Heaven by Messengernut

Late December 1999

Which moments belong in a story?
In a way all moments do, but then the story itself becomes just another moment.
So here is the story of a moment, and some songs to go with it.

Mike and I are living in Liscard near Liverpool, at Bracton, a large house of flats opposite a grand, but small building on the corner of Central Park that we call ‘The Reichstag’.

Out of the organised chaos of our musical experiments we’ve got some ideas based around my songs, samples of our favourite records and our ongoing conversations about the absurdities of life. We cut loops on a very clever CD player and jam. We sing one Beatles song to the tune of another. Someone is always playing guitar. We cook and get wrecked and make each other laugh.

We book some studio time at The Real People’s place in Birkenhead and start knocking three songs into shape for the sessions. Our neighbours gift Michael a small single string African instrument with a resonant gourd. An ornament really. He tunes it to play a drone with an old violin bow. I find a drum loop on a Neneh Cherry track, and ally it to an old song called 'Ah,This Is The Life' that I wrote on Mike's electric 12 string a few years before. Mike's reading The National Enquirer and finds a story about a man who brought gold back when he returned from the dead. He writes a short lyric around the story, and it fits in perfectly with my old tune. The song is ready now and gets a new title. In a similar fashion another two come along, 'Sunday Morning' and 'Out Of The Blue'. Reinventions of old ideas that Mike has encouraged me to hear in a new way.

Michael is always encouraging of my ideas, and always happy to play. It’s a golden time. Just before Christmas we start recording.

Our friend Thomas Henry is around a lot. He loves the vibe and the music, and starts to sing the parts I struggle to at the tail end of Heaven. He makes harmonies for my chorus parts and generally just makes everything sound even better. He's a joy in the studio later, and works tirelessly with Ciaron to make layered harmony parts for 'Sunday Morning' that lift the music even higher. Mike and I have a lot of fun with Tommy.

Chris and Tony Griffiths (The Realies) are very welcoming at their studio on Conway Street in Birkenhead. It was a radio station at some point. The main room is a huge cold concrete box, but the little control room is warm with bodies and equipment. Ciaron Bell (engineer and producer) is enthused about the material and does great things with it throughout the sessions.

Mike’s earthy, anarchic, and mystical vibe works perfectly in this environment. He’s immediately the star of the show.

'Frosty The Snowman (Kidnapped All The Kids & Sent Them All To Hell)' becomes an anthem for the sessions. Mike keeps reminding us that Santa is an anagram of Satan. Everyone invents verses about the errant snowman’s nefarious adventures. We laugh a lot, and the work thrives. I’m relishing the air of creation and loving the transformation of our ideas into modern music. Mike’s playing is inventive and natural, he’s in his element.

Over the three days I lose count of Michael’s flashes of genius.
He’s always playing, tinkering, adapting and experimenting. Most of his labour ends up on the tracks. An old and broken Gibson SG becomes his slide guitar. The African ornament becomes the backbone of a song. He revives a battered 12 string guitar without much future, and makes a tricky middle eight into a total delight. His bass and guitar playing are authentic, organic and spontaneous, never clichéd. His production ideas are hip and simple. He mostly nails his parts first take.

The slide guitar on 'Sunday Morning' deserves particular attention.
Returning from a sneaky reefer in the street, Mike tells us he just met a man who told him that Lowell George (departed leader of the much loved Little Feat) wants slide guitar on the tracks. We said ok. So Mike takes the Realie's battered Gibson SG, that he's been tinkering with since our arrival, and goes into the main room with a crunchy valve amp. We run 'Sunday Morning'. He plays it ONCE all the way through. Every note ends up making the cut. Every.....note....

After the sessions, elated and exhausted, we listen back home at Bracton. We agree that both of us are well represented in the music. We’re made up. Job done. Michael is happy. A few weeks later we get some copies pressed and one of them finds its way to the Radio City Round Table show. Mike and I are sitting in his car outside our practice space in Liverpool when the show comes on the radio. They're playing 'Sunday Morning'.
Local luminary Pete Wylie says "well, who passed out the mushroom tea?" Day made.
I can still hear Mike's laughter echo around Temple Street.

The EP is called ‘Heaven’. It’s some of the best work I’ve ever done, and Michael put his heart and soul into it.
The art is from a mural my brother Daniel and I made in his bathroom, long since painted over when Daniel left the flat.
Some moments are forever.

Happy heavenly birthday Michael

16th December 2024

msamson + PLETHORA OF SUPERHEROES MAKE MUSIC TO PROVE LIFE WORTH LIVING