#MUSIC TALK

Hotel Print of a Daisy as Heard on TV

I paint darkness in layers of contemplative texture, shades of no thing from which all things arise. A great, mindless darkness forms the formless backdrop which takes up most of my canvases, and that which those whom live in shadows of unawareness experience as sorrow, un-stimulating, lulling sadness.

The entire purpose of painting all the darkness is to juxtapose and highlight the subject of all my paintings, that which cannot be contained in words is that towards which I’m always pointing.

Look CLOSER.

Instruments of My Enlightenment

They’re mindless cogs, locked doorways, dead ends in the maze of this life, where pain and rejection drastically alter trajectories. My aching unmet desires of the past had shown me my true desire, the true direction of life itself. Oh, the pain has been remarkable, but this stubborn being knows the only way he'd ever learn to fly is by falling

Welcome to Nashville, Fred Chopin

Nocturnes. That’s a sick title, brah. Hey, do you do Facebook? Check out my band, and give us a “like”. We’re called The Buttmother. It’s forward slash buttmother. Here's my card. We’re like post-ska-alt-prog, but it’s not slut-punk but like the backhand stuff more like post-modern-slut-punk. We’re playing Basement East this Tuesday

Pink Noise

If I told myself the story of a lunatic eternally battling the disparate polarities of existential meaning and meaninglessness who could never find peace within or without being beaten, eaten alive, kicked in or kicked out, arrested for noise or bombarded by noise, the story could only be told pathetically and desperately or beautifully and hilariously.

Nashville Nazis

We were forced to Google the definition of gentrification, out of embarrassment, after our keyboard player friend said it 5 times at Portland Brew, and then we truly understood. East Nashville used to be, what wikipedia referred to as “cultured." There were, like, black people, brown people and other shades of black people and brown people too. Apparently “culture” is why East Nashville used to be a desirable place to live, and without the melting pot, there was no longer any “culture.” We feel more compassionate now that we know that, and we're proud of ourselves for thinking about it for a few minutes before refilling our cafe mocha lattes and posting about how not racist we are on the Facetube.

I Like Trucks

Anyways, what’s so bad about 4th grade? 9th grade was the last grade I actually completed. I remember a lot of things I learned in 4th grade. My elementary school was on Versailles Drive, and the teachers taught us to pronounce it “Vur-Sales.” They also taught us that 'Monte Sano Mountain' was named by an Injun hoo said, "Monte, say no," and Robert E. Lee wun a hero war n planted a cottin jen dat freed all the neegros but now jooos cuntrole thu medea.