EDGAR ALLEN STEDEL.
Saturday April 13 2002.
Great Southern Land Mass Known As Australia.
As I write this, it is a beautiful Australian morning. Slight breeze coming in off the Ocean that stretches out here so far, so blue – less than 100 meters from where I type.
I had no idea which category or which RO Forum the following would fall under. I didn’t know if anybody else up on the RO Forum had ever experienced anything like this. Or if they had, whether they are still regarded as sane, or whether their studio bookings suddenly went down. I thought maybe Julian’s Forum would be a good place - because I trust him. And he’d soon know this was not some idle chatter from Stedel on too much coffee. He’s very knowledgeable, He’d soon see that the Ghost or Spirit I talk about here is not some compact digital mixing console. He’d get frightened though, and shut my post down. I wouldn’t blame him.
Whatever….It’s best I do this on the Fairlight Forum which I moderate.
But first, if you decide to go further, oh brave Reader, take care.
FAIRLIGHT FORUM MODERATOR STEDEL advises caution. This tale is as true as the blood that runs through your veins. Though it may turn to ice chilled water when you finish reading this. Pay close attention. If it’s nighttime where you are, and you’re alone – maybe you should come back in the morning. Or at least go and grab a friend. Or check on the children.
This is true.
But first… take a break for a minute. Then either continue to read or decide to come back later. But please, whatever you do, pay close attention.
This will take a little bit of time, so please, bear with me.
THE BOOK OF GHOSTS
Six years ago I acquired a house, in partnership with my ex-partner – (who now lives overseas). The property now house’s me, two others, and my studio. We took possession, as you do, with, dreams, hopes, and a whole lot of money owing to the bank. But… (- we had plans! - ) we could cope with that. Eight weeks later I moved out. This wasn’t in the plan. A number of quite extreme events had taken place. At first, I thought these to be of things corporal. The sad, twisted cliches that fill any C&W lonely beer drinkers song. I now think this may be wrong.
There may well be other, alternative possible explanations, way beyond our ken.
I began moving back into the house three years ago.
At first things were good. I began to appreciate more how beautiful it is here. And how much I love the area in which I live.
About a year later I was alone in the house. I had been working in my studio,
sample mangling on a much loved, at the time, Ensonic ASR 10 keyboard-sampler workstation. About 1.40am I decided enough was enough. Time for some well earned sleep. I shut down the workstation, and switched off the studio lights. I then began to walk through the house switching off any other lights blazing away my hard-earned dollars.
I went into the lounge room, and walked across the polished wooden floor to switch off a lamp. As I walked back to the main light switch, I thought I saw something moving, right at the edge of my peripheral vision. I could have sworn I saw something move over near the fireplace. I quickly turned to see what it was..I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing there. Stedel, I said to myself, you’re spooking yourself. Grow up. So I switched off the main light and walked into the kitchen. I had a strong feeling that I was being followed.
If you haven’t already left, and are wondering whether to think on this for a while, cool. -- - uh - just got to get U2’s "Elevation" playing one more time –‘scuse me,.. Sorry had to stop here for a moment. It’s good I’m writing this in the day. Even now…as I write this, my blood starts to run cold, and I keep an eye constantly over my shoulder.
So ….returning to that dark wild night…. It was now, nearly 2.00am. Back in the kitchen ( - I’m looking at its open door now - ), the light is still on. The feeling hasn’t gone.. I’m being followed… it’s so damn strong, it’s almost physical. Goddamn! I have to stop and turn around, and face whatever it is, front on. I do this and stand there for a while.
Nothing. This is kinda getting unsettling now. I check the other rooms. Still nothing. I go back to the kitchen and have a little chuckle to my self. Stedel you still believe in ghosts, goblins and angels, I told myself, and grinned at thinking, yes I do. I liked that. Yes, ghosts and goblins, angels, God, Jesus, and the Argonauts too.
I switched off the kitchen light and went to bed. I had been lying there, drifting off to sleep, when I felt a gentle, but firm, slap upon my cheek. Undeniable this time. I sat bolt up right and turned on the light. What the fuck was that I thought. Shit!… I sat there preparing myself for anything, and listened for any sound from any other part of the house. After about twenty minutes nothing else had happened.
With a mix of relief and amazement, and slightly angry, I turned off the light and went back to getting some sleep. About ten minutes later… the same thing. Only this time it was if somebody had taken a running jump from the bottom of the bed, and landed on my legs….
Where they stayed and settled for a moment. I jumped up and fuckin’ switched on every light in the place. In fact those light kept blazin’ all through the night and into the day. Yes sir! All day and all of the night. Remember The Kinks? The only time I feel all right, is with the lights on? Not this ghost baby. Not with this Stedel!
I had no sleep that night. In the morning I made myself a coffee. I sat in the kitchen and thought about what had happened during the night. I walked around the house - went into every room. Checked outside. Strolled to the path that goes down to the beach, and looked down the coast. Went back into the house, and got ready for work. The next night
was as quiet and as uneventful as I’d ever experienced. I had a good sound sleep.
So dear reader. I ask.? Is Stedel mad? Would you trust any of what I say from this day on? Perhaps you never did, confirmed now, your thoughts of me. ( -His lunacy I saw from first day he first posted -).
Except…. Dear folk,… so smug, so gentle there. I’m not the only one who’s spent time with the Ghost who visits, and lives in my studio here. …..….And this was not the only experience I myself have had.
There, my tale begins. So… go back to work, or whatever you do. And if this tale visits you occasionally…perhaps late in the night, when the wind’s lonely groan wakes you from where you fell asleep at the console’s feet, (after making a note to call the acoustics expert who sound proofed your studio) remember -these words, written here, are true. But don’t worry, I myself was skeptical – to say the least – and, if told this story by somebody else, would think yes, something’s amiss, but it’s with yon brain there. If you are still with me..,Have a break. See what you think by the end of Chapter Two. I’ll post sometime soon…..
(but not at night!).
I've been talking to Stephen Paul on his forum about this. Stephen has had some sort of "spooky" experiences himself. At the moment I'm really interested in his theory about reverb (a particular favourite enhancement of mine in the recording and mixing process).
If any of you have had any "BOOK OF GHOSTS" type experiences, I'd love to hear them. You will be treated very seriously, as I said, what happened, and what is happening in my studio now, is real. However you explain it, whatever basis you think this is happening on...apart from an extended example of individual and samll group hysteria.
Try and come back for part 2. It gets better....
In the best of spirits,