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<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><id>tag:lovebirds.blog.co.uk,2009-11-08:/</id><title>Lovebirds</title><link rel="self" href="http://lovebirds.blog.co.uk/feed/atom/posts/"/><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://Lovebirds.blog.co.uk/"/><generator version="1.0">MokoFeed</generator><updated>2009-11-08T05:38:05+01:00</updated><entry><id>tag:lovebirds.blog.co.uk,2008-03-08:/2008/03/08/the-lovebird-3834353/</id><title>The Lovebird</title><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://Lovebirds.blog.co.uk/2008/03/08/the-lovebird-3834353/"/><author><name>lover143</name></author><published>2008-03-08T05:59:29+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-08T06:02:14+01:00</updated><content type="html">	&lt;p&gt;A Lovebird is always an amateur who has humbly come into the studio to record something special for a loved one. They'll explain that it's for a birthday, wedding anniversary, or Valentine's Day, and there's an old song that means a lot to them that they'd like to record as best they can. Often they'd just bring the song in on a CD and ask me to remove the vocals and do a quick recording of them singing to that track. I'd record it as best I could, add a few effects and burn it to a CD for them.&lt;/p&gt;
	&lt;p&gt;Lovebirds used to come into the studio all the time. It was both a pleasure and an honor to watch them sing their hearts out; however, over time I noticed that they were coming in less and less. Initially, I feared that the gentle art of the serenade was dying, but as it turns out, they were still actively recording their own personal songs, but from the comfort of home, as opposed to the often intimidating domain of the recording studio.&lt;/p&gt;
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