keiyona was written in two halves. wentworth, lime grove, pebbled beach, interlude, and duryard are written to be played through in sequence, as are timestone, the common, sojourn, ludwell, and the outro.
‘keiyona’ means morning star, and relates to the start of my musical journey in devon. the initial idea came about 2 years ago (2017), as I was gearing up to leave exeter to begin studying in birmingham. in typical fashion, i then put the idea aside and moved onto a different one, which was then put aside for a new idea and so on and so on until november last year, when michael and i actually managed to sit down and work on his initial sketch of timestone for long enough that it turned into a playable, almost complete tune. this was the turning point in terms of just having ideas floating around my head, and actually putting the time and effort in to make these ideas into real life projects. hence, the idea to write a suite of music about devon was reborn.
each piece of music is written about a specific place and/or time which meant a lot to me throughout my childhood. instead of trying to write an entire overview for the album, i have written a little bit about each tune to give them some context.
read on if you’d like to know the story behind each piece
wentworth is the road on which my nan and grandad live. they are the most welcoming, lovely people i have ever met, and i feel very privileged to be their grandson. they have the cosiest house, and every time i visit it feels like a retreat away from the hectic lifestyle being a musician can bring. it’s almost as if all sense of time disappears, and before you know it you’ve had a week’s worth of food, a month’s worth of conversation, and you’re leaving with a lifetime’s supply of dehumidifiers.
lime grove is where my grandma and grandad used to live. i spent a lot of time there as a youngin, normally after playing golf with my grandad. for a long time, i wanted to be a golfer, and he and my grandma were the most supportive people ever, driving me to different events, and walking around to watch as much as they could. unfortunately, my grandad passed away several years ago, and even though my grandma has since moved to a different house, lime grove will always be the one i remember as theirs.
i’m so fortunate to have had four such supportive, loving grandparents, and i’ll never be able to thank them enough for everything they have done and continue to do for me.
pebbled beach was written about the first time i felt the ‘musician’s high’. i was 15 at the time and had just played mozart’s requiem in sidmouth church. it was the first large scale orchestral piece i had been involved with, and in the 4th(?) movement, tuba mirum, there is the most beautiful trombone solo, in duet with the bass soloist. this solo was my responsibility that evening, and at the time i thought i had absolutely nailed it (looking back, i’m sure it was pretty pants, but we’'ll gloss over that for the sake of this story). the feeling of being involved with such a special work, and how powerful the requiem was to be a part of was such an amazing uplifting experience, and i remember sitting on the beach afterwards, with just the last glimpses of sun behind the cliffs, having that feeling wash over me.
this piece of music is about that moment
duryard is the area of exeter where the devon youth jazz orchestra used to rehearse, and this piece is my little homage to the time i spent there. they truly were some of the best experiences of my life, playing some of my favourite music with some of my best friends in some incredible places. dyjo was the first time i had really been exposed to ‘proper’ jazz, and without that exposure i highly doubt I would have pursued a career as a musician, even less so as a jazz musician. the time spent playing so many different types of jazz was important, but more so was the downtime, where we would get together and talk about/listen to/play the music that really grabbed us. this shared love of music forged some of the strongest friendships i have, and i still play with many of the people i met through dyjo today. it was here that i discovered so many of the amazing musicians that shaped the way i view music today.
timestone was written by michael and myself one cold rainy november night. it is inspired by dartmoor, a mythical, ancient landscape.
there have been hundreds of myths and legends written about the unique moorlands, from ghosts to witches to pixies to the beast of dartmoor. i spent several nights camping out on the moor with my school, and, round the fire, we’d tell the stories that had been told to scare us by our older brothers and sisters. these made the walk back to the tents all the more nerve-racking
we’ve tried to capture some of the magic and mystery of dartmoor and its many tales in this piece
the common is a piece of music about woodbury common, a place i’m still not sure i’ve actually visited. the last time i *think I visited woodbury common was at night, and it really struck me how eerie the place was. there was an army of thin tall trees like those in the photo, no light, just the moon, and it’s so far away from any roads or towns that the only sounds were coming from the wildlife around me.
the piece is almost entirely improvised by stella, with my only contribution being the initial left hand piano line
sojourn means a short stay, and relates to my relationship with devon now. my life is now in birmingham and therefore the time i spend in devon is getting shorter and shorter. however, exeter is an everchanging city, and each time i visit a new building has popped up (usually another student accommodation block), and there is always something new to see and do.
i tried to reflect this in the music, with the underlying foundations remaining unchanged throughout, yet the trombone solo on top rarely settling for long
ludwell valley is a beautiful patch of land on the outskirts of exeter. it’s home to a working farm, and is just brimming with wildlife. i spent many summer evenings ambling through the various fields, and sitting high on the hill watching the sun fade away. it’s another place where you can sit for hours watching the world tick by below you, without really feeling the time pass by.
this piece is a little ode to those moments where time seems to stand still.
i cannot thank this amazing group of people enough for bringing the dots i wrote to life.
steve saunders - guitar and fx
stella roberts - piano and synthesizers
jonno gaze - drums
matt hollick - electric and acoustic bass
michael anning - saxophones
josh bench - sound engineer and mastering
benjamin conibear - design
alex henshaw - director and camera operator 1
gareth howell - camera operator 2
and, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for your support. there’s so much more to come
joe