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Bobby Joe Hope

by Jon Mckiel

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1.
I fell asleep in your beautiful dream, one sister to another Don’t ask the moon before you hear it from me How can you call upon the mother of the sun? I want to hear you speak, I want to only believe How maybe we’re so free but tell me what you mean, tell me what you seek Look at the mirror you become, in the presence of the one Pale blue refrain I hear the mourning dove It’s coming through my love. I hear the mourning dove You won’t be bound or be allowed to conceal The new shapes in the cup of tea The cold smoke and the yarrow leaves I know my baby wants to read them to me Don’t you wanna wash away? Every little thing we say, maybe Written in another language or maybe, no one can begin to say I see the vision and become in the presence of the one Through the wind and the rain I hear the mourning dove So clear my love
2.
How I want to be together How is the mind so like a feather? That the constitution has revealed itself So stronger winds will dry these ancient ways, whatever How I try to be so feather light Object permanence, a sign of the time Always and ever, the truth will be measured in time, in light or in the eye No more magnetic fields, who can tell you what is real? The hand that heals you plucks your eye Motionless, far from it, what have we learned from it What have we learned from it now? Object permanence, a time of the sign Always and ever, the truth can be measured in time In light, or in the eye
3.
Management 02:29
If no one told you about it, you could not always believe it It now collapses and how you know it Returns to light returns some way. Return to light today Try to remember it, nothing is effortless Try to imagine that, nothing is obvious Try to remind me that, words come through management I know that you know to see but there is a greed to me Warm things are different, and nothing is effortless All things agree to be, all things agree to me, you’ll see There is a greed you'll see
4.
In cold you slow the matter, put fingers to the temple Oh and how you travel, believing that your movement is a lie, I believe in My how we unravel in the presence of that mantle Most of all that matters fits between the blinking of an eye I believe in, believing A cold hand becomes the master, where once was only water Stole the people’s talk there, I have seen your tracks here in time I believe in, believing
5.
Night Garden 02:06
6.
Private Eye 04:54
When the colour’s gone in the future time With a shaking hand you can hold a light You can shine a light when the colour’s gone But there is no guide for the future time Private eye In the beautiful war I was merely deformed Of a single mind, was it you I was trying to find? On a paper moon in the summer, I can feel your heat In the summer time on a paper moon, down in the street, a private eye
7.
Deeper Shade 03:41
I asked the wind for the gift of you but was greeted by a dumb design Don't raise a hand to a beaten dog, merely show it an unkind eye In tempered glass is a slight of hand and a look of the eye How in spoken light I believe in a colour of another kind I can see a deeper shade, I know there’s a deeper shade in you The running window glass is a gift of time As cruel as the hand you know, there was no path before you I thought of hands the driest flowers distilled replies Now before my eyes I see the colour of another time I can see a deeper shade, I know there’s a deeper shade with you
8.
9.
In tempered glass, is a trick of time As cruel as any hand, there is no path In spoken light the dreamer pretends here To be as a friend, or to walk in the river I thought of your hands, a change in the sea Where nothing remains but a constancy Now we are forced to carry, the marks they will be here still Root like a willow branch, I belong to you Now there's no choice to carry, the marks they will be here still The secret of mana

about

How do you speak through a stranger? Contain multitudes. And begin to find new kinds of design in accident. True story. In September 2015 Jon bought an old Teac A-2340, a reel-to-reel tape recorder, tapes included. He exchanged a few emails with the online seller while negotiating a deal, but they never met. The first time Jon tested out the machine at home it disclosed a beautiful dream. A single tape of astounding samples from an unknown source. He nicknamed it the Royal Sampler. They began to jam together.

I want to hear you speak. The tape might have been a lost demo for the games of hide and seek that accustom us to evasion. Listening and gathering, the only way out was through. A collaboration constructed in echo. The completed songs seem to start mid-sentence, waiting a little further along the trail. Watch your step the ground gets uncertain by the bend. The maple trees in giggling fits. The shoreline no longer sure. I hear the mourning dove. Hang on a second. You were saying. Sometimes what’s past isn’t prologue it’s blocked. How you have to pause for your mind to work backwards. Not to remember but to unforget. What if something’s missing and you get stranded in “the futureless future”? Distend time? The not-so-distant waves wrinkling. An answer. 1968 isn’t just some numbers. Scraps of an otherwise. Maybe written in another language or maybe…Is that what you meant?

The album was recorded during the summer of 2019 at Jay Crocker’s home studio in Crousetown. Under the watchful eye of Edward Snowden and a Blue Heeler named Judy. Jay and Jon transferred all the material they could excavate from the Royal Sampler along with the dialogic samples Jon had been making since that fateful September introduction. They combined these two samples with the following design principle: even in the songs organized around a Jon sample, the stranger would be woven in. A shared sonic architecture. The rest belongs a mystery.

Tell me what you see. A game of hide and seek. A field wears the fog like an ancient argument. Wayward voices take shape just up ahead. Count down from 10 and be alone again. Abandoned to potential. In the green wide open. The colour of another time. The hammock gets twisted in the wind. Knotting and undoing. A fishnet. Let loose or captured, a life repeated, a life revised. Nothing is effortless. From another era insisting, there all along. I was there all along. These sounds, like truth, can be measured in time. Speak through me. Who can tell you what is real?

credits

released April 24, 2020

Recorded by Jay Crocker and Jon Mckiel in Crousetown, NS and Sackville, NB in 2019
Mixed by Jay Crocker
Mastered by Harris Newman
All songs written by Jon Mckiel

Album art: "Knock Knock", paper collage, 8.5x12", 2019 by Paul Henderson
Design by Paul Henderson

Thank you: Jay Crocker, Luke Patterson, Scott Brown, Andrea Thorne, Aaron Mangle, Unknown dude, Steve Lambke, Geordie Miller

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Jon Mckiel Halifax, Nova Scotia

They build humble cathedrals to sound and spirit, outposts for incantation, transmission, and reception

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