20 years of making music. From lonely to loved. I was writing and recording through it all. Broke and broken I normally was, early on. But everyday...up or down... John was there. John Malloy. We met as kids and grew up together. That's the simple version. Volumes and volumes can be written from that sentence. When it came to music...he taught me everything. John is music. He is a pure talent. His songs for me are an invited haunting. Warm words that promise not to leave until you feel safe. His work is kind and patient, just like him. A goodness one mustn't rush. The art of listening and being still was never lost on John. His excitement for sound and lyric was gifted to me when we were young. Every song written together we bonded over and every song we wrote apart we exchanged. 4 track tape recorders, popping mics, broken strings and flying picks were our language. Freezing street corners, busy central squares, parks and church basements were homes for singing...roaring...learning. We were walking white canvas begging for experience to spatter us and make our words sting and our melodies heal. Gorilla recordings, shit sound...hiss...pops...people...trains....we prayed to God our sound wasn't clean. Perfect is boring. Punk Rock that Start/ Stop button...hit it hard! I don't care it ain't pretty!...offer contempt a chance to stab conformity damn it! Simply hit record and bleed. Clean is silent. Silent is dead. So come in and become art you noises and brutes. I dare you. Land and rest on these songs forever and ever. And anything we pull down from the sky...is a happening...a moment...a gift. The gift is the moment. The performance. Is it honest? Yes?...Than it's good. Move on. Hurry...lets write another before we die!
We learned that together. 20 years of it. So here we are. 2021. Is it time to remember? Maybe a retrospective? But I'm an album guy and not crazy about collection records. They rarely feel right. They can feel like a bad buffet. Dishes that have no business sharing the same plate.. How do I even do that? Should I even do that?...No. I can't do that.
So I didn't...I didn't know how. But maybe John could?
John was the only one who could. The only one who was there from even before the beginning. Would he thou? Well, he would it turns out. He did. I gave him free reign. He could choose anything he wanted. Make a mix tape like when we were kids. 21 songs. 21 by John. I told him he had until December. Eight hours later he was done. He had his album...of my songs.
I love him like a brother. Every song I ever wrote has his DNA. In many ways these songs are just as much his. I thank him for the gift of music. Music saved my life. John saved my life. We offered contempt a chance to stab conformity...together.