As our proposed recording sessions edge toward immediate reality, I find my self flashing back to a period exactly three years ago when spring was likewise the back-drop for the documentation of song.  It was the making of Ode Hazelwood’s Radio Noise.  The late Mrs. Hazelwood and I were living in a rustic old manse that had a particular antiquarian charm.  The reverberation in its halls was ideal for our aesthetic in those days.  Prior to those sessions I had laboured tirelessly toward converting those quarters into a working recording studio.  The control room was concealed within the close, dusky confines of the attic, where it would be indiscernible to those performers in the great room.  The resulting atmosphere was one of sequestration from the technologies of the day which I had perceived as encroaching upon our lives.  Radio Noise was reactionary in the sense that it represented a great rebellion against the homogenization of society, race-mind nonsense, and anything else which I perceived was seeking to steal away my artistic, spiritual and societal liberty.  Needless to say, I was fairly high-strung in those days – intensity being equal-to passion in my philosophy.  When I listen back to that album, I encounter vehement emotions which I have not felt since.  Therefore, in hind-sight I consider the epoch of Radio Noise to be a time of healing.

These days I do not imagine myself in resistance to anything.  I am clued-in to the quantum-choreography of life.  I have experienced the perfection and beauty which is surging through everything within the range of my perception, via some mysterious gift of heightened intuition and objectivity – higher consciousness, if you will.  It is from this perspective that I laboured upon my compositions, and from which they will be consecrated in recording.  I feel as though I have reached the summit of some sacred mountaintop to spout my discoveries along the way into the collective consciousness where they may spiral into infinity.  Yet all-the-while, I am keenly aware that even this is a stepping-stone along the way.  Three years from now I will very possibly reflect-upon this time with a wisdom that is unavailable now.  I am reminded of a decidedly inspired line in one of my own songs on Radio Noise called ‘Devils Radio’, wherein I queried “Are we behind or ahead of the times? – Only time will tell…”

The evolving,
Mr. Hazelwood

Some mornings, I transfer my musings to a local coffeehouse to be among other creatures of the day while I write and reflect, as an excuse to consume copious amounts of café noir – or vice-versa.  Yester-day as I sat among the variant chatter, toiling over my personal journal (that intimate dialogue with myself which I choose not to publicize), I noticed a French gentleman to whom I had been formerly introduced but had never spoken to at length.  In respect for his anonymity, I shall refer to him as ‘Monsieur Jacques Cartier’.  We two shook hands in mutual acknowledgement, and sat together for an energizing morning chat. 

It came to light that M. Cartier, who appeared to be in his sixties, had done no small amount of traveling in his days.  He carried about his aspect a particular aura of wisdom which can only be gleaned from empirical understandings.  He had a glowing intellect which was apparent even before he spake, but which traveled along his dialogue as though on a beam of light.  I listened intently as he described the wonders which his eyes had beheld.  We traveled together in discussion from the rainforests of Latin America to the great snow-banks of Canada, across mountains and fjords in Europe, over volcanoes in the South Pacific, into magnificent palaces in Asia, and through bustling Arab cities.  At each point along the path, a long-burning flame of desire within me was stoked, to eventually set all my senses ablaze!  I myself was an ardent traveler in my youth, though not to such a degree.  But, it was enough to establish an understanding that I am most contented when I am en route.  I have never tired of exploration, yea my passion for new cultures – the people, customs, art, music, architecture, and etcetera is only multiplied by their experience.  M. Cartier stood before me essentially no more alive than for having been around the world, but perhaps he had been around the world because he was more alive!  Nonetheless, I felt grateful for the gift of this interaction wherein I was immensely inspired to sail my ship out of this channel into an open sea where I might be unobstructed on all sides. 

I count this moment of awareness in-addition-to innumerable motivations to put my whole self into the making of our album.  There could not be more optimism on my part and by those who are set to be in attendance for next week-end’s sessions.  As I am currently in the midst of a dream come to life,  there is no cause to believe that I should wake up to any alternate reality now.  I therefore sail onward..

The Explorer,
Joseppi Hazelwood de l’Autre Monde

To my devout congregation of aesthetes;

There is exactly one week until I and the New Transcendentalists convene within the hallowed apartments of the House of David recording studio to engage in a course of experimentation which has never-before-been-attempted.  It is our aim to create a music that is completely spontaneous and in-the-moment, wherein the sum is greater than the parts.  We hope to render something that is strange to the ears (as anything truly new would be), yet intrinsically Good – filling a sonic void and thereby useful.  Music is to me an invention, and every Good invention begins with an idea.  Ideas come from the aether – not from that which is seen!  The world needs-not another version of the tooth-brush or the can-opener!

I had a dream last night wherein I had called a meeting with my fellow recordists to address the ‘rules’ of these sacred sessions.  It came to light that there was but one rule.  Each personage was asked to check his or her distinguished Ego at the door, and thereby given a ‘Claim Check’ in-order-to retrieve it in departing.  Beyond this one essential requisite, freedom was the mantra.  Many of my compositions have been born of dreams, and so I would feign-not dismiss such a message as a reliable bearer of Truth.  Yea, there is something bigger than the Self which I want to call the Composite Self.  Its recognition is all that is required to transcend any ill-perceived barrier.

Tonight we convene to introduce a new element to our music – namely the violining of the lovely Miss Amanda Shires, who will be joining us in the aforementioned sessions.  If you are not aware of her art-forms, I highly recommend that you call upon her at amandashires.net.  She is the author of her own periodical as well.

In these busiest of times, I have found it difficult to keep up with this journal.  I vow to do my very best to keep you apprised of our progress on this album which I consider to be by and for you in a greater degree than you might comprehend!  For today, it is my sincerest hope that the sun is shining upon you as it is me.

Yours truly,
Mister Hazelwood

I HAVE OBSERVED a recurring theme within the past fortnight.  Many a forlorn messenger has sought me to deliver a forecast of doom and gloom.  Typically, I would fain open the door for such a dubious personage, hell-bent on hell and afeared of fear.  However, in compliance to my visceral inclinations I interpreted these repeated occurrences as synchronistic events, not as omens per se’, but as suggestions of some sub-conscious pattern within my-self which is beckoning-to that of its likeness.  In seeking, I did find that trembling child in the corner of my mind who had naively considered this argument of the patriarchy that all is for naught and that there is no hope for posterity.  Once I was able to locate this lad, it was easy to convince him of the Truth, that all of life is on an evolutionary path – an upward spiral.  He was then free to continue on his High course. 

The Oldster is prone to a particular mis-calculation.  This world does not appear so benign to him as the world of his youth, imagining that it was the only possible reality which could have facilitated his plight.  Yea, this is erroneous even if I never did expose him as a romantic, painting a gloss veneer over the sordid aspects of his past.  Alas, we live in a better world than has ever existed!  I wonder if our venerable friend has ever considered that the ‘news’ is full of pitfalls and disasters because these things are rare?  Are there not a million acts of kindness for every malicious act?  Has he not noticed that slavery, domestic abuse, and other organized inhumane acts have all but ceased in our country in the past century.  It is true that there has also been a collapse of social decorum, but would he ignore the fact that it was driven by an oppression which has like-wise passed away.  Moreover, the author has cause to believe that the passive aggressive ‘moral code’ as defined by the hierarchy is gradually yielding to a more enlightened and civilized ‘personal decorum’ (evolving from political correctness) where free from certain social pressures, the individual is wont to consult his own set of guiding principles.  Ergo, there as never been true Liberty hitherto! 

Yea, the Old Man has nothing to fear in the way of posterity.  As is the life-aspiring process of evolution, each succeeding generation is ingrained with the wisdom to not only exist, but to thrive in the soil-bed from which it sprouted.  It is a grand time to be alive!

Forsooth!
Mr. Hazelwood

I received numerous telegraphs yesterday inquiring as to the success of our performance at the 5 Spot Thursday evening; too many, in fact, to respond singly.  Therefore, I will tell the tale now since we are all gathered here in one place.  Allow me to dim the lamp-light.

It was a chilly Thursday evening just like any other, yet it held the quintessence of spring – that unspoken enthusiasm which accompanies new life.  The New Transcendentalists and I had congregated in my chamber to rehearse for the evening’s event.  As we are engaged in a ceaseless course of experimentation, it was apparent that this night’s performance would have its own individual stamp.  Most notably, it would be the first live performance for us with the pump organ.  Mr. Wallace was playing this beast of an instrument, and conveniently it fit perfectly into his Volkswagen van.  I must admit that it did seem a bit mad to haul this 120 year old piece of beautiful antique furniture to such a dank establishment as the 5 Spot, but my curiosity to see and hear it in a public context overpowered my trepidations.  Just the visual of it sitting in Mr. W’s ‘vintage’ van provided a hilarious contrast!  We wrestled this imposing instrument through the rock-club’s façade and up to its temporary resting place on the stage where it caused everything in its modern surroundings to look like science-fiction.  Eventually, The New Transcendentalists joined it on-stage and balanced things out nicely.

We started the set with ambience, fading into As the Storm Rolls In.  It was a perfect example of how an image is characterized by its background.  My immediate impression was that our set was going to come off as strikingly down-tempo and moody in this setting.  In such a moment, there is a detrimental instinct to compensate for this contrast, but in awareness we stayed the course.  I have long been of the mind that the things which strike us as odd about a performance are the very things that are impressed into our minds.  We may perhaps be uncomfortable with these feelings at first but they will eventually draw us further in.  Those performances which are immediately recognizable will just as instantly be forgotten.  Therefore, I carry this logic into my own performances, surrendering any need for congruency.  When I have amused myself, I can honestly say that the performance was a success – and it was!  The New Transcendentalists performed …well, transcendently!  A talented fellow named Mr. Jamie Dick was sitting-in for Mr. P. on percussion.  His playing was wonderful as was that of the lovely Ms. D.  Add the swirling ambience of Mr. G. on lap steel combined with that of Mr. W. on pump organ and a dream like atmosphere was created.  Our set lasted the better part of an hour, easing along like the melding scenes of a reverie.  I was wholly satisfied.

For making this memorable evening possible, I extend my warmest appreciations to the staff of the 5 Spot, as well as Mr. Wallace who booked our appearance.  I am also grateful to each of The New Transcendentalists for the contribution of His/Her unique talents.  Moreover, I whole-heartedly thank those attentive handfuls of music-lovers who participated in the magic of the evening.  It was a truly pleasurable experience for me and I do hope it was for you!

Your friend,
Mr. H.