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Real Plan, 2018

When I got the call [from producer Chris Schlarb] we [my partner and I] were looking for a Spanish dictionary in an Arizona bookstore known widely for it's nude bookkeeper. When we returned from traveling the states [the very same trip that produced The Terrible Noise] there would be assembled a band in a room with these songs on white papers for a record to be made. So much joy and mania from that journey slipped into these sessions. It was recorded mostly live which was a new process for me. Lots of chances well worth it, I fancy it all now. 

I think often about why the album’s called Real Plan. The meaning has changed a throughout the creative process. At first it was just a one liner from a pretty good track. It was also referencing the fact that it was going to be my first real record done at a pro studio that I was going to push my hardest for people to hear. At points later on I got hugely disillusioned with reality in general and it became sort of ironic- because nothing felt real at all and calling this art real made it scream to be taken way too seriously. These days I’ve settled on something I think is really positive... People make plans all the time and it’s our realities swerving from those plans that makes us feel like we’re failing. But- what if the real plan is everything that’s left after our lives take a hundred unforeseen turns? What if it’s up to us to accept it or not? What if the real plan is always how it happens?


The Terrible Noise, 2018

In the winter of 2017 I was living out of a Prius with my partner. We were traveling the country in an attempt to escape the mundane cycle of our then-day-to-day. Childishly, the plan was to sing and dance 24/7 all whilst seeing all there was to see. As we left the bubble of California it was quickly realized that this was midwinter and that survival would be a full time job. My hands were too cold to fret a guitar. We lacked the space to dance. There was no mind left for the writing of songs. 

After some time, in the occasional free moment of safety and solitude at some odd cafe, I developed the habit of scrolling through old hard drives and soundbites from my glitchy analog dictograph. Thus began 'The Terrible Noise'. At the time it was bad habit- a rabbit hole. Over the year, and upon returning to California's Monterey Bay, a shape was made out of the indiscernible. It became more thought-provoking a work than any I had yet made. 

Much of the record consists of song demos never intended for an audience. The takes have the loose, visceral energy of a first run through after being written and for the most part, they are. Portland composer, Paper Gates, provides horn arrangements- the only dubs made with the intention of making an album. The songs are strung together by a conversation with a friend philosophizing the beauty of learning a new language. I believe that is what listening to this record is. If not, the sounding of frustration that the purest music of our generation must be filtered through infinite and terrible noise.


Mechanical Rag, 2018

Since the release of "Home Life," I'd written many pieces and released very little. I'd been feeling like my brain is going to burst with the constant collision of partial projects and the new, complete and unreleased ones. For awhile I was convinced that in this endless storm of modern music, only our greatest works are worth thrusting into the mix. But, frankly, to hell with it! To hell with being so precious with creation. Marking the beginning of a great purging of art in order to make room for future muses is "Mechanical Rag." I don't want it anymore. Free me! This album is basically a live composite of journal musings improvised over some musical ideas in front of a single microphone during one short sitting. 

The Home Recordings, 2015-2016

"Home Life" was recorded between 2015 and 2016 in my makeshift home studio. Each song is based on a true story. Before every session, a dining room table was removed for a drum kit. A laptop was wired up on a kitchen countertop. Microphones hung from a living room ceiling fan. Notebooks of lyrics carpeted the floor. The usual setup was taken down and packed away after every session. The overarching story builds and declines in a calculated manner. Broadly speaking, soundscapes escort the listener from one song's world to the next, forming a loose chronology. As my first major release, "Home Life" is a dramatized retelling of memorable antics throughout childhood and, while examining such personal affairs, succeeds in rooting out a collection of universal meaning. It's hard to imagine an adventurous tune like "Who's There?", which, upon first listen, is simply about waiting for a guest to arrive. "Line to the Attic" turns a musty storage space into a twisted, yet whimsical circus. Underneath the title track's raucous energy lies a morbid account of a family crumbling after a young man ends his own life. All in all, it's easy to forget this work is a sonic scrapbook coming from a middle class home. "Home Life" is a huge production with a humble base. It takes itself seriously, but implements humor while maintaining compassion. 


Politics Are Parlor Tricks, 2016

Written in anticipation of the 2016 presidential election, "Politics Are Parlor Tricks" walks a tightrope of socio-political themes ranging from vegetarianism to Donald Trump. It was written and recorded within a month, making it all quite reactional. Most songs stemmed from stream-of-consciousness sessions, and the performances exude some pretty visceral energy. I was listening to a lot of Terence McKenna lectures if that helps you understand the headspace I was in a little better. The album debuted on Nov. 8, 2016 at a local coffee shop during the announcement of the next US president. 


The Beholder, 2014

I released "The Beholder" when I was 20 years old. Most of the songs are short stories with strong characters. At the time, there wasn't a lot going on in my life, and creating these small universes felt like an appropriate use of my time. I wrote the title track while watching a homeless man from the window of my hotel in British Columbia. That was an unshackled time. The album starts with the title track and is bookended by "The Fishbowl," which is an account of my personal struggle with drugs and aimlessness. Between these two very personal tracks unfolds much more fantastic and fictional tales tales. This album wasn't possible without my lifelong collaborator, Erik "Lobo" Gilbert.