Angela, Partners With The Dead

She held to her heart
the image of man
some wicked as you
might reach for her hand,
she ran to the door
past the pistol he held
fell to the floor
as the smoke would dispel

Angela is about the power of collaboration. I remember Abe brought me some chords and a melody he had written. I put words to it. I was wanting for a story and found inspiration in a Keats poem -The Eve. Of St. Agnes, which I highly recommend reading. It's a strange and creepy poem and ever since I first read it, it's stuck with me.

O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom
Which none but secret sisterhood may see,
"When they St Agnes' wool are weaving piously."

    St Agnes! Ah! it is St Agnes' Eve---
Yet men will murder upon holy days:

Apart from giving me the title character name, it also gave me the idea for a mystery plot line. The song is sung from the prospective of a detective. Except for the beginning of the second verse -It is impossible to know that unless you are me, but that was always my little joke to myself- Then returns to the detective in order to finish out the unanswered but fatal question.

- good Angela,
believe not my tears
just trust my smile
I'll keep young your years -
good Angela,
why did he laugh?
to understand this
to figure out that...


Keats has always been a big inspiration for me. I've always had a huge romantic streak in me and he is probably the reason. It doesn't make sense why a kid from Texas born in the late 1980's would be so interested in his work, or Chaucer's for that matter, but some things just click.

In the same way music from the 60's spoke to me. If you ever wondered why we are so into 60's music. It's not from nostalgia, I never experienced it and from what I can imagine I don't think I would want. It's not from my parents, who really grew up more in the 70's and who always liked country-western a little bit better.

The music just hooked me somehow. My mind synchronized to that sound, that style, and those words. It's as if I found or discover something that I knew to exist all along but never saw, heard, or read before till that moment.

The background vocals are pure Dr. Dog. Thanks Frank and Scott for all the hard work you gave to four kids you barely knew, you guys are awesome. Also of note, Jaime is a great guitar player in his own right. I should've mentioned this on other songs, Officer and Little Girl for instance, where Jaime wrote the Harrison-esque solos, but he is just a madman with inventive melody. This is another one of his solos, though I think Dante added some country flourish to it. In the original demo we made, there is the sound of a gun going off right after the first verse and before the solo. We had recorded it using a cap gun, which sounds really funny when you first record it, blew up the sound and ran it through reverbs turning it from a pop to a BOOM! Unfortunately we weren't able to recreate this, time and such, at Dan's place.

The music is the way I write, because it's the only way I know how to write. The way I choose words is because of the way I think. I'm not sure if I could change it if I wanted to, or if I would ever want to change. Though I am always trying to evolve. Every record we make is part of a living evolution. And now, as I try to write new material, I can feel us evolving even further. Just yesterday I feel we took a big leap.

Any artist should not dwell in past works, but stand on them, and see the world a little clearer from it. If you must, tear it down first -refer to Savage, but never try to just recreate what's already done. There are new places to go. New ways to work. Imagination feels in-exhaustive right now.

Writing gives me a true freedom unlike any other. It is a strength, but it doesn't have to stand alone. There is inspiration from the people around, and the past. Make the greats your co-conspirators. Make partners of the dead and long lasting. Be a thought collector, and a trap for times of love and pain.

To ever end days

in quiet hours, typing

the measures of thoughts,

My heart's last dream.

Finished symphonies

brass words and wind stories

unforgotten.

-rene



image source: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WK_PvmlBAP8/T4Rh9oDI0tI/AAAAAAAAAIE/0P2qElLkArc/s400/StAgnes-ArthurHughes.jpg

Degree of Murder, Nothing Known, Nothing Certain

Woman don'tcha know what you do?
you just sold me out, left there no doubt
of what I should do.



A plaintive cry. The weight of injustice in the greyness of Truth. Degree of Murder is a heavy song. Though not one that draws a lot of attention to itself. It is like the quiet kid in the back of the class with a dark story. Avoiding the spotlight. Keeping to itself. While others talk and make themselves known trying to interesting, this one easily is the most interesting.

Woman wicked and cruel
your kind evil lips, strange words you do hiss
in the ears of a fool

Pistol, sticks to my hand
a deafening cry, your tears shine delight
cause they can't prove it's you
 
Sometimes Truth seems so concrete. So certain. He is there. Pistol in hand. Smoke rising from the barrel. The body beneath him, still warm. Truth is clear. The hand that pulls the trigger is guilty. But it seems that the moment the event happens. Everything becomes much more convoluted. The solidness of the past on which we have built ourselves with certainty becomes flimsy. Becomes hazy.  I'm not sure if I remember last week clearly.  Is he working alone? What were the motivations? The intentions? What was the victim doing there? Is it murder? Self-defense?

Degree of Murder has a slowness. The story is reveals , with no sense of urgency. The droning church organ. The watery guitar. The country bass line, all moving together in pace. The song is played very tightly, I'm proud of that. I remember approaching Dan with the idea for the harmonica solo. He asked me to play it for him first. I did. I think he laughed at me, cause without the music the solo sounds like random chaos. But he indulged us, and I recorded it. Afterwards I think it fit in really nicely.

That is why I chose to write about a murder. By now you might see why this appeals to me. Not for the murder itself. - Which I find detestable. I feel regret even when I step on a bug. - But for the questions that inherently live around it. It's probably also why I am so drawn to a good crime drama.

Woman what have I done
I took with my hand the life of your man
for a moment with you


Explanations. Theories. Reasons. Of all kinds and types can explain what we do. It was a past trauma. It was genetics. It was evil. It was justified. They can all be thrown in. They all separate the act from the actor. They create a boundary of what we perceive happens, from what happens.

Often we hear of two-sides to every story. But as I have been writing I've learned that is not accurate. There are as many sides to a story as there are minds to view it. Every person takes in the event, experiences it in their own way. Some of them do overlap, and would seem to be one consistent perspective, but each truth is tinted with its own personalities and histories. Every character, every person has a unique understanding of what the truth is. And as it grows, and as more people try to understand, the truth becomes less and less clear. And what is a simple act becomes much and more.

If one thing has kept me sane through this path of being a musician, Which is filled with a lot of craziness - fair warning if ever any of you decide to try, It has been my understanding of this: Nothing is known. Nothing is certain. My Truth is for me alone, and others may never completely understand it. Words try to help us convey what we know. But words will fail us. And most of the time they do. So I try to chose mine carefully.

the black moth bore no ire

belonged to none but fire

follow me, follow me in
the fire, the moth, the touch,  a twin



-rene

image source: http://www.doctormacro.com/Images/Film%20Noir%20Posters/Film%20Noir%20Poster%20-%20Apology%20for%20Murder_01.jpg

Little Girl, A Full Heart

Little girl, your tongue turned black when you spat at the world.
Little girl, you drifted away. Long after the music started to stray away...


There is a slight difference between a song that tells a story and a song that is a story. A musical. The kind in movies and Broadway. Maybe it's the difference between being the character and the narrator. Or perhaps its having several characters in one segment? Where the music is enhancing not only the overall story but also personalities of the characters. Whatever it is. There is a difference.



Little Girl, for all purposes, is a song from a musical that never existed. An attempt to portray characters as themselves. Though not completely. I didn't want it to be too over the top. Less actual Broadway, more the impression of. I don't think it would do to have an actual musical number. There is a fine line. Some great songs have come out of musicals, but few stand on their own as something I would dig on a record. Most need the context of the full story.

You think it's better lonely, isn't that what you told me?
You want to make your money. You better think of me only


The main key keeping this song falling in to full chorus-line being I narrate about the Little Girl character, rather than her singing her own part. Without the visuals the story is more ambiguous. So we had to set mood with music. That is the main reason for the dramatic shifts in style that move through the song.

There is the main section about the girl. Running away from her problems. And a violent antagonist who's holding her back.  Who is the character of the bridge played by Abe. - Who did a great job getting in a villainous character voice. - This is set by the walking bass line, the rolling piano rhythm, and the high-hat hit. Then for the bridge, the music gets a lot more aggressive. Everyone playing on the same pulsing attacking beat. This is the villain theme.

Then there is a dance interlude. Imagined to be her deciding on what to do with her life. I pictured a dancer moving back and forth across the stage. In throws of confusion. Her choice to stay captive to her past. Or venture to the future. It felt like a classic musical storyline.

The bossa-nova break is actually tricky to get. The time switch. The feel change. It all depends on how the drummer can handle it. I loved the octave piano solo Abe does. My bass work was really fun. Scaling up and down. Writing a McCartney-esque  melody. Check out a live version from Hear Ya:

Finally it ends in the solo. Which is the culmination of the parts. The moment she decides. I felt it was important to leave it up in the air. I like the idea of not-knowing what the future is.

Little girl, you're a flat back woman with no where to turn
Little girl, take a chance make a run, you better hide from the gun

I always wanted to give writing this kinda piece a shot. It was an itch I had to scratch. One I'm proud of. A real fine moment on the record too. I think the idea might sound too lame for some. But songwriting has to be fearless. Regardless of what others might say or think, ideas should be explored. With a full heart. Unashamed. It would be impossible to work with fear of rejection. Not that it doesn't cross my mind, I just don't give in. Be bold. Be daring. Most important, Try something new.

her face, like I had never seen before

beamed into the dark. a song, cutting

the corners of our hearts. with a collective gasp

of an audience unaware of her art. of stripping us,

cleaving off and discarding our worst parts,

leaving their seats lighter than at the start.

-rene


image source: http://www.cinemaretro.com/uploads/cyd.jpg

Another Day, The Lull Of Having

Another day, another night
The moon's clear but too high to reach
As I lay in the dark
I wonder where it is you are
 Another day, another night

I've always been a fan of taking the mundane and trying to make it more. On first glance it seems there is not much to Another Day. An honest criticism, but it's hard to fault a piece for it's subject. Like disliking someone for simply being a person. I wanted to use an average day, maybe that is a boring idea to some. To me it was an opportunity to express something different. Something honest.

Another night, one more day
She'll be home to stay
But for now, just for now
It's seems too far from me
Another night, another day

Pop music lives in a hyper reality. Flushing out the real drama in life. That is why it is so easy to write about falling in and out of love, losing relationships, death, social issue. High drama is blood for inspiration.

This was my first bass-solo. I remember how exciting it was to be able to take the lead of the song. It's a different feeling to be standing out. When you are in the rhythm there is a lot to blend into. It's easy to hide in the background. But the solo stands on top. It demands the spotlight. I used a vintage Fender Bass VI with flat wound strings, and came up with the lick. The song is about space, and tension. I tried to push that in the solo. Also another great background arrangement.

I remember when the idea came. A lazy weekend. Cleared cause I was expecting my girl back home from a semester abroad. It had been so long since we had seen each other. I was supposed to go over during a holiday break, but I wasn't able to raise the money. And skype/camera phones weren't what they are. So many blurry shots, and dropped calls later, we had finally made it through.



 And I was waiting, with nothing to do. I cleaned. I watched the walls. I walked. Then I got an email: Her home coming was even further delayed by weather. It was going to be another day or two before she came home.

Sweep the floor of gathered leaves
And things that I once believed
Wave goodbye with the sigh
As they float away from me
 Another night, another day

I spent the rest of the weekend waiting. I read. I was into  -and still am- haikus. There is an ingenious spark I found there. What makes them easily dismissible is also their strongest attribute. The simplicity. The boldness of being direct. It is the poetry of life. The simpler it is written. The more the reader can project into it. The trouble is giving them enough to want to project into the lines. And though I didn't use the 5-7-5, I did find inspiration in the brevity.

So I wrote a story, not about the details of the relationship- but the pain of the in-between. The pause. The rest. The lull of having and not being able to have. There is importance and symbolism in our daily rituals. Cleaning. Cooking. Working. We only have to flush it out.

a light pluck,

luminous dissonance. I

hear it all again 

-rene

image source: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3529/3241450258_0521cdaa4e.jpg?v=0

Sun, Intention and Result

Sun shining, radiate your own mind
Choose right you might find another life
you might find another
woman don't you know me
woman don't forget your mine

What is a song without a chorus or hook? It is often considered the most important part of a song. The part everyone wants to sing with. The identifiable. Usually names the piece. The face of the song that should dictate the mood and production. Everything hinges on the chorus or hook, so what is left if you take it away?

That is the question Loud Is The Night is built around. Sun is completely devoid of a chorus or proper hook, but not of form. There are a lot of examples of this form in the folk-blues world. Though the more popular songs will repeat one singular unchanging phrase at the end of each verse. But what makes it unique and oddly beautiful is its brevity. It is an idea broken into two thoughts. One to the other, one to the self. Sun is a musical statement. The words could easily be a conversation more than something to be sung. That is why there is no chorus. And why there is no hook. I wanted to make something that was less of a production and more physical.

In the evolution of our three albums, and my songwriting, it is probably the biggest change linking them together. The first, I avoided choruses. Feeling them to be the most contrived and boring parts. The second album grew from the experience of the first. I learned that no matter how good the song is, without a strong chorus, people have far less to hold on to. To identify with. They are less likely to pay attention. I felt like we were tipping the balance. The third was a complete focus on the chorus. Moving the song around it. Really trying to find those moments and flush them out as best we could. 

It was different for me. A new way to approach the craft. I think for the future we will continue in this direction. I don't want to lock us down into anything but I don't know if I'm ready to try that idea again yet. The band is alive and life means change. I don't have a definitive destination, but I know I don't want to be stagnant. Each album. Each song, a stop on our way to the next one. 

Bird calling, makes you wonder why you can not fly
Home told me, you can fly if you want to hide
you can fly if you want to
woman don't you need me
woman don't forget your boy

*
The solo for Sun is one of my favorites. The whole song sways beautifully and the solo with it. It was recorded on an old tack piano Dan had in his basement during the first album. I think he still has it but the tacks might have been removed. At the end of the song, after the final vocal refrain, there is a subtle change in the bass that just adds a huge relief to the groove. I always enjoy listening for it.

So again: What is a song without a chorus or hook? Some might say it is wrong, or incomplete.  I would argue against that and I believe Sun to be good evidence. It is wonderful to have songs of all varieties and forms. There is no right or wrong in music. Only intention and result.

A purple morning, for a few minutes the birds bleet

and two dogs, gruff and snort across the street

and leave all dreamers' stories incomplete

from the kiss that never again will be, 

or the crash of a flighted-girl beneath

some truth she always wished to see.

No, this cant be the same room, 

the same bed, that last took me to sleep

-rene



*image from: http://www.nasa.gov/images/content/706436main_20121114-304-193Blend_M6-orig_full.jpg

Hear Me Crying, Soul-Speak

The older I get, the less that I know
The closer I move, the further it goes. 
I guess I'll just stay in bed.
Dark is the path. Light is a room.
If you hold it back,
It isn't too soon to tell me to think it again
Loud is the night. Quiet the dock.
The harder I think, the more that I stop.
I guess I'll just stay in bed
Hear Me Crying

Few people can really Moan. I'm not talking moan with a stomach ache, any physical pain really, or moan in ecstasy. I mean Moan with a: "M." The type of moan where everyone in ear shot says, I know what that means. Where, with a sound, you prove, not just explain, what you feel and make others empathize. 

It's more than vocal acrobatics. Most vocalists, even great ones, over-do it to the point it becomes ridiculous and the message of the song is lost. A Moan isn't about proving the talent of the singer, probably doesn't have much to do with singing at all. It is more like acting. The performer is telling  the story. That is the division between a good moan and a moan that sets the listeners nerves on fire. There are many great moans in music, that you might think it's easier than it sounds. Try it and hear that it is not. 

I always tried, every night
to be in your arms
holding you tight loving you right
Darling you wouldn't be true

Fear makes it difficult to Moan. At some point you have to let go completely, there is no performance, no audience, no hang-ups, no song, only living. A moment of life where your body, your voice is being used to explain something beyond words. The soul speaks. It is overwhelming. The frailty of self-awareness disappearing. The inability for words to mean enough. It all comes out in the Moan.

*

I wanted to write a song with the capacity to house a Moan. I would love to hear Dan try it. The man has a voice that commands. Who knows maybe I will get there, I am a much improved singer from the time we recorded the first album. One the coolest thing I have the privilege to experience is to hear Dan sing songs I have written. It has happened only a few times but I remember each one. When I wrote Hear Me Crying I was working as a tutor in a writing lab at a San Antonio Community. And one thing it gave me, besides a lot of time to write, was a chance to listen to full albums on 45+ min commute. For some reason for about an entire month I listened only to Etta James' At Last. By the end of the month I had the idea to write a song around the Moan. The words draw a lot of influence from my study of Zen, with a little nod to Chuck Berry.

Not all moans are vocal. Instrumentals can have the same effect. A well crafted chord structure can create the landscape for a solo to express itself. It is all about speaking beyond the parameters of words. Like a painting, or photograph, a moan is worth more than a verse.

She set the kettle when he came in

He hasn't lifted his head since
Always going to the same seat

  Her stronger punches
She's put away to sit with him
Looking at the stove

Afraid it will boil soon

-rene



*image from: http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02115/james_2115502b.jpg

She's Got A Hold On Me, Watching the Emptiness

Laying covered by a sea of spring
Drowning in the light
She moved like the dream I was inside
To my singing came a harmony
I never heard so right
She moved like the dream I was inside
She's gotta hold on me

Every song arrives at its own pace. Some flow in, running almost. I have to fight to keep all the words in memory until I can find paper. I've lost more than a few songs because I didn't make it in time. Quick songs make me feel powerful, like I can conquer anything. But others are slower, more difficult, and much more humbling. 

She's Got A Hold On Me, was one of the most humbling ones I have worked on. The closest analogy I can make is throwing a bucket into a well, and pulling up nothing every time. Every time disappointed. I think that is called insanity...

Sunshine rising, laughter starts to ring
A face that's just as bright
She never shown so right
She moved like a dream I was inside


When a song gets particularly hard for me, I stretch myself out on the floor. To an outsider, it's easy to mistake this for napping. My eyes closed, my hands behind my head in classic napper's pose. I may stay like this for long periods of time, possibly hours. But this is a deep meditation, and far from relaxing. I don't know if it is a good practice, but I have solved a lot of my most puzzling, frustrating moments this way. When I do finally get the answer I was looking for, I feel exhausted...how is that possible? Not to be too self-pitying, I know there are harder jobs out there than writing, namely all of them. And I have respect for everyone of them, but this is honestly how it goes.



She's Got A On Me was so tough to figure out that it took me a second to realize how special it is. Maybe because we felt it was a special song that we were so focused on getting it right.  The hook is fun to sing, the groove is heavy. The whole song is a delicious fuzzy bass-solo which makes it amazingly fun to play. Dan used a sans-amp to get the sound. I had never seen that before, but it sounded tremendous. The man has many tricks up his sleeves. The video was great too, a special thanks to everyone who made that shoot so much fun.


For the better part of the week, I found myself on the floor of my apartment, humming the melody. Repeating the lines. Playing the chords over and over in my head. Turning phrases, re-arranging them. Throwing away verses and choruses, and starting over. Like I was in a coma. The quiet. The isolation, because it doesn't matter what happens around me I am only in my head. Focusing to the dark of my eyelids like the ocean surface at night, waiting for a sign to surface.

*

writing on a noisy machine is actually really soothing for my brain

It isn't like traditional writer's block I've known, I've had that too,-- Which is best remedied by going out and participating in the world. Living fuels creativity-- because the words are there. Just not the right ones. I don't know what it is about a particular phrase that jumps out at me to say I've got it! Sometimes I'm lost among words. Never sure what I'm looking for. I am uneasy until things feel good. Like the puzzle is unfinished. There is more to discover. And diction is the key. 

I don't know if I've had a song as tough as this one since. I'm not really looking forward to it happening again. Here's hoping it won't... Maybe I have gotten better, maybe I need to be more critical... But I still work out tough spots with my laying meditation. Watching the emptiness for the right words to come along.

The flower that splits

I have a need to kick.

To clear my path

 of stones and empty cans.

What does the cat know about yarn

to make him claw it?
What does the mutt know about strangers
to make her bark when I pass?
And what does the rock know about 
the flower that splits?

-rene

* image from: http://oztypewriter.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-many-typewriters-will-it-take-till.html

Where The Waters Roam, Be A Prophet Of Time Square

In the dark I know
It's the way I go
where the gales blow
where the waters roam

You might think I knew what I wanted out of life early on. That there was a five-year-old me somewhere in San Antonio playing air guitar and jumping off the bed, stage diving in pajamas, always knowing that I was meant for performance. But that's not the case, well not entirely.

I found my calling in high school while taking a correspondence course in American Lit. I fell in love with the Short Story, and pretty much all written word. Fitzgerald first, followed by Hemingway, Twain too, I jumped a bunch from then and just started reading everything I could. I was captivated, obsessed. I needed to write. A few great teachers led me on. Introducing me to the Beats, Hunter S. Thompson, Vonnegut. It was all I thought about.

I knew I was going to be a writer and fantasized all the cliches: University! Better: Ivy League. no run away...a vagrant poet... go to Europe, ride the trains, or ride the American trains, build a lake front cabin, be a prophet of Time Square... I wanted to do it all. Often dreaming in classes that had lost my interest. For me there was only the word: write. There was only one problem. The writing didn't come, or at least not the way I hoped it would.

I tried short stories, which were my favorites, but I had no idea where to begin. It seems easy enough: tell a story. It is much harder once you get the pen in your hand. Staring at a blank page of infinite possibilities. Stories can go anywhere, but the longer the page lay blank, the more I felt the possibilities narrowing. The more I felt I was going nowhere. The short story gave me and my dreams a beating just shy of dead.


Had he been awake,
then he might have heard,
in the breathless wind
the tillers start to turn.
With a careful hand
'ssured he'd never rise
till she pulled him back into her arms
Then she whispered soft
of her lonely song
needing his warm embrace
wanting his gentle charms
of her crying nights
till he's by her side
till she pulled him back into her arms

I needed to start smaller. By then I had been to a couple creative writing classes, read some books, made some bad attempts at a lot of writing, and found that my best bits came in short phrases. Not whole stories, not whole chapters, or pages. Not even paragraphs or sentences. But fragments. Little groups of words that moved right. That sung. Flashes of ideas that sparked success.

I started to collect them. Re-arrange them. Re-work them. It was tough, but I eventually made them look like poems. Not great poems. Nothing I felt I should start submitting, I wasn't that naive. The really good thing about them was, they looked and sounded like poems. Which was good enough for a start.

As he held the shroud
looked into her eyes
his fingers lost their grip
and began to slide
till she had him back into her arms

But when it comes to writing a story, novel, poem, or song: I still need a story. Something I can give. Something to anchor to. Writing visually focused helps solidify the idea. This is still the hardest part for me, and it seems for other writers too. Whatever you think of Kerouac, his Rules For Spontaneous Prose have some good advice:

25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it 

26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form

As goofy as it sounds Bookmovie is the modern American form. That is why I feel the books that attract the widest audience, get made into movies so consistently. The story in exact pictures. So I was really excited when a full story came to me.  Even if a simple one. A sailor, a boater, drifting in a small vessel at night. Falling asleep, letting the currents take him. A living ocean, pulling him into the unknown, like a ghostly calling to the water, to death. I saw every frame of it. From beginning to end and tried to put what I saw to music.

Earlier I wrote how Loud Is The Night was composed of vignettes, little stories, an album of fiction. This one was a visual story I'd been wanting to tell for a while. It might have started as a dream, a daydream probably while I wasn't paying attention in school. Falling into the water, an abyss, giving away control like I had nothing to lose. School gave me that feeling sometimes.

My favorite part of Where The Waters Roam comes at the breakdown. When the words actually fall away. The drum beat rumbles a steady wave with the bass. The organ swells like desire and the guitar slides an ethereal melody like a distant siren. I love that the music sounds like the dream felt. The other great part of that song is the chorus was unexpectedly enhanced by two members of Dr. Dog. They helped us so generously with a lot of the vocals on Loud Is The Night. I want to say thanks again to Frank and Scott for being so kind.

It took me some time to get the story to fit the melody. The chords and melody of the song were written by Abe and Jaime. I had to write the story into it. I don't know if the song came off as lyrically strong as I had hoped it would... the music and melodies are still amazing...but I am proud of it.  Some kind of hybrid between The Supremes and Pound, I tried to write with his grumbling deep voice reading the words in my head. It is something I'm always trying to improve on. Making Songmovies.

Where The Waters Roam has a unique feel. Other songs were snapshots of stories. Chapters. This one felt like a beginning and an end. A complete idea. Songwriting has become my medium. I still write a lot of poetry, and have recently begun a new attempt at short stories, also a blog, but songs are where I feel I found myself. Part of the purpose of this blog was for me to work through where I have come from as a writer, to look back and see how much has changed for me. How much I have changed. But now I also see that it is about defining myself. And where I will go. Into the dark. Where the waters roam.

My fingertip held against my lip as the camera,

I wasn't even aware it was stuck, slowly closed in on her face.

Like a train rolling in she wore no surprise just soft anticipation.

Even softer than missed popcorn in the falling dark.

How many times will she live this? How many times will she wait?

Longer than celluloid, a digital eternity.

It is heaven. It is hell. Waiting for a kiss.

-rene

Shake Ya and The Pain of Coming Down

Nature's sun, why don't you come out
Why don't you feel good, yeah you know you oughtta now

You say that you love me,
but you're just too high

It's time to shake ya, it's time to feel bad
Just make a smile between your open eyes and teeth
This world's been telling you just what you ought to know

You say that you love me,
but you just don't know what you gotta know

Lyrics are digested bits of days, remolded in some imaginative lobe-factory during life. I want to tell you about a few of them over the next weeks. I started with Shake Ya, cause it is my first song. Not the first time I put words to music, but the first time it was recognizable as a form. (Imagine several lumped up abandoned mud-brothers to Adam). I was sixteen when the words came, and it took a few years and several tries before it had usable legs.

By the time the song was recorded it stood completely on its own. It's filled with jokes to myself, and a story. (in truth every song on Loud Is The Night is imagined as a complete vignette, every character is different). Now, I'm not sure if the actual story is necessary, but there is more than just me now. I can say this song is not about cough syrup, but i did love the commercial.

The idea was to tell a story with only the amount of detail necessary for me to understand it, then sonically fill in the blanks with mood as setting. Fortunately I think that's what is best about the song, even if the meaning is hard to decipher it is easy to feel... maybe that's what dayquil picked up on?

They were right, the song is about getting better, even if things have to get worse first. The pain of coming down. I don't know why my brain thought this was a good subject to start with, but that's what it fed down to me. Somehow I found myself at the end of a conversation at the beginning of a career.

I've played this song an unknowable amount of times, (live/record/practice/in-shower), but it gives me something new every now and then. I am in love with the sound of the final version, Mr. DQA did an awesome job of producing the track.

You can Listen Here

the word is a bell
I was awakened by a thought:
crashed among immediate tides of youth
slipped under boundless depths of turning
lips ready to reveal smoke-rings of unconscious confession
a birth verging on stillness
breathing slow cries of life.
any can hear, but no one else is moving
I can keep this one tightly to my chest

Though the whole thing was written quickly. I didn't hit me all at once that I had a song I liked. It was a slow couple of days of singing to myself. I don't know how it is for anyone else... there is something terrifying about writing a song to be handed over. I'm still getting used to it. Sometimes I feel like I never will, I've grown to trust my band, and producer, at least enough that my possessive feelings are only momentary. But I felt I had something, and for the first time, wasn't embarrassed to play the song for other people.

There is even some amateur behind the scenes you can see too: Here, A good look into the studio. A bit of Dan helping out.

This song, though written early and before I had a solid idea of what we were going to be, is one I turn back to when I think of what Hacienda's sound is. Sparse, but not barren. Detail with atmosphere. I think every song should be a story, and every element should be used to tell it. I'm glad Shake Ya can tell something more than the words alone, which is why it is a song.

-rene