There were a few years there–the late 60’s and early 70’s–when underground FM radio thrived in Chicago. FM was new then, not yet corporate, and it offered, on weak frequencies, some very eclectic and adventurous broadcasting. I’d stay up late at night and record from the radio—musicians I’d never heard, but who fascinated me: Sibelius, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Skip James, Ornette Coleman, Doc Boggs. The tapes had no genre boundaries or even taste parameters, really–half the time I didn’t even know if I exactly liked the stuff I was recording. I didn’t yet have enough musical context to fully appreciate it. But I craved the soundscapes the tapes created. Avant garde and folk musics seemed much the same to me. It was all musical texture—fresh and new, especially the stuff that was old.
I can always pinpoint the moment when an art form grabs me. Whether it has been music, film, or literature, I have always had that clear, definitive moment that made me fall in love. My love for each of these art forms came together when I created Bleakhaus.
I have yet to come across any profession that is as rewarding, fulfilling, and promising as well as depressing & anxiety-inducing as being a musician. It’s peaks & valleys to it, but there’s more beauty in it than most people will ever know.
“Nature Poetry” (the album!) is the striking byproduct of the dance performance “Nature Poetry” by Križaj / Wehrli / Gisler. With inexhaustible eager, the choreographers Jasmina and Simon, and the musician Daniel jump into the bushes and transform their naiveté into a virtue. To be listened with closed eyes or while traveling alone – and one or two songs can even boost your party!
Driving (in the) snow from Kempten. I was supposed to put saucers and blondes together, but the reversable rider of Skye said „NO!”, and off he went on a rollercoaster ride of thrift shop guitars, carrying the torch for Lady Biba. The 4 A.M. Lamp kept burning, and sociopaths were rescued from their shady caves, turned into rainbows and oh! Butterflies „above the nation”. That was the dream of the Woodstock generation, now wasn’t it?
Through many gigs and other sessions, I got to know some of the local performers in the Kimberley. I started to play and record with them, sold CDs to tourists and split the cash. We also made up a pretend recording company.
For some years now, this material has remained stored on hard drives in my wardrobe. Lately, however, my son has patiently skilled me up in the use of websites such as Patreon and Bandcamp. With his encouragement and the support of friends and family, I have now begun posting some of the best elements of this collection of recordings online.
It was the summer of 2016 (going into my junior year of high school) when I had switched from Fort Lauderdale High School to South Broward. I was in a cover band at the time with some kids I’d known from earlier on in my childhood, but I never felt too close with them.
I always wanted to be in a band where I was playing with genuine friends and making meaningful music with help from all parties. So I went searching (with the idea of finally writing music, while making friends) in my new school’s band program, I joined the jazz band on guitar and piano, while also joining marching band and regular band on the tuba. Right off the bat, I met two kids that I liked and wanted to start a group with.
I grew up listening to a lot of alternative rock music — a good handful of hip-hop but nothing in-depth. Most of my musical influence came from Nine Inch Nails and the “industrial uprising.” My parents met at a Ministry concert at the first actual venue I ended up playing at, in the closest city’s bar scene. My dad got me into every good popular metal, hardcore, punk, rock band I can think to listen to today, besides newer bands of this generation.