From Projekt Records’ Sam Rosenthal.

[ Written Sunday morning ] This weekend, I am supposed to be making one final attempt at writing lyrics for a new Black Tape For A Blue Girl song, so I can record with Athan in New York City next Monday. But frankly, it’s too early in the process to create lyrics I’m excited about (the stuff I’ve written so far is perhaps up to a “m’eh!”). I keep drifting towards writing dark electronic songs based upon my horn sound named “102 Hypocrite=Me” (this is a sound I created in the A Chaos of Desire era). Ok, do what feels right, I suppose. Two new songs started…

But, oddly enough, my brain is having a few ideas for the follow-up to my novel Rye. This is good, because work on that has been stalled (and by ‘stalled’ I mean, ‘not started’). It is so stereotypical to be a writer with writer’s block after finishing a first novel! I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “block” (even thought it HAS been two years since Rye was published). I’d say I’ve just not been making enough time and space to get back in the mood for writing.

Something occurred to me in the car Friday morning on the way to my son’s bus stop. He loves turning on NPR to listen to whatever they are reporting on. I am so tired of hearing about Ebola. NPR is filling all the available space in my brain. It makes me a bit nuts; I realize the radio leaves me no space to think.

Early on Saturday morning, I walked two-and-a-half miles to downtown Portland; headed towards The Fresh Pot coffee shop. Forty minutes of walking. No radio, no news on the ipad, no texts on the phone. The only things I had to do was drop off some promo packages at the mailbox, and drop off my voting ballot at the ballot box (as an aside, let me say it is so cool that every registered voter in Oregon gets a ballot in the mail. We fill it out at home and send it back in. Every state should use this system). Anyway… forty minutes of walking. No NPR. No news. Crossing from residential to the industrial east side; on the bridge over the river, then slipping within the tall buildings downtown. Just walking and my brain randomly thinking about nothing in particular.

While I was sitting at Fresh Pot, I had an idea. I asked the guy behind the counter if he had a sheet of paper and I filled both sides with sloppy red writing. It might be something for my next book. It might be trash. But I wrote SOMETHING!

I am thinking about how to re-introduce my characters in the sequel to Rye. I find it’s a common problem in sequels that writers assume you already know their characters, and they jump right into the story. A writer I met made this mistake in her sequel. Having never read the first book, I was confused by the third sentence. One cannot assume readers know your characters like you do. And yet, you don’t want to bore your return readers with the obvious. This dilemma has been on my mind for a while.

Every day when I was working on Rye, I walked a-mile-and-a-quarter each way to Projekt; I was taking in the surroundings, watching out for traffic, seeing what the druggies at the housing project were up to; and my thoughts were also working on the issues I was gaming out with my characters and plot.

That kind of input from my environment doesn’t seem to hamper my creativity. It seems to stimulate it. But the radio, the internet, information-inflow? That seems to be a problem. My friend often says: too much input, not enough output! Too much pre-chewed information is bad for my creativity. I have to turn off the radio, stop reading so much news. Walk a mile to a coffee shop. And let me brain do it’s thing.

Hey, check this out: I finally got into the last decade and bought an iPhone. My old blackberry-styled phone wasn’t ringing anymore and the back was being held on by painter’s tape. It was time to get semi-modern.

I am very aware of a problem I’m about to face: iPhone addiction. I don’t want to use the phone as a time-filler, or as a video-watching-device. I want to use it to make my life better (find things on Yelp when I’m out of the house, read texts from the people I am about to meet, make phone calls). I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes and thinking, “Yeah, good luck on that one, Sam!” But really, I want to fight the urge to nurture this addiction. I sense people are losing their connection to other people and their environment, as they crawl into their technology. They’re walking down the street watching cat videos and reading about the ten hottest actresses in SciFi films. All well and good, if that’s how you want to fill your life.

I want my life to be filled with creativity.

Speaking of… I am supposed to be in the studio, rather than procrastinating here writing this blog. At least blogging is writing; it’s creating something; it’s output.

(Yes, I admit it, I shot this photo of my ESI on my iPhone!)

I am out of town next weekend and after that, there are two new Projekt releases to announce. Then I’ll pick back up on the intrinsic value of music (which I started talking about in last week’s blog).

Take care, Sam

Link-a-doodle-doo

Hi Florida. Which Billionaire would you like to buy your governor? Article at The New York Times.

Not One Artist’s Album Has Gone Platinum In 2014. Read the article at Forbes.

This Thursday in Portland… Sound & Chaos: The Story of BC Studio. For over 30 years, Martin Bisi has recorded music at his studio in Brooklyn’s Gowanus neighborhood. Brian Eno worked on the album On Land there. Bisi worked with many other influential musicians there, including Sonic Youth, Swans, Angels of Light, John Zorn, Foetus and the Dresden Dolls. I recorded Brian Viglione’s drums for 10 Neurotics at BC Studio. This film plays Thursday 10/23 at the Hollywood Theatre. There’s a free afterparty + performance by Martin at Club 21. Facebook Event Page.

DEVO free Concert in Times Square from last week. Watch the whole thing on youTube.

Weep: Weep (Pre-order, expected late October) | CD $14 Doc Hammer’s latest CD of lush and powerful Dark Rock with a bit of Shoegaze panache. I Die You Die writes: “The tack that the group’s taken with their fourth full-length, from its unassuming eponymous name to its intentionally buzz-forsaking promotional strategy, to its less bombastic yet no less memorable sound seems specifically designed to avoid putting Weep in the same category or conversation as its predecessor.”

Please share your thoughts below. If you are signed in, your comment appears immediately. Otherwise, it will appear when I get on-line to approved it. If you want to share this blog on your pages, here’s the shortcode: https://www.projekt.com/store/?p=6584. Thanks. Sam

From Projekt Record & Black Tape For A Blue Girl’s Sam Rosenthal.

On Friday afternoon, I hung out with the people behind the electronic label Spotted Peccary Music. They release great CDs plus they’re the company that serves up Projekt’s 24/96k high res files.

We were sitting at picnic tables in the open-air back-porchy-like room of a typical Portland-styled drinking establishment. Wood-planked walls, beer signs over the steps to the bar, a food-cart belching scented smoke as it turned out Philly-styled Italian food. I’m painting a picture for you, a little setting of reality before this blog heads off and becomes cerebral. We’re sitting there, drinking our what-have-yous, having a really great brainstorming session concerning many tangents in the music industry, including physical vs. digital, will people pay for music, and the new landscape for survival.

Howard looks up and asks a question, I begin to answer, but then go off topic and start talking about how fans interact with bands. In “the old days” (the mid ’90s), Projekt could release an album from a band with no image (and a lot of mystery), mention it a few places, buy a few ads, send postcards and catalogs, and wham! We’d sell 2-3000 copies. People were itchin’ to hear new music, and Projekt was a reputable source for interesting new acts.

But that’s not how you get involved with music, these days, is it? Let’s face it, “fans” can access most music for free, if they really want to. The old model of a label releasing a faceless band, you heading to a record store to buy their CD, and then hearing their music for the first time when you get the CD home… that’s sort of over. What I find through my blogs, Facebook, and Kickstarter campaigns is that you want a connection to the artists you’re excited about. Few bands can survive, reclusively hiding in their bedroom-studio-caves. Yes, maybe a few legacy bands can get by on that, but certainly not younger bands; and certainly not older bands who never successively made the transition to the promotion-connection of social media in the modern age.

I see this problem, over and over. I speak with artists who haven’t had an album in ten or fifteen years, and they pull out absurd examples for why things should be a certain way; “Back in 1994, when we toured….” or “When the old label was placing the ad campaign for my last album in 2006.” Man, that’s a million years ago. The record industry doesn’t work like that anymore!

Well, I could shorten that sentence down to, “The record industry doesn’t work.”

This is the point where my brain shoots off onto a hundred different tangents. Try to follow me here…..

What motivates us artists to keep going?

For Xmas 2009, I posted a blog concerning the topic of Success. In it, a number of Projekt (and related artists) talked about what success means to them. Hold on a minute, I am going to go back and re-read it now, with five years of perspective. …. …. ….

Yep. I still agree with what I wrote back then: “…in the end, what I really enjoy is successfully making the artistic statement I want to make. When each album is fresh and new, it is the most accurate statement of where I am, creatively. At that moment, I am complete.”

But, I would clarify that.

To me, success is having my artistic statement received by the listeners. I like when that communication is completed.

And yet, that’s not what my brain thinks about. I need to do some self-reflection, to understand why I still have a money-centric definition of success.

Units and Dollars

Here’s the thing, Black Tape For A Blue Girl and Projekt was huge when the music industry measured success in units sold and dollars earned. Back in the 90s, bands like Blacktape could sell a lot of records. As mentioned last blog, at the peak Blacktape’s 1996 Remnants of a deeper purity sold around 16,000 copies.

( That was then. I don’t live in the past. I only expect a fraction of that, for the next album. )

And yet, I find that I cling to that old belief: units and dollars indicate success. I am using an outdated measuring stick.

I know there are fans of my creations; people who really connect to what I am working on (and what I have created in the past). And yet, I am still thinking that the way to measure that success is the same as it was in the mid-90s: by looking at a spreadsheet containing units and dollars.

I’ve been asking myself, “What is success to me?” or “Why did I want to make art in the first place?” The answer, as I said above, is: I want to communicate. For me, successful communication is the goal of making art. What matters is that people receive my work. They experience it. And that is not at all related to profit. In fact, I probably have more ‘success’ (by my own definition) now, then 20 years ago. Why do I say that? Because anyone can hear my work, without the barrier of having to pay for it.

So, why doesn’t that feel good to me?

Well, part is because I cling to the old paradigm about sales.

And the other part is I have this underlying belief in “fairness.” If I spend the hours doing the work of being an artist, I should get paid!

A friend wrote — when I asked him why this “getting paid” matters so much to me — “Perhaps it’s a matter of ethics, not so much the actual number but the idea of getting paid. After all, you try and pay people what you say you will pay them, on time and quite accurately; then I think you expect the same of others.”

I don’t want my favorite artists to be amateurs.

I really want to live in a world where artists can focus on their art. Would I want John Cale to have to work as a viola instructor, so he can take off two weeks a year to play some shows? David Bowie, maybe he’s a graphic designer? Marc Almond, he’s probably a drag queen, or turning high-end tricks with members of the Houses of Parliament : ) . Voltaire is a bartender, the one that you visit every week because he’s so damn entertaining. Think about it! It’s a very weird world where the-average-joe expects to be paid for their labor, and yet people are generally OK with the artists they love working some other job so music can be their hobby.

That’s not really the way I want the world to be.

My first job was archaeologist… My first job was computer graphics

You all know that Projekt is my day job. But that wasn’t always the situation. In the late 80s/early 90s, I created speaker-support-graphics for a living. I worked long freelance hours, creating dumb graphics that were projected at conventions for the corporate executives from the likes of Taco Bell, Denny’s, Acura, Mazda, etc. etc. (This was pre-PowerPoint, but the same general idea.) It paid really (really!) well and allowed me to fund the early CDs on Projekt.

Around the time Projekt was having success with Blacktape’s This lush garden within and the first Love Spirals Downwards release, I realized I was sacrificing the label’s potential. I wasn’t at my desk answering faxes from journalists and my overseas distributors; I was somewhere around the country doing freelance work. This was in the days before the internet; it wasn’t easy to keep in touch remotely. I’d return home and have a month off between jobs; and then I worked on music and the label. But too often, I’d leave Projekt unmanaged for two to four weeks, and that was getting to be a problem. I made the decision to stop working the freelance jobs, and focus on Projekt.

Things really took off, there was a lot of interest, and slowly Projekt ate all my time; my own art suffered. By the end of the 90s (because of all the obligations to the bands on Projekt plus the 11 employees), I rarely made time to work on my music. Then into the early 2000s, and the downsizing (mentioned last blog), and I had plenty of work to do (and I had a son!).

My best friend often reminds me that I cannot pass off responsibility for the decisions I made. And he’s right. I chose to put my energy into Projekt, rather than my art. It seemed like a wise move at the time: Projekt was getting very successful.

At any other record label, the biggest artist (Blacktape) would have been begged, cajoled, and bribed to get back into the studio. The label needed its biggest act to keep releasing music (if for nothing else, for purely profit reasons). But I was the guy at the label and in the band, there was nobody at Projekt pushing me, to get me on track. If I had a manager, he would have asked, “Do you really think it’s smart to keep putting all your energy into dayjobia, rather than into your music?” That was the thing: Projekt was a new day job and just like computer graphics, this job took lots of time away from my art.

It seemed like a wise decision at the time. However, what ended up happening was that I supported 30+ band’s careers, while letting down the most important thing: my own creativity.

I let my art go cold for years at a time.

If I had been focusing on my own work for the last 20 years, would I be surviving at it? Would I be like Steve Roach or Voltaire? Spending a huge chunk of my time making art?

(I hope this doesn’t come across as regret. That is not the intention, per se. This is me reflecting with awareness of choices I have made in my life, and contemplating whether I’ve gotten to the place I intended to go.)

It brings up the question, “Could I survive off my art?” I told myself many times over the years, “I don’t mind that Projekt is taking up so much of my time. If I had to support myself from my music, I’d have to make compromises to get by.” Yeah, sure, a guy in his early 30s can say that. But I’m older now, and I see Steve and Voltaire creating without compromise. And I ask my younger self if that argument was just an excuse, to avoid the hard work. To avoid having to lay it all on the line, and be an artist. If ‘an artist’ is what I am here to be, then was I chickening out? Hiding behind a reasonably justifiable excuse for not making more art.

Ben Franklin looks around the bar

Ok, so back to my meeting on Friday with Spotted Peccary. The smell of Italian sausages fill the air again, Howard looks up and poses another question. “What’s the future for record labels like ours?”

And I reply, “I’m sorry to say it, but there is no future. Projekt will not be able to continue as the label that discovers amazing new acts and releases them on CD. Because these CDs just don’t sell anymore. I cannot keep investing in CDs, when the demand is for less than 250 copies.”

Some will misinterpret that statement, so to be clear: Projekt is sticking around! I will keep releasing exciting music on my label. But the logic of releasing acts that barely sell? There is no logic in that at all.

I have to be realistic.

For me, personally, I want to make a transition back to being an artist who runs a record label, rather than a record label guy who has a (mostly) dormant artistic career.

I have thoughts on how to do that (which I will discuss in an upcoming blog).

The intrinsic value of music

For now, I have to be aware of my old connection to dollars and units. I have to recognize that my goals as an artist are not tied up in those numbers. Yes, I definitely believe there are ways to make a living creating music. But even more than that, I believe I can foster a better connection with each of you. Many of you are fans of what I create. And you still value music. It’s the core of what matters to you. It’s your soundtrack. It’s what gets you through your days, both good and bad. And I am told over and over (via email, Facebook, and Kickstarter) that music is worth a lot to you.

You are the completion of the circle that gives what I do meaning.

Music has an intrinsic value to you. It is important in your life. The same way NPR is important, and modern dance companies, and historic art house theaters. You don’t want to see music disappear, or become the realm of amateurs.

We’re thinking the same thing. Music has value, and it’s something that’s worth supporting.

I’ll post some great new ideas about this shortly.

Sam

New Releases Now In Stock

Project Pitchfork: Blood 2-CD Book $59 Various Artists: God is Goth (2-CD) $22 $15 Staubkind: Alles Was Ich Bin (Limited 2-CD) $23 Sopor Aeternus: Mitternacht Book & CD $55 | 2-LP $90 Heimataerde: Kaltwaerts Limited 2-CD Box $85 | 2-CD $23 | CD $19

October Webstore Top-5

1 Mirabilis: Here and the Hereafter (with 2 bonus CDs) 3-CDs $15 2 Dirk Serries: The Origin Reversal CD $15 3 Steve Roach: The Delicate Forever CD $14 4 Steve Roach: The Delicate Beyond CD $10 5 Steve Roach & Mark Seelig: Nightbloom ~ SALE $7 CD $7

October Bandcamp Top-5

1 Dirk Serries: The Origin Reversal Download $10 2 Steve Roach / Kelly David: The Long Night Download $10 3 Steve Roach: Structures From Silence (Deluxe 30th Anniversary Remastered Edition) Download $18 4 Erik Wøllo: Tundra (ep) Download $4 5 Mirabilis: »Here and the Hereafter« Download $10

Malcolm McLaren – authenticity vs karaoke culture

To speed things up, you can skip the first 27 minutes with this summary: “Two key points to explain my struggle today, two words sum up culture: authenticity & karaoke. A karaoke world is one in which life is lived by proxy and liberated by hindsight. It is unencumbered by the messy process of creativity.”

Karaoke society = becoming famous overnight without any talent, while reveling in our stupidity.

Jump in 27 minutes; he’s talking about art school in the 60s: http://youtu.be/E-wtmV0fAAg?t=27m27s

Flamboyant Failure vs. benign success

Please share your thoughts below. If you are signed in, your comment appears immediately. Otherwise, it will appear when I get on-line to approved it. If you want to share this blog on your pages, here’s the shortcode: https://www.projekt.com/store/?p=6477. Thanks. Sam

the dust it settles all around and through the fire comes better days and all these memories burn away – Lycia, “The Burning Circle”

From Projekt Records’ Sam Rosenthal.

Over the last 20 years, Projekt has brought in over $7,000,000 ! Color me impressed (sort of an aquamarine, a little on the green side). But don’t make the mistaken assumption that I lined my pockets with cash. Projekt was a very effective money churning-machine, moving cash around the economy. Nearly all of that money went right out the door.

Keep in mind that Projekt was really expensive to run back in the peak era (1995-1999): * Projekt bought full page ads in Alternative Press * Projekt had massive bills at the pressing plants. Those deluxe-packaged CDs were pricey to manufacture, I would have to order 5000+ CDs at a time, and often 3 big releases at once. Furthermore, while the option was there to press-for-cheap in China or the Czech Republic, I chose to press in the USA. It was the right thing to do, to keep the money in the “local” economy. * Projekt artists were paid their royalties * It cost $1000 to make a poster (film + printing). * Each release had it’s own postcard * At the peak of our time with Ryko Distribution, they got 400 – 600 promotional CDs for stores, and we sent another 200+ to press, radio, etc. For Lycia, that number was much higher, as they were touring a lot, and Pat was working on local press pieces. * In that 1994-1998 time frame, Projekt was distributing tons of Hyperium and Tess and Cold Meat Industry CDs; after I moved to Chicago, the label had 11 employees with two key employees earning more than I earned, plus they got health care.

Yes, I took a salary, but nothing extravagant. Pretty much all of that seven mil was consumed by the business.

Now wait! Actually, come to think of it, Projekt consumed way more than what it earned. Projekt was building up debt on my credit cards.

Of course, fans in the late 90s had this perception that Projekt was much larger than we were. All those ads, and postcards, and catalogs helped build the mystique. I remember talking with Mike of Lycia about how fans on the road made guesses like, “You guys must sell 20,000 CDs!” “30,000 CDs!” Oh, if only!

A few releases did some lofty numbers, but these were the best-sellers, not the typical sales numbers. Black tape for a blue girl’s 1996 Remnants of a deeper purity was the biggest selling non-compilation release, with around 16,000 sold. Love Spirals Downwards first two albums were each not that far behind. Three compilations did extremely well; the two we released exclusively with Hot Topic: 2002’s Projekt: Gothic (27,000) and 2003’s The New Face of Goth (25,600); and the first Christmas CD, 1995’s Excelsis: a dark noel (15,000).

Projekt was really busy, and bands were getting out to their fans, but by early 2000, Projekt was in considerable debt. In fact, $180,000 in credit card debt, and the future looked like a downward slope. Yikes! That was the time when – if I had a business degree – I might have cut my losses and gone bankrupt. But that thought only flickered by in passing. I left Chicago for NYC; I downsized, huddled, got caught up on royalties due to Projekt’s artists, and slowly paid down the debt. In a way, I downsized Projekt at the perfect time. Most of America waited for the fall-out from the dotcom bust, and 9/11, to tighten their belts. Because of the excesses of the ’90s, Projekt was a year or two ahead of the crowd.

For a while there in NYC, it was only Lisa and I at Projekt. I kept releasing great music and finding new bands to work with. My budget was very sober and close to the bone.

At that time, people were still buying CDs, yet the music industry was changing. Napster existed from June 1999 to July 2001. On January 9, 2001, iTunes 1.0 was released, though it took a while to take off. Projekt’s sales were slipping (like every label in the music business); yet I was bailing out the waters of debt; the ship was righting itself (have I tortured enough metaphors?) When Lisa got pregnant in late 2001, I brought Shea on staff to handle the mail-order.

2002 was the year things really shifted in the industry; it was the year when Projekt’s key releases stopped selling in the 5-10,000 range (except for those aforementioned Hot Topic comps, which sold amazingly.)

Fast forward twelve years, I’ve been adapting and learning every since. Gone are the days when we’d regularly ship out 5000 units of a new release to stores. No more big tours, nor ad budgets, and a lot less cash flowing in and out the door. Projekt is lean. The staff hours are about the same as in the early 90s. I don’t work 60 hour weeks anymore.

When people say to me, “Projekt’s problem is you don’t know how to adapt to the times,” I shake my head and sarcastically mumble, “Yeah, right. THAT’s the reason records aren’t selling! It’s because Projekt haven’t changed since the heyday of 1997.” Not at all, my friends. Projekt is small but alive, and I’m enjoying my life. And things are good, thanks!

-Sam

Coming in a future post: Mixing Lycia’s Ionia and A Day in the Stark Corner with Mike.

Link-a-doodle-doo * It’s Portland, so of course you have a coffee shop / bar / laundromatte. Great concept! * “Legendary Artists Show Support for Turtles Victory.” This is why I like Sound Exchange. * Steve Roach’s The Delicate Forever reviewed at textura.org/. “Classic Roach, The Delicate Forever reflects his current obsession with tonality and colour, and is as refined an example of his time-suspending ambient-electronic artistry as one might hope to find.” Purchase the CD at Projekt for $14 or the download at Bandcamp for $10. * Dirk Serries’ “The Origin Reversal reviewed at touchingextremes. Dirk Serries’ “The Origin Reversalconveys the awareness of a serene approach to the act of existing which is emblematic of the best contemporary ambient. The soundtrack of a slightly sorrowful recollection that, at the end, bends the lips upwards in a smile of affection for people and memories that have defined our earlier life.” Projekt for $14 or the download at Bandcamp for $10.

Dirk Serries live in concert:

October 25 Synagoge, Groningen (The Netherlands) : Facebook Event Page November 19 Effenaar, Eindhoven (The Netherlands) : Facebook Event Page November 23 Le guess who? festival, Utrecht (The Netherlands) : Facebook Event Page November 27 AB, Brussels (Belgium) : Facebook Event Page December 5 Cinépalace, Kortrijk (Belgium) : Facebook Event Page

Mirabilis: Here and the Hereafter with 2 Bonus CDs | $15

Late September. Submerse yourself in the third ethereal/darkwave foray from Mirabilis featuring Dru Allen and Summer Bowman, two of the genre’s most-celebrated vocalists. As Mirabilis, these women go beyond the rock-hued sounds of their respective bands (This Ascension/Mercury’s Antennae and the Machine in the Garden) to create beautiful, vocal-centered originals alongside reinterpreted pieces ranging from medieval to pop.

Dirk Serries: The Origin Reversal with Bonus CD | $15

Dirk Serries returns to Projekt Records with The Origin Reversal, a re-boot of his classic vidnaObmana sound. This is ambient music that flows from its discreet origins: sonic purity, washes of harmony, and organic textures which slow time to a phase of transcendence. Steve Roach: The Delicate Beyond | $10

Steve has created a second edition with a subtle remix of the 74-minute piece, an extension of the opening track from The Delicate Forever. Howard Givens at Spotted Peccary added an audiophile mastering job.

Black Tape For A Blue Girl: The Collection

Darkwave, goth rock & ethereal pop from Black Tape For A Blue Girl. A 10-track collection that includes their “hits” as well as atmospheric album tracks.

The Birthday Massacre: Violet LP Limited Ediition purple vinyl. $19 Cocksure: TVMALSV Bridging the gap between waxtrax! era industrial and future sounds of mass corruption. $14 KMFDM: We Are Live album features favorites new and old. $14 Prude: The Dark Age of Consent Wild mix of 70’s NYC punk/glam with a harsh, damaged electronic edge. $14 Sequential Access: Sex Addict Anonymous 13 tracks of pure golden era electro-industrial. $14 Various Artists: Projekt Ambient / Electronic Clearance Box A grab bag of fantastic Projekt music. 10 CDs for $30.

Quiet Friends: A 30th Anniversary Tribute to Steve Roach’s Structures From Silence. Free download at Bandcamp

Reflection on Quiet Friends, from Steve Roach

This gathering of quiet friends — this experience of hearing the mutual resonation to a sound and space we each, in our own way, connect to—-stirs so many complex and wonderful emotions for me.

In every piece, I can sense that inexplicable yearning and desire to enter into the limitless space, wonder, and quiet depth of just being. This was the seed for Structures From Silence.

The authenticity of connecting to the present moment is so alive here. This collection is living proof of an omni-present soundcurrent, one these quiet friends here have tapped into in their own powerful way to create a multi-faceted jewel of a release. I am deeply honored and moved beyond by your efforts.

Respect and gratitude for this gift to you all!