I wrote the music to “Stalemaeting” sometime back in late 2003 or maybe early 2004. The melancholy/grinding chord progression heard in the verses came to me one morning (or early afternoon, not sure which) after a night of heavy drinking and the bad decisions which come with such an experience. I was feeling somewhat ashamed over my loss of control, so I had originally entitled the tune “Shame Spiral” after an early lyric I wrote to accompany the tune. (Which were later lost and forgotten.) The chords for the intro and chorus evolved naturally around the verse and very quickly I had a new piece to bring to band practice.
At the time I was in a post punk/noise band called “Here To Kill You”, and we were beginning to experiment with an all acoustic set which we dubbed our alter ego. We adapted “Stalemaeting” into this new alter ego, but it never quite fit comfortably as just a plain ‘ole acoustic song. It wasn’t long before “Stalemaeting” slipped back into our original set, except this time on baritone guitar. It became a slow noisy ballad, where the lead guitar (if you could call it that) was an improvised heavily effected and distorted riff played using an empty vodka nip instead of a proper slide. You could say that beer goggles also applies to music, because I can’t tell you how many thirty racks of PBR we went through before we decided that this was a good idea. I don’t even remember what the vocals sounded like.
Eventually “Here To Kill You” dissolved into that inevitable place that bands go to when they die, and so it seemed “Stalemaeting” with it. Sometime last year in my unemployed solitude I began fooling around with the tune and decided that I still liked it. I figured with a little love and attention it could bloom into a halfway decent song. I wrote out some new lyrics and began to apply a new melody to sing over the chords, but still wasn’t satisfied with what I had come up with. I looked for guidance from my former HTKY band mates who were now spread throughout the country.
I first sent my newer version of the tune through the tubes of the internet all the way from Rhode Island to Texas, where Shana was able to add backup vocals that blended masterfully into the music. From Texas the song travelled back North to the Bronx where my favorite bard, Curtis, added lyrics and much improved upon vocals, which in my opinion make the song. And so the song travelled from Rhode Island, New York, and Texas a few more times being tweaked a bit here and there until you get the version that we now have today. Please enjoy what we have created.
Stalemaeting, by C. Evans/J. Partridge
Do you know
Ouroboros, flies in the night.
And the circle and the circle and the circle
Goes dark to light
And the candle in the mayhem
And the discord in the heart
And the endless rocking
Of our pirate ship
And the flame that curls that curls that curls
From the murky deep
And I want nothing
And I is nothing
She said goodbye, I’ve found another lie
You see for me it’s time
So I move on
Pay fines, Move pawns
Plant seeds, for weeds
To grow like me
beCause I will die, and another guy (effect)
I’ve grow like me, to replant my seed
And I want nothing
And I is nothing
I’ll fly
through the night
cause I miss you
And I’ll sing and I’ll sing all of your names
And I’d sacrifice
Everything for some peace
And I’d release us
From any doubt or fear or glee.
“I have to let you go.” The simple yet extremely effective phrase bounced off Gus’s insides, upsetting his poor nauseated guts. It was the last thing he had expected, and wanted to hear from Brandon. The two had worked together for nearly three years now, climbing the ladder at the local “Progressives Protecting Water” office. Countless campaigns had been won together, and the two had received top honors as organizers at the most recent national conference. Last year Brandon had been promoted to Director when the previous director was fired, and since then Gus had worked tirelessly as Brandon’s right hand man helping him turn the Providence office into one of the most successful offices the organization had ever seen.
He felt like he had just been stabbed in the back, used, and fully exploited comparable to the infantry soldier acting as cannon fodder on the battlefield. The difference was this wasn’t the Marines, it was the environmental movement, and people just shouldn’t be thrown away like this.
“No!” Gus heard himself squeak out in futile attempt to stop the inevitable.
“I’m sorry, but the only things I need from you are your keys to the office.” Was the response he got.
“What a cold, heartless, bastard.” Gus thought to himself. How could Brandon be doing this to me? He sat there staring into space hoping that he would wake from this horrible nightmare, but it never happened, because he had never fallen asleep. This was the real world, and he was getting canned. Then it dawned on him, that he hadn’t even been given a reason for his termination. After a moment of awkward, deafening silence he asked, “What am I being fired for?”
“There are a lot of different reasons, but the truth is I’m not required to tell you by State law. All I can say is that your services will no longer be needed here.” So it was going to be like that. No explanation, just simply turn in your keys and go.
“Look Brandon man, if this is about me being late I can fix that.”
“Ya know Gus, I want to help you out here, but I feel like I’ve given you enough chances as is. It’s one thing for you to be showing up late all the time looking like a crack head who just rolled out of bed, but when it happened every day while the regional director was here last week…that’s just too much. I can’t cover your ass when you’re messing up right in front of my boss.” Gus’s head swam with ideas on how he could get himself out this situation.
“Maybe you can write me up and suspend me for a week without pay?”
“I can’t. I just got off the phone with headquarters, and they want you gone.”
“This isn’t right.” Gus protested. “After all we’ve have been through, building up the office, I feel like it’s just as much mine as it is yours.”
“You’re absolutely right, but the simple fact is I want to get ahead in this world. To do that you have to keep moving and I can’t keep moving if I’m carrying a bunch of dead weight around. No one is irreplaceable.” The words cut deep into Gus, causing far greater harm than drug withdrawals ever could. He knew that those words weren’t Brandon’s. He was just repeating the line that was fed to him from his boss, the regional director. Gus realized that this was the difference between him and Brandon. Brandon was always willing to guzzle buckets of the company cool aid, while Gus had always been more apprehensive when it came to the organizations policies, particularly those policies enacted from the regional director, and that was exactly why he was being fired. He could not be controlled and manipulated by anything or anyone.
The thought ignited a new sense of power from within him that in turn received its’ fuel from the anger that seethed over his body. “Stay cool.” Gus thought to himself. “I’m the real top dog around here, the alpha male, and I ain’t gonna let no one get under this skin.” But before he knew it he was spitting.
“You’re a fucking puppet poser, green washed, fake ass activist.” Brandon stared back with a white faced, almost scared look about him. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and likewise Gus couldn’t believe he was saying it. He stood up out of his seat, and hovered over Brandon, accusingly pointing his finger directly in his former employers face. “Have fun operating your little fucking pyramid scheme without me, we’ll see how fucking successful you are. You don’t even know what real activist do…” he went on. “You think that because some yuppie housewife writes you a check for twenty-five bucks that you can save the world? Fuck you!” He bellowed with as much mockery and sarcasm as he could muster. He began to laugh hysterically and for a moment, he didn’t know if would be able to stop.
By now the pair had caused a scene. Even through closed doors, Gus became aware of the silence that had engulfed the office as everyone forgot about their present tasks and strained to listen to what was happening from within Brandon’s office. For sure the news would be a shock to everyone. It was no secret except maybe to Brandon, that Gus was the real inspiration within the office. It was for reasons like this you were supposed to fire people at the end of the week, as opposed to on a Monday, right before the shift starts.
Now a sick feeling was coming from Brandon’s stomach, as he thought of the ripple effect this termination was causing. He had to get Gus out of there, and fast before any more drama could be caused. He was on track to raise a half-million dollars this year which in turn lead to a very sizable bonus for himself, but he could kiss it all goodbye if he had an office full of un-motivated canvassers on his hands that suddenly stopped making their quotas. Presently with Gus being fired he would have a lot more responsibility to shoulder on his own, and he swallowed hard as the realization hit him.
Now his thoughts raced for a way to end this showdown, but before he could think of what to do Gus was sliding his office keys off the carabineer which hung from one of his belt loops. Relieved, Brandon held out his hand as to accept the keys from him, but instead just as Gus was about to hand them over, he threw them in the trash barrel next to Brandon’s desk where they landed in a leftover container of ranch dressing. Gus was already moving towards the door, and as he was slamming it shut behind him he yelled back, “I’ll fucking show you what real activists do!” and then he was gone. Brandon just sat there for a moment looking at the keys; the keys to HIS office, laying in the trash covered in leftover ranch dressing, and couldn’t help but notice the symbolism that Gus had intended. A dreary, dark feeling of depression washed over him like the ranch dressing seeping over the keys in the wastebasket, and for the first time ever, Brandon had doubts about his job.
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Well, I came up to Rhode Island on June 21st for a 10 day vacation and have decided to stay for the summer. I’ll be without my car and my dog for a couple of months. In the last 10 days that I’ve been here I have done more than I’ve done in the last year I’ve been in Texas. Going out for brunch at Julian’s, dinners at Local 121 and Garden Grille. A weekend in a suite at the Biltmore. We helped out a designer for the Providence Fashion Week that took place at the Biltmore. I met up with Aaron at AS220 to check out some live music and spent the rest of the night with Rochelle and friends at Tazza. Rochelle brought the party back to our suite Friday night. The sun was coming up by the time we went to bed. I had a CWA Reunion at Lauren and Kristen’s Sunday evening. I had a wonderful time seeing everyone and laughing and the food was delicious!
I’m very excited about the chance to make music with Jeff and Rochelle, again. It’s been way too long. Who knows…maybe we’ll play a show while I’m here.
Part I
I’m heading to Providence this Sunday. I’ll get to visit with good friends. It’s been a few years since my last visit. I’m looking forward to the weather, visiting some old haunts, playing music, swimming at Carr Pond, and lots of organic food! I have a lot of memories of Rhode Island…some really intensely bad ones and some amazingly good ones. Having lived in RI has changed my life forever. It was quite the culture shock when I first arrived from Texas. A much faster pace than I was used to. I started off living and working in the historic hotel, The Ocean House, in Watch Hill. That place was certainly a world of its own. Many late nights on the beach or just hanging out in one of the employees’ rooms partaking in some serious tomfoolery. I will share more about that summer soon…
The American people are losing the battle for their country and they don’t even know it. Corporate bailouts, followed by bankruptcies are the new trend in stealing public funds. It is slowly and deliberately bankrupting the America economy. Don’t let them fool you into thinking it is more complicated than that. The majority of us know how to balance a check book, or at least understand the general principles involved in doing so. So I’m confident that the people who really make the decisions for these companies understand how to do so as well.
The distribution of wealth is the biggest problem that plagues the people of this planet. Right now the United States is undergoing a hostile takeover just like it would happen to a corporation. First they “borrow” tax payer money, then they distribute the funds amongst themselves, next they go bankrupt in order to avoid paying it back, finally they cut your job to ensure that their profits continue to climb.
When you control the majority of the wealth within an entity, you also control which policies are implemented by that entity whether it be a country or a corporation. Do you want these few disgustingly rich pigs to decide how the U.S. is governed? They are few and we are many.
Mr. Pranayama
He enjoys pulling the stuffing out of his toys, long walks on the beach, and midnight snacking.
