This is really a fine collection of songs, if I do say so myself. There’s one excellent track – The Music of Grayface’s “Silentcanoes” – that you’ll only be able to hear on the CD, so you should really come to the show and pick up your copy (or pre-order it right now via Bandcamp if you can’t make the show).

See you Thursday!

Today is the official release date of For All the Girls’ self-titled debut. For All the Girls is, of course, the project not of a precociously brilliant 13-year-old named Damien Fairchild, but an age-appropriately brilliant 30-something known as Drew Danburry. Regardless, the tunes are great and the accompanying videos have been pretty excellent as well. Here’s the newest, for “Valerie”:

In addition, our very good friends Slow Skate have posted a free download of their (up to now) vinyl-only release “St. Valentine” over on their Facebook page. Go get it!

I’m very excited to present oh lo lo to the world on CD for the first time (I know, no one but me gives a shit about CDs, but let me have my moment here). Come out to the Sunset on the 23rd for the Ball of Wax 27 release show and see them play a special set tailored just for us.

Touring can be disorienting. Anyone who has been on the road for a while knows the questions “Where are we?,” “What is the date again?,” and “Who am I?” all too well. Ray Rude, the drummer of serial giggers The Builders and the Butchers, once referred to touring as like living inside a long tube. The tube only stops to let you out to play for a few hours until the tube get hungry and needs to eat up more road (as the tube occupants while away the hours in a smelly van). Rob, Nick, and I had been driving in our tube for three weeks before we headed to Albuquerque, New Mexico (having already taken in California and Mexico on our worldwide tour to meet local bands (documented here)). The arduous drive up from old Mexico was not helped by the three of us being in a Pontiac Sunfire with three months’ worth of clothes, DV tapes and electric adapters cramping our already cramped cabin.

It is well known that idle hands can exacerbate Tour Fever, yet there are few things you can do in a car for entertainment. The library in the Pontiac consisted of a couple of maps of North America, a few Lonely Planet guides, mystic magician Derren Brown’s Tricks of the Mind (a self-help guide to improve your memory and to better influence people) and a small book featuring the quotes of the Chinese philosopher Confucius. Most of the reading time was spent seeking spiritual enlightenment or learning how to manipulate the rest of the car into stopping at McDonald’s rather than Burger King.

“Artful speech and an ingratiating demeanor rarely accompany virtue” [Confucius]

The trip to Mexico had been a success (despite our distinct lack of Spanish); our confidence in finding excellent music and opinions was growing with every interview, with a Saturday night out in Albuquerque hopefully holding more hidden gems. The big bag of money, however, was getting lighter quicker than budgeted, so a Saturday night out in Albuquerque would have to end sleeping in the car in a parking lot somewhere.

“A man’s faults all conform to his type of mind. Observe his faults and you may know his virtues.” [Confucius]

Albuquerque sits on the flatlands set in the middle of a huge mountain range. Driving in off the highway “The Duke City” can be seen to sprawl for miles, the main drag of Albuquerque lighting up like a runway to guide you to the action. Even though it was a dark and damp January evening, Albuquerque’s main drag, our beacon of hope in which we had driven so many miles to take part of, seemed to be eerily quiet for a big Saturday night. Rob parked the car in an overnight garage, which was to be our home for the night, and quickly set about polishing off the vodka that Nick and I had started tucking into on the drive. With a slight glint in our eyes we set off to the nearest bar to ask where we could find Burt’s Tiki Lounge, which, according to Lonely Planet, had gigs five nights a week. We bounded to the nearest pub and ordered a few gin and tonics to get us up and out. However, the bar was nearly empty. The waitress was calm and collected. Our mood for action and music and people and fun started to drain.

“Well boys, I don’t know what to tell you,” she explained, “there is no music on in Albuquerque tonight.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think there would be here,” I asked, pointing excitedly to the surroundings, “but elsewhere, maybe at Burt’s Tiki Lounge . . . where is that?”

“Well, this isn’t New York City or Paris you know, Sunday nights are a bit slow,” she replied.

Rob was the only one not drunk enough to take the news in.

“But it is Saturday,” Nick and I replied in unison.

“You guys are funny. Another round of Gin and Tonics?”

With that, we were dumbstruck. We had lost a day, somehow, driving in the car. We were well and truly lost in our bizarre trip so much that time did not apply. Tour Fever had arrived in full living technicolor.

“Well, we may as well get blind drunk, as it is going to be mighty uncomfortable in that car tonight sober,” Nick announced, nailing his beverage.

“The man of honour thinks of his character, the inferior man of his position. The man of honour desires justice, the inferior man favour.” [Confucius]

The morning dew settled on our faces as the sun broke over the ranges that wrap around Albuquerque. Although we were greeted to a sight of such stunning beauty that is New Mexico in snow, we were dying from the booze and shaking from the cold set in our bones. It was now Monday and the car park was beginning to fill up with commuters starting their day. One point of note that came out of our Sunday night was the main arts and entertainment magazine in Albuquerque, The Alibi, was a short drive away from our car park, and opposite a buffet restaurant. Nick, the most non-hungover, drove us to the magazine’s head office, where we were able to set up an interview later that day with the music editor, Laura Marrich.

At the dark end of a pool bar on a Monday afternoon (gin and tonics were on special offer), we set up our tripod and set about asking Laura, a journalist, editor, and musician with local band The Gracchi (pronounced Grak-eye), what Albuquerque had to offer (and ultimately what we had missed seeing as the two nights of the week without music were Sundays and Mondays).

 ****

Glocal Scene: “What is Albuquerque like?”

Laura Marrich: “It is cool! As you’ve noticed it is really an interesting incubator for culture because it is so isolated. In terms of touring, Albuquerque is kind of out of the way – New Mexico gets cut out because it is 400 miles to major cities in Arizona, 400 miles to Denver, 400 miles to Columbus City and south of here there is fricking nothing. That is, unless you go 600-800 miles to the cities in Texas.”

GS: “This sounds like a bad thing . . .”

LM: “Well, it is a plus and a minus. It is a minus because you miss out on a lot of the big names and good bands. On the other end of the spectrum there are a lot of interesting people who end up here for whatever reason.”

GS: “I’d bet . . .”

LM: “Because of that we have a unique culture not just artistically but our values, too. Plus it is sunny all the time, which I think affects people. Everyone is passionate here about something or other, but you might hear that everywhere you go.”

GS: “Have you lived anywhere else, other than here?”

LM: “Yeah, LA and Detroit. The thing about the LA music scene is that it is so big. It is such an international scene. It is not a melting pot, but more of a patchwork quilt of cultures. You can choose your adventure, really. But there is so much going on that if you don’t have an in or somebody to latch onto or a neighborhood for your base, you will miss out and think ‘this place sucks’.”

GS: “And what about Detroit?”

LM: “That is an interesting place because the city itself is kinda like a ghost town. It was the birthplace of the automobile, but now it is dead. You have headquarters that are empty and the city has evacuated to the suburbs, creating a vacuum. There is no civic heart of the city anymore. The interesting part of that is that Detroit has become a culture of suburbanism, whereby the kids have gone out of their minds with boredom so they turn to music. When I lived there, kids were really proactive with music – ‘why not combine rap and metal and reggae.’ Boredom will do that.”

GS: “Any bands from the area you would recommend for us to go see then?”

LM: “Well, if you can stick around for tomorrow night my friend is playing at Burt’s Tiki Lounge in a band called Lousy Robot. I interviewed the main guy, Jim, last week for the paper. He has the most bizarre way of going about things. His process for making music is the most non-intuitive for me that it drives me insane. He starts by thinking of the name of the album, then he comes up with 20-30 song titles, then he dumps half, then he writes lyrics for half, then he gets out his guitar and does the bare bones for the melody. It is so backwards.”

GS: “It must sound bad . . .”

LM: “NO! It sounds really cohesive and different. It is a little weird. It is good pop.”

****

Lousy Robot released their 3rd album last year, titled Hail The Conquering Fool. We never did see them live when we were in New Mexico in 2007, and I don’t quite know whether Jim’s method of writing songs remains the same. See if you can guess for yourself:

After our initial setback of not being able to see any live music in New Mexico, we were honored to have such a well-spoken ambassador for the town of Albuquerque in Laura Marrich. Rumor has it she still resides in the fair city and is Editor-in-Chief for The Alibi and winning awards and taking names in the process. For up to the minute info on all that is happening in the interesting and diverse city of Albuquerque, check out The Alibi‘s online content (including the local music forum Rock Squawk).

The mid-afternoon drinking meant we were all in need of a rest before our long journey to Denver. A slice of pizza and a film at the local cinema had been thought to be sufficient fuel to drive 400 miles in the dead of night, but ultimately meant that we had to pull over for a nap (as the driver started hallucinating with tiredness some 270 miles shy of our target).

“Learning without thinking is useless. Thinking without learning is dangerous.” [Confucius]

Still in New Mexico, we hunkered down in a car park just off the highway and piled on all the clothes we had with us. We awoke the next morning to find ourselves high in the mountains, 2 feet of snow around the car and frost coating the inside of our car like an icy tomb. I wrestled out of my sleeping bag and through the snow to find a place to urinate and to have a quick mental chat with myself, only to spot a heated visitor’s center and toilet facility 10 meters from our frozen vehicle. In hushed tones we vowed never to sleep outside again if there was snow on the ground and perfectly warm shelter nearby.  

“Knowledge and investigation help promote wonder, they do not destroy it. Whatever our tastes, we can generally appreciate such things as music, art or wine better when we understand a bit about them. We read up on our favorite singers or artists because we feel we can appreciate their work better when we know how they think and what they bring to their work. In a similar way, the psychological tricks behind many seemingly paranormal events are truly more fascinating than the explanation of other-worldiness precisely because they are of this world, and say something about how rich and complex and mysterious we are as human beings to be convinced by such trickery, indeed to want to perpetuate it in the first place.” [Derren Brown, Tricks of the Mind]

Ball of Wax Volume 27 Release Show
Thursday, February 23rd, 9:00pm
The Sunset Tavern
With musical performances from Alicia Amiri, Kevin Barrans and Friends, The Music of Grayface, Oh Lo Lo, and Sun Tunnels.
Free copy of Ball of Wax 27 CD with entry.

Volumes 25 (Songs about Books) and 26 (Tribute to the Anthology of American Folk Music) were loads of fun, but I’m excited to get back to just putting out a disc of great music without any particular theme and having a kickass show at the Sunset to celebrate it. The newest volume features brand new tracks from old friends such as Alicia Amiri, The Music of Grayface, and Sun Tunnels; new friends, including Glass Tunnels (so many tunnels!) and Kevin Barrans; and old friends in new bands, like Fungal Abyss and Oh Lo Lo. Plus much more! Join us at the Sunset on February 23rd to hear some great live music and get a free copy of the CD.

See you there!

• January 27, 2012 Make-Out Room, San Francisco, CA
• January 28, 2012 The Blue Lamp, Sacramento, CA
• January 29, 2012 Duffy’s Tavern, Chico, CA
• February 10, 2012 Bipartisan Cafe, Portland, OR
• February 11, 2012 Doug Fir Lounge, Portland, OR
• February 25, 2012 Swedish American Hall, San Francisco, CA NOISE POP 2012

BoW: You recently released Family Trees after a pretty long hiatus from music (at least in a public sense). What made you want to put out music again, tour, etc?

CF: Yeah…. it was a while between For Stars’ last record It Falls Apart and my first solo record. I never fully stopped making music but had a difficult time really getting things together for a record. The simple answer would be I had two kids, went back to graduate school, and ended up dealing with a lot of psychological baggage I hadn’t really dealt with in my twenties. During this time I also lost my dad and brother, which left me kind of incapacitated for long periods of time.

Psychoanalytic work helped me find my music again. I am not a Jungian (in fact I often feel quite annoyed with Jungians) but Carl Jung spoke about the dangers of delving into one’s own unconscious because the primitive (psychotic) parts of the mind can overwhelm a person. I know it sounds heady but I believe some underlying fears were inhibiting my creative mindset. There is a part in John Steinbeck’s Red Pony where the boy sees the old Paisano riding an old horse up a mountainside heading into the Big Sur mountains. The boy had lived at the base of these mountains his entire life and had countless fantasies of what was behind the mountains. I guess I have been able to “enter the mountains again” (if that makes any sense to anyone) and have found countless images and landscapes to sing about.

BoW: Were there any songs on Family Trees that sprung from your brain and jolted you into writing and recording again? Are there songs on there that you’ve had for years that you were afraid would never be released and heard by anyone?

CF: You know, I think the newer songs (“I Walk I Talk,” “Slouching Toward Reality,” “Africa,” “Family Tree,” “Space”) got me into it again. Half of the record is songs from my San Luis Obispo days. Matt (M. Ward) and I decided it would be fun to do some old songs he loved from that time in our lives. I enjoyed doing the old ones but really felt closer to a song like “Slouching Toward Reality” which is about loss and the pain that comes in dealing with and living in reality. Growing up is hard and if it weren’t for a healthier part of mind I could of remained a fucking child my entire life.

I never really worried too much that songs would not be heard. Somewhere I knew I would do this again and if the song was good enough it would end up in the ears of someone else.

BoW: During your hiatus you’ve pursued a career in psychology and therapy. What drew you to that field? Did the demands of training affect your musical activity? How about the demands of practicing therapy, how do they affect your creative energies toward music?

CF: I got into psychotherapy through my own needs to figure out what was going on in my own mind. I have an extremely active mind and there came a time in my life (mid to late twenties) where my unconscious was kind of flooding me. I have some trepidation about talking about the material I was encountering due to the fact I now work analytically with patients who might feel freaked out (this is the handling of the transference) if they ever came across this interview. Patients find these kind of things on the Internet and I have to be sensitive. Psychoanalytic thinking gave me a map to trudge the area of the unconscious and helped me become more comfortable with being a person. I also feel a lot of empathy for people suffering and feel I can be helpful in helping them develop a stronger ability to organize their experiences and feel less terrified of their own minds.

Yes, the training made it harder for me to find time to play music. To become an effective therapist is a very difficult task and on top of trying to be a good father and work full-time I found little time to write and record. I missed it and with a lessening of external demands and renewed feelings of love and interest for art and music I have become quite productive again.

If anything, practicing therapy opens a person up to creativity. I have had the pleasure and good fortune of working at a clinic (which I have been working for on and off with since I graduated from Cal Poly in 1996) with severely emotionally disturbed teenagers. The intrapsychic world that inhabits the mind of a schizophrenic can be quite terrifying, though also interesting. Through my own growing ability to be empathic and have contact with parts of my mind that are more primitive I’ve been able to visit some seriously surreal places (with myself and the teens) that to me are kind of the bedrock of meaningful and interesting art.

BoW: Was there a moment that you now consider to be the pinnacle of For Stars’ success, from either an artistic or a commercial standpoint?

CF: I guess the moment I most felt kind of like a rock star (or having commercial success) was when we were playing festivals in Europe. We played at the Benicassim Festival in front of thousands of people in Spain and got to hang out with a bunch of beautiful people and I got to feel special for about 10 minutes. That wears off though and you end up feelings like a kid that just ate too much candy. I am still amazed by how drawn I am with being “backstage” when I know, on some level, it’s a sham. It’s an archaic fantasy I believe has its roots in the being “mom’s special kid” with an “all access pass”. . . it’s also rooted in the Oedipal Complex (I won’t elaborate). For Stars’ success was fairly quick and success came in strange pockets (like being popular in Spain) so it all seems like a bit of blur now.

Artistically I feel most proud of the Windows for Stars record. There is something unique about the record and I remember feeling very creative when we made it. I listened to it not so long ago and thought “wow . . . this is a great record!” It has an orange color to its sounds and feels glacially slow. Sometimes I have fantasies of that record getting rediscovered . . . so I could be the next Alex Chilton! I hope people can understand my humor here. I don’t want to be Alex Chilton because he ended up unhappy washing dishes in a restaurant but I do enjoy people finding my records and connecting to the songs and sounds . . . and I do love Alex Chilton.

BoW: I’ve written elsewhere about seeing what I think was For Stars’ last show. Was it? Can you expand a little bit on the end of that band? Was there mainly a sense of accomplishment at the time or disappointment? Has your view of For Stars changed any over the years?

CF: Yeah . . . that was the last show. Oh man, that was a terrible way to end. Trying to play mellow tunes to hundreds of rowdy drunk dudes waiting to see Two Gallants. The end of the band was really a bummer for me though I really couldn’t tell you if it had to do with the band ending or just a certain time in my life ending. Mike Young, who is one my best friends and was an integral part of the band, got offered a scholarship to Princeton to study architecture with a deconstructivist professor named Peter Eisenman and he could not turn it down. We couldn’t really be a band after this because Mike was a driving force behind the sound and arrangements.

Between the ages of 22 and 28 you think you can do whatever you want. You hit 29 or 30 and start to think, “what the fuck am I doing with my life?” I started noticing the 35 and 40 year old guys hanging out in the bar and and getting drunk at shows and would think to myself how depressing that life looked to me. It all seemed to feel meaningless and I was running the risk of becoming a fairly dysfunctional manchild unable to accept the truth that I would never become what I fantasized about.

I ended the band feeling kind of bad about things and felt very lost musically for years.

BoW: You seem to have relationships with some notable musicians from growing up and college (M.Ward, Adam Selzer and Tony Moreno of Norfolk & Western), what was your relationship with other bands or musicians in the Bay Area during For Stars’ run? Were you in the same circles as folks like John Vanderslice, Beulah, Deerhoof, John Dwyer (Coachwhips, Thee Oh Sees), the Aisler Set or the American Music Club guys?

CF: I am a good friend with most of the Beulah guys. I am actually playing in Sacramento next week with two of the guys from Beulah. The first incarnation of For Stars had Bill Swan and Pat Noel from Beulah in the band, though I think Miles Kurosky (the front man from Beulah) gave them an ultimatum. Kind of pick-a-band thing and they joined the one everybody loved which was Beulah. I always felt competitive with them, though we were very different bands. I remember one night I was very drunk listening to Grandaddy’s The Sophtware Slump over at the Beulah guitar player Pat Noel’s house. It was 4 am in the morning and Pat and I decided I would call Miles and pretend I was a booking agent from this cheesy San Francisco club. Miles was obviously asleep and I said in a cocky voice, “Miles, sup bro this Ricky from down at the Paradiso and I was wondering if you could handle doin a gig with us.” Miles said in a groggy voice, “. . . what time is it?” Anyway the next morning Pat and I were extremely hungover and we picked up Miles in Oakland (Beulah had practice). Miles got in the car and said in an angry voice, “some kook from the Paradiso called me at 4 in the morning to offer Beulah a gig.” He then looked at me in a threatening way and said, “Was that you?” I said “no”. . . so now if you ever find this, Miles, it was me.

Tim Mooney from the American Music Club is a good friend and helped with percussion and mixing on the Family Trees record . . . very wonderful person. I did a tour with Mark Eitzel and used to hang out a little but don’t see him any more. I was a friend with Vanderslice but when I stopped releasing records a lot of folks disappeared from my life. I don’t take it personally, it’s just the natural course of things.

Actually I have a new record that is moving along and one of the main folks helping me with it is Bill Swan who played in Beulah. Tim Mooney also plays the drums on part of it.

BoW: Was there an album or song that was particularly important to you when you were 15 years old? How about 25? 35?

At 15 I started listening to punk rock music. My favorite bands at the time were Black Flag and the Damned . . . stuff like this. I also really started worshiping Joni Mitchell but kept that one a secret. My older brother had Clouds and I first liked “Both Sides Now.” By the end of high school it was all about Sonic Youth whom I saw on the Goo tour, Dinosaur Jr. whom I saw on the Green Mind tour, and all the big indie bands of that time.

At 25 I was mostly listening to bands like the Mountain Goats, Modern Lovers/Jonathan Richman, and Yo La Tengo (I loved the And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out record). I still listened to Joni though. Never have I really taken too long a break from her. I was really loving the couple M. Ward records that had been made and it was exciting to see how his music was evolving. Still is.

At 35 I would say I could remember listening to a lot of Brian Eno and Randy Newman. I listen to so much different stuff it is hard to say. I do really love the ambient Brian Eno records . . . especially the ones with Harold Budd. I also fall in love with songs like “The Kiss” from Judee Sill and Roberta Flack’s rendition of “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” What did I listen to today . . . um . . . oh yeah . . . I was listening to the Hounds of Love record from Kate Bush. So good! I really like it all . . . except like Nickelback or Maroon 5.

BoW: Much of the music on Family Trees and with For Stars can be described as sad or low key or contemplative. Are there fast, raucous Carlos Forster songs somewhere? Do you listen to punk, heavy metal or aggressive music?

When I try to sing something heavy or more raucous it ends up sounding forced and awkward. I have a new record in the works and there are more upbeat tunes on it (than Family Trees) but I can’t do the dude-rockin-out thing too well. I really like heavy music though don’t know a whole lot about what is out there at the moment. I still listen to Ozzy (when I exercise . . . which is not a lot) but I don’t even know if he is considered heavy. I like Led Zeppelin and some of Metallica’s music but I wouldn’t say they are on heavy rotation for me. I don’t know . . . would Guided by Voices be considered heavy?

BoW: What would be your ideal relationship to music or some sort of career in music for your going forward? Would you like to continue to record and release new music at a regular clip? What about performing and touring?

CF: My ideal career in music would be to do about 20 to 30 shows a year and maybe make a little extra money. I don’t have the same expectations I used to and now it’s just a lot of fun doing things like this interview or having someone Facebook message me that they are finding their way into the record I made. I just did the Daytrotter thing and had a blast hanging out with Sean Moeller and the other folks (Bambi and Johnny) that run the operation. I also did a couple shows with Matt (M. Ward) in the Midwest and that was so much fun. Getting to get on stage with Mike Coykendall and Matt and performing the songs with good friends is really special and I think this is what it is about.

Yeah I want to keep making records. It was hard not doing it for a while. I mean . . . I was always doing it but it just really slowed down to the point the record I made with Matt took 8 years. I think Matt released about 4 solo records in that time (Transistor Radio, Transfiguration of Vincent, Post-War, and Hold Time) so I have a lot of catching up to do.

BoW: What is the one song you most wish you had written?

CF: This is a tough question. I have a couple. The first one that came to mind is “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison. “The Kiss” from Judee Sill. “Goodbye to Romance” by Ozzy. “Please Let me Wonder” by the Beach Boys. “More Than This” by Roxy Music. This list goes on and on. I love so many songs.

BoW: For a lot of people, Joni Mitchell’s discography kind of ends with Court and Spark. Can you make a case as to why they should explore her more difficult late 70′s, early 80′s albums?

CF: Oh yeah . . . my favorite Joni records come after Court and Spark. Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter, Hejira, and The Hissing of Summer Lawns are all beautiful records. I bought Chalk Mark in a Rainstorm when it came out and remember being upset but over the years I found some great songs on that records (“My Secret Place” with Peter Gabriel being one). Night Ride Home also had some wonderful songs. One of the reasons to listen to those 3 that came after Court and Spark was Jaco Pastorius. The bass on those records is totally phenomenal and most of the time is does not even sounds like a bass. There are times it sounds like string arrangements and it’s hard to believe he was doing that all on the bass. Mingus was interesting but I don’t think it stacks up well with the others.

There are other reasons like the 16 minute “Paprika Plains” on Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter. It’s a masterpiece! The whole Hejira record I think is right up there with Court and Spark. I could go on and on about Joni and the truth is I equally adore her early stuff. It’s too bad she has this kind of Lilith Fair draw because she is way out of that ball park. That stuff is so dull and I know people will at times equate her with that. She also has this super pissy attitude now which I think is funny. Sometimes I wonder if she’ll ever stop smoking.

Image courtesy Flickr user ~Minnea~

Welcome, Ball of Wax listener. Today much of the web is protesting something called SOPA. It’s like the Internet declared a snow day.

What the hell is SOPA and what does it mean for Ball of Wax?

SOPA is proposed legislation from the US government to regulate the way the public Internet works. It is called the Stop Online Piracy Act. It would give centralized authority to the US government to censor your consumption of the Internet on a website by website basis.

That sounds crazy, right?

On Thanksgiving 2010, the popular hip-hop website dajaz1.com was shut down by the US Department of Justice based on verbal authorization from a VP of RIAA. No other evidence was provided. The website remained out of business and in limbo for over a year.

The track that caused the DOJ to act was given to dajaz1 by the track’s record label; they wished to promote it and dajaz1 was one of the most popular blogs for that track’s target audience.

A website that legally connected listeners to new music was shut down and the operators put into serious legal limbo.

SOPA codifies this insanity into law.

Ball of Wax Audio Quarterly is a resource which allows artists to distribute and gain wider audience . . . not unlike dajaz1 did. Would you be pissed off if this resource disappeared or was outlawed without due process? Then you need to act now!

Take action and tell your representatives that SOPA isn’t gonna fly. Tell them that we already have adequate laws for dealing with piracy.

If Levi included a Lady Gaga track on Ball of Wax Volume 27 without her label’s permission, there are already legal avenues for the physical CDs as well as the website. We can trust Levi’s taste and moral compass, such that this would never happen. Ball of Wax respects the original owner’s copyright.

The MPAA and the RIAA need to figure out how to run a business in the digital age, instead of bribing congress for a desperate attempt at control our shared, public interwebs.

If you don’t live in the US, we apologize for our obtuse attempt at regulating a global commons.

If you’ve already taken action, be patient with the Internet’s snow day. Maybe listen to some new music!

Not thirteen.

In hindsight, I should have known there was something fishy about this whole “Damien Fairchild” story. The songs – however sweet and innocent and charming – were just a bit too good, too sharp and well-produced, to be the product of a barely teenaged artist. Never mind the logistical problem presented by the idea that this young man had already been in love so many times, with so many different girls, at such a young age. The whole thing was too good to be true, but it was sweet and adorable and I liked the idea that I was giving this young, budding talent some of his first press, in however small a venue.

Turns out it was all too good to be true. Yesterday I received what might well be my final e-mail from “Damien Fairchild.” It started off by letting me know that his new single, “Valerie,” was up at Soundcloud. Here, check it out:

Valerie by DamienFairchild

Anyway, with the business out of the way, “Damien” revealed his secret to me. He is not, in fact, a thirteen-year-old Romeo/savant, but a somewhat older, road-hardened troubadour known as Drew Danburry (previously credited as the director of at least one of Damien’s videos). Said Drew:

In 2010, I felt like I had hit a brick wall with music. I’d been touring nonstop and trying to make a living playing music for at least 6 years straight. [This is where I started thinking "wait, this guy can't be 13 . . ."] Music was no longer fun. It was filled with pressure and expectation. And more than anything, I really wanted to enjoy making music again. To go back to the beginning and to start again.

So I created a character named Damien Fairchild, to write songs through, similar to a method actor. . . .

It’s a fine line between sharing your music with others and maintaining your privacy and I guess I’ll never have both. But I am happy to be making music again, and I can only hope there are some people out there who are happy about it, too.

Well played, Drew. I do feel a little blindsided, but in the end I think I can say I haven’t lost a great story about a precocious young songwriter, but rather gained a new friend – not to mention an artist with a very deep back catalog to check out – in Drew Danburry.

The For All the Girls album will still be released this Valentine’s Day, as far as I know, and I’m still looking forward to hearing it.