One of the final scenes in ‘Cry, Desert’ sees Miles and Ramsey completely overwhelmed by the impact of the combined mystical and natural forces that Ayita commands so gracefully. The Narrator delivers the powerful sequence against a spectacular backdrop of volatile seas and hurricane force winds.

“A cyclone is building. Ramsey has set the immense sphere into motion; greedily and tortuously consuming the atmosphere at Ayita’s behest. Its turbulent vacuum, driven by radiated celestial heat, collides the water molecules with such force that they are expelled to the furthest reaches of the globe; weakened and fractured, awaiting one final lambaste before surrendering their refuge. Waves cresting hundreds of feet in the air pile relentlessly upon one another, slamming with unforgiving power into the unyielding shore. Saltwater spray plumes into the air, suffocating and blinding Miles and Ramsey as they fall to the ground, visibly shaken, shielding their faces from the dust and debris. As they crawl to the feet of Ayita, clutching and clawing frantically at the crumbling cliff face lest they be tossed into the maelstrom far below, the group is enclosed in a whirling vortex of sound, propelling itself ever skyward, releasing incalculable amounts of earth bound energy into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The sounds that had so recently been presented as threatening and unnerving, now engulfed Miles; wrapping him in a warm blanket of symphonic ecstasy. Wild explosions of dissonance were now consoled by a wondrous, ethereal elegy as the primal screams embedded in noise and harmony for millennium combined to create a dense and magnificent crescendo.”

And it is from this sequence that we have been spurred to give much more thought to the multi-dimensional, graphical presentation of the characters. As with all of us, the layers of personality are many, and some remain hidden for large parts of our lives. In getting to grips with how we might express this changeability, we are working to visually incorporate the ‘mood swings’ of the project into several sequences. With Miles, for instance (as you can see from the graphic presented here), we have brought to bear the connection between his journey and the natural world (in this case, the ocean). It’s an exciting breakthrough creatively and I’m sure we’ll mine it for all it’s worth.

Imagine you are in this audience. Witness to a magical story; united with others. Your life alone is special – in a community it is eternal. A shared emotion is a powerful motivational force. Beijing, Sydney, Sao Paulo, Paris, Barcelona, Mexico City, Toronto – cities with a heartbeat. Our first ports of call.

(pictured on the right) Donald Leroy Warford – Happy Birthday, Dad

I remember my father mostly by the questions I never asked him. The man that was known to me held no more surprises, but the man I had yet to discover had blazed a trail of wisdom and regret that was destined never to be shared. In our private moments we spoke as brothers, unsure of boundaries; uncertain of roles. I remember his lessons. I remember his strength. As a boy, I remember his anger. As a man, I remember his peace. Like a cool, Pacific breeze, these thoughts inspire me with the clarity of a cloudless sky.

I see an image before me. An icy winter’s day. I see the red bicycle, broken and tired from use. I hear my grandfather prompt the purchase of new machine and I hear my father’s stern reply. “No.., we’ll fix it.” A simple exchange upon which I had no tactile connection but was, nevertheless, branded deeply. A lesson of integrity? Perhaps. More likely a setting of the compass – “if you never fall…etc, etc”.

There is no emptiness when I think of my father. It is the same for all men. The shadow he casts over me cannot be denied, nor will it be exorcised. There is wisdom in the stillness and I embrace it. It is the same for all men.

Arguments prevail on both sides as to the reproductive qualities of tape Vs digital, so I won’t bother addressing that. I will, however, say that recording to tape is a far more ‘complete’ experience for the artist. Knowing that the ability to edit your performance is extremely limited (unless you are incredibly adept at slicing and glueing) adds a degree of pressure to the moment that is otherwise missing when recording digitally. This pressure can be intimidating even to the most experienced artists as a form of stage fright takes hold right before that red light goes on. Clearly there are those that handle it better than others, but for me it is the single defining difference between the quality of musical performance in contemporary music from the 60′s and 70′s against what is delivered today.

Don’t get me wrong though, I love technology; couldn’t live without it. The podcast here is an example of digital and tape living together in harmony. The backing tracks were recorded by great players using digital means and for an experiment we set up a tape machine and recorded some guitar direct to tape – no editing, no enhancing. Just a Fender guitar into a 50 watt Marshall head and one 2×12 cabinet (in another room). A little delay and overdrive coutesy of a T-Rex Replica and my trusty Boss DS-1. Played back in the studio it has a wonderful balance of old and new. Hope you enjoy.

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“I’m light and shade” (courtesy of Ry Cooder). Spring break has descended, and with that a little time to hang out and catch a breath with my girls. Obsessed as I am with the power and qualities of light stemming from so many years behind the camera, I’m watching the slow movement of the marine layer clouds as they dissipate over our house. From the southwest they slowly crawl up over the hill that sits between us and the Pacific ocean. The distance is not more than 1.5 miles as the crow flies, but the micro weather systems in play are subtle and incredibly active.

We have 7 beautiful acres here just off on Mullholland Drive, and this morning, as I was dispatched by my daughters to hang yet another tire swing, I climbed up on the hill overlooking the house and stood amongst the remnants of the fog as it was dissolving into a bright blue sky. Quaint, I know, but I’ve been on the road working solidly since I was 16 years old and sometimes the payoff is so much simpler than I would ever have expected (well, there is a slight over indulgence in cars and motorcycles, but that’s another story). So I shall sip some more coffee, fire off some Instagrams to illustrate my thoughts and track down a good solid branch for my little climbers.

Our dear friends and colleagues Leif and Aicha Boman have just completed an amazing Riad restoration in Marrakech, Morocco. You will know leif.e.boman as the world-renowned artist responsible for giving a voice to the sounds of our planet. They have labored long and hard, employing superb craftsmen and paying close attention to the smallest details. I can attest that you will not find a more relaxing or inspiring atmosphere anywhere else. Check it out here: Riad Kantarell

As writers, or creators of any art form for that matter, we can apply a great disservice to our work by explaining it too thoroughly. No matter how tempting it is to state our true convictions, the mystery of the work will be blown to smithereens if we blabber on about its hidden complexities. Anyway, discovering for oneself is so much more rewarding than being force fed a litany of random justifications, even though I have always been fascinated at how we’re often drawn to works through the most diametrically opposed worldviews.

Now, having got that out of the way, I shall shrug off all recognition and understanding for individual taste and expand verbosely on this short clip from our ‘Cry, Desert’ promo video.

Echoing my experiences with the many extraordinary individuals that work selflessly in the service of others has been extremely rewarding in writing and producing this project. So much so, that I have decided to acknowledge those brave individuals through the voice of the character ‘Miles’. This song, Will You Stand, is a way of translating my feelings for what the great risk-takers of our time endured and sacrificed along their chosen path and pose a sincere, direct question to others for upon whom this value is lost. From famous faces to the invisible heroes, to stand for something bigger than yourself is a statement of love and respect in the highest order, especially in the face of the overwhelming pressures we face.

FYI: Included in this crudely-edited clip is a portion of narration from the script – it compliments the sentiment nicely.

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I sat in a meeting recently and listened to a bunch of middle-aged buffoons dispense advice on how to effect change in our world. Aside from the glaring fact that they’d never actually ‘changed’ anything other than their rather pricey shoes, their recommendations were unbelievably heavy with crippling guidelines and impossible restrictions. The rhetoric was that of the ‘textbook’, rather than duty or unquenchable desire, and I suddenly wondered if this was how they saw the future and, for that matter, how incredibly arrogant that position is. I’ve always believed that en masse, young minds construct the future; they create/undo/destroy their own world, regardless of what the old folks dropping like flies ahead of them have built. You can only rock for so long, if you get my drift.
Change is complex and incredibly subjective, but it’s come to be glorified in its historical, unreachable context. If you’re going to engage in some work or activity and the world is in tune with you, chances are you have addressed an ‘inner’ change, and that’s a great step forward for you. You.., that is, not me, not us. But don’t confuse that with the sea change you think you’re achieving. Mother nature, history, time.., they have their own set of criteria, and ‘they’ decide when the time is right. (oh, and not without a degree of irony, the people who hate change the most are usually the people who constantly demand it).
That’s why when TED was launched a few years ago it was such a breath of fresh air – ‘ideas worth spreading’. But like rock n roll, it appears we have used up the good stuff and have been left with many vacancies. Where we used to suggest direction, now we warn of consequence. In fact, so replete of ‘naysayers’ has the TED conference become, that hoards of people now gather to be warned of approaching calamities, rather than be inspired out of them. So, reeling from a display of uninspired fear-mongering, and in a slight distraction from ‘Cry, Desert’, AND at the behest of many requests to elaborate on my portfolio, I have posted a Tumblr of case studies from my creative work for cause-related efforts. I will add more at a later date from recent work on the ground in Kazakhstan, Russia, China, New Zealand, South East Asia and northern Africa, but for now here’s a sample of what can be accomplished when you work with great people for a great cause.
And in closing, one question: Was anything ‘changed’ by the work? Absolutely, categorically…I have no idea! Why? Because it’s not up to me, or you, or them… Change is never the result of deliberation, it’s the result of time and acceptance, and no matter how much we like to convince ourselves, unfortunately rarely measurable.

Admittedly, one of the more complex undertakings for this project has been the correct incorporation of the many toolsets that are available online for curating and developing an engaging community-led experience. The challenge we face, first and foremost, is to remove ‘our’ wants from the equation. Communities develop out of a shared interest, not because it’s desirable.
I’ve seen firsthand what success in this area can generate, and also what abject failure can do to both brand and identity overall as the repercussions reserve little or no compassion for any other achievement. This, inevitably, will reflect poorly on the whole affair.

Nevertheless, it is a critical part of the overall plan and we aim to succeed. All I should say for now, cryptically, is that we are leaving no stone unturned.

An incredible opportunity to own a piece of history – a fully restored vintage Triumph Desert Racer! The very same motorcycle, as ridden by Mark Warford, that has been used in all of the film sequences produced for the ground-breaking music experience, ‘Cry, Desert’. Competition details to be released soon.

Two years ago I was quietly confident. As if looking into a deep well and seeing a faint ripple appear on the water’s surface, something pretty cool was being revealed. Today, with the surpassing of many milestones, it’s clear that a second wind has arrived. This exhaustive, head pounding, raw, emotive journey inches ever forward with renewed and increased expectation. Halfway home never felt so good!

I will take this opportunity once again to express my unyielding gratitude to Trevor Thornton and Rich Thomas for their ongoing, unparalleled contributions.

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Cry, Desert podcast: Part Five: The Cry Desert Pitch – Music and Video

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There seems to be some dispute these days as to the worth of a picture – a thousand words; a million words, perhaps? I’ve seen it expressed both ways recently and it’s led me to examine the value of video. Are we able to free associate with quite the same depth and purpose when being led so succinctly by clever editing? I know first hand as a photographer, that success lies in an image conjuring up multicolored tapestries of meaning; an invisible reflection, if you will, of an individual’s worldview. But as we offer greater clarity to our production, I wonder if we run the risk of explaining too much..?

With music, on the other hand there can be no such subterfuge – it either works its way into your brain by way of your heart, or the doors are closed permanently. My hope is that folks feel the ebb and flow of this soundtrack and find their own memories being stirred in all the right places.
From the narration, we hope the audience is engaged; from the dialogue, we hope the audience is challenged; from the visual projections, we hope the audience is transported; and from the music, we hope the audience is connected. Lofty goals, all of them, but this boldness of vision can only be destroyed if it’s starved. We’ve just got to keep our larder fully stocked.

The danger of the storyboard stage is that many of the ideas you have been carrying around in the form of words alone suddenly seem lost amongst the colors and shapes of the backdrop they front. The desert shots we are executing call for simple, powerful visual statements in the style of classic cinema. The storyboard above illustrates perfectly how close we are to getting what we want. 100 frames completed, now we need 600 more…

Cry, Desert podcast: Part Four: Narration

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During the closing weeks of 2011, I was delighted to pass the final script for ‘Cry, Desert’ to the incomparable voice artist, Wayne June. You will hear, from this brief excerpt, the stunningly, emotive qualities of his voice. Words that fell easily onto the page are magnified enormously and validated considerably by this delivery. I am now impatient to share more.

Cry, Desert podcast: Part Three: Supermassive Superstar

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The beauty of music like this is that the intensity can be increased with each clockwise turn of the volume knob. Your neighbors may disagree, of course – but I guess that’s what cars are for.

Recovering from major shoulder surgery for the past twelve weeks has been no picnic. Simply holding a guitar has been a challenge, let alone playing it. So with the initial, and rather painful, rounds of physiotherapy well underway, I decided that resuming these duties would be a steady build up. I would have a stab at the middle section of the track – no more than three takes – and see if I could create a vibe over some abstract piano that I had laid done some months ago. To further enhance the experience, I set up a camera and recorded the takes back-to-back (looping the playout section beforehand). I planned on selecting the best bits from each take but to my surprise, I accidentally played them back altogether and liked what I heard. It’s like three seperate voices; unique personalities working in and out of the piano melody. Another element at play is the sound of the instrument. I have always subscribed to the ‘less is more’ school of thought – melody and emotion must be served with humility. I want folks to remember the guitar lines after repeated listens and with this interplay, I think we’ve hit on something very nice.

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The second single release from ‘Cry, Desert’ is out on Jan 10th 2012. The driving and inspirational’Supermassive Superstar’ is fast becoming a signature piece from the production. Grooves come and go, but this one sets up a permanent residence in your brain, decorating the space with guitar playing straight from the soul. Also, stay tuned for the Supermassive podcast coming soon.

Cry, Desert Podcast: Part Two, ‘Communicate’

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Reflections on the song, Communicate.

The first official release from ‘Cry, Desert’ is OUT NOW. The haunting and deeply relevant song, ‘Communicate’, evokes sentiments of love, compassion and truth; a simple message from artist to audience. Weaving through multiple musical genres, ‘Communicate’ washes over the listener like a warm ocean wave. Official release date is Dec 19th, 2011 and will be available on all major music sites.
For those interested in how this stuff gets put together, I posted a video at CryDesert.com of the live recording of the guitar parts. You’ll see that while caught up in a sea of cables and hard drives, an oversight occurred during playback which changed the entire dynamic of the song’s extended playout. I think you will agree that it was extremely fortuitous.

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The accompanying book is now finalized and I’m really happy to have settled on this design concept. Combining and illustrating a magical tale with the back drop of real-world events proved challenging when laying the story out but we’ve managed to weave a pretty comprehensive tapestry of color to reflect just about every angle of the project. With so much detail being covered right up to the last moments we have purposely placed many hurdles in our path, so only time will tell if this has been too far reaching or whether we will hit the mark. From the script and lyrical content, to the inner workings of pulling such a huge project together, to the detailed drawings of stages and 3D projections, the book will be an amazing keepsake. Here’s a few of the pages.

CALL FOR ENTRIES
In preparation for the 2014 release, the producers of ‘Cry, Desert’ are calling for stories and anecdotes from its audience; real life accounts of seminal moments and turning points that brought forth renewed personal challenge and opportunity. Risks taken; love requited; dreams fulfilled; tragedy overcome – in everyone’s life there are periods of awakening that can be isolated as having had a dramatic impact on your life, your work, your relationships, your worldview. We are compiling these personal reflections from a global audience in order to create a published journal; a testimony to the power of inspiration that will remain a strong companion for many years to come.

We believe passionately in using creativity and the power of storytelling to inspire each other and the world we live in and are firmly committed in our belief that what is important to you, IS important to the world if you choose to express it.

Each contributor will receive a fully credited edition of the book and digital copies of the album and films.
Contact us directly at the following email address: publishing@crydesert.com
and we’ll get back to you personally with details of submission.

We know that people are busy and facing tough times, but taking a moment and sharing your story will pay back dividends in good feeling for yourself and for others. Remember, inspiration is the real force for change and every story counts.

I love technology. To deliver my vision, unencumbered and without compromise, is a beautiful thing. As a recording musician, I now have the freedom of a painter. The iPad app now in development is especially rewarding as it gives a full HD viewing and listening experience at your fingertips. The ability to explore and read the script; to evolve the characters beyond their limited appearances; and to bring all of the various graphics, videos and demos together in one application rounds out the project in a very neat package. I think I have finally found the modern day equivalent of the album sleeves I used to stare at for hours on end.

I can still smell the grass. New Mexico, 1973. Thirty seven years now separate me from me – pictorially speaking, of course – though in my mind I can be there in a heartbeat. I got the crap beaten out of me playing football in junior high school. A late bloomer, I guess. I remember one particularly sadistic moment when, as a 62 lb stick of attitude, I had to run sets of tackling drills with an 11 year-old, 150 lb freak of nature. Three times we had to butt heads through a set obstacle course. The first time, I was so shocked at this laughably-massive hunk o’ flesh flattening me that I shot up, not even conscious of willingly going back for more. The second time we collided I felt my head compress into my shoulders and what little height I had attained was instantly regressed. And to make matters worse, along with the unfathomable pain, fear had come knocking.

And that would be my downfall this particularly sunny day. With hindsight, we can all pinpoint exactly where we were or what we were doing when life thrust a valuable lesson upon us, because these lessons are always taught ‘in the moment’. I’ve found them in sports, in musical performance, in fatherhood, in drinking and traveling and I’m certain I am nowhere close to graduating. And what’s more, I suspect we all know when it’s about to happen. There’s a momentary pausing of time. The “uh oh” factor sidles in like a virtueless lady of the evening – an awareness; a sense of mystery that is only outweighed by the sense of the inevitable. There’s no confusion, just the sensation of being propelled helplessly through a cool, clearing fog. “Is that Mark? Let’s get him in, time for his lesson.” And there it is, let the idioms flow – ‘no good deed goes unpunished’, ‘don’t put all of your eggs in one basket’, etc, etc.

My learning for the day – and for a lifetime, for that matter: fear = hurt.

I could feel eyes boring into me. Like rabid dogs tethered to a barn door, the team huddled close by. There was fear in the air and this little dirt patch on a sun-baked field in a town that proudly proclaims its accomplishment to be the ‘cattle capital of the southwest’, was suddenly the coliseum. My third and final collision was like a slow walk to end a relationship – no matter how it’s delivered, the revelation will destroy the other person beyond comprehension. When the hit came it was nothing less than pure violence, made all the more pathetic because of my slight hesitation. I had foolishly acknowledged his size and the coming pain, and succumb entirely to the inequality of it all. Fear had me in a bear hug.

I opened my eyes, seeing nothing but the blue sky through an ill-fitting football helmet. I remember waiting for someone to rush to my aid, but the crowd was gone. The show was over. I wanted to shout but my insides were a vacuum. I was sucking tiny gasps of air into lungs that would have done a sparrow proud. So I just lay there, quietly accepting my fate.

It’s clear now, with the perspective and clarity granted by the passage of time, that I have always been attracted to situations bigger than myself. I would never pick a fight with anyone my own size – it seemed wrong; somehow pointless. There was no chance of an extraordinary victory, only a bloody nose. The downside is that there are always more losses than wins, but that’s OK. It’s still a wise choice, if choice has to be made, because the wins are huge. I highly recommend it. In business, in art, in love – reach as high as you can.., and then go get a ladder.

The problem that we continue to endure today is that society’s behavior is predicated on picking on the little guy. So much so, that we virtually celebrate it – the underdog; the downtrodden; the ‘David and Goliath’ syndrome. Until we stop seeing the drama in ‘the little guy’, the poor, the undernourished and the oppressed really don’t stand much of chance.

A friend of mine just made an album (soon to be released). It’s predictable; it adds nothing to the emotional evolution of music. Another friend made an album with him at the same time (also soon to be released). It too, is predictable. Sound was not explored. Sentiment was not explored. No depths were plumbed and no soul was sacrificed. The long haul wasn’t attractive to them. Instant was. That’s a factory approach and factories are outdated. If you aren’t building something bigger than yourself, lay down your tools, because now, more than ever, we need risk to be placed above reward.

A film, a TV series and a powerful music extravaganza – all in production; all at the same time.
For details and updates check out:

Cry, Desert
Then Came.., Me?
The Drumbeats

I was writing in my usual spot (see above), drinking in the morning sun with some very strong coffee, when I hit a point that all writers can relate to: titles. Some folks start from a title, some from a melody. Me? I generally work an idea out from its title, tire of it, and then realize nothing else works as well. Anyway, titles have become very significant in this project and because it’s my firm belief that great songs have great titles, I am imposing more thought on this than is probably necessary. My latest quandary – ‘Will You Stand?’ or ‘Something Bigger Than You’? The full lyrics are below. (BTW – I won’t ask for comments because that’s like asking someone to name your baby – it just can’t happen).

I’m a lost soul
And I’m washed up
Like a day late
Just to miss another plane

See that world it is bigger than you
It’s the light that shines everyday it’s for you
It’s the grace of love, it’s the balance we need
To never forget

Preparing a text in order to contextualize ‘Cry Desert’ for the purposes of media requests, I came across the following quote in my reading. One of the most poignant remarks ever made and one that is unquestionably dramatic in its grace, humility and purpose.

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.”
Dwight D. Eisenhower, From a speech before the American Society of Newspaper Editors, April 16, 1953

Edgar Choueiri, a professor of mechanical and aerospace engineering at Princeton University, has developed a way to play true three-dimensional sound recordings over regular loudspeakers, such as those found in televisions and computer laptops.

The technique may one day be used to allow 3D televisions to produce lifelike sound and to help people with certain types of hearing impairments locate noises. Segments of the video above incorporate Choueri’s 3D filter to demonstrate the phenomenon.

The filter is designed to work with loudspeakers – not headphones – and can be experienced through standard computer speakers. (Make sure the right and left speakers are on the correct sides.)

Video by Michael E. Wood.

It’s a never-ending cycle – the more I create, the more I feel needs to be created. Developing such an ambitious project, one can become consumed by the overwhelming details and neglect the original vision – and that needs just as much nurturing as the mid-numbingly, infantile legal questions that seem to dominate any work of creative prowess. Not to the benefit of the work itself, just the industry surrounding it. Anyway, three new songs have been added to the collection – ‘Roam’, Anyway The Wind Blows’ and ‘Will You Stand’. Each of these is from a character’s perspective but have so much resonance in the issues we all face everyday. There’s longing, there’s grief, there’s questions, and there’s an incredible sense of optimism that will wash over even the most hard-hearted out there. These songs will all be mastered as limited editions for the those folks on our mailing list. If you’re not on there, get on there – it’s really, really great music for the soul.

To subscribe, visit Cry Desert’s official site
MW

A beautiful Arabic translation of the central theme to the show, graciously written out by Aicha Boman, has inadvertently become a conversation piece in its own right. The inscription is a direct translation of the following:

Every Man Is A Desert,
Every Woman Is A Tear;
Cry, Desert, Cry
Life Comes Alive,
In Your Embrace

Without prejudice, the graphic appeal of the translation draws the viewer closer. As with all art, that’s only half way there – the rest is understanding.

With feet firmly on the ground in Morocco, time is never going to become a silent friend. But working on ideas, sharing thoughts and meeting some wonderful people transcends time completely – it’s like being trapped in a vacuum. Every moment is a highlight, so there is little to report with any adherence to brevity, but I will say that the entire opening of the show has closed it’s wayward circle. Inspiration is everywhere. Where once I planned elaborately, I now see beauty in simplicity. “Say what you mean, mean what you say” – a lifelong mandate for me and passed repetitively to my children, it now finds renewed clarity. What IS interesting though, is that even with the hurdles of culture and language, words packed with emotion and tone communicate across borders, much like music. To emulate my friend Leif’s art form, when we talk, we are all painting with sound.

It’s funny how much you can be associated with a physical object. I have played a Fender Stratocaster for over 30 years – a white one, at that. But a new round of photos for merchandise for the ‘Cry, Desert’ project had me in reach of my old Precision Bass. And contrastingly, it’s had quite a wonderful impact – I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the bass. It’s a whole new identity, like getting a whole new set of friends, with new conversations to be had. I’m liking this.

Reviewing the script to ‘Cry, Desert’ is a liberating exercise for me. For the simple reason that I am removed from it – no longer channeling ideas and emotions onto a blank page. I sat down to write it and I finished it. Once completed, it lived. No fireworks. No congratulations. It simply started to exist. The piece has its own personality and strength and arrogance and beauty, all wrapped up in a reflection of its time. And that is art at its most relevant.

I often wonder if there is too much going on in the creative world. On average there are 2,000 books published per day and with musicians utilizing self-publishing, 100,000′s of thousands of songs released every year, and who knows how many painters and potters banging away on their canvas and clay.

Clearly, most of what is published is rubbish – and I qualify that with the question, “How many times this year have you been left breathless and awakened Vs. being merely informed?” But that doesn’t detract from the relevance of the published articles. On the contrary, the fact that we are inundated with such mountains of mediocrity amongst those rare gems of genius is a reflection of who we are and what society allows. We certainly don’t demand great television or film making – clearly we’re too busy to make a fuss. Regretfully, the great viewing /reading/listening public take what it is given and quietly hold out some wee glimmer of hope for the great works to prevail out of the noise.

On the other side, whether good or bad, true artists have no choice in the matter. Driven by angels and demons we are relentlessly propelled to make something out of nothing in a world that is eternally at odds with itself; a world that can have the clarity of a single drop of rain or be as complex as the undulating global economy. Whatever happens, artists from all walks of life are at their most powerful when they reflect the world they see before them. Cave paintings from a bygone age? – a statement of the times when you had to kill your own food. The great classical works? – most are anthems to the political struggles of their time; marches and majestic bombast to reflect the unrest. Jimi Hendrix? It’ll never happen again.

So when I look again at a piece written only months previous, I see a unique reflection of the times. I wrote it but I can’t go back to it – the mindset, the motivation, the climate – I can recreate none of it. And that is a great learning exercise. That it’s not the constant refining of a piece of work – a song, a book, etc – it’s the fact that it was finished to the point where it took its place in time. It is of THAT time, not this, no matter how recent THAT was. Which is why you may consider in your quieter moments that there is no art in the world right now. The page is always blank and we are better off for it.

Cry, Desert

And then it was finished. Perhaps even with a modicum of regret. This particular journey dissolved undramatically into the next round of the machine’s life – no massive setbacks; little mechanical frustration; minimal blood loss – a success by all accounts. I’m beginning to realize that the ebb and flow of emotion during a restoration seems to follow no obvious or recognizable path, even when the stage had been set to acknowledge the repetitive motions of tearing down, inspecting, and refurbishing rusty metal. These tedious acts alone guarantee some sort of outburst or introspection at one point or another. “This can’t be fixed!”, “There is no end in sight!”, “What was I thinking?”, etc, etc. But on this build it was borderline ‘dream-like’. In fact, I have hardly any recollection of spending time on it. Much the same way one feels when writing or composing. You just lose yourself completely. One vital element is worth noting though: this build was conducted within the sonic borders and ever-present expressive overtones of jazz – whether morning , noon or night. Maybe that is the answer. For much of this build I was immersed in Keith Jarrett’s incredibly ‘human’ connection with his music. My state of mind and the elemental touchstones of his piano will forever be ingrained in this machine until it is once more reduced to it’s naked, blemished frame. So I hereby state that this is and always will be as much of an artistic undertaking as any music, film or photograph that I have channeled into the world. Now onto the next one.

For fellow ‘wrenchers’, the list of modifications is more a list of omitting the unnecessary and fabricating the useful. New clutch; steel-braided brake lines; renewing seals; replace fuel lines; scrap the factory air box, fenders, lights, handlebars, seat, etc; heaps of welding and bracket making; modified crank case breather; new paint and countless hours scouring the chrome back to life.

There is no more intimidating leap of faith than when you tear down a perfectly good piece of machinery in order to satisfy your mechanical soul.

You start quietly, easing yourself into a state of ‘cleaning’. But sooner or later you start to remove critical pieces. Small at first, a foot peg or a mirror. Your work bench begins to fill with assorted bric-a-brac as little by little you feel yourself being drawn into a darkened world where only the physicality of the work seems important. Your peripheral vision narrows. The tools you select serve to enhance the respect you feel for the machine. There is no casual use of inappropriate or ill-fitting pieces, this is surgery and every choice is met with a satisfied, tactile connection. These are colleagues forged from steel; stoic companions that have worked with you for many, many years. They’ve tasted your blood and sweat and born the brunt of your frustration and joy. And when the day is done, when no more light spills in through the dusty windows, there is nothing more satisfying than standing back and simply observing a work in progress. Your work. You are deconstructing, designing and assembling at your own pace. It has been said that building is the ‘mark of a man’. I prefer to think of it as the ‘mark of mankind’. We are beholden to so many pressures and technical must-haves that we forfeit any real connectivity or individual investment. Our associative illumination is dulled and we miss out on a fantastic opportunity to gain a greater understanding about ourselves and the big bad world we live in. It may seem simple and contrite, but getting your hands dirty can have an incredible, long-lasting and positive affect.

My brilliant colleague, Leif Boman drew my attention to this video. As I watch this presentation it strikes me that Sylvia Earle is tireless. For over 50 years she has been working to understand the ocean and in doing so has opened our eyes not only to the many wonders of the deep, but she has used the power of the oceans to humble those who pay attention. This is a gift. How it affects our behavior long-term is unknown. But it is indeed a rare gift.

I have decided to add a new song to the show, but it brings to mind the age-old dilemma of knowing when to stop. David Lean, the British film director, once offered that “you never finish a film, you merely abandon it.” He is absolutely correct. Creative work by its very nature has no end, and some would argue that it has no beginning, but the masters are the ones that know when to walk away. I could offer a million excuses why this new song should be added but ultimately, well.., it just feels right.

I’m going to document the genesis of the song – from acoustic idea through finished arrangement – and post it on the site.

Mark Warford, Rich Thomas and Trevor Thornton – tracking on a rainy Los Angeles day.

It’s always a treat to work with Harry – we’ve scoped out strategic communications initiatives for ‘We Are The World 2′; we’ve shot a music video; we’ve hung out in Memphis eating barbeque at the ‘Rendezvous’; and we’ve talked for hours and hours. But most moving for me was traveling with him to Memphis and performing for the Tavis Smiley show on the 25th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s assassination. Not only was the moment significant, but we performed/recorded the song at Mason Temple, the church where MLK gave his famous “I’ve Been to the Mountain Top” speech – standing before the very same podium. To further punctuate the power of the moment, a steely cold, rain fell outside the church – just as it had 25 years ago to the day. Looking out to the gathering, right there in front was Dr. Cornel West, the eternally buoyant professor and civil rights activist. Beaming as only he can, he was incredibly gracious and appreciative of the moment and our conversations after were rare and provocative. With great dignity and poise, Harry was also extremely present in the room. A tireless advocate for justice across all races, creeds and colors, Harry is still as fiery now at the age of 82 as he was when he was playing a critical role in the civil rights movement of the ’60′s.

The photo below is a sample of a portrait session we did – I wanted to pull out a few of the many distinct characteristics of this amazing and complicated man. You be the judge.