We first heard of the studio from a friend in the Tappit. Tales of walking up on a summer night, cairry oot in Tesco bags, before jamming all evening, laughter between songs. Sounded like travellers around a campfire, songs and stories. The Summer Walkers.
So I booked the studio and took Amy up in January, out in the wilds. It was pitch black getting out the car. Amy didn’t have a scooby. A figure appeared out the darkness.”So you must be Amy”, we shook hands.
“Let’s go to the studio”. I had a wee chuckle. This was my surprise for Amy. The studio is hidden, down curved steps we go,watch your head and we’re in. Its tiny and amazing. Guitars hanging on the wall, drumkit, microphone and headphones hanging from the rafters. Rock n roll.
“So what songs have you got, Amy”. Amy’s still taking it all in and I step in, explain it’s a total surprise. A big smile spreads across his face: nice one! I get the guitar out the boot of the car where I had hidden it earlier.
We went back in the summer for a recording session, a lovely evening. Crack open a can, a bottle. Its a great wee studio. Amy’s ready this time and plays beautifully on the keyboard , her voice is lovely. I’ve never heard this song before, but it’s her own and the lyrics well the lyrics are very powerful, emotional stuff about her struggles. When she finishes there is total silence. We sit quietly crying (well, I did anyway). Finally, our man says “that was good…but we’ll try it again just to be sure”. Hes very good with Amy, gently nudges her along.
They put down three tracks that night and by midnight we were all merry. It was all new to me. I cracked open a can at the start of one song and you could hear it on the playback. Sorry about that I mumble. I decide to leave them for a bit, go for a walk, look across Dunblane far below.
The three songs are sent to a man who lives near a castle on an island. More romance to the story. He polishes the jewels and one day we are handed one hundred copies of Amy’s first EP. Alot of work went into that, plus tears and laughter and some new friendships.
Good times, good times.
PS I’ve not named others to keep their privacy, same goes for the location. If I told you I’d have to kill you sorry. But this blog is for them, and for Amy.