the sand storms dune we hope sun-soaked beneath bare feet; I dream of a collaborative tropical escape: run busted hand up mended leg; fuck it all away. it’s a million o’clock in late February and the Sirens sound off across the polar vortex. i awake to an announcement coming over the intercom: “no skin. i repeat, no skin.”
Hunger was good discipline. As good as any other. Intransitive: we starved as a people. Transitive: you starved yourselves. Distinction: made. Next: “Non serviam,” spoken in the language of one of the two masters. Abraham needs: nothing Food water oxygen shelter sleep Next: no next. Belonging. Always be longing. Belonging to hunger. Self-actualizing: control by means of self-deprivation. Still? ibid. Love: easy to give. Loyalty: in tact. Thought: complete. Companionship: infrequent. Day 66 = Day 65+1. Surgically repeat. Not feeling hungry, but knowing hungry. Sleep: insufficient. Strength comes from: N/A Non serviam, Yes? No. Scars visible? Some: armies. There are rockets in the South. News: attended to. War: (more) imminent. The way they worked an gorta mor was objectively brilliant. Starve them out of their land and language. Mechanism: willingness and means. Laudabiliter. Motive: land and resources. And: pride of conquering our savage race. What won: property, real estate, a feather in the cap—a new civilization saved from barbarism and godless graces. What lost: a matter of perception. "In the end the world will break your heart," Moynahan said, speaking of the things our people brought with them across oceans. Táim ceart go leor. Noted. Still: "Hunger was good discipline," another said, quoting the gentleman from Illinois. "At least that if no more," Spoken through her eyes. And for his, the near-blind Irishman spoke the long dead language—now graven in the language of the outlaw—with the skill and confidence of sawdust falling gently and gently falling upon the floor of the woodshed.
The drug of my drug-- begotten, not made-- as a pause a cliff a bluff of my bluff kin (d’ling d’ling) ch, 1) the Knifeblade threads untold bellies’ buttons through buttons, one after the next, to, he says harpoon god. I consider the foreskin gone of my forekin gone agin. I wander along the dark falls of your night where the light fists in. there is a kind of magnetic ailment I rail against a kind of steel garter belt that wraps thigh trembling hand-thigh ordination, all hail of yours; ahowl of it, a bloodless trauma of inbeaten hearts: poundless, penniless, and free.
Official Music Video for “Generator,” by Tim Holland.
How to keep abreast of death. if death be a point of concern. misaligned is a good way of describing the detours taken by what can more commonly be referred to as self-destruction. as with the origin of all things, there is a gratification to be apprehended, and we must we the sand of our sand, the dirt of our dirt. hope for no more [like bruises], want no more [like broken bones]. ache for no more [like feeling—anything at all]. our clothes and hands are dusty in the distance in the shadow of psalms and songs from a long-ago-vacated chicken coop “what is clear here?” one can only say, where once there was burden, there is burden no more. burden no one else no more. Lulu is unburdened too. heels up on the true birdens of night. whores of all things all sexes and ages. on every level there is a fragment of death—the early comprehension of anxiety giving way to rational fear. Lulu drinks charcoal in supine position. the blood-baron—the baroness— scale the great undoing—the undoing of all things. then: dig to find that which is underneath. and then what lies beneath that we are a curious accident. our best hope: to understand madness. insanity. to differentiate it from what remains. around the bend from where we sat as children chewing stalks of wheatgrass— at the far end of West Street—is a treeless strip of land that dissects the forest. before we were born, the township named this patch of dry grassland “Division Street.” it was earmarked eminent domain—the graveyard on the other end of Division Street was near capacity. the trees on either end would soon make way for bodies. ours is an occurrence of exhaustion that falls outside of this. Barely.
“A Barry Island of the Mind,” is now available on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, and other digital stores/platforms
Listen via Soundcloud:
Or, stream for free on Spotify:
For additional information, please use the form below:
New Album: “A Barry Island of the Mind” comes out Monday, July 17. Sneak a listen to these promotional tracks…
“A Barry Island of the Mind: Main Theme”
“Goatheart Comes in Tall on Hind Legs (Brings Music)”
The complete album will be available on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, and other stores starting Monday, July 17, 2017.
For more information, or if you would like a CD version of the album, promo poster, or have inquiries, please contact me via email – firstname.lastname@example.org.
I am happy to share four new songs from my forthcoming release “A Barry Island of the Mind.” The album uses elements of classical music to tell the story of exiles in search of meaningful connection, communication, and inner peace in the aftermath of a devastating conflict.
UNPLUGGED MAGAZINE talks to The Jazz June’s Andrew Low about his newly launched project with Tim Holland–Uncle Hunter & the Buffalo
NOTE: INTERVIEW IS REPOSTED TO STOMPING ON THE TERRA FROM UNPLUGGED MAGAZINE’S INTERVIEW PUBLISHED EARLIER TODAY, 20 SEPTEMBER 2016
Uncle Hunter and the Buffalo is the Jazz June’s Andrew Low (Uncle Hunter) and Tim Holland (the Buffalo) in a folkier, dirtier light. Though the two have played together for nearly 20 years, the upcoming EP under this new moniker is a departure from what they created with the tunes that projected them to emo fame. Instead of scheduled studio time, the songs were recorded in Andrew’s living room in Walthamstow and in Tim’s apartment in Brooklyn.
It’s been two years almost to the day since we spoke about “After the Earthquake.” Outside of music, what’s been going on in your life?
Well, the biggest thing is that my daughter Annie was born 16 months ago and is now my best buddy and taking up most of my thoughts and efforts. I also started a new job with the microphone company Shure, so time has been evenly split between work and home. I don’t actually need to sleep anymore because I have gotten used to the crazy sleepless schedule so I found time to write a few new songs in the twilight hours.
I’ve read the bio, but what do you think sets Uncle Hunter and the Buffalo apart from The Jazz June? Other than the fact it was recorded in your guys’ apartments instead of a studio.
The apartment studio recordings were more of a necessity than a choice. We would love to record at a studio but we are starting this thing on our own so we are the ones footing the bill. But that is the huge difference between this project and the Jazz June–everything is brand new and like starting from scratch, whereas the Jazz June has been around for over 20 years. Also, the process of writing a song with just one other person vs. four other people means that we have a lot more discussions about what we should and shouldn’t do between each other, rather than each person writing their individual parts. There are only two of us so we are able to use quieter acoustic instruments and key boards to a more noticeable effect without trying to blend them in with amplified guitars and a loud drum kit.
The songs I’ve heard have heard are far less polished, and a bit folkier—is that something you two were shooting for?
Bryan from the Jazz June has labeled it ‘freak folk,’ which I like. I mean, we didn’t sit down and say, “let’s write an unpolished folk album,” but the music we like, listen to and talk about is more along those lines (Neutral Milk Hotel, Bob Dylan etc.) And again, I don’t think we would ever describe ourselves as a folk band, but when I approach playing acoustic guitar I always seem to treat it as both an instrument that creates rhythm and percussion, so my strumming style is usually less rock and roll/4 on the floor/down stroked and more like a train going down a bumpy track, which is probably where you are feeling the folk influence from. It’s funny because I used to be in a totally electric punk band called wake up dead, and people used to tell me they heard a folk thing going on with the songs.
With regards to the production style, I have always been a big fan of Sebadoh albums like “Smash Your Head on The Punk Rock,” and love the sound of buzzing instruments and tape hiss. I actually prefer it to really quite and clean studio albums.
Even though you’ve been playing with Tim for almost 20 years, was the writing process any different for this EP?
Yes, definitely, because when I used to play with Tim in the Jazz June he would be one of five people standing in a rehearsal room playing a loud instrument over other loud instruments, so now our attention is focused much more on a few quiet instruments that we try to layer and weave in and out of the songs.
Last time we talked I asked if you were nervous about releasing new Jazz June material after more than a decade. Do you still feel any of those nerves now, like you have a reputation to uphold, or is this project a clean slate?
A little bit. I guess the anxious person inside of me thinks that I am going to put anyone who has ever listened to The Jazz June off forever if I put out a new album that they don’t like, but that is just good old paranoia kicking in. I use a small group of friends that I have had for many, many years as a sounding board for all my new music. If they like it and think I should put it out then I am 100 per cent sold and don’t really bother worrying about anyone else’s opinion.
Don’t get me wrong, I want everyone to like it, but my personal satisfaction comes from the people who get the style and references and creativity that I am trying to achieve. Plus, the Jazz June has had so many bad reviews over the years that I am totally immune to negative criticism. It was funny, just after “After the Earthquake” came out we received a one line message from a kid in Australia asking the question “why do you guys suck so bad now?” My point is that I can take the criticism so it is not as nerve wracking as it used to be.
Do you see this EP being a one-off thing, or do you think at this point in your life or career that it gives you some sort of satisfaction that the Jazz June maybe doesn’t?
Definitely not. We have already started working on new songs and converse about video, music, podcasts and other ideas almost every day. I have a back log of ideas on my phone that I need to send to Tim to work on, and he has three or four new ones for me to develop. I am going to do solo gigs in the UK and he is going to come over in April for some shows. We’ll probably do some U.S. shows when I am over in June.
Are you tired of all these Jazz June questions yet?
No, those guys are some of my favorite people in the world and I like having to think about them and the music we have been making for the past two decades.
Did writing for “After the Earthquake” spur you to write more? Or have some of these ideas been bouncing around for a while?
To be totally honest, some of these songs I had originally sent to the Jazz June guys for a follow up EP to “After the Earthquake,” but we are just not able to work on new music right now for various time and scheduling reasons. I have been pretty busy the past 16 months since my daughter was born and those guys all have at least two kids each, businesses to run and busy lives. We’ve had births and deaths, house moves and house fires, new jobs and lots of other things happen over the past two years. Tim visited London for two weeks last April and we just started recording some of them for fun, but once we got into the process it was going so well that we decided to try and see how we could work on them via email between Brooklyn and London.
Can you share some background about the song “Fight”? (STREAM THE NEW TRACK HERE)
“Fight” is a song that has had many incarnations. The lyrics are about being mad at yourself for being lazy. If it had been recorded with a band, I would have asked the drummer to steal the drum beat from the Archers of Loaf song “Web in Front,” but I think Tim has selected just the right mix of instruments to suit the down tuned new mood of the song.
Lastly, what can you tell me about “Mutant Albino Radioactive Crocodiles”?
That was just a joke name for the EP. It is actually from a Werner Herzog documentary called “Cave of Forgotten Dreams” that I have not seen yet but heard him mention it on a podcast. Apparently, there are albino crocodiles that have been mutated by radiation from a nuclear plant in the movie. That is all I know. I just thought it was fucking weird and amazing combination of random words, and when you hear Werner say it in his accent it is even better. I must have listed that by accident on the MP3 I sent to you.
Interview by Alisha Kirby
for my friends, here and gone.
For those of you who like moving pictures, here is a (relatively) complete live show that kicked off “the Medicine” tour in NYC…as well as some songs from random show from the same time period (and a doc teaser):
Live at Brownies, Summer 2000:
A no frills promo for an upcoming documentary about “the Medicine:”
Some live shows from the 1997-2000 era:
Follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Instagram…there is plenty more we’d like to share with you.