Embracing imperfection 🐚

Field recordings from Scotland's wintery landscape

Feb 10, 2025

At the start of the year, I took the long train up to Edinburgh from London to meet printmaker and storyteller Morvern Graham. This was long overdue, having worked together remotely on two of my music projects (my second EP Cloud Walking and a song called “The Favourite”, which I co-released with Jacob Norris). I was there to interview her about her work for my January Found Sound episode of Ffern’s podcast ‘As The Season Turns’.

Morvern lives on the east coast of Scotland, in a beautiful home overlooking the sea. I regularly have to stop our conversation just to gawk at the view. The sky is miraculously clear during my early January stay, offering a dramatic sunset, a clear view of the planets and stars at night, and a blazing sunrise while we eat a breakfast of tea cakes, hard boiled eggs and brunöst (a Norwegian caramelised cheese, which is a favourite of hers).

We stroll down to a nearby beach, which is carpeted in white shells. It’s a treasure hunt. The treasure? Sea glass, hag stones and a vast number of eroded limpet shells.

For her next folklore video, she plans to the tell the tale of the Shellycoat, Scottish folklore’s answer to the bogeyman. Shrouded by a coat made of shells (hence the name), the Shellycoat is said to haunt the coast, rivers and streams, letting out haunting cries to frighten its victims. Morvern believes the Shellycoat is misunderstood, perhaps looking for companionship, yet doomed to a life of solitude.

While scanning the beach for the limpet shells, which will later be fastened together into a garment in honour of this coastal creature, Morvern nonchalantly shares these words of wisdom:

“I think it's so sad that we don't think of ourselves in the same way that we think of shells or rocks, because this beach is far from perfect. It's full of holes and imperfections, and these shells are all broken and battered, but we think of them as beautiful because they've lived a life. And I think it's sad that we don't think of our own bodies in the same way.”

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And it’s true isn't it? We admire the gnarled oak, the lichen on rocks, the ever changing coastline. It’s not so simple when it comes to our own faces and bodies. As I move ever closer to the big 3-0, I’m going to do my best to resist the tidal wave of skincare ads targeted at me now I’m in my late twenties, and ignore the news of the latest potion or procedure to hit Hollywood. I’ll don my shelly coat and take to the beach if needs be.

In the effort to embrace imperfection, I did something that no sane person should do and spoke to a camera in the woods for a few hours. And so, my first ever field recording YouTube video is born. It’s just over 12 minutes long and features a few tips and tricks I’ve picked up along the way, as well as some relaxing sounds of a river in the outskirts of Edinburgh.

Making a YouTube video like this has been on my to-do list for a while, and its opened up a can of worms as more ideas unearth themselves while I’m meant to be going to sleep. I suspect it won’t be the last I make, so please do come along for the journey.

In my time as a freelancer working in music and sound, I’ve tried to steer away from perfectionism. I find it can be the enemy of getting work out there, and I’ve learnt to share projects when they feel ready, as opposed to when they feel perfect (does this even exist?!).

A friend of mine said he didn’t want his archive of unreleased music to “rot”. I thought he hit the nail on the head: hesitation to share work when it’s finished can mean it never sees the light of day, as our tastes change and we move onto new interests. Sometimes, I look back at my earlier projects and can't hear anything but the flaws. But I’m glad I released these projects when I did, as they mark that moment in time. My friend, filmmaker Michelle Sanders sent me a newsletter by Oliver Burkeman who argues that we should aim for 70% rather than 100% perfection:

“Every time you release a creative work into the world, or make a commitment, or take an action, despite being no more than 70% satisfied with your output or confident in your abilities, you’re not only bringing something into concrete reality. You’re also expanding your ability to act in the presence of feelings of displeasure, worry and uncertainty, so that you can take more actions, and more ambitious actions, later on.”

So, for 2025, my intention is to create more and share it, imperfections and all.

Coming up

My next gig with my band is at Kings Place, London • Saturday 5th April. Book tickets here
I’m also making a 20 minute spatial sound installation at Kings Place exploring urban nature in King’s Cross, London • Saturday 5th April. Book tickets here

Recommendations

Natalie Wildgoose’s beautiful song “Come Into The Garden”. I love the rich, warm sound of the recording. It makes me instantly nostalgic. Watch the music video here
Bird, a coming-of-age film directed by Andrea Arnold. Watch the trailer here
The Wall, a book by Marlen Haushofer. I read this last year and was blown away. The world Haushofer creates treads the line between dystopia and utopia

Music, nature & field recording with Alice Boyd

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