The riderless family tree has branches anew.
Sung High Mast (2013)
We’ve finished our latest album – one that trickily puzzled us and kept us afloat. Whether it was the welcoming of Ryan’s new baby boy, James, or Ian finding his spontaneous self all the way west and now back again, this catalogue of surreal moods and photographic-like memories was a glue. Life is life in totality, sure – and we’ve clearly balanced our boats on that river’s banks, and while the scenery was changing both figuratively and literally (as newborns and new travels and new visions can intensely illuminate) this tangled, prickly collection of our wooden electricity announced us at its’ seated-table. We kept revisiting, breaking out the chisels and too-heady snarled constructivism. That is to say, it took shape in quicksand – maybe like an object melting outside – but uncovering the ghost-image within. The one we’re after. Fear: it isn’t there. Sometimes it takes time.
Truthfully, we weren’t sure what we had (or present-day do have) – time tocks and has an uncanny way of disrupting flow. The rust was starting to accumulate and the gigs were straddling the mirage-real line. Band as finite. That infinity of our youth was narrowing, parallel lines now emerged as one, pointing to some end. The inverse of riding the rails. Braking. Always in theory, though. Action can be haiku-sensitive or Pynchon-long. You partner with one once born. The middle-period time, the irrelevance and over-enthusiastic zone-locking is forever behind-the-curtain. It was a challenge, much more than ever before – maybe our aging cynicism now clouds our wonder, or maybe our shit-detectors powered up while the narrative caught stride, who knows, but it was living throughout. It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t ship nor receive itself. Life brings it back to life.
Now there is only one way: heads first, guesses second.
So here we are, short-story-long, controlling the mirror.
In hopes that this writing doesn’t sway you from your original order, we sincerely appreciate you listening. Listen in.