[Elijah Few]

Back in late 2007 I was rolling around the south island city capital and looking for musicians to collaborate with: I ran across Elizabeth from The Hidden Truth who wanted to cover the Rakaia River Murder Song and here’s her demo…

Rakaia River murder

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I’m embarking upon a 6-8 week road trip through the great wilderness and will set up a page here somewhere to document the photogrpahy and anything else interesting that happens.

The Elijah Few Project…

Its changing.

I have a conundrum – on a personal level I have songs pouring out of me which just don’t make it through the high end of production fast enough. With the sights set upon world class production there is a vast vacuum between song writing song production and song release. Not one song has been finished yet. In a long long time – for alot of very complicated reasons. THe production incidentally is AMAZING.

1. I write the song

2. the production starts….

3. nothing has been released….

This creates a barrier to authentic performance as without the production finished the song can’t be performed by the band that hasn’t been built around the production. It’s questionable if this kind of production lends itself to authenticity anyway – THESE SONGS aren’t meant to BE PRODUCTS.

I`m thinking that a parallel way to produce this material is to produce it quickly with simple live in the studio acoustic performances from a small band with a few overdubs, a much more organic method – alongside a high fidelity production process with a focus upon polished, slick, detailed, top end expensive production.

That might happen later.

I think that these songs are ALL ABOUT a small, focused, ambient   intimate, edgy  sound rather than a large grandiloquent superslick big numbers production.

What about hand drawn and printed, hand made, highly limited edition c.d.’s, or even L.P’s sent direct from us?

That way the songs do NOT stagnate. That way songs get made and finished. That way people can play them and they don’t sit here on this website rotting like carcasses.

I’d rather have  a small number of  fans who actually really listen, enjoy and connect with what I do than 10,000 who buy a product because these songs aren’t products at all…that way the songs and the people who want to listen get the kind of production they deserve. Most of these songs were written in 2005 and 2006, one of them in 1996. I think it’s about time the pen was put to paper on the final chapter.

Its up to you……..

Also, wouldnt people rather have something to actually play and listen to rather than watching these songs creep along the floor, on this website, like broken spiders, slowly looking for a way out into the light? Im thinking about selling the songs on sellaband…

I`m asking you guys cause you are the first 26 people who are going to receive these songs.

Something along these lines….if at all possible

That’s the soulful sound of Darren Watson, a resonator, a valve mike and a truckload of talent turning up the heat!

Last year I had the lucky chance to interview Darren Watson when I was writing for the Jamarama Guitar Blog and this year I was lucky enough to see Darren just recently cooking up some great blues tunes at the Ruby Lounge in Wellington whilst enjoying some fine, fine ales amongst the company of like minded blues rock afficionados.

What particularly caught my attention was Darren’s band. They were tighter than two coats of paint, never overplayed and the bass man was definitely off the hook – as fluid as a lavalamp in zero gravity.

Darren also cooked up some serious glass finger bottleneck on the stratocaster that really had the place buzzing. Every now and then the band segued into classic guitar motifs, such as Jimi Hendrix‘ melody hook from Third Stone From the Sun; and, I was pleased to see Darren bashing the ole guitar with his fist every now and then to generate some feedback. Something we can ALL relate to. It was a versatile set and a great show with plenty of varied pace and Darren’s range, tone and fidelity are something else – not only that Darren Watson is a great guy so go to his show – say “hello”, and  check out his records at www.darrenwatson.com.

Here is the interview from  last year and what will impress upon you immediately is Darren’s no-nonsense, down to earth unpretentious approach to the guitar, the blues and life in general; it’s a guitar lesson in itself!

Today I`m going to spend ten minutes with highly accomplished south pacific blues master Darren Watson. You may not have heard of Darren but in a career spanning three decades Darren has worked on the bill with such blues luminaries and giants as Robert Cray, Koko Taylor, George Thorogood, Billy Boy Arnold, Doug MacLeod, The Fabulous Thunderbirds, Dr. John and Keb Mo . . certainly no bunch of blues slackers by anybodies stretch of the imagination and a real testament to Darren’s skills as a musician.

To those who remember New Zealand music back in the day, in the ’80s, or those who have even a passing interest in blues, the name Darren Watson will always bring on a smile. As the founder and leader of Wellington powerhouse band Chicago Smoke Shop, Darren enjoyed a 6 year stint in the public eye with chart singles like Mind On My Sleeve and I Can’t Live Without Your Love.

He has been nominated a colossal six times for New Zealand Music Awards for a body of recorded work that includes two Top 40 albums and singles and three critically acclaimed solo albums including 2002’s Tui Award nominated ‘King Size’, and 2005’s stunning and genre breaking ‘South Pacific Soul’.

Darren is the real deal when it comes to blues guitar. I’ve been listening to guitar myself for 30 years and Darren has style, taste, timing, technique and tone…and just what the hell else is there?

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QUESTION 1.

Jake:

Hi Darren, kia ora, How`s it going man, and how`s the weather up there, blue enough for you ?

Darren :

Heh heh… not today, bro`! It’s nine degrees and raining! Wellington in springtime.. heh heh

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QUESTION 2.

Jake:

Darren, our readers are more often than not beginner guitarists so I`d like to start by asking how, when and where you first became seriously involved in the guitar – was there anyone in particular that helped steer you in the right direction?

Darren:

I grew up in the era just after The Beatles broke up so their shadow loomed large in my life. That, and my cousin was guitarist in a pretty popular band in NZ in the 60s – the Librettos – so I got to hear a fair bit about how cool rock n’ roll was. I played some drums, piano and trumpet before I actually thought I had settled on bass. My first couple of years playing was on bass . . a regular rightie Macca heh heh…. in my DREAMS!
But, yeah then I stopped playing in covers bands at about 17 and started taking guitar seriously instead. About the same time I discovered blues for myself.

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QUESTION 3.

Jake:

And, did you start out with a high-end guitar like a gibson 335, or like most of us, begin playing on a rotten old plank from Walmart? (myself – I had an old plank but I had to take a ferry from the fretboard to the strings the action was so damn high!)

Darren:

LOL…. No way man. My first six-string was a nasty Carlos Les Paul copy. The neck warped within a couple of weeks. Grin* A total P.O.S..
I didn’t have my first real Strat` until we had a record in the charts when I was twenty-two!

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QUESTION 4.

Jake:

Okay. So, do you have any advice for those who are struggling to get to grips with the instrument? Can you remember your early days, and which artists really inspired you back then?

Darren:

I am really lucky in that music has always come really easy to me. I feel like I have always understood how it works, even before I had NAMES for things. Getting to grips with the guitar was all about mechanics for me – and I think it is for a lot of people – you know, finding a technique that works for them. I don’t buy this idea that there is only one ‘right’ way to play.

As for inspiration on guitar, I was hugely inspired by the ‘lefty-upside-down’ players like Albert King, and Otis Rush. Also really got into guys using different techniques and tunings – like Albert Collins and Skip James. You can’t go past early BB King either. I mean his 1950s stuff is almost without peer vocally and for the guitar stuff. I also like Robert Cray and early Jimmy Vaughan with the Fabulous Thunderbirds. I reckon Cray is the most important guy in blues today – he’s actually got his own voice. Too many Stevie Ray Vaughan clones out their, may he rest in peace one day…..

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QUESTION 5.

Jake:

Well Darren I`ve got to say I agree with you there. And why is the blues a great place to start when approaching the guitar? is it because there are a range of styles and forms from the simple to the highly complex that  allow players such a depth of expression ?

Darren:

I think it’s because to make it sound good you really have to get to grips with rhythm and your sound. There’s nowhere to hide melodically or harmonically. If you just wail away playing scales you are guaranteed to sound shit in my opinion. It forces you to be inventive with time.

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QUESTION 6.

Jake:

That`s a smart smart answer people! Right Darren; you`ve got a killer guitar tone – what`s the deal with your guitars and amps, have you got any particular amps and guitar combinations that you prefer for electric blues playing?

Darren:

Thanks man. I have really concentrated on this for most of my life. I used to think it was about gear but the older I get the more I realize it’s mostly in the hands. You can line up 30 people playing through the same gear and they’re all gonna sound completely different. Having said that, great gear helps plenty. At the moment I’m mostly playing a Fender ’59 ThinSkin Strat through a Headstrong Lil King-S. It’s like a souped-up blackface Princeton, LOL,  but not as souped up as  a MK1 Boogie! I run a HBE compressor and a MXR CAE clean boost into the amp and that’s it as far as effects go. The comp for slide and the boost for… um, well  boosting. Grin*

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QUESTION 7.

Jake:

Awesome Darren, just awesome. I just love the MK1 Boogies; but they`re definitely supercharged amp’s. The MXR CAE clean boost sounds great – and unusual; I’ve never heard of one before. Cool man.

For those out there just beginning to become familiar with the language of the blues are there any fundamental scales that you tend to use ?

Darren:

I’m a big believer in playing the changes and not getting too hung up on scales. Most of my favorite blues players aren’t big on the minor pentatonics like a lot of blues/rock players tend to be. I get modal from time to time but I really don’t think about it too much. I teach people how to use their ears and play the changes first. Too many people I hear playing in music shops and (God forbid!?!) sometimes on stage sound like they’re running exercises as solos. Rambling and phrase-less. I actually think we can all learn from singers and wind instruments. BREATHE in between those phrases, baby! Heh heh Make the notes count. Soloing is basically composition on the fly – so let’s have some hooks. I would rather play a fat groove than solo anyway.

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QUESTION 8.

Jake:

(smiles) Yeah Darren; I`m with you on that one it’s saxophonists for me!
So, when it comes to playing acoustic fingerstyle blues what do you look for in your guitar sound – I see you`re using a `58 Gibson LG-2 – could you also tell me what’s so special about this instrument and how it informs your playing?

Darren:

Oh man, that guitar is a total babe! I’m so lucky I found her. It’s the first small box I have found that lets me really dig in and doesn’t choke.  You can also play whisper quiet and the tops are just so silky sounding….. I’m in love with that guitar, man. It cuts without ever sounding nasty and there’s not a hint of nasty boxiness. But it’s also not a boomy strum box like the D28 etc. They’re o.k. for some stuff but for what I do a small box is perfect and this is about the best example I’ve played.

Jake:

I May have to translate that  for our readers a little Darren!
I think what Darren is saying is that this guitar allows him to really rhythmically groove, like a steam train, without losing any tone or characteristic timbre and clarity at high or low volumes. Here is what it sounds like:

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QUESTION 9.

It would be great Darren if you could pick five inspirational records and maybe give us a short explanation as to why they resonate with you:

Darren:

1. BB King – Live At The Regal

The ultimate blues performance? Probably. BB King at the peak of his powers. 40ish and taking no prisoners. The band swings like a whorehouse and even the audience is amazing.

2. The Fabulous Thunderbirds – Girls Go Wild

This album totally changed my life. Recorded in 1978 but it sounds like it could’ve been made in the 50s. I discovered Jimmie Vaughan and (harmonica great) Kim Wilson through this album. He was channeling all the great old blues players here – and his tone is to DIE for. Unlike Stevie Vaughan who was all about flash and brute strength, Jimmie had sweet touch and a rare economy of phrasing that puts Stevie in his place I reckon. If you haven’t heard this album I suggest you try your darndest to pick up a copy.

3. Tom Waits – Swordfishtrombnes

I was at high school when I saw a clip of Tom on TV. In a world of vapid synth-pop and dumb ass post-punk pop this record really spoke to me that blues, jazz and weirdness could still be grown and merged successfully. I’m a huge fan to this day. Not particularly about guitar this album but then neither am I really – I always reckon music counts above petty things like what it’s played on.

4. Top Of The Stax – Various Artists

Steve Cropper is a big hero of mine as a writer and a session master. He plays on most of the tracks on this Stax records compilation. He never played two notes when one would do – and how about the total genius of reversing the chords for the intro of Midnight Hour to make the riff for Knock On Wood. And getting away with it! Brilliant.

5. Muddy Waters – His Best 1947-55

This guy did more to teach me about TIME and tone than anyone else ever did. This is the best Muddy compilation and avoids a lot of the later crap that Chess Records led him into in search of a hit.

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QUESTION 10.

Jake:

Thanks Darren – these are great great discs and I think your comments about timing will really, really help some of our readers. Finally I noticed in some of your early performances with the big band sound you`re rocking a rather large quiff that gives you the suave yet dangerous appearance of a riverboat gambler – does this help at all – and can it be performed without blues supervision?

Darren:

LOL – yeah well at least I never sported a mullet, bro!     

Jake:

Fantastic !!
Well there you have it everybody , THE WORD from none other than south pacific bluesmaster Darren Watson. Thank you Darren for talking to us and for giving us such an invaluable insight into your approach to guitar and for sharing your time.

Darren is available for one on one lessons if you are in New Zealand’s beautiful harbour city capital of Wellington.

THE TRUTH ABOUT really great SONGWRITING is that it HAS NOTHING TO DO
with industry, money, production, success, acceptance…

THE TRUTH ABOUT great SONGWRITING is that it HAS EVERYTHING to do with PEOPLE, and their stories, OUR STORIES, the past the present and the future. It’s about having something important to say about matters greater than oneself.  AND a song can be whatever you want it to be as long as you mean it; that way a song takes on an energy and a life of it’s own beyond the here and now.

It’s that simple. Like riding a bicycle.

Written in 2005-6. More soon.

I believe everybody has a record in them. Just as everybody has a novel within them. A great masterpiece. An idea. A vision. A dream. The popular misconception of a rational world is that dreams are merely the misshapen accidents of the subconscious. Not everybody is listening. Not everyone is a believer. Every dream is different.

The question is “HOW FAR are you willing to go to get it finished?”

“HOW FAR are you willing to go to realise it?”

A massive change in direction may be on the cards; after 4 years collecting dreams from the bone people & the landscape a new adventure might be upon the horizon.

An ill wind of red tape comes at a crucial time for the creative process too….

and even though I feel the ship is sinking : it isn’t. People involved are all talk about time and money, their equity. Invisible money, big words. Some are saying the songs are dangerous, ugly, horrible, frightening…

“We need to appeal to as many people as possible, to sell as many units as possible so people who are investing their time can make the right returns on our investment.”

“We can’t use the word cripple Jake.”

“You cant sing songs about murder, suicide, hanging children and heroin.”

“You can’t write that; The Lord of the Flies: no one wants to hear it.”

I think I just did.

If the songs are upsetting the children; if they’re touching a raw nerve, then there must be some truth in them. And they will remain. I may have to take them elsewhere  -  a shame – and lose the effort and the belief of those hereforto involved; but the songs have become gargantuan moai, vast monolithic edifices, looming down from the sky: what they stand for as much as what they actually say is an important quest for fulfillment, the map of the difficult journey and the search for truth.

Being true to oneself and honouring, one way or another dreams, ideas and change. We can honour change by accepting it and hurling our dreams, ideas and vision like golden kites to fly defiantly in its wake.

d7     am                              Eminor
those Eyes that never left the ground,
g7        C          d7       am       em
no-one made a single lonely sound – around
F G C am
the skeleton people with tight yellow skin.
F G C am
sleepin` all day, on heroin,
DM                                   F
the neighbours only found him
C            C/B             when the buzzards fill’d the sky.
Dm                          F
pouring all the kerosene
C          C/B        am
in your singing eyes

descender G – Gb – E
ONE day
the ground will swallow you up -
ONE day
in the tear blown eyes of god
you ain’t nothing but dust,

G D am C
so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song,if you aint got long

d7     am                              Eminor
I watched you break the furniture,  the french flags in tatters,
the guns from your battles warm & beating
AM                                                E   X 4 end on G
lazy beside you, your head in the stream…
lazy beside you your head in the stream…
lazy beside you your head in the stream…
G D am C
a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song,if you aint got long
a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song,if you aint got long

F G C am
frosted glass hangs about her,
guilty men leave the graves of their fathers

DM                                   F
are stringing u p the children
C            C/B              and
 for heavens sakes why ? .
DM                                   F
the neighbours only found them
C            C/B              am
aft’ the buzzards fill’d the sky.
descender
cause in the tear blown eyes of god you aint nothing but dust.

so take a look around, because the circus has left town
and all the heroes are gathering rust.

…some dreams are destined to become the ephemeral, transient, fleeting, angels of the imagination, or fragile, brittle, creatures of clay…

Not all seraphs effloresce into beautiful flying colour; some may fly but fall earthbound from heaven – the filthy offspring of rotting flesh cast to the wind…

this song is in progress.

DREAM BIG or DONT DREAM AT ALL

Back in `o7  – an improvisational  jam live with cool jazz  guitar messenger Wellington’s D-mas…

13

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I call it thirteen cause

“Now there’s number on every man.”

2005

after spending time at the docks and at the historic pub in the valley:

” I asked Davey to come and cut my lawn, but he never blaady did it. It was 6 feet high – he said a chinaman used his lawnomower to hang himself between the boats…”

All the bars are drunk right dry
like Napoleon came here to die
with a sacred codex that ever ry body else..er seems. to… know
pour yaself another bourbon and wait until-a timeball comes down
old ghosts’ll dance the rattlebones in prsion cells across the town
beneath the chapels that falling down
we all fall down

But that was back in `69, when the Queen of Bath went down the sink
Mack says “yowa goddamned liar” and then storms outside to think
but back in the bar with a cluster of stars  he had stolen from the trinket sky
“Never turn your back on a drink” says Mack, but we all know that hes’s a lie

IN walks the local providore, who’s brought his cross to bear,
And drags behind a broken anchor; a sextant and a rusty square,
where rusty hulls of dying fleets are drowning in the Irish bar,
the guitar maker plays the barb wire whilst speaking to his guitar.

silent russian sailors are drinking poison in the seafront hotel
the flaking paint dolls head lampshades glimmer for a different clientele
gramaphonic histories from
broken trombones groan their mysteries
to the people that know me well

I didn’t see the time fall, didn’t hear the midshipman’s bell.

2006

Let not your heart
be so sad baby
jesus gonna meet me in the air

meet me in the air, air
you know my time is soon
meet me in the air
we’ll meet behind the moon

i been trying to reach you baby
in the mountains and the sky
in the distant echo of my memory
it’s no shame for you to cry

meet me in the air
you know my time int long
meet me in the air, maybe
soon I will be gone

upon the clouds, upon a white horse shining
steadfast, faithful and true
eyes aflame and with a head of many crowns
and with a name that no-one knew

met me in the air
you know my time is gone
meet me in the air air baby
you know my time is gone

In `06, out on the plains a second hand bookseller with a good collection of religious pamphlets, guides, and other ephemera  immediately struck upon a small azure blue pamphlet, nothing heavy like the apocrypha – a New Testament piece. When the cover opened, apposite to the frontispiece, etched in the dark blue ink of a fountain pen a handwritten note became the inspiration for this song.

Written in ‘96

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Flick the switch and turn off the machine

[Cauterise] my soul and set me free

Please help me god I cant breathe

_{Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000173 EndHTML:0000002739 StartFragment:0000002368 EndFragment:0000002703}

I only wanna see the sun

(x2 first time)

Collide with space and slowly burn away

_{Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000173 EndHTML:0000002712 StartFragment:0000002367 EndFragment:0000002676}

Cant we heal can we repair ?

Hurts so bad

Hurts so bad

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I only wanna see the sun

(x2 first time)

Collide with space and slowly burn away

Dont cry…the wires
Dont lie, desire…

_{Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000173 EndHTML:0000002739 StartFragment:0000002368 EndFragment:0000002703}

I only wanna see the sun

(x2 first time)

Collide with space and slowly burn away

Flick the switch and turn off the machine

[Cauterise] my soul and set me free

Please help me god I cant breathe

_{Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000173 EndHTML:0000002739 StartFragment:0000002368 EndFragment:0000002703}

I only wanna see the sun

Collide with space and slowly burn away

Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000173 EndHTML:0000003633 StartFragment:0000002370 EndFragment:0000003597

Don’t try to cut the wires

Don’t try to cut the wires

Life support it isn’t life

Life support its just a lie

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13 years after recording this into a YAMAHA MTX3 4 track,  here’s what I laid down as a guide; just faster:

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בַּהֲכִינֹ֣ו מַיִם שָׁ֣ם אָ֑נִי בְּח֥וּקֹו ח֝֗וּג עַל־פְּנֵ֥י תְהֹֽום׃

Last year I did alot of flying – to the studio – for day long guide takes sessions with a plank of a guitar, in the heat.

A strange routing to the desk,  a lack of sleep, the pressure of fast decision making regarding choosing parts, the arrangement of these plus the vocals and the lyrics, the tempo and the need to get back on a plane at the end of the day, all added up to a situation which was not ideal…apart from top end Schoeps microphones & digidesign hardware, plus a feted Stratocaster.

The point is that looking for perfection can often become a barrier to achievement and it applies to everything…

Perfect takes forever, Good takes time, S*** takes just 5 minutes. You choose.

It doesnt matter, the guides are done and we can spend time, or forever, getting things as close to perfect as we want without disappearing into the black hole.

The Decade from Hell is drawing to a close…

…this one has been an indictment of humanity, and one that cast a curse across the death of the American dream and the end of the American century before it. One in which they dug up the fathers of freedom and the ideals of liberty and justice, made of them straw martyrs; soaked in the oil and blood of heroes, innocents, war and greed; lay them out to burn for all of us to witness. God bless the American corpse. The Devil take the warmongers, the banks, the silent few…

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…stormy rough-hewn glory recorded in about 10 minutes using the inbuilt microphone on a laptop, a wineglass, drumstick, table leg and guitar… a missionary song  -

It was one friday morning three years ago
when he appeared the way a cigarette smokes
a name of warning, a lonely sermon about the war
with the truth
He said “theres only them and us, the good lord above
And now; just me and you”

Sho.. he was standing at the side of the road when I come around the curve standin there face and no face,
hangdog determined and calm too like he done desperated himself up for the last time.

[break - fall, break - fall, break - fall]
[for the last time, to take the last chance, for the last last time]

With Blood yellowed eyes and dirty nailed hands
We sealed with signs our terrible plans
Lord strike me down
You dance with the devil else you don’t dance at all
In Jackson town

[break - fall, break - fall, break - fall]
[for the last time, to take the last chance, for the last last time]

Fate and circumstance had brought us together
But memory believes before knowing remembers
I coulda bit my tongue in two when he shot her down
Love and hate is all we got, all we really need
And all we believe.

Take two stolen pistols down that dirty old road
Past a pillar of salt and a yella column of smoke
Hi Ho Silver lightning and away we go, Hi Ho, Hi Ho

A bloodless coward and a prodigal son
A one armed messenger with the rebels gun
Get outta here Judas, you’ll kill us all
(he shot me down)

So sing a song of six cents
And a pocket full of rye
Hoist me like a mainsail…HI HO HI HO HI HO
Swinging through the sky
Onward christian soldiers
Marching as to war
“I never meant to kill her”
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
Where the grapes of wrath are stored
(lord forgive me , please forgive me now)
Stamping out the glory
(lead us not into temptation)
Stamping out the glory
(And forgive us our sins)

Sho.. he was standing at the side of the road when I come around the curve standin there face and no face, hangdog determined and calm too like he done desperated himself up for the last time.

(c) jake edwards may 2008

Some people believe the Ouija board, the talking board, is a simple toy, and some consider them to be highly dangerous objects, capable of opening holes in the fabric of space and time, communicating with Daemons and Elementals. I`ve been working on the Prince of Cats;

those Eyes that never left the ground, no-one made a single sound;
around the sullen faces, maudlin like the poems of inarticulate men staring;
the skeleton people with tight yellow skin. sleepin` all day, on heroin, the neighbours only found him
aft’ the buzzards fill’d the sky.

ONE day the ground is gonna swallow you up - cause in the tear blown eyes of god
you aint nothing but dust,

so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song,if you aint got long

I watched you break the furniture, watched you cut the pillows, the french flags in tatters,
the guns from your battles warm & beating lazily beside you, your head in the stream…

sing a sad, sad song, so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long

frosted glass and crystal pendants hang about her, and guilty men leave the graves of their fathers
on mentholatum painkillers are stringing up the children…
and pouring kerosene in your singing eyes because one day the ground’s gonna swallow you up

so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long,
so sing a sad sad song, if you aint got long

…working fucking hard on sorting through demo tracks recorded hastily under pessure when I wa flying up to the studio alot. It’s time consuming and of course, as everybody knows the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune still fly, and smart so keenly.

Myself right now, well I moved back down south;canned my job – it was sucking the life out of me -  living in an old spare room, next to the washing machine and that’s thanks to the charity of the only real friend I have; with little beyond a bmx bike, some clothes, one laptop, recently collected second hand literature, two mint condition old blues LP`s (muddy waters & ???),  a painting, two vases I don’t need, one stratocaster and one beaten up hofner for slide playing, a collection of rocks, pauau, a dreamcatcher bricolage of  found objects, talismans, feathers, trinkets, rosaries, crosses from as far afield as Barcelona, London, and Waikakahi, Hawea…

One day hopefully I’ll eulogise nostalgically about the good old days when I had nothing…and the washing machine was god.

down at the studio november `08 I cut this guide on the plank:

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We’re currently ‘working’ on the whole Facebook side of things. With three blogs being set up to bleed slowly into the atrocity that is the Face Book Elijah Few page: you can sell your soul to us, dirt cheap by clicking here and becoming a fan. Music, maybe, soon, but I’m going to spend the new, few days sun listening to the sea beneath an ancient arch; with a beat up guitar and sheets of paper blowing…waiting for collapse. One day reality will collapse beneath the vast weight of virtual nothingness we are creating – god bless the future because it’s already fucked up.

Make up your own mind.

It doesn’t matter how you do it.

Everywhere;
seek out miracles; in the mundane and in the everyday, learn to look and write them out across your name.
have heart, have faith, & follow no man’s code,
write them on the water, make them your own,

Desolation angels everywhere….I’m on the road, thank god for freedom; after the sting of disappointment and the hard earthquake work of a tectonic shift is gone comes the mellifluous colour-tones and taste of time, motion; mountain, river and ocean, vision and celebration, dedication and devotion.

Be the water – you cant stay in one place too long but unlike the million raindrops falling on the glass around you  – avoid the path of least resistance. Take the difficult road and be prepared to die for what you believe in…risk everything to complete your vision…just to write and breathe; songs, messages, art that eat worlds…

… embrace talent and celebrate the gifts of others, embrace your good fortune and the power the great spirit sends you; the power to change, transform, connect and grow….fear not your detractors – they are weak and do not understand, they are just the dust in your mouth, the dry sand of windblown bones forgotten in the dance of life…

Fill up the sky with broken stones……Fill up the sky with broken bones…

The hand of the SPIRIT was upon me, and set me adrift upon  a bone filled valley; “Son of man, can these bones live? breathe tendons and flesh and skin and breath?”
Suddenly  a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. tendons and flesh and skin covered them, from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live 
they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army…
we are the bone people…

_{[I will not reduce my music to soundbites; will not compromise; will continue to self doubt; will continue with fits of madness; will do what I want and when; will believe, trust and exist within the great spirit; will learn to accept the daemon; will re-purpose the music altruistically; will not rest; will be patient; will make mistakes; will enjoy the journey; will fight fire with fire & I will burn in hell for it all sooner or later....]}

I’m off the road temporarily;  and, beautiful as it is, the city seems wholly a vestibule of atypical middle class anglo-XXXXXXXX  aspiration and all the dysfunctional bullshit that people THINK goes with it. All the bullshit that will kill your soul, tie you down and really limit your consciousness.

I woke up this morning and crudely, using a cassette recorder, quickly threw down the lyrical amendments I`d written to the world gone track asi t played in the background.. so that rehearsal can start across the water. the sun is shining. it`s rough but a good guide…burning hearts…golden hearts scattered, lonely in the road bleeding…what does it feel like really breathing?

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….and all I feel is a world gone wrong; a new song idea – as ugly as it is beautiful…leaves a taste on your lips that’s just bittersweet. Turei has sent through a very, very rough demo – all the way from Aotearoa, so I put my knife down to the paper and started cutting…

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Hallelujah’s not enough
What does it feel like?
With so much  trouble in the world
An` no matter how hard we try
What does it feel like…really breathing?
To fill up the sky….with broken stones
you know you cant lay down and die now and you know you’re not alone so
Don’t be a liar now because written on the water in a world gone so wrong….

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We separate ourselves through a broken language from the surrounding milieu. Both bird and tree are the same. A guest here says god is an astronaut – if he is; then his ship must be in for repairs or he has abandoned us for a cleaner, less f*&^ked up planet and people elsewhere? Do the quantum notions of great astrophysical thinkers, the musings of Von Daniken or the ’superstition’ of pagan systems offer us any further respite?

How do you know but every Bird that cuts the airy way
Is an immense world of delight, closed by your senses five?

Make your life a labour of love… a cluster of stars; there is no fast track to glory…victory comes not from a simple strategy but from passion, love, necessity – fire. An eternal fight for meaning over mediocrity…years on a ghostly ship and no end in sight look for reflections dancing across the surface of the mighty river. Pieces of the puzzle do not fall immediately from the sky but people appear intermittently in the mist upon the horizon….like the terminal moraine of vast and varied existence on the edges…but that would be futile. We do not have the time for that.

What is writing real emotions? Being able to operate on a median level, taking your experience – the place, the settings, the immediate, the transient fleeting glimpses of the past, the literatures of your own belonging and fusing them together with an imagination that gleams like the flashing of a shield.

You’ve gotta be able to shine….and listen to the rivers speaking.

IF you want to select specific SONGS then use the menu to the right…or read on…

In the sixties people were mobilised against the war in vietnam, youth culture was finding it`s footing…but the world has been reduced to a quintessence of dust & there`s a recession – perhaps it`s economical, perhaps it`s intellectual, perhaps it`s at the heart of everything, Mr. Kurtz – quantum thought, belief and mysticism. Does anyone read Kerouac or Steinbeck?  What the heck? Is everyone wrapped up in a load of irreverent Hollywood plastic surgery necrophiliac celebrity lifestyle televisual bullshit? Another day another city…. or, lost in the wilderness writing lyrics of disposition and seeking unification through re-immersion, or reconnection with landscape…

“The project has gone beyond having a single production value input for me, I`m actually really taking the project beyond the simple idea of it as a product from or for the studio, it`s become more than a product that`s just x, y, z; I’ve invested myself completely into it, it`s become a spiritual and personal project.

“I think I spent so long working on the songs, investing them with time and travel, that they grew out of real experience, the road, loneliness, instability and at the time a connection with only the land.”

Religious people have told me that this is a music of god and called me to play in their church. They are right but Amerindian pantheism, paganism and the church of biosphere is more important to me than allegiance to some mere singular “god” – or vain organised form of deceit – Maybe its all imagined in the solipsistic mind of god – we`re just a part of the universe, emboldened enough to consider self, although more than mere particles held together electrically, an experience – I don`t want to be their damnéd messenger.

Another weekend of recording & mixing is fast approaching – we`re looking to retrack and track as much as possible – songs we tracked a few months back with a plank of a guitar prior to our involvement with Mojo Sound in Wellington.

“It`s peculiar and unnerving in a way to see so many young people walking around with mobile phones and iPods in their ears and so wrapped up in media and video games. It robs them of their self identity. It`s a shame to see them so tuned out to real life. Of course they are free to do that, as if that`s got anything to do with freedom. The cost of liberty is high, and young people should understand that…” Bob Dylan.

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After a couple of weeks off playing an electric I decided to fire up my under the desk guitar rig which consists of a loopstation, a delay and a distortion box into a Music Man amp. After four hours it was about midnight and I was pretty burnt out but I whipped through the footage real quick and here are some random guitar snacks for anyone who gives a damn….

I watched the Motorcycle Diaries yesterday.
I had no idea that Che Guevara was killed in 1967 – that wasn`t so long ago; and with the help of an American Government Agency apparently. Disgusting.

Heroes, freedom fighters, mystics and warriors of consciousness from Jesus to Geronimo, Byron, Malcolm X and more have been persecuted and ripped up by the snarling rats of the “establishment”…

Recorded with no rehearsal and no tune up a couple of years ago whilst travelling aound Aotearoa. This song deals with american history and politics in relation to the 911 terror attacks, the New Orleans flooding and the Tsunami.

Kennedy and Lennon shot down like dogs in the street by parasitic filth and an explosion of increasingly sophisticated advertising together with media, intellectual, and parabolic corporate ownership of the intangible and esoteric: land, time and space- Exxon, Clear Channel, SKY and god knows what else; to help us all feel good while our minds are repossessed and our lands are ripped up.

Since 1967 So much has changed but the human machine. Ugly homogenisation of towns and village streets across the U.K. by monolithic edifices of corporate greed, the blight of surveillance, drunkenness, violence and crime are all allies in an unconscious response…
Travelling around the South Island in New Zealand convinced me that there is a reasonable argument for fighting against eco-terrorism, exploitation and standing up against irrelevant modernisation and the damaging pollutants more often than not labelled as improvement or whatever else bullshit lexicon beaurocrats and other official madmen can use to subvert, bend and lie about the truth. Does anyone care? There are people out there who do; let`s connect.
Our relationship with the land is an integral part of our consciousness. The land is not capable of a lie. More soon.

Music can be inspiration, divination and self exploration within the ancient church of self; your DNA possesses and encodes evolutionary time…….the ancient “church” is everywhere; that is everywhere we haven`t desecrated it with base architectures and  pollutants often incorrectly disguised beneath a veneer of language such as “progress”, “industry”, “change” and more. Water is the carrier and light is the messenger.

Liberte, equality, Egalite…
freedom, equality, egalitarianism; the hypotheses of European Revolutionaries remain still only ideals enoded into arbitrary signs. I recently picked up a copy of the 1962 Freedom Movement songbook – unity & music were at the centre of social change.

Well, its a dirty old world we live in and music is dirty business that`s for sure.  Is it possible to separate your art and your integrity, your ego and your conscience from the business of your product?

Sure. There`s no product without a business model or a channel behind it. Similarly there`s no revolution without subscribers to it`s system of belief or even it`s system of belief marketing. [click to continue...]

Undisclosed message from the edge of hell:

Dear X,

There are two sides to the story and I`m not having mine drowned out…its about bringing the fire and the rain;
about FIGHTING for freedom and saving the land/ our minds from the unrelentless onslaught of media lies, deceit and manipulation in an orwellian world under surveillance, financial manipulation, systems of terror. ….focus upon integrity, justice, egalitarianism – this is actually  a wilderness / road project, ELI-JAH wanders like a ghost through the landscape – vital to our survival. I want to hear and feel some fire; grasp  a cluster of exploding stars. it isnt about saftey – or knocking off the corners…it isn`t about towing the fucking line, it’s a matter of faith not fear; love not hate and life beyond death.

Here is an interpretation of the Song November `08 [george vocals]:

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…European history is littered with the blood of martyrs, saints and the common man killed in the name of untouchable conceits, beliefs, money, freedom and more than anything else the land that no-one owns.

A couple of years ago I suffered a bereavement. I was twisted up driving around going through my own personal hell at the time. Last time I saw her she was “recovering” and glowing like lightning. I knew I`d see her again. But I was wrong & this really brought the world down around my feet. A year later I was driving across the empty plains out of my mind when I came across a lonely chapel in what I`ve recently found out was a utopian community set up by a man with vision.  Doomed to failure all that remains of this mans great dreams are a set of four empty gravel avenues, and the chapel, lined with sycamore trees. I think there may have been a murder there; a tragedy of some kind. I went into the empty chapel, got down on my knees and began to pray. I wrote this close to that that time and threw it down just now as fast as I could. It`s not a lament but a vision too so I guess we all have a streak of idealism on the road or in searching for hope or dreams…

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George has sent over here to California a new song “You lost it all”. Even though it`s been slung together  – he likes to keep things understated and there`s a certain amount of ambivalence and oblique refraction, whatever that means, in the lyrical content although musically it has epic and tragic leanings…meanings are fairly diffuse.  I’m glad to hear you hacking that acoustic up G.` the future looks bright because this style of writing offsets what I`ve been delivering quite dramatically.

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Make what you want of it and read between the lines but I can assure you that the knives are out.

Drowning ants fall from the ceiling, freezing water`s somehow leaking and the floor`s too cold for kneeling in unsuccessfully appealing to some god.

Blood like cold needles that slide; in my veins – corpse candles hanging in the trees and circling stones.
“I never had the shine of a coin in my pocket” the road mender sighed and every one laughed blood, a hundred sagging mouths.

When you have a song idea it`s best to get it down fast. The germ of an idea is all it takes and I `m not here to produce; simply to document in the roughest infancy the intimacy of the idea and capture the moment of inspiration rather than process it.

blood like cold needles that slide in my veins
you fell from heaven in the yellow rain
steal the flowers of the day
singing fragments of a tender song
black embers of a time now gone, burning embers
crosses and candlesticks, conquests and cathedrals now forgotten

little grey angels surround all your gallows
little grey angels surround all you girl
they all scatter just like shadows
they all shadows you cant hold on…to

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(c)jake edwards 2009

After four years with no acoustic guitar writing songs on borrowed planks and often times on my beloved stratocaster with a collection of maybe 6 guitars left to decay, rot, decline and gather dust, rust and cobweb somewhere in an empty cupboard on the other side of the earth I have finally found a plank for myself. Its a simple rather than a complex machine…An old hofner F-hole!  Fortunately the gods here have smiled upon me and hooked me up with Mojo Sound in Wellington for recording with some pricey pricey guitars…

With a mellow, aged, ochre, molasses and diesel sound this baby is just built for percussive, skiffle styles, slide lead lines. It`s great even if it rattles like tthe eeth in an old desert lost skull, and the actions higher than god…

Ive been using my phone for years now to record stuff ..modern technology makes me sick.

Ive just started working on a new song with this new blues guitar but I can`t.

I`m surrounded by more technology right now than used to launch the hubble telescope, video cameras, sound interfaces, computers – windows and mac, photo cameras, mixing desks, amplifiers, electronic drums, p.a.`s and I cant record a single damn riff into any of it…so I`m using my mobile phone and I wish I had a cassette recorder…complexity is the enemy of creativity…

“Blood like cold needles that slide in my veins
You fell from heaven in the yellow rain
Stealing the crimson flowers of day
Black embers shone of a time now gone
crosses & candlesticks, conquests, cathedrals now forgotten”

aeons ago, almost another lifetime – arriving on the plains with a guitar, a bicycle and a rucksack 6 months in the fields taught me the titan majesty of mountains & rivers. I traveled around as much as I could and I slowly built  talismans and people, gifts, and found objects into a huge feathered dream catcher onto the rear view mirror of my van which was my accommodation on excursions across the island…

Four years have passed -  working in a city, a beautiful city, flying to the capital to record songs that came out of the  rivers, mountains, hills and plains…but, this beautiful florid city is sucking the life out of me…I need to work to pay for the recordings, to work in the city to make enough money, but it doesn`t make any sense…

Here are the contents of the slowly assembled “dream machine” mosaic of minds and matter:

…rekiie healers handmade amulet as gift, antique remnants of barcelona spain cathedral prayer beads-rosary the crucifix lost, amerindian ex-girlfriends animal gift from 1999, southshore plastic toy handgrenade, 2006 kaitorete feathers from long walk, emo cow print new brighton bracelet plus two brass bracelets unknown origin, maori doll wellington, plastic sun amulet mid-canturbury plains `06, paua earing and purple feather (now decayed) (both found objects), silver watchchain early 20th century from U.K., american indian silver handmade ring – white feather, working pocket watch trinket originally japan from friend (returned). semi-precious rock collection from Longford river, Waikakahi/Jacobs Bay/Rangitata & Rakaia bed/Motukatuka point – Pauau from Wahine Park, Purau and east coast S.island bays shells…

The last recording sessions went well again with the presence of the underworld, the invisible and the unholy taunting us from the ruins of forgotten lives and lessons. Mojo sound, again helped out with guitar supply and we re-tracked  the guitar parts for Rakaia River a third time and breezed through the anthemic You Lost It All in no time at all. Film Broadcast quality hardware combined with ultra sensonic microphones and expensive Martin timber really makes a difference. We use hardware made by Sound Devices. Messing about with a slide, in natural open tuning can be pretty good fun here`s an outtake from the session…

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The song Architecture of Destiny is an loosely constructed homage to the autistic, but multidimensional City of Glass, The sublime House of Leaves, Beckford`s Vathek and intertwines the everyday, matter of fact relational breakdown, difference and decay within the broader context of an “architecture” of pre-ordained bad luck. I journeyed today with a psychic to an abandoned school built in the early 20th Century;
We live in a  supranatural world.

Click here for a slideshow.

There`s obviously a supernatural tradition innate to the blues lyric and the historical context from which the early blues pioneers emerged.

It`s a subject of great interest both for its pseudo religious supranatural leanings and the degree to which this tradition has been perpetuated… The lone artist, soaked in liquour, absinthe and opium, an artist struggling with, for or against the elements or humanity in defiance of tradition, change, oppression -a freedom fighter channelling the forces of good or evil through a talismanic or demoniacal engagement to the guitar, the pen or the cause. A vocal tradition hoodoo-esque, incantational, evangelical, proselytising, confessional, mean, base or sexual…it’s blue.

We`re using the custom martin guitar to re-record the Rakaia River acoustic guitar tracks and there`s a world of difference. We`re also using Jamesons Irish Whiskey as it gives a warm, mellow tone – this music is made by authentic musicians who play with their boots off and their glasses loaded. Our mix is beginning to sound exceptionally smooth, with complex flavours of toasted wood, spice and sherry, superbly mellowed by time…Elijah Few recommends Jamesons Irish whisky, and, for Scotch The Balvenie and Lagavulin. Now it would be easy to suggest that the mystical otherness of the whiskey has infused our recording with the warmth and oak mellowed manuka tones we`ve been seeking but the fact of the matter is that  now we`re using 8 grands worth of acoustic honey.

Thanks to Pete at Mojo Sound here in Wellington we`ve just picked up the Aston Martin of Martin guitars – a custom model Martin valued at around 8 thousand dollars. This particular Martin has an acoustic tone that is smooth, rich and highly natural; bright, lively and warm with an entirely even response across the strings. Its a breeze to play and when simply strumming an E chord resonates with rich, manuka, gently oscillating overtones.

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Dylan`s wicked messenger is a lesson itself in palimpsest – layering obscurity, ambiguity and obfuscation. I used to jam with Kenny Jones and the very first Faces album, after the Small Faces disbanded, had a great cover of Bob Dylan`s Wicked Messenger. I`m back in a recording studio for the next week and the results will be here – The Elijah Few project is now being supplied guitars by MOJO SOUND in Wellington – and who else… they understand tone, check them out. Here`s a riposte to Dylan’s pseudo-western-biblical mysticism. [click to continue...]

So go on down to that big old river and sit on down amongst a million lonely stones. Contemplate your past and your future, where they collide. There isn’t really much worse a man can do than kill another man – destroy his gods, his belief. Truth is you can do it any number of ways – words, lies, deceit – try to break his spirit. It can be damn hard not to give way to your anger if vengeance, revenge or retribution are on your mind. A flood comes suddenly and without warning. The river song: a complex intertwined sequence of real experience, fictional events and the influence, recollected, of a million literary tragedies…of dynasties and histories, rendered unto dust…and washed away…Each river is a beautifully human and poignant book- a condensed history of human experience.

Rakaia River Sneak Preview

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[click to continue...]

What is it about old guitars, old planks, old timber, old gold even? Who knows? Analogue or digital? I`d definitely rather listen to an L.P. or even better still a 78 on my gramophone.

If you write from experience you will develop a sense of place, character, a message, tone, symbolism, imagery, and figurative language, metaphor and simile. Ignore everybody and never even consider any filthy dirty money. Remember though the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Today I picked up the awesome Sonny Terry & Brownie McGhee – Midnight Special album and the Muddy Waters` album I`m ready (produced by the mercurial Johnny Winter). Waters` style is particularly inspired in it`s use of Microtones. I also managed to find the 80`s Hendrix compilation Crash Landing which I hadn`t seen for twenty years or so. My old friends in the band the Beautiful People sampled alot of it on their release If 60`s were 90`s.

Well, it`s a very simple and easy methodology I use when it comes to songwriting. After 20 years of blistering licks, absorbing the music and magic of feedback, of tonal exploration, of distortion, of brainwashing with as many records as I could get my head around I found that alot of this “learning” would get in the way, that alot of equipment, amplifiers, effects, preconceived notions, riffs, hooks, rhythms and ideas just don`t even help with writing a song. It`s like writing, you can pin it down to a set of motifs, a set of ideas, devices and techniques…but these alone do not a great piece of work create. You need genuine experience. Remove from view all the pillars in your sight. I find the hardest guitars to play, and don`t mess about with any kind of notions of playing finesse as you can see in the video on my other posts. Writing a song aint about playing the guitar.

WE live in an age of surveillance and ORWELLIAN control by drug companies, oil companies, banks; telecommunications companies and systems – a world in which the basic inheritance of life such as air, water, LAND, speech, time and perception are increasingly monopolised, trademarked and owned by the few. My life and my work is informed by an increasingly rare commodity – FREEDOM. You can find it between the leaves of a thousand years of knowledge…

A book is a bomb. A book is a time machine.
A book is a recruitment device. A book is mantra. A book is terror.
A book is enlightenment. A book is life. A book is death.
A house of Leaves and a city of Glass.

original video version of the Rakaia River Murder song. This version was recorded into a camera whilst living on the floor at a friends house maybe 4 years back?
(I wrote all this song near Rakaia from 2005-2006 and recorded them in 2007).

I`d been out on the road, travelling around, living in a van. Hanging out. It was a metaphysical journey. 6 months re-reading Desolation Angels on the inverse hemisphere.Anyway, I didnt tune up too tight, didnt rehearse at all, placed the lyrics on the floor and hit record on a cheap Canon camera. I separated the audio and the footage later. If I can find it I`ll dig it up and post that too.

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another 2005 song but conjured up from the south island wilderness, out there somewhere in the gold country…again, was recorded into a cheap camera, off the cuff one afternoon – I was living on a friends floor for a while.

There`s no focus upon quality, production value or even delivery here, just making a recording from emotional and metaphysical experiences out in the wilderness, travelling light, living in a van, on the road.

the river became central to my experience…at the end of my time, the mother of pearl crucifix I wore around my neck for a decade had cracked and broken – on my last journey through the gorge cast my crucifix into the waters …When I came back into the countryside the following year,  the river welcomed me in high flood, submerging islands, wreaking havoc. I was inspired by true tales – real lives. sometimes anger and the devil will blind and trick you; choose the way of the gun and a vengeful Miltonic god or cast yourself asunder, through the tides.

Loneliness, happiness and in between. Back in time when I lived on the other side (of the world) I sat in an interview and watched the twin towers exploding in outrageous fury right in front of my eyes.

Much like the Kennedy assassination we all knew there were going to be a few survivors, scapegoats, betrayal, fury, greed and a litany of lies, hollow promises and bitter recrimination. Every time I drive by that twisted, burnt, heat melted, white hot new york metal, the skeletal remains, the old bony fingers pointing helplessly skyward into space, to a god looking down upon the shame and the deceit, the lies, the cowardice and the damage done to the hearts of every man woman and child alive, breathing and capable of now understanding what a hollow piece of rock we inhabit, and what a terrible thing we have doe to ourselves.

I usually write out about four pages of spontaneous poetry or material and work backwards from there. Some of the material comes directly from headlines recollected from memory. Betrayal, fury , suspicion and greed came through the television. I try not to watch it.

I spent at least 6 months, more like a year, cutting down the words, ridding them of complexity, making them simple and making them count.

[your television will help you objectify our gross global cultural output: there is very little beyond the smattering of charity, hope and faith except for violence, sex, death, destruction, greed, monopolising, pollution and a vast modern ACEDIA.]

911. kennedy. CIA. FBI.

Money should be the last thing on your mind when you pick up a guitar. F**k the money. If you get any, give it away. video features from 2005 The Way of the Gun – recorded live , with no rehearsal and no tune up.

I wrote previously here about perfectionism. My recent day long recording session with a plank of a guitar, a boiling hot studio, a strange routing to the desk, lack of sleep, the pressure of fast, fast decision making regarding choosing and recording guitar parts, the arrangement of these plus the vocals and the lyrics, the tempo of the song and the need to get on a plane at the end of the day, (which meant not using a Martin acoustic) all added up to a situation which was not ideal. Ideally I’d like a Martin acoustic, plus my Strat into two Session amplifiers for a great stereo mix. But hell who wants to let go of their Martin and leave it to the vicissitudes of baggage handling, not me no way.

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SO go on down to that big old river and sit on down amongst a million lonely stones all tired and old muddy coloured its no good driftwood company

There`s a storm rolling in inking up the sky downwind
So she goes down to the edge of the water and fills her pockets with stones
whilst behind heer crippled daughter weeps and moans

Three bells toll in the clock tower warning
the water`s gonna rise by the hour of morning
the moon goes down while the wind blows up some meaner weather
black topped seeds rattle the rakaia river

Theres a storm rolling in inking up the sky downwind
She slowly sinks into the fast flowing water
pulled way down by the weight and the cold
there`s no prayer and no way that we oughta
let anybody know

Meet me where the waters freeze, beside the telegraph trees
And set your crosses free down upon the water
Go call the priest to say a prayer down into the canyon
Her rusty chair hidden by a chapel abandoned

Theres a storm rolling in inking up the sky downwind
Eyes shining like the moon on the stones
Eyes smiling the crippled daughter
As her mother walks home

Theres a storm rolling in inking up the sky downwind
You were warned vengeance in the sky
vengeance in the sky

(c)Jake Edwards 2005
Ive been holding onto these particular pieces of paper for about 4 years from continent to continent.
(I wrote this song near Rakaia and recorded it in 2007).

Well after finding myself back on the killing floor I`ve finally managed to get some time together in between dodging the exploded portions of my life that are falling out of the sky, to post some of our preliminary music work. Here it is, the song took 3 years experientially to write, maybe more; here`s one extremely hot day`s worth of work using the aforementioned plank and the good old stratocaster. Not bad for a days demo work, composition and maybe a quick twenty minutes of mixing and a little e.q.-ing. Shame the acoustic tuning is all over the joint. No matter, Ive got some very very special guitars lined up for the real sessions, this is just the precis.

It`s hard to understand probably exactly how crucial the overall feel is without some insight into the lyrics. I`ll post them soon under the Rakaia River category.

So here`s the compressed MP3 version.

Rakaia River Murder one

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You can`t make something out of nothing, but too much nothing will make a man feel ill at ease. Worldly possessions; you cant take them with you. But this is the 21st century too. Better be sure to put a value on the things you really care about, because at the end of the day, nothing material counts for jack shit. Look after your soul and travel light. Ignore the media and don’t buy any of their crap. Suddenly I own too much and then Suddenly everything evaporates. Maybe I bought into myself too much.

1.fender stratocaster, leads, pedals, small amp, pair of cans, small midi keyboard
2.laptop, hardrive, leads, mbox mini
3.Small pile of books
4. small car
5. Bicycle x 2
6. rucksack with clothes, 3 pairs of shoes, 2 caps, 1 broad brim hat
7. large collection of rocks, pauau, and 1 cactus.
8. couple of paintings, a few pictures, mobile telephone
9. pile of cd`s including Subterranean Homesick Blues, 6 cassette tapes, Big Lebowski & Dylan other side of the mirror dvd
10. battered hofner side guitar

Having said all that it sure is uncomfortable without table, chairs, or bed. Sadly though at the end of the day you only have yourself; and yourself to blame. That last breath you breathe is gonna be mighty lonely but at least its brief. There`s only the in between. Truth might get in the way of a good story, but life’s cold hard realities will never get in the way of a good song…

Musicians: jug jazz, blooze infused, dirty earbash, folk country, streetside hicksville freakshow. Howlin`  Troutmask intertronic groove message 40 feet beneath the dirty city space. Jack Kerouac in the vicinity listening to a scanner ….

I`m trying to find the time between finding the time for other time consuming life paraphernalia to get the original lyrics, and the original riverside recordings/videos up here to track how these songs have slowly been brought to fruition over the last few years. I originally kept the songs in my head for a couple of years and on scraps of paper which have travelled with me across the globe, island to island, continent to continent in an old book. And managed, finally whilst on an itinerant Kerouacian mission throughout Aotearoa at some point maybe 18 months ago, to record them into a cheap old camera. The great thing is these recordings already sound 100 hundred years old and I just threw them down with no tune up or practice. In this sense I suppose they hold soem kind of authenticity.

I`m pretty fond of anecdotes, they sound so great; but then again is there any truth in them? Who knows. Most of life is conversation and therefore prone to becoming anecdotal. Some people live off them. Some people live inside them. Some people foolishly become them. Anyway I cant remember who said it; it was either Keith Richards, Jeff Beck or someone similar and Ive paraphrased it and embellished it myself over the years:

“I dont like the idea of my guitar signal floating around in the air man. Otherwise I`d record in space.”

What`s interesting is that during the last Elijah Recording session because of some weird routing anomaly problems my guitar signal took a rather tortuous and circuitous route to tape (hard drive). Here it is:

1. Guitar 2. Into transmitter. 3. Through air. 4. Into 2nd transmitter. 5. Into Sound Devices recorder.

6. Into Pro Tools interface. 7. Into desk & Computer.

I think thats it.

Flew into GRUNGE city. The drive from Seattle down to San Francisco California and especially Mount Shasta is awesome. It`s great to be on the coast ! Last time I was up in Washington state I was fortunate enough to spend sometime in the mountains with a Winchester rifle. I love America.

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Hyper busy at the moment just cant get enough sleep from city to city. More news soon.

For a while now (Ten Years) I`ve been really into the Jeff Beck road to guitar sounds and that`s a simple dirty old fuzz pedal (hot cake anyone?) into a great amp. Got my stratocaster bridge set up in a unique way so its a bit of a bastard to play too, you have to earn everything with it – you don`t have to fight it but it doesnt give too much away either. The vastly tactile approach of a used strat has all the character and excitement of a divining rod in a lightning storm as far as I`m concerned.

I`ve been really keen on using AWARD SESSION amps since I first tried one in 1990-91. I finally got my hands on one in 1999. They were known as the British Mesa Boogie and Clapton used a couple on his album Behind the Sun.

No-one has anything much to really to say, unless it’s to complain; babies cry, people come and go, dogs sniff. There are the late, the tidy, the punctual, the forlorn, the forgotten and the frequent.The professionals looking slick adjust their chunky watches and loosen their ties. The youth pretend it isn’t happening: bullet proof they are.

The Depature lounge. Are you ready for take off? You might never come down. Do the ghosts of the dead in crashed airliners roam endlessly like a broken malfunctioning Jesus across the watery surfaces of the worlds carnivorous oceans? Or do they drown too, leaving their traumatised bodies in the great deep watery grave?

Flight 666 is currently boarding destination Davey Jones’ Locker. This is the Last Call for passenger Jake Edwards – please make your way to gate 888 immediately.

The plane is late and there are a lot of people sweating it out in the departure lounge. It’s hot and humid. I’ve flown hundreds of times but the more frequently I do it lately the less I trust the technology.

On the ground observing aeroplanes in the southern sky, they appear so low, look so surreal, impossible, too huge as though the whole thing is some elaborate sham, some kind of fake illusory moon landing confidence trick. I’m not ready yet to make my departure from the planet. I haven’t finished. I don’t want my body torn to ribbons at 500mph in an explosion of water-concrete, shearing shards of metal.

The emergency position is just a convenient way of ensuring that your spine is driven quick-fast into and through your skull and brain when you hit the ground. Lean forward, place your head between your arms brace yourself against the seat in front…and relax. Leave your seat in the upright position and keep your seatbelt on so we can identify you quickly and easily, by row and number… This is the inconvenient, tiring bullshit I’m putting myself through just to get a few songs done.

In the studio my personal choice is to never settle for just a click track – always use a rhythm section if you can. At the check in I want an option for a parachute but just settle for getting stung another 25 bucks because of my guitar instead.

Good morning everybody Welcome aboard todays flight 666 I am captain Ahab and we will be cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet but don’t worry we have issued each and everyone of you with a small yellow life jacket should we plummet mercilessly like a comet from the calm blue mediterranean sky toward earth below.

I need to get a few more expensive guitars & I’m still finding it “challenging” throwing away 20 years of blues styled guitar techniques and sonics when it comes to modern studio work…. Just lately I’m looking at a 2000 year old kauri parlour bodied hand made 6 string with a narrow neck. It costs 2000 dollars so that’s a dollar per year for the wood. Not bad and nearly as old as I feel after a week of media work and flying back and forth. Reach under your seat. As long as I’m floating dead in the water my lifejacket will help the clean up teams pick me out.

Dehydration air conditioning

…using a really strange routing into the desk  and thrown away all of yesterdays tracking & hopefully with an intense days work we can get this demo off the ground. It`s 6.44 and we`ve finished tracking all the acoustic and all the lead and rhythm parts on the electric guitar, the stratocaster plus and the plank in one day. Oh and basic drums and some rough bass as well. It`s been intense and very hot. The original title is the RAKAIA RIVER MURDER. While everyone else has been chilling out on the beach in front of the studio we`ve been inside laying down as much creative work as we can, fighting the increasing humidity and working up a sweat. It has definitely been worth it. I havent time to listen to the demo mix because I need to eat something and get on the plane. Here are a few pictures.

Another busy day in the studio. After yeserdays warm up re-tracked all the acoustic parts on the dreadful plank which I`ve been fighting all damn weekend. Play it, tune it, play it, tune it &cetera….like I mentioned in an earlier post – yeah I`m going to burn it come the winter months even if I have to pay  for the priviledge and the pleasure.

We`ll be using Mojo’s Martins next time…

- is human emotion merely temporal expression?

The original acoustic parts were laid down on the dirt cheap,tree-trunk, low-end, low-performance, collection of guitar shaped, firewood you can see here in the center picture. I`m saving it for winter, when these recordings are done and I`m going to toss it in the fire where it belongs.

Some seriously expensive SCHOEPS microphones in a multi million dollar environment. The pressure was on for me to sing and play 4 tracks that I hadn`t played in a year.

The Rakaia River Murder,
Wicked Messenger Returns,
The Architecture of Destiny,
Life Support,

Do what you want – in music, art, work, wherever possible. If someone notices that`s great. But, if they dont , so what? You are still doing what you want.

… there is nothing more dangerous than a book.

A book is a bomb. A book is a time machine.
A book is a recruitment device. A book is mantra. A book is terror.
A book is enlightenment. A book is life. A book is death.
&cetera

read – change your life, open your head up like psilocybin and travel across the universe. If you aren`t forever changed, go back and find books that work.  If you think books aren`t one of the secrets to understanding the universe then you are wrong…. the work of the cosmos, that’s secret number one.

I`m nearly healed enough to get back out the guitar and start cooking a little; so much about dynamic playing for me comes from posture, which is only a part of the way you relate to an instrument, not forgetting attitude, focus, flexibilty and tone. Having good ears isn`t just about what you play either, it`s about listening to the producer, listening to the client and really getting to grips with THEIR vision – if you can assimilate that into the right stylistic lexicon you are onto a winner. What makes it exciting is that it`s not a precise science but an emotional one; like any literary conceit multifaceted and fractal but what usually happens is you pick up the instrument and the client says….I need some of that. You have to distill their emotional connection to the song….So back into a studio and this is what I will be doing.

Paper

I`ve been carrying these songs around for about 3 years; one of them for at least ten…the ideas within them are obviously a lifetimes work. I started discussing songwriting previously on this blog and I`ve already suggested there is no “one way”, no method, no guide… Being patient also helped. Initially I kept the songs on paper, working on them every day, for about a year; then I recorded them into a camera as a video and extracted the audio. Just to get them down. I kept working on them. Another year passed and I played one to a producer. A year after that he invited me to record them. I didn`t really set out to make any of these things happen. Muga mushin. I’ve been collecting ides on paper all my life. Boxes of it. BY the time my life is over I`ll have used it all. Today a lonely drifter I befreinded beneath abridge told me a story that would put the Da Vinci Code to Shame…..tomorrow I seek him out and write it all down….

…there is no substitute for pen and paper IN ANYTHING, FOR ANYTHING…..

…to design anything start on paper, to design a song – start with pen and paper, and, take to it your experience.

I once met a girl in a Sauna, told her I was a musician, she invited me back to her place; besotted with fame, glory, cinema and singing. She played her music, it was all wrong, she couldn`t sing, the lyrics were meaningless. She read some of her screenplay – it was plotless, unfinished rubbish and she couldn`t tell me what it was actually about. She popped some pills and told me she was an actress destined for great things. Apart from being on the unwholesome and anorexic side of thin she was also mildly delusional. Her imaginary world existed quite wholly and was manifested through her sacred laptop. It would deliver her into the welcoming arms of global success and wealth; her screenplay was going straight to Scorcese or Jackson or some other cinematic mogul. She was going to ring them up and email it through. No sweat, it was going to be that easy for her. I slyly asked if she had Bob Dylan`s number `cause I  just wanted a quick chat.

I met her again six months later in a different city and her laptop had been stolen, and now she couldn`t write. I laughed, sardonically, I laughed out loud, said she oughta use a pen, it would help her, the theft was a gift in disguise. A chance to write properly, a chance to become productive, a chance to lose that fucking laptop reliant cant face reality mindset. Its very easy to think you are working when you aren`t, being productive when really you aren`t. The mind has a great way of tricking itself, like an ear will always try to hear in tune or in time, to make sense from disparate, dissonant elements. She said,

“What the f@#k do you know you`re hardly famous are you?”

No one worth a damn is doing anything for those reasons. She just couldn`t see the wood for the trees. It was no big deal but I`d just been on the television that week playing guitar besides…it didn’t mean a thing. I laughed again and left. It`s easy on a long journey like art or music or in developing your life`s work, your oeuvre, or discovering and beginning your mission to become waylaid by bad reasoning, to taste a bit of glory and start doing things for all the wrong reasons. If you are involved in something just for the glory, the fame, the gold and all that other “rockstar bullshit” you will probably fail. I spent the nineties working so damn hard and furiously towards some kind of selfish ego-driven success but it was only when I finally relaxed and started to do things for all the right, altruistic, selfless reasons that things started to come together. I started doing things for no reason at all in fact. I threw my ego away; smashed my old life and self to pieces, picked up the good bits and hit the road on a Kerouacian road trip mission of discovery with no real plan apart from the experience itself.

Well in an intense X day period in the studio with my producer I`ve managed to track 4 songs, using the unlikely combination of some very expensive Schoeps microphones, some incredibly expensive top end pro-tools hardware/software, a million dollar environment and a borrowed acoustic nylon string guitar worth around 50 bucks. But its a small step in the right direction….

I spent the weekend swimming with friends off the epic East coast ocean beneath the stars above the rivermouth and at hard to find Honey Bay. Extra thanks to Pete and aqualunged for half an hour to return with crayfish which we all cooked, fresh on the beach fire: an iconic day at the beach…Sleeping on the clifftop above the spit and exploring the startlingly varied coastline of geographical collapse and debris, collecting stunning Abalone shells, plus swimming and cooking al fresco is a great way to recover from the clinical confines of ten days in the studio. Sure there`s a correlation between the rhythmic waves of the ocean and differing states of consciousness. No television, no telephones, no problem – talking to god!

Paua

Unfortunately we`re all too busy in the recording studio to make time for blog posts, so I apologise for the lack of content herein. Contrary to popular belief Studio time is intense, demanding, unsociable and very hard work requiring high creativity coupled with an unusually high level of productivity. You have to know your stuff, think very fast and turn on your skills like a tap. You need vision, experience, technical capability and imagination, but also need to work within the clients remit. The key is in manipulating your own strengths to fit within the overall vision of the project but it`s no different from any client engagement. `Listen and listen good`, there is no room for ego, only for brilliance. You don`t have to bury your personality beneath a lacklustre, formulaic veneer but flair, discipline, enthusiasm and professionalism are key elements. In a way youve either got it or you ain`t…but you can always improve your chances.

think about  the land, sea, sky and people -  a more spiritual, pantheistic, platonic, people focused consciousness & life – moreover as an invaluable essence of the universal fabric…..Collaborative work on dreams is where it`s at.But not fluffy, blue sky immeasurable dreams that can never lead to fruition. BE surrounded by PEOPLE who actually care about you. People who are beautiful on the inside. You need to care very deeply about the people around you and also about yourself if you really want whatever you are doing to fly.If vague posturising, bandwagon jumping and self centred goals are what drives your vision, prepare yourself for failure….
mauriora

n’

_{Last time I was in London I attended a party replete with goldfish bowls in the stairwells, famous chef, name dj and a stunning view of Tower Bridge, the Gherkin and the Eye. It was pretty good and the champagne was flowing. I also attended a business meeting in the West End. I arrived at around 12 and left at four. We made our way to the Tube/Underground afterwards to say farewell. As I stood within a maelstrom of bodies pouring in and out the entrance to the Underground I realised with complete acuity that if I had expired and fallen to the floor no-one would have paid the blindest bit of notice at all.}Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000186 EndHTML:0000043111 StartFragment:0000002570 EndFragment:0000043075

The architecture of destiny 2005

The conversation thus ignored flies on up towards the yellow ceiling

Cant decipher being bored, cant decode this desperate feeling

Whilst the truth fights the trash on the garage floor

Between the rotten old chairs and the broke down doors

And the rusty old cars, that rot out on the lawn

And I just don’t care

Really I don’t anymore

You say we`re all equal but some more equal than others

Who does the judging and as your god discovers

Your history is all lies and all your truths are whores

Call all your prophets, call your disciples call them to your cause

Your suffering fathers and all your surrogate mothers

To wash all your dishes and sort out the cupboards

The kids start to fight and the rain beats the shutters

Theres a howling in the wind for Jacqueline, but she only mutters,

Strange cries in the kitchen the antenna just stutters

Smoke ourselves to death outside whilst the rain fills the gutters…

And of course you`re just so, over it all, and you say I don’t give nothing

back at all

Oh mercy me, bad luck designed

Oh mercy me, bad luck design, my destiny

Three sisters in the distance their resistance fills my eyes

They fight the amber rain, whilst silently we drive

Im waiting at the station for the future to arrive

In this desperate situation the conversation… slowly dries

There`s Jesus at the crossroads hanging out to dry

Abandoned by his god baptized in thorns and lies

And even that kids got something to say

When the arguments don’t go your way

Its okay I`ll leave all my faults here at the door

You can stamp them all out as they creep across the floor

Guess it`s just a change youre going through, guess its got something

to do with the moon

Oh mercy me bad luck designed         

Oh mercy me bad luck design

I think the house is talking to me, asking me to leave

You fucking friends who hang around are just old buildings falling down…

Falling down.

In november `08 three years later I went down to the studio to cut a guide track and see if I could make it through the song:

Architecture of Destiny guide track

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

… I could write a million acerbic verses…..

… I have been blasted in the stomach with a 12 gauge shotgun. An almost constant fiery, burning sensation and high loss of mobility means I`m reduced to lying or sitting down and minimal movement. Sometimes movement is nigh on impossible but I`m improving already, although my wallet is dead. The anaesthetic rapidly sent me into a state of amnesia and suspended animation with no recall or recollection whatsoever, to awake feeling euphoric, because of the morphine /heroin but several hours later began to wear off, resultant in burning, aching pain and low mobility.

What is interesting about some amnesiacs is that those with a damaged hippocampus cannot imagine the future, cannot use past experiences to construct possible future scenarios. I have 150mg of Codeine to get through each day (plus panadeine) and anti-inflammatory drugs. Codeine is an alkaloid found in opium and other poppy saps like Papaver bracteatum the Iranian poppy.