As you know, I’ve been back in touring motion ever since I returned to my Studio HQ last Thursday afternoon. Oli joined us right away, and besides the intense rehearsals, we’ve been having truly fulfilling conversations together every time the stormy “noises” that collectively lift us up have been consumed for a minute or two. It’s great to dwell into that vivacious atmosphere once again, even though it’s always challenging for me to step into what I call the “furnace of intangibles”.
It’s particularly grueling because, for me, whatever the creative endeavor I’m embarking on (a project, an album, a movie, a book, a tour, or something else), it all comes back to being able to feel the emotional tone of that specific journey. I want to dwell in the “invisible,” rather than simply wait to see what might be cool to share or play. And most of the time, that wandering period is very intense for me… and quite puzzling for the rest of the band.
A friend recently told me I was more like a Francis Bacon type of artist than a Matisse. What?! How so?! Really?! Wait… based on what?! At least, I truly like Francis’ art… Otherwise I’d wonder if it was a positive comparison. It probably has more to do with his tortured psyche than his supposedly questionable hygiene… if that makes any sense at all!
One thing I do know is that I despise repetition, especially artistic replication. Every moment needs to be distinctive… I’m more into old underground theater plays than any Hollywood CGI blockbuster movie. Experience over entertainment. And I’m obsessed with making sure it never becomes too comfortable or secure. For me, it’s never about the how; it’s always about the why. Once I find that, then I’ll mess with the how, to the great “joy” of my sonic accomplices, who are always a bit worried about the moment I’ll join them to officially start rehearsals.
Yes, there are two very distinct rehearsing phases for me, what did you expect? It has to be strange. Francis Bacon, remember?
The initial phase is the band getting into high gear with the extensive list of songs I give them to familiarize themselves with, while I’m scorching myself in the “furnace of intangibles” to get a sense of where it all needs to go. Once I have that, the second phase begins, which is usually the start of a beautiful chaos for everyone involved. Everything the guys have set, arranged, and rehearsed will most likely be pulled apart, disorganized, and deconstructed. Then — and only then — will I start to recreate the whole thing, piece by piece…
The guys are honestly incredibly dedicated and willing to follow my maddening path of creative destruction/reconstruction. They know me well by now, so they understand that it’s not some weird egocentric mantra I’m imposing on them. It’s about digging for the timeless spirit, the “invisible gold”, through the impermanent elements of my own elusive ambitions. That’s what I’m into, that’s the spirit I torment myself with so that my heart and soul can vibrate through it. Makes sense, no?!
For this particular tour, which is short and split into two distinct stretches, things feel even more perplexing, if not mystifying. I think it would be a nightmare to figure out the deeper purpose of it all if it weren’t for the fact that I know exactly where I am in my life… and the wide direction I’m transitioning to. Those two significant factors are intrinsically tied to this “last” touring motion. It’s part of the intimate renaissance I’m in, one that makes every single thing way clearer for me.
Not less confusing, even if I would like to believe it is, but in my case, you perfectly know there’s always a whole lot of confusion involved anyway… I don’t need to pretend. But at least, I have a brighter awareness of the “now” I want to commune with you on each and every occasion I have the extraordinary privilege to gather with you.
So, what does it mean? Good question. It’s the million-dollar question, one that never has much of an answer until about two minutes before I step on any given stage and get to dwell in the live stream that will lift us all up through the noise. But so far, the “furnace of intangibles” has been leading me toward songs I’ve rarely, if ever, played live before. Songs I’ve mostly kept for myself. Ones I feared would lose their deeply personal meaning once they went through my creative destruction/reconstruction process.
That’s why I’ve been so reluctant to play Snowflakes in July, Winter Is Coming In, and The Love That Moves in the past. They’re intimately tied to my late father’s memory. They’re too precious to risk being slashed by the implacable editing chainsaw and the Frankenstein type of reassembling collage of my artistic madness.
It’s part of my inner paradox, I suppose, especially as I’ve known for a while now that letting go of these songs is the last fragment of the past I need to let go of in order to be fully free for what comes next. But I won’t lie, I’m still scared to do it. It’s not about what I might discover… it’s about what I know I have to leave behind. That’s what troubles me.
To incarnate these songs means, in a way, to abandon something I desperately crave: comfort over freedom, meaning over solace, souvenirs over embodiment, melancholia over renewal, contemplative past over an unknown future. It’s a struggle I have to face. I might be delusional, but I’m no fool either... It’s a decision, a leap of faith more than anything else.
That being said, the graceful silver lining in all of this is that, regardless of how difficult it is to face this heart-wrenching passage, I’m certain that I am exactly where I need to be. And this ain’t no insignificant acknowledgement… NOW!
Life creates life.
Your brother and friend,
Alex
PS: the drone video has been taken during the song From the City to the Ocean.
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