Jon Brooks "52" available to pre-order.

Jon Brooks '52' is available to pre-order .
LPs will be dispatched on or about the 13th of October.

SOLD OUT

500 hand numbered copies, on beautiful reverse mat board with a download code inside the sleeve.

Jon Brooks returns to Clay Pipe after 2012's sell out 'Shapwick'. '52' sees Jon taking a gentle side step away from his Advisory Circle work for Ghost Box, into more personal and reflective territory.
Inspired by his Grandmothers' house, synth-laden and atmospheric '52' contains 14 aural memories of the house and garden.

“... will you stop tearing up that newspaper? It’s making a mess down here”. I sat quietly and watched the pieces float from the mezzanine, through the railings, down to the floor
below. I was reminded of late autumn, when dried seed helicopters from the trees were
abundant - their free-flowing nature always a reminder of our life cycles. It was an early
meditation; something to help focus the restless mind.

Silence broke eventually. “They all come from Leafield. They head from there with the
purpose of making our lives difficult!”. I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I let it go. I thought of
their colonies, their families, the way they moved and went about their business - it was a
fascinating other world, where everyone looked out for each other. Always a lucky escape
for them, through the hum of a summer evening.

“Doctor of Philosophy. That’s what it means, it’s an abbreviation”. I wondered, as I pulled
another thick rubber band around the arm of the sofa. The structures I made seemed to
serve no purpose at all; they didn’t need to.

“... I’m resting up for the weekend”. I always noticed that. The pencil sharpener, the cuckoo
clock, everything in its’ place. The way the dust fell in the late afternoon sun. I wouldn’t
leave.

On the way back up the hill, we passed the three monkeys. “Do you think you’ll go to
college?”. “I think so”, I answered, not really knowing why I’d chosen that reply. The words
flutter-echoed through the stone and brick, in the heat of the day; all the way past Mr
Mulberry’s, Mrs Viner’s, Mrs Mouser’s.

SIDE 1
Morning Window
The Mezzanine
Fibre Optics
Pond i
Hothouse
All The Way From Leafield
December Trees

SIDE 2
The Back Room
Lichen
Walk In Store
Pond ii
Wax Lemons
Whispering Glass
End Of The Corridor