A Year Later, “Waves” Is Finally On CD

This time last year I was sick with inspiration and creating “Waves” in a furious urgency. Everyday was filled with the unquestioned conviction that I would write, or record, or mix, another song. One week, I went four straight days writing or programming one song at night, recording lyrics the next morning, and mixing the song during the rest of the day. It was a creatively frantic and physically unhealthy time, but I was making the album I knew I’d needed to make since I was 16 years old and first had to deal with the unsolicited demon of depression and the awareness of the world’s suffering. In a strange way, expelling my hopelessness and guilt, I was making myself, if not quite happy, proud.

Life, for me, meanders more often than it charges forward and shortly after releasing “Waves” the economic realities that had given me such opportunity and privilege to explore my own emotional landscape were, for the first time in my life, genuinely threatening to remove themselves. I tried making things work with a local magazine but it seemed like personal conflicts and the monetary unreality of the venture were leading to less-than nowhere. That path was not leading towards a remotely stable future.

A pathetic selfie I took around the time shortly after finishing Waves

A pathetic selfie I took around the time shortly after finishing Waves

Around this time, Zeke, my sort-of-adopted-son, was approaching the age of three and Rebekah was about to begin a welding apprenticeship. As beneficial as our prior unemployment had been for Zeke’s mental development, it was becoming obvious that providing him with a day-care or preschool environment where he could interact with his peers would be the best thing for him, but doing so takes money and Rebekah (my partner) would still only be making but so much. If I wasn’t supporting myself, I was going to become a drain. I needed a day-job.

Rebekah & Zeke getting ready to go out.

Rebekah & Zeke getting ready to go out.

I’m in a very different place this year than I was last year. I managed to use my genuine knowledge and confidence in the audio-visual field to land a job as a production technician. Instead of going to bed at 4:30 in the morning after long nights of song-writing, I’m showing up at work and changing microphone batteries for a local news station at 4:30 in the morning.

Hopelessness is not my motivating force anymore, but I’m still incredibly proud of the experience I crafted with “Waves.” With long overdue excitement and pride, I’m officially releasing a short-run of Waves on CD. The CD is a full-color glossy disc and comes with an 8-panel glossy booklet with lyrics and liner notes. I’ll be assembling these together by hand on a made-to-order basis.

Photo of "Waves" on Compact Disc

Photo of “Waves” on Compact Disc

You can order one at https://thepurgeva.bandcamp.com/album/waves or shoot me a line.

The Purge, like my life, is a work in progress.


The Crisis

As important as it may be, as a musician, to focus on yourself and your own visions, it’s also important to work with other talented and creative people. As an artist, I was in the middle of a crisis with balancing my many different musical inclinations with my new career and with my personal life feeling more and more like a traditional family with all the duties and responsibilities that accompanied it. As much music as I had in the works (it’s coming, I promise), I had really been stumbling over myself in terms of concrete direction and lack of confidence in new lyrics. Despite all the information I’ve been inundated with at the news station, it’s left me feeling more overwhelmed than anything when I’ve tried to synthesize it all and, with that lack of direction, music started to feel more like a chore I was neglecting than a genuine passion. I needed to do something drastic so I could simply enjoy music again.

Enter “The Crisis:”

The Crisis is the brainchild of Kenneth Thomas, one of the most brilliant thinkers I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. If he isn’t the smartest guy in the room, he’s probably, at least, the most informed and not afraid to tell you of his, often, controversial opinions about the overall state of the world. This guy probably dreams in dialectic. Thus far, it’s been an honor to be play keys alongside him (guitar) and with Alan Jelercic (drums) and Hillary Heckard (bass), we’ve been bringing his music to life.

Our sound is pretty easy to describe but may not be as easily understood for those not musically inclined. We’re trying to perform 60s and 70s style garage rock with middle eastern key signatures transposed for our western instruments. Now that we’re about five or six songs into the process, I can confidently say that I think we’re succeeding and you’ll be able to hear what I mean soon enough.

With song titles like “Back in the ISIL” and “Don’t Date the Data Monster” we’re looking at what it means to do everyday things like consume news or update Facebook without losing the fun and upbeat pace that makes rock so accessible. What’s been most exciting for me thus far has been leaving a session with a hook Ken wrote or that I helped craft still cycling through my head and the genuine camaraderie we all seem to feel in that room now that things are coming together. There were some rocky patches in the beginning with learning how to work with others and get used to the different scales and arrangements Ken is writing in, but it’s all feeling fairly intuitive now.

At our current pace, we’ll be ready to perform in late October/early November, so look out for The Crisis!
There are always and will always be plans to finish new Purge work, but exploring an entirely different sound with different people has been a delightful change of pace for me.

Tenacity, on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, etc.!

Hey all! Tenacity is finally available through major digital distributors!

It took me a while to get it out there because, frankly, I couldn’t budget the money it costs to upload through CDBaby or Tunecore. I’m trying out a new service called “Distrokid,” and from what I’ve heard about it and my experience thus far, I find it highly recommendable! Their subscription structure makes them incredibly reasonable for active artists who like to regularly releases their material.

Here’s the breakdown; for a yearly fee of $19.99 (that’s less than $2.00 a month) you can get as much of your material released through them as you need! And guess what! They don’t even take a commission on your sales like CDBaby!

I already feel so much freer to make more music and release it now that one less stress factor has been removed from the equation.

For those of you who don’t know, you can still get Tenacity on Bandcamp (currently for free/donation), but for some of you who prefer the ease of organization from using a different service and don’t mind paying a little extra for it (the vast majority of it to the artist), you now have the opportunity with me.

I’ll probably be recommending Distrokid to all my musician friends from now on.

You can learn more about them at www.distrokid.com.


When I was younger (I think in high school), I read a famous newspaper article entitled, “Thirty-Seven Who Saw Murder Didn’t Call the Police.” The headline pretty much says it all; thirty-seven bystanders and neighbors heard or witnessed the murder of Catherine “Kitty” Genovese and deliberated about calling the police until it was too late. It’s a poignant story that has stayed with me because of how inhuman the people in that story seemed to be and I, like any young person, told myself I would behave differently in a similar situation.

I have a song called Seized. It’s a narrative song that tells the story of a person, late at night in a lonely London square, witnessing a drunk or drugged woman being escorted against her will by three men. The narrator is paralyzed with fear and shock that such a thing is even happening and does virtually nothing to stop it, moves on with his life and then flies home to another country.

One of the first things they teach you in an introductory lesson to reading poetry is to never assume that a first-person narrator is speaking as the author him/herself. Many writers will pass on that narrative responsibility to a fictional character and it is a very wise storytelling technique to do so. Every now and again, however, a poem or lyric is, in fact, autobiographical. The lyrics in the song, Seized, are one of those exceptions.

I was on vacation with a girl-who-HAPPENS-to-be-my-friend-NOT-my-girlfriend to spend a couple of weeks abroad in London as a kind of graduation present after earning my B.A.. One night, after enjoying a small festival along the Thames filled with dozens of talented buskers ranging from The Beatles reenactors to Gypsy Punks to Jugglers, and then later failing to find a hip night-club near our hotel in Croydon, myself and my traveling companion found ourselves witnesses to an uncomfortable scene.

There were a ton of buskers over by the Ferris Wheel, a.k.a. The London Eye.

There were a ton of buskers over by the Ferris Wheel, a.k.a. The London Eye.

The whole scene could not have lasted more than a couple of minutes but I’ve given it a great deal of thought. Despite that, I find myself, now, trying to avoid the memory by finding convenient distractions around me.

An empty square in the city is an uncanny place. At just about any time during the day there is an aliveness and a hustle; a filled-with-people-ness, that feels so intrinsically character to the location that to walk through it alone is to feel, yourself, like some societal pariah. When something goes wrong and there are no modest masses or authorities to call to, you suddenly cease to sympathize with all your libertarian, police-hating friends and regret that you can’t pass on responsibility to someone with a gun and a marked car or a distant administrator of justice, peeping through a camera’s lens. And don’t let them argue that if you had a gun you’d have felt empowered. You still would not had you been outnumbered. Any daring acts of heroism against the odds would still have to occur after that fear of death was overcome, and in that environment the fear of grave retaliation would be heightened still… But I am avoiding the action.

I heard a voice sneak beyond the Turkish men surrounding a tall, long black-haired woman. For a moment she stopped and they broke formation, perhaps startled by her change of heart. “I think I need to head home,” she said. The men, all in brown button-ups, their hair uniformly spiked with grease, scuttled around her once more and chanted their suggestive and condescending reassurances.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’re going to have fun together.”

She began to head the other direction but seemed to struggle with simply maintaining her balance when two of the men slipped under her shoulders and diverted her back towards the direction they’d been heading. She struggled against them shortly, dragging her feet for a few seconds before surrendering herself to the current. Before they turned away and headed back towards the street, her green eyes looked at the two of us and she whimpered meekly, possibly because she knew in her heart already that we two tourists wouldn’t know what to do or because she’d simply not the energy to raise a more appropriate scene, “No, no, no….” My companion and I looked at each other for a moment after the group disappeared around a corner, and then we wordlessly continued on our way. The next day, I wrote a love letter to my girlfriend and had eggs for breakfast in the hotel lobby.

I think on this sometimes, and I try not to wonder what did or didn’t happen after that, but its impossible not to. I’m forced to ask myself, “Did they scuttle past a helpful police officer and raise a scene or did they make it back to the men’s building?” I don’t like imagining what may or may not have happened then. I could pretend they stayed up late and watched Netflix together or something, but I’m not young and stupid enough for that. I can only assume that if they did make it back, at the very least, something degrading and humiliating happened to that woman, and at worst something violent and even more horrible did.

Writing songs about your self is an admittedly self-absorbed act, but I don’t believe it’s usually an egotistical boast as much as it is a way to express a timid and frail ego. Standing by and watching, and then later trying to forget (with iterate success and failure), that woman was a tremendous blow to my ego. I’ve told myself that I was scared and outnumbered by men who appeared like they could beat me in a fight, and I did honestly fear that they may have been armed with a concealed weapon (very probably a latently racist thought, but they already appeared to be perpetrating rape) to try to expunge my feelings of guilt, but it’s never worked for long. Some say chivalry is dead, and I learned that night that I am no knight. While “Macho” culture has its own horrible pitfalls and misogynist mutations, as a “Man” I know I was supposed to try and stop them, or at the very least distract them so that she might have had a better chance to escape. The least I could have done was shout, “she should be allowed to express her autonomy, guys!” But I didn’t do that. I was in an unfamiliar place faced with an unfamiliar crisis and I was afraid for myself and my companion so I “played it safe” at that woman’s expense.

At some point along the way, I had become just like those people who stood by and did nothing while Kitty Genovese was killed.

RAINN Charity

A couple of months ago I made it a habit where I donate half of whatever money I raise through Bandcamp.com sales to charity.* I’m making a promise right now that I’m going to continue this trend until at least the end of the year. After the month of May, my donations will go to RAINN, an organization dedicated to raising awareness of what is and ending non-consensual sexual violence.

You can learn more about RAINN at http://www.rainn.org/get-information.

*In case you’re wondering why I’m only donating Bandcamp.com sales and not other online retailers like iTunes and whatever, it’s because that stuff is so much harder to keep track of because I sometimes won’t receive or even be made aware of sales made there until literally three months afterwards and I can’t get my hands on any of the money made there until I reach a certain cap. With Bandcamp.com, I get an automated email almost immediately when someone buys my music and it gets deposited into my Paypal account just as quickly. Click the “Music & Merchandise” tab on the menu to visit my Bandcamp page, or Click Here.