(Transcribed from a journal entry)

Before anything, I knew that I had to record in complete silence, and in a time of day in which I would be neither too tired, nor energetic- preferring a calm, mellow state of mind. My reasoning for this owed chiefly to the fact that I knew multiple sonic elements would be occurring at once in the audio paper – I never wanted the completed piece to feel ‘hollow’ or ’empty’ – so in having a clean, uncluttered recording of my voice I could easily intertwine it with other audio.

I also knew that the length of the audio paper would require a certain kind of enthusiasm in my tone, by choosing a calmer time of day, I would be able to tow the line between not falling into pure monotonous monologue and overzealous commentary.

In my practice, I do not work with my voice – I do not hear it played back to me. Therefore, it took several failed recording attempts before I felt I had reached my stride, as I became accustomed to the sound of my own voice emanating through my headphones and speakers.

Rather than fragment the process by also working with other audio and music alongside it, I decided it was best to record all my speech first and I began following the script verbatim. Yet, despite me reading the script aloud on multiple occasions, once the microphone was at my lips, an unforeseen layer of stiffness seemed to befall my words. I began slightly adjusting the script as I went, without editing the initial script document in order to maintain a natural, conversational tone. Once I had the full recording of my voice, I ‘de-essed’ and removed microphone pops for even fuller clarity.

A unique creative challenge then emerged as I began introducing the various field recordings and pre-recorded music I had created in accordance to the script. The sounds began ‘directing’ my text, seemingly demanding more space between words, or calling for different annunciation to fit a certain mood characterised by the music. Also, it appeared that not all my prepared sounds would coincide naturally against my voice – faster or more rhythmic textures often clashed with the clarity of my words.