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.
The Noble Kind is a three-piece Indie-Rock band based in Rochester, NY. TNK performs at benefit shows to raise money for “Noble” causes in the community. Their latest EP Aeternum was recorded near their home town and has solidified their indie sound.
“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
We’re all born incomplete and aspire for wholeness.
Thrown into this world at breakneck speeds, immediately socialized by our parents and guardians, who we trust as gods with our childish, wonder-filled minds. Once, we all believed our guardians and teachers and elders knew everything and could be trusted completely.
Alas, they were all once chucked into this world too, raised up by previous generations that may have often convinced themselves that they knew what life was all about. But they didn’t. No one did.
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.'”
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.
Almost anything can be a metaphor for songwriting. Prying open a jar of pickles? Yes. Playing Russian Roulette? Sure. Tending to a plant. Why not? If writing songs is inseparable from life itself, then it must fall somewhere between meditating and giving birth, at the equator of zen and utter pain; the middle path between the sacred and mundane.