The desert. The vast lands.
In fact I am already back home in the city, and yet the silence of those Californian wastelands doesn't cease to resonate in me. I walk through Germany's dull winter days, still dragging a faint notion of those vivid, flawless skies along, and still pretend to feel the dusty heat as I am wrapped up and my scarf is sparkling with the frozen drips of condensed breath.
And there is more I can't let go of yet.
And days get heavy as the new year rolls in, dark and dull and full of disappointment. I am weak and aching, turn into a ghost of retrospection, tired of dragging on the yearning for a far place and lost love like a dead limb. Fail to drown my woes in black ink and in chlorine water. Curled up into a ball and waiting to implode.
Then suddenly I find myself in someone's kitchen, playing a weird instrument he brought from South America, and as I leave I hear: hey, by the way, I brought this one for you. This might have been the greatest gift ever received; a scissor to cut loose my inner knot, evoke the memories of my journey and to cast that winter's demons into sound and song, just when I needed to.
Those demons have been hidden well and sleeping now for almost two years, but it is high time to release them. They're not scary anymore. .
Cologne/California, January 2011
Thanks to Brian for everything. Despite everything else. And thanks to Stefan for the Bandola, I really don't know what I would've done without it.
In fact I am already back home in the city, and yet the silence of those Californian wastelands doesn't cease to resonate in me. I walk through Germany's dull winter days, still dragging a faint notion of those vivid, flawless skies along, and still pretend to feel the dusty heat as I am wrapped up and my scarf is sparkling with the frozen drips of condensed breath.
And there is more I can't let go of yet.
And days get heavy as the new year rolls in, dark and dull and full of disappointment. I am weak and aching, turn into a ghost of retrospection, tired of dragging on the yearning for a far place and lost love like a dead limb. Fail to drown my woes in black ink and in chlorine water. Curled up into a ball and waiting to implode.
Then suddenly I find myself in someone's kitchen, playing a weird instrument he brought from South America, and as I leave I hear: hey, by the way, I brought this one for you. This might have been the greatest gift ever received; a scissor to cut loose my inner knot, evoke the memories of my journey and to cast that winter's demons into sound and song, just when I needed to.
Those demons have been hidden well and sleeping now for almost two years, but it is high time to release them. They're not scary anymore. .
Cologne/California, January 2011
Thanks to Brian for everything. Despite everything else. And thanks to Stefan for the Bandola, I really don't know what I would've done without it.
download is free, but donations help pay my rent. if you give 5 euros, i will send you an actual postcard from some place I am visiting this month (there are a few..). if you give ten, that postcard will be handdrawn.
Coming up: the next postcard will come to you from a home in Berlin. if you want to make sure to stay up to date you can sign up to my newsletter.. you'll find the subscription form as well as more info about this and other projects on the actual website
these tunes were sawn in fall 2010 in California, then harvested in January in Cologne. Except for 'Blank', which was written and recorded on the spot on a twelve string guitar in the garage of Rick Walker in Santa Cruz. Performed and recorded, mixed and arranged by Julia Kotowski aka. entertainment for the braindead, then released a long long time later as the fourth in a series of audio Postcards in December 2012. Published under Creative Commons License CC BY-NC-SA.
