Behind Calendar II // Shh!

This is the eighth of my ongoing series of blog posts on the Making Of my album as Granfalloon, Calendar - Chapter 2. To start at the very beginning and read my Making Of series for Volume 1, go here.

TRACK 8: SHH!

SUBJECT - An Argument

OPENING RAMBLE

I write these blogs in the same document file which means, as I begin this one,  I’m looking at the footnotes for the previous blog (chronologically speaking) ‘When I’m Drunk’. The last footnote reads “****The time it stuck anyway”. In the search for context, I’m sure we could embark on a round of “That’s what she said-isms” but I happen to remember that it refers to the amount of times I tried to move to Manchester.

The first time I tried to move to Manchester it obviously didn’t ‘stick’. I’d been on a promise of some cheap place to stay with friends which fell through on the day due to an unnecessarily jealous boyfriend flooding the flat above in the hope that trickle-down economics might put a stop to it. Which it did.

Stuck without somewhere to live, I ended up moving somewhere out of my price range and, in an effort to afford it, I took my one and only ever office job answering phones for the Post Office Card Account. My duties were twofold: reordering lost/stolen/mis-PINned cards and closing accounts due to the account holder having passed away. As it was connected to the DWP, there were a lot of pensioners who held accounts meaning it was a busy job.

They really didn’t know what to make of me there. As must be apparent by this point, I’m something of an odd duck. For one reason or another, either by choice or design, having missed out on some of the unifying experiences that most other human beings seemed to have had, I’ve been left a little out of step with whatever ‘normal’ seems to be. Certainly both I, and they, were wholly perplexed when, after being told by them to “dress smart”, I turned up proudly sporting a blue three piece suit from the 1970’s that I’d bought from St. Catherine’s Hospice for £3. The manager, Rob, promptly sent me out to the nearest Primark and told me to buy a white shirt and some black trousers. I thought my suit was smarter. It had a waistcoat, for heaven’s sake!

And poor Rob would always have to have words with me about helping the pensioners too much as well. But I’m not sure what else I was supposed to do. Here’s an example of one of my calls…

[DISCLAIMER: Obviously all of the names, passwords and personal details have been changed here]

ME: Gooood afternoon, Post Office Card Account Lost & Stolen. This is Richard. How can I help you?

ELSIE: Oh err hello? This is Elsie Munning speaking. I need to order a new card please.

ME: Of course. I just need to ask a couple of security questions to do that.

ELSIE: Oh, err okay. You’ll have to speak up. I’m 82, you know!

ME: [Raising voice slightly] Wow! Well you don’t sound a day over 81, Elsie!

Pause while I open up the account which loads with the incoming call. I’m guessing they have to put some details in when they place the call.

ME: Thanks for waiting Elsie. Now, can you tell me what the password was that you put on the account please? Then we can get that new card ordered for you.

ELSIE: Oh a password? I don’t think I put a password in… I put the numbers in but I think I put them in wrong. I think it was ‘1923’ but I put in ‘1932’!

ME: Oh. Err. No, don’t tell me your PIN Elsie. This password is a word. Can you remember it?

ELSIE: I’m pretty sure I never did that dear.

I’m staring at screen which reads: ‘PASSWORD: LASSIE’

ME: Did you… hmmm… have you ever had a pet Elsie?

ELSIE: Oh Lassie! Yes she was a lovely black lab!

ME: Ah that’s great Elsie! We can order you a new card now.

I’m now aware that a very talented Mr. Ripley might have been impersonating Elsie and taking advantage of my desire to help in order to wheedle a password prompt out of me and if that’s what happened then I am so sorry that you had your identity stolen, Elsie! Anyway it was enough for Rob to take me to task every time. Along with the above average amount of toilet breaks (which they timed!) and the day that I took off sick because I just couldn’t take getting on the bus to Hazel Grove every day and I wanted to see Manchester, this place I’d moved to. Unfortunately I chose the same day that Rob had off and was in Manchester city centre doing I-don’t-know-what. Maybe he was buying some new white shirts and black trousers?

—-

Anyway, there ended my job with the Post Office Card Account (maybe to the relief of security minded 90 year olds everywhere) and with it, my steady paycheck and my first stint in Manchester. Let’s call that the Prequel. I suppose they really are never as satisfying or successful as people think they’re going to be.

I moved back to Preston and as luck would have, The Mad Ferret was going from strength to strength. I’ve written at length about this place in my blogs for the songs ‘A Year After The Party Died’ and ‘When I’m Drunk’, so I won’t talk too much more about it here. You can read those to catch up.

WRITING IN 2014

The second time I moved to Manchester in 2013 is the time it ‘stuck’. But I still had about 6 months of commuting from Preston and the only work I had with the Ferret before my first job within Manchester’s music scene appeared courtesy of Tom Blackwell’s asking me to host an acoustic night at Mary & Archie’s on Burton Road in West Didsbury.

Mary & Archie’s sadly closed its doors in 2024 due the rising costs of running a music venue that is driving all of our meeting places and homes out of business. It was run by a sister and brother (Ellie and Tom), who named the place after their grandparents, I believe. 

The first night I put on was for acts that Tom had already booked… Tim Loud and Tim Holehouse. I mentioned it in the ‘When I’m Drunk’ blog but what I didn’t go into in detail were the events that took place that evening as they formed the inspiration for this song ‘Shh!’.

“Ah! Finally!” (I hear you cry) “the reason we’re here Richard! Not for the meandering trivialities of your employment history but for the Behind The Scenes look at songwriting.” Apologies for taking my time getting here. It’s all about the journey, they say.

In my opinion, a successful evening of acoustic music is all about setting a mood. Creating a place where artists can come and perform in such a way that they can create magic and move the audience. This means instilling a level of quiet and respect in the room. The background music between the acts must be at a suitable volume and of a suitable type. Lighting is important too. If it’s too bright the audience feels self conscious and won’t respond in a way that helps heighten the experience for everyone concerned. If it’s too dark the musicians may not see what they need to be able to see and the audience may lose the focal point of the artist playing. Candles usually help a lot. Loud environmental sounds such as coffee machines hissing and whirring like Big Bertha during the performances should be forbidden. There’s an article by the promoters who set up the Sofar Sounds nights that is worth reading if you’re interested in setting up your own acoustic evening.

Anyway the stage is set, the room is right, the audience are ready to receive and the artists are ready to transmit. Enter the stars of our evening… it’s not who you think it is.

In the packed room people sit, between 2 and 4 to a table, as one of the Tim’s is tuning up and preparing to begin his set. I lower the house music and the low audience hubbub dies away to make room for the music about to begin. Tim starts his first song. Things are as they should be; words and music combine… transmitted from the artist to the audience for them to distill into their own experiences and feelings. The song ends, the audience applauds politely. Tim #1 is witty and genial and begins his second song but as we enter the first chorus…

There is a table I can see over my right shoulder. Sat at this table are a couple. A man and a woman. He is in an Adidas tracksuit of ‘St. Patrick’s Day-green’ and she has blonde hair tied up high. And they are chunnering. 

‘Chunnering’ is a wonderful word I picked up in Preston. I take it to mean muttering and grumbling incessantly under one’s breath but it’s audible. Probably at the level of a stage whisper. It may come from the word ‘chuntering’, I’m unsure. What I’m sure of is that our couple, who I have nicknamed as ‘Mary’ and ‘Archie’** in our tale of the night, are having a disagreement. And I’m not the only one who has noticed. Other audience members are starting to notice them. Even Tim #1, from the stage, is flitting his eyeline between our Mary and Archie and his guitar.

It’s creating a different mood in the room for sure but it’s not too bad yet. The audience are mildly annoyed at most with Archie and Mary but haven’t uttered any titular “shush-es” in their direction. It’s just a regular occupational hazard of the acoustic evening.

Then during the third song, a loud sloshing clunk comes from Mary’s direction. I look around to see her large wine glass has spilled. Archie is looking furiously ruddy faced but not necessarily at the spill I think. Mary laughs and picks up the wine glass and knocks it down a couple more times. Miraculously it doesn’t smash but Archie gets up and storms out of the front door to the house left of the stage. Tim #1 has stopped his song momentarily and even has the presence of mind to utter a bon mot about how “everyone’s a critic” or something like that. It punctures the atmosphere of the room and gives us a chance to return to the status quo. Tim #1 continues playing.

Archie, however, has decided his exit wasn’t dramatic enough. As Tim #1 is rounding the corner on his fourth song, Archie comes storming BACK in and loudly pulls out his chair before plonking himself down in it and looking thunderously into the middle distance. He seems oblivious to the room around him and, as Mary reaches out a playfully conciliatory arm, he smacks it away, gets up again (remembering to slam his chair) and storms back OUT of the door.

Mary is smiling to herself and playing with the wine glass. She’s playing a game of make believe where she tips over the glass and keeps pretending to knock it down again. She laughs to herself and not quietly. Archie re-enters once more and sits back down with her in an almost comically angry way that it’s hard to take seriously.

By this time, Tim #1 has finished his set to the appreciation of the room but honestly, it’s hard for him to maintain the attention of the audience. Tim #2 begins tuning his instruments but something is happening to the feeling of the room.

It’s time to discuss the word ‘Farce’. In the words of Thornton Wilder:

“…farce (which) depends on extreme improbability and on the laughter aroused by the spectacle of someone's mental and physical anguish.”

This audience came to listen to, and to watch someone perform, music. But that is no longer their primary focus. The petulant and melodramatic nature of Mary and Archie’s tiff has stolen the thunder of the evening. The audience has moved away from their previous irritation at the interlopers. They are moving into a different frame of mind where they are actively seeking to witness more of the couple’s shenanigans.

Tim #2 starts his set and is interrupted almost immediately by a loud smash as her once invincible wine glass finally waves a little white flag against the abuse and breaks on the floor. Archie stands, once again, and frogmarches for the door. This time Mary strides after him. Both still seemingly unaware of the attention that they are holding in the room. Now’s probably a good time to fill out the geography of the venue.

As mentioned, the front door is to the house left of the stage (that’s the stage as the audience faces it) but the most important detail here is that the wall behind Tim #2 is not a wall at all but a large, almost floor to ceiling plate glass window that you can clearly see into the street through.

It’s through this window that the audience can see behind Tim #2, the true stars of the evening engage in angry mimo-ing and remonstrations. It is so much like a performance that it is truly hard to believe that they still have no idea that they have an entire audience’s rapt attention. Yet this seems to honestly be the case. And the pantomime continues throughout Tim #2’s set. The couple fall into an undulating rhythm of storming back into the room, slamming their chairs out, stage whispering angrily at each other before one of them stands up to stamp out of the room to their own makeshift proscenium arch in the large double windows under the street lamps of Burton Road. And rinse. And repeat.

The audience is in open revolt by this point. They are openly laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Poor Tim #2 can only watch bemusedly and strum half heartedly before turning in his seat. His stage is no longer the focus. He has become an audience member to the real stars of the show… Mary & Archie.

It may be cruel of the audience. Maybe these two had some serious issues but it seemed to be no more than an overblown drunken tiff between two lovers. The nature of their argument playing out in, before taking over, a performance space, turned them into the evening’s focus. It had become a farce. And an audience behaves differently under these circumstances. There’s something about the mentality switch once an audience member concedes that this is what they are here to see. They become hungry for more. They revel in each small mistake or gratuitous occurrence. This becomes the story.

The evening ends in with Tim #2 asking for a special round of applause for our performers. The audience gives a rapturous cheer, appreciative of the entertainment but our heroes are nowhere to be seen. Only two empty chairs and a broken wine glass in their performance space.

MEANWHILE IN 2023

This song didn’t change as much as many of the others from its 2014 version. I needed to tell quite a detail oriented story after all. I think the chord progression was maybe a bit longer and Lobelia helped me simplify it in order to cut some of the run time and edit sections of the song that weren’t adding anything.

These minor edits gave us some space to include an instrumental passage and Lobelia furnished it with a wonderful guitar part which I reversed and brought back at the end of the song, Beatles-style. There’s definitely a McCartney-esque flavour to this pocket sized, observational quartet. I also had one of my favourite Lee Hazlewood songs in mind, ‘Some Velvet Morning’, which also has two sections which move between a 4/4 time signature and a waltz.

It was a lot of fun switching back and forth more rapidly towards the end of the song, though I’m not sure if Hazel Watson (viola) and Lucy McLuckie (cello) would thank me for it.

I learned a lot from recording the strings on this album. This was the last song that I tracked the string separately on and I think that made it difficult for the players. They’re incredible players but classical musicians benefit from playing off each other. Most of the other songs on Calendar - Chapter II involved Lucy and Hazel recording live in the room together and I think the recordings are all the better for it.

LYRICAL WAX

Consulting my 2014 notes, I can see I’ve cut about three verses of lyrics as well…

From directly after the first Chorus:

The room starts to stare

Their attention diverted from the song by her rattling her chair

Their whispers are steadily raising, growing more and more crazy

Her Prosecco spills over

As their argument spills over she swears

And the entirety of the last two verses:

We see them remonstrate

Through the glass their bickering looks almost like a ballet

So carefully choreographed with an awkward grace

Though their make up is muted

They've stolen the audience's gaze

The argument (two-step) completes

The couple reenter the room and they take to their seats

But the singer knows better, that the nature of lovers

Means any moment the tempers will flare

And the dance will repeat

I’ve instead moved the remaining Verse after the first Chorus into the last Verse position. Some of these lyrical details are fun but in the end I felt they didn’t add enough to justify the already lengthy runtime of the song. I’d already told the story I wanted to tell so, bup! Cut!

So judicious of me.

SHH! - Album Version

SIGN OFF

I’ve mentioned that I’m currently living in the Netherlands. Before I moved I was writing these blogs on a weekly basis but that momentum has gradually run down as I’ve been here. Honestly, things aren’t going as well as hoped. It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell it in another blog but apologies for the slowing pace in the release of these blogs. Hopefully I’ll get back into them in 2026 (just around the corner!) especially with the impending public release of Calendar - Phase III.

Calendar III has been released track-by-track to my paid Patreon and Bandcamp subscribers this year so they’ve had extra time to enjoy it. It’s a business model I’m experimenting with but it seems to have gone well so it should continue like this for now.

FURTHER LISTENING

Not as many tracks as usual here. I knew I was writing an observational song. There will always be a bit of McCartney on my mind when I’m doing that. And I knew I wanted a string quartet feel to it so the main influences are pretty obvious. I started trying to find other story songs that were carried by string quartets but it felt a bit like the tail wagging the dog so, if you think of any, feel free to recommend them in the comments…

‘Some Velvet Morning’ by Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra

‘Eleanor Rigby’ by The Beatles

‘Smithers-Jones’ by The Jam

FOOTNOTE CORNER

*I’ve placed this asterisk here to remind me to tell you that everything before this was written in April of 2025. I’m currently living in the Netherlands and life has conspired to get in the way of my writing to the extent that it is now August 2025 when I am picking up the blog again and finishing this article.

**I didn’t know until well after the fact that the venue was named after the owner’s grandparents. Ellie seemed tickled that I had named this song as such.