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.
In light of the prior week-end’s musical discoveries and with a giant leap of pecuniary faith, I have decided to abruptly alter the course of our recording project. The New Transcendentalists have elicited the assistance of an alchemist named Mr. Joe McMahan. It is he who produced my previous release Radio Noise, as well as recordings by Kevin Gordon, Jennifer Niceley, Mike Farris, The Altered Statesmen, Peter Bradley Adams, Claire Small, Joe and Vicki Price, and countless others. He has also contributed to up-coming releases by Kurt Wagner of Lambchop and a highly-anticipated new Kevin Gordon record. We have set a tentative date in March to record at a world-class facility in Nashville named The House of David.
The rendition of As the Storm Rolls In that you’re hearing is a selection from our recent pre-production session. As is the nature of experimentation, it is not without flaws, but I believe it to also contain moments of magic which can only occur from the synergy created by the interplay of inspired individuals. In comparison, the sound of compounding individual performances has produced lack-luster results. We must set-out to catch lightning in a bottle – capture the magic of the eternal moment! I hope you enjoy this fleeting moment of creative process. It is sure to become even more saturated with the spirit of Unity.
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.
I would like to dedicate to-day’s entry to my closest companion – the one with whom I share my home and my affections – who goes by the name of Ms. Bessie ‘Sniff’, the Bassett Hound. This dog (I am reticent to call her a dog) fills such an enormous space in my existence that I hardly know where to begin. She is the most loyal, loving, and loveable companion that I have ever known – not without comparison to anyone of the human race, but I consider her a person like any other. She certainly has as much personality as any person! Moreover, Bessie and I have more mutual understanding and respect than I have ever experienced in an interpersonal relationship. I don’t mean to imply cynicism with these assertions, but to illustrate the degree to which Bessie has captured my sentiments.
We rise together every morning. Bessie is more reliable than any alarm clock. At 5:01 every morning she springs her forelegs up onto my bedside to alert me that our day is to begin. My very first action is to prepare her break-fast. Only then do I proceed with my own rituals. If I am home throughout the day, Bessie is surely by my side except when she takes an independent notion to search the backyard for fresh curiosities. Through the window at my desk I can often see her on the grounds, carefully examining every inch with her unusually powerful snoot. What wonders she could be discerning with this profound faculty for smell I might never know! Scent would seem to be her dominating connection to the physical world as sight is ours. However, there is no question in my mind that she has a powerful sixth sense as well. She has a singular capacity for intuiting my moods and acting accordingly. I have in turn developed an ability to anticipate her needs. I find this to be a more effective form of communication than speech in any language! I believe it is the very thing that makes such a bond possible. Dogs are no more inherently ‘good’ than humans, as some would suggest. No! We simply TALK TOO MUCH. And when we have done so, we talk a little more in attempt to rectify our errors in communication. Yea, we only dig the hole deeper, and our innocent intentions are buried under a mass of conflicting words! I will admit – I do talk to Bessie, but rarely does she talk back. What a wise creature!
At dusk we often go for a walk together, I examining the beauty of the landscape with my eyes and her with her nose. As we are equally eager to do this every evening, I am sure that we possess the same ardor for nature, the night air, and walking leisurely in reverence of another day well-lived, whether it be at the writing-desk or sniffing away at the back-yard. In return to the Manse, we retire to our respective beds in unvocal appreciation for one-another and drift off, presumably to the same heaven of dreams…
Your presence at Tuesday night’s event was a pure act of generosity. To veer out from the Family Wash stage at countless friends and fans who braving the elements, came in selfless support of my work, was a true delight. As I am completely guided from within, I can never know tangibly if a single personage will find even a kernel of recognition in anything that I have to express. It is only at times like this that I am sure that I have not labored in vain. Although I do strive to be self-reliant, I do not make music for my-self. It is for the collective self – my soul’s counterpoint in another. Your attendance and receptivity to my art is an acknowledgement that I have, metaphorically speaking, struck a chord. By this phenomenon I am most humbled and grateful.
There was an enchanted quintessence about the room that night, exuding no-doubt from the positive and enthusiastic multitude. I took the stage with an orchestra of uniquely-talented instrumentalists who had never once shared the stage before. Yet, we had not gotten far into the first selection before I realized that there was something very special about this assemblage of creative minds. The juxtaposition of the solid basis of drums and upright bass with the free-flowing ambience of lap-steel, harmonica, and organ made for a music that was simultaneously organic and surreal. It was as the songs had an earthly body and an astral body. Ergo, I found myself perfectly suspended between these two realms and was able to deliver my own performance in a manner transcending all others. Just upon our quitting, Cole Slivka, the host of the night remarked “I felt like I was transported to another world for thirty minutes”. Producer extraordinaire Joe McMahan articulated the sound as “John Fahey meets Time Out of Mind”. I myself could not have been happier with the renderings. I am inexpressibly appreciative to my band-mates and the entire Family Wash family. It was an epic event.
It is hard to believe that winter is taking its final turn. I was so enkindled by the romance of those autumnal days and nights that I have spent much of this current season in an idyllic trance. It would seem hasty to utter the word spring, as just beyond my window lay a picturesque winter scene. Yet, the almanac does not mind to controvert this. I am in eager anticipation of those first blooms of the Dogwood. It is not because I have an aversion for winter. In fact I get particular warmth from the chill. But I must say I am ready to come alive again! There is a part of me that wants to hibernate for these few frigid months. My creative impulses are idle – hastened by the first frost just as the many blades of grass. But come sun and rain; alongside the roses in my garden will grow my thoughts, wildly. They are liken-to burst forth in a surge of creation, forcing me to manage them lest they choke out one-another! I am ready for this busy work – to finally see what has been at long rest under the soil, and to cultivate it into existence. But as for to-day, I return to introspection.
I woke this morning particularly comfortable and warm. As I regained my coherency, it became apparent that Pandora, my chamber maid, had taken the liberty of rekindling the fire, filling the bed-warmer with coals, and sliding it betwixt the blankets just next to my feet so discreetly that I was never disturbed. Yet, I can hear her plainly in the adjacent room – aggressively laboring over woodwork and linen while singing the ancient hymn Of the Father’s Heart Begotten in Latin…♫
“Corde natus ex parentis
Ante mundi exordium
A et O cognominatus,
ipse fons et clausula
Omnium quae sunt, fuerunt,
quaeque post futura sunt.
Saeculorum saeculis”
I must have been in a dead slumber. I can recall no dreams which might have diverted my attention from the world of the living. Yet I was gone, presumably to some place of unspeakable wonder or I surely would have remained. Likewise, I must have returned because I find this world equally fascinating. Though I can conceive of no alternative in my current state of consciousness, I must confess that this world appears a playground to me. As I pull aside the window-veil and look down upon a snow-covered ground, I am filled with a vaguely familiar zeal of adolescence. My heart is warmed by the permafrost, as I contemplate what to do – or not to do with this day. Should I venture out into the street and consort with my fellow townsmen who are already engaged there in a bout of merrymaking? Or, should I retain this perspective of the witness for some creative endeavor? I shall decide after I have breakfasted….
I know not how or to what end you have come to be reading my words, but it is among my philosophies that there is no coincidence. In submitting each entry, I have had a grand knowing that it would find its own way to those receptive souls who revel in this brand of non-sensory (nonsense-ory) perception, or as Poe once criticized “obscurity for obscurity’s sake and mysticism for mysticism’s sake”. I have collected data that would suggest that growing numbers of curious persons on every corner of the globe are regularly indulging in this periodical, and to me it is a thrilling prospect! It has confirmed my suspicions that I am a man uncommonly witty and wise. I extend my sincerest appreciation to my loyal readers and my warmest welcome to all of you who are just arriving. May you never take me (or life) seriously!
