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 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.

Your humble servant,
Mr. H.

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

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

Come in, come in!  My valet will take your coat and hat.  I received the note that you were going to call and I have been eagerly anticipating our visit.  Can I offer you some tea….or some coffee perhaps?  I got into the habit of drinking the stuff during a recent sojourn in Paris.  Please!, take a seat. 

You may have noticed that I have some music broadcasting  from the parlor.  These new contrivances are a thing of wonder!  I picked up this device at last year’s World’s Fair.  It can play records without any cranking whatsoever! And to my astonishment, it can flip the record on its very own as well!  Edison has really outdone himself this time.  I shall have to call and congratulate him.  I shall have to call Alex Bell too!

You may be suprised to know that the music you are hearing is none other than my own.  Yes, that is a large portrait of me on the wall as well.  I am, no doubt, a man uncommonly fond of himself.  But let me assure you, there is more than vanity at play here.  My dear friend, there is a method to my madness!  What you are hearing is a sound-recording of a recent rehearsal for the making of my up-coming release.  It is a coarse rendition of what is to come. In expectation of your arrival I purposely started the record as to gauge your response.  You are aware that I am a bachelor and that I spend countless hours with none other than my own company.  Furthermore, an antiquary such as myself can have no clue as to the vogue of the day.  You, my friend, have superior taste and would do me a great service by imparting your honest opinion of these rough sketches of a would-be self-portrait.  How do they strike you then? Go on….   [ Listen ]

Why Hello,

I have just sat through the most energizing morning shower – an out-pouring of the essential stuff of life. The multitude of droplets upon the gables of this old manor created a powerful and sustained roar throughout its shadowed halls. From my writing desk I can see through a nearby pane that the rain has quit at last. Now, a calm of the same magnitude has settled in as to not be ignored. This proverbial ‘calm after the storm’, seems to me an ‘Amen’ or as we say in Religious Science ‘and so it is’, affirming that the world has been made new for us to go about this business of creating and re-creating ourselves.

“More servants wait on man
Than he’ll take notice of”

During the deluge, I sat in a moment of reverence at my newly-acquired pump organ. It is an Estey, built in Brattleboro, Vermont around 1892; among the finest of these instruments ever built. It is something which I have been seeking (and which, no doubt, has been seeking me) for many years. Because of their age it is rare to find one in tune and in good working order. This one is completely intact, in standard tuning and in tune with itself! To sit on its stool, pump the bellows with my feet, and play music on this magnificent contraption without the aid of electricity is thrilling to my sensibilities, not to mention that it is a lovely piece of antique furniture. But, to quote Shakespeare…”The play is the thing”. This instrument has a sound like the breath of the Gods! Already having recorded it as accompaniment on one of my compositions, it adds a texture which far surpassed my every expectation. It is a sound which has scarcely been heard by human ears in over a century.

At length, the ensuing calm has pervaded the interior of my home as well as the interior of my self. I can now go about the business of making music. Perhaps I will begin my day’s work on this beloved new instrument…

Full of hot air,
Mr. H

It is a frigid night here in the old manse. I and my armchair have danced one another across the length of the study to draw in closer to the fire. At this proximity I am now and again singed by an escaping ember, but otherwise I am quite content with my situation. Hypnotized by the elegant choreography of the flames and the burning question “what is fire?”, I meanwhile have one of my compositions running its verses and choruses in a circle throughout the entirety of my consciousness. It is a philosophical piece entitled Live Forever which I penned around this time last year. I having discounted it many months ago, it has recently resurfaced in the odd way that songs often want to do. In this case, it is perhaps because the emotions from which it was born are systematically evoked by Old Man Winter. Nonetheless, it has in the past few days been the object of my fancy.

Yesterday morning I arose in particularly high spirits. It had been my intention, prior, to make of it a ‘recording day’ and so I did. I drew the curtains and silenced the telephone, sealing my intention to be undisturbed and beginning right away with Live Forever. It is important to note, by the way, that this session was part of the pre-production process for the making of my upcoming release. Since I am working mostly alone, it is a crucial step in the process because it allows me to experiment with various arrangements, production techniques, and nuances in performance; giving me the ability to listen-back with objectivity. In the way that the audio recording of one’s speaking voice can vary in timbre from the way one hears it in his own head, so is there often a great dissimilarity between the recorded and imagined versions of a song. In my experience, it can be quite humbling or even disheartening to be confronted by this divergence. With persistence, however, I have found that it is a gap which eventually can close through a combination of will and acceptance. I know that I am not prepared to move forward on the final rendition of a song until this does happen. Yesterday with Live Forever, to recklessly mis-quote Maslow, this ‘peak experience’ did finally occur.

I began by strategically placing microphones throughout my great room so as to capture not only my instrument and voice but also the characteristic ambience of this hallowed place. I sat in a chair and performed in a manner dictated by my mood (I have found it futile to attempt to do otherwise). What resulted was a solid solo performance of the tune, not magical necessarily, but acceptable for my purposes. Previously I had set up one of my antique drum kits in anticipation of this session, and so I shifted straight to the mind-set of percussionist. This was the part which was at the center of this experiment. Could I actualize the rhythmic element of my mental sound-image? When I began to play, it was apparent to me (both on and off wax) that I was badly out of practice. I spent the next hour or so devising a part and rehearsing. When I was ready I continued with the awkward and seemingly unnatural process of playing music with myself. In preservation of that topic for some future Journal entry, I will move on by saying it was a success! After a lengthy process of trial and error, I rendered a part that was very much to my liking. The essence of this song which had spent the better part of a year lodged in some shadowy nook within my mind was now coming into light. Dear God!….IT’S ALIVE! I wasn’t crazy all along…..!

In conclusion, I have assimilated enough data to move forward on the mass-production of this invention. It fills the basic criteria of a worthwhile product in that it a) is something entirely new b) satisfies a basic need c) is for the common good of mankind d) rocks. Now on to the next experiment: Does sleep actually obviate delusions?

Mister H