An open letter to those wishing to provide recorded work for Audacious
Dear eager and brave applicants,
My name is Armand (Mandy) and I’ve been doing this stuff for a while now. Both poetry and audio engineering. I haven’t been published as yet, nor have I won any awards for my writing, so I’m not here to tell you how to go about that side of the craft. I do however have a Diploma in Sound Production and have recorded, mixed and mastered a variety of audio work that encompasses podcasts, music, film & TV, and of course spoken word.
Some of you may have noticed that one of the most recent projects I was involved with happened to be the Melbourne Spoken Word audio compilation ‘Audacious – Issue 1’.
When it comes to us audio engineers, there is a common myth that we are magicians of sound and can make any piece sparkle. I wish I could say this was true, but even we and our (usually) trusty technology have our limitations. A number of you wishing to provide your work to MSW may be a little fresh to the process of recording. Firstly, it’s wonderful and exciting to see how many people out there want to give it a go. I say go for it, learn, embrace, conquer! However, do bear in mind, with the ease of access to in-built microphones on computers and devices, bargain bin recording home studios and free downloadable studio software – there comes the trade off of poor sound quality. Don’t let that turn you off, if you are on a stringent budget. There are a few diamonds in the rough to be found. I’ll get on to where to find them later.
Over the near 8 years that I’ve been involved in this, I have been provided a wealth of material. Some glorious snippets, some bat shit crazy stuff with talking dolls, deep creepy breathing and distorted glockenspiels played with drum sticks wrapped in condoms. And then there are those really taxing tracks containing all manner of: squelch, hiss, microphone feedback, jarring r
Review by Armand Petit
Scott Wings’ one person (yes person, not man) show ‘Icarus Falling’ is a magnificently crafted, abstract exploration of both the ancient Grecian myth and the field of mental illness. Right from the beginning it was made clear that this was going to be a generous performance as Scott quite literally launched himself into the story. With a pretty demanding pose as well. The stage was virtually naked and the props, which consisted of a hip flask and chair, were rarely used. And despite the minimalism of the set or its contributing tools – the visual sparsity was all compensated for by the physicality and willingness of the performer embracing his characters and painting his world into existence. Icarus, Daedalus, the tower, the labyrinth, the sky, the ocean – it was all there. All easily imaginable through Scott’s description, his fantastic exploration of space and unabashed use of his body and voice.
There is a certain liberating whimsy that a viewer gets to experience when seeing Scott spin a yarn. It is not all highly polished, perfected elocution and traditional stage methods. It’s more like watching a kid at play, building a universe in their bedroom with such conviction that it’s really hard to not just buy into it. Their enthusiasm is infectious and you follow without question. However, with the added touch of seriousness this performance involves, Scott has managed to strike a pretty solid equilibrium between that fancy-free playfulness and the often self-destructive introspection of those who’ve outgrown LEGO and Play-Doh.
Side Note: For those of you over 20 that still play with LEGO and Play-Doh! You rock my world, but I’m sure you get my point.
Those who haven’t seen him on stage before may find the switches between character and narration a little jarring at times. There are also some relatively confronting lines and themes some may find offensive. Be it because they were insens