Welcome to The Rime!
We’re creating a sound poem of Amble called 'The Rime'- from the chirps of cracking ice to the chug of boats on the tide. We’re taking your ears where your feet can’t go, revealing hidden worlds...
Thanks to a project grant from Arts Council England, Matthew Tuckey and a small creative team are now developing 'The Rime', in response to The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. We're in that brilliant first stage of research and development, where we're asking for your stories, and getting to know Amble with microphones, one ice cream fuelled day at a time!
We've created a Digital Scrapbook of community contributions and early artistic ideas, to showcase the rich and vibrant sights and sounds to be found here. Our hope is to create a sound journey of Amble with all that we have discovered, to be enjoyed in a physical installation in Amble itself, and eventually on tour!
Why 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'?
As a teenager, Matthew spent many summers aboard the TS Royalist - a sail-training brig - in addition to a brief spell as a volunteer watch leader with the Tall Ships Youth Trust's sail training Challenger Yachts. The poem calls up those memories, and resonates - with a relentless draw towards the sea and adventure. Keep scrolling if you'd like to dive into the poem itself, and treat your ears to a field recording of Amble at dawn.
"On leaving school and deciding what to do next, I very nearly pursued a career in the Super Yacht Industry. But when it came down to a choice between an interview for a three year cadetship and going to London for a weekend of theatre shows with friends, I chose the less financially lucrative option!"
It's a lottery with the weather at sea, particularly in sail training.
The views, whether near or far from shore, are always dramatic - even when wrestling with a lack of wind or an abundance of rain!
Have a listen...
Here is one of Matthew's field recordings to whet your appetite... and extracts from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner itself, read by Rue Collinge. We hope they inspire you! Sit back and let your ears go where your feet can't take you.
Amble at Dawn by Matthew Tuckey
Seabirds fly past and dive for fish. Fishing boats leave the harbour and head out to sea. A spring tide steadily going out provides a constantly progressing bed of sound.
Composed from a long format recording made on Amble's South Pier, looking north over the water.
released May 29, 2021
Field recording, composition, and mastering by Matthew Tuckey.
all rights reserved
Streaming is limited to three plays per person. The track is available to purchase from Bandcamp by clicking on the track name.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
'And now the Storm-blast came,
and he was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd,
Like noises in a swound!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was wither'd at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The moving Moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside—
Her beams bemock'd the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charméd water burnt alway
A still and awful red.
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watch'd the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they rear'd, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watch'd their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coil'd and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
Till noon we quietly sail'd on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fix'd her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion—
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sail'd softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.
O dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steep'd in silentness
The steady weathercock.
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.