Here’s my favorite band, Gabriel Sullivan and the Taraf de Tucson, playing live at the Bordello Bar in Los Angeles, California. That’s me on violin …
More is up there. Just search “taraf de tucson.”
Just before the accident I felt something break. The wheel spun away. I came to in a lake. The sky did not look right to me, the moon was upside down. Schools of shiny fish played hide-and-seek in the clouds. The water was cold, and I started to tremble. I hadn’t felt so lonesome in as long as I remember.
Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.
I remember feeling like my life had been worthless. I dimly saw your pretty face above the shimmering surface. Were you crying? Girl, I’m sorry. You know I couldn’t stop. Add it to the list of all the virtuous things I’m not. Bye bye bye, it’s my turn to cry. I’ll never get a chance to set this right before I die.
Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.
Glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, glug, all the way down.
I sank quickly to the bottom of the watery sky. The mud sucked me under and I thought I had died. The fishes swam away, and I bounced off the wall. Sprawled out flat on my face, passed out cold in the hall. Did you carry me to bed? I didn’t mean to put you through it. The water wasn’t water it was whiskey and I knew it.
Let go — it’s okay. Heavy heart, Moonlight Lake. Let go — it’s okay. I forgive you.
About eight years ago I wrote some music for double string quartet and contrabass. It was a suite of songs inspired by characters and settings from the novels of James Ellroy. The concert never happened, due to an injury suffered by one of the violinists.
At some point, Ellroy himself was speaking in Houston, and I went there with the manuscript score, and he autographed it with an enormous cursive “J,” infusing it with tremendous joo-joo.
About three months ago I found the manuscript in a box of other music in my house. Wheels started turning with a tremendous grinding sound.
Finally, last weekend, Crime Scenes was performed, among many other works, at the inaugural performance of the ChamberLab series.
Enjoy!
The majesty of Bajo Turbato has finally been captured on video, and was augmented at the time by our friends in the Tucson Casual Social Club.
That’s Connor Gallaher, Will Elliot and Clay Coweek on guitars, and Andrew Collberg on drums.
Jami Attenberg asked me to write music inspired by her forthcoming novel The Melting Season, and this is it.
It’s a beautiful story, and features love gone away, a long drive, and a lot of shame, all themes near and dear to my heart.
Jami Attenberg can be found here, and you can pre-order The Melting Season, set for release on January 21st, right here.
…
The Words:
I am afraid of what’s inside of me. Something awful. Something weak. Some kind of hurt is hidden away, and I feel nothing, and I am afraid of what’s inside of you. Something desperate, greedy and small. You’re never finished, you’re never okay. You’re never happy. And I am afraid.
Is this the end? Is this the last? You can smell it like rain. Where has our love gone? Where is my friend? Who will save us now? This is the end. The end of childhood, the end of knowing, the end of our dreams. We had such riches, but it’s all been spent, and there’s nothing left to leave. This is the end.
Hate me, I took everything. Forgive me, I took nothing. Will you miss me when I’m gone, like I missed you before? Before we went wrong? Like I missed you before we went wrong.
You’re long gone. When did you go? Was it your father? Was it the money? Was it my emptiness all along? Nobody’s perfect and I’m long gone, driving for days, snow-blind and tired. Don’t try to find me — I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve done nothing right. Nothing at all.
Say goodbye to nothing at all.