The Great Consolidation

Interview with Carlculation Infinity

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 19:47:00 +0000

Here's an interview I did recently with Carlculation Infinity.

FREE DOWNLOAD for the Loverrrrrrrrs

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 22:29:00 +0000

Here is a cover Lex Land and I recorded a few years back. Download it for free:

Tonight You Belong To Me by Lex Land & Gavin Castleton

I'm coming out of retirement for 4 shows in CA

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 26 Dec 2012 17:00:00 +0000

BACK FROM THE DEAD TO BLAZE YOU:

Free Download - Holiday Hit Song "Tangerines"

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 17:00:00 +0000

It's that time of year when I suddenly get gooey-eyed thinking about how a bunch of people I don't even know support me and help me do what makes me happy. Here is a free hit song I offer as "thanks" to you - it's guaranteed to cheer you up this holiday season:

Tangerines by Gavin Castleton

Lyrics:
We gather at my sister's house on Christmas Eve
I tip toe through the snowflakes shaped like nephews and nieces
and I wish I had my son with me, but he died last year
It's only he knows what I went through just to still be here

and everything has changed
the only thing constant is

Tangerines
in my stocking again
Tangerines
something I can depend on

And the older I get, the more I miss the pulse of an old religion
as it becomes harder and harder for me to identify my breadcrumbs,
and I start to see the value of traditions like

Tangerines
like my mother used to give us
Tangerines
like my sister has continued
Tangerines
a fruit that bookends my years
Tangerines
they come as steady as the tears

And I used to brush off this stuff
when Lu was just a pup
but now I know

if you anchor yourself to the biggest things
they will pull you down when they start to sink
when drifting off to sea it's best to cling to simple things like

Tangerines
in my stocking again
Tangerines
one thing I can depend on

Tangerines
like my mother used to give us
Tangerines
like my sister has continued...

Hope and Batteries - Chapter What

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 15:37:00 +0000

The first forty-eight hours were the hardest - not because they'd spent its entirety sloshing through the McCormick woods, and not because a square off with the Warrington Creek had earned the woman six stitches above her left eye. No, the hard part had little to do with the grueling search itself, and everything to do with the hope that fueled it. The hope in those first two days was so strong that it might have well been surety; they were convinced that thoroughness, persistence, and endurance would be deciding factors in determining the head count of their four-year-old family. Hope made it imprudent to eat, drink, or sleep.

The second night was even more urgent than the first. They knocked on every door from the Wise's down to the old Jetstream on Chauncy owned by the veteran, Mr. Carter, and nobody had seen nothin. By that time they were so unraveled that both had forgotten to buy batteries before Walgreens closed. So they harvested the attic's Christmas boxes for candles, the camping gear for lanterns, and the boy's beloved Casio keyboard for the last existing D batteries in the suddenly barren house. When those ran out, they drove the Suburu out to Jerico Prairie, pierced its briared coat where the oat grass was newest, and shot the headlights straight out into the nothing they found there. The car died only minutes before dawn, "passing the torch" as it were. They walked home, dazed and distant.

On the third evening, the woman crashed hard. She'd returned to their place on Carbuckle to call her folks, when in walked Officer Stutzman tweezing a muddy sock in his gloved hand. He'd fished it out of a tire swing behind Shoals Elementary. Her husband was hanging signs outside the Wallmart when she called him in a wash of hysterics. It took him a painfully long time to get the whole story out of her, and in the end it wasn't much of a story: the sock was white, Fruit Of The Loom, and Medium-sized. Unfortunately, so were those of a good twenty other boys in the neighborhood. And furthermore, the last sighting of their son was on the opposite end of town. But the woman needed that sock ever-so-badly... They'd been floating through those first few days so anchorlessly, waiting for something to point them up or down. She refused to see the sock as pointing any way but up, while he could only think of how much further she'd fall when it proved fruitless. Even Coach Teffler, who'd never been married, warned him that keeping her spirits up was his #1 priority - why couldn't he just let her have it? Because men have a knack for asserting reality at the most inopportune moments:

"Now we've got to stay the course, here. I want to believe it's his sock, same as you, but we shouldn't go sending everyone over to Templeton just because of a sock. We've got to 'ma-xi-mize our re-sour-ces,' honey. And if---"

Suddenly he heard a series of noises come from his wife, the likes of which he'd never heard in all their twenty-three years together. Before he knew it the line was dead, and he was back in the Suburu driving home frantically. Officer Stutzman called him back a few minutes later to tell him his wife had been successfully transplanted to the couch, and was now moaning feebly from beneath a packet of frozen peas.

The next 336 hours were the most exhausting 336 hours of their entire marriage. They turned up the world around them, adding two small TVs to the bathroom and foyer respectively (for a grand total of five in the house), and a new radio in the garage, all tuned to different news stations. All blaring, all the time. They fought sleep and silence simultaneously, orbiting each other with the tightest lips, never colliding. Occasionally a circuit would be blown and the house would fall silent. When this happened, the man and the woman collapsed into crumpled piles wherever they'd stood. In the morning, The woman's mother would arrive with bags of tupperwared pasta salad and find them strewn about the house like the laundry they no longer bothered to wash. No sooner would she revive them then they'd flip the circuit and set the house, and themselves, to whirring again.

After the first week, the woman began to visit St. Matthews nightly. In the silences that found her there, she wondered if the man blamed her for the disappearance of their son. She wondered if she could survive to Christmas. And, most daringly, she wondered if her husband had already given up hope.

The man had no relief routine, no coping method. He tried to busy himself with the humbling task of stirring up publicity around the case. When his hands found themselves empty, they slipped into his coat lining and fingered the empty pewter flask hidden there. In those times, he only wondered one thing: at what point will knowing that her son is dead be better than not knowing?

The man and the woman never asked these questions of each other; they continued their ghastly game of musical chairs and waited for something or someone to break.

Year of the Giraffe

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Tue, 18 Sep 2012 00:02:00 +0000

This year I became acutely aware that my niece is approaching an age group that goes completely unserviced in regards to animal costuming. If Amazon Search is any indicator, children between the ages of 8 and 14 are expected to go virtually suit-less year-round, or worse, don something awkward and immodest - Sexy Cat, Sexy Bee, Sexy Lobster, etc. Because of this, I have chosen to furnish her with one of the more elaborate costumes for her Suit the Snoot program this year: The Giraffe.

It is my sincere hope that when it comes time for me to hand-knit these things to continue The Program through that 8-14 drought, I will have already purchased for her those animal suits which are too great a challenge for a novice seamster such as myself.

What have you done this year?

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 06:46:00 +0000

One year ago today my best friend died. For those that did not know him, here he is getting fancified by B. Schoeck 1 month before a sudden case of bloat took his life:

Lumas found me when I was just a dumb 18 year old kid. He walked me through the 15-year earthquake of my pre-adulthood life as a skinny artist and deposited me on stable ground with a house and a UX Designer's income/diet at 33. The responsibility of caring for him kept me on this earth many times when I didn't want to be here. He was more loyal, affectionate, and forgiving than any human I ever hope to meet, and he was all these things without the use of english.

When he died, I began planning an album about his life and his lessons that I hoped to release today, one year after his death. Today all I have to show for those plans is a few text files full of notes and fragments of four songs far from presentable. I'd convinced myself that I could complete the most complex and important record of my life while working a full time job; I was very wrong. It turns out that my creative engine does not turn over so easily in short 2-3 hour sessions. At least not any more. And it turns out that money and comfort lead mainly to TV and internet addiction rather than creative endeavors. Who knew?

So today, after much internal strife, I spoke with my very understanding boss and told him that I need to leave my job to finish this record. I'm walking away from a great salary, health insurance, and stock options in a company about to go public. I've saved up enough money to work on music 24/7 for six months. After that I don't know what happens. But I can't live with the guilt of not properly honoring my best friend this year as planned, and I intend to make it right by charging face first into the most ambitious and challenging project of my life. I'm sorry my creative output has declined this past year - the wait will be worth it.

Hannah Boo - 5th installment of the Kickstarter Campaign Collaboration Reward

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 25 May 2012 15:00:00 +0000

Here is the 5th collaboration from my Won Over Frequency Kickstarter campaign in which a Backer provides me with lyrics which I then turn into a hit song. The inspiration for this track was provided by Maya Peart, who gracefully recounted the life and final days of her beloved pure bred Bullmastiff, Hannah.

Regarding the music:

I don't know why I return to hymnal harmony when trying to communicate pain, but I do. That being said, I purposefully kept it from following any expected direction, so as to simulate the sea-legs of profound loss. To represent that hourly oscillation between numbness and hysterics, I used a man vs. machine theme throughout the production: authentic snare and ride cymbal paired with electronic kick drum; synth strings and rhodes with acoustic guitar and electric bass; unfettered lead vocal with robotic vocoded harmonies.

Regarding the lyrics:

It is a heavy thing, paying homage to someone this special. It is a heavier thing still to take on the voice of the grieving. If I weren't still knee-deep in my own grieving over Lumas, I'd venture to say that this sort of emotional co-opting is downright morally reprehensible. But lucky for me, Hannah's parents are dear friends of mine and myLumas, and were wonderful enough to trust me with something this sensitive. I really struggled to marry the subjective snapshots laid out in the verses with the objective rhetorical questions posed in the choruses. I know that the specifics of Hannah's death are not entirely clear to a listener who did not know her, and I grappled with whether or not to remedy that. In the end, I felt that vacillating between the details of injustice and a desperate lunge at gaining a larger context turns out to be a pretty accurate depiction of what coping with a loss of this magnitude looks like. So the song remains a dichotomy, optimized for her parents.

Hannah Boo

Well I suppose you were the silent type

but oh oh oh dear, you made a riot out of my tiny life

and nosed your way into every space

the anti-graceful, full of grace

you stoic bulldozer

why did you leave me with this mess?

And why do the biggest hearts break easiest?

Why do the smallest hearts survive?

Is it that love defies naturally selection

or that the big hearts keep the small hearts alive?

The way it went down was so hard to take

we'd been through hell and back but things felt ok

when the call came through we were both far away

Darling Hannah Boo, we never abandoned you!

I tried to be still but I'm not built that way

I couldn't take control or make the call - I had no say

Now I can't fill your space

I can dwell on the best, forget the rest but

why do the biggest hearts break easiest?

Why do the smallest hearts survive?

Is it that love defies naturally selection

or that the big hearts keep the small hearts thrive?

Maybe I'm wrong,

maybe I'm right

maybe my small heart tripled in size

just knowin' you,

just lovin' you,

myHannah Boo...

A Turning Point

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 16 May 2012 16:59:00 +0000

As some of you may know, a year and a half ago I stopped touring to work a full-time job in order to get out of steepening debt and to finally afford the gear that I need to reduce costs on future projects. Thanks to an artist endorsement with the kind folks at Auralex Acoustics, I've finally completed my tracking room, mixing room, and vocal booth. I also recorded a quick Before and After comparison of drums, rhodes, and out-of-tune piano. Note: these drums are not close-mic'ed; I set up two Shure KSM 137 condensor mics (set on "omni") in the middle of the room, about 5 feet away from all 3 instruments. I made sure they were in exactly the same place for the before and after recording.

Now I just have to learn how to play music.

Tracking Room - before

Tracking Room - after

Mixing Room and Vocal Booth

Chameleon Video - The most epic looping with Ableton

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 10 May 2012 19:32:00 +0000

Here is the most work intensive performance video I've ever done.

You can get the mp3 and lyrics here.
You can get the Ableton workfile that I used to perform this song here. Bare in mind that much of its programming is dependent upon the midi controllers that I used to perform it (Behringer FCB010 Footcontroller, Akai Professional MPK25, and a simple Midi out/in patchbay made with Max MSP by the saintly Brian Cass) to run the dummy clips. If you want to get savvy with this sort of thing, I advise you to explore the Ableton Forums and Brian's very useful macpro video tutorials.

It took me 3 months to arrange, rehearse, shoot, and edit.
It would mean the world to me if you'd share it with folks that would appreciate it.

I wrote the song in 2003 for a friend who wanted to do a boyband project. At the time I was fully aware that there existed a legendary funk odyssey called "Chameleon" by Herbie Hancock (all funk-obsessed musicians are required to fill 20% of their 3-hour set at the Block Island club with a rendition of the Headhunters jam). Over the years I played it live often and toyed with the arrangement a lot over time, but I never really officially released it. So let's pray that this ridiculous rendition, with its highly offensive lyrics and discomforting subliminal imagery, is the song's final resting place.

Close Your Eyes - 4th installment of the Kickstarter Campaign Collaboration Reward

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 16 Apr 2012 16:00:00 +0000

Here is the 4th collaboration from my Won Over Frequency Kickstarter campaign in which a Backer provides me with lyrics and I turn them into a hit song. The original lyrics for this track were provided by Bryce Carter with contributions by his friend Todd. "The song was inspired by ideal summer moments, simplicity, space, and Carl Sagan."

Regarding the music:
Since nostalgia seemed to be our most prominent theme, I opted to revisit the 50's aesthetic and arrangement-motifs of my hit song Coffeelocks. I'd worked out a few drafts in very different directions (most of them more downtempo and simpler instrumentation), but none clicked very well for me until I started down the doo-wop road. I used this recording as an opportunity to premier several new toys: my new M3 Hammond Organ / Leslie 45 (captured with a lovely pair of 421s ---- thanks Michael @ Sennheiser!!!), my theramin, my signature series Jay Turser electric bass ($65 value), and a beautiful pair of Cascade Fathead II-sp ribbon mics (thanks Rob @ Parson's Audio!!!). It's amazing how much less work one must do in the mixing phase when one simply utilizes the proper gear.

Regarding the lyrics:
Bryce sent me some lyrics back in mid December, and it took me several months to set aside the proper time needed to carve them into a workable structure. Once I got in there, it was quite a challenge to rework the cadences while maintaining the imagery. One of the more subtle but crucial alterations I made to the narrative was to make it past tense, which better suits the idyllic summer retrospective. I've interspersed my final lyrics (in italics) with Bryce's original lyrics so you can see the adaptation.

Close Your Eyes (Sweet Love)
Step into the lake on a warm summer night

We walked to the lake on that warm summer night

You laugh and tell me not to splash

You were laughing, you were begging me not to splash

The water is calm, we walk palm to palm

And the water was calm, I was pulling your arms

And hop in the rowboat to relive summer past

into the boat, as I'd done so many times in the past

(Close your eyes, sweet love...)

Close your eyes, close your eyes, sweet love

We paddle past the dock and the shore waves goodbye

Out past the dock, where the shore disappears

The stars light our way from the sky

and the sun's closing eye was just a dent in the sky

The sun's not awake, he's done for the day

I was worn like a gown but could not settle down

But you're wide awake, the night sky in your eyes

I's as lit as the stars in your eyes

(...they swim above us.)

omitted

Worry settles to the bottom while we float on the top

Our troubles had tumbled to the floor of the lake

We lay down to look up above

as we lay on our backs in the craft up above

The stars are painting scenes that only we see

if the stars carved a scene from the space in-between

On a canvas of sky with a paintbrush of love

then the night was a canvas, and the paintbrush was love

(She told everyone what she saw...)

Close your eyes, close your eyes, sweet love

set adrift as the stars swim above us

It's time to head back but we circle around

We made to head back but were all turned around

Sometimes the stars beg you to stay

like the stars, in there way, still had much more to say

But you must listen close if you're to hear what they spoke

So we listened real close as to hear what they spoke

The stars are in us, we are they

but the stars were in us, or perhaps we in they

(...a candle from space)

Close your eyes, close your eyes, sweet love...

Expensive Love - live in my pajamas

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 16:56:00 +0000

Here's a new video I shot while experimenting with my new TC-Helicon VoiceLive Play vocal harmonizer/effects processor:

Expensive Love
There's a drip in the tub that I just can't fix
and I can't find a rug to cover up the skidmarks from where your feet kept losing ground.
You were carving up a tomb from the home I found.
And I could afford the surgery,
and I could absorb the cost of drugs,
but I just needed some sort of guarantee that you'd see me through.

Dear Lu,
loving you is so expensive
loving you is so expensive, darling
loving you is so expensive, baby
I knew you had to go but didn't know it'd be so costly

You got a little bit sicker when you came on tour,
but still you stood right by my until your legs were sore,
and it was hard to leave you out in the van some nights.
Sometimes you gotta do wrong to make a longterm right.

But then you got much worse when I took the job;
I had to leave work late and get up at ungodly hours to get out of all the debts I owed.
Maybe you couldn't see the man for the brand new clothes,
but everything else was much improved:
We ate our weight in brand name foods.
I became the father you never knew

But it was too late

Dear Lu,
loving you is so expensive
loving you is so expensive, darling
loving you is so expensive, Lumey
I knew you had to go but didn't know it'd be so costly

loving you is so expensive, baby
loving you is so expensive, darling
loving you is so expensive, Lumey
I knew you had to go but didn't know how much it'd cost me

Over Breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 00:15:00 +0000

I suppose I had no business saying those things to Julie.

She was just doing her breakfast thing, same as any other day

reading the back of my paper aloud over eggs, tomatoes, and sausage

knowin' full well I wasn't halfway through Landers and dead set on gettin into Marmaduke before Daryl show'd up

But as ma says,

Eggs ain't eggs without somethin gettin broke

and that front page article on the Carter Parking Garage Killer had worn Julie paper thin.

She puffed out a tearful monologue

punctuated by toast shrapnel,

I just don't… I don't… I can't understand how a person can just… KILL nine people… for no REASON. It's, it's… it's SENSELESS. You just NEVER know wha---

Well, I understand how a person could do that, I shot back from behind my paper.

Wasn't more than four seconds of silence before I knew she'd never forgive it

I shoulda tipped the paper but I just couldn't look at that face she was surely makin

lookin like a rich walrus on tax day

Damnit, playin out these tired routines was enough to turn a man sterile

What I mean is… I can see---

Her chair bit into the floor as she clinked our dishes into a pile.

I can't believe you can just sit there… JUSTIFYIN… the killin of innocent folks, Wayne, she sputtered downward into the sink

like I was lookin up from the gunk.

I didn't say it was right, Julie Rae, I said I can understand it.

Well, I just don't know what to think about that. I suppose you think that's typical behavior, do you?

It was an awkward way to stick it to me, but I knew what she was gettin at

(when you've earned this much interest on a relationship,

ain't no conversation you're gonna have that isn't colored by something you said while under some sort of influence - be it love or whiskey)

that, right there, was her thinkin back on that time we was at Billy and Michelle's

and I was tellin them about how I'd found that sheep's skeleton up in the canyon when I was 12

kept it in a sack under my bed for months

'til ma'd found it and made me throw out the whole damned sack cause of the ticks

and I was really gettin into that story cause Billy was laughing and callin me Wayne Dahmer

and suddenly Julie was tearing towards the bathroom ballin her eyes out and wailin bout

THAT AIN'T NORMAL WAYNE. AIN'T NO KIND OF WAY FOR A KID TO BEHAVE

Michelle chased her in there, no doubt stokin the fire like a woman does when she's tryin to put one out

THAS TYPICAL BEHAVIOR FOR ANY BOY SCOUT, JULIE RAE, I hollered after her,

rollin my eyes at Billy

and Billy rollin em right back

Come the next mornin she was all kinds of sorry

made a big hash even though her head was poundin

but after that she watched me different

Like before I was a sheepdog

now I was a malamute.

What I'm sayin' is I can see how a man can end up in that place...

where something senseless... makes sense.

Ain't you never stared at somethin till it blurred?

Er said a word so many times you stopped believin it was a real word?

She didn't answer, but I knew she had

Ain't you never done that same thing with livin? Where you…

where you and the world stop speaking the same language for a little while?
Like everything you done up to this point don't bring you any closer to understanding the next point yer supposed to shoot fer?

Like you stop believin in all that buddhist shit

momentarily… momentarily, Julie

and you realize that maybe you ain't One with anything,

ain't attached or related to nothin:

not yer daddy, yer momma, yer fellow man

not the one you love

not the law

not even the ground.

You just a bunch of cells that got lost out there

and everything else is a bad dream.

Ain't you never been so lonely that you stopped believin the word "lonely" even exists…

cause ain't no one coulda understood it rightly before you?

She was frozen at the sink,

hands on my dirty plate,

water spillin over the basin

like I had my .38 to her head

Daryl blasted his stupid horn in the driveway in his stupid regular way

I walked over and turned off the water,

tried to kiss her forehead like usual

but now there was no usual

she'd be askin me to move on soon, I s'pose.

Got me wondering if maybe that's just a place the female mind can't ever go

Like maybe a man's heart has a drawer in it that women just don't have

and shouldn't never open.

SXSW 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 19:39:00 +0000

Nu Shooz cover "I Can't Wait"

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 22:39:00 +0000

Two weeks ago I was asked to cover "I Can't Wait" by Portland band Nu Shooz (now known as the "Nu Shooz Orchestra") for PDX Pop Now and the Oregon Historical Society's "Let It Rain!" compilation, which features Oregon-based artists from the present covering songs by Oregon-based bands of the past.

Here's my version:

Here's the original:

Here are some fun facts:

The life cycle of "I Can't Wait" by Nu Shooz is an interesting one; the version that brought the band international acclaim was not that featured on their March 1985 release, Tha's Right, but a none-too-altered remix by Dutch producer Peter Slaghuis. Portland radio station KKRZ immediately embraced and spun the original version and Portland listeners drove it up the local charts, but it failed to garner much love elsewhere until Slaghuis "Long Vocal Dutch Mix" was released on Injection Records at the end of 1985, and still didn't really land on American audiences until a full year after the original version was released, when the remix was included on their Atlantic release, Poolside, at which point it rose to #3 on the billboard charts.
In addition to the original "American" version and several existing remixes, Nu Shooz released two more versions of the song in 2006 on an "Unplugged" EP. For my cover, I took the ideas from each version that were the most appealing to me and put my stamp on them. To accentuate the theme of anticipation, I accelerated the tempo gradually over the span of the entire song. To suggest patience in the face of anticipation, the rhythms of each of the song's main elements are slowly assigned to increasingly longer subdivisions, giving them a decelerating effect, so that the end of the song is almost a shuffle.
This is the first recording of my newly purchased 1976 suitcase Rhodes
This is the first mix from my new home studio
This track features Sky Cooper on guitar
This track was mastered by Gus Elg at Sky Onion Studio
This is the first time I've successfully sampled Robocop

2012 Songwriter's Market: Co-Interview with Matt Fazzi

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 16:00:00 +0000

Dear friend Matt Fazzi and I were interviewed a while back for this book - you can purchase it here.

The winter of what's comin

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 21:33:00 +0000

Those years I was always fightin somethin

Come home bloody-nosed and chip-toothed

like a runt who can't stop runnin his mouth

Ellie wanted nothin to do with me most nights

Victorious or not, blood was blood, she said

ain't no difference whose it is

I still gotta get the carpets cleaned.

She watched me piss away most my paycheck

always hollerin bout

your body is made for more than transportin whiskey from Mick's to my toilet!

but I wasn't in no mood to pay her any mind

I had some chip on my shoulder, those days

Our divorce wasn't clean like smart folks do

we had all kinds of circling back, double checking,

fallin in, fallin out

it was a hard knot to untie

she let me bloody that first boy she brought around

she knew he had it comin since he works for Randy

and I caught him soakin up my shade when she thought I was headin to Galveston

Sure she made a nice little performance piece out of the whole thing

but women is women

and they love to be fought for

So she took me back in the house while he hobbled off

cleaned me up good and let me make love to her standing up, in the parlor

Things didn't do so good with that second boy;

he worked at the bank and maybe he wasn't much tryin to make her the way I first thought

but she had on her Sunday dress on a damned Tuesday

she fixes him a lemonade and serves him right out there on my bench

I come tearin through the yard like a fist river

laid that boy out flat before I seen the papers he'd set out on the picnic table

Well that was that

she boxed my ear with a rake handle

sent me off in the truck

head ringing like a chinese fire drill

and I spent the night at the lake in the truck bed

cursing God and all his falling stars

through a whole bottle a' Maker's

Prolly wouldn't'a heard from Ellie again 'cept Ant Bee took ill

Ellie rang me at Billy's and laid it out:

Wayne I want nothin to do with your sorry ass

but Ant Bee is dyin and I don't expect I could live with myself if I didn't give you a chance to see her

After all…

right there she got quiet and sniffly, breakin

the way women do on the phone

Ellie, you don't have ta ---- I tried

I will see you at the Wayberry's place at five tonight

and you will not be late. And Wayne...

try not to look like shit.

We both had a sweet spot for Bee

who'd taken us in when Ellie's folks'd run us off

and then given us our first truck

that old Chevy

with the football hanging from the rear view mirror

still there today, I reckon

I came round the Wayberry's at quarter to five

dressed in my office suit, with a bouquet of daisies

If she was impressed, Ellie didn't show it, or take them flowers neither

Bee will like those, she said

and I knew it wasn't no use romancin her under such circumstances

She pointed at my guitar case:

Good idea, Wayne

those words were like sun to a eskimo

and I held the door for her

We shuffled into the bedroom and Ant Bee was propped up on forty or fifty pillows,

all shapes, sizes, and colors, like some kind of arabian princess

We each hugged her and then took our places bedside

She would not let go of Ellie's hand

Well dear, I'm so glad to have visitors, she beamed at Ellie

Yes, it's so good to see you, Bee, we answered

Are you friends of Roger's?

Ellie flinched. No Bee, it's Ellie, your niece. And you remember Wayne

Oh yes, yes, it's so good to see you both, dears, she patted Ellie's hand.

She rolled her head to me: pleasure to meet you, Wayne.

And then she pulled Ellie close and made her hand as if to whisper

Is this handsome "Wayne" your boyfriend, dear?

No, Ant Bee, he's a friend that came to visit you! You remember how you loved hearing him

play guitar for you most nights at the old place?

Oh,

Bee turned to me

Wayne, I LOVE the guitar. Do you play well?

I do ok. Don't play much these days.

Oh, Wayne, you MUST play. I do love guitar!

I got the guitar out and strummed somethin senseless

she smiled and smiled

When I was just three words into a Guthrie tune,

she grabbed Ellie's arm and asked

Is this handsome fellow your boyfriend, dear?

No, Ant Bee. No, he's a friend who came to visit you.

Oh! You're so kind to visit me and play that guitar, dear.

It's nothin, Ant Bee, glad to give it a workout, s'been so long since I had it out.

Are you a friend of Roger's, then?

Ant Bee, that's Wayne. You remember, we used to stay with you when…

You gave me that '88 Chevy, remember, Bee? We used to live---

Oh dear. I gave you a car? I must be awfully fond of you, dear, She laughed.

Are you getting much use of it?

I'm afraid that was a while back, ma'am. I swapped it in a few years ago.

Oh my. Well, that sounds nice, then. I hope you got yourself a nice replacement.

Then,

Are you her boyfriend? She asked me,

poking the air between Ellie and her

Ellie cut in: Ant Bee! He's just a friend came here to visit you and see how you're doin. You know Wayne! We came to see if you got everything you need. Are you in much pain?

Oh no, dear. I'm fine. They have such wonderful folks here bringing me my things. My son should be by soon to take me home.

I put the guitar down, tried to put my arm on Ellie's leg, but she stood up and shooed me

Ant Bee, we buried Richard two years ago. You know that! I'm going to go to the kitchen for a drink, would you like something?

Oh no, we buried Richard? That isn't so, is it?

Ellie left the room and Bee put her hand on my arm,

Now who was that lovely girl? She reminds me of my Rebecca.

That's Ellie, Bee. She's your niece, remember?

My niece? That's Rebecca, is it? She's so big now!

Bee, Rebecca is your sister, and that girl there is Rebecca's daughter, Ellie, your niece.

Oh dear, you've got me so confused, young man,

she was barely laughing,

Can you tell me, is this Ellie your… have you been together long?

Well, we---

Ellie returned with a tall cup of water,

Nothin for me, thanks dear! I shot her a look

Ellie dear, I was just asking your… your...

Wayne, ma'am

I was just asking Wayne when he… now he, Wayne, the two of you will get married I hope. Have you been together long?

Ellie wouldn't let the woman have it, even so close to the end:

Ant Bee, Wayne is a friend of yours come to visit and play guitar for you. Now don't be makin assumptions bout the two of us, we ain't together anymore…

Hell, if she weren't so embarrassed by it all, she might'a found some pleasure in reminding me of where we stood, every forty seconds or so.

Well, he's quite a handsome one

she sang in a whisper

You ought give it a try with… what was your name, dear?

We left soon after

didn't see much point in stayin long when we just kept startin over every few minutes, and the Ant Bee we knew was long gone.

And maybe that trip to Bee's is what done pulled me out

cause after that I just didn't have the fight in me

not for Ellie, not for no one

ain't never stepped foot in Mick's since

I cut me a straight path with this Julie

On Thursday nights when she stays over

after I done her halfway to a crippled

I lay out across her spilling bosom,

and ask her questions about being a little girl

try to find the safest place in that head a' hers

and hunker down there

for the winter of what's comin

Maybe there are two kinds of pop music

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 20:12:00 +0000

Maybe in pop there are two kinds of music: Find Yourself Music and Lose Yourself Music.
Here is a good Find Yourself song.
Here is a good Lose Yourself song.

Maybe Lose Yourself Music is designed to aid escapism, and is often rhythm-centric because rhythm speaks more to the body than to the mind. Maybe Find Yourself Music is designed to aid reflection, and is often melody-centric because melody speaks more to the mind than the body.

Maybe when a genre is born it adopts one or the other by reacting to its parent genres, like a human does.
Maybe as a genre ages, it transitions from one to the other, like a human does.

To do both in one career is hard. To do both in one live performance is dangerous. To do both in one song is almost impossible. I've tried to do it a few times - sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't (don't freak out, I'm half kidding).

Maybe when there is an economic recession, we stress ourselves out with Find Yourself Music. Maybe when things clear up, we relax with Lose Yourself Music. Maybe we will abandon Find Yourself Music altogether as we reduce our interest in reality.

When performing in front of an audience that is not in love with you (yet), it is not wise to perform Lose Yourself Music for those who want to find themselves, or Find Yourself Music for those who want to get lost. When performing in front of an audience that is in love with you, it is possible to lead them from one to the other, but very risky. People like Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, and Peter Gabriel can do it.

Maybe if you're making neither or doing a poor job of combining the two, you would be wise to look for your revenue streams outside of touring and album sales.

FREE DOWNLOAD: New hit song - Diamonds

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 18:45:00 +0000

Download this hit song about the correlation between economic/emotional poverty and hit songs:

It features Lex Land, Brian Cass, Brandon Clemmens, and Chris Mosely!

The Latest Addition to Our Family

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 17:43:00 +0000

On October 28th my sister had her third child, a tiny bean sprout of a girl named Lorna Lia. She is indisputably healthy, undeniably alien-like, and unequivocally magical. I am excited to know her, spoil her, and, with time, torture her (in a healthy, uncly way). Here is a video of footage from the hospital with music by Reed Wallsmith and myself:

Since 1968 (Overclock Orchestra remix) lyrics

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 18:50:00 +0000

Purchase now

Since 1968

I'm a four-legged zombie on a two-step dance floor
I'd double down your money, honey, if you know what's good for... you.

Vampire won't go far
sucking the life out of the party
and Werewolf has no chance
cause Mr. Werewolf has no pants

Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the Monster Dance Partay

lurch left
neck spasm
dead stare
right at 'em
drag leg
nash teeth
on flesh
we feed

I can never lose
while I wear four shoes

I'm the undead quadruped - I could paint the town blood
ready, set, better step back or you could lose your
headstart you need it, clumsy mummy pokes you in the
I could cut a rug until it's bleeding through the ceiling

Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the monster Dance Party
Since 1968 I've been the number one champ at the Monster Dance Partay

Bombs overhead, put your face on, ladies,
they'll take you home tonight.
Bombs overhead, paint your face by number,
they'll never run away.
We got a wallet here, anyone lose a wallet?

Year of the Tiger

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 20:15:00 +0000

This year's Suit the Snoot program featured a tiger suit. My niece was delighted to model it at her 4-year old birthday party. She was so enthusiastic, in fact, that she did a fanciful jig on the picnic bench! Eventually the authorities had to put her down with blow darts.

West Coast tour in September

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 00:26:00 +0000

Back on the road for the first time in a full year! Not only are we going to play some never-before played hits, but I've got a new pair of shoes and two new shirts. Also, new guitarist, Justin Tolan, and new Lex Land album (featuring my sultry pipes). Also, old minivan.

Mutemath remix

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 18:43:00 +0000

Here is my entry into the remix contest for the single "Odd Soul" from MUTEMATH's upcoming full-length. It is made in Ableton Live using only the source tracks they provided:

MUTEMATH - Odd Soul (Odderpop Remix) by gavincastleton

Here is the original:

Wish me luck!

PS. You can listen to the competition here: http://soundcloud.com/groups/odd-soul-remixes

to my son.

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 06:19:00 +0000

Here are scraps of songs that don't want to come out: