our Father, who art in heaven hallowed be thy name thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom the power, and the glory for ever and ever amen
it puts you and me inside the shadow
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH the story behind if you believe
mixed messages - not intended when I was assembling the music I saw religious symbology and was reminded that believing in God fundamentally changes nothing it just makes us feel a bit better about ourselves for a few minutes
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH the story behind Desperado slow fades are good I like long cross-dissolves best ample time to leave one thought behind before entering a new one in and around 1983, my wife to be Jody Terio and I put a show together and performed it to a modest/artsy/financially challenged Thursday night crowd at the Rivoli on Queen West in Toronto it was called Nuclear Cartoons I wrote the title track we were in our 20's and had a lot in common I had just met her and she inspired me it was all very crude, but I remember the crowd responding by clapping after each piece genuinely appreciating the effort we had put into it it was an audio-visual thing we had taken out a 16mm film projector from Toronto Public Library (free) something you could do back then and we showed holocaust pictures and synchronized the music I had created during downtime at the recording studio where I worked at the time there was this new thing called VHS but the players were a TV thing and we wanted larger, projected images since then, a cinematic sensibility is something I've been drawn to new sounds and pictures 36 years later and a tad more refined it's kinda what I wanted to do back then and now can - my mission a new vocation resurrected I'm still on the clock but it's my clock
for a signal ... a tricky trickle of light through your retina embryo
your 'common sense' lens
in your instrument of carnal observation and delicately honed judgement
in curiosity, knowing that we have such little time - waiting you look, for some sign of life ... in the mirror pool over and over and over again
forever cautious of the shadows ... on guard on-look for the deception
always lurking ... 'look, what's that'?
you were taught well ... the lies ... the shame
and in your moment of solace, that comforting voice returns
that's a good girl
daddy will take care of you
haunting
yet oddly alluring ... you take him in again
but like a smart soul
and like any animal or insect with integrity and sharp teeth
you continue to pray for peace and order within yourself
and in the attachments that envelope ... you will submit
surrender ... to that which you cannot change
I am a failure so it appears
you will learn to love yourself again ... unconditionally
and in the awakening, you will see life again
from your child’s perspective
when you were 6, you sat in a garden alone - you don’t remember
in awe of that first praying mantis, you WILL remember it again
maybe you captured it in a glass jar delicately in observation
even with some grass - that it doesn't eat so it had food - wishful thinking
like the predator that YOU are
even poking holes in the lid so that he can breathe air
not interested in the grass not threatened by this captivity
not interested in anything but what's here right now
entertaining eternity
careful observation requires patience tedious minutes turn into hours do not disturb watching - conclusion
and so, in your benevolent repose you may have even put a stick in the jar
so that you may see it better, only to grow impatient and let it go later
back to it's natural habitat ... into the wild - landing in the familiar distant thunder - quieter - that single raindrop on your hand, looking up into the weather - no quarter - no way out that deafening silence returning, and yet
in that moment you are truly still in the perfect storm
breathe
in your macro focus you realize, finally getting it
that consciousness is just what you make it
everything that is “behind” you is just THAT
part of your past
there is nothing more than this green leaf
that you munch on in this moment - like a potato chip
humble and innocent
time stands still ... wide eyed and crystalized
and so, the mantis lands on familiar ground again and re-adapts
but doesn't fly away for the longest time
totally aware
that it's captor is still right there watching intently
no fear
it begins to eat again ... watching in fascination
watching ... learning, then suddenly ... it's gone
it's never enough ... you hunger for more
it's a longing to connect with something bigger and better
but not knowing how
and so in your grieving; in the pain, suffering ...
remorse, despair ... guilt and blame
that was inflicted on you at an early age ... surfacing
you will finally GET that it’s just baggage, garbage
you don’t need to carry it around anymore, like the burden
you were supposed to nurture every day of your life
the curse that you inherited, long ago
and accepted your karmic legacy
that was THEM not you
this ticket is null and void
this hand of cards is a trick, the deck was stacked
redemption arrives ... finally
or does it? maybe this is a trick too
you question yourself
and so
you will cry for a long time, like you've never cried
weeping for hours in mourning, shivering, totally alone
it will consume you, only momentarily
your memento drifts into a peaceful slumber, yet again
yes ... you will sleep for a long time - always tired
only to awaken to the same mistake you keep making
over and over and over again
like a moth to the flame
you persist
you continually ache for that feeling
of being ripped apart in your heart and then your soul
slow burn ... over and over ... hurts so good
in the charred wreckage you dig down
deep down - into your pit of despair ... abyss management - just one clue
longing for closure, but no ... not yet
you will however, persist ... in your quest for clarity and freedom
sifting through endless chaos theories and utter confusion
where is it? i know it's here somewhere
again, folding, crashing, scraping P R A Y I N G M A N T I S
you will self-destruct and breakdown yet again
only something will finally change
an unscheduled exorcism - departure and arrival
the executioner and the victim inside you will have left you, finally
those little voices in your head that control you will be gone
you will feel lighter ... you will feel healthier you will feel whole again
awakening
and in this moment of new-found clarity you will release
like you never knew possible
and when you resurface - in your tenuous tenement and see that your guardian angel is gone
you will let her go with grace and humility
for you will KNOW that she loves you wherever you go
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH the story behind astral another message in a bottle closing track on ONE LIFE now stopped me in my tracks and paralysed for a moment his hands on my shoulders ... gently turning me "look there" and it sounded a lot like "go there" when I was putting the music for astral together I imagined being able to teleport back in time and snapping random pictures of disturbed people shell-shocked, some sad, some just numb some batshit crazy those who feel that they have nothing left to lose pulling it all into 3 minutes to show you what I saw the music never resolves in perpetuity for a reason for Tom Lodge
there'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of dover tomorrow when the world is free it's a song my mom used to sing to me as a child a lullaby to help me slip into surrender
it's a sound that tickles the limbic then moves down, grazing the frontal lobe then further down into my dark body flickers of light, shapes ... landscapes passing that place I abandoned left to decay years ago familiar unsettling
seeing it all again from a distance, then up close realizing it's a dream, I roll over and fall back asleep only it returns; this time in greater detail memories of the family farm in Eastwood Ontario this time for kenneth henry batho (uncle ken)
