Author: David Bradley

Birding on the Fen Edge

UPDATE: Sunny Sunday, so went to take some brighter photos, thankfully he was still there and calling loudly.

Over the last few weeks, the flooded fields around our village of Cottenham have brought in quite a few interesting birds we’d not commonly see here, although some are more frequent visitors than others.

We’ve had hundreds of Whooper Swans and a couple of Bewick’s Swans (for the first time in recent years), Red Shank, Oystercatcher*, Little Ringed Plover, Grey Plover, Golden Plover*, Green Plover* (Lapwing/Peewit), Shoveller Duck, Shelduck, Wigeon, Green Sandpiper*, Kumlein’s Gull, Avocet, Dunlin, Black-tailed Godwit, Snipe, Grey Wagtail*, Yellow Wagtail, White Wagtail, Pied Wagtail*, and various others. *Seen more than the others listed. Hen Harrier, Peregrine falcon, and Marsh Harrier have also been spotted, as has (away from our patch) White-tailed Eagle.

Today, well away from the flooded fields, a Nuthatch turned up at All Saints Church and was singly loudly variously from the yew tree at the main entrance, the trees at the vicarage, and the tall, budding oak behind the church.

As far as I am aware, this is the first sighting of a nuthatch in Cottenham for many, many years. Unless you know different, of course.

Thanks to Simon G, Brendan D, and Ian E who are the proper birders who first ticked and counted the various birds listed above.

Song frequency sits mainly between about 2.8 and 4 kHz, another bird calling at 7kHz towards the end of the video. A high-pass filter applied at about 1.3 kHz to mute wind and traffic noise.

Tideline – A song

Struggling with the positive vibes, to be honest, but if 2020 gave me my Lockdown LP, a bunch of songs written and recorded from February onwards about how awful stuff has been, then my After the Lockdown LP is to be the flipside of the angst and anxiety, hence this latest song added to the roster – Tideline (current version available for free on Bandcamp, one of six songs so far on this LP).

Think: ebb and flow of time and tides, circle of life, the full moon, the new moon, dusk and dawn. Events and happenstance, the mark left on the shore by the high tide swept away by a bigger storm surge, then relaid as the tide turns again, the waves being mindful of their place in the world, creatures imagining a world beyond the brine. The seaspray reaching way beyond the tideline.

TIDELINE

As daylight settles like a distant retreat
You pull on emotional chains
The shingle rolls under your aching feet

The hopes you had are dashed against those distant rocky shores
Stagger to see the pain The tide turns with barely a pause

If the water looks cold
It’s only a tale that’s told
The waves imagine a world beyond the brine

If your dreams aren’t so bold
It’s not because you’re old
The seaspray chases way above the tideline

Tideline
Breakers from the storm
Broken at the full moon at the time that you were born

Tideline
The memory of the norm
Reminder of a new moon before the dawn

As morning wakes, the darkness slips away
Failure all forgotten now the light is holding sway

A million more regrets on the tide washed away
The secrets we forget, there’s nothing more to say

Reminder of a new moon before the dawn

Latin mottos translated

A puerile joke I’ve been making since schooldays when our motto was carpe diem is that it actually means “seize the fish”. Of course, it actually means “fish of the day” (see Garden, G. ISAHUC) and in a similar educational vein, a few more:

In loco parentis – Mum and Dad are coming by train after lockdown

Audio hostem – It’s my house, I get to choose what records to put on

Quid pro quo – The Italian branch of Poundland, just behind the Colloseum Bingo hall

Caveat emptor – we’ve run out of Spanish bubbly again

Status Quo – the same thing over and over again and again deeper and down, down down…

Contra spem spero – What the Romans used for birth control

Cui bono – Everyone knows about him out of U2
Pro bono publico – Yes, he gets everywhere
Contra bonos mores – There can only be one Paul Hewson…surely?

Ratio legis – one lower limb longer than the other

Respice finem – Cooking with saffron is really expensive, but worth it

Sic vita est – I had far too much rye bread and cottage cheese

Ubi sunt – Taxi hasn’t turned up

Extra omnes – Really delicious

Veritas cum libertate – Got arrested when playing the piano in a diamond-encrusted furcoat

In camera – Where you used to put the film before everyone went digital
In dulci jubilo – That time the “Shaddap You Face” guy did a cover of a Mike Oldfield tune
Vade retro Satana – Classic Latin guitar rock song in the cafe scene from Star Wars

A posteriori – Just a bum who thinks they’re better than you

Annus terribilis – Fetch me some Preparation H
Annus mirabilis – It worked
Ante mortem – Dad’s sister is a goth

Post mortem – So is the mail guy

Vox populi – Talk to the trees

Sine loco – Old-fashioned rollercoaster that just goes up and down

Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus – My train finally arrived but I got to listen to the whole of Rush’s “Caress of Steel” on the journey

Pro forma – ordering sanitaryware online

Pro tanto – The Lone Ranger voted for his sidekick

Quantocius quantotius – I’d really like to take another trip to Australia soon

Deus ex machina – Facebook

A priori – Just a priory

Anno Domini – We only get take away pizza once a year

Pax Christi – Posted the last of the Yuletide pressies

Cacatum non est pictum – Use a bag when clearing up after your dog

Magister dixit – In court for sharing “rude” selfies

Alter ego – To stop being so self-centred

Corpus Christi – All town, no gown

Ubi amor, ibi dolor – Yellow cabs are great, but very expensive

Per se – Where Canadians put their loose change and lipstick

Dramatis personae – Always making a fuss about nothing

Pontifex Maximus – Really big darning needles

Ex cathedra – They demolished a big church?!?!

Ex officio – Used to go out with the co-worker in the next cubicle

Pacem in terris – Yorkies and Jack Russells can run quite fast
Pacem in terris – Yorkies and Jack Russells can all get into tight spaces

Laudetur Jesus Christus – I can barely hear the vicar

Cum laude – Shhh…you’ll wake the neighbours

Ab initio – I got DB tattooed on my belly

Ab intestato – Beer belly

Agnus Dei – 14th June, a celebration of grannies

Et Cetera – Peter’s jazz singing sister

Quod erat demonstrandum – I’ve shown you my thigh muscles, now show me yours

E pluribus unum – Family motto of her out of “Till death us do part” who also played Aunt Sally in “Worzel Gummidge” something about not worrying what time the tram arrives

Loads more from friends and contacts on a Facebook thread I started here.

Military advice to keep an eye open for the “absence of normal” inspired a new proggie song

UPDATE: 2021-03-23 Tightened some of the lyrics, tweaked the chord progression for the pre-choruses, and recorded the whole song again, from scratch. Third remix of the re-recorded song just completed and now streaming.

Soldiers on guard are trained to watch out for the absence of normal. If the normal is the bustling of the market, children playing, old folks chewing the fat on street corner benches…then when these things are missing, there may be trouble ahead…

This new song of mine was inspired by this phrase and is the latest track on my After the Lockdown EP. You can stream it via Soundcloud or stream and download from Bandcamp.

THE ABSENCE OF NORMAL

The lines are cut, not a single word can get through
The dust builds up, covering the world with a desert hue
If flag as rags are burned, don’t blame the former
Stay on the watch, be on your guard for the absence of normal

The streets are still, only a few old souls around
The guards are smoking. Nobody make a sound
If notes and coins are exchanged, it’s nothing formal
The headlights flash, the blast comes fast in the absence of normal

Don’t you see how it goes day after day?
Creature comforts on the breeze, all blown away
You kneel alone attend your prayers, no one to share
Waste no time telling trouble, you’re not the one to care

And yet the time is right, time to play another tune
Blow back the dust, rebuild the past, nothing can come too soon
Freedom on the wing, wonder so informal
Keep up the pace, find your grace in the absence of normal

Won’t you feel how it grows day by day?
Hear the suffering on the wind, all borne away
You stand alone telling us to pray, no one will dare
To check the time, call you out in trouble, like you’d care

Don’t you see how it goes day after day?
Creature comforts on the breeze, all blown away
You kneel alone attend your prayers, no one to share
Waste no time telling trouble, you’re not the one to care

And yet the time is right, time to play another tune

Words and music, instrumentation, vocals, and production dB/

Lead-coloured Drab – Moth

This is a Spring moth known as a Lead-coloured Drab, Orthosia populeti, fairly certain of the ID, I couldn’t check the degree of featheriness on the antennae to be certain, it may be a different type of Drab. Its markings are not particularly remarkable, but its hairy compound eyes can be something of a talking point.

The macro shot of the moth’s left eye was taken with my camera mounted on a tripod very close to the moth. I used manual focusing in “live view” mode (i.e. focusing with the camera’s rear screen. I set the shutter to “silent” mode on put it on a 10-second timer to minimise vibration.

The camera in question is a Canon 7D mkii digital SLR (2/3 cropped frame). It was fitted with a 1:1 90mm Tamron macro lens and a 44mm extension tube to allow focusing closer than the Tamron’s standard minimum focusing distance.

Shot was taken as a 2-second exposure, with an aperture of f/7.1, and ISO 200. No flash, just ambient light and a line of LEDs about 2 inches above the moth.

Vernon’s Equinox – A short story

Vernon’s Equinox by David Bradley

Nominitive determinism had failed Vernon Carpenter. He was an office clerk. No one could say precisely what it was this 63-year old office clerk did day to day, so it was odd that the memo arrived offering redundancy with immediate effect.

If nominative determinism had passed him by so had the boom of the baby boom generation of which he was purportedly a member. But, such is life, hyperbole is rarely tangential with the mundane and the everyday. If he’d been a poetry reader, Vernon would have known only too well of the life of J Alfred Prufrock. He would in his seventh decade have also known that he should be raging, raging, I tell you, raging against the dying of the light.

There was a flicker, an ember, not a dying ember, a slow burn that might rekindle a fire that had yet to be lit. Vernon, the papers might have told you, if it had turned out he was a serial killer, was a quiet, unassuming man, who, according to neighbours “kept himself to himself”, a classic cliché of journalese. He did. Vernon did keep himself to himself for what he lacked in carpentry skills he made up for in an altogether different area of skill. Vernon looked to the stars. Every clear night. He had a half-decent telescope locked securely away in his garden shed. A shed that had a nice big skylight, that could be pushed open and out of the way with the broom exposing the universe to his all-seeing eye and his telescope to any thief who figured the door was locked but the roof not.

Vernon hoped that his nocturnal commissions would one day bring him fame and fortune. He was forever on the lookout for a supernova, an exploding star in the depths of space that no one else had spotted at the time and place he happened to be pointing his reflector. That said, he wasn’t particularly bothered by the two effs, he had enough to fulfil his simple dietary requirements and when it came to it, he’d rather not be famous. Nobody wants to be recognised in the supermarket aisle stockpiling tins of spaghetti hoops and baked beans, after all.

It was late March when the memo arrived. Mars had been very close to the moon in the night sky, although that kind of coincidence did not interest Vernon. It was new points of light in the sky he was after. He had a feeling that his time at Maitliss and Warner probably wouldn’t last much longer and had been musing on how to fill his days when his nights were so clearly taken.

He couldn’t bear the idea of joining a club, all those people with their weird hobbies and their weird smells. No. He’d find something solitary to do with his newly released nine-to-fives. Gardening? Definitely not! He couldn’t risk all that mud and muck near his telescope. Birdwatching? Again, a real no-no…he really couldn’t picture himself wasting his time staring at elusive and distant objects through a pair of binoculars. The irony was not lost on Vernon. He had snorted at the thought as it flitted through his mind. Maybe he could undertake a DIY project, make that skylight more secure, perhaps add a motor to raise and lower it rather than poking it with a broom…maybe not.

It was still light by the time Vernon was at his doorstep and turning the key in the lock for what may well have been something like the 16425th time in his adult life. The nights were drawing out, which to Vernon meant only one thing: longer to wait before telescope time, and things would only get worse with the imminent switch to British Summer Time. There was a waxing gibbous moon set to rise this evening, better than a full moon for stargazing. The sky was clear and the forecast fair. Orion would still be wearing his sword for a few weeks more. It was also one of only two nights in the year when the period either side of sunrise and sunset is equal. The Equinox.

Vernon’s pan was on. Baked beans this evening. No toast. He’d set the gas a little high and the glutinous orange mass was bubbling and beginning to catch. He extinguished the flame with a twist of the knob and scooped the beans and their so-called tomato sauce on to a China plate, grabbed a fork from the draining board and set off for the shed. The key was on a ring on a chain with all his others secreted in the left pocket of his office trousers. He set the beans down on the upturned crate by the shed door, quickly unlocked, grabbed the plate set it down again on the workbench to be forgotten until the wee, small hours, and cleanly removed the protective dust sheet from his telescope. Pushed open the skylight with the broom.

Was it an expensive telescope? Well, it had absorbed the best part of Vernon’s inheritance, but no matter. It was a relatively simple affair with minimal controls but a maximal tripod and the biggest, most perfectly polished mirror. The best his money could buy, Vernon would reflect. His notebooks were piled high on the workbench, dust had gathered for months on the uppermost, the solitary ballpoint pen with which they were so closely acquainted having run unbearably dry months ago. Vernon had no need of notebooks, of logging dates and times of sketching planetary trajectories. He had sufficient memory to keep tabs on what he saw each clear night. Anyway, there would be no notebook worthy of the discovery he hoped to make one of these nights.

Vernon set the telescope just east of Lyra and glued himself to the eyepiece, focusing along the way micron by micron to span lightyears of distant, ancient space.

It is the Equinox. What a night for a major find. Unwanted but not unwarranted fame and fortune might await the amateur astronomer who catches a glimpse of the first particles of light to reach planet Earth from the burst of energy ejected by a dying star. Photons that would shed light on our understanding of the life and death of a distant star.

The beans cooled and congealed on their China plate. Vernon stared and scanned, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, the chilled air pouring down on him through the skylight. Clouds were gathering slowly from the northwest. They covered the moon. The veiled Orion’s shoulders as the hunter ducked below the horizon to carry on with his stalking of the night on the dark side of the world. A blackbird shocked to wake for another day began its chorus.

The equinox was over. Vernon disengaged himself from his dreams, scooped a few dollops of the cold baked beans into his mouth, swallowing them with barely a nudge from his teeth, and pulled the skylight shut once more with the broom. He might catch forty winks before work. Work…

Songs about stuff

I seem to have written quite a few songs during the last decade or so…many of them emerged from Arts Night discussions others written on a whim, some of them put together for my band C5, and others for a variety of other reasons.

I’ve summarised the essence of the lyrics of a clutch of them in a single word. The musical style may well not be that suggested by the word…who knows? Have a listen and do report back with any thoughts.

Violence – Helium Heart
Homelessness – Bridges Crossed and Burned
Drugs – White Line Warrior
Hope – A New Memory of Music
Compromise – Meet Me Half Way
Mourning – Place the Pennies
Fishermen – The Stormy Petrels
Fishwives – The Spate Gatherers
Chicago – A Northern Boy
Greece – The Oleander Fires
Refugees – Bridge of Sighs
Guncrime – Shooting Waste
Dancing – When the Beat Hits Your Heart
Humanity – For the Love of People
Beach -  The Long Sands
Christmas – Seasons of Love
Fascism – The Last Witchhunt
Heroism – Grace
Betrayal – Turncoats
Acceptance – The Sea Refuses No River
Gambling – Who is Fooling Who?
Espionage – Lost to the Weather
Trouble – In Deep Water
Stubbornness – The Tide that Never Turns
Devil – The Oldest Trick in the Book
Transitions – Mercury in Transit
Illness – Too Old to Die Young
Bowie – The Day that Bowie Died
Regret – Nothing to Be Sorry For
Fraud – Switch and Bait
Overindulgence – Burning the Candle at Both Ends
Hubris – The Mighty Fall
Cybersex – Push the Button
Sex – Wild Honeysuckle
War – Collateral Damage
Pleasure – Dopamine and Desire
Revolution – The Silent Spring
Homesickness – Sail Me Back
Eternity – Golden Light
Dictatorships – Put Them on Hold
Money – Gold and Silver
Relationships – Dawn Chorus
Perspective – Point of View
Patriotism – Foreign Shores
Loss – It Could’ve Been You
Radio – Radio Love
Abandonment – Escape to the Stars
Retribution – Dead Man Walking
Escape – A Flight of Fancy
Positivity – Sunny Days and Rainbows
Indifference – When Your Love’s Offline
Depression – Polarity
Security – Security High
Addiction – Winter Warmer
Disappointment – You Don’t Get What You Pray For
Funk – Funktastic!
Alcoholism – A Word to the Wise
Environmentalism – Pale Blue Dot
Ambition – Dreamcatcher
Faith – Faith in Humanity

Violence, Homelessness, Drugs, Hope, Compromise , Mourning, Fishermen, Fishwives, Chicago, Greece, Refugees , Guncrime , Dancing, Humanity, Beach, Christmas, Fascism, Heroism, Betrayal, Acceptance, Gambling, Espionage, Trouble, Stubbornness, Devil, Transitions, Illness, Bowie, Regret, Fraud, Overindulgence, Hubris, Cybersex, Sex, War, Pleasure, Revolution, Homesickness, Eternity, Dictatorships, Money, Addiction, Relationships, Perspective, Patriotism, Loss, Radio, Abandonment, Retribution, Escape, Positivity, Indifference, Depression, Security, Disappointment, Funk, Alcoholism, Trying, Environmentalism, Ambition, Faith…

Calories in, calories out

I’m halfway through Tim Spector’s excellent book Spoon Fed, which is a bit like a food and nutrition version of my 2012 book Deceived Wisdom in which he debunks pretty much all of the myths we’ve been told over the years about cholesterol, fat, caffeine, gluten, reduced-fat foods, diet drinks etc.

Spector points out that we are all different, our genes play a major part in our response to food and that most of the claims about this or that food or drink are mainly driven by the marketing departments of the food and drink manufacturers who spend millions on advertising and lobbying policymakers to put messages out there that fundamentally conflict with good advice to sell more of their products.

One of the big myths Spector debunks is with regard to exercise and weight loss. The bottom line, as it were, is that we should exercise for general physical and mental health, but exercising does very little to help you lose weight. In fact, exercising may see you gain weight as you add muscle mass but more likely because it makes you hungry and you end up eating more than you need to after exercising (often in the form of “health” smoothies, protein bars, energy boosters and the like). Your body also slows your metabolic rate after exercise in the short term so that you end up storing more of your food intake as fat.

On what basis does he make this claim? Well, in one sense basic thermodynamics, but he puts it more simply in terms of the way the body uses energy.

We get all of our energy, 100% from food.

We “burn” 70% of that energy just saying alive, metabolic resting rate.

10% of our energy is used to digest the food we eat.

20% is used for physical activity. However, 10% of that is used just sitting, standing, or fidgeting.

The last 10% of the energy we burn can be manipulated through exercise. That’s a tenth of the energy we take in being available to us to burn through exercise.

If you’re an average overweight bloke running an hour a day four times a week, then at best you can knock off 2 kilograms a month. That sounds great, I could get to my ideal weight within a year doing that. But, in order to make this work, you have to NOT overcompensate for the fatigue by eating or drinking more and you have to avoid the extra storage, the slowing of metabolism and the bounceback if you lapse on your calorie counting (You have to be strict with yourself and not eat more even if you feel tired and hungry). It’s mostly sugary-rich food and obesity in a bottle smoothies that are the problem…and alcoholic beverages.

Exercise is a potent drug we all need to take in moderation regularly. Moderate exercise is not a weightloss drug. The only way to lose weight is to eat less and to choose foods better matched to your own metabolism and gut microbes, Spector writes. (There are exceptions to the rules, in the same way that everyone knows a chainsmoking whiskey drinker who died in bed with their mistress aged 97.

As to all that nonsense about 10000 steps? Well, that spurious health notion was invented by a Japanese company that made and sold pedometers in the 1960s…based on nothing more scientific than that 10000 is a nice round number and although it is quite large it is not unachievable in a normal day for a lot of people. But, recent studies have shown that people using pedometers and smart health watches and the like actually gain more weight over the course of a year than those who don’t use these gadgets.

If you’re overweight it would seem that you can’t win…unless you eat less…you can win, if you eat less. It’s not the calories out that count, it’s really just the calories in.

Be the Man

In January 2020, just as there were concerns being raised about an emerging viral pandemic that would ultimately shred so many lives, we, The Tyrannochorus choir, were rehearsing hard for a couple of big concerts we had been planning for months. They were the “Love Concerts”. Songs about love and faith in humanity. Ultimately, we raised several thousand pounds for a couple of major charities with the pair of events.

Anyway, I was in my usual bass/baritone sometimes tenor slot for most of the songs we would sing but was accompanying on guitar on one tune and singing the lead solo on The Young ‘uns song Be the Man. I knew it pretty much off-by-heart, had all my inflections and emotions bedded down into it so I could sing it as best I could without choking up.

It’s a song of a young man who takes his own life following rejection by his family and leaving behind his widower to somehow come to turns with that death and the aftermath, and to somehow find a way to reconcile the family’s bigotry with the love he felt.

When it came to the first concert, I was mic’ed up, guitar was on, my two harmony fellows were alongside, we’d had plenty of chance to practice, it went well. I was tasked with coordinating and wiring up the PA for the second concert as well endeavouring to prep for the second run of Be the Man with a planned substitute harmony wingman.

I started the song solo, just me and guitar. We had no elevated staging and the front-row seats in the venue were very close. I  could definitely see the whites of their eyes and they mine…I felt quite exposed. It’s a raw song. Started well, usual audience response at this point in a song, expectant, listening, attentive, not sure where the song is going, probably not recognising it…best not to overthink things while you perform. Focus on the notes and chords…

“Matthew Ogston is my name and you’ll not hear me mourn…I will never live in shame, I will not walk alone.

For though my love took his own life because of bigotry I’ll be the man, be the man”

Oh…raised eyebrow from the stoic old gent in the front row as he clocked that line. A man singing “my love took his own life”. Now, was it that reference that raised that eyebrow or the reference to suicide? I’ve no idea…I kept going.

“…because of bigotry I’ll be the man, be the man, be the man I was born to be I was born to be.”

No more raised eyebrow, but stoic man seemed to have switched off. Second verse, first harmony and piano enter.

“And my love, he was warm and kind, and my love, he was strong
And when his brown eyes first met mine, I knew he was the one”

Sturdy-looking woman three rows back scowls, was I bit pitchy there, did the guitar clash a little against the piano, was I a bit out of kilter with the choir…who are supposed to be following me…but have to take their beat from Siobhan our choir leader? Or, was it the words, those words? I don’t know. Did she know I was telling a story in the song, maybe she thought it was my song…

The show must go on. The song builds, classic modern folk, but with a rapturous choir belting it out and me throwing in a bit of the old northern twang to match the style of the original (the band hail from a town not 40 miles from where I grew up). I put my all into this second performance of the song, generous members of the choir told me it wasn’t too bad at all.

Stoic Man and Sturdy Woman seemed to be bouncing along with it on the choruses, maybe I’d misjudged their eyebrows and scowls, they weren’t confused nor bemused by the lyrics, they just didn’t know the song, but recognised they could tap their feet once we got to the rousing refrains.

I felt happier as we progressed through the bars. Singing and strumming with confidence, harmony wingmen belting it out as a trio with me. I even managed a controlled emotional crack in my voice as I sang the final line to the last strains of my fading guitar chord, there were some who thought maybe I was about to cry, but like I say I’d bedded down that emotion…mainly through endless solo rehearsals out on the fens walking the dog. I glanced across to Siobhan just to check I was still somehow leading behind her and it was all going to be okay…

“Be the man, be the man I was born to be, I..was…born……to be”

Long pause. Much applause…gratefully received.

We later learned from a choir member who spoke to an audience member from that second concert some weeks later, but before lockdown 1, that they’d thought the whole show was wonderful. Apparently, they added how lucky the choir is to be able to recruit professional singers for the solo parts…now…I think I did okay, but I just know they weren’t talking about me, they were talking about Patrick’s sublime rendition of Neil Diamond’s Walk on Water and the fabulous performance of our female soloist.

Rachel did a stupendous version of the Joni Mitchell song A case of you which had raised my eyebrows in a good way when we did the soundcheck and I was tweaking mic placement and EQ. There were no sturdy scowls or bemused eyebrows raised among the audience though when she sang that song…I know, I was there, and I could see the whites of their eyes.

 

 

Musical Rushalikes

Twelve of my original songs stretching back through the last decade and all taking more than a little pinch of inspiration from my favourite band, Rush, the band that inspired me to take up guitar in my early teens back in the late 70s. There’s a more detailed description of each song on the Soundcloud page as well as full credits. Some of them are flagrantly Rush pastiches, others simply inspired by the band as well as others, such as Genesis, Pink Floyd, Yes, Led Zeppelin, Simple Minds, U2, The Police etc. More importantly, there’s a link to the BandCamp page for each track so you can download them to keep and treasure for all time…

All words and music, arrangements, electric and acoustic guitars, bass guitar, 12-string guitar, vocals, percussion, loop mixing, recording, and production by yours truly except where stated otherwise on a per track basis. Artwork adapted from an original photo of a brain coral on a beach taken by Tirthankar Gupta entitled “Brain Waves” and used here under a CC license.