard Youngs’ essential Youngs-ness.
My listening has changed over time. I would like to think I can hear now what should and should not be presented in longform, what should be discreet, what should be edited, what should be allowed to run its natural course, what should be extended. And, once heard, this recognition can be acted upon or—when feeling perverse—ignored. Longform allows a freedom to roam, broadening possibilities.
And so, when I was invited to be part of this project I was in. For a while I'd been sitting on some recordings of street noise, wondering how I could ever use them. They were, I guess, field recordings. Played at double speed they acquired a Brands Hatch edge, a far cry from the easy sitting-by-a-stream new age ambience of many field recordings. Sped-up they gave me a direction too.
On Daybreak I have added a sporadic ebow bass and an occasional monophonic synth. The street noise carries the piece. The duration is determined by the tape length—one large reel at 15ips. It's mixed through a desk I have had since a teenager. There is no outboard and stereo panning. It is as direct and primitive as I could possibly make it. I wake up in a city, not by an ocean, and I wanted to capture the sound of my early morning.
Listen to it however you want, or ignore it.