Red (Part One) a new album
Red Part One
When I released Lost Radio just over a year ago I was going through much of what I am still going through. Feelings of uncertainty, self-doubt; sadness, and helplessness. On that album I did not play bass (my primary instrument.) In a way I had erased myself—or at least symbolically, breaking from this strong association for me and others. However, as I was making Lost Radio I knew I would be making three recordings, the second titled Red.
Red is my favorite colour. For me it reflects a brooding passion, not a smoothed over, soft edged beauty, but rather the beauty of discomfort, of (in cinematic terms) jump-cuts. It is beauty reflected through the unconscious tectonic shifts within oneself. A beauty that does not resolve as it continually expresses itself while intensely enveloping our constructs. So when I sat down to play I let go.
I hadn’t played bass in a while and my nails had grown. That became a focal point of my tone and that tone informed my direction. I played and played and played, finding shapes as I went, musically diverging and digressing, intuitively following a path I could not express in words but even so it was a path familiar to me. It was violent, it was endowed with longing, it was loss and it was anger, it was regret and yearning, it was mistakes and surprises, it was transgression in hopes of transcendence. After I finished recording it sat there.
Why did I wait so long to release it? Well, aside from mixing and other things like that, it took that long, almost a year, for me to understand it. A year! True, we live in a time of hyper-promotion, a time where promotion is first and creation is fitted into that process. And I have met lots of people who are very good at promotion, but what do they understand about their music other than the conventions they are trying to fit within or juxtapose? And this is true about us as individuals. What are we doing when we listen to ourselves? Do we say we lack something? Do we say we must change something? Do we dismiss our own nature for fear that we will be alone? Or do we struggle, trying to understand and express our own failings; the truest impetus and expression of our nature, our failings; this is beauty!
So here is Red, an album in waiting. An experience that I followed. Something that resonates within me and as such is me, because it’s a reflection of my failings. Art has no victory, its experience is, to reference Rumi, like the space in the pot, it is the emptiness that we use. So each moment carries to the next until there is no-moment-at-all.