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.

My peak season for composition is the Autumn.  In those few enchanted months, I have systematically been able to harvest an abundant yield of the year’s ideas and emotions with ease, rendering as much material as I have time for.  The year leading up to this past writing-season held for me more learning-experience than any since my childhood.  Naturally, I manifested more music than ever before.  Yea, but this prolificacy is a double-edged sword!  Perhaps it is a relatively favorable conundrum, but I find it a daunting task to stand before a congregation of my brain-children and select those which are nearest and dearest to my heart, to be presented to the world as proper representatives of my Good purpose.  But, it must be done in order to compile a cohesive collection of material, each song effectively charged to conduct a steady creative stream of the highest potentiality.

My writing style ranges from the allegorical to the affirmative.  In either case however, the Law of Mind is at work.  When one comes to fully realize that his every thought and word is the benefactor of his experience, he becomes very decisive about his language.  Art is the effect, but it is also the cause!  The images that we labor over and give passion to (whether positive or negative) will eventually become woven into the tapestry of our daily experience.  Therefore, the question becomes – “which of these songs hold an intention that I would have echoed back to me”? 

I once heard a radio interview from around 1940 of Blues-legend Blind Willie McTell.  The interviewer condescendingly asked him “can you sing us a complainin’ song Willie?  You know, a blues song – a complainin’ song”!  Willie completely averted this allusion and insisted that he didn’t know any songs like that, but only ‘songs of salvation’.  I was thoroughly impressed by this clear distinction of intention!  Clearly, we can place Mr. McTell among those luminaries who have been privy to The Secret.

Scheduling conflicts have forced our recording dates into the first week of April, so there is exactly one month left for preparation.  As a result of the aformentioned analysis I will soon have a final list of songs which are to be included in those sanctified sessions, and I have all but settled on a title.  I leave you in heart-felt gratitude for your participation and support.  Just the fact that you would take the time to consistently read this journal has been the elemental fuel for my fire!

With the utmost sincerity,
Mister H.

THIS WEEK has been a testament to the fact that the Universe certainly IS a mirror for ones intention.  Immediately upon committing to the forward motion of an album project (up until now I have had but a toe in the water for fear of pecuniary failure), I had the distinct feeling that I had impelled a great wave into motion that can only build and build before crashing onto distant shores, permeating land and sky, and eventually raining my Good back down upon me.  Miraculously, all of the doors and windows are opening around me and I have only to follow gentle breezes into wide-open spaces where it is possible that I may be rained-upon.  There are more developments, kind reader, than I would impose upon you for the moment.  But, allow me to expel some highlights.

This morning, I met at Crema – a downtown coffee-shop – with a gentleman named Mr. Jace Freeman, a videographer and photographer whose works I have been fervently impressed-by.  The meeting was to discuss plans for a music video for The Grey House, wherein Mr. Freeman detailed his vision articulately.  Very little conversation was necessary to know that we were of like mind, which strengthened my faith that the song would be well-served.  Moreover,  my gratitude for this man’s reciprocated interest in my art was intensified!  We formulated some basic ideas and made a tentative plan to begin filming in April.  I will keep you enlightened as to the details of this endeavor as they become known to me.

Another important announcement is a live performance by myself and the New Transcendentalists at The 5 Spot in East Nashville exactly one week from today – Thursday, March Fourth.  Also on the bill is Mr. James Wallace, for whom I will be performing the duties of antiquarian percussionist (James will also be a part of our ensemble), and The Orange Opera from Fort Wayne, Indiana.  The show is scheduled to begin at Nine O’clock.  We do hope you will join us and share in the excitement these influential days leading up to a snap-shot from their pinnacle.

Working tirelessly,
Mr. J.S. H.

In my time with Ode Hazelwood, and as a result of our excursions I had compiled a comprehensive list of names and electronic addresses of receptive fans from all over the world. Many of them hailed from mysterious far-away countries across Europe and Asia which I have only visited through a wire and in my dreams. It has been a wondrous experience to package-up a CD and place it in the post in remittance to some far-away and seemingly far-fetched destination. It is liken-to sealing a part of one’s spirit into an envelope to be opened in Arcadia, where it will fly-out, and mix-and-mingle with those of its recognition. There is no way to know how one’s art will be perceived in a place of vastly different culture. To me, it is a testament to Unity that a Scandinavian countryman, for example, would manage to meet with music to his liking on the opposite side of the globe, and decide that it is better than his money. It is this phenomenon which gives me an intrepid faith to carry-on with my life’s work, and drives me to create works which are of intrinsic value.

Yesterday, I transmitted a message to this aforementioned list of old acquaintances who originally found their way to me by synchronicity. And, the results were astounding! There is evidence that the number of daily visitors to this periodical reached its all-time zenith. Furthermore, I received an abundance of kind words and well-wishes in response. I am unspeakably flattered and humbled by this out-pouring of support. I extend my undying gratitude to every corner of the globe, where resides a living soul of common mind and heart with my very own.

Namaste’,
Mr. Joseph Hazelwood

I must make a confession.  In my recent testimony of solitude, I did make some slight factual omissions for the purpose of literary aesthetic.  In truth, there was a hootenanny of sorts that took place within these walls only two nights ago.  Its participants were the members of the ensemble James Wallace and the Naked Light – a fine band of fellows with whom I have been contributing my skills as percussionist.  Mr. Wallace himself is someone I consider a kindred soul, possessing an uncommonly inventive mind and a singular capacity for weaving abstract concepts together with his quirky sense of humor.  I highly recommend splurging to acquire his debut album entitled I Smile All Day I Smile All Night.  Upon hearing it the first time, I could not help but remark that this is a delightfully odd fellow, with an unusually busy mind – not unlike myself.  One can almost hear the squeaking of a hamster-wheel in the quiet moments of his music – the sound of cerebral unrest, accompanied by heightened pulmonary rhythm.  Ergo, when Mr. W. invited me to lend my services as antiquarian percussionist, I was naturally as excited as a rabid fan being selected from the front row. 

For a number of years I have passively sought-out an appropriate situation for my percussive aesthetic.  To generalize my concept, it is to use various antique instruments in my collection as well as other time-worn objects not-intended for musical facility, to stir-up emotions which have lay dormant in the human heart for nigh a century.  I have long-hypothesized there are no ‘good’ sounds or ‘bad’ sounds, but only those which serve to conjure one’s intended emotion.  In Hamlet, Shakespeare wrote “There is nothing either good or bad – but thinking makes it so”.  Mainstream modern music seems to have agreed-upon a grossly-limited palate of generally accepted ‘good’ sounds.  i.e.  Red, Blue, Yellow, and Green – as in the most basic box of crayons.  But when some ‘visionary’ introduces an orange or a purple, it is avant-garde in comparison.  Hark!  What about the infinite shades of blue in the sky?  Yea, every blade of grass is in proud-display of its own unique hue of green!  I believe that the American Idolists would reduce us to a nation of apathetes, streamlining our emotions to be counted on the fingers of the bank-teller!  But alas, we are sentient beings, with emotional complexities far beyond the comprehension of the analyst.

In awareness that the continuance of this rant could serve no Good, I return to my originally-intended purpose of gratitude and respect-for the creative works of Mister James Wallace – who in following his vision (not necessarily in the spirit of contempt) is helping to stretch the limits of the status-quo.  There are plans currently underway for a split-bill to include J.W. and band (myself on percussion), Mr. H. (Mr.W on pump organ), and perhaps a mystery guest performer.  I will alert you of the details of this event as-soon-as they are known to me.

Between The Blue
and The Green,
There Lies the Good-
Mr. Hazelwood

It is another frost-bitten week here at the Hazelwood Estate.  A fresh coating of snow has fallen – covering any tracks which would-be evidence of persons traversing the span betwixt this magnificent old manse and its great iron gates. Concurrently, the comings-and-goings of travelers and other guests have long-subsided so that those occasions have been reduced to the status of dreams.  They occupy the same place in my mind with mid-night hauntings or slumbering delusions of such, whichever may be the case.  And still here I am, no-less a member of the human race and therefore connected to that which I cannot see.  Yet, it is this dichotomy of connectedness and autonomy which I must keep in balance so that I may continue to labor in faith that my highest purpose is being served.

It is my intention to emerge from this sustained period of isolation and introspection with a catalogue of music which has at long-last been pressed into product.  At length, this music has been closed-up in the heat of my head so that it is like a delicacy in danger of sitting in the oven too long.  In fact, I have been guilty of burning up my own sustenance on more occasions than I would like to admit.  These words and melodies are prone to run their course in my mind – tiring themselves out and taking an early-retirement.  But this has, on the up-side, contributed to my proliferation as a songwriter.  With the willingness to dispose of those creations which are no longer serving me, a vacuum is created into which something more useful might flow – greater works are rendered!  This has also been a fine test as to the timelessness of each song.  It has been nearly two years since I penned The Grey House, and having plunged into its depths – breaking it apart piece-by-piece, I still feel that I might never solve its riddle.  It fascinates me to-no-end. 

And so it is in blind faith that I occupy these corridors, performing songs into a recording mechanism, and seemingly to no-one.  Assuredly, the elusive entity of time has marked these days as Sanctified and the full magnitude of their splendor will be apparent long after they have drifted off into the ether – I having documented them in song.

Until our next encounter,
Mister Hazelwood

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
in one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?–

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1820

Since I was a child I’ve had an inescapable propensity to trace everything to its origin. Whether it was ideas, problems, words, or reality itself; I had a gnawing suspicion that nothing is about what it seems to be about, that there is an underlying cause to everything.  I absolutely cannot eat my break-fast without thinking of the farmer who gathered the eggs and the chicken who bore them, the delivery driver who carried them to market and the store clerk who stocked the shelves with them.  On a day when I am particularly busy-minded, I’ll be thinking about the egg itself and the miracle that it is.  Ah, the incredible edible egg…  I cannot write a word without attempting to deconstruct its meaning as I did earlier with the word ‘break-fast’.  Moreover, I cannot listen to any music without tracing it to the root from whence it was derived.

All modern music has roots which can be traced back to the early twentieth century.  This is because it was the epoch of audio recording technology.  Any music before that was passed along in live performance or written score.  When the record album was born, we were able to listen repeatedly to a selection and perhaps even play our instrument right along with it.  It is a strange phenomenon to hear the exact same performance more than once!  When we physically re-perform a song, it is apt to come off a little different each time.  Therefore, various subtle aspects of a performance, which were never intended to be highlighted, began to stand-out in repeated listening.  As time passed, the succeeding musicians had a tendency to exaggerate these nuances in attempt to repeat the effect of some ‘ideal performance’ that was impressed into their minds by hours and hours of repeated listening.  The next generation would then interpret what they were hearing out of context, having no knowledge of the intentions of the original artist.  I liken it to the process of recording music from one cassette tape to another.  Each time you copy the tape, its quality is degraded.  In repeating this transference, you will eventually be unable to discern what the songster was trying to convey.  Therefore, it is this thinker’s good opinion that since about the 1920’s the heart and soul has been linearly dubbed-out of modern music. 

But wait!  Please do not take me out of context.  I do not suggest that everyone should go around listening to The Mississippi Sheiks (although I cannot help but think everyone could benefit from it in some way).  But rather, I say make music that is not reactionary!  Let the vicissitudes of life flow through your heart and mind – filling up every chamber of your being and overflowing into your art!  This is what those original recording-artists were doing!!  And, there have in my opinion been a number of music artists in the past one-hundred years who have also done this; but they are relatively few.  Yet, this doesn’t mean that it is hard to do!  In fact it is an essential part of our very nature, which we often struggle in defiance of.  Neither do I believe this only applies to music.  Nay, it is applicable to every course in life!  There is a race-mind of thought that wants to homogenize every worthwhile pursuit.  But in truth, there are as many ways to do a thing as there are people to do it!  I say that when what you experience differs from what you have been told – trust the experience.  Go down deep within your-self and excavate the Truth which has been lingering there throughout the Millennia.  This is the only Truth which shall set you free.

Mister J.S. Hazelwood

Following a short luncheon with a colleague at a nearby eating-establishment, I returned to my abode where I would remain for the rest of the day and night.  The afternoon was devoured as I labored away at the chalk-board on a formula which has perpetually perplexed me.  As I simply cannot disregard a paradox, history will either prove me a genius or an inexorably obstinate ignoramus.  I scribbled and paced well into the evening only stopping when Ulysses was audacious enough to enter the room to alert me that it was time for my favourite television program The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

To answer your two questions: yes, I do have a television; and yes, I do watch it on rare occasion, but only those presentations which might expand my mind rather than to subdue it.  This program of which I speak is a beautifully-rendered production of Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories which have been airing every Saturday evening on public television.  The episodes were filmed between 1984 and 1994 and featured an actor named Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes.  In my estimation he was a brilliant artist.  I have read that he spent those years obsessing over the role, becoming Sherlock Holmes to such an extent that he carried the eccentricities and neuroses of his character into daily life, suffering from manic depression and dying of heart failure in 1985.  He is absolutely the star of the program, portraying Holmes’ erratic mannerisms and oratorical cunning with artistry.  As you surely know by now, I am enamored by the inventive use of language; but I am doubly impressed by those who exhibit a gift-for-gab.  Ergo, this program is something I am fervently drawn-to, and so I scarcely miss an episode. 

It has recently come to my attention that there is a new box-office film entitled Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Jr. portraying the good detective.  However, in viewing the trailer I was disenchanted to say the least!  It seems no more than another ‘cute’ Hollywood action/comedy, characters and plot being interchangeable with of Pirates of Caribbean.  We are not fools – give us substance!  Have you noticed that in this modern-era cartoons are written for adults and feature-films for children?  Just an observation..  That is all. 

Good day!
Mister Hazelwood