When you cue up a song titled “Highway 1”, you probably anticipate a great driving song. Greg Connors delivers with his new single, which if you let it, will take you on a journey to both your own bitter end and recreation.
“Highway 1” manages to relentlessly unbalance and rebalance its discord and flow. The lyrics have that signature Connors flair, the mercurial duplicity and winking turns of phrase. —
I know I’m supposed to promote myself, but before I do that, let me break down why my latest project is bigger than me.
So. I am born, raised, and artistically based in Queens, New York City, USA. The borough of Queens as a standalone city would be the single most diverse place in the world; something like 200 languages are spoken here. In high school, I knew this girl who spoke English, Spanish, and a specific dialect of her family’s motherland (I forget which specific country it was – sorry mija). And it gets way more diverse than that around here.
My second album is somewhat of a time capsule. These are the songs I wrote between realizing I needed to get better and doing something about it.
My alcoholism and dependence on other addictive behaviors (weed, sex, etc.) had progressed to a point where they had begun destroying every semblance of a good life I’d managed to build despite them. To preserve any chance I had at living well, I needed to change the way I spent each and every moment of my time. In order to honestly document these in musical form, I stripped away every instrument other than my voice, guitar, laptop, and tape recorder.
If there is anything for you in these songs, you will most likely find it outside of what I have to say about them. All I really have to say is thank you so, so much for listening. So much.
That said, in case it might inform your listening, here’s what I have to say:
The different settings for my latest album, Desert Cities – Part One, span from Denver to Seoul. Track three, Brooklyn, is a love song for the gritty and enigmatic Bushwick neighborhood and track four, Coming Home, rides the metro north to Midtown where home is not a place but a person (and a lovely oasis at that). Track two, Lost in Seoul, reflects on the foreign shores of South Korea, “the crowded streets, the angry East Sea, don’t mind if I belong here for a while.”
Only track one, Hold out Thirst, mentions a dry, barren, lifeless, sandy desert. Its brief and stark first refrain, “I went to the desert and held out my thirst,” captured something much bigger in me when I first listened back to the completed album. The desert, in this case, is where one goes to reflect deeply, to test themselves against the elements, physically and emotionally and to experience thirst as a fundamental sensation of life, to feel acutely alive. The remainder of the album (part two included, TBR Fall 2019) is born of this same desire.
My name is Charley Young. I’m an indie synthpop artist based in NYC. I was born in San Diego, California, and grew up on the Gulf Coast of Florida. I’ve always loved music and always knew I wanted to be a singer, but it took me a while to become confident enough to pursue my dreams. About five years ago, I decided it was time to stop being scared and go for it – Whether or not the timing was good, whether or not I was “ready.”
Day & Dream is a husband-wife team, Peter Frizzante, the morning person, and Abby Amaya, the night owl – our band name is a nod to our opposite sleep schedules. We are often writing music or lyrics at home in between work and daily chores, finding inspiration in personal relationships, nature, and risk-taking.
In the beginning, a rock appeared in the firmament, and on that rock a fissure did form. An old man with youthful eyes looked upon this rock and said, “I shall call you ‘Shredrock.'” And upon receiving the reverberations of his utterance, the rock burst forth a great explosion, showering the old man with mystical properties, endowing him with the wisdom of old age and the vigor of youth. And when the phenomenon did cease, the rock told the man, “I shall call you ‘Grampfather.'”