A SINGER OF SONGS

Fourteen years ago I moved from a small Belgian town to Barcelona. I was young and I wanted to know pain and life and pleasure. Far away from the small safe life I had lived up to then. Far away from family and friends and all things known. I moved here to be ignored, feel less than nothing and start from scratch. Like one of my favourite songs of that time said: I wanted to go to the bottom and put my soul on fire. And I got what I came for. Barcelona had fun and sun to spare. Life became a day-to-day struggle to make ends meet. And most of all, people ignored me happily. I was a stranger to everyone and I don’t think I’ve ever felt freer since then. But you can’t be a stray bullet forever, you’re bound to hit a wall or flesh sometime. And that’s when shit started happening. I had thought about a lot of things, but not so much about language. The Spanish language had never been on my mind except when I tried to sing along to The Miami Sound Machine as a little kid. I knew a couple of words when I got here (hola, adios, no, sí, chuleta de cerdo –no idea where that one came from-), but nothing to keep a decent conversation going. And once the stray bullet started landing places, it got hard. It is one of the most frustrating things in life to be the mute at the table. Smile when everyone else smiles. Shake your head when everyone else has decided things are wrong. Without language you are a piece of dead wood on rolling waves. And things can get pretty ridiculous. Like that time when I ordered a Penis Sandwich (the Spanish word for chicken –pollo- is ridiculously similar to the one for penis – polla-). Or the other time when for reasons unknown I was hired as a translator for a Belgian psychiatrist who had written a book about sex. During the presentation to the press he pronounced the following sentence in Dutch: “The male sex organ should be used as a paintbrush rather than as a knife.” There was a silence, the room full of journalists looked at the translator –me!!!- and I mumbled some words and everybody started laughing and I was fired on the spot five minutes later.

Funny how two of my most embarrassing moments ever had the word penis in them… Anyways. Being unable to express myself had become the hardest thing to handle in this adventure. You crumble every time anyone says something to you. You start doubting everything. Fourteen years later most of those doubts have disappeared (they should let me translate the penis thing now…), but one of them remained for a long time.

When you are walking and somebody you know well enough to greet but not well enough to engage a conversation with walks past… Do you say “hola” or “adios”? Do you say hello or goodbye? Both are logical: you meet and walk away. I always said “hola” until I realized that people here say goodbye rather than hello. And every time I said hello I saw them doubt for a moment. Should they stop and start one of those awful conversations where you have nothing to say (there is always a reason why you barely know a person)? Why had I said hello instead of goodbye? What did I expect?

So little by little, after years of misunderstandings and terrible small talk, I started saying “adiós” as well. I learned to love Spanish as the incredible language it is. I learned the words for penis and chicken and sandwich. I learned to decide when to smile and when to shake my head. And I learned how to say goodbye. 

 Here is a song about doubting whether to say hello or goodbye. It’s called “There is a home for you”. My friend Laura Rasanen played the violin and sang along. I hope you like it.

Love,

Lieven      

THERE IS A HOME FOR YOU

I’m not eager to go

But there’s reasons why things should be so

These walls close in on me

There’s dust in the air that I breathe

You said the very first thing

You saw were wings opening

Homely peace I don’t seek

It’s a promise that’s too slow to keep

Will there be a home for me

Like there is a home for you?

I dream of empty roads

The sex in being on your own

I’d rather move than stand still

Fight all the hours left to kill

Moving from flame to flame

It gets awfully cold in between

The fire I need lies within

Burns everything but the skin

Will there be a home for me

Like there is a home for you?

The water seemed to be as pure as water can be. The sun sparkled, the deep blue sky reflected on the quiet ripples of the sea, no more than five people lying on the white sand of the tiny beach. All this to say the situation looked pretty innocent in the least. Little did I know hundreds of little creatures were hiding under the perfect surface. Waiting for an ear in which to build their new home. Unaware, I dove into the water. Unknowingly offering them my ears.

It’s been a year since I’ve had ear trouble. The little buggers are easier to get than to get rid of. So I finally went to the doctor and he gave me some more antibiotics and when I told him about how the world has been muffled since the infection, he smiled. He told me many people are unaware of how bad their hearing is. Of the fact that they sometimes only hear 70 or 80 per cent of the world. I was lucky, he said: at least I was aware. He then handed me the prescription to kill the bacteria with and silently waved me out of his office.

A couple of days have past since and I can almost hear the little buggers fight and lose their battle. But I can’t seem to get rid of the doctor’s words. How much have I been hearing of the world this whole time? How many wonderful or terrible things have gone unnoticed only because I listened to my Nirvana albums way too loud when I was fifteen? How many songs have I listened to and ignored because I only heard the 70% mediocrity and not the 30% genius? Maybe the trees rustle way louder than they seem to? Maybe bees and birds are far noisier than they seem? Maybe I’ve missed out on the words that would have made the difference? Maybe my favorite silence wasn’t a real silence? Just to say all this has made me a little paranoid and confused.

Maybe that’s why a very small song popped out when I played my guitar. What’s the use of writing epic songs if almost half of it will be turned into silence anyway? And isn’t there enough noise already? Isn’t that the main reason why we are all stone deaf? That life is just too loud? So I turned every volume knob on my mixing table down and recorded a really short and quiet one.

If you can’t hear it, I guess it’s time to pay the doctor a visit.

x

Lieven

ONE MINUTE TUNE

I spend my days and nights trying to make sense

Gathering pretty words and loyal friends

I try to stand up for what I stand for

Sometimes I’ve been faithful, other times I’ve whored

 

But if I could

I’d pour my whole life into

A one minute tune

It’s Sunday, somewhere around 1960 in Haaltert, Belgium. It’s around noon and the whole tiny village seems asleep. Crickets chirp somewhere in the old cemetery. My grandparents sleep under the big cherry tree. A stray dog smells a wooden light pole and lifts its leg. Like in most tiny villages it’s a silence that seems as if it will never go away again. But then music starts sounding. Off-key and faraway at first. As it comes closer the melody becomes recognizable. It’s a traditional soldiers used to sing on their way to the battle front. My grandfather lifts his weary head. He can already hear feet shuffling on the cobblestones. The torn-up shoes of kids playing drums and trombone and trumpet. The marching band walks through the main street. Children run and sing along. Old people step into their doorways and smile. The stray dog runs away, then stops and listens and watches from a safe distance. He sees my father, blowing his trumpet proudly. He is so skinny you barely see him next to the chubby trombone player, but he plays his heart and lungs out. They are on their way to the bar. It’s somebody’s birthday and his or her buddies hired the band to play for him. Songs for a birthday. When the last song is done played my father and his companions will be paid with a few beers and some coins in their hats. The birthday boy will be so drunk he doesn’t realize the band has already stopped playing. He will sing on and on and on.

A few years later my father got a terrible lung disease. An operation bereft him of almost all the air in his lungs. He recovered after a few years of hardship, but by then the trumpet was long forgotten in a case somewhere in the dusty attic.

I had always wanted to learn to play the trumpet. Because if there is a heaven there will be people playing the trumpet all the time. Because there have been moments in my life where Chet Baker was a true companion. Because I will never forget the first time I heard the trumpet solo in Bright Eyes’ “Landlocked Blues”. But mostly, because circles should always closed. So as an ode to my father and the marching band I went to a shop a couple of months ago and bought one…

Five months later, this is the first aSoS recording with my new best brass friend. In the meanwhile my father has gotten himself a new trumpet and has started playing again after more than fifty years of silence. Circles should be closed. If not, they are just crooked lines.

The song is called “Into the Storm”. I hope you like it.

x

Lieven

INTO THE STORM

 

On a quiet night

In a tiny town

You dreamt of city lights

And all things yet unfound

So you ran towards the sun

You suffered to have fun

You put a wallet where

Your heart used to be

 

You laughed in rolling waves

Acted in single takes

With pills against the pain

Shelter from the rain

You raised your glass

To the upper class

But they kept you down

Were they could shove you around

 

Now your fairytales

Are filled with renegades

And you darkest nights

Are drenched in city lights

So roll up your sleeves

Put a helmet on

Put your bike in gear

And ride into the storm

Ride into the storm…

It must have been over 25 years ago. It was a sunny afternoon. Birds were chirping. Bees buzzing. We could almost hear the grass growing underneath us. Four tiny friends, we were discussing which song we would playback at the Playback Contest that was being held in our tiny town. One of them wanted to do Jason Donovan, hoping he would seduce the girls in doing so. But this was supposed to be a group effort, so no solo carreers. Not yet. Then someone suggested Wham!, but that was a duo so it was none the better. And then, after a small uninspired silence interruped only by the occasional fart and silly laughter, someone uttered the magical words. ‘The final countdown’. Hell yes!! That was the one!! We all jumped on our feet and started battling over who would be whom, and I managed to get the coolest part. The guy with the keyboards. The guy who played the awesome riff. Da-da-dàà-dààà!!! It was as close as I would ever get to being God.

It was my first time ever on a stage. We din’t win the contest, a boy doing Paul Anka won. We blamed it on the jury that was full of nostalgic old people. They didn’t get the pleasure of moving your head back and forth until you were dizzy. But we didn’t care. Rock ‘n’ roll was meant to be misunderstood by old people. So we took off our huge blond wigs and went home with a big smile on our faces.

Ever since, I have secretly wanted to go back to that. But then I got my first acoustic guitar and then Nirvana did their unplugged and then I discovered Leonard Cohen and before I knew, headbanging was a faraway dream. Utopia.

Maybe this song is as close I will ever get to ‘The Final Countdown’ again. If you listen closely you will find that I have listened to ‘There is a war’ by Leonard Cohen way too many times. And that keybaords are not what they used to be. But still. This song made me nod my head a few times in my little room full of instruments.

It’s called ‘Silent Soldiers’ I hope you like it.

Love,

L

PS There are no picture sof the Playback Contest. Please don’t bother to ask.

SILENT SOLDIERS

 

We were raised on green hills, in the shadows of trees

Sheltered lives built around the promise to please

But we were rolling to the opposite side

The first fight was a little accident

An act of faith we would later repent

We were roaming in silent stupor at night

 

In the morning I will whisper your name

 

The next one was a little less unforeseen

There was will to conquer, there was a scheme

We were struggling for a place to hide

We came across men that were hurtfully wise

Saying there’s only two armies and you need to pick sides

We were fighting back to back from that time

 

In the morning I will whisper your name

 

Then one day we started fighting kamikaze style

From the wounds we have we’ll happily die

We’ve been cornered into the darker side

When your way of looking at the world

Is more beautiful than the world you look at

There’ll be violence until the end of time

 

In the morning I will whisper your name

And you’ll be there

I recorded this song some time ago but have always been shy to share it. It was written and recorded like the oldest aSoS tracks were: in a couple of hours’ time. It was a warm winter night (we have those here sometimes, anyone doubts global warming at this time?) and I was wasting an evening away on the internet and being very conscious about that. And then song rolled out.

It is a love/hate thing between me and the www. I have met the most amazing people and music here. My new band (Shedding Feathers) is the result of one of those wonderful encounters. At its best the internet is a corner where you actually meet people the way they are, no small talk or chit-chat required. At its worst, it’s just another corner full of people pretending. Me included. So I guess this is what the song is about. About laughing digitally and feeling like you’re made of plastic afterwards.

DIGITAL LAUGHTER

I sit back in my red chair with a laptop on my knees

The dark night through the window, laughter somewhere I can’t see

Feeling I should be somebody else

The screen lights up my eyes and nothing else

Talking to a friend but he ain’t no friend of mine

Browsing through some pictures, everything we share must shine

Feeling I should jump the final fence

Feeling I will break before I bend

So why do I laugh digitally?

Sitting in my red chair with a laptop on my knees

Wishing I were running towards simmering waves of heat

Feeling I could be somebody else

Fearing time will flow without an end

Love and lust in pixels, I seek joy through a wire

But all this far-away happiness makes me feel old and tired

My default setting is a sense of lack

Feelings I have lost and can’t get back

So why do I laugh digitally?

It took me a while to share this one. Not because the song is less important to me. Quite the contrary. It is a story that has been very very special to me and Ana sang some stunning harmonies on the track, right before we headed out into the world this past autumn.

No, it is something else. I have just been feeling a big urge to hide back in the bunker these past weeks. I am not sure why. Maybe it’s autumn. Maybe it’s having been out there doing the tour and being amongst people so much. Maybe it was re-reading the Border trilogy. Maybe it’s the beautiful trumpet I am trying hard to learn to play. Maybe it’s reading the newspaper and feeling everything that hasn’t fallen apart yet is about to. Maybe I feel more important things should be done than singing songs. Sometimes I wish I could just shout and run into the world and crush it and then find some people to try and build it up again. Together. In a way that makes sense this time… But I’m not even sure all this makes any sense, so who am I kidding?

So I’m back to singing…

This is Ana and me. This is a Little Sin.

LITTLE SIN

Apart we stood
Like we thought we should
We watched the planes fly by
Words like tiny crimes
We ran from rain
We fucked the pain away
I admired the mud stains
On your polished nails

Now we lay
Now we lay

The way you smile
When we ride our bikes
Searching for loose tiles
Swaying from side to side
The little sin
Of your hand on my skin
Of your eyes seeking mine
Of feeling bright, not blind

Now we lay (x4)
With little shame

Ana, Ben and Jeremy have been here for almost a week now. The amps feel warm, we all have marks from strings on our fingers and my living room is a right mess. But I wouldn’t have changed the past couple of days for anything in the world. Sharing songs with these three wonderful people has been priceless already, and will be even more once we get into that van tomorrow and hit the road. They are amazing musicians, marvellous companions and bloody good drinkers.

To celebrate all this Jeremy and I have decided to bring out a small album of outtakes and offer it to you for free. The songs on “The corner that I seek is a place where no one meets” are outtakes from Old Happiness (the song attached is one of them), demos that were too demo-y to release and one cover (the amazing ‘A singer must die’ from Leonard Cohen, with the help of Ana’s voice). They never found a home, but have one now. If you want to visit click here and start downloading.

Ana was the first one. I remember watching her play in a small and pretty room here in Barcelona. Hidden behind a big guitar, singing those fragile songs with that tender voice of her. After the show we shook hands and had a couple of beers and agreed to be in touch. 

Jeremy was the second. I was travelling around parts of the US with Aubben (Craven Canary, also a HI54LOFI comrade) and one night we were enjoying a show in Chicago when he walked in. Straight from the airport. A bag in his hand. Scanning the room in search of familar faces. We watched the rest of the show together and then had drinks and then some more and then after a couple of days said goodbye knowing we’d meet again soon.

And then Ben, he was the third. I was on a mini-holiday in London and found out Benjamin Shaw was playing a show. So I showed up and saw him standing by the bar. A bit shy but every bit as enchanting as I thought he’d be. He played an amazing set of songs and then we had some drinks and then some more.

All this is life after the internet. Getting to know people through music and writing and listening and reading and then meeting up in person and all of a sudden realize you have become friends. Friends through music. Jeremy is the one who has been working the most to find ways to find a pattern in all this. Being a musician in the internet age. An age where record labels aren’t what they once were (anyone really sad about that?). An age where your music can ripple all over the world by just pushing some buttons. An age that may be confusing and overwhelming at times, but that is so darn exciting. Anyways, HI54LOFI has been a haven for many of us wandering souls. And it is so wonderful to see how it evolves. How people keep meeting up and making music together. And this is where we are now…

Ana, Jeremy, Ben and I are hitting the road. We’ll put some guitars and banjos in a van and drive around Europe for 10 days. Play where they’ll have us. Spread the word about this whole HI54LOFI thing. About things happening in times where you read the newspaper and it looks as if nothing is really happening. But basically we just plan to play our hearts out and laugh our heads off. 

Over the next two weeks we’ll be in Madrid, Barcelona, Paris, Brussels, London and Rotterdam. If you’re anywhere near, come meet us. You will be the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh…        

Love,

Lieven

Some songs just pop out. You pick on the guitar or hum in the shower or wrestle with the bed sheets on a sleepless night and all of sudden there it is. Like an unexpected visitor who has brought his or her own booze. They are little surprises that come from places you don’t really know.

Then there are songs that plow their way to you. Slowly. You see them make their way on the horizon and they get closer little by little. Step by step. ‘Shine’ is such a song. The melody fell upon me a year ago in autumn, then some words joined in during a walk in the hills in winter and finally it became a song this past summer. I love sunshine but I am not a great friend of summer. It makes me restless, and sometimes the only way to keep me from scratching walls is to write and record. So here it is: ‘Shine’. An expected visitor.

There will be a lot more soon. I am planning a tour around Europe with Ana Franco, Benjamin Shaw and Jeremy Sroka this coming autumn. I will release a free collection of outtakes and rarities for the occasion. Birdcircus is finishing an album. And I have recently formed a band with a singer I love a lot, and we are working hard on songs and some surprises. It is all coming your way, slowly. Little by little.

Love,

L

SHINE (by a Singer of Songs)

Downtown 4.45

Neons buzz, we’re the only ones alive

In the cold wind, your glove in mine

The city’s dark, but we have nowhere to hide

I knew the minute we met

Tomorrow we’d find bruises we never knew we had

A quiver before it’s gone

You said we’re going to heaven, strap a helmet on

Now we have nowhere left to go

Than this trail that leads into a bed of snow

And the sun, it goes from bright to dark

But when the clouds come a-rolling

Will you rise and shine with me?

Uptown 6.15

Your skin when you shiver is the best I’ll see

There’s a spider in awe of a crack

The shadow of rain ripples on your back

Stories when they’re told,

When the weight of words is too much to hold

Then the window, the world outside

I won’t believe in heaven until the day I die

Now we have nowhere left to go

Than this trail that leads into a bed of snow

And the sun, it goes from bright to dark

But when the clouds come a-rolling

Will you rise and shine with me?

It had been a while since something like this had happened. Life has been quite hectic and loud and fast. Too much so to sit down and write and stand up again and sit down again and write some more and plug in the guitars and set the microphones up and then play… But I have a new home now. The recording studio finally all set up, all the buttons & cables in the right position. And a song fell upon me, maybe like a token of gratitude. It was Saturday. I woke up with a title in my slightly aching head: Ruins of you. No idea where it came from (maybe a recurrent dream I have been having lately about an abandoned village in the south of Spain I once wandered through), but I took my guitar and in no time there was a melody to sing it with. The low voice due to the spring cold I have also inspired a bit. The story just had to come out I guess. So it was written and recorded in less than 6 hours. Afterwards I felt like smoking a cigarette but I am being a good boy trying to quit so I just sat back and had a drink and felt relieved somehow that there was enough silence in my life again to make some noise…

The song is called ‘Ruins of You’. I hope you like it.

The lyrics:

RUINS OF YOU: We started building / on high grounds / build towards the sky / We started building / with dry wood / rusty nails that shine / That first night when our eyes met / I knew that pretty soon / We’d start building / on a mud road / a highway sign / We were building / walls against wind / door instead of fire / A gate we never meant to use / a cure for time / Now I’m wandering through / these ruins of you / We kept building / moving on like a backwards flow / We kept building / our tools went dull / walls got low / But we did not know / We did not show / It was slow motion building / On high grounds / too low for high tides / We tried to keep on building / like soaked birds / aching to fly / Then the tools dropped / and the building stopped / And we saw, we saw / We were wandering through / The ruins of me and you.

Love, Lieven 

PS. I feel like I’m opening a door and walking into what will be my home for some time to come. My dear friend Jeremy from Hi54lofi built the house, put in the beautiful wooden floors (they squeak with each step) and the windows with endless views. I will always be grateful to him. Not only do I have a website (www.asingerofsongs.com), I am also on Tumblr, Facebook, Soundcloud and some more I suppose. And all I have to do to share is press this button: 

Let’s end the year the way we started it… By putting some songs out there. Tomorrow the EP ‘Little notes’ is released. Six songs written and recorded with the formidable Tiny Ruins. Released through our dear friends at Hi54lofi and Underused Records. 

Six months ago Hollie walked into my home for the first time. She was a stranger who made magnificent music. Then she became a road companion along with the equally stunning Ana from Coffee & Wine. Then a writing and recording buddy in my tiny and hot (oh, summer) recording studio. In between she was a great drinking and conversation companion. A wonderful soccer fan. And then, when all was taped and all the bottles were empty and the games done and silence fell back upon us… I had a friend. 

I guess that is what this album is about. About saying hello and goodbye and then hello again. About long distance phone calls and late night conversations in smokey bars. About driving. About hoping to be hopeful. And about how in the end we always end up begging not to be forgotten.

From us to you: ‘Little notes’. We hope you may carry some of them in your pockets. Wherever you go.

Love,

L     

I tried to get an early night. The weekend had been long. But sometimes being tired isn’t enough a reason to lose the restlessness. So I stared at the ceiling for a while thinking about conversations that had happened these past days. People met. Stories told. Truths felt. And words came up. Old words. Words that I had scribbled down on a piece of paper a couple of years ago, only to put the piece of paper somewhere in a dusty corner, never to be seen again. But tonight the words were back, suddenly. I guess the little story had to be told. I apologize for the limited vocals. My voice is almost gone due to lack of sleep…

After some summer silence (the heat does me no good, I get cranky and sad and bored and restless, all in unhealthy doses) the buzz of noise starts approaching. Busy days lie ahead of me. I will take advantage of a visit to the US next month to finally get to meet some very special people and musicians in person. Miss Craven Canary, Mr. Broken at the Gates, Mr. Hi54lofi Records… Some shows will be played, some songs sung, some plans made. And a lot of road left behind, of course. Then, in winter already, I will have the honor to release a little EP with the wonderful Tiny Ruins. You might know Hollie has been around Europe for a while and in Barcelona for over a month. And six songs came out of that. They will be burnt onto a little piece of metal with the name ‘Little notes’ on it. And the new Birdcircus album will soon be announced as well. Indeed, many things. All at once. If you’re about to break a silence you might as well have something to say.     

Goodnight.

L.

RUNNING HOME FROM NOWHERE

Did the marketing boys promise that your shit would be a hit? 
Did they try to suck your soul out just to clean it up with their spit? 
Now here you are 
Here you are 
Running home from nowhere 
The path was laid with laughter on easy silky skin 
But it was the hollow silence thereafter that really did you in 
Now here you are 
Here you are 
Running home from nowhere.

These have been special times. It was about three weeks ago when I saw Hollie for the first time. Her plane was a bit late, the airport felt empty that late at night. And then she walked through the revolving doors, a big guitar case making a path in front of her. It was the beginning of a beautiful adventure. Rehearsing with her and Ana, who came over from Madrid. Travelling through a good part of Spain. Playing our music for such kind and silent crowds. Watching landscapes roll by through the windows while the two ladies DJ’ed for me on the car radio. There are times when one is unaware of time. When days just flow into each other like well-written words into sentences of truth and wisdom. When all is friendship…

And then, after the last and especially special show in Barcelona, Ana left. Hollie and I missed her. It was just the two of us now. And so we started recording. New songs most of them. Maybe to be gathered on a small EP one day. Three have already been finished, and the first one to share is ‘Feathers’. A song that was written months ago on a cold winter night. I immediately knew Hollie had to sing these words as soon as it was finished. And she was kind enough to do so… And turned the song into her little gem. Now I sit and listen and am so grateful for this. The friendship. The enthusiasm. The talent. And the music. Always the music…

x

Lieven      

FEATHERS

I wasn’t aware of the dark  
‘Till the morning came through  
I’d never longed for a lie  
‘Till stuck with the truth  
These wings will melt  
Everyone will tell  
I paid little mind to the fire  
‘Till the blanket was pulled  
I sent what we were through a wire  
With words like dull tools  
It’s the worst I have told  
But it’s the best I can hold

I won’t fly like a feather  
To the opposite side  

All of the trees wave goodbye 
Stars are something to do 
No road was paved 
For the likes of me and you 
So we’ll float on 
‘Till the wind gets too strong 

I won’t fly like a feather 
To the opposite side 

At least not this time 
These wings, they won’t melt 
It’s all I can tell.

So we are ready to go…

The instruments are in their cases, still hot after many hours of rehearsals. 

One thick line is drawn on the map like a triangle between Barcelona, Madrid and Valencia.

The songs are stapled into our minds.

Hollie’s foot is sprained but not broken after she fell whilst running towards the dark but beautiful Mediterranean Sea.

Some sad but beautiful records are piled up to accompany us on the radio whilst driving through the desert.

The last phone call to Tarragona has been made to cancel our gig there after authorities decided now was as good a time as any to close the venue due to license problems.

Madrid is whispering our names already.

The van is parked outside.

Hollie is humming, Ana is smiling.

And I am a fortunate man.

A road and four wheels await us. Olé.

We hope to see you somewhere along the way.

Lieven

It was summer, an unusually hot afternoon for a little village in Belgium. A bee buzzed against the window glass. The neighbor’s lawn mower humming somewhere far in the back. And the smell of sun on skin. I lay on the bed, still sweaty. I had raced to the city on my bike, bought the album, raced home again and run up to my room. And then I heard it, for the first time. “The only things I really need, is water, a gun and rabbits…” Saint Mary was the song. Sparklehorse the band. Mark Linkous the man. And the neighbor stopped mowing. The bee found its way out. I took a deep breath and smelled the sun.  

It was still early this morning when the phone buzzed. A message from my fellow bird in the circus. “Close the shutters, tell friends and family to leave you alone. Seek silence. Mark Linkous has taken his life… Damnit.” 

Years later. In Barcelona already. Older. Sitting back on a hot evening like most are here. Cracks in instruments. Dusty melodies. The new album is like an old friend coming over for a visit after many years of absence. One word, one look, one note and you feel amongst yours. “Your face is like watching flowers growing in fast motion”. I shared the words with a special one. We sat and listened and swept the sweat off each other’s foreheads. And hummed. 

It is sunday today. Cloudy and cold out. And silent. Our army has lost one of its biggest war heroes.    

I’m so sick of goodbyes. Indeed.

May he rest in peace…

Love,

L. 

It was a rather monotonous evening. The kind you think you’ll forget instantly but will come back to you after many years, like a faded picture in a forgotten photo album. Bach’s violin sonatas were playing loud on the neighbor’s radio -the old man is almost deaf so he just cranks it up to wallow in beauty. The sound of rain before it falls, the wind rustling through the suffering plants on my little balcony. And there was a DVD in the player, a story on the screen. And on it went until all of a sudden one of the characters looked up and whispered words that lit the whole evening up. I’d rather spend my life next to birds than spend it wishing I had wings. After that the story went on, the radio kept playing and the first raindrops fell gently on the asphalt outside. All into nothingness. But I knew the evening would come back to me…

So the album has been out there, roaming, for two weeks now. People have been very kind to me. Some have told me they hummed along, which is the greatest compliment of all really. It will stay out there for a while, and that makes me feel good somehow. Wishing I had wings and then having them for just a little while. But it’s time to get next to some birds, pun not intended. I have been in my bunker for a long time, and I need to get out. I need to breathe fresh air, drive roads I haven’t driven before. And I guess these songs are one excuse to get it done. So this is the scheme… The wonderful Benjamin Shaw (please buy his EP, it’s a true gem) will come to Barcelona somewhere in April. We will each sing some songs on a stage (venue soon to be confirmed) and hand our albums to the fine people of Barcelona. And then in June I will have the tremendous honor to go to the airport and pick up the marvellous Tiny Ruins (she is a star). The both of us are currently working on some songs for an EP that should be finished by then. So in June we will get on the road and do a little tour through Spain. The idea is to get a little band together for the occasion. I’ve already convinced the equally stunning Ana Franco to play along. So if you’re somewhere in Spain, there is a little caravan coming your way. Slow but steady. And then, thinking far ahead, in Autumn I plan on crossing the big ocean and cruise through the USA with my guitar on my back and nothing but some songs in my pockets. But like I said: that’s far away still. First things first: Spring is almost round the corner.

I guess I’ll just be wishing I had wings next to birds…

Be warm,

Lieven

—I hold out my hands. As promised.

It’s called ‘Old Happiness’. 

It’s 49 minutes 27 seconds long.

It shelters 13 songs.

It embraces the beauty of Tiny Ruins, Ana Franco and Craven Canary. 

It has some amazing artwork by Sally Brownlie.

It can be bought on Amazon, Bandcamp, iTunes and the websites of Hi54lofi Records and Underused Records.

And most of all:

It has been a two year journey. I only got the physical copies myself today. So once the messenger was gone I quickly opened one of the cardboard boxes and sat down. I took the booklet out and listened to the tracks and read along while the music played. All those words. All the stories that have happened over the last two years. All the feelings that imposed themselves upon me and the loved ones who participated in this one way or another. Mostly sad tales… Why lie to myself: sorrowful times have passed.  

And I kept listening. I saw the sleepless nights, the sunny sunday afternoons, the many restless evenings. The running to and from my tiny recording studio with printed lyrics and guitars and mics. The quick recording, fearing to lose the impulse that made the song pop out. And then, after hours of playing and taping, the cigarette and beer while listening to what had just happened. To a part of me that had stepped from the dark within into the light. 

And then ‘Pretty lies’ faded out and silence followed and now I hand it all over to you. I hope maybe it accompanies you, your stories and walks and feelings…

I might be silent for a little while now. Maybe walk on the trails of beauty others are making. And be back whenever I’m ready to holler.

Love,

Lieven

The album ‘Old Happiness’ finally has been given a birth date. January 5, Tuesday. Thirteen songs will come out slowly but steadily into the light. Not too loud so as not to make the headache from new year’s celebration worse. 

The beautiful people of Underused Records and Hi54lofi Records will help me spread the word. Check out their websites for more info. 

I also plan to get on some stages to give the tunes to you in person. I will dress properly.

A lot of things are happening. I hope to share as many as possible with you.

Love,

Lieven

I think it all started a couple of months ago. It was a dear friend -Henry or Aubben I think- who pointed me towards the talent of a singer called Tiny Ruins. So I went over and listened to her songs, and watched how the rest of the evening turned into a blur. A couple of days later we both sent our cd’s to the other side of the world, and her music conquered my house. Not a day has passed since the day I found the package in the mailbox without me listening to the record at least once. It is one of the most honest and beautiful records I have heard in a very long time. And it is part of me now.

Then last week, after having restlessly looked for the heart of a Saturday night and not having found it, I couldn’t sleep. Sheets and blankets kicked around again. And words started coming to my mind, so after half an hour of battling my insomnia I got up and scribbled them down. The sun came up while I was playing the melody on the guitar, softly so as not to wake the neighbors through the open window. But the weird and wonderful part was that I did not hear myself sing it. It was Hollie’s voice singing about roads to nowhere and restlessness. So I asked her if she’d consider singing the track, and she kindly accepted. For which I am so grateful. Because here it is now, a week and a bit later. A song that has travelled from Spain to New Zealand and back a couple of times. Hollie singing and playing cello, a gentle friend of hers playing the banjo. And me floating on the beauty they made.

Road to nowhere. We hope you like it. 

Be well.

L.