Greetings, all!

As September drifts to its breeze-laden conclusion, Grimfeather has armed its wings with guitar picks once again and crafted a brand new song for your shrunken bellies. We know your mouths are dry, your stomachs empty and aching for our musical syrup…and why? Because we have neglected you since June. It’s true, we are sometimes forgetful, but perhaps this will help make amends for our absence. To listen, please force your mice to dance upon the play button below. We promise, your mechanical rodents will thank you.

“Invisible Posture” by Grimfeather.

Our entire social system is constructed around the false notion that a high-paying job with benefits leads to a secure and beneficial life. In a country where most of the population survives on paychecks and commoditized goods, it is no longer necessary to live off the land or to have personal connections with suppliers of the goods that we purchase. Our jobs are integrated into a system built upon paper money (or imaginary funds) and false security, and thus most of our relationships are economic in nature. We come into contact with people at work and at stores. These relationships need only operate on the level of costs-benefits and the exchange of work for pay or pay for products. Aside from these relationships, we may have other encounters, but these quite often revolve around entertainment and the media. We make connections by discussing popular films, music, news, sports, or other information created and filtered by major corporations, which stand at the top of the economic food chain amused as they watch us chase our tails.

“Just getting by” is no longer acceptable. Comforts and entertainment must now constantly be at our fingertips, and these temporal pleasures must be continuously updated and marketed in new, eye-catching packages. All of these “things” that we purchase now progressively define us. Everything we own becomes an indicator, in part, of our personality, which we have invested into our wardrobes, our DVD & CD collections, our furniture, our modes of transportation, as well as our circle of friends. In this kind of environment, it becomes increasingly difficult to engage in authentic discussions about what really matters in life. Everything, including our values, has already been preprogrammed into us by a society focused on fashion, entertainment, comfort, and the idea that we need to possess a constant flow of cash to keep all these items up-to-date and accessible.

Being original now means merely finding your own “unique” place within this preconceived social structure. Don’t get me wrong; there are nearly endless possibilities when it comes to choosing your personality framework. It’s just that, like most pop songs, nearly all of these personality frameworks follow the same conventional pattern as their contemporaries. Each one values material goods. The range and type of these goods differ based on what niche you find best suits you––the individual interpreter of success.

It is this illusion of freedom that so significantly deludes our perceptions on reality. Values become vague abstractions that we can hit with a slingshot from 10 miles away with our eyes closed. You say you care about the environment? Buy green. You say you’re concerned about the poor people in Africa? Write them a check. Money is seen as the answer to any conceivable problem. Therefore if everyone had a decent job and enough money to live on, then the world would be a place of total peace and harmony, right? That’s what people fight wars over, isn’t it? The resources that fuel economies?

There is no longer any romantic rescuing of damsels in distress. In this age, we are all damsels in distress. We all have mouths to feed, pockets to fill, toys to buy, minds to entertain, and pleasures to indulge. And, as marketers have discovered, our appetites are insatiable. So, there will never be an end to this cycle. We live educated by a system which has, by-and-large, funneled us into accepting a cycle of spending and saving up for “the good life” that retirement claims to offer us. Our heaven on earth. And all the while, we live…or it at least appears that we are living. And, as these ever-shortening lives unwind, we expect that somewhere along the way, we will be satisfied. Really? Is this what our lives will amount to? When did money replace relationships as the source of value in human life?

These days, people marry left and right and divorce at nearly the same rate. There is no longer a fabric of compassion and love that unites people in a common struggle to live meaningful lives. At best, we find camaraderie in the quest for common interests limited to video games, amusement parks, sports teams, fashion accessories, and the rapidly dying dream of a happy family. Within this doomed cycle, the most we get from religion is a spin on pop trends and self-help advice laced with words about God and vague concepts like love, joy, and peace. Preachers talk about a new life that transforms our thinking and places emphasis on eternal things rather than temporal things––on the things of God, not the things of earth. But I don’t see this transformation taking place among the churches I’ve visited. All I see are bumper-stickers and other “Christian” merchandise worn by Bible-toting “believers” who do not even faintly resemble the Jesus they claim as their Savior.

Screenshot from Average Life of a Modern Lemming

Earlier this year, when Rob and I were plowing through the final stages of Moral Calculus, we had a magically talented violinist helping us out named Meredith Bogacz. The sound of her fiddle was so delightful that we frequently forgot to eat, as our appetites had already been sated by the melodious meat that spilled forth from her bow. But really, Meredith is one of the hardest working musicians I’ve met, and always seems to have an overwhelming number of projects on her schedule. Now she’s about to release a solo EP of Celtic music (likely available next week) called “On the Porch”, accompanied by guitarist James Ashe. Here for your ears is the second track, entitled “The Butterfly – Dunmore Lasses – Toss the Feathers”. Forget about lunch and fill your ears with this.

“The Butterfly – Dunmore Lasses – Toss the Feathers” by Meredith Bogacz.

Abstract visual artist (and my former room mate) Jonathan Pearson has created a lot of art over his years in Des Moines. So much that when I visited his gallery at Smash, I became quite furious. “Jonathan, you vile, brilliant rogue!” I bellowed. “How could you have kept all of this a secret from me for so long?! Where did you stow it all?!” Jonathan, of course, just smiled at me and slapped me with one of his many canvases. “You’re yelling,” said he. I nodded. “Yes, I am,” said I. “I like to do that sometimes. Don’t you?” But by this time I had been escorted out of the gallery by two rather huskily-armed man-oxen who didn’t care to answer my question. As a result of this event, I will not be returning to the gallery. However, you might think about taking a look if you have the chance. His mixture of ink drawings and paint is quite mesmerizing at times. The exhibit lasts until the end of September. A sampling of his sumptuous work lies below. Try to keep your eyes from gnawing at the screen if you can.

Artwork by Jonathan Pearson.

Being the benevolent lords of music that we are, we’ve decided to give away one (1) entire MP3 from our just-released debut album, Moral Calculus. Simply click the download link beside “The Five Chieftains” in our Facebook playlist to gorge yourself on a feast of stringed instruments. And lest you’ve forgotten, the full album is a mere $4, available from our Web site.

Keeping Watch O’er the Bushel of Glowing Orbs

A couple of months ago, some of my friends participated in a 24-Hour Film contest and the result was quite good, especially considering the sort of half-realized muck that can often emerge from such nasty time constraints. Particularly impressive is the animated sequence at the end by Josh Larson and Wayde Stover. As I understand it, they were given extremely short notice and still put something very fitting and luscious together for the conclusion. Watch it here or click over to the YouTube page for more details on the film.

The West Excursion by Napkin Sketch Productions

Did Jeff Buckley frequently, to use Walker Percy’s words, anesthetize his cerebral cortex with ethyl alcohol? It’s impossible for me to say, for I know almost nothing of that young and ill-fated bard. However, I do know (to the degree that my frivolous epistemological wangling allows me) that Benjamin Franklin has expired.

That only goes to preface my impending pejorative in such a way that the ridiculous but alliterative title of this tripe is justified.

I hate rock and roll music. I think almost all of it sucks. And don’t trouble me with definitions; you and I both know it when we hear it. I have but a humble request for those readers who may be buried in studios huddled among the pro-tools ‘rig,’ cheap drums, wilted guitars and masses of cables in need of soldering. Please, for the love of God, the future of human music, and your own dignity: stop. Just stop. It’s over. The entire project was built upon the exploitation of what may have, in some forgotten time before the eighties, been a good idea. Immediately when Britain unleashed its furious assault upon American culture the game was up. There were, at most, four or five iterations and rambunctious dead ends which produced listenable noise, but those only serve to prove my point.

Immediately after its birth, like ‘rap-metal’ or the lesser known bald eagle-skin condom, it was dead. And, perhaps (or obviously?) counter-intuitively to some, it remains quite so. So stop.

Incidentally, Ben Franklin retains a common trait with rock and roll music. (Also, Jeff Buckley takes part). Too, Ben Franklin’s choice of relationship with the divine shares in this delicious inevitability of organic things like music and humans. Why is this? Because, I will take the liberty to theorize, Deism is in effect the same thing as atheism, and atheists have been given a pair of golden balls to wield. We moved on. We don’t need it anymore. There is absolutely no use for something that offers nothing.

Alcohol has destroyed many rockers, to be sure. In fact, I harbor a theory that alcohol (among other substances) is chiefly at fault for rock and roll. And while I haven’t the slightest shred of evidence for this statement, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Jeff Buckley was quite hammered when he met his end. We can extend the metaphor further, however. Rock and roll tumbled sticky and shiny from the tender womb of the American and British music of a happier time, drank its fill, felt the warmth and the joy, allowed us mere mortals to bask in its sublime glory, and subsequently plummeted from the proverbial bridge choking upon its own putrescent vomit before the river filled its charred lungs.

It’s about forward motion, you see. We Americans are bored, and we are bored especially with rock music. So, in addition to our good, stop for your own good. Buy a fucking turntable or something.

Photograph by Dave Davidson

Ten years after their original airing, Williams Street has finally released a DVD of the 1998/1999 Space Ghost Coast to Coast episodes. This was one of my favorite nonsensical shows when I was younger, and as a result, I’ve snatched up a copy pretty quickly. Here, for those interested, are some screen captures of the menus, which feature the guests sketched out in pencil with rollover Space Ghost masks. As with Volume Four, I’ll be shipping several copies overseas via eBay auctions, seeing as though the Williams Street shop only ships to the U.S. and Canada.

Menu from Disc 1 of Space Ghost Coast to Coast: V5

Menu from Disc 1 of Space Ghost Coast to Coast: V5

Menu from Disc 2 of Space Ghost Coast to Coast: V5

Menu from Disc 2 of Space Ghost Coast to Coast: V5

The only track from Moral Calculus that Rob and I haven’t posted here is called “A Skeleton Grafts a Childe”, which is the percussive sequel to “A Childe Grafts a Bone”. As a way of getting you off the couch and on to another site, we’re making this available to listen to at our ReverbNation site. We hope your bones are chilled.

Photograph by Wesley Norman.

After over a year’s worth of work, Rob Ogden and I have finally given birth to a new album filled with bombastic yet tender orchestral delights! This beast — entitled “Moral Calculus” — contains eleven luscious tracks of orchestral mayhem, and is the first full-length album either of us have released in five years.

The album clocks in at 57 minutes and features a variety of styles including symphonic, percussion, solo, ambient, and vocally driven pieces. You can listen to much of it in high quality by heading over to makebelievemachines.com.

The digital download will cost you a mere $4, which any economist will tell you is (absolutely) meaningless, so to speak.

Along with nearly an hour’s worth of music, each full album purchase will also include a 7-page PDF booklet containing artwork and lyrics.

Full Track Listing:
1. Punctured Placenta and Post-Birth Peril (7:19)
2. Fallen Shackles of a Weathered Jouster (5:58)
3. The Five Chieftains (4:15)
4. A Childe Grafts a Bone (1:14)
5. The Tragedy of the Sprite, Dragonfly, and Crow (8:18)
6. And Sleep Took Their Cudgeled Bodies (5:59)
7. Spiders Savor a Succulent Fleshfeast (4:43)
8. From Grove to Thicket, Hasten Thee – O’er Root and Under Tree! (7:49)
9. A Skeleton Grafts a Childe (3:07)
10. Thin Glass Islands on a Clouded Sea (3:14)
11. What the Wind Whispered to the Wheat (4:57)

Moral Calculus album cover art by Wesley Norman