52 of 28 » Archive

Earlier today I found out that a site called legalsounds[dot]com is selling my music (written, performed, and recorded by me and people very close to me, at our own expense) without my consent and when that particular album is available for free. Reading through some posts by others on their Facebook page, it looks like they are going out of business or at least can’t currently accept payments.

If you’re buying music, especially from an independent/DIY artist, please look for an artist’s official website or find them on bandcamp.com, amazon MP3, or iTunes. You can make direct contact with DIY artists on a number of social networks, so if a website ever looks weird or you have any questions, please try reaching out directly.

I don’t really care if third-party sites host free downloads of my music, although I always like to be aware of them. It’s not all about the money, unless someone’s being sheisty.

Speaking of free music, the album the site has for sale is 52 of 28, my song-a-week project from 2010/2011. I have it set up so you can name your price; $0 is perfectly fine with me, especially when compared to giving some jerk(s) your hard-earned money.

Fifty-two. I’d been thinking about how I wanted to finish this project, even if a grande finale wasn’t necessarily part of the plan. This song started with the idea that I would try to use every instrument from throughout the project (which technically didn’t work, since I never talked to Amanda and Sam about playing on this song, and we did record “the name of every building (52-33)” together). I did add a little lap steel guitar and feedback, which I know doesn’t make up for it. But it has been a long time since I tuned my lap steel. And I really want to grow vegetables. And Carrie was pretty excited to sing on this one.

Thanks for following along.

who knows where we’ll end up
if we’ll end up where we think
who knows where we’ll end up
if we’ll end up on the road between
here and there

looked for the eclipsed moon
the clouds covered the sky
so dark they looked like smoke
with no sign of glowing fire i could see
i couldn’t see

dreamt the end of the world
had come and gone, and come again
dreamt we lived out on a farm
and we had to grow our own vegetables
sing our own music and write brand new stories
and make our own clothes from what we had
we built a fire every night
to let the world know we were alive
we were alive, we were alive

This song, I decided, would be one take. Sometimes I just get that feeling about a song, and even if there are mistakes or weird parts (like me kinda forgetting words) I just think that’s the way it should be. I wrote the main guitar line with a lot of folk music in mind, and didn’t really solidify it. That way when I mess up, it’s improvising instead of messing up. Avant-garde, you know. I have big plans for the final song of the album, so stay tuned.

this car won’t drive itself
and i need you close to me
if you want to keep me company,
i’ll clear off the passenger seat
and we have all the time we need
to see everything we want to see

we can just be ourselves
there’s no one here but you and me
we can keep each other company
sometimes we’re all we need
we don’t have to do anything
and it’s everything, it’s everything

this song won’t sing itself
i need you to be with me
if you want, you can sing soft
so softly, so softly
and we’ll try, we’ll try,
but we don’t really have to try hard

I was playing that opening guitar part for about half an hour before I came up with any words for this. It was almost called “the place where i grew up part 2” but I wanted it to be its own song. Also, I must admit it freaked me out a little to type in 52-50. 50! Man. Also, I apologize if you were expecting a love song. I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day, and I’m rather upset I haven’t managed to book my Anti-Valentine’s Day shows since I’ve been in Las Vegas. Maybe I’ll try again next year.

we grew up in a town paved with dirt
sidewalks poured with cracks, houses made of mud
but it wasn’t all that different, it wasn’t all that bad

we grew up in a town full of people
who wanted it to change, wanted it to stay the same
but it wasn’t all that big, it wasn’t all that small

we have built these monuments and these castles
no one can touch anything, no one can say a word

we have designed ourselves into a corner
we have to lock our doors, we have to close the curtains
but it isn’t all just fear, it isn’t all privacy
we have written ourselves into a corner
we can’t say any bad words, we can’t say the wrong words
but it isn’t all politeness, it isn’t all manners

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