July 20, 2019
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The album “November” was an honest try at capturing some quiet. Like the sea foam that’s stuck in the dark part in the back of the head. I bought six packs of Camels and a jar of cheap whisky, stuffed the ’99 with every instrument I own and drove the speed limit from Fredericton NB to a steep hill near Picto NS. Someone had put a log cabin 40 acres deep, and the town ran power to it with a few poles and some wire. I had just enough electric to make a record, my cat George to keep me company, and a few ideas.
These days, artists are under a lot of pressure to constantly release new material, musical or otherwise. That’s why I’m taking my time to release a new album, why I felt it was right to revisit this older material first. “November” has a lot of B-Sides, songs that didn’t make the album, but we don’t need B-Sides in today’s culture. What we need is honesty and passion and ownership in music and you can’t cheat time to achieve this. We need unironic folk music, honest country songs, fast and loud rock tunes that don’t make ‘being on the radio’ their bottom line. We need deep rooted revival. Two years after releasing Old Rooms New Light, and having taken all the other Kurtis Eugene albums off the internet I revisited ‘November’, which was written in 2012 through smoke and psychosis. It made me appreciate all the great and supportive people around me now, which is what I was missing in the middle of the woods. I could call 2012 the year in the middle of the bush, which is a great place to be, if you could just clear some of that salt-green sea foam from the dark part in the back of your head.
There is a lot of music that needs to be released again with intention. Intention isn’t 99 cents, it’s a lifetime of growth though song, humility in great ideas, being proud of art, authenticity in G major chords played for 8 solid minutes. November was remastered with new perspective and I hope it can mean something new to the people who knew me then. These days when I find myself in thick trees I can look up, or close my eyes, or fall asleep.
Thank you to The East for writing an article to support this work! Find the article here.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
To, Tour, Together, Talking, Taking turns turning radio stations cherry trees and waterfalls and blue and later in April than you thought and I bought some tulips and planted them in the public gardens and bonding and brothers and sisters and the storm is below the mist and waking and wondering and words from Italian to English to poems to words to words behind violin to scared of the dark to sleeping in light to dreaming of robes with men under heavens with that one instrument with friends behind bars of music of NOT MOZART of Seahaven or someplace I’ve not heard of or music to words to sounds like this dog to coffee for children on couches where the screaming matches last four in the dark and two in the light and prayer and wish and energy to last not longer than quarters to kinds in candy shops in small town Ontario by cities and trucks and crosswalks – too fast – and temptation and give in and not the truth but I cant get those words back though there’s forgiveness and nose rings and Italy and fresh water and balconies and rows of white pollen seen from inside and cooking for 300 but she’s #301 and dancing alone or dancing inside or driving slow or driving fast or planting or finding or planting and leaving or planting and watching or going to find and receiving and hearing and over and over and once more a noise or a silent nod from a strange man all in the key of not “A” but the one down two and also add the pinky
Why not give me roses? Why not give me roses? instead of these clouds
I don’t feel like i do anything I don’t feel like i can do everything So why try?
Woe is me So easy to be Woe is me Too easy to be so blind and free To do with nothing
It’s harder To pull the curtains and look outside Than it is to figure out what’s wrong with our God
Hate me Write a book and hate me Take out your hands and hit me Write these words, sedate and place me in the sky
Roses Why not give me roses? Why not give me roses? Instead of these clouds
One time It feels like it just takes one time The old “hold my hands and jump” line The alters in our way
Children Why’d you take the children? Why’d you take my children?
lively sweet lush remembers garden tomatoes dyed skin red carpet pouncing church cats
sound is always now and every after beauty still and life sounding hanging strung gauitr
sitting sifting stones this sunny afterwards we dark green our eyes listen and salt water
a prayer and gold are hopes good luck a charmed woman swept him off his feet then