My circuits gleam

It bears repeating. Screaming for Vengeance smells like Coppertone, wet dreams, fish fry (old oil), sewer, sand, industry, a warm Bud, candy, cigarettes and candy cigarettes, hot Folgers, sweat, hairspray, and, further down field synesthetically, it tastes this way, too.

Will today's music conjure multi-sensory reflections? Our delivery systems are sleek and space age and, well, clean. This was not the case a short while ago. Clubs and bars and cars and public grounds- physical playback media as well- had a grit unrecognizable to contemporaneous postburbia hermetics.

Judas Priest sounds as it does because of how it arose. My music is available in recorded form, though its fullest expression is in the moment of creation. The set dressing is the impression. Without the mechanism of populist transmission and dissemination, my music touches/sounds/tastes/feels/smells/intuites essentially once, with a handful of harmonic echoes in each digital playback. Not all that different from the Priest after all, though the circumstances surrounding any of their classic albums were a lot smokier and less clinical than mine and yours. It bears repeating.

Ruttin' on the pizz

Music is said to make us happy, and indeed this is often the case as it has been for millennia. Yet evidence is everywhere that music (and inseparable-from-music extramusical activity) seems to reinforce divisions and prejudices, hostilities and biases. (There's no accounting for taste; opinions/preferences/nostalgias are inevitable. My concern is with actions, whether the anonymous online hater flinging %@$^!, or the self-limiting "I don't listen to that because it's beneath me" attitude a.k.a. that/you/those people sucks/suck/suck, triple S not worthy.)

What is sucking or its opposite-and-analogue blowing as regards guitar playing? Digital manipulations failing to honor imaginary standards of speed/technique/precision/flair/attitude (hard to quantify)/repeatability (and most important, copyability). Or perhaps the timbral realm sullied by insufficiently recognizable genre allegiance, the standard of which is country=Tele; folk=Martin; classical=nylon, jazz=expensive (Purity of Tone), metal=pointy, in sound and shape. The rhythm veers too close to ethnicity for insularity to flourish. The harmony isn't ultradiatonic, and hurts calcified expectations. The melody follows internal logic, rejecting the thrust of historical implication.

Plus you have to look a certain way (and be a certain size/color/build/gender) to do certain things with the guitar. Duh. Hair can be worn in one of two styles per style. Sartorial choices aren't really. Branding, lifestyle development, and global deals await, so long as you go long, the long con of running in place.

But what matter. Change is afoot, and cultural/social/political/technological change is both catalyst and conductor. Soon few will care about the guitar. The guitar and all the fights about it and what can/should be done with it, what is allowed, will be over. Thank goodness. Perhaps then, labels lost, we can get back to plunking about on these fascinating stringed instruments that do offer (in the company of friends and in the spirit of exploration) happiness. Oh yeah, those, what are they called again? Best not to answer.

We will still have music in a relatively guitarless future. Hopefully some of this musical activity will transcend tribal skirmish, letting us hear a reminder- however excellent, however amateur, however underbaked or just right, however personal/private/unfamiliar/pretty/ugly/sad/joyous- hopefully a reminder breaks through that we are all just trying to figure out how to move within our finite days. I'd like the stories we tell to broaden in scope, and accommodate new developments as they arise. Music is already flexible enough for this; we just need to relax (everything) to hear it.


The 2nd universal New Yorker cartoon caption: "What a misunderstanding!" Yesterday's activity is equally universal, but understood completely. I had the privilege of playing a solo concert to a small group of friends, family, and age-spanning bypassers in a beautiful place with much-loved energy. Listen as life happens throughout. And that was just the first event. Later on, a house concert with two of my dearest musical companions, also with an enthusiastic band of listeners/participants/fellow fellows in attendance. I love this world, far removed from spectacle/marketing/hype/networking/oneupping...dialogue with our shared humanity for no particular reason at all.


Moonraker Moon Unit/Moonchaser/Muñoz and the second maternal fa-amily you chose often noted no prob Moon Patrol incomplete and A Flock of Seagulls

Tic to your Tac® brushed clean with hot wacks house Tudor Make Trax to the I of your Max


Townie app interview 9.13.15

Dude, you have put out so much music. It's refreshing in the age of sometimes over calculation in the music industry. Just for our audience, have you counted all the music you've put out and about how much is out there?

There are 105 albums at Most have been recorded within the last few years. I love recording and sharing; it's that simple. I've learned to work very quickly and cheaply, but I'm happy with everything I'm putting out.

On the latest Crazy Hoarse album you set out to "to create sounds I'd never played before." Did you realize that goal and what was the headspace you had to get into to gesture towards that?

With the Pseudo Dirkschneider album, I feel I did achieve a uniqueness relative to my previous work. (I'm particularly taken with the central event in "Baldnado"...the lyrics and melody came to me all at once, perfectly realized.) There's a wideness and a propulsion embedded inside the textures I played, something akin to a group skate across a hidden ice lake informing the ocean. A quick mental cataloging let me scratch off the list of possibilities anything that I'd done prior, and from there, I just let the muse have ascendancy over my conditioning.

How do you feel about more and more "strange" and abstracted sounds making their way into pop music?

Perhaps they will no longer be considered strange as they become ubiquitous. I feel it's a great thing to demystify modes of communication and expression. The challenge for me and others will be how to create sounds that transcend what once was unknown and is now cliché.

Your performances can be highly ritualized at times. What connection do you see in ritual and music when it comes to your live performance?

I've heard it said that shamanistic music in antiquity was characterized by interruptions, as the spirits guiding the process had their own timeframe and agenda. Trance music per se, on the other hand, generally has a steady beat, like our heartbeats, or, in common parlance, like most of what we regard as music. I'm interested in how these approaches intersect, and take care to respect the sacred space necessary to facilitate such a complex and fluid unfolding of information. Whether an audience is in the room with me, or listening on speakers to a recording, my role is to create and complete an arc that has structural, emotional, and timbral integrity, regardless of how far it stretches away from someone's comfort zone or familiarity. There are ways to achieve a grounding to begin the excursion, and ways to achieve safe return; this is my highest priority.

There's not only a play element with sounds throughout your work, but there's a consistent play on words amongst the song and album titles. Do you enjoy words as much as you do music, at least at times, and is there a conscious effort to playfully reauthorize common phrases or names?

Yes, I love words (written and spoken) as much as "music"...if they are indeed separate. What lies beneath and beyond words texturally and contextually is endlessly inspiring. Is my wordplay the result of conscious effort? Generally not. Some of it comes from mishearing or misspeaking, and some of it comes from the twilight state between waking and sleeping.

Obviously you run in fairly avant garde music circles, but what are a few songs that you appreciate that your peers may think, "I can't believe you listen to that crap"?

I don't ascribe guilt to sounds. Today on a car trip, the spontaneous playlist included Fever Ray, a cover of Amos Moses by Primus, some Feist, some Ozzy Osbourne, Michael Jackson, and Circa Zero, a band with guitarist Andy Summers of The Police.

What direction do you want to go over the next year with music?

I hopefully will get out of the way of whatever wants to emerge!

Ultrarational House of Pancakes UrHOP by Crazy Hoarse CH

Add to it your feelings, your hopes, your joys, your best times, your most colorful moments. The whirl tilts this way and that, the little noticed detail kisses a place of just letting go: of concept, of expectation, of s'can't adherence. This is pink and green and contradiction-not-mattering. Could we make it regular, we did! We do! Our hats off, oof, t'hat's roof roof! Thank you for listening. TYFL.