Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.
𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 – 𝙀𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮, 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙚𝙪𝙧 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚
Charles realises the importance of length…
What a stupid week I’m having. Quite absurd, honestly. There is no crisis and nothing terrible has happened. For which I am most fortunate. I speak of home problems. Not “problems at home”, as people say, but problems with the home itself. The good thing about renting, is that you don’t have to fork out yet more money when something goes wrong. The bad thing about renting is everything else. At least this is how I had come to think about it. This week, however, has shown me that there is in fact nothing good about renting. It is, as we English say, “a mug’s game”. So! With this in mind, I will relay to you my stupid saga. Several weeks ago, my shower decided to drip profusely, to the point where I decided that many litres per hour was too much to ignore any longer. Within a couple of days a plumber arrived to fix it. He barely spoke any English – but of course. I tried to explain the problem by miming with sound effects, and at last he seemed to understand. Much noise and mess later, he uttered a noise. He proudly showed me how the thermostat knob was no longer stiff, and gestured for me to try it for myself (perhaps to prove that he didn’t have something up his sleeve). I declined the offer and took his word for it. Baffled by why he was showing me this, I then politely asked, “and the drip?”. His reply was a look, as if to say I had stripped in front of him and done a little dance. I repeated, complete with miming and sound effects. “Ah okay okay. Noh. Repless repless”. What he meant was, it couldn’t be done (he couldn’t do it) without replacing the whole shower mixer (I now learn this is what it is called, for it mixes hot and cold – clever). Days passed, and he arrived again. He did the job very swiftly and that was that. Weeks passed, but now the tap itself was dripping. I ignored it as it wasn’t that bad. However, by this point, my kitchen sink decided it was full, and refused to drink anymore. Oh what joy. They ask if I can do 8am the following day. I ask if 10am is possible. All is arranged for 10am.
At 9am, my buzzer goes. But of course, I am busy with my morning ritual of this and also that. As I am not partial to answering the door in pyjamas (nor to the smell of sewage with my morning coffee), I decided to ignore it and wait until 10am – the time we had agreed. At 10am I looked out of the window and saw the chap in his van. At 10.05 I saw the chap in his van. Eventually at 10.15 I got a text from his boss telling me that the bloke was outside. I wondered if this bloke was accustomed to some sort of red carpet. Am I to go outside and open his van door for him? I went to the front door. There he stood in the pavement like a lost child. He told me my buzzer did not work – his assumption because I had not ushered him in with a mouthful of cornflakes. Anyway. He tried to fix the sink. He failed. Quel surprise. He told me that his snake wasn’t long enough – that’s what SHE said. It turned out he meant his drain auger. He said that in order to get closer to the problem he would have to cut the box that holds the pipes, and of course cut the pipes themselves. I wasn’t happy with this, but I couldn’t communicate with him because he couldn’t understand a word I was saying. I tried calling his boss. Couldn’t get through. I texted. I got no reply. I then called the agency. It was literally to be a query. A simple, polite, calm query as to whether this much hassle, cost and mess had to take place, when one could simply get a longer snake (I get emails about this all the time). I asked to speak with the main man. He wasn’t there. I asked to speak with the second in command. He was on another line. And so we come to David. Pleasant enough, polite, overly “everything’s in hand because we are the best”. Snooty, frankly, but completely fine. Like a 2-and-a-half-star hotel having the erroneous impression of being in direct competition with The Ritz. I explained my situation and asked whether all this palaver was really necessary. I kept saying I completely understood that if it had to be done, then it had to be done. By this point, the plumber’s boss had replied to my text, telling me the length of the plumber’s snake. Not only was this not helpful, but it was neither the time nor the place for such kink. Turned out he meant the auger – but still, this did not help things. We all knew this. David and I continued on the phone and they had the plumber’s boss on the other line. I was told it was imperative that this be done. David asked me more about the problem. As I was explaining things, his voice changed rather suddenly. “Charles! Charles! Charles! Hold Fire! Hold Fire! Hold fire!”, he said with impactful urgency. It was strangely alarming – as if there had been an emergency in their office. “Why do you CARE what they do?”, he asked. I explained that it was my home, and that I didn’t want all the mess if it could be avoided. His voice switched to abrupt. “Why don’t you get a longer snake and do it yourself?” – stunned by this line, I asked if he was being serious. He smugly and proudly said that he was deadly serious. I said that he was being very rude, to which he replied “Goodbye my friend”, and hung up.
I called the plumber’s boss to get this sorted once and for all. This time I got through. I explained everything, and not only did he completely see what I meant, but he completely agreed. He didn’t want to shell out more money than he had to. Apparently the only reason for all this absurdity was so it could be done quickly without delay. We agreed that the plumber would order a longer thingmie online and that there would therefore be a short delay of a few days. He promised to keep in touch by text as the saga continued. That was Friday. Saturday lunchtime welcomes me with multiple crazed buzzes from my door buzzer. It is Saturday. I am busy. It was the plumber with his mate. After buzzing countless times, he called me several times from several numbers. Why on earth does this bloke have my number without my consent? But we’ll gloss over that. I eventually answered the phone. The spanner was well and truly digging into my day. “We outside”, the voice said. Was this aliens from outer space? Was this the Mafia? Was this a command? I explained that I am busy and that no arrangement had been made. I was really fed up and annoyed by this point. But not nearly as much as a moment later – this really sent me over the edge. While on the phone with this bloke, my door buzzer went like the blazes again!! “Are you serious?? Are you actually buzzing my door while I’m on the phone to you??”……. “Iss other man”, he replied. “What is WRONG with you??”, I said – he hung up. I then looked out of the window. Two lost men, one with a long snake, and one with a cordless reciprocating saw – both wandered off. They were actually going to just ignore everything and do what they had planned in the first place, despite everything!!!! Because of this very article, I requested from the plumber’s boss that the plumber is not to attend at any time on Monday because I am busy all day. That was Sunday. He replied and told me that he would not be sending anyone to fix anything at any time because I did not open the door to two unannounced strangers on a busy Saturday. He told me off! Apparently HE was allowed to be off on Saturday, but I was not. Why is everyone unable to grasp the situation? And more to the point, why is everyone so bloody angry??!! He says, with clenched teeth. So here I am, with a blocked sink and a dripping shower tap, seemingly despised by the world for having done nothing wrong. Oh, did I not say? The chap replaced the new mixer with an even newer mixer, which after one day drips far more than the slightly less new one. A constant stream, actually. So he didn’t in fact fix even that.
Another thing that went wrong in the past week or two was my earphones. Thankfully, not a job for “the agency”. These glorious tiny speakers finally passed over. Well, as always, ONE of them did. Not bad for a decade though. Anyway, it was time for a new pair. Shouldn’t be too much of an ordeal. BUT! This is me. My life is sound. I mean, after having read all this (well done, by the way), my life is anything BUT sound, but I mean my life is all to do with sound. I never enjoy music as much as with these little earphones of mine. It’s not about clarity or “perfect sound”. It’s about enjoyment. So of course they had to die on me. I picked several pairs to try. Blindingly expensive. Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, meh. This is how I felt as I was trying them. That was inside. Outside was more no, no, meh, maybe, hmm, not bad, okay, no. Nothing gave me that joy. It all felt like analysis. I was so damned tense from all this crap of the past few days, so this was not helping. But……. I then tried the third and final pair. I forgot that I was testing them. I forgot all my troubles. I was 20 again!! After this bastard of a week, I was screaming (in my head) LET ME BREATHE!!!!! These tiny little earphones finally allowed me to do so. It was my much needed relief.
And the moral of the story? Well, there are many. Learn DIY: that’s one. Don’t involve yourself with people who don’t care because they’re not paid enough: that’s another. But for me, the moral was that music genuinely is a healer, at least for me. And with that being said, I would like to take you out of this LONG, arduous journey, and into an altogether much more satisfying, enriching experience. From life, to music. Thank you for being so patient. Why would I do that to you?? Probably because I needed to get it off my chest. My apologies. I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write.
And so, as promised, the music. Please welcome Emily Gray (ah Jeez, my keyboard has decided to correct that to Gary – this’ll be fun to write) and Monsieur Stone. They have just released a really, REALLY proper song. This is high class stuff. Let Me Breathe, is the title. Collabs are funny things, aren’t they. They can really hit, they can miss the mark, and they can really bomb. Things have to work. I believe the artists have to get on. OR, they have to have a mutual adoration for the song and for music in general. In other words, you should be able to hear their bond in some way or other, be it as a friendship or a polished business transaction. Let Me Breathe manages both, I think. Let me take you back to October 5th 2023. Emily posted a little video on Instagram. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. She is known for being one of the most active social players (for it is indeed a game). The video shows her playing and singing an unfinished song, and is under a minute long. It was initially simply to portray how she was feeling at the time, and to see if others sometimes perhaps felt similarly. That was it. Nothing more. That was it to us anyway… But behind closed doors, something was to evolve from this. A chap called Monsieur Stone had seen the reel and decided to get in touch with Emily. Luckily the message was seen. She was asked if there was more of the song, and if the song was complete. After replying negatively, Monsieur Stone (Michael Pierre-Desmonde) asked if she would be interested in him making a song around it. Of course, this was to be a duo, with writing credits for them both. You can already see her smile now. She was delighted with the idea! And so they got to work. Believe me, it’s been a long time coming, but it’s absolutely worth the wait.
We all know Emily Gray (corrected spelling) for her medieval folk and her light-natured folk pop for a modern ear. But some of you might remember a song she released less than one month after this Instagram video. It’s different. And in a way, it is also a collab (though not credited as one, mainly because it does not share a vocal). Killing Time was a song that featured in this very Corner, and it was one that I was involved with (I’m proud to say). It is also my favourite of hers (he says with as much bias as one man can carry). Let Me Breathe feels to me like a Part Two. It’s deep, it’s rich, it’s smokey, and it’s dark. But it is certainly far from being without light. Emily has mellowed and matured. This song is the absolute opposite of her previous release from last month. That one was quintessential Emily Gray (gaaahh!! God dammit, Gary!), with all her optimism, joie de vivre and relentless smiles. Let Me Breathe feels like the “let’s be real” moment. As if she “can’t keep up this level of happiness forever”! I would right now like to thank Michael for removing Emily’s smiley-face hoodie, with his quiet knowledge that there was a black t-shirt lurking beneath. He knew she had depth and problems, like the rest of us. He wasn’t trying to harm or hurt her in any way, it’s just that music made from THESE feelings tends to hit harder than from THOSE feelings. Because it’s genuine. Now, let me just add, Emily’s happy stuff is fab! Most people know and love her for this very thing. It probably brightens up their day. But when one is as happy as I, it’s sometimes good to be reminded of the lows. Have you met sarcasm? You have now.
Being a duet, Let Me Breathe has two voices. One of course is Emily’s. The other (rather predictably) is Michael’s. There’s far more to this track than a couple of voices, but let’s start with them. Emily opts for the original key as the Instagram video – low and dark – how I prefer her voice (she has a big range). She is open and honest, with slight gravel to the cords. Michael sings the same range – unusual for a male/female collab. Usually the man will sing an octave lower, but because Emily’s voice is already low, that wouldn’t work for Michael. The result is quite rare because it means that although they are both singing the same pitches (separately in different verses), Michael’s voice sounds higher and lighter because one would normally expect a lower voice from a man. If that makes sense. It is rare for the man to have the lighter voice. This did happen around a hundred years ago when men would sing in falsetto, opting for the higher harmony, but them days is long gone. Hence how refreshing this is. Actually, funnily enough, his voice reminds me somewhat of NAS artist Louise Lewis – quite deep for a lady person. As to the sum of Emily’s and Michael’s voices, it’s quite a special match. It is their disparate nature that makes the sound work. It renders it unique. Now let’s talk about ”the rest”.
Although the original video had Emily playing the guitar, it was decided that Michael should play all the guitar parts. He then added the bass and of course sang (and wrote) the second verse himself. It sounded good by this point, but they knew something more was needed. You see, this collab is in a way a collab of three, not two. No, no. It’s not me. Eric Pilavian is an insanely talented and devoted producer and all-round musician. He added the piano and the cello. But I don’t mean he was huddled over a screen, programming these parts until they sounded realistic enough to pass off as real. Ain’t nobody gots time fo’ dat! Why bother if you’ve got the studio, the mics, the equipment, the experience, the instruments and the talent! Eric set to writing parts for the piano and the cello, then simply played them. The grand piano was mic’d up and touched with feeling, as the cello was caressed with the tightest hair. THIS for me is what truly brings the song into the “special” category. But what then? It’s still got to be mixed… Eric is no slouch. He then went and mixed it. He’s a man after my own heart, that’s for sure. You know what he does with the song? He lets it breathe. But not to the point where it’s airy and wide open. This is still very much a close sound. A personal sound. Like someone is stroking your mourning heart. The guitars have that balmy Spanish tinge, the piano adds the fullness, the vocals reassuringly take your hand, and the cello is simply there to make you cry at the beauty you are witnessing. Thank you, all three of you, for creating what I needed. It truly did let me breathe.
As to my long introduction, I know you love to laugh at my misfortune. In hindsight, I’m sure I will join you. For the moment though, this sight is decidedly current. Why was this article so long? Because in this instance, length is funnier. That’s what SHE said. Well, that was at least fifty shades of Gary.
Didn’t like the length? David suggests you make a shorter one and do it yourself. “Goodbye, my friend!”
Listen to 𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Spotify playlist HERE!
Listen to 𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 on the 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 Apple Music playlist HERE!
Listen to 𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 on YouTube HERE!
Follow 𝙀𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙮 on Instagram HERE!
Follow 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙚𝙪𝙧 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚 on Instagram HERE!
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#review #song #songreview #EmilyGray #MonsieurStone #EricPilavian #LetMeBreathe #singersongwriter #folk #ballad #mood #singing #cello #piano #guitar #pro #CharlesConnolly #ConnollysCorner #CC #NAS #NewArtistSpotlight #IWantMyNAS #StopPayola
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