Tuesday. Henry, Ville and I visited a studio where we are to record parts of our debut album. It's right across the river from where I live, and my getting there is a pleasure.
The shortest way across is the old railway bridge, which only features a narrow, wooden lane for pedestrians and bicyclists. The view from the bridge is stunning and I always feel that I'm hanging in mid-air. The bicycle lane ends rather abruptly, while the train tracks go all the way to the station. You are thrown off and swept out through an opening in the fence and then presented with a choice. You can take a path over a small, dry meadow, thus advancing in a diagonal fashion. If it's been raining, the muddy path makes the other option preferable. It's the more stable dirt road next to the river. One then turns to the left, past the tidy home for the substance abusers.
Then, enter a run-down industrial landscape. I strongly doubt that the building complexes are used for the purposes they were once built for. The façades are soaked with mindless graffiti and there are barely any signs of human activity. But after a few hundred metres, the economy seems to function again.
In one of these old buildings on the frontier, we enter a house whose staircase reminds both me and Ville of our common primary school. And as we enter the studio itself, nothing is left of the rough surroundings. The place is light and calm, very much like a well-situated sanitarium. The rooms are, of course, acoustically planned, which makes every harsh voice disappear into the walls.
And it is in this minor, harmonic travel through time and space I find myself looking at two large LCD screens glaring at me, imposing two identical, half-naked, sexy women at me. Their hands are sort of on their way down their briefs.
We are listening through the demo with the studio owner (a sad-eyed rocker of the lowlands, you know them). And my eyes are magnetically drawn to the screens. I am fully aware of the irony of listening to “Draw in the reins” in front of these hot babes. I should be amused and proud of being able to decribe my feelings in such an accurate way, but since I'm supposed to handle a decent conversation at the same time, the distraction is all too real.
I will certainly ask them to remove the images, or block them in some way, while I'm there. I won't say anything about the exploitation of women, because that would do know good here. I'm just going to ask for some well-deserved peace of mind.
written by Mattias