Have you ever loved something in a song so much that you start listening for it every time?
For me, it was the psychedelic sound of The Supremes’ Reflections.
And the tambourine.
Definitely the tambourine.
I’ve listened to The Supremes for as long as I can remember, so that Motown sound is probably permanently lodged somewhere in my brain. But Reflections always stood out to me because it was different.
It was still unmistakably The Supremes, but psychedelia had crept in.
Strange sounds. Dreamy effects. That slightly otherworldly atmosphere wrapped around a brilliant pop song.
And underneath it all was this relentless, driving tambourine pushing everything forward.
I loved the combination of the two.
The psychedelia was the atmosphere. The tambourine was the engine.
Enter Jack Ashford
The tambourine I’d become obsessed with was played by Motown percussionist Jack Ashford, one of the Funk Brothers.
Once you really notice what he’s doing on those records, it’s difficult to stop hearing it.
The tambourine isn’t sitting politely in the background adding a bit of sparkle. It drives.
And I wanted that feeling in one of my own songs.
Not Reflections.
The feeling I got from Reflections.
There’s an important difference.
I didn’t want to recreate The Supremes
I could have created a fictional 1960s girl group and simply tried to recreate the sound of The Supremes.
But why?
The Supremes already exist. They’re one of the greatest girl groups ever made. The last thing the world needs is me attempting to manufacture a slightly wonky replacement.
What interested me far more was working out what it was about those records that had stayed with me all these years, then taking those ingredients and making something of my own.
The harmonies.
The rhythm.
The tambourine.
And especially that wonderful point in the late 60s when psychedelia started creeping into pop and soul and everything got a little bit stranger.
That was far more interesting.
The song actually came first
The funny thing is, Silent Mirror existed before The Bloomettes did.
I already had the song. And I loved it.
But I could hear something else in my head.
I wanted more psychedelia. I wanted that strange late-60s atmosphere. And underneath it, I wanted a tambourine that drove the song rather than just decorated it.
The sensible thing would probably have been to decide the song was finished.
I did not do that.
I pulled it apart into stems.
When Suno Studio first came out, I started working with the individual parts and made the tambourine as its own part, so I could get that driving pulse where I wanted it.
Then I worked on the psychedelic layers around it.
Listen.
Change something.
Listen again.
Change something else.
Decide the previous version was better.
Change it back.
Hear something else.
Start fiddling again.
At some point I also started learning how to put everything together properly in Logic Pro on the iPad.
All because the song was nearly right.
Nearly is dangerous.
I can’t sing a note, but I can make some cracking noises
The psychedelic side became another rabbit hole.
I didn't just want to type “psychedelic 1967 girl group” into a prompt and accept whatever came back.
I wanted particular sounds and harmonies.
The slight problem with this is that sometimes I can hear exactly what I want in my head but have absolutely no idea how to describe it.
So I make the noise myself.
I can’t sing a note.
I can, however, make some cracking noises.
I’ll record myself making sounds, little harmony ideas and assorted noises that would probably concern anyone listening from the next room, then use those as raw material to help create what I'm hearing in my head.
Sometimes I can't explain a sound in words.
But I can go “oooooh-waaaah-eeeeh” into a microphone and think:
Yes. That.
Technology can do quite a lot with “yes, that.”
Then The Bloomettes appeared
Eventually I realised all of this needed somewhere of its own to live.
So I created The Bloomettes.
Three fictional young women making records somewhere around 1967 — except none of the records ever actually existed.
They’re inspired by the girl groups I’ve loved for years, particularly The Supremes, but I don't want them to be a recreation of anyone.
I want them to become recognisable as The Bloomettes.
The psychedelia became part of that identity.
So did the harmonies.
So did the driving percussion.
So did the visual world around them.
Bit by bit, they stopped being “a 60s-style girl group” and started sounding like something of their own.
And that's much more interesting to me than making an imitation of an already established, already brilliant, already famous band.
New songs that feel remembered
That’s really the idea behind Lost Vintage Grooves.
I’m using technology that couldn’t be more modern to chase feelings I’ve carried around for decades.
Not to reproduce the past exactly.
To take something from it and make something new.
Sometimes it’s the warmth of an old soul record.
Sometimes it’s a harmony that takes you straight back somewhere.
Sometimes it’s that strange psychedelic atmosphere you remember without quite knowing why.
And sometimes it’s one man’s tambourine playing on a record from nearly sixty years ago.
The best result for me isn’t somebody saying:
“This sounds exactly like The Supremes.”
I’d much rather someone hear a Bloomettes song and think:
Hang on. Have I heard this before?
You haven’t.
But maybe something about it feels like you have.
And if, eventually, you hear another one and think:
That sounds like The Bloomettes.
Then I’ve done what I set out to do.
All because I became slightly obsessed with psychedelia.
And a tambourine.
