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:
This is an account of ‘Pink Mirror’, the second album by UK singer-songwriter Jeremy Tuplin, by myself, Jeremy Tuplin. I don’t intend to provide any absolute or dictatorial interpretation of the songs on the album, or the record as a whole, as I would never want to do that, but I’m happy to shed some light on the thought processes and ideas that led to them, and it, having kindly been asked to by mySoundposter.
“Greg Connors is back with the release of is his new EP Holographic Static Proportion; it’s rough around the edges, jarring at times, (occasionally even skull-rattling). This album has all the earmarks Connors has become known for, brutally capricious lyrics and a quick dark wit. As a writer, he continues to mine the rubble of human relationships for nuggets of understanding and tenderness amongst the fury and confusion. A versatile storyteller, Connors will draw you in, hit you hard where it hurts and probably give you a good laugh as well.
Where were you when that tree fell in the forest? Check out Holographic Static Proportion and see what you hear…” -Catherine Swan
To begin, the album took about a year to finish, from writing to final production. Ultimately, I think it describes a period of thawing out from a pretty deep depression. The loss of several family members, a big move from Illinois to Oregon to live closer to my sisters after graduating from college to begin processing a lot of dark stuff that was hanging over me. So this album was a product of that time, of coping, thawing and trying to navigate my way back to somewhere that would hopefully be a lot healthier.
Kind of like how meditating gives us a focused space for our peaceful energy to flourish, having a vlog has helped me to take my connection with my listeners to essentially a sacred space.
I often think deeply about the whole picture and how can I as an artist create safe spaces during quality entertainment experiences. I want to give people a window into my songwriting process and other aspects of me being because we are all creating this world together. I get inspired often by intense things clouded by introverted struggles with no release but music. And I didn’t want just those intense songs to be all I gave the world. Perhaps a good analogy is that not cleaning for weeks results in a big beautiful cleaning. And weekly songwriting is like weekly maintenance cleaning.
“Play Your Song” is a song I had written about my experiences with Girls/Ladies Rock Camp… or so I thought… It’s rare when I write about something other than my own self-evolution. Funny thing tho: even when you think you’re talking to someone else, you’re truly just talking to yourself. Everyone and everything in your “reality” is a fucking carnival fun-house mirror.
Pretty early on in life, we both figured out that it was okay to challenge the rules. It seemed that people loved to tell us HOW the world worked, but nobody knew WHY it worked the way it did. Why did we have to wear dresses and have pink things?
Recently I had the opportunity to interview Greg Connors about his new single “Future Nostalgia.” As I was listening, I was so drawn into the track, which prompted further listening to Connors’ vast cannon of eclectic material. I found his songs speak to me in a familiar voice, both vulnerable and comfortable. His melodic, yet ‘cut the crap’, self-styled phrasing dances with a deliberately off-kilter, sweetly angular guitar motion.
Back in the late ’80s, my parents started up a rainforest conservation project in Cameroon. They had their adventures getting there, having driven the whole way with all their gear in a Landrover. They almost got lost in the Sahara desert and crossed Chad, which at the time was in the midst of a civil war.
Their project was based in a remote village called Oku, in the north-west province of Cameroon. It revolved around working with local people to protect a remaining island of rainforest on Mt Oku, home of the Oku tribe.