Not so long ago, musicians made demos, and, ahem, pre demos. Maybe now we'd say pre-pre-production, sketches not meant for public airing. In the absence of anything "official" from this time, I present a Maxell XLII tape labelled simply "pre demo 12/93 2/94"...a snapshot of, perhaps, an emerging voice. The recording itself is now part of the story, replete with creaks, squeaks, hissing, moaning, bumps, warbles, and shape-shifting jellyfish cadence. The bigger story of our fading archives is we're liable to lose them altogether. Of course, all things are sand paintings, but might as well enjoy what we can if/while we can. Regarding this music, some of it eventually graduated to the full-fledged demo stage, though I'm not sure if copies exist now. My friend Deb Blease ably & kindly handled all phases of the project's documentation using what seemed cutting edge recording equipment; the room we were in was prepared to be acoustically rewarding and aesthetically pleasing. (I remember her enthusiasm and patience. I remember the smell of fresh wood paneling. I remember the quality of winter light through the window. It was for me on par with Le Studio or some such hallowed chapel: snow falling outside, artistic fervor itching to get out.) Some of the song titles are long forgotten, but I announce Fire Checkers, Tree Chant, Untitled Lullaby (later called Unsung Lullaby), The Walk (this one I kept with for a while) and you'll hear my take on Amazing Grace as well. I was using an Ovation Roundback guitar, I'm pretty sure on all the songs. I hear my formative interests (the Michaels Hedges & Manring, the thrash gallop) loud and clear, though there's more than a hint of how, still, I hear. I'd like to imagine my music has expanded and deepened exponentially, my proficiency matured, but it's still me, then and now. Something was blooming out the difficulties I had as a young person; I'm so glad for music in my life to help the process of becoming less fragmented. A note on sequencing: I left this digital presentation as one long track to give a sense of the cassette protocol, the spacing and handling noise integral to the paracosm. Oh, by the way, cassettes age gracefully. May we as well. Thanks for listening.
released November 29, 2017
recorded 12.93 & 2.94 by Deb Blease in Orono ME
cassette captured by Killick Hinds at H(i)nds(i)ght Studio, Athens GA 12.28.17
cover by Killick Hinds
One of my favorite albums ever! It beautifully captures the sound and spirit of where we live. I was honored to be the engineer for the session, and it is a highlight in my history as a record mogul. Killick