Waking Life Has Blurred the Lines

A Dream I Don’t Want To Forget

Sat, 14 Apr 2012 15:29:11 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

I just woke up from a dream so intense, frightening and complicated that I don’t even know that I can explain it. I feel the need to try to write it down so I don’t forget it.

First of all it was completely multi-layered. It was happening to me in real life, but it was also a book I was reading, a film I was in and a commentary on a DVD that Jodie Foster was giving with transitional lenses on that she couldn’t stop talking about in the studio. There were parts I would read in the book and it would send shivers down my spine and then seeing it play out in real life/the movie was even scarier and at times I would beg for it to stop.

Anyhow- in the dream there was a murderer on the loose. Somehow I was accused of the murders and knew the only way to prove it wasn’t me was going to be very difficult. The victims were somehow turned to ashes and placed in boxes. I knew that somehow if you shone a certain light on the boxes they would reconstitute and the people would come back to life, but only I knew this.

At some point I put all of these boxes of ashes and evidence into these giant crates that I was having shipped to the police. At the same time they were after me so I was hoping they would get the evidence before they would catch me. I had already constituted a little boy back to life with the strange light – it was like a wand you would wave over the ashes. This was how I discovered the secret. Still – for some reason I had to freeze the boy and put him in a large box. I was then in a car, driving as fast as I could to the police station. I couldn’t see over the steering wheel or get any control over the car. I swerved off the road and had an accident. Moments like these were when I was most aware that this was also a movie I was in. I was suddenly at the premiere, watching the movie instead of being an actor in it. Even though this was something I was aware of, I was still very afraid and most of it felt like it was real life. I fear I am making no sense but I will continue…

After the car had the accident I was thrown very far from it. When I got back to the car I realized that the government had stolen the frozen boy and he was no longer in the crate I had sealed him in. I found the open crate in a tunnel under a mountain pass. I was racing to get to a courthouse where I knew my other evidence was shipped because I had the only light wand that would re-animate everyone the murderer had killed. I also knew that when the very last victim was re-animated, the murderer himself would turn to ashes. Suddenly, there was a flood. I knew this was not good.

I got to the courthouse and it was covered in water. I waded through it the best I could. Police officers found me and arrested me. I was trying to explain about the light wand but they thought I was crazy and locked me up. I was begging and pleading for them to believe me, crying hysterically. They would not. I knew that someone would figure it out. Instantly I was in a room with many people who were going through the crates I had had delivered there. There were cassette tapes and notebooks, all chronicling the murderer’s vicious crimes. I remembered this part from when I read the book and knew it was about to get scary.

I was in a panic to get to the actual boxes of ashes that were everywhere within the larger crates FULL of other things. I was pulling them out as fast as I could. I re-animated one person and everyone was stunned, but I explained there was no time for that – we needed to hurry! I told them to take the wand and keep going – I knew where the murderer was because I could read his mind and thoughts. I explained that most of the time I had to shut out his thoughts because they were so violent and evil that I could not handle it, but now I must tap in so we could find him. I advised that we were all still in great danger. We might find him but he could easily overtake us.

I went out onto the side of a desert mountain with officers in tow. There were dead, dry roots of trees everywhere that were hard to navigate. I could feel the murderer’s thoughts. He knew we were after him and he was scared. He couldn’t understand his own motivation to kill. I was also still aware that the boxes of ashes back at the courthouse were being re-animated as quickly as they could. I needed them to get to the last victim so that the murderer would turn to ashes. Suddenly he was close to me. I sensed it. The hairs on the back on my neck stood up and I was very afraid. I was begging not to see this part as I had already read the book and I was too scared to see him. There was no escaping it. There he was – looking unkempt and homeless. His eyes were dark and evil. But he was saying, over and over again “I am not bad! It is not me! I am not bad! Please! I am not bad!” I knew that even though he was desperately pleading with both the officers and himself, he could not help his instincts and would kill me if he got to me. He was pleading with me but he was also after me.

I ran. I was climbing over tree roots and going higher and higher up the mountain. He was gaining on me. I sensed the victims re-animating back at the courthouse one by one. I screamed loudly for the officers to get to us as soon as they could. I was in a panic! The murderer caught up to me and I looked in his eyes. This was it. No more running. He was crying and I felt a very intense wave of his sadness and self-hatred wash over me. I burst into tears and told him that I knew he did not want to be this way, he could not help it. He told me he still had to kill me because it was “the way it was destined.” He came closer and closer. My heart was racing. I screamed for the people to re-animate the last victim. I knew they could psychically hear me. The killer reached out for my neck and just as his fingers closed around it he turned to ashes right at my feet.

Thank goodness at this point I was simply at the premiere of the movie and the audience was clapping. The director, Jodie Foster and I all took a bow. I walked out into the lobby and saw posters everywhere for the film with me and Jodie on them. And then I woke up.

The Land of Dreams

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 14:27:24 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

All my life I have had very vivid dreams and nightmares that I can generally recall in great detail. I once read that the average adult has only one nightmare per year. I am lucky to only have 5 or 6 a week! I think there must be some sort of connection between my natural inclination to be creative and my dream world. I feel that the part of my brain where the composing comes from is the same part that creates these brilliant and often bizarre dream scenarios.

Just this morning I dreamed I was on a beach somewhere with a resort hotel behind me. I was setting up gear on a large stage. I was supposed to perform a 45 minute set, but I had been asked to extend that to 75 minutes and I was nervous. Everything was going fine in sound check and people started coming out and filling up the patio tables that were spread out in front of the stage. I remember seeing turquoise ribbons floating through the air that I knew were a new kind of salt-water taffy that you could simply pull from the air and eat and it tasted like passion fruit.

It was time for the show to begin. I launched into a very intricate piano intro in G flat Major, one of my favorite keys. When I went to start the track (which was in the keyboard and not my laptop) it was at measure 37 from sound check. Oops. Everything began to unravel. Suddenly the microphone was at a strange angle behind me and I could not reach the pedal. I was twisting all around, trying to find a way to play properly. I realized the only way to sing into the mic was to have my back to the audience. This would not do. I was feeling the flop sweat that performers know well.

All of this is fairly normal and as a performer I have dreams like this often. Not sure of what to do, I suddenly realized that my phone was buzzing and I looked and had a text from my sister. I told the audience that I had a surprise for them while they waited for us to deal with the logistical issues. My sister walked through the front door with a baby whale in her arms. I said “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Whale Joy Henderson!” Everyone was oohing and aahing over the little baby whale named Whale Joy Henderson. I was too busy moving my gear around to pay much attention but I knew I wanted to see the whale later.

That dream is not even the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my dreams. Even as a child I had very vivid dreams and I can still recall many of them. I had a recurring nightmare as a child of a very scary man who looked like Gene Shalit. Let’s face it, Gene Shalit in 1981 could be scary to a child. This man was very sinister and mean. He rode on a very loud motorcycle that scared the living daylights out of me. The biggest problem was that he could become invisible so you never knew where he might be. I would be walking around my front yard and he would suddenly materialize right next to me. Sometimes I would only feel his breath on my neck and turn and he’d be right behind me, staring at me with cold, dark eyes. Frightening to me even now as I type this!

The only defense against this evil man was to pretend you were a statue. There would be many of us in my yard, all pretending to be little cherub statues so this man would think we were not real. In one incarnation of this dream I walked into my yard to see the motorcycle. I noticed that the seat was flapping up and down and knew that meant he had just gotten off of it and must be invisible somewhere near. I tried to become a statue but just as I assumed a pose, his arm grabbed mine and he materialized again. Terrifying!

So yes, that was a dream I had 31 years ago and I can still see it clear as day in my mind. The dream world is an amazing place. I both relish and fear my own. I would not trade it for anything, even if the nightmares can be just as awful as the good dreams can be good.

Remind me to tell you about the “Rosanne Cash slot machines in a casino dream” sometime…

New Album Release Date

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 18:53:45 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

The next record, my first “regular” record since Myth & Stars, is called The Calling of the Crows. I have posted some details about it before, but I now have a release date scheduled.

It will be available digitally in my Bandcamp store on Wednesday May 16, 2012.

In the coming weeks I will be getting the photos and artwork together as well as doing the things that need to be done to set it up, including the final mixdown.

There is a personal angle to this release date in that it was my cat Henry’s observed birthday. I never knew when he was actually born, but I knew it had to be about mid-May so I chose the 16th since my birthday is the 16th of October. Much of this record is about my life after losing him, but of course as always I kept things universal enough that anyone can apply it to their own life in many ways. It is always my goal to make music that people can apply to themselves while still expressing myself in a fulfilling way. I think it has succeeded in that regard and I am very excited about releasing it!

Videos may also be happening for a few songs! Speaking of: here is the home-made video I recently made for The Blackest Crow which is from the album The Parting Glass. The Parting Glass is a collection of traditional folk songs, a follow-up to 2006′s The Sun is Burning. Please consider purchasing it if you haven’t already. The support of my listeners directly affects my ability to keep making music and keep myself fed! Thanks in advance.

Recording A Cover: A Live Webcast Event

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 19:02:39 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

This Thursday, March 29, 2012, I will finally be doing something that people have been asking me to do for years. I will be recording a cover live on UStream. It will just be a “fly on the wall” kind of thing where I’ll let my laptop webcam stream what is going on (it will also be recorded for those who can’t catch it live.). I will not plug in the pro audio or anything, just the internal mic picking up what is going on in the room.

Over the years, many people have asked me to do a podcast or webcast showing my recording process so I am finally going to do it.

I will be recording Gotye’s Save Me. I may get some of the elements of the track ready in advance so everyone doesn’t have to sit and watch the really boring early stages. You will be able to watch me putting the track together and then layering in the background vocals, etc. I think it will be a lot of fun.

So join me on my UStream channel this Thursday at 4 PM EDT (GMT -4).

The Parting Glass

Tue, 13 Mar 2012 15:09:52 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

I have been working on a new album of traditional folk songs, a follow-up to 2006′s The Sun is Burning. I enjoy singing traditional folk music. It is a way to pay tribute to my heritage and also to the lineage of singer-songwriters. I chose songs this time with many factors in mind. I wanted to challenge myself and also acknowledge the last year of loss and grief I have experienced. I think I succeeded on both counts. In the end I ended up singing in English, French, Scots Gaelic and Irish Gaelic. It was quite fun and daunting at the same time! I also set an abridged version of Edgar Alan Poe’s The Raven to music. Even abridged to 13 verses it comes in at 11:23!

So the record is called The Parting Glass and will be out Thursday or Friday. Here is the track listing:

Casey Stratton
The Parting Glass

1. Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded
2. Scarborough Fair
3. Au Clair De La Lune
4. Wild Mountain Thyme
5. ‪Siúil A Rúin‬
6. Le Temps Des Cerises
7. Raglan Road
8. Tha Caolas Eadar Mi ‘s Iain
9. The Blackest Crow
10. The Raven
11. The Parting Glass

New Album Details

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 16:51:36 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Over the past few weeks I have written and recorded a new album. I am not exactly sure when I will release it. It could be as soon as a few weeks or as late as the early summer. Logistics and planning are still in the beginning stages. However – I wanted to share some details now so here is the tracklisting:

Casey Stratton – The Calling of the Crows

1.   The Bitter Truth
2.   When the Fates Came
3.   Ghosts in the Walls
4.   Second Life
5.   Tears That Know Your Name
6.   Sacred Tattoo
7.   Waiting
8.   The Roads of Time
9.   Wait By the Water
10. Mile Markers
11. Elegy
12. Wanderlust

I will keep everyone posted as to when it is coming out!

Inhabiting A Composition

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 15:00:07 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

“I consider the first 20 performances just learning the piece. Think about it this way: If you think about a pianist who plays a Schubert sonata through his whole lifetime — if you listen to Rubenstein or Horowitz playing their repertoire later in their life, you understand the richness with which they play that music, and how differently they must have played it when they were younger. … I think it’s only after about 20 performances that we begin to understand what the dynamic structure of the piece is.”

—	Philip Glass on repetition

I read this quote on Tumblr this morning and it made a lot of sense to me. Phillip Glass turned 75 yesterday so the internet was abuzz with links, stories and quotes. This one in particular spoke to me in a specific way.

As a songwriter who now has a home studio (I bought mine in October 2002 so it has been nearly 10 years) I tend to record songs just as they are written. In the old days I’d have to wait weeks to months to get in a studio and record songs so I tended to have played them more often before the immortal recording was executed (yes, I am aware of the paradox of my word choice there.). Yet now it is more likely that the recording you hear is the very first rendering of the new song. You could argue for or against this for artistic reasons, but for the sake of this blog I will focus solely on this being ‘the way it is’ and how a song changes once you start playing it live.

I find that when I play live shows and start adding new songs in, they begin to take on a new shape. This begins in rehearsal so I know it is not merely the adrenaline rush of an audience influencing it. This is where Mr. Glass’ quote got my attention. I knew exactly what he meant. Dynamics tend to emerge that were not my original intent, per se. It will just feel like it wants to go where it goes. And generally once I find a particular phrasing or change to the original dynamic pleasing to me, I will play the song that way from then on. I can listen to early live recordings of songs only played a few times and the dynamics will be different every time as I am finding my way into it, but later recordings will almost always have the same dynamics. This is not to say that the performance is always the same or that I never stray in any way – part of the beauty of live performing is going where the musical wind takes you – but the gist will nearly always stay the same. The songs seem to find their groove and finally nestle into their true structures. Again – I call it “what they really want.”

This is also the key to being a good producer. The songs “know what they want” if you pay attention. Your job is to try to make that happen. Using your tools properly will get you off the ground, but your instincts will kick in and tell you what is or is not working. If it feels off to you, it will most likely feel off to others. If you are not happy with it, you should change direction. You can adjust basically any song to any style preference or aesthetic, but it will know what it wants in each genre you choose.

Back to performing your own songs though, I find that there is a very fulfilling feeling when a song finds its groove. I have a song called Hollow that has seen many incarnations, but the piano/vocal live version has taken on a life of its own over the years, and it feels like an old friend now. I don’t play it a lot, but when I do it’s because I am really wanting the comfort of the space it’s in now.

I may sound silly personifying songs, but most composers feel that our compositions are an extension of ourselves as well as some sort of communion with whatever is out there in the universe or great beyond. I don’t need it to have a name, I just know it when I feel it. And I do personify them often because they are organic things, capable of growth. They breathe and change. They are fluid. You can speed them up and slow them down, make them lighter, make them darker. A subtle shift can change the way it’s heard dramatically. I find this to be very exciting!

In the end, it is quite the intimate journey to get to know your own work. How often have writers gone back to their words and thought “Oh so THAT’S what I was really talking about!” Lyrics do that to me all the time. I’ll read them years later and the light bulb comes on. The music can and does do the same thing. Sometimes I’ll hear something in the production that is so perfectly fitting to the lyric of a song, yet was completely unintentional when I did it. Of course, you can then regale your friends with the tales of your brilliance and they’ll never know it was a complete accident. Seriously though, we know the subconscious mind works in complex ways and it is interesting to see it in action in a composition, performance or production.

Playing other people’s work takes many attempts to work out, to find the subtleties. It is no different with our own. In some ways it can be even harder to be objective. People ask me for advice about writing and performing all the time, and I almost always say the same thing. I think it applies here as well: Get out of your own way.

Harnessing Inspiration -or- Tilting At Windmills

Wed, 11 Jan 2012 16:44:31 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Inspiration is something that every writer in every medium knows well, and yet many of us feel we barely know it at all. Understanding it is surely an exercise in futility. There are days, months or years when it is everywhere and racing around our minds, and just as many times when it is nowhere to be found for no apparent reason. This is one reason that writing on a timetable can be hard for some people. Harnessing inspiration is a key to being a successful writer, of songs or otherwise. I’ll focus on songwriting and composing music as that is what I do.

I keep finding that the more records I make and the more songs I write, the more I push myself to find different and interesting inspiration for material. I accepted long ago that my niche is to write honestly about human relationships. Not the most groundbreaking thing to ever happen, but I am only one of a long line of musicians who follow this tradition. Again though, even when I am putting my music in that perspective I find that I need to have more subtext these days. Whether it’s to challenge myself, to expand my range or to avoid repetition is beside the point really but it is for all of those reasons. I firmly believe that a good and authentic artist will follow his or her own path, which is why the reasons don’t really matter. It is not ‘why,’ but ‘how’ that matters when creativity is concerned.

Inspiration can muck you up if you’re not careful. Too much of a good thing and you have gilded the lily. Too many ingredients can ruin the dish. Being an artist sometimes means you have a mess going on inside your mind, and some fall victim to this or use it as an excuse for getting nothing accomplished. But when being creative is your career and your living, this is not something you can really get away with most of the time. So how do you harness everything in your head? I often say that it is instinctual to me, and it is, but that doesn’t mean there is no effort involved in the organization of ideas. I put a lot of effort into that. So here’s a little insight into that process:

When I begin to think about a new project, my mind goes a million different places. Will there be an overall theme or concept? What will it sound like? What production style or production motifs am I interested in? What is “gelling” with me right now? Eventually I am going to have to choose a direction and begin writing and recording. This does not mean that the record won’t change as I go, but I try to have some sort of consistency in mind. This does NOT mean that everything will sound the same or that the average listener will even pick up on that. But for me it’s important to create some sort of structure, even if the structure is chaos.

The easiest way to explain this process is probably to talk about what I am thinking of now, for the very next record of mine. I don’t know exactly how they will figure in yet, but the inspirations that have emerged for me are crows, Erik Satie and Bertolt Brecht. As far as Brecht goes, I am focusing a lot on his idea that sometimes the protagonist will be punished for doing the right thing. That he does not punish some of his characters for their flaws but for their strengths. In life, there are storms that will roll into our lives no matter what we do. Doing the right thing (whatever that means to each of us) does not guarantee happiness, but I do believe it helps us to enjoy our happier times more. Anyway – that is going to factor in. Not sure how yet, but it’s there. It has become a focus area. And this is what I mean about harnessing inspiration. As a project or song becomes clearer, you begin to narrow your focus a bit.

Ok – crows. I watched the PBS Nature episode on crows a year or two ago, and I was fascinated. The more I learned about their intelligence, family structures and ability to form multi-step plans the more I was blown away by them. I had never really given them much thought outside of their symbolism in other artistic works. They develop complex family units, with extended family as well, and they stick together. They even have funerals for the fallen. I still don’t quite know how they will factor in, but I keep the idea in the back of my mind and trust that when the right time comes the light bulb will turn on and in it will go. The more I have, well I guess the word is obsessed, over crows the more I find little clues along the way. Small “coincidences” that lead me to believe that the idea is worth keeping on the back burner until I begin the actual writing process. I find myself listening to them in my yard and talking to them when I am outside. Call it what you will, but I enjoy it! The ones in my yard get especially chatty around 5 PM, perhaps something to do with rush hour providing more threats to them or something. Anyway – I have even recorded them for use on the record.

Where Erik Satie is concerned, I am mostly inspired by his musical structures so I know that they will inform me in the composing process. But I am also reading a biography about him and am finding that his non-conformist attitude is something I resonate with. For many years he did not get the credit he deserves for how much he pushed the envelope and informed the music of today. I think a modern-day songwriter can learn a lot from his structures and philosophies. Especially since he enjoyed the idea of simpler themes that are OK to repeat or scarcely deviate from throughout a piece. Accessible songwriters know this can be a valuable thing. Like I often say, “Sometimes if it’s pretty I just want to stick with it for 3 minutes and that’s OK.” A lot of his music is like that too and I imagine him doing the same thing; sitting at the piano, coming up with a riff and just playing it over and over. When I come up with a song idea I like, I will sometimes just sit there and play it for 30 minutes or more! Why not? It has to begin to etch itself into your consciousness, to inhabit you. That helps.

In the end, all these ideas will inform the output, but not necessarily in a heavy-handed way. By harnessing the inspirations, a current will run through the work and help to propel it forward. Of course, every artist is different so finding how to harness your own inspiration is something you must learn to do for yourself. ‘Know thyself,’ as they say. When something works, you know it works. Everyone’s process is different, but I will always recommend looking at everything, feeling everything and then reining it in to something you can work with. Is this always the case? Of course not. Sometimes you can be wildly inspired and bouncing off the walls and create something genius.

Writing and creating is an amazing experience, and we will all find ourselves on many paths. Again – do what works, but learn while it’s working.

Writing For Your Audience

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 19:47:29 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

“When I speak of the gifted listener, I am thinking of the non-musician primarily, of the listener who intends to retain his amateur status. It is the thought of just such a listener that excites the composer in me.” – Aaron Copland

I feel exactly this way as a composer and songwriter. This quote from one of our most accomplished American composers reminds me that the ultimate goals of the modern-day songwriter must include writing for your audience. Now, I also fully believe that the number one goal is to write for yourself. These things can co-exist because guess what: You are part of your own audience.

People sometimes ask me if I listen to my own work. Oh yes, I do! Often. I completely understand why some artists record an album and never play it again, finding the experience over and done with. I am not this way, however. I want to make the kind of music that I want to listen to. Making an album is wonderful because it is lasting. Unlike a live performance, a record is a great palette for working and re-working a song, for taking the tweezers to things and really pushing for the best possible sounds and performances. However, one must also know when to say “This is done.” Nothing will ever be perfect. Learning where to draw your own lines with imperfections is key. Let’s just take auto-tuning out of the equation since I am talking about true singer-songwriters here. Good music, real music, will contain imperfections. It is what makes us resonate with it.

I have digressed. I do think that writing for yourself is a wonderful way to make your work accessible to others. When you write about your own experiences, while taking care to be somewhat universal in your lyrical approach, listeners will gravitate to the honesty, the authenticity. This has been my experience. We have all experienced similar trials, tribulations, joys, exhilaration. They don’t call it “The Human Condition” for nothing.

When it comes to successful songwriting, as with all composing in my opinion, you must somehow find the balance between always thinking and staying out of your own way at the exact same time. When I was young, I studied and studied and then I studied some more. I learned everything I could about music and then recording. I am still learning. We must always continue to research and learn. It helps our craft. I had a good friend who was an engineer, so I asked him to teach me everything he could. I became his apprentice. I did not like walking into a recording studio and finding everyone was speaking a language I did not understand. I knew early on I wanted to produce so I needed this knowledge to communicate my ideas.

The point is: you must study long enough that music theory, lyric writing techniques and sound engineering become second nature. If those skills are in your toolbox, you can access them as you are writing and recording without even thinking about it too consciously. This opens up the creative side of your brain immensely. The amount of artistic choices you have when you have all this information is priceless.

In the end a good songwriter should know a lot about music and recording, but will hopefully be writing for the gifted listener. There is a time and a place for abstract and complicated music. Of course there is. Still – my favorite moments as a recording artist and performer come when someone tells me how a song helped them through a hard time, was a song they played at their wedding or is a song in their top 10 of all time. It is very gratifying. Inspiration should inspire others. Music should tell not only your story, but OUR story.

Letter to Henry #2

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 07:40:19 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

December 21, 2011

My dearest Henry,

It has been 5 months and one week since you died. It does not feel like it has been that long, and yet the days and nights have stretched out in front of me like desert highways. I think about you all the time. Literally not one hour passes that I don’t. Now the holidays are here and with them comes the longing and pensiveness I was fully expecting. My first Christmas without you. I have had a lot of firsts since losing you, and none of them have been easy. I was always so afraid of what would happen when you died. But at the same time I only seemed to focus on the actual event and initial aftermath. I underestimated how much I would be permanently changed, and how long I would be grieving. Now I have come to understand that I will be grieving forever.

Those first few weeks were awful. It was so unbearably hot out. I kept thinking I was glad you were not here because you would have been miserable and dehydrated. My thinking could not shift out of taking care of you. I had just spent so many months being hyper-vigilant, always ready to give you what you needed. I would do it a hundred more times. A million. There was never any question that I would. But when it was “over” I realized that I was not ready for the restlessness of no longer playing that role. My grief was raw and it echoed against the walls of emptiness I was trapped inside. I was also so busy with commitments I had foolishly made thinking that since they were local and did not require traveling, they would be OK. I had so much to do, and we both know that the show has to go on. Giving bad performances would have upset me and would not have been a fitting tribute to you. So I put you into everything I did.

I played the Meijer Gardens one week after you died. I had wanted to play there for so long, but it was bittersweet. It was over 90 degrees, so the heat alone was a major obstacle. I played Landslide for you that night. I told the audience about you before I played it and I broke down for a second. I couldn’t believe I did that. I looked up at the clouds behind the grassy hill as I sang it. I still look up at the sky and think of you, out there somewhere looking over me. I see Jupiter in the night sky and I blow you a kiss every time.

It has become harder and harder for me to easily access the feeling of you when I look at the sky now. I know this is a normal part of the grieving process, but I don’t like it. I resist it. The cynic in me feels there is no point in thinking there is an afterlife any longer when I feel like that. I start to tell myself that you are simply gone. Forever. Then I panic and the agnostic in me kicks in and reassures me that I am feeling normal things, but your soul is always and forever with me in some way. It’s just that my sadness was on the surface and easy to access for so long, that as it moves toward where it needs to move I grieve for the grieving. Again…all normal.

I HATE when people tell me that you would not want me to grieve or that my sadness is somehow not appropriate to celebrate you. How could I not feel like this? We were together for so long. Every day. So many years, cities, experiences. It was like you and me against the world. You were there through all the failures and all the successes. My relationship with you held me together more than I ever knew. Thank you for that. I know it was a two-way street. I am absolutely certain of it. It is because of this that I am so lost so often. I can’t find my balance. I can’t find my footing. I want to, but it is going to take as long as it takes.

Your ashes are now in a marble box on the mantle in the bedroom. It says “Henry 1995-2011 Now and Forever.” The company I ordered it from got it wrong twice! You KNOW I was mad! I’m sure you can picture me ranting, pacing around the house.

June will still perk up if I mention you to her. I try not to do it too often as I fear she will think you are coming back. I don’t want to manipulate her to make myself feel better. She has really been quite comforting through all of this. She has become even more cuddly in your absence, and I think you would be happy about that. Everyone was somber for a few weeks. It was very quiet around here. It still feels strange, somehow wrong. You are everywhere and yet nowhere to be found.

I know I may sound really negative. I don’t mean to be. It’s not your fault. This is a natural part of life. This is what happens. I get that. My heart just aches, and my soul pleads, and I need to acknowledge it. I still relive that last day over and over again. I remember telling June “OK, this is your last chance,” and she walked right over to you and licked your head. I wanted to fall apart right then but knew I needed to stay strong until it was over. I still wonder how on Earth I possibly made it through that day. I had to be strong to do what was best. I had to be humane enough to break my own heart. As much as I hate having those memories, I am also happy to have them. I am glad I have no guilt about knowing it was the right time. I am glad I did not come home to find you gone. I probably would have worried you suffered unnecessarily. It happened as it was meant to, I know this. I will never forget one moment of that day. I play it over and over in my mind.

The seasons have changed and that has also been strange. Part of me wants to hold on to something, anything, and when time so visibly moves along I push against it. 2012 is almost here and with it I am hoping for a year of change. I will find joy. I must. I will always hold onto our bond and I will always find you in the joy. I will move on to other things and you will not be there. That will be OK. I have to allow myself to move on in the ways I can. I will never fully move on. That is a ridiculous concept, impossible.

I dream about you often. Sometimes I don’t even remember them but I know I did as sure as I know the sun rises. Some have been wonderful, some painful. I can usually distinguish between actual visits from you and my mind working through something. Sometimes I wonder if I am full of it to think that, but in the end it gives me comfort so I don’t care. The thought of that NOT being true is too scary. I also sometimes worry that I am being sad for too long. I talk about it a lot and I don’t always feel that anyone is getting it. That is only because our grief in life is so singular. It’s like we get trapped in a prison and no one else can quite get in there. Only I know the colors of that place. Only I know what’s in my heart and words can’t describe it. I can’t compare it to anything.

Speaking of words not being enough, of course I have found that the easiest way for me to feel you is through music. Not surprising. A certain chord progression can play and my heart breaks. It speaks what I cannot say. Language is nothing compared to what music can explain. Many times I find I suddenly need to play the things that remind me of you. I call it “going to the Russians.” That’s because a few weeks after you died I found myself listening to a lot of Russian composers and said “Well duh…if you want some sweeping, exposed sadness you have to go the Russians.” I laughed that it took me that long to think of it. Those guys know how to do it!

There have been a few “He was only a cat” people out there. I don’t care. You were family and I understand that. How could I be with you every day for sixteen years and not be that attached? Not how I am wired. I am happy for that. You and I knew such love, had so many moments. I have so many memories of so many places and events. I have so many memories of waking up with you sleeping next to me. One day I was missing you napping with me on the couch, with your head on my shoulder, so much that I almost grabbed the can of almonds next to me and slept with it! Don’t worry though, I didn’t. I don’t think I can be comforted by almonds.

I have so many memories of you purring without me even having to touch you, just speaking to you was enough. You were always just so content to be near me, to go where I went. That was more of a comfort than I even knew. It is unfortunate that sometimes we don’t know what we have when we have it. We think we do, but we don’t. What an amazing boy you were. There will never be another you. I was very lucky that we found one another when we did. Very lucky.

Well…I’ve gone on and on again. I just needed to write you again. It helps me process things. What a process it is. Thank you for everything you were and everything you are still. Thank you for gracing the first sixteen years of my adult life with such warmth and caring. It gives me faith.

I miss you. So much. More than I can possibly say.

Now and forever,
Daddy

Dream Recall

Wed, 26 Oct 2011 17:25:58 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. Please leave any comments there.

I just woke from a dream that I don’t want to forget so I am going to write it down here.

I am certain the dream began sooner than I can remember, because my memory of it begins in a moment that feels “in progress.” I was in an airport, going up and down these escalators. This is significant to me because of a very real-feeling experience of some sort of “afterlife” that I once had when I was very ill. I was on a series of escalators and moving walkways and I could just float up and down onto different levels of a very vast place. I am just realizing the correlation as I am typing this. Whether it was real or not is irrelevant to me.

Anyhow – in this dream I was in this airport, but I hadn’t gone through security yet. My flight had been delayed for 2 nights in a row. It was the only flight each day to where I needed to go. I was watching TV screens everywhere in the airport that were detailing some sort of event that I knew was the reason my flight wasn’t leaving. I saw a flight attendant across the way and yelled “What are the chances of the flight leaving tonight?” She said “Not great but you never know! Even if it does leave tonight there will not be enough seats for everyone.” I decided not to go through security just yet since it didn’t seem I would go anywhere anytime soon.

Next thing I knew I was in a long hallway – kind of like how a baggage claim area is in a large airport. People were everywhere. I suddenly had this big cat-like, raccoon-like animal come toward me and I knew him instantly. I could control his movements and behavior by speaking to him. I just knew this information. I said “Move over here!” He did. People were clapping and amazed. I didn’t care. I had him come to me. He jumped up onto my shoulder. Instantly he was a baby boy. I was holding him and moving through the hallway. I came into an area with vending machines, but there was a line of people all waiting to get whatever was in them. I was talking to someone when I realized the baby was on some guy’s back who was waiting in the line. I called for him to return to me, but suddenly he would not respond to my commands. I grabbed him back from the man and I knew something was wrong. The man had a certain look on his face that made me cautious. I looked at the baby and his eyes were rolling around in his head. I yelled “What did you give him! I NEED to know what you gave him so I can tell the doctors!” The baby began vomiting blood all over me. It was all over my glasses.

Suddenly the baby fused into my body and I could feel the effects of whatever drug this was come into my consciousness. I ran through a doorway, and what was before the long hallway of the baggage claim was now a long passageway of doors. I called to a police officer to help me but he exclaimed “I can’t help you! All the doors are locked except one and you know he won’t let me help you.” I knew who “he” was right away even though this character had not been in the dream yet at this point. I was frantic, running through and trying different doors. I found one that opened and stepped into a room that was like a big coat check area. There were rows of hangers around the perimeter of the room. In came a man with glasses on from another door on the other side of the room. I could see a desk, a “waiting room” of sorts through the doorway as he walked in. This was “him.” I knew he was “the boss” and I was both afraid of him and filled with anger and violent feelings toward him.

The man came toward me and said “You know what happens now. 120 seconds.” He had a whip in his hand. He started slowly swinging it toward me. I instantly knew that the drug that was given to the baby and then passed into me was some sort of super-strength thing and this was part of it. I said “I won’t do it.” He replied “After you feel this whip hit you a few times, you’ll change your mind. All these years, no one has ever been hit too many times before they fight back. Even my girls (I knew there were 2 of them and they were his daughters.). 120 seconds.” I grabbed the glasses off his face, ripped them in half and proceeded to stomp on them with my boot. He was unfazed. The whip was cracking and I felt it pierce through the skin on my back. Instinctively my arm reached out and grabbed the whip, the man still holding onto it. I knew I had the strength to pull hard enough to take him down. I knew I could kill him if I wanted to. I knew this had to go on, this showdown, for 2 minutes. Our communication became telepathic at this point:

“I could kill you right now.”

“Yes, but you won’t. You know you won’t. You remember now. You know what this is.”

“But I won’t give you what you want this time.”

“Oh you will. Or you will ruin the experiment and you know you don’t want to do that.”

When I heard that in my mind I felt a sinister chill come over me. I knew this was something big, something dark. I knew I had no choice in it. I was part of it whether I liked it or not. I remembered those girls, his daughters. I remembered them before and after. I remembered knowing for years that my time would come. It was here. The animal that turned into the baby that fused into me was ME all along. Everything that had happened was a sign, but I missed them all. I should have known! I should have remembered! I could have stopped it! But I knew I couldn’t have. I knew it was pointless to fight against it.

Then the hangers on one end of the room had robes hanging from them all. Different colored robes. A peace came over me. I understood that part of the experiment was that my mind could grasp complex information, but the side effect was the super-strength. That power needed to be harnessed so I wouldn’t hurt people. The “mind side” feeling was so peaceful, yet the “physical side” was capable of great violence. I looked over at the man, the leader, the scientist. He smiled at me. I woke up.

So yeah – intense. I knew right away I didn’t want to forget that one. Sorry for any clumsy writing, but I wanted to get it down while it was fresh in my mind. My super-human mind! *laughs*

The Garden

Wed, 26 Oct 2011 17:25:44 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. Please leave any comments there.

Yesterday I released The Garden EP for the first time, even though it was recorded ten years ago. There are more than a few reasons.

First of all, there are the technical reasons. I recorded it with Pro Tools Free and an iMac with a $50 mic that I literally held in my hand as I sang. After recording non-stop for nearly four years I abruptly stopped in 1999 and did not record again for over two and a half years. This was not something I was happy about. In fact, it has been the only time in my 16 year professional recording career that such a long break existed between recordings. At the end of my days with Rondor Publishing in 1999, they decided they did not like much of the work coming in (including House of Jupiter which they said was crap so what the fuck did they know?). Therefore the edict came down that I would have to come in to their offices and play each song for them piano/vocal style before they would green light a measly $500 recording session (Whirlwind Medusa was recorded with this budget for EVERY. SINGLE. SONG. Not a ton to work with, but I did.) Being the good little rebel that I was/am, I simply never recorded another note for them. I was offended and rightly so in my opinion. Honestly I think they did not realize how prolific I would be and didn’t want to pay for any more sessions. Telling me my output was bad was not the best way to achieve this where our working relationship was concerned.

I digress…I moved to Chicago in August of 2000 completely obliterated by the L.A. music scene. I had gone up very slowly and down very quickly, which is usually the way it goes. I had everything going for me and then it all crashed down the minute the company realized I was not an “easy A” kind of artist. This has since become a familiar tale in my career. If executives have to actually brainstorm and think instead of vacationing and putting you through some formula that worked before (I sense the problem with this, why don’t they?) they tend to give up on you and subsequently blame it all on you and your work. For years you are told how much they love what you are doing, but if it doesn’t work it is almost always because you’re “just not what people want” or “it’s just not good enough.”

So I was out of business. I was waiting tables, then working in a cat shelter, then waiting tables again. I rarely, if ever, told anyone I was a musician. My outward performer side went from center stage to non-existent. I wrote and wrote and wrote, but did not perform or record. I had very little money (another motif of mine) so I had no way to afford recording equipment even though I desperately wanted it. I got an iMac from a friend in August of 2001 and could finally record with a shabby set-up, but hey it was better than nothing.

Whenever I need to learn new recording setups I prefer to just record something. It is the best way. Just dive in and go for it. I usually do something like an EP – a side project – so it’s something I can just throw out if it’s garbage. I began writing some songs for an EP that I had decided would be based on the Garden of Eden story. As an Agnostic I call this mythology. Some may disagree with that assessment but we will save that for another time. This story of Adam, Eve and The Serpent is so pervasive in our Western culture that I wanted to explore it creatively. I had about 3 tracks started with no lyrics written or anything when…..

September 11, 2001……..

Needless to say 9/11 was a before and after moment in that I was never the same after it happened. I am nowhere near alone in that, I know. I wasn’t sure how to process what had happened. I was 24, living alone and I just felt lost and gutted. I decided the best way forward was to keep creating (another familiar concept in my life) so I dove back into the Garden of Eden project. I thought for a minute that I might change the narrative as, like I said, no lyrics had been written yet. In the end I decided to stay with my original concept for a few reasons. I am superstitious about things like that. I feel that when I am inspired I should honor it. I also felt that there were some correlations to explore. While religion can be a beautiful thing, faith in particular, it can also produce horrific violence. Throughout history millions have been killed in the name of one religion or another. In our Western society, much has been done in the name of Christianity and it all goes back to Eve and the apple. Having the woman take the fall so often is another thing I don’t care for in many myths, but we’ll also save that for another time.

I didn’t want to only explore the destruction that religion can produce. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s part of it. I also wanted to simply explore the fantasy elements of it all. The origins of humanity and our first expulsion out of paradise, in this particular story. The “fall from grace” moment that our societies weave into so much, in an effort to explain and understand our failings.

So…I kept going. I made music. I experimented with sonics. It was my first time using digital recording as opposed to tape so I could reverse things and apply effects and flip them back around, etc. It was a new world for me as an engineer and producer, and it was a new world for me as an American. I didn’t want to be heavy-handed about 9/11 in it. It was too soon or trite or something. But I wanted to try to translate my inner turmoil into something.

For ten years I held onto it. It was too close. It wasn’t recorded on very good equipment. Everyone and their brother has an “inspired by 9/11″ thing. All these reasons. But suddenly it was time.

Strangely, I ended up unknowingly releasing it exactly ten years, to the day, after I drove to NYC for the first time since the attacks, only three weeks later. Something seems “full circle” about that.

Spotify: How Do Indie Musicians Survive in the Digital Age?

Mon, 01 Aug 2011 17:36:48 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

With the release of Spotify here in the United States, I got on board as soon as possible to finally get an idea of what it’s all about. I was amazed! I mostly use it to quickly access music I already own in lieu of hunting for CDs all over my house. To me, that makes it worth it alone. As a consumer, it’s great.

Spotify does indeed have deals for all the music on there. It took us so long to get it here in the US because the majors would not get on board. Artist get paid per stream, but it is ridiculously low. Again, I LOVE Spotify as a consumer, it’s like Netflix for music. BUT as a musician it is not a great deal. I find that more than ever I must educate people that in order for me to continue to make music I need people to actually buy it if they are big fans. I have to focus as much energy on those who will truly support me as possible, and stop worrying about quantity of people who listen to me. It is not 2005 anymore. It is not about numbers, but actual people who will actually support you.

Let me break it down…it’s pretty sad.

In my Bandcamp store I get 90% of what people buy the music for. So here’s the breakdown for a single song:

Bandcamp – 90 cents
iTunes – 63 cents
Spotify – $0.0004725 per stream – YES that many zeros.

So to make the 90 cents I make for an actual purchase, my song would have to be played 2,105 times on Spotify. To make $1,100 a month (which is about the US min wage) from a streaming service alone (which they say is the future) I would currently need 2,315,500 streams each month. To me, if you are that popular you should probably be making more than minimum wage.

Still, I think it’s always good when a paid model becomes popular as it instills some sort of value into music in the public’s minds. But it will take a lot for a streaming model to be a good thing for musicians without corporate backing. It is wonderful to look something up and hit play on demand, but it cannot replace actually selling records.

To those who think touring is the answer, I would have to say that too many people do not have realistic views about touring. Touring has NEVER been a big money making thing. Artists lose money on tours all the time. I have never once profited from a tour. Touring used to be something you did to promote your records! Of course, as a performer you also do it because you love it and so your fans can see you live. But from a business angle, the only way to make money on tour is to charge high ticket prices. For indies like me, no one will pay that. Even big name acts get criticized for high ticket prices. So the general public steals music, then complains about high ticket prices and tours get canceled for lack of sales. What? Makes no sense.

To those who think merchandising and commercial endorsements are the answer, that makes me sad. I did not practice for hours a day from the age of 8 to sell a coffee mug or plug Pepsi. I did not go to school for music and study like a madman, learning as much as I could about how music works to sell T-shirts with my picture on them. I do not go into the depths of the human experience to write emotionally compelling music in the hopes that Chrysler might use it to sell cars. I am an artist. Making records takes months. It has a value. I deserve to charge what I think it’s worth.

I don’t know why people think it is truly OK to just take music for free. IT IS STEALING. LEGALLY. The end. I don’t walk into Target and take anything I’d like and then tell them they are my favorite store and they are lucky I chose them to steal from. Why is this any different?

To those who think it is I ask you to imagine making an album of very personal songs about your life, your relationships, your children, your experiences. Then imagine the thought of people just taking it for free even though you jump through hoops to make it available in as many outlets as possible for purchase. And don’t imagine it’s your first record and you’re just SO excited to have your music out there. Imagine it’s your 13th album. Imagine you have been studying music and working at it quite seriously for 26 years. Imagine you have to decide each month which bills not to pay and eat the cheapest food you can possibly buy – often the same meal each day – because not enough people actually BUY your work. Yet at the same time you can easily go online and look at THOUSANDS of torrent downloads. So people have it, but most are just taking it. Would you feel violated?

I am not saying that everyone who ever downloads my music illegally loves it. But here’s a stunning truth. If only FIVE percent of those who downloaded my music illegally paid for it? JUST FIVE PERCENT? I would make DOUBLE what I make in a year. At least. I could be middle class!

Some people think that making art for a living is not valid. That creativity is not something you should be paid for. Forget those people. I don’t even care to engage in that. When I get an email that a song of mine helped someone through a painful divorce, the death of a parent, cancer…I know that what I do impacts the world in a much more positive way than if I handed them a Caramel Macchiato for their morning commute. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I have been given a different talent. I work hard on perfecting my craft. I think that is worth something.

I know I sound like I am complaining, but that is truly not my intention. My intention is to be as blatantly honest about the realities facing independent musicians today as possible.

The moral of the story? If you really, really like an artist’s work – buy it. It helps them make more work. If you’d rather just listen to one record over and over and never hear another note, then steal it. Making music takes time and money. No way around that. It has a value. Financially, emotionally, and to society as a whole. Music has been a huge part of every culture we have ever known on the Earth. If that is not value, I don’t know what is.

Letter to Henry

Thu, 21 Jul 2011 21:07:43 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

July 21, 2011
4:30 PM

My dearest Henry,

I miss you.

It has now been eight days and one hour since you left this world. I know your soul is somewhere safe and you are free from pain and suffering. But that doesn’t fill the void for me, still here. I know I don’t have to tell you how much you meant to me, how much I loved you. You know. I know you loved me. You were a very special kind of cat and everyone who knew you could see that. You made me a better person. I will forever be grateful that it was you that I got to give that much love to. You, that made me realize how much unconditional love we are capable of feeling and giving to someone else.

I am also grateful that we had 3 months together at the end, knowing your time was coming. I am grateful that I could help you to feel better. I miss our time while I gave you your fluid treatments. I know you didn’t love them, but I think you sensed that they made you feel better and only took a few minutes of each day. I loved watching you scarf down tuna afterward, your reward for doing something uncomfortable in order to keep fighting.

In the end, you could not fight any longer. You let me know. Thank you for that.

I will never forget that day. Wednesday July 13, 2011. I will never forget holding you in my lap with my left hand under your chest, feeling your heartbeat, and my right hand petting you. I will never forget telling you how much I love you. I will never forget the way you took very deep breaths, preparing to let go. And I will never forget the moment I felt your heart stop beating and mine shattered into a million pieces. I also know that it was our deep and loving connection that made that happen, so I take comfort in that. I SHOULD have felt that. I still do. But I don’t blame you. It was your time.

You don’t need to worry about me, but I wouldn’t mind if you’d check in once in a while.

June misses you, too. She loved you. She spent thirteen and a half years with you. She keeps trying to lick Wendy and Charlie’s heads. You know that’s not normal! I am giving her a lot of love and she will be OK too.

Wendy has lost one of her brood. She is visibly grieving too. She was so sweet to guard you during your fluid treatments. I will never forget that either. You were very loved.

Charlie never liked you very much, but you learned to tolerate one another. He is mellow since your passing. I think he secretly misses you too.

I brought your ashes home yesterday. They are on the mantle in our bedroom. I cried a lot when I picked them up. They are not you, because that was only your body. Your soul will never be destroyed. It is not possible. I believe that.

I desperately miss you laying with me on the couch. I desperately miss you staring me down because you want your wet food. I desperately miss you coming to the door when I come home. I miss sleeping in the bed with you at night. I miss rubbing your tummy while you purr like crazy. I miss you playing the toy piano to wake me up. I miss you grabbing my glasses in your mouth and dropping them on the floor because you know that the first thing I do in the morning is put them on. You were a smart little man.

There will never be another you. I don’t know that I could ever love anyone that way again. Not because I am scarred by this pain, but because what we shared was just so unique.

It is weird to be without you because I have been with you since I was eighteen years old. I am not sure how to be without you because you have been with me my entire adult life. I learned what real commitment is from you. That is so amazing and special. We brought out the best in one another.

From Hollywood Boulevard to our apartment in West Hollywood. To the Hollywood Hills, then Silver Lake, then over off Melrose. From Humboldt Park, Chicago to Edgewater beach, to Wicker Park. To Brooklyn, to Manhattan…the West Village. You got to look at the Empire State Building from the window of our bedroom. How rock star were you? Then to Grand Rapids. First downtown, then Eastown where you would finish out your life. Wow – we covered a lot of territory together. Remember when we drove to New York and you pooped all over me in the first hour? Of course you did. You hated being in the car. Remember when we went through the TSA screening at LAX and they made me take you out of your carrier and walk through the metal detector and you peed all over me? Man, that was a long day.

I remember when you were an outdoor cat, in the very beginning which was foolish of me, and you would go all over the apartment complex getting food and attention. You’d come home smelling like perfume because the two girls next door would let you in their apartment and snuggle with you. That’s just how you were.

I remember the time you crawled through every cupboard in the kitchen to get to the other side where the cat treats were while I was gone. I knew because the very first cupboard was open when I came home and the cat treat bag was in the middle of the living room floor, ripped to shreds. I knew it was you who did it, because June doesn’t like treats. You could really think things through. How you walked back through every single cupboard with that bag in your mouth to exit the way you came in, I will never know. You could just do that kind of thing.

I remember that time in LA when you escaped out the front door to try and catch a bird. You didn’t come back for 2 days. I was beside myself with worry. But you did come back and you wanted food immediately. Glutton. I remember when you pushed the screen out of the Silver Lake apartment. I found you chilling in the alley with some feral cats. Not even fighting with them. Typical.

I remember the day my review in Billboard Magazine came out and I was so excited to bring it home and read it. I went down to the newsstand on 6th Ave and West 4th Street to buy one. I came back and somehow you had gotten out of our apartment. I tried to think like you and found you in the basement, six floors down. Way to steal my thunder, Hen.

I remember lying in bed with you in West Hollywood and saying “Henry, can you believe I will be TWENTY tomorrow?” Now I will say “Henry, can you believe I will be 35 in a few months?” We had sixteen amazing years together. That’s a really long time.

I remember how much you loved popcorn, Cheez Its and string cheese. You also loved those Danish butter cookies. Remember how I’d put one in my mouth and you would grab the other side and start biting? I loved hearing the sound of your little teeth 3 inches from my face. I never had to worry you’d bite me, because you never would.

I loved the sound of you eating dry food from the bowl near the bed in the middle of the night. It’s funny, I thought that every time one of the other three ate in the night hours, I would immediately think it was you, realize you are gone, and be sad. I don’t because I knew the particular sound you make when you eat. I didn’t know I knew that until this past week.

One day my time will come, too, and I will see you again. Honestly, I can’t wait for that day.

I have cried many tears for you, but only out of love. I know you do not hold it against me that I had to make your final choice for you. You would not have enjoyed what that ending would have done to you had I not helped you along. Every day since I wonder how I possibly had the courage to watch that happen to you. It was because I knew it was what you needed, even if it would destroy me for a while. I am so happy that Holly and Mario were there. They loved you too, and you them.

I am grateful to Dr. Jen who was so sweet to you. She even kissed your head before she left us alone together when you were gone. She took good care of us.

Well I guess I have gone on and on, haven’t I? I didn’t mean for this to be so long. That’s OK, because you know I am doing this to honor you and to help myself.

You will live forever in the album I recorded about our final months. I am so happy to have it now as I process life without you in it. You will never be fully gone, part of you lives in my heart. Part of me left with you that day. That comforts me. I may not be able to touch you again, but know that I am always wanting to. I talk to you still. I look at pictures of you all day. I put a bunch up on the walls.

Rest well, my boy. You did great. You lived a long, happy life. You were one lucky cat. You don’t even know what some of their lives are like! You wouldn’t want to.

You chose me for a reason. Of this I have never been more certain. I needed you as much as you needed me. Our bond cannot be broken, and not really even understood.

I miss you.

Love,

Daddy

Grand Rapids, MI – July 19, 2011

Thu, 21 Jul 2011 17:52:25 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Despite blistering heat (it was 89 degrees with a heat index of 96) I took the stage at the outdoor amphitheater at Frederik Meijer Gardens on Tuesday evening for a 45 minute set. Thank goodness it was that short! The show must go on. We all know that saying. In moments like this, as a performer, you put that notion to the test. I had a lot working against me that night. Still – I made sure to give 100% to the show. People don’t show up to watch you be half-assed about it.

Another reason I was compromised is because I finally lost my beloved cat of 16 years, Henry, last Wednesday. The wound is fresh and I am very, very grief-stricken. He was like my son. He really was. That is the closest explanation to my bond with him I can find. He was not just “some cat.” He went everywhere I went. He never once scratched me, bit me, hissed at me…nothing. Not his style. He just loved everyone. I miss him so much.

Anyway, here is the setlist:

Frederik Meijer Gardens
Grand Rapids, MI
July 19, 2011

1. Hyades
2. Burning the Bridge
3. Opaline
4. I Fail Again
5. Landslide (dedicated to Henry William Stratton)
6. Blood
7. Crossfire (Brandon Flowers cover)
8. You Were My Religion

Encore
9. Silent All These Years (Tori Amos cover)

More on “The Vigil”

Mon, 13 Jun 2011 13:51:47 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

My new project, The Vigil, will be released in the Digital Store tomorrow, June 14. I have very sincere hopes that this album will be one that really moves people; that helps people connect and process through their own feelings. At the very least I hope that people will find it aesthetically pleasing.

The deluxe version will include the instrumentals to all the songs. This way, you can hear more of the intricacies of the orchestration that get somewhat lost when you add vocals. Vocals, strings and piano parts compete for very specific frequencies and parts of the audio “bed” that you give each track in mixing. With every project, you are always walking a very fine line with the mixes. Creating a comfort zone is key, and sometimes things you absolutely love have to be more in the background than you had hoped. An objective approach is necessary. As objective as can be, of course, considering that mixing in itself is somewhat subjective. How far forward the leads are, bright vs dark etc are all personal choices.

Anyhow, with the instrumental versions I had a lot more sonic space to work with. I like to imagine it like a film score. I have always wanted to score films.

Another thing that I thought I’d throw out there: the instrumentals are also interesting (to me anyway) in that I wrote them all before writing the lead melody or lyrics. I wrote them knowing a lead would be there in the end, so I wouldn’t necessarily call them standalone orchestral pieces, but accompaniments. Still – I like to listen back to them and hear where my brain thought “that oboe line is a good one to draw from for the vocal. That 1st violin riff would make a good vocal line.” I would finish the tracks and then play them a few times, humming along and trying stuff. The lead line would become somewhat clear to me, then I would write the lyrics. Sometimes when you start getting into a rhythm with lyric writing it becomes necessary to make some changes in the melody you have in your head. Indeed, many times I have one idea going, the lyrics start flowing and I adjust it a bit. This is true of all songs I write, but this project in particular saw some shifts.

Outside of these technical things, thematically I wanted the project to occupy a certain realm. It was important to me to document the process of battling a terminal illness with a loved one as honestly as possible without inhabiting a space of complete despair. That would not have been authentic, for me, as that is not how I feel most of the time. Sure, I have had moments. Mostly, there is a quiet hum that surrounds me all the time. I try to stay strong for Henry, and do what must be done. Underneath that is a current of rage, frustration, terror, anxiety and fear that never really leaves you, but if you know what I mean it is very quiet…a hum. It is the only way I can describe it. Very seldom does a day include a big, sweeping movie moment of sobbing tears and drama, so I didn’t want the record to reflect much of that either.

So to close, the record really is a documentation of my process of not only fighting a losing battle, but chronicles the neverending and clunky process of letting go; of at least trying to prepare for that, which is not really possible but you find yourself trying all the time. It is also, as I said in the last blog entry, about celebrating the absolute bond of love that I have shared with this living being for 16 years of my life. From morning to night and back again, we are intimately connected to the other’s life. The closeness I feel cannot be destroyed by the distance of death. This is a wonderful thing. We are lucky, as people, to have the opportunity in our lives to share such bonds with people, animals, nature…it takes many forms. It is intense and deep, and while it makes the pain of loss somewhat unbearable, it is something I would not trade for anything.

The Vigil

Sat, 11 Jun 2011 13:30:35 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Wait…I have a blog? What is this blog you speak of?

I have been terribly naughty and have not updated this thing in ages. Longest I have ever gone without blogging. The world of Facebook and Twitter took over. Alas I am returning to this space.

So much has happened and yet not enough has happened. The biggest thing, for me, was my 16 year old cat Henry crashing and being diagnosed with chronic renal failure. That was seven and a half weeks ago. Life since then has been a whirlwind of constant feedings and subcutaneous fluid injections. For those who also feel their pets are like children, like a member of the family…you get it. I have had him since I was JUST on my own in the world, so preparing for a life without him in it is very difficult for me. He is my right hand man. Just the sweetest cat in the world. Always has been. He has never scratched or bitten anyone. He wouldn’t dream of it.

Anyhow – going through this journey inspired me to write a follow-up record to Messages Sending. Orchestral arrangements for piano, strings, oboes and percussion on each song. Living within that structure gave me a focus while also allowing me to exist in my very favorite world of orchestral music. I also wanted to try and capture the entire spectrum of what going through a terminal illness with someone you love is like. So many of us have been there. I am hoping this project will be healing and comforting, albeit intense and raw, for anyone who has experienced this. It is not morbid so much as it is sad, while acknowledging each feeling and ultimately celebrating and honoring the very deep and eternal bonds we create with others.

It will be available VERY soon. Probably by Tuesday or so (June 14). It will also be available in a deluxe version that will come with the instrumental versions. Here is the tracklisting:

Casey Stratton

The Vigil

1. Introduction: In Inceptum Finis Est
2. Not Ready
3. Soldiers
4. Setting Sun
5. Interlude One
6. The Vigil
7. Here and Now
8. Acceptance
9. Interlude Two
10. Now and Forever
11. Everywhere
12. Requiem

Dreams with Meg in Miami

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 22:13:38 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

I just woke up from a nap and had one of my crazy dreams. I had to write it down…

I was in Miami for a high school reunion. Somehow I ended up having a lunch date with Meg Ryan, whom I had never met before. We met at her place and exchanged pleasantries and all was fine and good. We started walking down the street and I brought up how I had recently seen Sleepless in Seattle again (except I kept calling it Walking in Seattle – me making an ass of myself becomes the theme). Meg exclaimed how wonderful it was to make that film and how much she loved it. I said I was happy since so many wonderful movies have terrible behind the scenes stories. She said “Like what?” I replied “I don’t know, like Rosalind Russell said she hated making Godspell because the director didn’t like her (WTF?). She said she went home and cried every night.”

We ended up in a lobby and a bunch of people were standing around as I continued to prattle on about Sleepless in Seattle to Meg. Her reactions grew a bit forced and she looked annoyed. I realized my loud mouth had made everyone around us realize she was Meg Ryan. I was mortified and said “It’s not her, everyone. She just looks like her.” No one believed me, obviously.

We then entered some sort of makeshift movie set. She introduced me to some other people and I told them all the story about the lobby hoping Meg would laugh and I would know all was OK. She rolled her eyes and said “Yeah that was a laugh.” She left the room to go shoot a scene and I looked down and realized my pants were on backwards. I went to find a bathroom to turn them around, when some man said “Those pants need to be fixed before you can go on camera. Come with me.” I tried to explain that I was not in the movie but no one would listen to me. Next thing I know my pants were whisked away and I was plopped into a makeup chair. They started putting on makeup, giving me a manicure, etc. Suddenly I feel pain in my face and realize someone is giving me Botox. I reacted in horror that anyone would do that without my permission. The guy asked how old I was and I said 34, to which he replied ‘mm hmm….honey you need it.’ I was furious and started a big fight which started everyone else fighting about whether or not I should have consented to such a thing.

Meg showed up and got me out of the situation, but I had half a face of makeup on and could not move my eyebrows.

We went to a restaurant and sat down at a table that had others seated right next to us, kind of like they do in New York sometimes. I sat in the wrong seat and reached out and drank someone else’s drink. Embarrassed and mortified I moved to the appropriate seat. Suddenly I noticed we were sitting on a beach. I had not figured that out. I was thrilled since Michigan has been so cold but felt like a country bumpkin to get so excited about it.

Then I woke up. I have the weirdest dreams.

New York, NY

Wed, 12 Jan 2011 15:40:10 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Last night’s show in NYC proved to be a great evening despite the heavy snowfall. A great turnout so thanks to everyone for coming out. The evening progressed into a long night out with new and old friends alike. Got to catch up with some dear friends and spend some time getting to know others. We tumbled out into the streets and had a snowball fight. What a night!

New York, NY – The Bitter End – 1/11/11

1. Hyades

2. Maybe For A Minute

3. Meteors

4. Burning the Bridge

5. Cities In Dust (Siouxsie and the Banshees Cover)

6. Bloom

7. Blood

8. You Were My Religion

Here’s a video of one of our many snowball fights. NSFW because I curse:

Starting Again

Wed, 15 Dec 2010 16:05:21 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

What a week I’ve had! I have been trying for weeks to find a way to sell a digital video download of my last show at Wealthy Theatre here in Grand Rapids, MI. I find it highly surprising that so few artists offer this kind of thing. It was very hard to find the right tools to do it. I tried about 4 options that, after all the work, did not work well enough for me to use them. I am still not sure if my final choice is good enough. I will know more later.

Turned out my website has been hosted with the same hosting provider for so long that I was on some ancient kind of server and for security reasons it would not allow this thing called ‘redirected links.’ So yesterday I had to migrate my entire website to a new server. Since nothing ever goes according to plan, moving this blog over did not work right at all. Good thing I crosspost to LiveJournal so I just imported all my old posts. Still – I lost all the comments here which saddens me because people say such lovely things.

I am still trying to get everything up and running properly. It has been more than a week now of solid computer work upwards of 8-12 hours a day. It will be worth it but I can’t wait to make music again!

So my apologies to all who commented previously. Bummed they are gone, but I do have the email notifications so I can still read them when I need a pick me up!

Life After Labels

Thu, 09 Dec 2010 16:06:59 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

I was asked this question on Facebook this week and thought I’d answer it here.

Q: I was wondering how exactly life differs now vs being with Sony on a professional level? Do you get approached by other labels/producers/artist? Do you own material/work you did with Sony? Is there royalties made? And what happened with the documentary that was to reveal the story? sigh…

A: My professional life is immensely different now than it was when I was with Sony. I am very isolated these days. I do not get approached by people very often any longer, and I think a lot of that comes from not touring and just being too insular overall, which I am trying to change. Social networking helps, especially Twitter which has less pressure since the messages are short. Not wanting to go with another major label ever again, it is difficult to know what to do. I would love to license records to an indie label, but I have found that my immense back catalog actually works against me in a big way. Labels don’t want to compete with me, but I am not willing to give up a percentage of 15 years of work they had nothing to do with. Catch-22. I seem to have painted myself into a corner of doing it all on my own.

Being with Sony was very exciting, and I sometimes miss that excitement quite a bit. Plus I no longer live in New York City which I loved dearly. I DO NOT and may not ever own Standing at the Edge. It is not mine. I signed it away when I took the major label deal. I have never received one dime in royalties in almost 7 years. As a matter of fact I still owe Sony so much that I would have to sell about 500,000 copies to start making royalties. Never going to happen. As digital theft becomes more and more rampant, I see sales become less and less. People talk about how artists should make money touring, but most artists are ecstatic just to break even on the road. Case in point: I have never done so. I have lost money on every tour I have ever done. Finding a way to actually make a living as a full-time musician is going the way of the dinosaur and I am looking at getting a day job again very soon at this rate. If I sound bitter – sometimes I am.

As far as the documentary goes, I have no idea if or when it will be released. It’s not up to me. I hope it will get released someday so people can see it, but there was still a lot that couldn’t really be talked about. I feel the public doesn’t really understand how things work behind closed doors and it’s hard to talk about without burning bridges. The public can be very naive about what it’s like and that’s OK. It is interesting to see me get signed, get excited, become disillusioned etc, but there was so much more that happened when cameras were not rolling and things I did not talk about. Someday I’ll write a book! Still – I hope people get to see the documentary soon.

Pumpkin Pie with Cashew Ginger Streusel

Thu, 25 Nov 2010 16:15:01 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the US who celebrates it. I am always quite conflicted about celebrating genocide, but we’ll save that for another time. To me, it is the beginning of the holiday season. Each year I make a pumpkin pie that has become a favorite of mine over the years. Many have asked for the recipe from various corners of the interwebs so I am posting it here. I don’t usually make the crust from scratch, but buy a pre-made one (modern times call for modern conveniences sometimes). Sometimes I’ll buy a graham cracker crust. This year I bought a shortbread one.

Pumpkin Pie with Cashew Ginger Streusel – A variation on a recipe from Bon Appétit | November 1994

A crunchy topping is the twist to this quintessential Thanksgiving pie.
Yield: Serves 8

Ingredients

Crust
2 tablespoons chopped peeled fresh ginger
1 1/3 cups all purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/4 cup chilled solid vegetable shortening, cut into small pieces
1 large egg yolk
2 tablespoons (or more) ice water

Filling
1 14.5-ounce can solid pack pumpkin
1 1/2 cups whipping cream
3 large eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup packed golden brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoons ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt

Topping
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup packed golden brown sugar
1/2 cup coarsely chopped cashews (about 2 1/2 ounces)
1/4 cup finely chipped crystallized ginger (optional)
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, room temperature
preparation

For crust:

Place ginger in processor and process ;until minced. Add flour, sugar, cloves and salt; process to combine. Using on/off turns, cut in butter and shortening until mixture resembles coarse meal. Mix yolk and 2 tablespoons water in small bowl. Add yolk mixture to flour and butter mixture; process just until mixture forms moist clumps. If dough is too dry, blend in more water by teaspoonfuls. Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic; chill 1 hour. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Keep chilled. Soften dough slightly at room temperature before rolling.)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Roll out dough on floured surface to 12-inch-diameter round. Transfer dough to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim overhang to 1 inch. Fold edges under crust. Crimp decoratively, forming high-standing rim (about 1/2 inch above rim of dish). Freeze crust for 15 minutes. Line crust with foil and then fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake crust 10 minutes. Remove foil and beans and bake until crust is set and pale golden, about 10 minutes. Transfer crust to rack; cool completely.

For filling:

Whisk all ingredients in large bowl until combined. Pour into pie crust. Bake until skin begins to form on filling and filling begins to set, about 50 minutes. Remove from oven. Let pie stand 10 minutes to set slightly. Maintain oven temperature.

Meanwhile, prepare topping:

Mix first 5 ingredients in medium bowl. Rub in butter with fingertips until mixture begins to form small clumps. Sprinkle topping over pie. Bake until pie is set and streusel is golden brown, about 25 minutes. Transfer to rack and cool completely.

These Dreams

Thu, 18 Nov 2010 14:46:58 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

I just had a dream that was so intense and interesting to me that I had to wake up (far too early considering when I went to bed) and write it down. I have very vivid and strange dreams sometimes, as many know. Here it is:

I can’t remember the exact beginning (as the movie Inception pointed out – we rarely remember the very beginning of a dream). The first thing I recall right now is that I was in a mental hospital. I was listening to music on my iPhone and a nurse came into my room and told me I could only listen to music at dinner time. I thought “Well this place isn’t going to work for me if I can only listen to music for 1 hour a day.” I looked over at my roommate, whom I now realize was Cerie from 30 Rock (WTF?) and she winked at me and said “Want to see my notes?” She handed me a crumpled up piece of very white paper. I unfolded it and realized that while it was nearly impossible to decipher completely it was jogging my memory. I commented that her note-taking style was very different from mine but I was starting to figure it out.

Then it started flooding back to me. We were not really mental patients. We used the mental hospital room as a portal. By entering a closet in that room you could transport into a world kind of like the show 24. We would save the world and fight the “bad guys” in all sorts of scenarios that we called seasons just like US TV shows do. I realized Cerie’s notes were from season 3 that had something to do with a lye-like chemical in a red and white bottle. I reached under my bed and pulled out one of the bottles and said “You really liked that season. I remember that now.” I realized I was frightened to remember my dangerous “real job” but relieved I wasn’t really crazy (which is starting to sound debatable as this dream continues, I’m sure). I remarked that I had really liked the energy and pace of season 4, but that I should probably stop remembering or I would have nightmares and I really needed my sleep.

Next thing I knew I was in a long, dark, dingy hallway. I got to the end of it and recalled that I had to take my iPhone and connect it to a device in the hallway. The context of this part was that it was season 4 again and I had already done all of this once before. I plugged the device into the wall and kept going. Suddenly an alarm went off and I knew the enemy had infiltrated the structure I was in. I began racing down the hallway toward what I knew was a giant control room full of computers, monitors and these small black tables on wheels that had silver coils on top of them. As I flew into the control room I took a minute to get my bearings and talk with the others on my team. Someone was working on cracking a code we had intercepted. I told them they’d better hurry as the enemies were gaining on us and would get to us at any moment.

Finally the code breaker stood up and screamed that the tables with coils were all bombs. They started detonating one by one and I was running for my life to stay ahead of them. Suddenly I had a partner that was in a wheelchair but he could go super fast in that thing. We were racing once again down long hallways full of bombs. Office chairs were going from side to side and we had to avoid them.

Cut to a scene in a shopping mall. We knew that, like the mental hospital, we had to pretend to exist in one reality while knowing that our real job was on another plane of existence (OK maybe this was Inception finally creeping into my dreams now that I think of it.) I looked down and realized that now I was the guy in the wheelchair and the other man I was with was me (I frequently change characters in my dreams – even sometimes looking and interacting with myself. Weird?). I said “I really need to stretch or I will be in a lot of pain soon, and we still have to overthrow the Russian assassins.” I looked down and my legs were bleeding. Just then 2 women whom I recognized as my Mother and Sister in the dream (not in real life – I was not me in this part but the other guy). My Mother came up to me and said “Why are you bleeding?” I remarked that it was nothing, that I had simply cut myself on something. She reminded me that I needed to be more careful because my student loans would not pay themselves. Ok…

Now I was waking up in my “new apartment.” I was me again. I was under the impression that I had woken up in real life. I was lying in a bed that was placed in exactly the same place as the mental hospital bed had been. I remembered that was significant but could not remember what had come before. I was lying in bed thinking I should get up and start decorating the new place. I looked around and wondered why I had chosen it. I had thought it was so cool when I looked at it, but now living there it was falling apart. Pieces of the wall plaster had come off in large sections leaving exposed and water-stained walls. The front door was like an office building – 2 glass doors with no curtain over it so anyone in the lobby could see right in. I also noticed a section that opened right into the rest of the building and was scared my cats would find that and I would never be able to keep them in my apartment.

As I explored the space, I entered into a large walk-in closet. On one wall were a bunch of wires that connected to little cubby hole-like things that opened into my main room (the one like the mental hospital) on the other side. The wires went to little lights that you could place in the cubbies and would shine in the other room. I was afraid to plug some of them in as the wires looked very 70s and I was fearful they would electrocute me. Suddenly the alarm sound I use in real life started chiming. I looked down and attached to the maze of wires on the wall was my iPhone connected to the device and plugged in. It all came back. I was not supposed to be decorating and exploring a new apartment! I was supposed to be finding and stopping the Russian assassins!

I removed my iPhone and went back into the long, dark hallways that now had red shag carpeting. I don’t remember much here unfortunately.

I was back in the new apartment and reminded myself that I did indeed have nightmares from remembering season 4. I found a room I had not seen before, up a red carpet staircase. It was like an attic room with windows on a sloped ceiling. It was FULL of clothes – all 60s and 70s. I had the impression it WAS the 70s. I put on these really cool platform shoes that laced all the way up your calves. They were a light grey color with red straps. All along the front and sides were painted on animal cartoons. A rhino, a donkey, a tiger and a skunk. Ok then.

I woke up as I was tying the last strap.

Grand Rapids, MI

Sat, 13 Nov 2010 07:29:02 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

Tonight’s show was a wonderful experience. Here’s the set list:

1. Hyades
2. Burning the Bridge
3. Acid
4. Hollow
5. A Little Ending
6. Seven Sisters
7. I Don’t Think So
8. Stories
9. Landing
10. Late December
11. Willing To Try
12. No Messages Send
13. Break Down the Wall

Encore One
14. Ether
15. We Live For Love (Pat Benatar cover)

Encore Two
16. Blood
17. You Were My Religion

Blogging Myth & Star: The Human Chain and Echoes

Wed, 27 Oct 2010 20:31:11 GMT

Originally published at The Casey Stratton Blog. You can comment here or there.

The Human Chain

When the heart is involved no way to see straight. As much as we’ve evolved, it may be too late.

This song began one day when I was just messing around on the piano. The intro/verse groove started happening and I found myself playing it for a long while, which I am known to do from time to time. I wrote the song and started the process of figuring out what it was going to be about.

As I traversed various myths for this record, I was reminded again and again that cultures create these stories to explain and understand our own behavior: the human condition. By attributing similar feelings to the gods and goddesses or what have you, we ultimately elevate our own behavior. This may sound a bit controversial, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that in the Christian tradition Jesus was a human on this Earth. I think on some level it makes religion and faith more relatable to us to have a human connection, a human-like story attached. Whether this was by design from God above or something humans made up is a matter of personal interpretation and I leave it at that, but I do see a parallel.

Anyhow, this song’s narrative is presented as a series of vignettes. Myself as someone who is angry and feeling violence emerging in myself, another who is jealous and stirred into a rage of destruction from it, a woman who lies so much she can no longer find her own truth and must live her lies and a soldier who returns from the horrors of war to find he has lost so much of himself to the killing that he no longer fits into society or loves his wife. That final story is all too common and very heartbreaking to me. How can we possibly understand what they have seen? The wars come into the album a few more times as well.

In the end, what binds us to one another are our similarities, not our differences. We all have negativity in our lives. We all do things we are not proud of, or our affections change. We all face dark times. By embracing and discussing it, we help ourselves understand what it is to be human.

Echoes

Whisper the secret I couldn’t say. I’m tired of the weight that is gives this place.

While this song is very much a personal narrative, I also used the stories of Prometheus and Pandora as inspiration. It is a song about telling the truth, all the while knowing it will be difficult and the consequences may be great. I think we all have moments in our lives when we know something is out of order, not working or there are simply things we must say, must get off our chest as to not harbor resentments or remain in an unhealthy situation. By putting it on the table we open the door to a possible resolution, or to an eventual separation.

There is a particularly sad element to this song in that both people know the truth yet no one has said it. You know it will not be a surprise to the other, but once it is out in the open the land of denial will be off limits forever. You can be in a river of confusion for a while. You can be lost, trying to make sense of it all; trying to find a way forward. This can be a difficult, lonely and dark place to be. We have all been there. In the end it takes courage to say the things that are hard to say to someone you care about.