Today is the one day I don’t even really want you as the intended recipient to read it, but I left it anyway because it led to one of those moments that messed with me in the way the world likes to. In return I normally like to give a little nod to it, but I don’t think that happened this time. I got so far as to look online for your email address, but the first search result for your name was a news story saying that Geneviève had died that day. This is the letter I wrote the previous day, in a haze of prescribed opiates and extended solitude.
I’ll get to the point first and then elaborate if you’re willing to find out where I’m going with this. Could I please have the master recording of Voice in Headphones (the Lost Wisdom version) to use for a project I’m considering?
I intend is to get as many different people as possible, from different backgrounds and demographics, to record vocal tracks for the song, ideally a separate take for each part. The final product would be released as an interactive song which will allow the listener to select which vocalist or vocalists they would like to hear singing over the instrumental, by muting and unmuting the individual tracks, similar to this. Interesting duets or “collaborations” could be saved and shared. Ideally I could also get a single vocal track from you, and I’d like to get Björk to do one too, but using your version.
I don’t always follow through on ideas like this, so even if you do agree, it’s likely nothing may come of it. It does sound like it would be a lot of fun to create and play around with, however.
I’m not sure how publishing rights work in this (or any) context, so if there’s any issue there on your end, don’t worry about any of this. I am also fine with you either disregarding this email because you don’t want to deal with having to answer me, or responding with a cryptic haiku which will translate into a gentle yet resounding dismissal.
I’m sure I never had any real intention of sending the letter – mainly because it would have been a little strange for you to receive and it was just too far removed from a project that would ever get started, let alone completed – even if I didn’t get deterred by the fear of disturbing you in any way at such a time in your life. I had cancer last year and for a short while thought I would die from it, and it made perfect sense to me why that would be the case. You’ve probably had a lot of people tell your their cancer stories in the last couple of years and all you’d like to do is walk away but you don’t know how.
I listened to A Crow Looked at Me a lot when it first came out, which was right after my surgery. One night I had a dream that one of the songs was eerily similar to something I’d recorded. In the dreamworld I needed to get in contact with you to figure out what happened, first explaining the letter above that I hadn’t sent. It turned out the music was floating along the ether, and we each woke up separately to find it there.
[Author’s note: Today is also my conception day, nine months before my birthday, and for some reason this has been resonating with me more in recent years than my actual birthday.]