Cataloguing and commentating the music of aoifevel
Track 1 is the introduction to a tape I found in a tape deck at a Goodwill in Chatham, Illinois (I have uploaded the full tape on YouTube and archive.org). I grew up partially in Springfield, IL, and partially in Wingo, KY. While in Springfield, I went to a private Catholic grade school and was in a Catholic home, I went to mass twice a week and was supposed to be confirmed. I never was, but thats a whole different story. However, when I was in Wingo, my fathers side of the family took me to Wingo Old Cumberland Presbyterian Church, and that was my view of Protestantism.
A small, southern, mostly white congregation (who all despised me because they knew I was Catholic), with a loud and energetic pastor accompanied by his wife, the pianist, I was always used to it, but just enough outside of it that I was fascinated every time I went. Nearly every white rural protestant church piano is played the same way as the others. The tape that I found of Lisa Paddack brought me back to Wingo after not going to that church once in years. I wanted this memory of wonder and slight rejection to start the record with, and the cut to Track 2's intro was intentional. The contrast between how they have frozen their perception of me and how I am now.
Track 2 is named Titanium Dioxide because it was a main ingredient in the "natural" erection pills I stole from [...]'s dad. I pretended to only take 4, but I took 8. They didn't work. I then stopped estrogen from the shame I felt, it was blanketing and sharp and I hated it. I'm sorry [...] and [...] for making you think it was your fault. Sildenafil. Sildenafil.
Track 3 did not know he was being recorded. That is real genuine hatred. Counter-Strike will do that to ya I guess.
Track 4 was made in the company of [...], parallel creation, I made music, he drew. My best song post Hot Fudge Sunday. I have nothing else to tell you.
Track 5 begins with a recording of me the first time I ever took dextromethorphan on a childrens playground playing with the chimes with [...]. Trying to "teach music" to someone who hasn't had it click yet is difficult, but rewarding. The lyrics are not posted on Bandcamp, so you get them as a treat for reading this whole thing.
Daughter of Jerusalem, please don't cry now
You still have so much life left to live
Mother of Galway, hold my hand now
I bring so much to you that thanks are in order
My lost love of time, the dials are right
Our understanding overlaps, shared inebrience
Garden of En-Geidi, track my eyes now
You see my appreciation being distracted
Owner of your pet, never let go now
Your hand upon the leash brings her comfort
Track 6's title is not to be read into, unless I have already told you what it means. Do not ponder unless you really want to.
This was the project that shifted how I viewed releasing music, and it changed how I go about my creative process. After this one, I could just do whatever I wanted! It's art! It's me! All music is, even if not intended to be, an expression of the artists mind while making it. It isn't a rule because it happens, it's a rule because there is no control over it. Knowing music through this angle allows you to see so much more in every use of the art. Make art.
I have no recollection of making Track 1, except for adding a dissonating frequency in only the left channel to simulate tinnitus caused by a biologically stressful event. Imagine witnessing the baptism of Christ, hearing the father confirm his son to the ministry! You would remember that moment forever.
The Wedding At Cana was the first song I ever made completely digitally. I was gifted my stepmother's old MacBook Air and I made the song using a cracked version of Logic. This may be my favorite song I have ever made. The base of the songs harmonic content is a small sample of the original recording of an older song I had made, Fragile; I then shifted the pitch of this quarter of a second sample a quarter step up, then down. Up, then down.
The account of the Wedding At Cana in John 2:1-16 is recited rhythmically in its original Koine Greek over the dense track. Imagine, maybe, that you are a young man or woman going to a wedding of, say, your cousin, in the North of Palestine. You are already so drunk on the wine they have provided for the party, you feel so very human, and then through inebriated senses, you watch the Son of God begin his worldly ministry with the miracle at Cana. You have seen God dip his hands into the wine you will surely drink, and you can't pin it down yet, you know that this is the most important moment in history.
Track 3 is a sound collage of the month of September, 2023. I was in Community College, I was working, the air was getting cooler, and I had Jenny Marion in my life for the first time ever. These were the days. The small audio clip at the end of the track I found on my phone's voice memo app, and it was only 0.6 seconds long. I don't know who I'm laughing with, or what about, but I really am grateful that such a small slice of a fun time was kept to be reminisced on.
Track 4 is bad. This should have been a 5 track EP. The ending is nice but it is just as boring as the original three year old "I Can't Say". At least in that version I was edgy.
Track 5 is the better version of Fragile. I wrote Fragile around the same time I first wrote Knife In Your Pocket, and it holds similar significance to me. My voice on this does it justice. Lightposts surround my door.
I knew the only way I could ever re-record this song was to use only clean acoustic guitar and layer my voice on top of each other a dizzying number of times. My new voice, as well as finally finding the lyrics I wrote right after it happened, I think this lives up to the original version of Knife In Your Pocket well.
soon