Don't get me wrong, I adore turf. It's a lovely blackish-brown oily color, beautiful wiry fiber texture, smells nice, characteristic of the country I love, makes me think of great sessions, music and friends. Turf…love it…when it's dry…and most importantly…on the FIRE and NOT wet, soggy and under my BUM!
Cor…blimey, the things we do for the fans…(sigh) Remember when I told you about our wet and dreary attempts at filming for the video clip? Well I didn't tell you this bit…
We had finally found a beautiful veeeeeery Irishy location to film. And there we were, in Connemara. Stuck in the car, again…because it was raining…again… Evertjan wearily staring out the rain speckled windscreen and me all stars in my eyes, dreaming of world wide Fling You Tube success…Just a few moments more…a little spot of blue was slowly edging it's way towards the hills we wanted in the shot. Ready…set…wait for it…go! The sun was coming out and we ran for it. There was a very photogenic rock with a lovely mountain in the background and a proper stream no less. I'd already claimed that particular rock as my seat, muahahah!! I was going to be filmed sitting on it, come rain or shine…and, and, and…and then I forgot about the turf…
You see, turf is a mass of little crushed plants and animals pressed together for years and years until it turns into the lovely highly burnable stuff it is today. Unfortunately for me the turf on the rock I picked as my 'throne' was born yesterday. That meant that it had the texture and absorbance power of a household sponge…So while I was enjoying the romantic location and the 'shine' on my face, the 'rain' contained in the aqueous growth on the rock, was having a jolly old time soaking my fancy 'gig' trousers in no time at all…
I've seen footage of the video-to-be and the reason I apparently look genuinely saddened by the lyrics is partly because, apart from my bum now being soaked, the wind was making sure I was also getting cold…and then I realized my boots were turning amphibian as well…
I stubbornly (and increasingly wetly…) sat through the whole thing though and found out that a two minute film takes hours to record and put together. Patient professional that he is, Evertjan instructed me on where to sit, stand, walk, when to sing, shut up and "stop moving your eyebrows!!"
My face seems to have the incredible urge to move upward, the moment I enunciate the 'ee' sound. Also, it is incredibly difficult to sing along with yourself without laughing, keeping your face in check at the same time and trying not to mess up:
"I thought I was singing, oh, that was the other me was it? Sorry, I'll try to sing along with me a bit better…"
"What was that? (gale roaring in my ears) Hang on, I'll come over…what?" "Don't…what?" "Move…ah right…sorry" (plods back)
"I was NOT moving my eyebrows!" (looks at camera screen) "Oh…right…"
"What !? I don't look like that normally!" "Am I really that fat, I thought the camera adds 10 pounds…"
You get the idea. When you look at the film I can honestly say that it is only by the grace of the Irish Saints and Evertjan's expertise and patience that we managed to get anything decent on film. It actually looks fairly relaxed, even though my hair was being blown down my windpipe and Evertjan only managed to stay upright in the gale by digging his beige suede shoes deeply into the turf, the soggy traits whereof I explained earlier.
Looking at the little film, now that it has had some work done to it on a computer, truly looks like a real video clip, worthy of world-viewing. I hope you like it…no, sod that! You better…and now you know why.
