Put It In the Fire

I’m beginning to hear voices and there’s no one around
Well, I’m all used up and the fields have turned brown
I went to church on Sunday and she passed by
My love for her is taking such a long time to die

I’m waist deep, waist deep in the mist
It’s almost like, almost like I don’t exist
I’m twenty miles out of town, in cold
Irons bound

Bob Dylan

(From the song “Cold Irons Bound,” on “Time Out of Mind,” 1997.)


Every Song Stops Time

Just like every picture stops time. You can feel it all again. The rising perfection of the moment. The connecting human heat. You’re alone and you’re in a crowd. You don’t know the names of anyone beside you. You can barely see. You’re connected to everyone and everyone remains a unique story of love and sadness and struggle and suffering. You start to glow. Your eyes absorb light. You’re alive and you’re dead and you’re alive again in every immortal minute. You can’t remember what you do or how you got in this room or how you will get home and you don’t care. Everything around you matters in ways that never mattered before. You can’t explain yourself. You don’t need to. When you leave you’ll never see any of these people again. You feel like you’re in love. And you know all this without having to say a word. And they know it, too. Because every song stops time.


My Foolish Boat

Set adrift, on shapeless oceans
I did all my best to smile
Til your singing arms and fingers
Drew me loving to your eyes.

And you sang, “Sail to me, swim to me;
Let me enfold you.”

Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was flotsam?

(From “Song to the Siren,” as performed by Brendan Perry and Robin Guthrie, on the “Live at KEXP” (Volume 8) CD.

The photo, another Heartless Bastards Croc shot.)


Seven Breezes Blowin’

Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin broken down

You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
They don’t know how to smile

Bob Dylan

(From the song “Ballad of Hollis Brown,” on his record, “Times They Are a-Changin,” released in January, 1964.

Photo is of the Heartless Bastards playing at The Crocodile in Seattle.)


Those Magnificent Bastards

The Heartless Bastards played The Crocodile in Seattle on a brutally hot night in a space that smelled like hot tequila, cigarette smoke, and sweat. They were totally in command of the space and their loyal fans. Their set was built primarily off their latest record, “Arrow” (Partisan Records, 2012), which I think their finest to date. This is modern music today. Bands like this are carving out a new economy for themselves. It’s a life on the road, playing festivals and bars with the same energy. I spent most of 2012 with “Arrow” as my model for modern music production. I have a lot of respect for the craftsmanship this band brings to both their record producing as well as their road-dog touring lifestyle.