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A Line of Tiny Soaps


Part 2; 18 minutes 16 seconds, 2021

Part 1; 13 minutes, 44 seconds, 2022

The night at bedtime, of a light, half in amplified. Words. Already is which page of an edge?

A recording might describe a sound. Or fail, caught up in the negative space of the air, the emptiness of these surroundings. Two states, the one broken into the other. Didn’t break in one go like dropped glass. Became unsteady on its feet, like a slow tear at the split of a skirt.

Sound makes a stop. Becomes a space to enter and stay in, a while. Voices, a recording of a phone call, or a shiver, or a bus at the top of a hill. Tinny, roving water. Moving images, writing that moves faces. Things in a list. People that you know, or don’t know. Trying to sneak their breath out in even drafts, and the sun is setting. The sun, it’s set.

A Line of Tiny Soaps, commissioned by Catalyst Arts Belfast, was released in December 2021 and January 2022. Written and edited by Lucie McLaughlin. Including recordings at gigs by Gordon Bruce and Anna O’Neill. Vocals by Sara O’Brien, Megan Rudden, Cat McClay, Éiméar McClay, Alex Misick, Lucie McLaughlin.

Best experienced listening on headphones, watching the light fade from the living room walls at the end of the day, on a bus to catch a ferry, in the park whilst a dog passes you with two different coloured eyes, on top of the bed curled up in a ball, or elsewhere.

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