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Oracles 6: Rosin and horsehair

2/21/2012

Fan art by Tong Zhou

LYRICS
(by Andrew Lee)

My canteen is full of candour.
but that’s something I cannot contain
I had fun when you had me once
but your cup is downed and drained

I know I’m a wild young thing
dark horse that no man can tame
I had fun when you let me run
but you couldn’t grasp the reins

you had me once in those thirty months
you had me once in those thirty months

all the weed that you could muster
our conversations so sedate
I had fun when you showed me once
but I miss your sober face

All our fields were fit and fickle
but you took your sickle to make hay
I had fun when you had me once
but you left our fallowed plain

you had me once in those thirty months
you had me once in those thirty months

It came down to you or the fiddle
and I chose wisely I chose fair
There was no room to meet in the middle
so I chose the rosin and horse hair

you had me once in those thirty months
you had me once in those thirty months

It came down to you or the fiddle
and I chose wisely I chose fair
There was no room to meet in the middle
so I chose the rosin and horse hair
credits

As we see our songs grow and change, we often forget their humble beginnings. For our song Rosin and Horsehair, we meticulously saved and recorded all the versions of this song, from a honky-tonk MIDI file to the final mastered product. Doing this, we came to appreciate how much work we put into the song after each step.

Here it is! Please follow along with the description below while you listen this compilation. Hint: whenever you hear a hawk screeching, that signifies a change in version!

Rosin and Horsehair: A Compilation of All Versions by The Ruffled Feathers

0:00 – 0:05 – Final Mastered Introduction
0:05 – 0:13 – Original Version in Sibelius
0:13 – 0:28 – MIDI Version in Logic
0:28 – 0:59 – Scratch Track
0:59 – 1:37 – Roughly Mixed Version
1:37 – 2:10 – Revised Mixed Version
2:10 – 2:54 – Final Mixed Version
2:54 – 3:41 – Final Mastered Version

…and now just to reiterate, here all all the versions in chronological order again.

3:41 – 3:49 - Original Version in Sibelius
3:49 – 3:57 - MIDI Version in Logic
3:57 – 4:05 - Scratch Track
4:05 – 4:13 – Roughly Mixed Version
4:13 – 4:20 - Final Mixed Version
4:20 – end – Final Mastered Version

Hope you had fun listening to the different versions this song has endured.

-Andrew

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oracles 5: blueprints for our failed revolution

2/21/2012

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LYRICS
(by Charley Wu)

Tell me visions of the fall
Say, "Brothers and Sisters let's stand tall!"
Well we had a plan--it was right,
It was right, it was right.
We thought we knew the Heart of Man.

Poverty and destitution brings,
An army of soldiers that can't sing.
Well give me your hand--they're crying
And dying to no end...
History will bury all my friends.

Obstacles, obstacles,
They're laying barricades of Soviet-made
Disposable, oracles
We're taking to the streets
Marching to defeat!

It was a blueprint for
Our failed revolution!
Blueprints for
Our failed revolution!
It was a blueprint for
Our failed revolution!
Blueprints for
Our failed revolution!

You may remember this image from the music video for this song, where it made a brief appearance shortly before it was set on fire.

Despite the short amount of screen time, this is an illustration that took my good friend Mike Ellis a whole week to complete.

Last spring, he came to Vancouver to visit a girl, but in a classic story of heartbreak, he was locked out of her apartment, and spent a night sleeping on the floor of a bank. He finally got in touch with me (Charley) the next morning and stayed at with me instead, during which time he realized he didn’t even like her anyways.

While showing Mike around town, I told him my idea for the blueprint and he agreed to draw it. Though the original was burned during filming, Matty had a chance to photograph the 36×36 blueprint with a medium format camera before the shoot. After spending many many hours on photoshop, we can finally present you with The Blueprint in all its glory. Now you can have this sweet image on your very own T-shirt for $15, including a digital copy of Oracles.

The concepts wired into the blueprint are meant to reference an earlier age of scholars who thought they had discovered the natural necessities of human development. ”We have mapped out the human soul, and so it must be”, they said. They thought the success of their revolutions inevitable, and their motives common across all peoples of the Earth. What is the lesson to be learned from them?

There is something called the “Principle of Revolution” from an old, old book called the Dao De Jing. I want to talk about it, but first, let me put on my robe and wizard hat.

Somewhere on the internet, there's a picture of the whole band dressed as wizards

The Dao De Jing was written at a time when civilization was in decline and it seemed like the best of days were already in the past. There is a reference made to a tilting vessel (Ch. 9), that sits on a hinge underneath a constant spring of water. At the moment when the cup fills completely, the weight of the water makes it turn on its hinge and empty out all of its contents. Once empty, it springs back up, to be filled once more. This is the Principle of Revolution (反 fǎn). If you try too hard to reach one extreme, you will soon find yourself at its opposite. To revolve is the way of the universe.

"The injured will be made whole,
And the crooked will be straightened.
Emptiness will be made full,
And that which is broken will be remade.
The poor will be made wealthy,
And the wealthy will be deluded." (Ch. 22)

This is a philosophy that has been used by generals and artists, by kings and their prisoners. Not only do opposites tend towards each other, they rely on each other for their own existence, linguistically and metaphysically. ”The good are the teachers of the bad, and the bad provide means for the good.” (Ch. 27)

On the blueprint, you’ll find many dualistically opposing terms, such as empathy/greed and fate/freedom. These are all aspects of our human nature and connected through the complexities of our psyche. There will be no triumph of one side of our nature over the other, because if one side is destroyed, the other will in itself have no more meaning. Those who ruthlessly try to bring salvation to the World through blind ambition will only accomplish the opposite. These failed oracles of society think their cup full, but in turning around to show the world, the cup has emptied once more and they are left with nothing.

Note: All passages from the Dao De Jing are translated by Charley Wu from the original classical chinese. Yes I am a nerd who spent a whole summer learning a dead language while my friends were hanging out at the beach. Deal with it.

- Charley

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Oracles 4: Dark shorelines

2/6/2012

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LYRICS
(by Matty Jeronimo)

All the small towns
On the shorelines
Two shadows
On the cliffside

And a lone car
On the brown rocks
Black water
Red on my side

It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light

And the small towns
On the black bay
Nothing moving
All is quiet

And the seabirds
In the slate sky
Guide the cold wind
Back to my side

It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light

But we wake up
From a long dream
And an old song
Floats over the water

It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light
It’s just a trick of the light

It’s just at trick of the light!

LORD ANTHONY

A short story
By Charley Wu

Illustrations by Megan Stiver

Lord Anthony is a seven year old boy who lives in a stone house. His house and his realm rest gently on a cliff that overlooks the shores of the Pacific Ocean. The height of this cliff is equal to the precise distance an acorn falls in eleven seconds. Lord Anthony has timed it himself, he assures me.

He lives alone with his father, a Dr. Winston Lord. Anthony’s father isn’t the type of doctor that takes care of the sick. Rather, he is the type that sits around in his study, smoking all day, and smelling like scotch. He is retired now, and sometimes mentions the royalties he receives for a book published a very long time ago. Dr. Lord’s hobbies include:

- Symmetry
- Scotch
- Learning to mimic the bird calls of migratory fowl
- Conducting experiments with kites to disprove the “Global Warming” conspiracy
- Ignoring Anthony

Anthony doesn’t mind being left alone all of the time. He is a very important person after all. Although he is often obligated to help his father with his drunken experiments, every other moment, he is Lord Anthony: ruler of the vast expanses of his territory. The ancient pine forests that surround the house are his. The vegetable garden is his. The soft meadow overlooking the cliff is his. Yet he often looks, with a state of melancholy unbefitting such a young boy, down onto the sandy beaches at the bottom of the cliffs. This stretch of golden mystery–each little rock potentially hiding treasure troves of soft shell crabs, sand dollars, and curious flotsam–is beyond his reach. Though the beaches appear so close, there are no roads or paths that connect them to Lord Anthony’s world. If only he could transport himself onto one of the brightly colored sailboats that he sees through his father’s telescope.

One day, as he was wrapping up one of his father’s kites after a day of failed experiments, Anthony asked, “how come no boats ever land on our beach?”

“What use have they for such a silly, pointless beach?” replied Dr. Lord as he simultaneously took a sip of scotch while lighting a cigarette. ”They have more important things to do.”

In reality, he had no idea why their beach was so desultory. However, two notable disasters in the late 19th century had given it the nickname “Wreck Beach” among sailors of the Pacific. Since then, rumors of Hydras and sea Kraken have dissuaded anyone from visiting Anthony’s beach. One day many years from now, a new variety of giant squid will be discovered to inhabit only the coastal waters off the shores of that beach. They will be found living inside the ruined husk of a centuries old shipwreck in a highly organized society. By chance, the lead scientist will be named Stuart Anthony, and the new variety of cephalopods will be given the nomenclature “Anthony’s squid”. The World is full of incomprehensible surprises such as this.

Lord Anthony’s favorite day of the week is Wednesday, because it is on this day that he takes violin lessons from an elderly Japanese man named Hatsuki Matsumoto. He is Anthony’s closest neighbor, located about 2 miles to the south along an old deer path through the woods. He rides his bike, a deep tan colored steed named Svetlana. Once, when Mr. Matsumoto was a small child, he was a violin virtuoso, even playing concerts for the Emperor of Japan. Tragically, his career was cut short when an earthquake hit a concert hall in Kyoto where he was playing. The falling rubble severely injured the boy, leaving him blind and paralyzed. He was 15 years old. Today, Matsumoto Sensei lives with his daughter Penelope, a vibrant little seamstress who always greets Anthony with warm soup and a hug.

Matsumoto is a patient man, who has great faith in Anthony. Because he is blind, they do not use sheet music, clefs, or notation. There is already a lifetime of music inside his graying head, which he is able to whistle the finest precision. This is how Anthony learns to play. Matsumoto Sensei selects a tune and delicately whistles it for his student, who with youthful eagerness plays it back on his violin. There is no talk about mistakes or wrong notes, because these are obvious. Rather, Matsumoto directs Anthony’s spirit.

“To be a great artist,” Matsumoto always says, “you must be willing pull out your own heart and bare it for the audience. With music, everything is transparent. All of your sins, your hopes, and your dreams spill out. Find your peace Anthony, and then you will be great.”

But Anthony is not at peace. There is a great restlessness inside of him. He has already explored every mystery and wonder in his realm. He is a kind and gentle Lord over all the creatures, critters, and citizens of the forest, the garden, and the meadow. Yet, he wants more. Only the universe is equal to his vast appetite for discovery. He is already 7 years old, a venerable and wise ruler, yet he has never once swum in the ocean. He longs for the gentle lull of the waves to wash over his tiny, stately feet. But the beach of his dreams lies at the bottom of an incomprehensible abyss–beyond the cliff-edge where his world ends.

On a rainy day of indoor treasure hunting, Lord Anthony finds a book with the story of Icarus. A brilliant idea begins to hatch as he prepares a series of blueprints to embark on the greatest adventure of his lifetime. Having learned from the tragic demise of Icarus, Anthony decides to embark at night, when there will be no burning sun to tempt him. Armed with the boldest crayon blueprint ever conceived, he spends a week making the necessary preparations.

In the shed is an extraordinarily large kite painted with a terrific picture of a Horned Owl, which Lord Anthony nicknamed “Mordecai”. It was once part of his father’s experiments, but because of the size, it was impossible to fly with one hand free for his glass of scotch, as was his custom. Rather than change his habits, Winston Lord abandoned this kite in favor of smaller ones, which were more conducive to his rampant alcoholism.

Anthony spent a full week gathering stray feathers from the forest, which he affixed to the surface of the kite. Two flashlights attached to the top of his yellow bicycle helmet will allow him to see at night. Then, with some adjustments to the wooden framework, he made handholds, and flaps so he can steer with his feet. One last minute addition allowed him to stow his violin and a blanket under the frame. And so, Anthony quelled his impatience, and waited, for a clear night and a gently passed out father, to set sail and embark.

* * * * * * * * *

Tonight, it just happens, all the necessary conditions are perfect. The customized kite has gone unnoticed all week. There is a full moon in the sky, and Dr. Winston Lord is quietly snoring on the floor of his study beside an empty bottle of scotch. Anthony goes over his pre-flight checklist with a bold red crayon, ensuring that nothing will go wrong. Everything is ready to go and a slight shiver of excitement runs down his spine.
He drags the kite into the back of the vegetable garden, knocking down a row of peonies, though he hardly notices. The runway is a clear, straight 200 meters to the edge. This is the only part of his plan that has gone unpracticed. He will have to rely upon his royal luck—his life depends upon it. Lord Anthony dons Mordecai and hops onto the seat of Svetlana. He can feel the added weight and wind resistance. Anthony must achieve critical velocity before he reaches the edge of the cliff. Then, he must brake suddenly, and literally fly off of his bike.

He stoically turns on his headlights and listens as Mordecai’s feathers ruffle in the wind. “Pfffffffffffthhhh. Pffffthh.” He begins to pedal and struggles to keep the bike going straight.

100 metres to go and still not enough speed. Anthony’s breathing speeds up and his little heart begins to pump faster and faster.
50 metres to go and he can feel the lift under his wings. Faster still, and the air seems to strip him of all earthly weight. He is pure lightness and pure being now, and he is going to wait until the last possible second.

10 metres….

5….

1….

Lord Anthony pulls the brakes as hard as his tiny hands are able, and leaps off of Svetlana. The air flows quickly under the kite and he is shot straight into the void of night. He grabs ahold of the kite and fears the worst. He falls quickly and suddenly, nose first. Mordecai plunges down the face of the cliff, trailing behind a wake of poorly glued feathers. The wind is powerful, and forces little tears up the corners of his eyes. Anthony screams into the abyss, not out of terror anymore, but sheer excitement.

* * * * * * * * *

Then, out of nowhere, as if an invisible hand grabbed him from the clutches of oblivion, the kite buoys up. The free-fall is over, and Lord Anthony is now in control of Mordecai. He tests his steering, first left, than right, and is relieved by its effectiveness. The powerful flashlights on top of his curious head scan the unexplored wilderness of night.

Suddenly, Anthony sees a flock of tiny reddish-orange Owls hunting by moonlight. The birds could easily fit into his tiny hands. Who knew such strange creatures existed! They spot Mordecai—dozens of little red eyes flashing in panic–and then make their escape, filling the air with a chorus of “eep! eep! eep!”.

Like a feverish gust of wind, the tiny Strange Owls carried Anthony and Mordecai far out into the open air of the ocean currents, well beyond the borderlands of little Anthony’s dreams. Higher and higher—these yet undiscovered migratory owls lifted them—up into the upper limits of the stratosphere as they began their bicentennial circumnavigation of the globe.

These tiny Strange Owls could never survive this majestic trip if it weren’t for their mysterious knowledge of jet streams and atmospheric phenomena. On only a tiny stomach full of insects and fruit, these wild-eyed owls carried Anthony and Mordecai on a dizzying tour of the world. When it was all over, the Strange Owls dropped out of the skies and descended on the Amazon jungles of Brazil to begin a frenzied feast of tiny owl fruits.

However, Anthony and Mordecai were nowhere to be found on land or in the sea. They were left floating far above in the upper-reaches of the atmosphere—a tiny, winged figure stranded in an endless sky. At the mercy of the fierce polar jets, he became a ghost on feathered pinions, blown countless times around the world. If it was night on the ground below, the light from his helmet made him appear to those below as if he were a shooting star or some sort of celestial body.

Listen. If conditions are just perfect and the night is just still enough, we can hear Lord Anthony playing his little violin from on high. Like a lost balloon, he wanders the skies, and sometimes graces us with the presence of his music.

THE END

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oracles 3: lead me to destruction

2/6/2012

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LYRICS
(by Charley Wu)

What do you do (Oh Lord!)
When she don’t love you? (No she don’t)
I’ve burned all my bridges (All of my roads)
Set fire to my memories too (too)

And I’ll still hold on (hold on)
To all of your things (all of your things)
The ashes of your beauty (of your beauty)
Haunt my dreams

So don’t you
Lead me to destruction
It happens all the time
When you come to mind

And I’ll climb thousands of mountains, walk deserts alone
Brave the waves of the sea, for my sins I’ll atone
Miss the fire in your eyes, I used to see every night
But if there’s hope for my soul, then I’d better, I’d better go

Leave my troubles, behind
Cause sometimes
There’s still love, love, love
In your eyes

Darling have you heard my voice
It rings out
Even Louder
Than before

By the light of the moon (full moon)
Always there’s temptation (ahhhhhh)
A desire to believe (to believe)
You could lead me to salvation (ohhhhhh!)

And I'll still hold on (hold on)
To all of your things (all of your things)
The ashes of your beauty (of your beauty)
Haunting my dreams

For this song, I asked my friend Monika to help me make three illustrations. The concept was to make (anti) Valentine’s cards that are actually truthful, with messages carrying all the ambiguity, uncertainty, and complexity of a real romantic situation.

”Be my Valentine’s” means nothing. ”You can lead me to destruction” means a whole lot more.

- Charley

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