Apart from being behind the band SoundFields, I (Robert Fields) am the main character in a screenplay about someone who started thinking back in 2007 that he is the one John Lennon wrote his song, Doctor Robert, about.
You might wonder how someone comes up with such a thought. One reason is that I was already around when the song Doctor Robert has been written. The Beatles’ songs filled the room where I lived when I was just a little child; when something dramatic happened: I nearly died.
The album A Beard Of Stars from Ataraus Minor was recorded accidentally on purpose when I bought my first bass guitar and wanted to practice to some T. Rex songs. I started recording, and a week later, the album was finished. I played and recorded everything you’ll hear. The words and music are, of course, by Marc Bolan.
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.
In the wake of trauma, and especially abuse, there is often a bottoming out of the self: it can feel like everything you were has been hollowed out and replaced by this terrible event. When I started to heal, I began writing songs.
In the first grade, I carried history books around like spell books. There was this magic about language that I felt compelled to keep close, like it had secret powers that I didn’t have access to yet. Clinging to an impressive-looking pile of books every day at school was also how I prevented my classmates from realizing I couldn’t read.
I began with a classical training from age eight on violins made by my grandfather, from a half size to three quarter, then to his “number 2” with a finessed fiddleback grain in high glaze. His Luthier’s hands I remember as large and gnarly as they would trace the creases of my palm to elucidate future prospects. After ten years of scales and arpeggios working my way through graded texts filled with compositions by the gifted and deceased, a final concert in the embers of 1990 marked the occasion of my last musical performance on stage, aside from dreams.
Barely 12 months passed before my own strange sounds were committed to cassette tape for the first time, born of a natural necessity to do, and it was this background of prescribed exam pieces that gave me something to react against.
Moonshine Effect travel through the night in a psychedelic mood, humming dream pop melodies. They enjoy riding into pink moons on dancing horses and whispering folk sounds in the cool early morning breeze. They insist on watching the constellations of trembling blue stars, gently screaming their poetry till it touches the sky.
Weston Smith, which is my actual name, is a Solo Synth Pop project I started in early 2016 as a way for me to cope through my mental illnesses. For years I had been battling with enormous waves of anxiety and depression, I had gone through multiple treatments to balance my life with various medications, but there wasn’t really any success with said attempts.