The Great Consolidation

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 daises

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, ever 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:

120 petals I could not catch

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 10:41:00 +0000

I remember it like it was just three hours ago:
a hot Sunday---July 17th,
we were at the neighbors' for a cookout
and my son was being a nuisance, eating anything orphaned, however briefly,
and bumping into anyone with a dish full of anything
so I walked him home and left him to play in the backyard
I came back twenty minutes later to make sure he wasn't getting sunburned
and found him lying on the slate patio, blowing bubbles in his throat in short muddy breaths
like a genetically deficient pug,
trying to get something up that would never come.
I picked him up to gently Heimlich him
and his stomach was notably distended
like he'd swallowed a bowling ball
I tried to coax the ball up his throat but it was stubborn
He drooled thick white foam on my flip-flops and refused to drink anything
I called the Emergency Room and they told me to bring him down
so I put him in the back seat and raced across the Freemont Bridge
talking to him calmly about how funny it would be when they diagnosed it as a bad case of gas
and how they would still charge me an obscene amount of money
and how I was going to make him work it off all summer
but his eyes were shifty like a caught rabbit
and his breath was quieting,
so I didn't dare turn on the radio.

The waiting room was a tragedy menagerie: a cat with a broken tail, a Pomeranian with whooping cough, a Boston Terrier who hadn't pooped in days.
At the front desk I was very calm
I told the woman that my son was choking and she interrupted the Roseanne Arnold-look-alike accosting her about an overweight lab to call out over the PA, "Triage needed immediately!"

A young vet tech with a skater cut burst through the double doors and took my son
I tried to explain his entire medical history in a sentence or two
she nodded and nodded and they disappeared through the double doors

I was given a clipboard
with all sorts of releasing on there
I filled it out with a shaky hand
and blotted the ink with some stray tears
I signed and initialed everywhere
check, check, check, check - make him ok

They delivered me to a small room
where a surprisingly young doctor came in
---either she was still in college or I'd aged ten years in that waiting room---
she told me he was suffering from gastric dilation, which lead to torsion (wherein his stomach flipped and cut off some important blood flow)
and that they'd anesthetized him, put him on an IV,
and poked a hole in his stomach to let all the excess air out
He was stable now, but they needed x-rays.
Yes, yes, do whatever it takes - Can I see him?
"Unfortunately that's against policy"

She left and I thumbed my phone
I wanted to call my way out of that moment
share the wealth, as it were
but it seemed cowardly
so I focused myself on a spot between my shoes,
watching tears settle there,
and cut my breaths into halves:
inhaling was the Birth of All Things
exhaling was the Death of All Things
I dreamt a time-lapsed film of a flower's life cycle
and I tried to watch it
But still my fingers crawled into my pocket, hoping to spill my fear onto someone via text message
I pushed my cheek into the wall,
watching the flower in the black spots I made there
and tried to breath in time with its whole life

The girl came in again with the x-ray results
and I pitied her, always in the position of corralling the distraught customer towards an inevitable solution
I asked her to call my son's regular doctor
I wanted to hear someone make a case for the $8k surgery
She promised to try to find his number, and scooted out of the room

Once alone, I cracked faster that time
it was becoming harder and harder for me to compose myself
I could not find the flower, and I couldn't find enough tissue to keep my eyes clear
I could not control my breathing
I held my chest like my heart had come loose
"What is the lesson?" I asked myself.
"Sometimes you must make a decision without the time it takes to understand how you got there," I answered.

My son's doctor called me and tried to put a positive spin on things.
He said I could think about it as an "Easy way out," since we were already struggling with other medical issues.
I thanked him and hung up, called the girl to make plans for euthanasia

She quickly walked me to my son and told me, "Take as much time as you need"
He was really drifting, though, breathing laboriously, he wasn't looking anywhere
every minute he was alive, he was in pain
so after two minutes of rubbing his head and trying to remember every thing he ever did,
I told her to proceed

It was 9:35

She told me to talk to him while he went and I even joked
"His ears haven't worked for a long time."
"He knows you're here," cooed the sympathy girl, pushing a needle into his arm
I wanted to tell her that I didn't need a Death Coach
and I know what he knows
but I felt every second of those two minutes drip off of us
down a dark passage through the sterilized floor
120 petals I could not catch
I cursed myself for every moment that I looked away from him
because I didn't want him to see his dad broken

"He's gone," she told me

but he was still warm and I felt a pulse so I asked her, "Are you sure? His heart stopped?"
"Yes... I'm sorry for your loss."
It occurred to me that it was my heart pounding through my fingertips and onto his neck
and for a moment I believed I could bring him back that way

then I snapped to, rushing things - I knew that my coherence was subsiding
so I asked for the remaining paperwork.
They put me in a gentle room with tissue boxes everywhere,
soft lights and free bottled water.
Everything calligraphied, cross-stitched, and beige

When the money woman came,
I refused the Commemorative Handprint option
the sealed lock of hair (as there was still plenty strewn about my house),
and the $390 cremation.
"I will bury him myself"
She spoke to me like I was an egg-shell, nodding her head before I finished my sentences.
She gave me a pamphlet about coping with loss

I was very polite,
I thanked the doctor for being so frank with me about my lack of choices
I thanked her for giving me time to hold him
I thanked the money woman for charging my credit card $479.30
I apologized for using so many tissues
I apologized myself out of existence
I wanted to be the greatest ex-dad this Emergency Room had ever seen.

Two thick women wrapped my son in a white blanket and wheeled his body out to my car
"Sorry for your loss, sorry for your loss" they sang in a round, as I closed the back door and drove home.

When I went in our house, I picked up each of his things and put them in a closet
so I wouldn't see them when my feelings came back
I took the shovel out of the garage and cut a hole in the earth outside my studio window
I went inside and shined the desk lamp out there so I could work into the night
my dear friends walked over and helped me dig
each more reverent than I
I was exempt
We set him down there in the white blanket
and placed his favorite toys around him
Then I covered him with dirt and went inside to shower

I left the lamp on so that he would not be afraid in the night

Frank Ocean / Portishead cover/mashup/remix

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 16:34:00 +0000

This is a cover of Frank Ocean's "Swim Good" from his Nostalgia, Ultra album:

Here's the original:

I've reassembled it with pieces from my favorite Portishead song, "Roads." It also contains samples from Lee Oskar's "Our Road" and Ananda Shankar's "The Ocean."

There are a limited 100 downloads available at facebook.com/gavincastletonmusic

Interview with Soundsthatmatter.com

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 16:30:00 +0000

From a little while ago: http://soundsthatmatter.com/2011/06/16/gavin-castleton/

Child's Play - 3rd installment of the Kickstarter Campaign Collaboration Reward

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 17:13:00 +0000

Here is the 3rd collaboration from my Won Over Frequency Fundraiser Campaign:

Regarding the lyrics: I received a clump of lyrics from Brandon Murphy at the end of October, 2010. The song was to be the story of he and his best friend, Jason, highlighting their dedication to musical collaboration over the years. The first block of lyrics he sent me was very short; I struggled to find a narrative arc that would span several verses. At my request, Brandon and Jason provided me with a lengthy backstory to their relationship and growth in music together and apart. I spent a fair amount of time paraphrasing their lyrics and story into what would be the first two verses. By the time I had finished the second verse, the music sequencing and sample-based production (which I so rarely employ) was quickly become central to the process, getting me amped the way it used to when I played with my first sampler, the MS-1 (with $189 5.4mb Flash card), back in 1997.

One night when some old friends were at the house horsing around, I played the track for them and told them I was at a standstill with the narrative. We got to riffing and one thing led to another and Brian challenged me to include the tracklist from Def Leppard's Hysteria in the lyrics. Then he challenged me to include the phrase "Tibetan checkerset." One thing led to another and we had formed an entire verse of ballistic stream-of-consciousness... nonsense. The next day I set about to craft a serious verse, but the more I listened to the debauchery verse, the more it made me smile. After a few days of mulling, and adjusting the production to highlight my favorite parts, I have decided to leave it intact because I think I have inadvertently captured the essence of what Brandon and Jason wanted to celebrate, what making hip hop was for me and my friends back in our teens: the joy of lighthearted fun-focused collaboration - no matter how ridiculous or non sequitur.

Regarding the music: in celebration of Brandon and Jason's love of hip-hop, I decided to shoot for a Public Enemy-ish approach to the track, collage-ing the music from a few of hip-hop's most widely sampled tracks (like Bob James' 'Take Me to the Mardi Gras' and The Sugar Man Three's 'Funky So and So'). To make it challenging I tried to cut them up in ways that left them unrecognizable. As a nod to Brandon's most hated horror film (which played a pivotal role in the boys' first impressions of each other), sections of the theme to Child's Play were used prominently. I used a lot of "dirtying" production techniques to give it edge: over-saturation, copious amounts of side-chaining, and drastic automated EQs.

Child's Play
No one knows how it started

cause it started like a dream

with a seven dollar mic, panty hose

for a pop screen

holed up in the Wreckhouse crafting beats

can't hold back, trying not to clip the P's and T's

sick with the disease of first-time rhyme steez

rappin' bout the underage booze n' weed

it was all about the growth, not about the cheese

cutting every note like blood up on the keys

It was Child's Play

It was Jay on the mic, and Murph on the beats

On occasion did they trip up? CAUCASIAN PLEASE

but you're never gonna rise if you never take a knee

every stumble was a lesson for a new degree

stayed humble while they the dressing down the wack MCs

what's it take? What you got? check the inventory

they only need a kick and a snare, bass line or a chord

always about the story never 'bout the glory
it was Child's Play

"When you left for school I felt dead inside

'cause every inch that you gave me made me feel So Alive"

Love and Rocket

plugging sockets

Women

Rocket

Animal

Love Bites

Pour Some Sugar On Me

Armageddon It

Gods of War

Don't Shoot Shotgun

Run Quiet Riot

Bang Your Head

Cum on Feel the Noize

Don't Wanna Let You Go

Slick Black Cadillac

Love's a Bitch

Battle Axe

Let's Get Crazy, Thunderbird

Tibetan checkerset,

Depeche Mode sweater vest

better yet,

Love and Rockets (again)

plugging sockets (again)

Women, Rocket (again)

Pentax Tampon cronics

Nico Icon Cannon Dannon brogurt

put some fruit on the bottom

where's my mic steez at?

I still got em

bite these Nuttz™

War Pigs got me

Paranoid

Planet Caravan

Iron Man

Electric Funeral

Hand of Doom

Brain Salad Surgery

Toccata

S.T.I.L.L... You Turn Me On (to fruit)

Jack the Stripper

Fairies Wear Boots

and these boots were made for Christopher Walken

no more cowbell, more face/LandCamera/man-blocking

CHILD'S PLAY
[slap it]

The last time I saw you

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 09:34:00 +0000

You were calm and native as a lawn ornament

hunkered down on the bottom step of my back patio

with your painty pants rolled up

and your bare feet dipped in the unkept grass

as if grown there

I stepped out onto the slate in work socks
and washed myself in the evening air of July
and pulled my shoulders back into position
and watched you corkscrew that $6 wine bottle into the dirt
"to keep it chilled"
the way Dave taught you

The divorced girls next door had a fire going
and every few seconds it peaked over the fence at us
and cut the stillness between us with arhythmic popping
but there still wasn't enough space so

I waded along the limits of the backyard, admiring yesterday's clipping
and when I looked back you were gone
and I was holding your $6 wine bottle in one hand
and grabbing at sparks with the other

The Problems with Kickstarter

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 19:57:00 +0000

As many of you know, I successfully funded my Won Over Frequency record with Kickstarter.com last year. It was a very educational experience, and one I do not regret at all. As the site's popularity continues to rise, I thought it would be helpful to publish some of the downsides and potential pitfalls that an artist may experience using the Kickstarter system. These are issues I found with the site as of October 2010, so if they have been changed, please post a comment and correct me:

Kickstarter keeps 5% of your donations and Amazon (their payment gateway) charges a 3-5% transaction fee (rest assured, it's 5%). I cannot over-emphasize how important it is to fully comprehend that percentage, and the fact that their pricing not tiered. Consider this: if an artist raises $10k for a project, Kickstarter/Amazon takes $1000 just for providing a template profile page and pledge management account on their site, none of which allow custom branding or styling. If an artists were raising a budget for a small film, say $50k, then Kickstarter/Amazon would take $5k, despite the fact that the functionality they are providing in the $5k scenario is the same as the functionality they provide for a $100 scenario (albeit with more credit card transactions). This seems suspect to me, and that cost to a project budget must not be underestimated - an artist must increase their goal amount considerably to account for it.
Pledgers and artists are only allowed to use Amazon Payments for all transactions, which requires an Amazon account. No Paypal, no cash, no checks, no easy credit card form (unless you have an Amazon account).
Even though the funds can be instantaneously collected, artists cannot get paid until two weeks after their campaign ends. They then have to wait 5-7 days for the funds to transfer to their bank account. These delays are not explained anywhere on Kickstarter.com. The only explanation I can come up with is that Amazon is giving itself an extra two weeks to make interest off of the artists' collected monies.
Artists cannot change Rewards descriptions or quantities after publishing their campaign. I understand doing so is a bit dicey, as allowing artists to change a Reward's description after a pledger has signed up for it may be objectionable to the pledger, but I think that editing should be allowed, as it is the artist's reputation that would suffer should they choose to do something unethical. Running a campaign like this is always a learning experience (especially since the majority on the site are first-timers), and there is a strong likelihood that incentives will need a few adjustments as the artist learns what's working, what's not, and what is just unrealistic. It is important to be able to optimize a campaign as it is underway.
If a campaign is successful before the end date is reached, the payment process still won't start for 14 days after the end date. I understand that in doing so Kickstarter is honoring the agreement that pledgers donated under ("my card won't be charged until this date") but I think offering a "charge my card as soon as the campaign is successful" option during the pledge process would allow for both cases and better accommodate artists working with no funds (ahem, all of them).
I do not believe Kickstarter has cultivated a network of philanthropists that browse the site trying to give away money to cool projects. It is my impression that traffic is not one of Kickstarter's value adds. Artists should not expect to get a project funded if they haven't already amassed the fans and generous family members needed to do so.

All this being said, I was very impressed with the Kickstarter user interface and admin section, as well as their propensity for collecting donations - therein lies their true value. I'm not convinced that their interface should be credited with any campaign's success, though; I believe that a campaign's success is very much dependent upon the quality of its associated video and the cleverness of its incentives. If an artist has the technical ability or the kind of budget where that 10% deduction is large enough to pay for web development, building a microsite with similar functionality may be more cost-effective and allow for more branding and flexibility.

Weird Heads

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 02:14:00 +0000

I'm learning many things from this weekly figure drawing session:

Sometimes the bodies are so weird that it's better to just try to draw the face.
Sometimes the faces are weirder than the bodies, at which point adding something ridiculous like a Keffiyeh (the traditional Arab headpiece) can give that face the perfect context.
Goatees ruin every picture, guaranteed.

Notre Fils Tombé

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 17:18:00 +0000

Here is a live video of the third track from Travelight, my perpetually-postponed children's album, featuring my incredibly talented cousin Seth Castleton on cello.

NOTRE FILS TOMBÉ
We flew into the stratosphere
and landed on the moon at last
It wasn't like the photographs,
it wasn't quite a wild frontier

We lay inside a crater bed
with rockets blasting overhead
the planets sang a lullaby
as all the stars began to cry,

"Oooooooooooooooooooh,
Our star is home at last, notre fils tombé!
Our sorrows have now passed, notre fils tombé!"
But my star had seen how blue a blue can be...
he said, "I really need my space, ma petite famille!"

They said, "Wait for the sun to set,
don't try to be so brave!
You've got to stop and rest
under celestial shade!

You're made of rock and ice
you'll simply melt away...
this moon is paradise
forget the light and stay
forget the light and stay
forget the light and stay
forget the light and stay...

Kevin's Moment - 2nd installment of the Kickstarter Campaign Collaboration Reward

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 01:05:00 +0000

When Kevin George sent me this paragraph for his lyrical contribution to our collaboration, I admit I was stumped:

'I'll see you later,' she says.
'hopefully,' he says, awkwardly laughing.
'you will,' she quickly and seriously replies as if she knew it was coming.
'you better,' he says.

she never once looks back at him, keeping her back to him the whole time.
she seems to be holding her emotions back the entire time. Or so he tells
himself.
she looks through her phone then drives away.
he watches until she is gone from view. gone for good.

In his email Kevin wrote, "It is really just a basic description of a moment. Feel free to use them as just a general outline if you want." There really wasn't much to go on as far as a narrative or rhythm was concerned, so I decided to focus the piece on the impact of the interaction, rather than its context or content.

I took the dialogue of the female and assigned it to a thin woodwinds section of two flutes and one oboe. I took the dialogue of the male and assigned it to a heavy-handed brass sections of six french horns and four English horns. I wrote call-and-response melodies for the two sections, matching the notes to the number of syllables and following the perceived pitch inflections of the characters. I set the tempo so that the whole exchange would last 22 seconds because that's about how long I think this kind of interaction would take. Then I wrote an accompaniment for four double basses, eight cellos, four violas, and eight violins that ends on a very unresolved and abbreviated diminished chord.

Since there is no way I can afford to bring musicians into a studio for these pieces, I synthesized and mixed the short piece in my bedroom. The final, crucial step was to stretch the resulting mix out to 13.6363636363... times its original length (the infinite decimal meant to suggest endlessness without making the user actually listen to this song forever). This stretching of the piece is meant to simulate the perpetual reflecting of the narrator, the picking of a scab, elongating all of the once-tiny dissonant nuances of the weaving lead voices.

Kevin's Moment by gavincastleton

Room for improvement

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Sun, 20 Feb 2011 04:46:00 +0000

There's something to be said for the gratification I get from self-improvement. The longer I do music, the more subtle my evolution as an artist becomes: I sing a little better with each album, my composition becomes a little less childish, my production techniques grow more tasteful, but progress is mostly in small increments. It's not the same as when I first started playing in a band in 1995 - long nights at the bandspace grinding out a challenging passage for forty minutes and suddenly my fingers finding their zone, and that eureka when we get through the section without stumbling. Those breakthroughs are rare now - I'm more likely to experience them while playing the drums or the bass, or looping something.

But I'm getting really pumped on this nude drawing class because I get that feeling two or three times a session. I'm still struggling with proportions and weird angled limbs, but I'm making big strides in muscle tone and utilizing the full spectrum of a black-to-white gradient. And I'm finding the patience to finish the pieces a bit more than before. One of these days I'll have something worth putting my name on.

TooForSix - new hit song from the mind of a Canadian

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Thu, 17 Feb 2011 04:51:00 +0000

This is the first of six collaborations that I'm sworn to complete from my Won Over Frequency fundraiser last fall. It's a song called TooForSix, and the lyrics were (mostly) provided by Ryan Dutkus of Canada, one of the biggest supporters of my work dating way back.

TooForSix by gavincastleton

It's been a very challenging and eye-opening process! Ryan sent me some lyrics, and then (at my request) a line-by-line explanation for them. I cut them up a bit, paraphrased, and rhythmetized them into a format I thought would tell the story clearly enough.

I would classify this as a "coming-of-age" song, so I adopted an ever-expanding instrumentation: first just acoustic guitar and voice, then adding drums and synth and additional vocals, and eventually a pile of percussion, glockenspiel, electric bass (my first new instrument purchase of 2011!), and rhodes. In the last two verses I liberated the time signature to compliment the introspection and developing spirituality unfolding in the lyrics.

I did this all in my bedroom and it took about 19 hours, not counting 4 mix revisions.
Here are the lyrics we ended up with:

TooForSix
There was never any room on the strip for me to ride
always a bus in the front, a truck in the back, and a Becks on every side,
A simple stretch of lane was all I needed
To take control of the game and make my way on a 10-speed.

Those were the best times that I ever had: two wheels good, four wheels bad

There was never any shortage of excitement
There was never a need for something more
I had more friends than I knew what to do with
but with no love to show I won the battle, but lost the war.

That was a choice that I had to make: to love something so strong, it breaks.

Six long years and what's the result?
I'm burned out, churned out from the growth
and I learned more than I thought I'd ever know,
but I'm a hardened man cut from the same stone as Foucault.

This is the first step that I take: a head first dive into the wake.

This stage of moving on and growing up and looking out
took so long to come my parents numb and start to doubt
but I'm solid now, got me a job, and I'm learning lots,
and I'm through with trying to be something that I'm not.
This is the next step that I have to take, and I don't regret one mistake.

Micropoem: Some people live between weekends

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 09:34:00 +0000

first a bedtime, then a calendar - the quicksand of financial stability

Live Nude Girls

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 18:13:00 +0000

There is very little time in this new corporate life of mine to do anything artistic, but recently I've given myself the gift of a Wednesday night nude drawing session at the arts college downtown. It's taken me a few sessions to get my wheels turning again, and I've got a long way to go before I could make something worth hanging, but it's been a really wonderful experience opening up a channel for something I used to spend a lot more time doing before music took over. Here are some roughs from the last few classes, most of them 20 minute poses:

In General - Chapter Who

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 08:38:00 +0000

As is true of everyone born in the eighties, her numerator would never equal the denominator American pop culture had designated for her. She spent most of her twenties grappling with this - the acceptance of her own ~~mediocrity~~ ~~irrelevance~~ insignificance in the face of all that fame, romance, technological revolution, and war she was raised in - a tumultuous endeavor to say the least. Never before had a generation been afforded the time and wealth to scrutinize the discrepancy between what it was told it could achieve and what it had actually achieved. So maybe for her he was a "win," a shaved man in a storm of beards and mustaches. When the great American memoir refused to be written, the award-winning independent film stalled out in the editing phase, the year in Nepal was forgone for a weekend at Mt. Hood, and even the herbal garden fell to aphids, there was still a good man to show for her efforts.

As is true of all men, there were things she could know about him, and there were things that she would never know about him. The things she could know were these:

He used bigger words when in the presence of his father.
He had letters from his first love in a tattered blue envelope tucked away in his old box of comics (between Cerebus and City of Others).
When he lied each sentence was preceded by a single blink, like a spanish exclamation point.
When he drank he forgot to put the toilet seat down.
He believed wholeheartedly in the segregation of certain food groups; should a potato cast an eye on an egg or chicken leg, the entire plate must be discarded.
He had a one inch scar on the inside of his right thigh where a Christmas tree once tried to revoke his right to procreate.
At the end of a long-overdue orgasm he cried out the sound of two Pterodactyls fighting.

The things she would never know were these:

There are two loud notches in the belt of shame he wears (the belt worn by all men, in fact), two acts of cowardice he committed in his teens that he can not shake. Both involved running and both are irreversible: he ran from his grandfather's 80th bedside birthday and he outran his younger brother in what was to be their last MS Society Marathon.
The night of his 25th birthday he'd staggered alone through the streets of Northeast Portland smashing phone booths with a tack hammer he'd tucked into his jacket.
Some nights he pretends to nod off when she talks about her mother.
She has the third best breasts, fourth best thighs, 2nd best face, worst laugh and best hair of every girl he's ever been with (if the true nature of his sexual indexing was ever revealed to her, she would certainly reconsider homosexuality).
At the end of a long-overdue orgasm he sees the cool, calm pink of her cover and douse the small fires of old lovers in his short-circuited brain like a Pepto-bismol commercial. As he watches this he mourns each in turn---a tear for each breast once tongue-traced, a sigh for each neck he's sniffed---his breath hitching to accommodate the dictatorship of her love rushing into his lungs.

As is true of all women, there are things she would tell him, and there are things he is expected to know. The things she would tell him are these:

Few things in this world could sedate her the way that hot cocoa with steamed chocolate milk did.
She kissed two girls in her second year of college; both tasted like old peaches and both lacked the willfulness she'd come to expect from lips.
Her father's cancerous death was disappointingly anticlimactic: where she'd expected to find resolve, meditation, and profundity she'd only found trivial banter, then disorientation, and finally the endless drip of his despairing bowels.
The colors that came out of her during her first miscarriage were unlike any she'd ever seen in four years of Fine Arts classes.

The things he was expected to know were these:

A woman will give up all the adoring things he's ever said about her "creative" haircuts in exchange for one truly thoughtful birthday gift.
In the matter of families and lunacy, one must respect the delicate double-standard wherein terms like "crazy," "manipulative," "free-loading" and "asshole," could only be ascribed to one's immediate family, and not that of one's partner, no matter how many times her brother had borrowed one's sedan.
A man must never attract attention to the present; a women loves the boy she first met, the boy who made a joke about bringing his own toilet paper while they both waited for the bathroom at the Bonfire... and when she realizes that boy is gone and a man sleeps in his stead---a farting, snoring, dream-killing man---she will hate the bait-and-switch of it all, hate herself for being a mark.
A woman can only forgive something that she is sure will never happen again.

And so, in the fall of 2009 their relationship sailed through the two-year mark, made tenuous at first by the hiccups of his drinking and her lack of income, but fortifying with each new secret shared and each new pet name declared, until one Monday morning in February when the first trout arrived on their doorstep.

Gavin Castleton Album Titles & Artwork Explained

noreply@blogger.com (Gavin Castleton) — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 22:14:00 +0000

On more than one occasion I have found myself arguing with dear friends about the naming of albums. I have a pet peeve: I hate the idea of a "title track," the naming of an album after a song. Not only do I see it as creative laziness, but also an insult to the other songs that share the record.

With the advent of the digital age, the reasons for publishing a group of songs in one block began to disappear. No longer is the medium designating the length of a release. No longer is the marketing cycle for a release as lengthy or as expensive as it once was---in fact, most labels are starting to embrace releases with shorter shelf-lives and cheaper social marketing efforts, adopting the use of EPs, singles, and remixes as legitimate forms of listener-engagement and revenue. So it stands to reason that nowadays when an artist gathers a group of songs and publishes them, she is doing so because those songs belong together, and not just to consolidate production and marketing costs. Subsequently, if the songs belong together then surely they form a bigger picture: maybe they collectively depict a time in the artist's life, maybe they illustrate a period in the author's creative development, maybe they're just all about the majesty of burritos. When that collection of songs is named after just one of the burrito songs, it suggests that the one song can sum up album's message... so why include any other songs on the release? Are they not integral to the message? Put differently, It think of my songs as children (as many artists do), and my album as a family, why would I name my kid "Castleton Castleton"? Sure it'd probably garner him twice the success with the ladies, but how would my other kids feel about that? And why would I waste your time with more of my clumsy kin when CC already said it all?

I have a similar distaste for the self-titled album. My thought is this: if you as an artist have finally recorded something that sums up everything you've learned about yourself and your craft so definitively that you want it to share your name, then I hope to high heaven you don't intend to release another record, because you've reached the end of the journey. And the rest will be recycling. And there simply isn't room in our ears anymore.

Of course none of these circumstances are usually the motivation for the naming of an album - I suspect they just don't think that hard about it, and so they resort to the old industry standards: title tracks and self-titled albums. Well, I'm not a fan of the lazy approach to anything in regards to music - here are some explanations for some of the albums I've released:

HYPOTENUSE (2004) & DARK AGE (2004)

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Album Title: Near the end of my 25th year, I wrote and recorded what would become my first two solo records: Hypotenuse and Dark Age. Originally I intended to make one long album, but soon realized that this collection of songs was better divided into two piles: the angry and bitter rants with the hip hop edge belonged to Dark Age, and the somber, wistful electronica songs comprised Hypotenuse. As is true for many people, 25 was a pivotal year; my familial and business relationships were in a massive state of flux. I was becoming acutely aware that my life had gone completely off-script, and the internet was spray-painting the music industry every shade of revolution, opportunity, and economic confusion. As a human I was eager to reinvent myself and shake off the perceived "yoke" of my parents. These albums signified my transition from a very private, fairly passive aggressive person to a somewhat exhibitionist aggressive-aggressive person. They also ushered in a new era of self-sufficience for me; having fully embraced the gamut of music production software, I would no longer be reliant upon others to create music. Oftentimes clumsily produced and lyrically self-absorbed, the songs on these albums are truly pubescent (though I often think my music career has been---and will continue to be---one long puberty). But they play an important role in the timeline of my releases, cataloging a very dark year for me and paving the way for my creative renaissance. They spoke directly to specific people in my life in terse naked language - no right angles, no circumvention - just the most direct line between two points: an emotional hypotenuse.

Album Artwork: The cover of Hypotenuse is a self-portrait in pen superimposed on an acrylic painting. It's a drawing of me huddled in a blanket on a bed, composed entirely of triangles.

The cover of Dark Age features a vectorized photo of me staring directly at you. It was taken with somebody's point-and-shoot at CMJ (note my facial enthusiasm at this prestigious industry event). I chose it because it was the type of image we would never use in Gruvis Malt artwork, and it was unflatteringly "honest." The text and layout are a nod to that of Propellerhead, the software company that makes Reason (a program I'd used heavily on both records).

FORTNIGHTSHIFT (2005)

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Album Title: This record was intended to jump-start a band. Blak and I were unified in our frustrations with our unmotivated groups (One Drop and Gruvis Malt respectively), and we set out to make an EP that we could sell on our encroaching east coast tour.

I flew down to Orlando and wrote four of the five songs with Blak in a weekend. We then brought the rest of One Drop in to a friend's studio to track them. From the first day of that marathon writing session to the tracking, mixing, and final mastering date, the project took two weeks, or one "fortnight." We referred to most of those sessions as "the night shift" since they often began around 2:00pm and ended around 4:00am. Hence, "Fortnightshift."

Album Artwork: The front and back covers are photos of a field taken near the studio in Chuluotta, FL where the EP was tracked.

GRACE LAND (2006)

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Album Title: Gary Tivole, the unlikely protagonist of Grace Land, is a huge fan of Paul Simon, "There is a game I like to play where it's me in New York / In front of a small audience of mostly young ladies / playing these songs / answering questions afterwards / like how I came up with 50 Ways / or where Art Gurfunkle and myself went wrong." I liked the idea that he would name his album "Grace Land," an obvious bite, but would insist that it isn't derivative at all because his title is two separate words while Simon's is "Graceland." I also liked the irony of it as a title; suggesting that the ugly, awkward, and often irrelevant rantings of Gary Tivole are in any way associated with "grace" is hilarious to me.

Album Artwork: The album art for Grace Land is a series of self-portraits that Gary did in marker on a wall in his apartment. We were lucky enough to peel blocks of the wallpaper off without damaging the drawings or alerting him.

HOSPITAL HYMNS (2007)

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Album Title: Hospital Hymns was inspired by a six month stint I worked as a temp in a Rhode Island hospital stockroom. My job was to restock the various units. It was remarkable to me how spiritually sterile the environment seemed, despite it being home to some of the most emotionally turbulent events in its inhabitants' lives. I was also interested in the contrast between the non-unionized stockroom workers and the more "presentable" doctors, nurses, and lab techs we kept well stocked. While writing more music for solo performance, I was surprised at how much the Mormon hymns of my youth had influenced my harmonic instincts. I decided to write a narrative across five "modern hymns," each employing some phrasing or melodic tendency from a hymn I'd grown up with. The fictional 76-year old narrator seemed a fitting gauge for the listeners' spirituality: Do you see him as a religious fanatic, completely out of touch with reality and even dangerous, or as a humble follower who can find beauty and God in the places that those who eschew him cannot: the darkest corners of a bustling white-washed building?

The Artwork: The cover of Hospital Hymns is a water color painting I did of the narrator haloed by flowers. The back cover of the promo copies had a floor plan for the hospital I worked in.

FOR THE LOVE OF PETE (2007)

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Album Title: For the Love of Pete is a collection of songs I wrote for my ex-girlfriend spanning the six years we were together. We developed our own language, as lovers do. We had a game where we referred to each other as "Pete," but preceded by another "P" word. Like, "Oh, don’t be such a Presumptuous Pete" or "You’ve been a real Prickly Pete lately." My grandfather is fond of saying, "For the love of Pete!" when we exasperate him. Since the album is a collection of love songs I wrote for my Past Pete, the phrase seemed fitting.

Album Artwork: For the Love of Pete features photos of Jenny and I in the backyard and neighboring farm of our Lincoln, RI residence. You wouldn't know it by our expressions, but we'd been broken up for several months at the time of that shoot. She not only took most of the photos, but also did much of the layout and typography.

A BULLET, A LEVER, A KEY (2007)

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Album Title: This narrative record, the fictional recounting of my life in reverse chronological order (from a miserable suicide in 2054 to a 2007 live performance), is about little choices with big consequences, spurned by questionable incentives. The title comes from the book Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J Dubner, which states, "An incentive is a bullet, a lever, a key: an often tiny object with astonishing power to change a situation... There are three basic flavors of incentive: economic, social and moral."

Album Artwork: The cover of A Bullet, A Lever, A Key was inspired by a Saivite funeral. The photo was taken by Jaime Lowe, and Alex Barton helped arrange flowers around my face after covering it with honest-to-goodness pyre ash.

HOME (2009)

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Album Title: I wrote this album in the midst of the biggest storm of my life: my six year relationship was in pieces, my bands were becoming inactive, I was financially unstable, and had fallen out of love with the town I'd lived in for 14 years. I didn't name the album until I was nearly finished recording it, and when I finally did there didn't seem to be any other contenders that made nearly as much sense as "Home." All of the paths I was embarking on were leading me away from comfort, away from the "homes" I'd built for myself throughout the first third of my life. I came to realize through the making of this album that the artistic process itself was my resting place, and that when nothing else was steadfast, my ability to cope through creation remained constant. When I need it, art itself is my home. The final words of the album are, "Home is not the place you dwell, home is where you see yourself." Much like the final events of the Hospital Hymns narrative, this lyric is designed to dissect the listeners based on how they interpret that last line. What kind of artist are you? Do you build your home out of reality, "seeing" yourself for who you actually are and painting unapologetic self-portraits in your chosen medium? Or are you an idealist, rejoicing in limitless potential and seeking solace in the imaginary place you can craft for yourself?

The Artwork: The cover of Home is the result of a lot of work by two experts: photographer/digital lighting pro Ryan Rogers and graphic designer Justin Muir. Through the magic of computers Justin was able to take a beautifully stark portrait from a shoot I did with Ryan and graft molding zombie veins, socket irritation, and two scenes reflected in my eyeballs: an arial view of a ladybug, and a horizontal view of encroaching zombie hoards.

The cover, often mistaken for that of a nu-metal band, is meant to exhibit the theme of duality that runs throughout the record - red vs. blue (internal vs. external), ladybugs vs. zombies (proactive vs. destructive), fact vs. fiction (reality vs. ideality), etc. The expression on my face suggests that there is no clear solution.

RANDOM ANTHEMS (2009)

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Album Title: This EP was the first and last release borne of political needs rather than artistic. The label felt it would help us promote my next tour to have a new recording to blab about in a press release. Hope is a Drug, Scared Scared Scared, and Shell 2: Nephew of Shell were three very different tracks that I was very happy with but had no particular plan for. The only thing that unites them in my mind (aside from my sensual voice) is that each is anthemic of embracing humility: Hope is a Drug promotes fulfillment through immediate art-making over the success that may or may not result from it, Scared Scared Scared is my acknowledgement and acceptance of the universal fear of being alone, and Shell 2 is an unflinching assessment of my health and aging.

Album Artwork: In keeping with the "random" theme, the cover to this EP is a photo of Lumas at an outdoor basketball court down the street from my apartment. It was taken by Jaime Lowe and I used it because I liked it.

COVERS (2010)

Album Title and Artwork: No discography is complete without at least one really stupid pun title/art combo. Covers is a collection of cover songs, with a picture of me under blankets on the album art. Ho ho ho.

WON OVER FREQUENCY (2010)

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Album Title: This album was tentatively called "Orphans" for its first trimester. After releasing Home, I wanted to make an album without a narrative arc or unified pallet; I wanted to make the opposite of Home. I changed the title to "Won Over Frequency" when I read this article in the NY Times and it occurred to me that perhaps there was a unifying thread here. My music is getting easier to sell to people (though let's be sure to divorce the term "sell" from anything to do with revenue). I no longer struggle through the writing process as I once did; songs cooperate with me during the birthing process. And a rhythmic logic to the chaos of my stylistic interests has emerged. The songs on this album speak to and resonate with a wider audience than anything I've done to date - they are the closest I've come to my "pink noise" (represented in music synthesis as the wave pattern "1/f," or one divided by frequency). I chose the double entendre "Won Over Frequency" because I've arrived at this style of songwriting, and conquered this little patch of grass in this war zone-of-an-industry only through persistence and consistency.

Album Artwork: This may have been the most labor-intensive artwork of any I've done --- not for me really, but for the incredibly talented people that worked on it. The cover depicts my fat face sloshed with pink paint on a black background. I'm staring you in the face (as is also the case with Dark Age and Home), disarmingly and somewhat disarmed. The cover is meant to represent the collision of the two engines of my creative process: emotion and logic. The stark, Pepto-bismo pink is both a nod to the concept of "pink noise" and representative of the dramatic emotional romantic in me that would have the audacity to pose the question "Are you brave enough for my love?" and the judicious black foundation (with Brendan Bell's Matrix-green geometric imprints) is the pragmatic scientist in me that would have the audacity to marry hymnal chords with odd time signatures. The pink strip hurtling towards my face from the left-hand side doesn't completely override the background --- they co-exist, compliment each other even, and then meet in and share my headspace in a nearly 50/50 ratio.