Behind the song "Under the Blue of the Moon"

“Under the Blue of the Moon” tells the story of a post-apocalyptic joy ride, capturing a youthful freedom that comes with relinquishing conventionality, while simultaneously highlighting our human fallibility and innate desire to connect deeply. 

In this song, two soulmates are separated in the desert while travelling the treacherous highway of life. They both head towards a rich jungle oasis, witnessing society crumble around them, knowing they shouldn’t wait to be saved. The mantra “there is love in honour, and honour in love” carries them forward. Whether in this life or the next they have vowed to meet again at the pearly white gates of the Getty museum where they will live in rapture like benevolent jungle queens. 

“Under the Blue of the Moon”

We chase all the fear that’s chasing us

Under the blue of the moon, we repeat it’s tune

We fly down the city streets at night

Freedom’s catch twenty two, by the time it’s noon

We move to the groove  - of the final days

Creatures brought bare - by desire and longing

Championed by those - who refuse despair 

Where there is hope there still is something

There is love in honour, and honour in love…

There is love in honour, and honour in love…

Our house, it was once devout

And every prayer that was paid, was enough to be saved

Don’t wait, I will find my way to you

One day we’ll see through the haze of the world we set ablaze

We move to the groove  - of the final days

Creatures brought bare - by desire and longing

Championed by those - who refuse despair 

Where there is hope there still is something

There is love in honour, and honour in love…

There is love in honour, and honour in love…

Behind the song "Revisions"

The song “Revisions” is about experiencing gaslighting. Parts of the song describe the innate beauty observable in a person, while others allude to their darkness, mutability, and ability to manipulate. As a listener, it is easy to catch red flags from outside in quiet creepy sections, “You wanted to keep the control, you said you loved me, said we were chasing the gold, but your eyes, they stayed shaded”. It is clear though, a self-questioning persists, alongside a desire to uncover where things went wrong, to understand pivotal moments of change, or revise the past to capture it’s meaning. The answers however, are in the hands of the gaslighter, and we witness a tragic self-doubt leading to insanity “I fold over revision, revision, revision, revision… and in each version I ask what could have been”...

“Revisions” was featured on CBC’s Saturday Night Jazz; likened to songs by Radiohead or Massive Attack. As a creator I would be remiss if I didn’t highlight some of my favourite collaborative happenings which took place in the creation of “Revisions”. The first involved musical contributions from Chris Dadge, who amped up the creepiness of the quiet sections with eerie percussive textures. As well, Graham Lessard delivered on Brock Geiger’s vision to enter the track on vibes. When this song landed in Pam Tzeng’s choreographic hands, she embodied all the feels, somehow combining confusion, tragedy, evil, despair, and insanity. This was matched by the editing stylings of Landon Johnson who leaned into a “Suspiria” like colour palette, then timed and layered takes to build a narrative journey. I am so lucky that my co-creators bring joy to the darkest subject matters, helping me move towards positive resolution.

Revisions

Changed like a reptile in the shifting light

Tongue unravelling new illusions

Were these true colours, or was I deceived 

Did they just pop, against your new backdrop

I fold over revision ...

And in each version I ask what could have been 

You wanted to keep the control 

You said you loved me 

Said we were chasing the gold

But your eyes, they stayed shaded

To go back to the pause 

In the quiet snow 

I remember what your love was

Soft in the cold

A broken smile

Gentle hands 

You were just a man

You wanted to keep the control 

You said you loved me 

Said we were chasing the gold

But your eyes, they stayed shaded

I fold over revision ...

And in each version I ask what could have been

Behind the song “Stars Still Dying”

The summer my father died, the sky outside turned to a red dome layered by a hazy gray ash blown in from forest fires, and although so many other challenging times lurked in future timelines, in that moment it felt as though the world was ending. 

One question I pondered was “How long do you stay to honour a dream?”

Life is strange in this way. We don't enter, leave, or cycle on the same timeline as our loved ones. We are also tremendously lucky if we leave life with all of its external forces aligning so that we can obtain a personal sense of completion. I wondered how my father felt about what he was leaving behind, and if he had been able to accomplish what his heart desired. 

In the hospital a transition between us happened. We connected less and less in the physical, and we bound together within layers unseen. It is in that lush deep green garden where we combine energy, sometimes revisiting old memories and sometimes the new. When I return from this shared dream space it is as though a veil of smoke has been lifted. There is a shift in the quality of air, and it reminds me of the incense I burned for him that night by the river, while the sky grew dark, helping the stars to shine. 

“Stars Still Dying” is a love song for my father, exalting simultaneously the depth of joy shared, the potential of love, and the recognition of what loss leaves behind. 

Stars Still Dying

The first breath is arresting

We don’t all come full circle at the turn of time

This chalice has a poisoned rim 

We sink, cognizant and comfortable

Knowing that there is no win

And the man who’s a boy can protect the impregnable

Still we all lose some days 

That’s just the way

It was as far as we had dreamed 

The garden grew deep, the incense rising

Lifted as heat to stars still dying

Gone just like magic by the morning

We couldn’t pull back the glass 

So we stood watching 

Our eyes projecting the past

Lenses of love, of longing

To be aware is to tread with care

Resting in the pain you’re living

It was as far as we had dreamed 

The garden grew deep, the incense rising

Lifted as heat to stars still dying

Gone just like magic by the morning

How long do you stay, to honour a dream

to honour a dream

* these are the longform lyrics, matching the full length track on the album

Hazy Days - Lyrics Explained

Have you ever known, the instant you met someone, that you were profoundly connected? Without uttering words, your aura’s interlock into a familiar pattern, one you couldn’t have conceived existed before that moment? Time stands still, and something metaphysical shifts as you sink into the depths of each other’s eyes, and together you are transported to a space not bound by human dimensions. 

“Hazy Days” is a retelling of that experience, once clear, but now only a remembrance. The song is an acknowledgement that we are not always able to stay connected within each lifetime. We are each on a journey larger than we can control or conceive. But sometimes, if we are lucky, special moments allow us to trace the spaces between our fingers while our palms are pressed together. In this way we feel and remember what it is to be mirrored, understood, cherished, and forgotten. Each experience of love is a gift, no matter how transient. 

During the second verse, I imagine the tailors of time embodied by wise deities in the original gardens. I envision them spinning the tapestry of fate from delicate spider web timelines. The lovers in this song are creatures entangled in one version of a lifetime, but through their tears they glimpse the mirage of the archaic garden before them, where their origin story began. For a moment they glimpse an alternate outcome, the version in which fate unfolds in their favour and they are not divided by circumstance, but another cycle through reality pulls them apart, their souls waiting to connect again in the ultimate timeline. 

Hazy Days is a brief flash of summers past, and I hope the listener is transported to a nostalgic moment they would like to remember.

Fear & Desire

before i enter i collect

what small desire i had left

scattered into corners of the room

overlooked, no longer novel 

before i leave i collect

the remnants of what i had left 

the feelings i once had 

shifting shapes of shared beauty

i take stock now, i always do

habits built from fears of leaving

i don't want to forget

the precious left within my memory

A grey film lines the tv 

dust blown up like a smoke screen

filtering the incessant pitch 

that “the new is naturally better”

but my heart has no eyes

it squeezes its feeling

holds its desire

it runs the divotted path again

the billionth time

in the dark

the heart knows what it wants

even awake it lives in dreams

The New Neon - Clea Anaïs

In every moment you carry it around

a reminder to me

Perhaps I have been so honest with you

you can’t conceive I have secrets anymore

you don’t pause to inquire

maybe you just can’t care

Erasure of our happiness has occurred

the simple times and simple love

overshadowed by the grandiose

the neon new, explicit in the darkness

In the wasteland that was our life

your voice descends from your dream

I hear it through the grey

I watch the skies changing

I stand here seeing

planted deep in solid ground

You mock my offerings

and the embers, I watch them burn through me

I want reminders, printed on soft skin

While you whistle

I ingest the pain

pinning my eyes wide

ICE RINK - Clea Anaïs

I never saw this path

This dew drop from the ether

Landing, invading, spreading. 

That the air would clear

Or that I could exalt 

A happy sigh again

You linger still

A smoke screen, 

a filter of agony, not romance

On hard days I breathe sharply

But the balance is swaying

It’s a fresh spring day in the park

The swings creek, the ice has become glossy

As kids we used to race laps in our bare feet

on the outdoor rink as it melted

I felt pain long before your time

and I never quit those races

I guess we were training

Wearing out our tender skin

while learning how to laugh again

We would hurtle onto the side-bank snow

Bellies to the air 

Clasping our pink soles

In those fragmented seconds

somehow losers and winners

Deep in childhood freedom

Nincompoops full of grace