Thread

This blog almost has a plot. First a post about my accent, then a follow-up to relate it to the present, followed by a seemingly unrelated ramble about my vaguely forthcoming solo album but which now comes together with the previous two entries by virtue of this post, the one you are reading right now, even if this one does consist mainly of this first and rather pointless paragraph, along with what I intend to be a rather brief second and final paragraph.
This one. Oh yes, the point. You would think that someone who had recently written at reasonable length about how he disliked his accent would refrain from writing a track that consisted of two fairly lengthy verses of spoken word. You would think that, and you would be wrong. My excuse is that it sounded good in my head, but as my detention-happy schoolteachers would point out, my excuses are rarely worth considering. There I was last night, sat at this very computer with a ten-second drum-and-synth loop playing over and over in my headphones for perhaps an hour, typing lyrics into Notepad (old-skool), apparently imagining my voice had miraculously changed while I had been silent. Lyrics finished, I fired up the hi-fi and attempted a run-through, quietly but out loud. Ah - still painfully middle class. Didn't see that coming. Moron.