I was nine years old. It was mid-afternoon on the first of July. It was a crisp South African winters day and I could hear the inhaling and exhaling of the vacuum pump in the dairy parlor. I could see my dad sorting cows in the holding pen. I was walking across the yard with a plate of hot food that Grandma prepared for my Grandfather's brother. After his wifes passing a few years earlier, he acquired a two bedroom, galvanized railway rondawel and Dad and Grandpa helped him put it up on a neat concrete slab a few hundred yards from the farmhouse. He was in his eighties and hadn't been feeling well for quite some time.His children never visited and my sister and I assisted with menial chores around the little dwelling. I can recall the dull "thump" and the smell of gunpowder as I approached the old poplar tree that provided his shade. His lifeless body leaning on the old .410 shotgun at a grotesque angle.
Welcome to the real world. A world where you can work hard, do your best and still not win. A world where it doesn't matter how many times you get up after getting knocked down. You can always get knocked down again. Loneliness, isolation and desperation. I couldn't really understand back then but in the years following that event I eventually processed the reasons and the philosophy of being at a place where letting go seems like the only option. It called me to action. To be alert and open to people's signals. To be cognizant of the fact that everyone's struggles are real to them and we should live a life of empathy and respect.
That we should never diminish someone's pain and worries.
I often get asked why my songs and stories are filled with sad characters and lost souls. Why I can't just write happy songs about unicorns and rainbows. To be honest I feel positive that we have enough of that out there. Enough writers that aim to remove us and our daily thoughts and worries from the real world. It sure has its place in this world and I'll be the last person to dismiss that but I made it my artistic endeavor to tell my personal stories with empathy and grace. To be the conduit for the feelings and daily struggles of the people I share this world with. I know I will never arrive at a destination in this regard and that is the point. To be and remain in a state of becoming. To be open to the world around me and to avoid indoctrination and ignorance at all costs. To be a better person than I was yesterday.
I am currently on the road through the high desert of South Africa with one of my best friends and we are navigating the COVID19 roadblocks and bureaucracy of a government struggling to contain the tide of an unstoppable virus. Everywhere we go, the small towns and dusty streets, we are met with masked faces and friendly eyes. Nieu Bethesda, Pearston, Baviaanskloof, Langkloof, Die Hel. Cowboy Country. We're chasing that long white line that leads to more adventure and ever present emptiness.
Its hard to believe how willingly people gave up their freedom of movement and how restrictive many have become in their ability to adapt and accept the new reality of the world we live in. To me personally, I'm done sitting in my house. We have to get working. Get the economy back on it's feet and start adapting and implement measures to keep ourselves and our neighbors safe. No more paranoia and fear. It's becoming hard to tolerate uninformed and misguided behavior. I need to see my family and they need me. Its time.
A few weeks ago I recorded a Facebook Show that should stream in the next few days. Once again Audio Culture Studios assisted and their professional service made for yet another great recording. I've also been busy in the studio with my band putting together my first full band recordings. Im very excited to share this with you all. Thank you to Nathan Smith for capturing our process in the studio. Thank you for the generous support of the Facebook Livestreams.
Until next time, be safe out there and remember to be kind. Its tough to make a stand and we need each other more now than ever.
JB