By Wednesday, February 1st I will have gone to six shows since Wednesday, January 25th. One of them is my own, but it still counts; right? Everyone knows I see a lot of concerts. It is what I do, but this is a bit much, even for me.
I kicked this string off with Samantha Crain at Off Broadway. I saw Samantha for the first time three years ago, and I have made it a point to see her every time she comes through town. She puts on a great show and is a brilliant songwriter. Friday I headed out to Plush, which is a really cool new venue in town, to check out My Molly. You all know how much I love this band, so I will just stop there. After seeing their set I bounced over to the Firebird to check out Gubenthal. I had a pretty chaotic drive home in the pouring snow-rain-muck that evening, but I made it safely and Saaby only took on one pot hole she should not have.
Last night...last night was the Lemonheads at Old Rock House. If you are a fan of people watching, I HIGHLY recommend checking out a band that is 20 years past their prime. Shows like that bring out the most amazing cross section of fans. You get the diehards that never grew out of the era, the superfans that went to tons of shows back in the day but have since allowed life to consume them, the fans that never got a chance to see them in their hay day but didn't want to miss this opportunity (that is the group I fall in), and even a good selection of kids that weren't even born when the band was big but they heard the legend. I went to the show with a fellow writer. It is always a dangerous situation to be with a fellow writer when people watching is involved, inevitably it becomes less about the show and more about painting the moment. Here are a couple portraits I jotted down. They are kind of #MicroPoetry, but they were too big for Twitter, so I thought I'd just go to the blog with them.
Portraits from Lemonheads
He With intent eyes Stares down flat screen flicker As if he witnessed Jesus Too awkward to join the masses worshipping at his feet Too timid to look God in the face
Mom bob Bops inverse to driving rhythm Tonight She revisits youth Dreams deferred Tonight She is 18 Free Life’s trappings years away from reality Tonight She is Mrs. Robinson
This evening, Sunday, January 29th, it is my mid-day show at Broadway Oyster Bar. Definitely one of the coolest venues in the city, and I am covering a full 3 hours (there will be a set break, of course) which is always a fun challenge for me.
Hope you have been seeing some great music or dance or art...Let me know in the comments below what you have been up to lately. I'd love to know...Eric
I have become lazy. Seems as though my only poetic thoughts happen in under 140 characters, like I have given in to the ADD that society has forced upon us through 30 second commercials that have us clambering for $5 food we know will kill us one day. Still we hop in cars to drive the same block we would have walked 25 years ago. Make no mistake, growing old sucks, and while I have done my best to embrace the change and continue to chase my youth, I know it is slowly dying too.
There has been so much going on in my world lately that I felt I needed to reconnect with youth, so I started this piece a month or so ago, and I forced it finished today. It is pretty typical Eric poetry, rule driven, fissure surfing. Ultimately I am playing with numbers and words. Seven is my favorite number, so there are seven stanzas. My other favorites make up seven, three and four. I begin with three stanzas of three line with three words in each, and then transition to four stanzas of 4 lines with 4 words each. At the end, I hope I have something that means something. You can be the judge of that.
Purity’s End
Meet midnight nightly Surrounded by strangers Wearing intoxicated smiles
Weathered eyes, tired Silver and dirt Replacing youthful sunshine
Boy buried beneath Callused voice responses Signifying purity’s end
Paradise lost long before Drawing purple cloud skies Exchanged for green grass Brown tree trunk reality
Thirsty pupils pointed left Trying desperately to recall Agendaless days of summer Play life’s ultimate apex
Fearless moments of flight Falling freely from roofs Too tall for survival Tennis shoed feet escape
Glint of excitement returns Lips curl upward, slightly Remembering first kiss power Restoration of innocence lost
Ah January 1...the previous year sits in the review while we move towards hope and actualized potential.
For me, it also means it is time to consolidate all of my Micro Poetry posts from the last 2 months. As a reminder I am a writer, and sometimes I just want to play with words, to create fantasy...so just enjoy the images, don't try to figure out if these moments actually happened. You will never know :-)
I lay In white noise silence Staring into a circulating ceiling Creating conversations with the dead
I watched your lips Their fullness Make marvelous shapes during conversation I silenced them With my lips
Tender eyes witnessed Great grey bow cut purple ocean Forming iridescent angel wings Beauty through fog of conflict
The dark days are upon us Light Wasted on a world forbidden to play Evenings Spent in deep solitude Hibernation
I heard you howl beneath shadowed moon until morning light broke You thrashed about raising skin with excitation and fear
My bed felt empty Legs mourning the absence of the tangle Hands missing the softness of your sea salt skin
I cannot focus My mind tirelessly weaving a chronological tapestry Taking me from first breath to you
Pale skin glows beneath purple hue Clean line from hip to chest interrupted by hand Body wilts from temperature of touch
I witnessed Grapefruit sun rising between brown earth and quilted sky I paused To take pictures with my mind
I woke-up in dream Sensation of your touch So real My hand searched mattress and covers Looking for your body
Days between when I kissed your lips And when I clutch this pillow trying to recall your scent Have grown too many
Profound white-noise of pre-dawn holiday The world Still and silent Except for the incessant hum of the machine
My fingers Trace your curves Effortlessly moving between attractions Like a skater planning a competition run
Scent of sex Still lingers on sheets and pillows
I Lay in thickened thought Longing to feel your touch Again
Snapped the comforter Watching it fall into place Forcing the release of hidden air Caught your scent Inhaled a smile
I In silent reflection You In vocal rejection Dance with personal demons Lean on each other to stand
Even in the darkest of mornings My mind Rich with thoughts of you Provides light
You Tore me from sheets Where she Still naked and wanting Lay My resentment has never been so strong
You entered through a window Painted shut Seal unbroken for years But here you are The breeze feels magnificent
I watched you falling Floating through dark pre-dawn sky Dissolved before I felt your presence
Buried beneath blankets Head moving between pillow and breasts As we danced in short-breath silence
Sleep Once peaceful Replaced by nightmares No words Just footsteps and clawing My mind Uncontrollable
Sandwiched between semi's Cold rain and mist wiped from windshield While dividing lines disappear into street shimmer
And I lie here Alone Naked and Shivering Longing for warmth For Summer's sunshine kiss For your touch
And I Having taken my last conscious breath Met you with closed eyes Where we lay beneath lilac and walked in clouds
I have fallen from favor Purity Wings Once outstretched Now bound to back White feathers gray Tarnished from soot
Children Sleep restless Dreaming of elves and Jesus While parents Drink wine and tape folds Trying to bring the joy they once knew
I remember when I lost my poet Hiding in deep confusion's dark forest Shouting words into silence I refused to listen
Lungs Filled with crisp 4 am air Push body forward Brain Filled with sullenly etched images Lives in rewind
I awoke to the image me and you Dancing Palm to palm Chest to chest Eye to eye We moved with absolution
The world waits For corks to pop and balls to drop Ten seconds of unbridled hope Newness greeted with a kiss
2012 is finally upon us. Finally may not be the correct word. For me 2011 was a flash of light, but I am thrilled to have a good selection of music to help me remember the year. Now, I have the difficult task of picking my Top Ten Albums of 2011.
Before I get into it, a few caveats:
Like last year, I am only ranking albums that I actually purchased. As you get into this list, you may see some names that you do not recognize. It is important to remember that I go to A LOT of concerts, as a result I have the opportunity to see some bands that are just starting out, doing regional touring, playing Thursday sets to 25 people, and struggling to get to the next destination. If the band is good, I always buy the CD. Also, as much as I want to be completely objective, I know I am not. Where I struggle the most is when an artist has multiple CDs. It seems somewhat impossible for me to judge the recent one without reflecting on the older CDs. In some cases that hurt an artist’s place in the Top Ten, in some cases it prevented them from even making the Top Ten, but in the case of my top pick, it helped them secure the Best Album of 2011.
To be honest this list was somewhat of a surprise to me and seemed to be ever changing as the year progressed. Unlike last year, when I got into December and started trying to remember all the CDs I bought, this year I kept a spreadsheet that I added CDs to as I purchased them, and after a week in the car, I would loosely assign a rank. What surprised me is how some CDs that I thought were going to be top contenders in January or February ended up not even making the list. A few things that were significant factors were how much play time an album got, what I would have done differently if I had recorded the CD, standout songs, vocals, lyrics, did I get to see them live, and how did they do. I understand the last should absolutely not be a factor when ranking Albums, but damn it if you cannot do it live, then your CD means less to me.Also, I did not rank EPs. EPs tend to piss me off because they leave me feeling unfulfilled. That being said, if you are going to buy one from 2011, it should be Far From the Tree by Peach. It was refreshingly raw and powerful. Lastly, I am confident that had I been able to see the Pistol Annies live, Hell on Heels would have made this list.
Of all the CDs on this list, I feel I was the most unfair to Old Soul by Stevie & the Hi-StaXX. Had it been from any other artist it could have been a top 5 contender. The lyrics are intelligent and powerful. Stevie’s voice is clear, controlled, and emotive, and while definitely paying homage to the soul of old, musically, the CD sounds like a modern interpretation, as opposed to a copy cat. So why did it end up at #10? My favorite CD of all time is Armaghetto which is from Stevie Harris’ first band, Conglomerate. I know I shouldn’t be comparing his first band to his current project, but I cannot help it. Conglomerate was Stevie. This CD is Stevie. I cannot separate the two. Where “Old Soul” falls short for me is Stevie’s reliance on falsetto. I know where the influences are coming from, and why he made the stylist change, but that doesn’t mean I have to embrace it. The reality is Steve Harris has the biggest voice I have ever heard, and I feel shortchanged when he takes a line to falsetto as opposed to powering it up there. I know this makes it seem like I am placing him in a box, that I am not respecting his artistic freedom, but Armaghetto had such a profound effect on me. It was the first CD that made me realize there was amazing music outside of the confines of the shit radio had been spoon feeding me, and that is hard to escape. “Where” is the closest Stevie comes to the in-your-face Heavy Soul that changed my life.
When looking at this list Priscilla Ahn must seem the most out of place. Everything else appears to be so dark, and even in her darkest moments, her beautiful round tone and playful instrumentation ends up making the song seem light and hopeful, and this album is definitely more sunshine and roses than her debut release, A Good Day. Although there is more love than longing on When You Grow Up, the CD is well produced, the lyrics are thoughtful and sincere, and Priscilla’s voice is the perfection of purity.What helped Priscilla fight her way into the top ten was an absolutely incredible performance during a disgustingly under-attended show at the Old Rock House and possibly my second favorite song of the year, “I Don’t Have Time to be In Love.” As someone that spends way too much time at work, has a really robust social life, and is still chasing the dream of music, I definitely relate to this song. It is so easy to deny love because we are too busy for it, but when it is real, we will make the time.
There is no question that I love soulful music, the more I want to cry when focusing on your words, the tone of your voice, the pain in your chord structure, the more I love your song. It is also no secret that I am a sucker for harmonies. As a choir kid, it is something I will never escape. When I hear them my ears perk-up like a cat stalking the scratching sounds of a mouse from 2 rooms away. Barton Hollow offers both in a stripped down recording that has become the friend I turn to when I am wallowing in a dark funk. That being said, I feel like I need to apologize to the John Paul White and Joy Williams for this placement. Had I made this list when the CD first came out, it probably would have been in the Top 5, but I overplayed it. That, coupled with my complete obsession with their 2009 release, Live at Eddie’s Attic, caused this CD to lose some position in my Top 10 list. Barton Hollow does feature my favorite song of 2011, “Poison and Wine.” What I loved about this recording is they didn’t over produce it. Studio albums are always going to have more layers than a live album, but they stayed pretty true to the live version on this recording, and I respect that, that they understand how powerful the song is, that they realize that adding to can often detract. I’d also like to say that the Civil Wars were probably my second favorite show of the year, and I will be seeing them again in January.
As a longtime fan of Pedro the Lion I was elated that David Bazan put out a new CD. Of my top ten, Strange Negotiations is, instrumentally, the most exciting to my ears. That probably just confused some of you, as it is possibly the least complex, but I love the tension that sparseness manifests. I love the tones David and company create throughout the recording, the thick fuzzed bass, the droning guitars with natural tube overdrive, the well placed atmospherics, and, in general, I am more drawn to down-tempo tunes than up-tempo rockers. This CD is full of thinkers. You put it in on a nice long drive and lose yourself in the stories.Lyrically, it is raw, honest, reflective, and personal. He opens his mind to us, allows us to witness his creation, feel his pains, and attempt to understand his existential dilemma. If there was a fault to this CD it might be that it is so personal, as a result some may struggle to internalize the connection to it. As for a standout track, I am going to go with “Wolves at the Door.” They are all really strong, but this is just such a great introduction to the CD. You instantly know that Bazan is back and going to treat you to an amazing recording.
I had the pleasure of opening for the Features this year at Cicero’s, and it was one of the highlights of my musical career. They are amazing, and they proved it on 2011’s Wilderness. Some Kind of Salvation was the kind of disc that you wear out which made me kind of worried about Wilderness. How could it be that good? It is that good by being that different. While Matt Pelham’s vocals are still a focal point for me, this CD is rougher around the edges. It is like that seedy little hole in the wall that you cannot help but love. It forces you to move rather than just listen. It takes music from being purely auditory and cerebral and makes you have a physical relationship with it. I am actually listening to the CD right now and struggling to find something critical to say. The only thing I came up with was the keys. At times their voicing is a little too churchy or 80’s for me. I think I would have preferred a more dirty Rhodes or thick B-3 sound. Standout track, “Big Mama Gonna Whip Us Good.” How do you not love a song with a title like that?
Of the Top 10 this may be the hardest for me to write because of my connection to them. After all we shared a band member for two years which ultimately broke-up my band. I have seen UTR so many times that I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this CD. They have a history of becoming too liberal with their consumption before a gig which can lead to clusterfuck of sorts, but when they are on, they are incredible. So which Union Tree Review was going to show up on the disc…the disc that they self-produced and recorded in an apartment? The incredible one. It is important to note that had Tawaine Noah (lead singer and songwriter) dropped a solo disc with just him and the guitar, it probably would have made the Top 10. He is an old soul with a modern pen. His lyrics are personal yet accessible, heartfelt and hopeful. That being said, the more I listened to this CD the more my ears were drawn to Jordan’s guitar and Matt’s well placed drumming. I am also obsessed with Patrick’s harmonies. That being said this CD is not free from fault, none are really, and this is more a matter of taste then error, but I feel like the viola, trumpet, and two guitars end up crowding the middle. Rather than having tonal and pitch differentiation they tend to sit in the same register which muddies the builds. I am torn between three songs as my top pick, “Interstate” and “Parties” both mesmerize me, but for the opening line “Your coffee is bitter like I, at least it’s got an excuse. Like you it’s cold and taste like scotch,” my pick goes to “Facing Fools.”
Where do I begin with Company of Thieves? I am about to be accused of blaspheme, just remember when I explained that this blog is about my opinion and though I try to be objective, I cannot always be. To me the pairing of Walloch and Schatz is up there with Page and Plant or DeLeo and Weiland. Yes. I just said that. Marc Walloch is an amazing guitarist. He understands the roots of the instrument, but rather than show up with a slew of vintage gear in an attempt to recreate what once was, tonally he pushes the boundaries of what the guitar can be without sacrificing its guitarness. If you do not know that name, it is probably because Genevieve Schatz has such a powerful presence that she kind of becomes the band. Her voice is unmatched, soaring and soulful. I have seen them four times in the last 18 months, and have always left feeling inspired. Let’s talk Running from a Gamble. We are getting into the territory where the current album is not only equal to previous releases, it surpasses them. I absolutely love Ordinary Riches, but I do not think it did justice to the songwriting duo that is Walloch and Schatz. It was kind of the Genevieve show, which is a great show; however, on Running from a Gamble Marc’s guitar grabs you by the jaw, spins your ear towards his amp, and demands that you listen to him. If you do, you will be glad you did. Similarly, I think the band as a whole showed themselves as a powerful force of rock, soul, and groove. Eitan Bernstein’s keys are thick and tasteful, and the rhythm section of drummer Chris Faller and bassist Marcin Sulewski, is one of the best you will find in any band, tight, prominent but not overpowering. This was the first CD where I knew, immediately, what my favorite track was. Sonically “Gorgeous/Grotesque” strums every chord of this rockers heart. Its dynamic shifts give it breath and energy, and the builds make we want to kick shit over, turn my amp to 11, light it on fire, and watch it burn while I play my guitar with a ferocity that would frighten children.
Ryan Adams is back. I should probably just stop there. I mean how do I write about one of my biggest influences? If you are a fan of Ryan Adams, you probably know he is amazingly prolific and has never confined himself to a particular genre. If you are a fan, you also probably have a favorite period of Ryan Adams, whether it was with Whiskeytown, his first 3 solo CDs, the meanderings through rock and indie rock with Rock-N-Roll and Love is Hell, or his work with the Cardinals. Well, for me, his first 3 CDs are untouchable, and Ashes and Fire, takes a circular move back to the beginning. The lyrics are sensitive and sincere. They paint breathtaking images and impel you to feel, if only for the 3 minutes that they wash over you. The instrumentation is sparse but layered with enough variance to keep the ears excited during a first to last listen. His voice is tender and pure. It is the kind of CD that when you put it on you immediately want to pop a cork, light a candle, and hold someone you love. It was really hard for me to pick a favorite song, so I’ll claim the bookends. “Dirty Rain” and “I Love You But I Don’t Know What To Say.” Both will melt you.
Unless you have never read any of my Blogs, my Twitter, or my Facebook, you should have seen this coming. I have been gushing about My Molly for three years now, and when they released Beekeepers, I dropped a review. Rather than rehashing the blog, I’ll just let you read it, remind you that I love this CD and tell you to do yourself a favor and purchase it. By total plays, production, vocals, lyrics, and ability to do it live, this CD definitely deserved placement in the Top Ten, and the back to back heart melting combination of “Fission and Fusion” and “Tie Me to the Mast (a Sirens Song)” helped secure it as the 2nd best CD of 2011.
Where to start with this album…where to start? First I should say I love everything Dallas Green has done under the guise of City and Colour, and while having multiple albums may have negatively impacted others, it helped this CD. In truth, if I were completely objective, this CD would have still been my #1 regardless of past work, but, for me, City and Colour keeps getting better. The rich instrumentation and layers on this CD create the tension and release that I love in music. The well placed pedal steel on various tracks makes my ears happy, Dallas has the most amazing voice since Jeff Buckley, and more importantly, he proves it during his live performances. City and Colours’ show at the Pageant this year, was definitely my #1 concert going experience of 2011. Yeah. I said that. I meant that, and I stand by that. There are so many breathtaking songs on this CD, it is next to impossible to pick a favorite, but I am going to go with “Sorrowing Man.” The lyrics are powerful and speak to me. I love the dirty resonance and controlled drive of the rhythm section, not over powering or fighting for dominance but definitely driving the song. Please do yourself a favor and buy this CD. You will be glad you did. Your lover will be glad you did. Your neighbors will be glad you did. Your co-workers will thank you.
And there we have MY Top Ten of 2011. I am sure for many of you there are CDs that you feel deserved a spot on this list, and I would love to hear about them, so please feel free to comment with your Top Ten of 2011.
We have made it to November, and as I look back on some of the tiny poetry I have posted for the world to read or ignore, I am reminded of the kind of writer I am, how I live in series, how my themes are cyclical, how I hide reality behind poetic device, how I dream of love and want to feel wanted. In the end, I am happy with the writer I am. I couldn't be any other way.
For those that follow these posts on my Twitter or Facebook, you may notice some differences between the original posts and what is shown below. I always do a little last minute editing before sending the blog.
Hope everyone enjoys. I'd love to read some feedback on the words, the themes, the intent...whatever you feel as a result of reading the fissures of my mind.
I stood there Staring up sincerely Wanting to play Romeo Juliet never came
Woke up in nightmare Empty room Foxes agitating elephants Decibels attempting to break psyche I power down
I didn't think of you Until exhaustion took control And sparks illuminated grey caverns Where your image was put to rest
Followed the ghost through hallowed passages cutting the city's core Headlights on red lights that disappeared in fog
Drove open interstate Baptized by September's crisp kiss and soulful sounds Reborn beneath midnight moon
Light's fragmented finger Races claps of thunder across a splintered sky As he navigates curves from nipple to button
At apex of sweaty exhaustion I heard it Everyday I'm shufflin' And I sounded my barbaric yelp FUCK THIS SONG
If I was a painter I would interpret this sky All haze grey With descending lemon sun displaying dominance
I danced in Summer End’s grey mist morning Floating through fog like Monet's lilies Felt air wrap around me like your arms once did
The salty-sweet nectar thinned by saliva The shallow breath tremble felt beneath palm The release in your eyes
Heard unexpected voice in sleep-eyed morning Semi-conscious Heart pounding Active cognition offers explanation
She sat silent Staring into black morning Hidden strangers Watch her sip coffee For the last time
I played her body like a virtuoso Caressing dissonant chords Creating tension and release The symphony of her breath
Her fingers rolled the worn ivory like a restless wave Manipulated the moment with introduction of ebony's minor fall
Chased crescent moon Weaving red river rapids World a blur of sound and wind My head Clear My heart Alive
Lips lost in shadows Nape of neck Beneath pale yellow glow of Gibbous Moon Exposed Wanting Tongue sears flesh
And I Cocooned by pillows and high thread count Could sleep for days with only your movie playing in my mind
Your eyes Speak with laughter and levity My eyes Listen with earnest and envy
Tangled fingers Release butterflies Awkwardness of slow-motion collision Flesh finding flesh for first time
I woke up so I could force myself to dream of you Your smile The tone of your voice in this created conversation
Your fingers that run my hair then trickle down my face Remind me of what it feels like to be connected To be happy
Your voice Reaching rafters Spirals softly downward Engulfs me Wraps me in emotions I thought long forgotten
Your belly Round with baby Removes all flaws
Heard whisper turn to roar Saw increased intensity with each illuminated demand Felt foundation shake at climax
You held hostage my dreams Captivated the current Forced the future Painted pictures so vivid My heart heard
I still remember how she looked in her summer dress Bare back and shoulders Exposing the art work the world rarely sees
I imagine your touch The placement of your head on my chest The sensation of holding you tighter as you succumb
I saw your slow spiral downward Once hanging from limb smiling at the sun Now floating on silent wind
Dance floor Illuminated by silver hue of midnight moon Our bodies Perfectly paired puzzle pieces moving as one
Your foreign touch feels familiar Shivers me with anticipation Produces shallow breath We move to midnight music
His mind plays tricks Descending to darkness when the world is absent sun Imagination controls night thoughts
I live in shadows of waking thought Riding fissures from limbic system to frontal lobe Holding close hope and aspirations
Aroused by April's brisk wind He stands at attention Receiving final orders Before permission to penetrate the fortress is granted
I lay beneath clouds so thick My cold soul could no longer feel sunshine Like when your smile went flat Your eyes empty
Fingers on hot flesh Silent shallow breath Lovers speak through their bodies
She slept Head on my chest I felt her dream Deep breaths Eyes fluttering She escaped nightmare By my embrace
Ghouls and goblins Ring doorbells with sugar-high fingers While werewolves stalk kittens Hoping for a late night snack
I have never been a huge fan of explaining my poetry. It's as if I have given a nicely wrapped present and blurted out the secret of its content before the final piece of tape is pulled. But this one isn't really shrouded in mystery, so I will just say this, it is an amazing time to be living in St. Louis.
I Love You when You Sleep
Black Borsalinos and trench coats Shuffle down sparsely populated sidewalks Youthful eyes of old ladies carrying yoga mats Agendas trickle down open highways Previously filled with turn signals and brake lights For some The final stop For others The first of many All motivated to get there To be there To move while the rest sleep They lay Behind locked doors Beneath ceiling fans Wrapped in wool and covered by down Dreaming of red birds and sheep Twitching to I, IV, V heartbeat Those high on the hill Wave their green, white, red Paying homage to heritage and sister city Southerners scar themselves in remembrance Wide open West Now cluttered with track housing and strip malls Bridges built to bring together Create barriers Lines of demarcation Fabricated fear surrounds the North Where children play with innocent smiles Unknowing But now Now they sleep Peaceful And the beauty of this moment is captured by those that see sunrise
I am kind of odd in that I am both a morning and a night person. It is mid-day and early evening that suck for me. I have definitely always had a special relationship with the morning, and that relationship is brought to its pinnacle when there is someone else to share it with.
I had just intended to create a #MicroPoetry this morning, but there were too many pieces to the image I was painting.
Reveille
Woke-up Chest to back My arm Beneath breasts Clutching ribs Your hands Beneath pillows in prayer pose Angelic Our lower trunks Flesh to flesh Both transuding and thickening Our legs Tangled root system Soft silken skin Woven through weathered limbs Your feet Cold Burrowed between mine and sheets Your hair Shrouding sleeping smile My white fringes Pop against purple pillow My lips find your lobe To whisper your reveille
Singer/Songwriter/Poet for So Much Closer. I genuinely love music more than most love life, without it I am a sad puppy with wet nose on cold glass watching my owners drive away.
