This Portland, Oregon songwriter finds that he needs to regroup often, to collect himself because there's no stability to be found. He finds himself crawling, when he's normally used to walking. His songs feel like a blend of Sondre Lerche's sweet melodies and tunefulness and the eccentricities of David Longstreth and the Dirty Projectors. It's glazed with brilliantly heated moments, when the alarms and whistles are blaring, before settling back down again, to wade through what just happened, what set it all off. He kinda knows it could have been anything and all that means is that there's no preventing it the next time, just like there was no way to prevent it this last time. He sings of the crapshoot - of his contributions and those of others. He sings, "I know I'm a liar cause I feel it all," as if there are no greater bullshit detectors than the feelers, those who can't seem to find the means to ends, just a little more feeling, just a little more irking of the dining tiger.
*Essay originally published July, 2012