Bedtime Stories

Bedtime Stories is out today, the third LP from my ambient noise duo with Austin Hatch, described thus:  A spare and beautiful album, blending the wild tumult of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, the sway of Tim Hecker, and the delicate ambience of Ryuichi Sakamoto.

There is a video for one of the tracks here.

We recorded live in my shop with six mics, then took everything to Ghost Hit Recording where Andrew and Austin re-amped the guitars, and Andrew mixed the record. The press release states:

The sonic landscape captured is both vast and explosive, at times achingly delicate, quiet enough to hear pedal clicks and feet shuffling. The album begins gently with “Opening | Leaving Part III,”  which builds into a woody and shimmering roar, before falling  into a fog of effervescent melody. The second track, Murmuration takes us deeper into the clouds, and by the time we reach Surfacing Part II, the noise becomes a fury, with Pitcher’s son Tilden adding Chris Corsano-like drums to propel things over the cliff.  Rampike Rumour brings more reckless abandon, before we settle into a calm rumination on time and aging, as Pitcher sings us out on a seasick drifting lullaby, arguably the most beautiful thing the duo has ever recorded.

I couldn’t make this now with my hand as it is. We began tracking immediately after wrapping up the sessions for The Bellows, and in an emotional way, the two records feel connected by a sonic thread. I almost chose to release them simultaneously, as The Bellows Parts I and II. I know that there is an insane amount of music out there, which can feel overwhelming and impossible, but perhaps this one will soothe the same thing in you, that it does in me. It’s pretty special. And its absolutely worth your time.

Meanwhile, a strange fall it has been; though my perspective at present is coloured by the lingering effects of what I believe was my first Covid infection, which has left me mired in the dreaded brain fog; it sure is thick and goopy in here.  As long as I can sit with some acceptance of the situation at present, it isn’t so bad; it feels a bit like I’m in a dream, which is pleasant in some ways. 

Acceptance:

So much of our struggle in life, is our difficulty in simply accepting what is, at any given time.  I’ve been doing much work on this as my hand is so slow to heal.  I was told last week by a hand specialist that I will never make a fist again, and that I have what she would define as a “non-functional” left hand.  That was hard to hear.  I have ten appointments over the next two months, so hopefully progress will come.  If not, she said that I’m looking at “major hand surgery.” Sigh. 

I have, at least, returned to playing electric guitar which was impossible for the first two months post injury.  I can’t really play any chords (aside from some dyads) and everything still hurts, but I’m doing my best.  I began filming videos of myself playing (mostly improvising) each week that I’m calling the “Broken Hand Series,” and it has been fascinating to try to express what resides in my head with such immense limitation.  Reminds me a bit of living in Spain and trying to have philosophical conversations; my Spanish is pretty good, but man did I feel feeble.  There is a funny story of a woman asking me to go for a run, late one night as we were coming home from a bar. I had a crush on her, but I was caught off guard, and I was tired and I thought that was weird. I told her that I don’t really like to run at night, but maybe we could meet up some other time. It must have been two o’clock in the morning. The whole conversation was odd and I could feel something was off, but I was too tired to make any sense of it. She seemed disappointed. There were people out and about everywhere; old people, children, teens! The Spanish, at least in the nineties, appeared to have an entirely different relationship to sleep and time, than us folks here in The States. So I just figured, well…maybe they exercise in the wee hours; at least it isn’t so bloody hot. It wasn’t until the next morning, sitting on the rooftop of my apartment in Sevilla,drinking coffee with a bowl of yogurt, that I realized she was not saying “run,” but rather a colloquial expression for coitus. I laughed heartily. For better or worse, I never saw here again.

Anyway, the hand can feel like a confining sensation, one of entrapment, so I’m working to free myself from that and be in the moment, making the most honest and meaningful music that I can make. Sounds lame, but I mean it. You can check out the videos here. I’ve invited guests to join me, so that’s something to look forward to this winter. Onward. 

I’ve finished just over half of the demos for the sequel to The Bellows (as yet untitled) which has been an odd challenge.  I cannot play 80% of what I’ve written, so I’m having to simplify and think in imaginative ways.  A good thing perhaps.  The weird part is contemplating going into the studio next spring, which is my tentative plan.  Unless there is great progress with my hand, I will not be able to play guitar on the session, aside from some ambient noise stuff.  Maybe it would feel liberating and exciting to play the role of conductor in the studio and to attempt live vocals…

We saw Dakhabrakha perform last weekend which was wonderful. If they’re playing near you, go. They have an uncanny way, like Sigur Ros or Tinariwen, of making mostly simple music, incredibly powerful and engaging. What a thrill to finally see them, having been a fan for years. It was difficult to think about Ukraine, the nightmare those people have endured, as I sat listening, and quite humbling to hear them speak about their freedom and the brave heroism of their people. A reminder that my hand is but a small struggle.

I received an email from an old friend the other day. Ron Guensche has been a part of my musical journey for nearly three decades. He is a mastermind in the studio, a wizard with anything electronic (or analog), without question my favourite electric bass player in the world, and one of those folks who is just good to the core. I miss him; I miss playing with him, and listening with him, and drinking a beer on a hot summer night in his basement. We just don’t understand how fleeting it all is when we’re 27. He sent this photo of himself playing the bass I built, and it hit me right in the chest. Live music, my friends, is it. People can listen to our music for free, 13 year olds can become internet stars for one lousy cover song, and robots can copy us, but no-one can take the humanity and the heart out of people standing before us, making live music, standing on the edge of a precipice.

Be well folks. Stay warm, make community however you can, help people who need it, and have a wonderful holiday season, and go see some live music. As always, thanks for reading and listening.