On my first visit to The Love's house I suggested we play 'Favourite Hits' and while I played some junk by the Cure (I think it was If Only Tonight we could Sleep from Pornography) he played 'Fawn' by Tom Waits, the singular most beautiful thing I had ever heard. A single scratchy violin squealing out such fragile pain I turned to The Love and thought I Love You. But I didn't say that until the next day, when I found out he liked the cryptic crossword, but that's another story.
This man knew music. I was woozy.
The Love was a musician and I when I returned to Paris a few days after Favourite Hits he wrote some songs for me, which he sent to me on a burnt cd entitled 'Songs for Rabbit.' There were three songs on it, which he had composed on the guitar and got his friends to play on and done some other tricky things on it, but not too much as to make it sound cheap, just lovely, subtle things to add to the story of the song. The songs were beautiful and I listened to them on the crowded metro. They made my heart race.
When The Love moved to Paris with me he continued to make music in our studio and he would pull the big curtains shut and I would lie up in the bed on the mezzanine and listen and tell him where I thought the songs should go on the record and I would say the parts I liked and some parts I liked less but mostly I would lie there in the dark and be taken on rides from the wondrous imaginative planes he was creating, all the stories and the mad people and the cities and the streets and I would feel like when I was a kid and dad would put on Peter and the Wolf and my mind would go beserk. The music was pure and it came from such a well-mastered truthful place. It's so hard to keep that when you make things isn't it? To keep that little place pure.
Anyway, he did it and then he and I wheeled his guitar and effects board and my keyboard on a little clunky trolley all the way down the Faubourg St Denis to the Studio Bleu where we would buy Tsingtoa longnecks from the chinese épicerie and rehearse with a group of people the lover had collected around Paris and the lover had to fire a few musicians for doing too much wiggly stuff with notes (in particular a lovely frenchman and a crazy italian who thought he was Carlos Santana) and we made a show and then played it around Paris to promote the album and it was stressful and terrifying and fun, but mostly the music was terrific.
The album was called Here Their Dreams and an artist from Cornwall composed the most exquisite artworks for the cd panels of a man drowning playing piano and stacks of cats and a mysterious night château with a butcher holding an owl upside down.
When we got married, we played 'Fawn' as our bridal waltz and I dipped so low in the climax that The Love nearly dropped me. But the music and the moment was so magical I would have been happy to fall on my head and die, so I just kept going.
And then he created a new album and this time I played on the recording too and we recorded some of it in LA and some of it in Melbourne with a bunch of incredible musicians. It's called Motion Picture and it's being released today. You should definitely buy it, it's hard for me to advocate it, being part of it and being the lover of The Love who created it, but then again I'm a narcissist so why not.