Fittingly, this albums and the songs were written and published in what would, at the time, unknowingly be my final days in the tranquil yet tainted paradise of the Big Cypress Swamp.
In a departure from my first two albums, these songs evoke a sense of a place that is neither here nor there, but rather everywhere — and inescapable.
Or was I in the midst of a major escape act?
All is revealed in the final song.
As for my fourth act (i.e. album)?
Making three albums was a major milestone. To me, with its release, I’d made it, much like Nick Drake. Or is that a curse? After all, the third was also his last. Thus begging the question: After over a year without playing a song, will there be a fourth?
My guess on that is that you never know and I wouldn’t rule anything out.
Remember the Rule of the Ninja: Never fear, never doubt, and never over think.
This is a test. Repeat. This is a test to see how the font looks and if I can cut and paste it over to WordPress in a way that retains the same formatting. Or if that doesn’t work, to at least see what format is being used in Substack so that I can replicate it in WordPress.
The truth of the matter is that I wish I could just use Substack. The problem is it lacks the organizational control that the concept I am working on requires. The other option would be to replicate the Substack writing experience in WordPress.
Again, this is just a test and we will see.
I don’t know much, but I’m inclined to spill whatever I do out at the campfire
After an intense and prolonged period of songwriting – often deep in nature, in areas that have yet to be mapped, and sometimes but not always by a campfire – I am finally nearing completion of my second studio album. It’s theme? Much like my first album New Pangaea it strikes deep in the heart of what the Before Phones Movement (BPM) is all about.
Unlike New Pangaea, my second album takes on thornier topics that many other songwriters would shun due to their complexity and controversial nature. For example, with The Lusitania, I believe I official and forever knock the Titanic (including the movie, and quite possibly the soundtrack – although I’d love to collaborate with Celine Dion) off the top spot and elevate the sinking of the Lusitania as the most tragic and memorable maritime disaster of the past 200 years. Why? Because it’s also an antiwar protest song. Even more subtly, another song on the album – Old Jim Dill – recounts the personal devastation wrought by the Great War, also know as the War To End All Wars, or just WWI and how he, at least partly, overcame it by finding comfort in a nature retreat.
But I digress …
Tentatively, in our studio sessions, we’ve been referring to the album as simply “The Green Album,” although that may yet change. Other names being batted around include Preserved, The Blue Album (long story), Green on Green, and To All My Fans, With Love, Bobby Angel.
People often ask me: “Bobby Angel, what’s your favorite thing about your second album?” My answer is always and unequivocally the same:
Performing the songs to connect their meaning to others. And also, I must admit. I’m kind of itching to do a third album. So it feels good have the second one done, or almost done. As much as I’m an “ad hoc go with the flow” type of guy, I’m equal parts a finisher, too. That’s my secret to songwriting. Get it done and then move on. The longer a song sits the more it starts to lose its original intent. Songs in their truest form capture a moment and just flow.
Bobby Angel
A “moment catcher” is what a good song is.
At least that’s my theory (for now).
Well howdy folks, and I’m completely freaked out. And you know why. The fringe middle. The silent majority. Why are they so quiet?
For one, everything closed down. Stores weren’t open and the television shows were bad. By bad I mean they weren’t Saturday morning cartoons. In sum, the world shut down on Sunday.
Compare that to today when Sunday is pretty much just another day. Or so it seems. Yes, you can’t reach any number of business or government entities over the phone — but more or less its not all that different than the other days. Not to mention that the screen viewing options are limitless every day of the week or any time of the day.
Thinking back …
I’m wondering now if Sunday’s were so boring because of this: church. Between the hour it took to get ready and get everyone in the car, plus add the frequent occasions where, not being able to do that (on time) we slipped from the 10 o’clock mass to the 11:30 (or even the 1 pm on very lethargic days), then factor in the plus one hour service followed by the drive home: not only was the service a real snoozer, by the time we arrived back home the day was pretty much done.
Moral of story: As much as I loathed going to church growing up, today I attribute it my high tolerance of boredom to my ability to think deep. Thank you boring Sundays, I’ll always have a fond spot for you in my heart.
Who knew: Sunday is the busiest day of the week for internet use.
The campfire is always crackling and visitors are always welcome at Campfire Park
In his debut album, Bobby Angel brings it with a cascade of farewell songs, one after the other and ten in all, each one followed by an exclusive interview about the song as only a singer/songwriter folk star could do.
And don’t miss out on the cryptic epilogue at the end.
Music aficionados beware:
This album runs on for over 4 hours. But who said the Before Phones Movement (BPM) would ever be served up in 15-second clips?
Try not to overthink a song. Go with what pops in your head, run with it, and don’t stop until you cross the finish line.
The truth is the phone is always with us, either in our pocket or in our hand and always (or too often) in our mind. The expectation of our availability to the phone and the phones availability to us is beyond anything we could have ever contemplated, say, prior to 1999.
The result?
I feel like the phone controls me now more than my wrist watch. Texts, emails and calls require, if not immediate responses — they infiltrate into your mind and erase your entry into deeper more groundbreaking thoughts.
Perhaps my greatest regret in life is that I didn’t find an avocation (and skillset) that required me to work with my hands. As much as I depend on my phone, I’d like to depend on my hands more and just put the phone down.
Medical diagnosis: Using a phone for hours on end can lead to conditions such as a repetitive stress injury known as stenosing tenosynovitis or trigger thumb.
It’s a new dawn with Candidate Burt Silver, but only because he stayed up all night to see it
What attracted me to it was a couple of things. First were the topics. Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, the Holy Grail … what was not to like. They fired my imagination as a kid as much as I look back on them and laugh a little today. There was also the documentary style. For the times, it blended truth with fiction and speculation and a willingness to believe that the world held secrets that, if only we searched harder, we might yet find. Or maybe it was they mystery most of all. How the legend was born, why it lived on, and what the future might hold. Other reasons I liked the show? There was the opening music, Leonard Nemoy’s trusted voice, and how it presented just enough to leave you wanting to explore more. No, I’ve never seen Bigfoot, but during my visit to Northern California, I wasn’t so much looking for the creature as I was thinking about the show.
Which brings me to a new idea if the the series ever gets renewed: I would like to introduce the concept of the Lost Art of Letter Writing as a topic worthy of being told. Does anybody remember the halcyon days of writing handwritten notes to family and friends? It was a completely organic and original form of communication that we unwittingly left behind. Why? Email was touted as being the technology that would take letter writing to the next level. Thirty years later, I’m not convinced that email wasn’t the death knell for the golden age of the epistle.
And by epistle, I mean the real handwritten thing. Not the typed version that ends up unread and unanswered in an email box. Okay, I’ll admit – I’m probably sounding like a Luddite. But can we all just agree to give good old fashioned letter writing another chance?
Factoid: László Bíró invented the first ballpoint pen in 1938. His invention coupled ink-viscosity with a ball-socket mechanism which acted compatibly to prevent ink from drying inside the reservoir while allowing controlled flow.
