Guidance Hymn (Pt.1, Bilks)
In much the same way as an egg will always precede the arrival of a chicken, so too does this dichotomistic title reveal a similar curiosity, for should one see fit to organise the letters in a more sensible fashion (or, for those a little more susceptible to trends, a fashionable sense) the name of Lindsey Buckingham would be revealed as an anagram thereof it. And I bear no shame, the outstanding Buckingham Nicks album from 1973 was a big inspiration. But then so was Pig Destroyer’s Terrifyer and yet the song’s not been called Eye prefers gidiot; though the idea of making an acoustic grindcore album was given far more than simply a passing consideration.
And probably soon, because the lyrics have already been written. They simply need a blistering canvas beneath them; a feast of death and revenge freshly simmered above the bowels of hell itself before being extracted by an amateur chef and served cold to restless guests via the stale medium of shitty, acoustic guitar dramatics.
It’ll be great.
And so what exactly does Guidance Hymn (Pt.1, Bilks) have to do with the esteemed Mr Buckingham then? Nothing really. At least not beyond the mere acoustic nature of it. And the fact that we both happen to share the same birthday, which I found slightly interesting. And the same astrological sign too, albiet two full cycles of twelve years apart. And we both foster the same bilious hatred of guitar picks. All of which is essentially pointless knowledge for one to share, let alone remember I suppose, except for the fact that I’d learnt of these coincidences long after I’d been courted by the dynamic, uncompressed wooing of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, which strangely seemed to render all of these insignificant details far more important (to me, at least - and at obvious length!) and placed upon them far greater a weight than sensibly warranted.
Bah, my apologies! For never has one dallied his audience so terribly before the first commercial, and never has an ill-watered audience longed so desperately for the drag of the intermission curtains ...
And so here be a slight, yet glorious, reprieve.
Oh yes, and after having made several attempts to quicken my fingerpicking whilst in the order of p-i-m-a-p-i-m-a-p-i-m-ad nausem, I stumbled across this interview, which covers in great detail Lindsey Buckingham’s songwriting process and playing style. And so I reversed the pattern and met with immediate success. And wrote a song in celebration of the fact.
The structure of this piece once again isn’t typical of the writing formula I'd normally employ when working on other TNB projects because I have a tendency to get very, very bored, very quickly; partly due to a short-circuit regarding my wariness of listener fatique, and partly due to my inability to hold any decent sense of rhythym for too long. Thankfully, both of these afflictions that can be somewhat overcome (overwhelmed is a more appropriate word perhaps) by the random insertion of as many tempo and chord changes as possible in as quick a time as plausible, without things getting too ridiculous. And even then, ridiculous is often a damn sight better than boring, for (like Holden Caulfield) the sound of people yelling “Digression!” will always be preferable to silence.
And so the length of Bilks’ verses can be explained by way of the song having initially been written as a demo for our band; a courteous platform of space and time freely given to our lyricist/singer around which to weave his poetic language. The same is also true of Belphegor’s Dupuytren. And Filth to some extent also, which is resident on the album but under the new guise of Squalor.
But I've already told those stories ...