My wife Lauren and I arrived in Calabria at the family home of an old roommate of mine, Francesco, lovingly known to me as Franny.
8 years ago, Franny and I lived together in a Victorian manor house in London, England. Now, before your visions of turrets, towers and old-world luxury form and settle, let me add to it 8 other strangers (plus my creative biz partner, Jenny) and 2 (tiny) bathrooms.
During this time in London, I was writing the songs for what would become, Violet, Gold + Rose. We had a room at the back of the house that I would sometimes go to so I could make noise unselfconsciously—hard to do in a house of 11. I suppose it was here that most of these scraps of melody were recorded as I can hear the reverb of that room.
I didn’t know these recordings existed until three weeks ago, when sitting at the kitchen table of his family home in Italy, Franny excitedly took out his computer to show me what he had kept all these years.
It was like seeing a picture of myself from 8 years ago that I didn’t know was taken.
How did he have these? Did I send them to him? I don’t think so? I was too insecure to openly share demos.
Was he standing by the door as I went to the back room for a session of unselfconscious melodic mumbling? Did he know that if I knew he was there (accomplished classic piano player that he is) these recordings wouldn’t exist. In a house of 11, Franny would be the one I wanted to impress most, musically speaking.
I can hear some of the influences that were riding high for me at the time: Nina Simone, Edith Piaf and Jeff Buckley. In the studio recording those influences melted further into the background.
The memos are titled, Sweet Savour. The song eventually became the title track of the album, Violet, Gold + Rose. Above is an edited version of said melodic mumblings.
You can listen here to see how much it changed.
On one of our last days in Italy Franny asked me to play Violet, Gold + Rose on his brother-in-law’s Stratocaster. I obliged and, nervous and slightly rusty with the song, I bungled my way through it. Franny sat with rapt attention. When I stopped halfway, not being able to find the chords for the bridge, he boisterously clapped, yelling, “Bravo! Bravo, Wardy!”
Sometimes the ones we worry about impressing the most are the ones most deeply in our corner.
Thanks, Franny.
Love,
David
Violet, Gold + Rose (early sketch)