This is an album I made, with a group of hard-working and committed friends, under the moniker <Herons!>. I put pen to paper 10 years ago, beginning the composition of the songs without any grand scheme or fixed idea of what the result should be. The motivation was simply to create a piece of work that challenged me, and the listener, to do our best. I wanted to make something really human. I think of being human as a challenge: you’ve got all these unusual parts, so, make the most of them. The challenge is figuring out what the hell to do with all these unusual parts. I’m not too good at it. Judging by the state of the world, neither are you.
Since that first ink stain 10 years ago, I’ve lost a lot of friends. Some of them died, some of them stopped calling or writing, and some of them simply keep away. Some of them I’ve had to decide to keep away from. People are full of contradictions. I spent years smoking cigarettes, and there’s nothing better I’d like right now than to light up. But smoking kills you. Why would I want to kill myself?
The older I get, the more I realise that I don’t know diddly-squat. I know about five things in total:
- People are capable of untold cruelty
- People are capable of untold beauty
- If you push people hard enough, they push back
- Sometimes they push one way, sometimes another
The fifth thing I know is more like a suspicion, so I left it off the list. I suspect that there’s some kind of interplay between these above four things, and that a really clever person could work out exactly what it is, like in mathematics. But maybe that would be terrible. Maybe if someone or something knew the ins and outs of those four things, we’d be in even bigger trouble than we already are. I don’t know. And that’s why I don’t believe in God.
I used to believe in God. Now I don’t believe in God. I think to believe in God you have to accept a fifth addition to that list, a kind of certainty (even just a potential certainty) that undermines and deflates the dynamic of the previous four. God, as a notion, is like a black hole that sucks all possibilities into itself. One of the unusual parts of a human is that we can function dynamically, enduring these contradictions and uncertainties and turning them into something else. Like using shit to grow flowers. Or vegetables. Whatever you prefer. Everybody sees something different when they see a pile of shit.
Anyway. This record is free, if you want it to be. You can pay for it, too. Either way, I don’t mind. Its production was made possible by the generosity of strangers, so I’m hoping I can pay that forward. Personally, I mistrust the process by which goods and services (including art, which are just flowery goods and services, and flowers come from shit) are denuded of their use value, for the purpose of applying to them an exchange value. I don’t mind it so much as long as the goods and services remain intact for the people using them, as opposed to the people selling them. With art of any kind, even throwaway pop culture, I think it sparkles a little brighter when it’s a kind of community project. So here’s my little community project. I’m not really selling it. It’s yours.