Fireside Tales
My first album, recorded in late 2020 and released on Christmas Eve of the same year.
Fireside Tales was largely born from the idea to finally sit down and record a few of the songs I've written. I tend to write a lot of songs - or at least sketch them out with words - but very few actually make it past the writing stage. I had started to write "A Summer's Tale" about two years ago by then, and the tone and feel of that first concept had stuck with me. I took a bunch of my largely unfinished songs that somehow resonated with the idea of a "Fireside Tale" and I mashed them together to scrape together a few "good" songs that I would then record.
Because I didn't know any better, I would write these songs on guitar and piano, marking down chords and the likes in my notebook. I started "rehearsing" them, trying to find ways to play each song that felt fun and interesting. At that point, I really should have started recording some basic demos of these songs so I could remember what I had come up with later on, but alas, I was still scared of that part. After nearly two months of writing, compiling and playing around, I had managed to assemble 6 songs that felt interesting and worth recording.
What followed was my first real encounter with recording music. I had played around with recording software, microphones and the works before, but it never really clicked with me, until then. I had set myself an arbitrary deadline for the 24th of December, in a way to let this album be a kind of birthday present. With this set date looming over me, progress was surprisingly swift. Once I had figured the basic routines for recording things, how to set up my equipment and how to use it to good effect; most of the songs were recorded within half a month. I was left with 7 songs that really "belonged" on this album (I split "A Summer's Tale" in two parts while recording), and two tracks that just kind of happened to appear alongside the main project.
After the recording process - which was heaps of fun - followed the editing/mixing stage. Again, I was starting completely from scratch, having to figure out how to use the myriad of tools that were at my disposal. This process took a lot longer than the actual recording. After two or three weeks of experimenting around, I found some setups that produced good results. After about a month of agonizing over these songs, I finally called them done, bounced them out, and was happy with the results.
Between writing the final songs, recording and then mixing them, the Fireside Tales project had occupied my mind for 4 months at least. It didn't feel right to just take these 7+2 songs, lob them on an unmarked CD and call it a finished product. I was playing around with ink pen drawing for some time by then, so I took up the challenge to make my own art for the album. A long night and a delirious morning later, the line art for the cover art was complete. Add a few more days for colouring, getting the text on there, coming up with a background and some finishing touches, and I managed to wrap the album + art up about a week before the 24th.
This song was probably one of the very last that was written, and it was written largely from scratch, assembling a few lines from various lyrical corpses and hinting at a worldbuilding project that I had started and abandoned ("'bout distant lands, and ancient folks, and ships with painted sails"). It's meant to get you comfortable with the idea of the album, allow you to get settled at the imaginary campfire in expectation for the few stories I have to tell.
Now gather 'round
My dear old friends
And hearken to my tales
'bout distant lands
And ancient folks
And ships with painted sails
See smoke curl up
And water crash
Upon rocks aeons old
And sit around
The fire warm
'Til all stories are told
These songs that I sing ye
Tell of places far away
Of countries long forgotten
And of nations gone astray
The legends I recount here
Happened very long ago
When rivers were still young
And the night sky would still glow
When twilight falls
Fear not the dark
And heed no nightly sounds
The sun will rise
It brings the warmth
To our sacred grounds
When clouds foretell
Of rains to fall
Of East winds loud and fell
Then listen well
And pay good heed
To what they have to tell
So pass the bottle round, friends
And drink the amber wine
Dance around the fire
On fruits and meat we'll dine
And should the flames die out
Reduced to embers red
Then say your nightly farewell
And retire to your bed
And in your dreams return to
The lands of which I sang
See old, forgotten places
In which once laughter sprang
Travel up and down the lands
Until you see the fuming sea
And keep my Fireside Tales
Ever in your memory
The first half of the track that spawned this project in the first place. Summer is a great time, it's warm, you want to be outside, and this song starts off with that. I find Summer Nights especially to be perfect for intro- and retrospective. This is taking place in the second half: As night falls and the sunlight starts fading, you find yourself returning to the cozy homeliness of a familiar surrounding. Finally you settle down with your family and/or friends, to spend the night in happy company.
Let's start our tale in an endless field of stunning green
Where the drift of waving grass would fill your view for as far as you could see
Eyes to the sky, a flock of birds, up against the blue and white
Clouds, they pass along the heavens, flying ever steadily towards their unknown
Home, a small old house, all made of wood, it stands alone
With two windows, and a door, a fenced-in garden, a red roof and a chimney that puffs out
Smoke, it rises up to greet the birds as they rush on past, the Sun is setting now
Two streams of light
Out through the windows
They split the night
They shine a glistening "Welcome!"
Open door
Come on inside
You bathe in the warm gleam of the oven's fire as you step in a room filled with song and laughs and life
Go take a seat
Tell us what you've been up to
The smell of food
The crackling flames
Familiar voices
A smiling face
And that shimmer in their eyes screaming "you're gonna be okay!"
An imaginary bit of folklore that tell the story of the fabled "Three Trees", that all fall prey to the people that lived in those parts before.
The First Tree is cut down by a greedy lumberjack who had planned to sell the great trunk for a hefty sum. When he had finally managed to fell the tree, a ravine went adrift high on the slope of the mountain that the tree had grown on. The ravine covered the slope in a sea of ice and snow and finally uprooted the stump, which caused the fragile rock underneath to crack and slip, forming a ravine that caught the lumberjack just as he was trying to retrieve the trunk.
The Second Tree fell victim to a band of huntsmen who were out camping. They decided to start a fire for themselves during the night, and cut down the tree to keep their weak flame going. Their evening at the campfire evolved to drinking bout, culminating in a loud drunken stupor that upset many of the animals that called the surrounding forest their home. When one of the huntsmen tried to jump across the bonfire, one of the smoulering roots of the tree caught him by the foot and he got singed and his clothes started burning. In an attempt to save him, the other huntsmen ripped off his clothes and threw them heedlessly away. The burning garments landed in some dry bushes, which went up in flame and finally caused the entire forest to burn down. Many of the wood's inhabitants and the huntsmen perished in the fire.
The Third Tree was felled by a crew of seafaring men from far away. They had to land on the nearby coast because their mast had broken down during the storm. The large tree, to them, seemed to be the perfect replacement. As they cut the tree down, its leaves started rustling so heavily, that a great wind came up, which took the sailors off their feet and blew their ship out to the ocean, even without a sail. By this time, the wind had also carried the ashes from the forest fire to the ocean which muddied and poisoned the waters, and the great rift which was caused by the First Tree's murder had found its way down to the coast. All the ocean was drained by the rift, and nothing was left behind but a scar in the ground. Many years later, three young saplings started growing on that spot, until men came and took two of them away, planting one on the mountain slope and another in the young forest which had started to grow again...
When the First Tree fell
The mountains all broke out in tears
And they washed down the slopes
Forming an ocean fierce
The branches all snapped when
The great trunk smote the ground
And the fragments were scattered
So that they never be found
And when the tree was uprooted
A great ravine opened up
It swallowed the killer
Who down the tree had cut
When the Second Tree fell
A great fire broke out
And it burned all the animals
Their cries were heard clear and loud
The night sky was blazing
As the flames danced around
All the beasts tried to flee, but
They were all hunted down
The embers were flying
Setting all things alight
And so nothing escaped them
Until the last one died
When the Third Tree fell
The gold leaves conjured up a storm
Which blew all things away
Until no thing remained
The wind carried the ashes
Far out into the sea
All the waters turned grey
Poison no one could heal
And then the ravine swallowed the ocean
It closed up as if nothing had been
And later on that same spot were growing
Three young saplings green
This is a short, non-sensical song about a figure called "Old Man Kraken", because of his eight heads, for which he had eight different hats. Old Man Kraken was travelling the region with his circus troupe, which featured other extraordinary characters, such as the boy who could paint music and the laughing donkey.
There once was an old man
Who had eight old hats
And he'd wear them together
Having one for each head
He would go to the city
With a bowl full of soup
Where'd he'd search for his one love
To take back to his troupe
In his troupe was a young boy
Who could see music sweet
And with him he'd travel
To paint the mockingbird's bleat
There was also a donkey
With a grin, bright as day
And it would laugh at the paintings
While slowly munching its hay
A song about a boy who go so angry that wished all the buildings of the village he so hated would disappear alongside their inhabitants. An ancient magical tree overheard him and commanded the houses and mansions of the settlement to rise up from their earthen shackles and march into the ocean, never to be seen again.
Beneath an old gnarly maple tree
That on the mountainside stands
Sat a lonesome young boy of ten years
Bloody-nosed and cuts on his hands
And he looked down into the valley
At the town sprawled out at his feet
And he cursed all that lived there, saying:
"May the Ocean set these buildings free!"
At this the old tree came to life
And the leaves rustled like in a storm
As she reared her head, raised her voice and called out
The shout echoed throughout the valley
And it rolled down the grassy slopes
The birds all cried in response and took to the skies
And a great tremor then shook the Earth
As the foundations all were undone
And the houses rose out of the ground and started to dance
The lampposts all trembled as the great procession marched through the streets
And the picket fences snuck off to the orchard to play hide and seek
The mill tumbled down doing cartwheels after every step
While the well coughed up all of its water, turning all the grounds wet
And one by one
All the buildings fell in line
And they raised a great shout
Remembered for all time:
"We shall go, we shall go, do not wait for our return!"
"The Great Ocean has called, that its waves may churn!"
"Us to dust!"
All joyful get-togethers must come to an end eventually, especially when the hearth finally settles down to rest in glowing bliss. As you unsuccessfully attempt to stoke the flames to life again, a sudden gust sends some of the dying embers flying through the quiet room. The dance of the sparks reminds you of a swarm of birds that you saw just some days ago, flying just above the tree tops in the hills. In a fit of excitement you find yourself running back to that spot, flapping your arms as you go. At last, your feet leave the ground and you rise up to the birds, soaring through the morning sky, where you find a nice cozy cushion for yourself to go sleep in. Then you awake from your dream.
And that shimmer in their eyes screaming "you're gonna be okay!"
No more talk
Empty Room
The illusion fades
Time has moved on
The dust has settled
Fire's gone out
Only ash remains
You stir the hearth
And the sudden flight of the sparks
Takes you back to that day in the fields
Near the house and you run
Out the door and down the lawn
Across the stream and on and on
Further on, up on the hill
Don't let your feet grow still
Flap your arms, take off and fly
Past the treetops standing high
And then at last land fair and proud
In soft white cushions of a cloud
Free At Last/Parting Words
Legend has it, that there is a lonely ivory tower standing on a black, jagged cliff near the edge of the world. Trapped inside the tower are all our dearest wishes, hopes and dreams, sentenced to be caught there forever and only very occasionally seeing the light of day. One day, however, a brave adventurer finds her way to the tower and manages to break down the gate, setting all the fragments free from their jail. As the many hopes, dreams, desires and wishes escape the ruined tower at a break-neck speed, the adventurer's quest to get a hold of these treasures has just begun. Encouraged by the initial success, she sets out on her quest.
Breathe in, breathe out
Take in your surroundings
Break free, get up
As their smiles start to crack
Breathe out, breathe in
Cut your losses
Find a way out
Run, don't look back
You
Were never meant to brave this storm alone
So please forgive us for not
Helping you out sooner
And now the damage is done
And now the damage is done
Oh, now the damage is done
Ivory tower
Up on that hill
Gaping windows
Make sure to keep still
Forced wide open
And torn apart
Remnants of your soul
Escaping from your heart
We
Never meant to leave you behind
So please forgive us for not
Hanging around
'til you were all out of time
Were all out of time
Yeah, now you're all out of time
My heart whispers to you
Words that I cannot say,
Wonder if my soul would
Tell you some fateful day.
Long after I am dead
Buried and ground to dust,
Heavens will this message
Reach your heart if it must.
Head Full Of Shit (Cover)
A cover of
Radical Face's "Head Full Of Shit". The words and general attitude of the song resonated fairly heavily with me while I was recording this album, so I made a small little cover of it for fun. You can find the original here:
YouTube
This is a song that I had written for an imaginary character of mine that I played in a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, for a short time. This sounds stupid and nerdy on paper, and it probably is, but I quite liked the idea I had for the character, so I turned it into a song.
On a road near Meadhollow lies a crooked, hooded shape
It slinks along slowly, just as night follows day
And the last fading sunbeams lead this pilgrim astray
Into thickets and thorns to sleep hidden away
With a grin on its face and a tear in its eyes
The odd creature awakes to journey under clear skies
It meets other wayfarers by jumping right off the road
Into brambles and thistles, greeting fox, finch and toad
Little Blue Devil with your tail held up high
With bright sparkling grey eyes and a maw that'll bite
With claws sharp like razors and a cloak made to fit
May you hop along proudly without bridle nor bit
Poor, little Meepo, let the chaos rain down
From the top of the mountains to the caves far below
May your days all be joyful and the dark not prevail
May your dreams all be happy and your courage not fail
Pillars of smoke climbing up to the sky
At the foot of the hill Meadhollow now lieas
And young little Meepo at the end of this road
Ventures into the city, holding onto his hope
To find solace and kindness and a place to call home
To be able to stay and no longer roam
And to sprout wings and fly, to be free as a bird
To be noticed and seen, have a voice that gets heard
But things don't always go to plan
Don't fret about falling
You can always get up
And don't worry about running into dead ends
You can always turn around
Find another path to tread
Little Blue Devil with your tail held up high
With bright sparkling grey eyes and a maw that'll bite
With claws sharp like razors and a cloak made to fit
May you hop along proudly without bridle nor bit
Poor, little Meepo, let the chaos rain down
From the top of the mountains to the caves far below
May your days all be joyful and the dark not prevail
May your dreams all be happy and your courage not fail
Let bygones be bygones, take the bull by the horns
Keep on searching for freedom, and wear your crown of thorns
Take a look at the future, and don't stall on your way
May you find joy and friendship, 'til the end of your days
Maybe you've read all the rambling above, maybe you've just scrolled down to the flashy embed; at any rate: You can listen to Fireside Tales on Bandcamp or on SoundCloud. I hope you can find some enjoyment in it.
Released December 24, 2020.