What I'm Thinking Is So Delicate, If I Breath, Ya Know, I Might Lose It...
We just had band practice.
Without Andy has a new song. We actually haven't spent too much time on it but I do believe that we've put a lot of energy and care into it. It's fucking cool.
Afterwards, me and Matt went and got some hot chocolate(which I've never had before..it's aight) and talked in his car in front of the space for like two hours about music and people.
We talked about the role music serves in our lives and what it means to us and like this sounds so cheesey...but I seriously felt choked up and like I couldn't speak. Just sound has had such a profound effect on my life that it's hard to even call it an effect. It's hard cuz it feels like it is my life, like one entity. Thus not a life that's being effected by music but a life that is, in it's essence, music; a fact that's made itself more present now that I spend like 95% of my life by myself.
Sometimes I actually feel overwhelmed by this urge to hear and make something out of sound. I'm so moved by what I hear sometimes that I really feel this unsettledness in my body and I would do anything to have the chance to make someone else feel like that. Like there's this feeling that I get when I listen to "Pinkerton" that I would truly have trouble explaining to most people adequately. When the drums come in on "Tired Of Sex" and just the stark honesty of everything Rivers says on that album...I'm just like lost. I can't explain that feeling.
It's hard to explain to someone that this is what you want to do and that this is what you kind of need to do. I can say I go to school and that I might eventually get a degree in something and get some kind of job but that's just a response and kind of something to comfort myself as well...a kind of supplement for what I'm really feeling: I'm feelin' like I wanna make some fucking music haha.
It's so weird to say. In fact I don't even really know what else to say about it. I just feel fortunate that I can share that feeling with Matt and make music that I am really proud of with this band. I really really love all three of them and despite the constant uphill battle that is Without Andy and being a band itself, I am continually surprised and rewarded by the noises the four of us make and if given the right chance, we're going to make something really special.
There's something so comforting in heartfelt or thoughtful music that it's frustrating to hear anything else. This is a comfort, often a longing one, that has gradually over the past few years superseded(partially out of necessity and partially for the sake of my own sanity) my feelings, my attention, and kinda my soul.
-Andy
"I sometimes think about how quiet the world must have been, maybe a hundred years ago. I say that, having just come back from a walk outside...and it was so dark I could not even see my own feet as I walked. But more startling was what I could hear... I could hear everything... but it made so little clatter that the mere volume of my breathing drowned out the entire world.... I thought, 'How torturous this soundlessness would be, a hundred or so years ago, when music and the noises that surround us today - like even just the whir of the refrigerator - could give no shelter from the dead silences that easily provoke anxiety in someone with a troubled mind... not to have the slightest distraction from your worries could prove to be unbearable.' My imagination stops in fear that if, for some reason, the molecular structure of our atmosphere shifted slightly and all sounds ceased - not hearing, but sounds - for even just twenty-four hours, the suicides could be in the millions, myself perhaps included.
Some of the melodrama of my story may be inherent in my circumstances. For years my mind has been filled with the pursuit of sounds. Some coming in from outside, some emanating from within. And I've struggled to reconcile the difference between the two - what has been imagined versus what is actually being heard. And sometimes I feel like I've taken this path so many times that, if it is done consciously, the logic and naturalness eludes me... kind of like when you say a word over and over, after about ten or fifteen times it starts to sound like gibberish and, if analyzed, loses its meaning. Reality is like that - the more you think about it the less real it seems.... So maybe when I was suddenly submerged into this total, empty silence on that dreadful evening walk, it caused me to consider this mechanism of listening that I so much take for granted. And I hope to never be so scared again.... It may sound like I am a trembling, drooling, freak who has gone mad.... This is not madness; it is, I believe, the very opposite....
I say this only to make the point that I do not wish to be perceived as nuts, mad, drug-damaged or even eccentric.... All of these cliches, if they were true, I would openly accept. But since they are wrong I feel the need to proclaim, with some authority, that this image be rejected. Knowing full well that there is a certain amount of insulation and sympathy that accompanies this persona. What I mean is that, when a person is considered "unstable," he or she is able to do things that would otherwise be deemed "stupid" and get away with it.... I have pursued questionable goals, I admit... but I have pursued them with sober determination towards, I feel, an appreciation of new possibilities...."
-Wayne Coyne(having taken a walk outside the studio while recording "The Soft Bulletin")
Without Andy has a new song. We actually haven't spent too much time on it but I do believe that we've put a lot of energy and care into it. It's fucking cool.
Afterwards, me and Matt went and got some hot chocolate(which I've never had before..it's aight) and talked in his car in front of the space for like two hours about music and people.
We talked about the role music serves in our lives and what it means to us and like this sounds so cheesey...but I seriously felt choked up and like I couldn't speak. Just sound has had such a profound effect on my life that it's hard to even call it an effect. It's hard cuz it feels like it is my life, like one entity. Thus not a life that's being effected by music but a life that is, in it's essence, music; a fact that's made itself more present now that I spend like 95% of my life by myself.
Sometimes I actually feel overwhelmed by this urge to hear and make something out of sound. I'm so moved by what I hear sometimes that I really feel this unsettledness in my body and I would do anything to have the chance to make someone else feel like that. Like there's this feeling that I get when I listen to "Pinkerton" that I would truly have trouble explaining to most people adequately. When the drums come in on "Tired Of Sex" and just the stark honesty of everything Rivers says on that album...I'm just like lost. I can't explain that feeling.
It's hard to explain to someone that this is what you want to do and that this is what you kind of need to do. I can say I go to school and that I might eventually get a degree in something and get some kind of job but that's just a response and kind of something to comfort myself as well...a kind of supplement for what I'm really feeling: I'm feelin' like I wanna make some fucking music haha.
It's so weird to say. In fact I don't even really know what else to say about it. I just feel fortunate that I can share that feeling with Matt and make music that I am really proud of with this band. I really really love all three of them and despite the constant uphill battle that is Without Andy and being a band itself, I am continually surprised and rewarded by the noises the four of us make and if given the right chance, we're going to make something really special.
There's something so comforting in heartfelt or thoughtful music that it's frustrating to hear anything else. This is a comfort, often a longing one, that has gradually over the past few years superseded(partially out of necessity and partially for the sake of my own sanity) my feelings, my attention, and kinda my soul.
-Andy
"I sometimes think about how quiet the world must have been, maybe a hundred years ago. I say that, having just come back from a walk outside...and it was so dark I could not even see my own feet as I walked. But more startling was what I could hear... I could hear everything... but it made so little clatter that the mere volume of my breathing drowned out the entire world.... I thought, 'How torturous this soundlessness would be, a hundred or so years ago, when music and the noises that surround us today - like even just the whir of the refrigerator - could give no shelter from the dead silences that easily provoke anxiety in someone with a troubled mind... not to have the slightest distraction from your worries could prove to be unbearable.' My imagination stops in fear that if, for some reason, the molecular structure of our atmosphere shifted slightly and all sounds ceased - not hearing, but sounds - for even just twenty-four hours, the suicides could be in the millions, myself perhaps included.
Some of the melodrama of my story may be inherent in my circumstances. For years my mind has been filled with the pursuit of sounds. Some coming in from outside, some emanating from within. And I've struggled to reconcile the difference between the two - what has been imagined versus what is actually being heard. And sometimes I feel like I've taken this path so many times that, if it is done consciously, the logic and naturalness eludes me... kind of like when you say a word over and over, after about ten or fifteen times it starts to sound like gibberish and, if analyzed, loses its meaning. Reality is like that - the more you think about it the less real it seems.... So maybe when I was suddenly submerged into this total, empty silence on that dreadful evening walk, it caused me to consider this mechanism of listening that I so much take for granted. And I hope to never be so scared again.... It may sound like I am a trembling, drooling, freak who has gone mad.... This is not madness; it is, I believe, the very opposite....
I say this only to make the point that I do not wish to be perceived as nuts, mad, drug-damaged or even eccentric.... All of these cliches, if they were true, I would openly accept. But since they are wrong I feel the need to proclaim, with some authority, that this image be rejected. Knowing full well that there is a certain amount of insulation and sympathy that accompanies this persona. What I mean is that, when a person is considered "unstable," he or she is able to do things that would otherwise be deemed "stupid" and get away with it.... I have pursued questionable goals, I admit... but I have pursued them with sober determination towards, I feel, an appreciation of new possibilities...."
-Wayne Coyne(having taken a walk outside the studio while recording "The Soft Bulletin")