wAter

/// The Source ///

riVer SoNg

The American Southwest is a magical place.

Seemingly lifeless desert landscapes hide an abundance of well adapted organisms under open sky and inside the rocky features.

Water, the source, has cut through the rocks over the millennia, proving once again it cannot be stopped.

Life there exists by one rule: THE DESERT WASTES NOTHING

Shortly after the pandemic lockdowns (when it felt save to travel again), Jenny and I went on a road trip from the densely populated east coast cities to the wide-open vistas of New Mexica, Arizona, and Nevada.

Our goal: kayak on the Colorado River!

The expedition, led by a local guide, was 16 miles long. 8 miles upstream to a hot spring, then 8 miles downstream.

About 7 miles into the trip, the sky suddenly became overcast, then a few moments later it began to downpour.

The rain was cold, and would have been uncomfortable if we didn’t know that the hot springs were just a little further.

There was something else about the rain too. It was needed. During our drive we say enumerable signs that said ‘Pray for Rain’. The west was in a mega-drought, this rain was salvation, and we all knew it.

When we reached the landing spot for the hot springs the rain had stopped, but something was different.

As water gushed down the valley walls into the river, its dry and rocky soil unable hold the excess water, I noticed a large bush nearby.

Its thin needle-like leaves were a glowing and delicate light green, a color I hadn’t seen before in this grey and dusty valley.

I looked around and all the vegetation was radiating this new hue. They had come alive with the rain. They were drinking up as much as they could so that they could survive another day.

THE DESERT WASTES NOTHING

The glowing bushes illuminated the valley for only a moment. In about the time it took to notice, it was gone. Our guide said it was a rare sight and I will always remember it.

‘River Song’ was started before the trip out west but was finished not long after we returned.

It was one of the first songs I tried to write during the pandemic lockdowns using remote recording techniques.

I had asked a few friends to record themselves and send me the results. I gave no written music or guidelines.

Through a process of trial and error I was able to put together some of Mike Lorenz’s guitar and Elliot Bild’s trumpet into a loose framework.

However, it wasn’t finished just yet.

Something was missing and it turned out to be Jenny’s voice.

Soon after we returned, I recorded Jenny’s vocal part, made a few last-minute adjustments and it was done.

Ode To JAimie BrANch

Jaimie Branch was a young and gifted avant-garde trumpeter who tragically passed away in 2022 at the age of 39. She was a truly original compositional voice, mixing various styles that always seemed (to me) to be on the cusp of free jazz and punk rock.

I can’t say I really ‘wrote’ this song it was more of a collective improvisation that spontaneously happened during the recording session.

To be honest, at first I thought it was a ‘throwaway’, and perhaps you might still think it is…

It’s abrasive. Loud. Unpleasant. Unsettling. Etc...

I know all of this. I’ve thought so too.

However, there is an undeniable energy to it. A powerful force that can either be destructive or creative depending on the wielder.

Much like the flame, it can lay waste to a landscape, and make room for new life at the same time.

This is my tribute to Jaimie. A comrade in arms.

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