Week 18 // Rise Of The Supermoon

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Mount Everest - Rise Of The Supermoon

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
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Oh there’s a chill that’s in the air
I’m facing toward the East
And hoping light will show me where
At first the eye did open
Like a sliver in the doom
It widened and it shone on me
And oh what can I do?

Oh what can I do?
Awake for the rise of the Supermoon
I’m humbled down in front of you

And as I heard the child call
The satellite revealed itself
Received by one and all
And stumbling to our feet
The sheer colossus in our sights
And grounding us and calling us
And burning through the night

And oh what can I do?
Awake for the rise of the Supermoon
I’m humbled down in front of you

One by one
We stopped and saw
The sky lit up
The orb had changed the night
The Earth was still with human life
The thought was one across mankind:
We are so small tonight

So I was searching in the dark
And what I found out there
It put a picture in my heart
An honest souvenir
Of all the wonder that we knew
I’ll try to keep it there
I’m singing Lord what can I do?

Oh what can I do?
Awake for the rise of the Supermoon
And I’m humbled down in front of you

Notes
 width= Saturday night I wen’t out in the car just after sunset to look for a good view of what the internet has unanimously dubbed the Supermoon: the largest full moon visible in nearly two decades. I parked the car at Centennial Park – a sprawling, unmaintained tract of fields and hills in the center of the suburban mass. I mounted a small hill and attempted to orient myself in search of the moon. It was nowhere to be found, and just as frustration was beginning to mount, I turned around to find the first enormous sliver peaking over the horizon through a stand of trees. I stood transfixed, and then I was suddenly on the move in search of an unobstructed view. My eyes never left the growing orb as I stumbled down the darkened hill and hacked through bushes to finally find myself standing on a golf course, the horizon open wide, and the Supermoon hanging triumphantly above the wooded expanse. It was stupefying.

The world stood perfectly still as I stood there lost in the wonder of the colossus above. Somewhere a child cried out “It’s the moon!” What a perfect moment. Although I stood by myself, I was not alone. People all over the East coast were looking at the same thing, and soon the moon would rise over the rest of America, and the world as a whole would be treated to a singularly unique sight. I’m not sure how long I stayed there looking at the massive unblinking eye, but as I drove home I saw evidence of humanity’s collective reaction. As I drove down a four lane highway I saw a car come to a complete stop in the middle of its lane so that the driver could crane his head out of the window for a better view. Humanity stopped in it’s tracks to take in the sight of the moon.

It is so comforting to know that in an age of cynicism we are not totally beyond wonder. Just as our primitive ancestors would have marveled at the familiar satellite suddenly transformed, so do we marvel. We have seen the moon before, but we have not seen the moon like this. I feel as though I have seen humanity before, but I have not seen humanity like this. All too often it is tragedy or disaster that captures our collective attention (and often enough it should). On Saturday night is was wonder. May we hold on to that wonder as tightly as we can.

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse

If you “like” and “tweet” this song I will be grateful because more people will hear my music!

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Week 17 // Earthlings

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Mount Everest - Earthlings

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
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I’ve been up to something
Up against the mountain
Run to another ocean
Cursing and laughing and I am alive again

And way across the continent
There’s a notion in my mind
And it has to do with choices
And all the forces in our lives
And it’s all about the concept
That it don’t matter if it’s a lie
That the world is on our side
If the world is on our side

And everyone knows it’s a good thing
Knowing it ends in a heartbeat
Knowing the mind of an earthling
Knowing you’re not alone

And way across the continent
There’s a notion (an ocean…?) in my mind
And it has to do with choices
And all the forces in our lives
And it’s all about the concept
That it don’t matter if it’s a lie
That the world is on our side
If the world is on our side

Notes
 width= This week’s song is a synthsplosive reflection on my recent trip to California. This was the kind of trip that renewed my sense of humanity, my sense of self, and my sense of purpose. There’s something so special about leaving your environment and connecting with people who aren’t usually around. That’s what this song is about. I wanted to capture the limitless optimism and fleeting nature of such a trip. There is a need to connect meaningfully, yet rapidly with people; to get every drop you can get before the inevitable end. In such a situation, interactions become so intensely human. Every conversation seems to include a revelation. Every activity is an inspiration. Friends and family become the whole of humanity. It’s a buzzing microcosm – a miniature society to explore that abruptly vanishes. Perhaps I’m romanticizing a simple vacation, but damn it was a good vacation.

No folk instruments this week. Just synth and electric guitar playing off two and three part vocal harmonies. I only had my banjo with me on my trip, so it makes sense to want to electrify this week. This is a pop number that jumps abruptly between parts and then ends quickly. I had a lot of fun playing with transitions, and trying to make each part a little different with each repetition. I also had a blast with the guitar/synth solo action at the end. Also, extra credit goes to whoever can find the homage to the Flaming Lips! (There’s probably more than just the one I’m aware of…)

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse

If you “like” and “tweet” this song I will be grateful because more people will hear my music!

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Week 15 // A Soul Anatomy Game

A call to Visual Artists! If you are an artist please click here!

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Mount Everest - A Soul Anatomy Game

Featured Performers:
Nick Mastors
Miguel Williams
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
View Lyrics

It’s just a little bit of heart
It’s just a little bit of shame
It’s just a little bit of innocence
It’s just a little bit untamed
And it’s a good amount of restlessness
And on the road the inches on the map get called the game

I took a drive to see the capitol
I wondered what it would say to me
I thought of all the ways I could lose control
Like the pillars of history
And the giants all around me told me
Son you gotta learn your soul anatomy

Your head, your heart
Your hands, your feet
Your mind, your thoughts
The rest is everybody else
The rest is yours
To know, to love
To grow, to feel
To discover that the less you feel the less you’ll know
The less you know, the worse you’re gonna feel

Just think of your worst memories
And all the days that left you scarred
And then endeavor to believe
The most important days are hard
That all your darkest days are beacons of the light that’s in your heart
And make you love the life you’ve got

Your head, your heart
Your hands, your feet
Your mind, your thoughts
The rest is everybody else
The rest is yours
To know, to love
To grow, to feel
To discover that the less you feel the less you’ll know
The less you know, the worse you’re gonna feel
And it’s better to learn to feel

Notes
 width=Greetings from California! I’m here visiting friends and family, but you won’t notice any difference around here, because I’ve pre-recorded songs in advance to last us through next Monday. I couldn’t have done it without some help though, and I had plenty in the form of Nick Mastors and Miguel Williams. These guys are two of my greatest friends, and also my former band mates, so it felt just like old times getting together and making up some songs.

The geneses of this song began in Nick’s brain, and we all attacked it from every angle until we had something all three of us could call our own. Listen for Nick’s signature beats, e-bow guitar, and twiddly-funk. Also keep your ears open for a beautiful vocal breakdown and some wonderful acoustic guitar provided by Miguel. My only regret is that Miguel couldn’t stay until I had written the lyrics in order to sing them all with me. Maybe next time.

A soul anatomy game? I was thinking about all the games that I used to play in my head as a kid in the back seat on long car rides. Maybe I was trying to find out-of-state plates, or looking for pictures in clouds. I still play games to keep my mind occupied when I’m driving alone on a long trip, but long trips get so introspective that I sometimes lose track of the game and find myself someplace else. In particular I was thinking about one trip that I took last fall to Washington, DC for Jon Stewart’s Rally to Restore Sanity. It was the morning after I came up with the idea for this blog, and I had been so exited about it the entire night that I hadn’t slept a wink. I was recklessly exhausted, but desperate to make the rally. As I drove I thought about all the possibility inherent in making myself write a song every week, and I realized that I was about to have to become infinitely more honest and familiar with myself. Week after week I would learn my soul inside and out.

But this song isn’t all about driving down to see Jon Stewart, giddy about a website. It’s about feeling your hardest feelings in order to better know your own soul. If there is a thesis statement in this song, it is some combination between the second verse and the end of the last chorus: “Endeavor to believe the most important days are hard, and all your darkest days are beacons of the light that’s in your heart… The less you feel, the less you’ll know, the less you know the worse you’re gonna feel. And it’s better to learn to feel.” In other words, if you avoid the things that are hard about your life, and try not to feel them, you will not truly know yourself and you’ll only make it worse. We sometimes try to bury our hard feelings, but I suggest we embrace them in order to find a more complete understanding of ourselves. This song is supposed to be optimistic!

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse

If you “like” and “tweet” this song I will be grateful because more people will hear my music!

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Week 13 // Spires

A call to Visual Artists! If you are an artist please click here!

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Mount Everest - Spires

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
View Lyrics

Outside of the city
And up in my bedroom
Away from the buildings
And the people and the games

I look at the city
It’s all full of bedrooms
Stacked high in the buildings
And the people look the same

I’ve never been much of the city kind
I got a lack of understanding
A point of view I cannot bear

But I look at the city and its twisted metal climb
And I’m wondering how can anybody be alive in there?

And at the end of all that was
When human hearts will be the end of us
When the towers reach the Sun

And all the spires will decay
And soon the wind will blow the rest away
The debt will be repaid

Way out in the country
Away from the suburbs
Away from the city and the sound
And in the air

I think of the city
And all the good people
And all of the love that’s to be had for living there

But I’ve only ever fallen in love out in the air
Way out of the city
Where the world’s got room to spare

And somewhere in the suburbs
There’s a life without a care
But there’s way too much to care about

And at the end of all that was
When human hearts will be the end of us
When the towers reach the Sun

And all the spires will decay
And soon the wind will blow the rest away
The debt will be repaid

Notes
 width=In college I majored in Studio Art and I often made pictures of cityscapes, and people in cities, and giant animals in cities, and on and on. One day a classmate approached me and said, “Jesse, your work is so urban… are you, like, from New York City?” I laughed to myself and then admitted to her that I had grown up in a comfortable suburb of Boston. In fact, I have never lived in an urban environment. I have split my life between the suburbs and the woods, only venturing into urban areas on occasion and usually for recreational purposes.

I like cities, but they also perplex me. I haven’t spent enough time in them to really understand what lies beyond the relative excitement compared to my own subdued environment. They also intimidate me a little bit: a vital aspect of my artistic fascination with them. When my classmate asked if I was from New York City, for a moment I felt like I had been a terrible impostor, misrepresenting myself through my artwork. But then I looked at my work and saw a cartoonish and warped unreality. I realized that I was working from an honest perspective. I was depicting cities through the eyes of a total outsider.

My friend Nick (who grew up quite literally in the woods) has said to me numerous times that he believes that cities are unnatural environments for the human animal. I have often been inclined to agree with him, but ultimately I don’t. Human beings are so social, thriving on one another’s company, so the city must be the ultimate expression of our nature. But therein lies a great danger. In our desire to live together we have built vast concrete machines that spew toxins and swallow land. It is a little scary.

This song is about the contradiction inherent in cities, as described by an outsider. There is so much love to be found amongst so many people, but damn it if the cities aren’t going to drag us all down eventually. Sometimes it makes me want to pack up and move downtown. Sometimes it makes me want to run for the hills. It is also about the choices that we have about where to situate ourselves. The song seems to make a value judgment that the only truly human and real places to live are in the extremes: The country and and the city. The suburbs can be described as diluted versions of both.

With this song I wanted to get back to basics a little bit with the instrumentation. It is played only on bass, nylon-stringed acoustic guitar, and drums (at least what passes for drums around here). I wanted it to end with somewhat of a vocal cacophony to simulate what I feel and hear when I look up at a really tall building.

Here’s hoping your Valentines Day doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse

If you “like” and “tweet” this song I will be grateful because more people will hear my music!

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Week 12 // The Void and the Great Unknown

A call to Visual Artists! If you are an artist please click here!

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Mount Everest - The Void and the Great Unknown

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
View Lyrics

I’ve been wide awake
Since 1985
How many now have closed their eyes
Since I first opened mine?

And in the morning light
I hear it every time
That’s when I know the voice of God
Has been keeping me alive

And I know I’ve been left alone
With the void and the great unknown
And the world and it’s quiet beauty call
And I feel that it’s my own

The moon, the earth
The edge, the search
The itch, the hurt
My open eyes
It’s what’s keeping me alive
And it kills me every time

I knew it when I was a child
That the night would be only mine
That the darkness would swallow the light
That there are colors on either side

That there are colors that must be named
And there were questions from the start
And there’s a vastness that remains
And there are answers in the dark

The moon, the earth
The edge, the search
The itch, the hurt
My open eyes
It’s what’s keeping me alive
And it kills me every time

Notes
 width=Those who know me well will tell you that I am quite the night-owl. But it goes a little deeper than that. While I do have one fully diagnosed sleep disorder, I also believe myself to be one of the world’s great undiagnosed insomniacs. I never sleep at night. I don’t know what a good night’s sleep is like, and I can tell you in all honesty that I don’t know what somebody means when they say they are well rested. I have never experienced that; at least not that I can remember, and not in the way that everyone else means it. My song this week is about everything that is beautiful about insomnia.

The night is mine. I have it to myself, and sometimes it reveals its secrets. Everything is different in the middle of the night. Things sound different. Things look different. The earth is still and quiet. Time moves differently. Sometimes I try to pay attention to the night, to look into it, to find out what it really is. It’s like trying to unravel some great mystery. If sleep doesn’t come easily, it makes sense to use that time. Sometimes I use it philosophically, and sometimes I use it productively. Something happens to me in the middle of the night. My ideas become lucid. I can translate my ideas into form more easily. For me, the middle of the night is a muse. In some way, everything I have ever written, drawn, or played is a commentary on the night. It is my partner.

This week I continue to explore what I’ve come to recognize as a curious relationship developing between my banjo and my synthesizer. It seems to me that they have something to say to each other, and maybe even something to say about each other. It is a relationship that I am interested to see develop a little more. I suppose what I am really trying to do is to decipher what they have in common. I think they have more in common than they would like to admit.

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse

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Week 9 // 20 Questions For Jared Loughner

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Mount Everest - 20 Questions For Jared Loughner

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
View Lyrics

Can you confront your greatest fear?
Where will you be this time next year?

And on a scale from one to ten
Was the count consistent with your intent?

Are you guilty when you tell a lie?
What must you do before you die?

Did you ever hope you’d have a wife
and kids and live a simple life?
And are you satisfied?

Did they get what they deserved?
And are you happy with your work?
And can you sympathize at all?
And are you dead inside?

Just what does it feel like when
Your mind can break but cannot mend?

And are you living in the dark?
What force could shape you/break our hearts?

Is Arizona on the brink?
America what do you think?

Was that your purpose:
Drive the wedge,
And spread the fire,
And wake the dead with a blow to the head?

And did they get what they deserved?
And are you happy with your work?
And what was all that shit you said
About new currency and mind control?
Is this some kind of joke?
Is this some kind of sick attempt at playing games?
At playing loose with lives?
At playing God?
So tell me can you sympathize at all?
And are you dead inside?

Notes:
 width=I tried so damn hard this week not to write a song about Jared Loughner and the mass shooting that took place in Tucson. I spent the weekend working on something that I thought would be a somewhat emotional travel song about my generational zeitgeist and our general malaise, like I do. But then I put pencil to paper and out came this song.

I wanted so badly to wait until I could find some understanding and perspective on the event before I allowed myself to make my feelings on the subject a matter of public record. But I couldn’t stop myself. I realized that understanding and perspective would most likely never come, because one cannot make sense of an atrocity perpetrated by a man who is so impenetrable and ill as Jared Loughner. So I asked him (in my song) a series of questions. Some of the questions are digging for his humanity, which surely must be in there somewhere. Some of them are looking for his motive, the mystery of which has prompted a national debate as polarizing as any in recent memory. Some of the questions are angry indictments, because when I think about Jared Loughner I want to scream and tear down his insanity to find one good reason to think of him as a human being, but I can’t.

I think Loughner took a look at a house divided an decided to try to burn it down. I was moved this week by President Obama’s incredibly powerful speech at the memorial in Tucson. It is taking all of me not to hurl accusations of culpability at people other than Loughner. I am not immune to the national dialogue, and I can’t help myself from coming down in a certain way on the issue, but in the spirit of the President’s speech and my firm belief that what Loughner really wanted was to tear us ever further apart, I will refrain.

On a lighter note, I purchased a banjo! I used it on this song, along with a mandolin, a synthesizer, a harmonica, and my voice. To all the children out there, I’m sorry for exposing you for the first time ever to the word “shit” in this song. I know it’s a bad word, but I used it because It’s how I felt and I don’t believe in censorship. Don’t ever say it in front of your parents.

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.

~Jesse

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Week 7 // Counting Up From One

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Mount Everest - Counting Up From One

Featured Performers:
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
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Another lifetime was the curse
We were so young
The day the decade dashed our hopes in old ’01
And what we lost back then
We’ve only just begun to understand
We built the wall, we bought the gun

It’s not just innocence we’ve given up this time
No New Year’s resolution will suffice for us
Ten years now we’ve given to the night
Well, not again, this year I’m putting up a fight

Watch this world breaking
Our hearts give
We were mistaken
It’s just one decade lost to the wolves
And it’s over now

Get the kids to say
Get the kids to say we’ve changed our ways
And all us old folk
We can all just fade away
And let the world move on
It’s better off this way

And all us young folk
We’re killing for the cause
And raising kids who will never know just what they’ve lost
They’ll never know who stole from them
They’ll never know the cost
And we can care for them and envy them

Watch this world breaking
Our hearts give
We were mistaken
It’s just one decade lost to the wolves
And it’s over now

What becomes of us now?
What of all the young ones?
What of all the old ones carrying the young ones?
Just what will become of us?
When the light is there in front of us
When the score is here to settle us
When the road is all ahead of us
We’ll be living by the gun
My God, we’re counting up from one

What becomes of us now?
What becomes of us now?
Just what will become of us?
Just what we’ll become
To see the world in front of us
To learn from all the old ones
To learn from all the young ones carrying the old ones
We’re counting up from one
We’re counting up from one


Notes:
 width= Happy New Year from Mount Everest! As the New Year is by far my favorite holiday for it’s spirit of renewal and celebration, I could not help but run with that theme this week. At a New Year’s Eve party on Friday night I couldn’t help but notice how often conversation drifted toward emerging from not only the last year, but the last decade as a whole. There was some debate over whether or not we’d already left the decade a year ago, but I think the catharsis that people were feeling stemmed from finally escaping the ten year stretch that started in 2001, the year that everything changed. To look at ourselves as a collective whole before and after that year, it is hard to imagine that ten years have really gone by since New Years 2001.

This song is about stepping out of the rubble of a failed decade, rubbing your eyes in the sunlight and looking around. You are still covered head to toe in the dust and refuse of the aughts with it’s wars and it’s disasters, it’s terrorism and our national loss of innocence (and a generational loss of innocence for us so called “Millennials“), and it’s financial meltdowns and oil spills and the list goes on. This song doesn’t presuppose that the next decade will be any better for us. In all likelihood the paradigm has shifted for the long haul. What the song does suggest is that this is a time for reflection, a time to look at the past and think about the future. For my generation, it’s a time to stop pointing fingers at our parents’ generation and find out what we can learn from them, because it’s coming up on our turn up to bat. It’s a time to pull together to make this new decade a lot better than the last one. If that sounds idealistic, then good. We’ve counted to ten on the last decade, and 2011 affords us the chance to start count again. I don’t know about you, but that has me feeling pretty good.

Here’s hoping your decade doesn’t totally suck.

~Jesse

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Week 5 // In The End We Are All Pictures

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Mount Everest - In The End We Are All Pictures

Featured Performers:
Nick Mastors
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
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Your name they should have known
But for your beauty you were left alone
And in your lonesome way you came alive
But for the color and the weight you had to die

It was an honest life
Some kind of sacrifice
With your most holy eye
You set upon their love
And their desire
Oh their very fire
You saw what no one would admit
You saw the spire

Could you let the standard lie? No
Could you bear all the meaning in what’s alive?
Could you measure the love you saw in light? No No
Could you bury the burden you held inside?

Could you lend me some light?
Could you lend me some life?
You could lend me some color
You could give me your sight
You’d be unburdened
But for all your love you could not be denied

Was love the only thing you lost?
The way you called out in the night
The way you fought
The poison in your thoughts
You were a man of God
You were a man of heart
Embedded in your art

Good God they fought you from the start
And you felt it so
And you held it so close

Could you let the standard lie? No
Could you bear all the meaning in what’s alive?
Could you measure the love you saw in light? No No
Could you bury the burden you held inside?

Could you lend me some light?
Could you lend me some life?
You could lend me some color
You could give me your sight
You’d be unburdened
But for all your love you could not be denied

God loves you


Notes:
This week’s song is for Vincent Van Gogh. His passion and his mental illness enabled him to see the world with a veil pulled away. It tortured him and turned him into a social pariah, and eventually it lead him to suicide. He endured all of this so that the rest of us would eventually see what he saw. He once studied in seminary, where his illness and social peculiarity denied him a traditional ministry. He said about his artwork (and I will paraphrase) that some men tell the word of God through stories, but he could only tell it through pictures. He was able to change the world, but it was a burden that would weigh too heavily. But did Vincent Van Gogh really change the world? Yes, of course he did. That is a central assumption that I will make here, and it is not one that I care to defend. He left the world a better place because he made pure art.

I will admit that I had not thought a great deal about Van Gogh recently until my brother, Eben Lindsey, begged and pleaded with me to watch the most recent season of the British sci-fi series, Doctor Who (wtf?). The Doctor is a time traveler, and in one episode he visits Van Gogh who helps to defeat an invisible alien that only he can see. Why can Van Gogh see it? Because he can see more than the rest of us. It is clever and cute, and in the end it is quite touching. The Doc tries to help Van Gogh by bringing him to the twenty-first century to show him what he was never able to see in his lifetime: that his work is beloved, and that humanity has been truly touched by his vision. But when returned to his own time he still takes his own life. Why? Because his madness wasn’t going to be cured by recognition. It wasn’t going to be cured at all. It was part and parcel to his gift, and I think that this silly British sci-fi romp hit the nail right on the head. Van Gogh’s madness was his vision and his vision was his madness. We all owe him a great debt of gratitude for suffering as long as he did so that the rest of us might get a brief glimpse into the mind of a man so passionate, a man who saw beauty and color and light all around him even as he battled a darkness so profound. So this one is for Vincent.

Nick and I composed the music for this song in less than two days of hanging out and eating pizza and drinking beer together. It was great fun, totally productive, creatively rewarding, and completely awesome. Nick proved himself a master of time much like Doctor Who, although here I am referring to time signatures and not time travel. We each laid down guitar and keys. I got to rock my bass, and Nick did most of the work with the beats. I was happy because I got to play a guitar solo. A simple one, but a guitar solo nonetheless.

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck,

~Jesse

I would refer you to fellow Massachusetts native Jonathan Richman who sang so lovingly “Have you heard about the painter Vincent Van Gogh who loved color and who let it show?”

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Week 4 // Katydid

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Mount Everest - Katydid

Featured Performers:
Nick Mastors
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
View Lyrics

You are alive
You are alive
And you’re convinced it never ends
You’ll never die
And all your creditors
And your competitors
Will age and fail and slip away
And you’ll survive

And you’re alone
You are alone
All of your life you’ve held the seeds
You could have sown
And you’re not suffering
It isn’t frightening
It isn’t anything

How you’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Eat your heart out
Eat your heart
You’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Reach your heart out
Reach

And you’re not there
You’re never there
And you’re amazed the absentee’s your nom de guerre
And your acquaintances
And your accomplices
All wonder when and where you’ll choose to reappear

And on your own
You’ll never know
The way your heart can break and mend and overflow
You are not suffering
It isn’t frighting
It isn’t anything

How you’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Eat your heart out
Eat your heart
You’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Reach your heart out
Reach

Look again
Look again
You can eat your heart out
You’ve been busy in your secret hide out
You’ve got some new friends
They can be the lookout
Keeping all the secrets in their secret hideout
Look again
Look again
You can see the stars out
1-2-3-4 eat your heart out

How you’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Eat your heart out
Eat your heart
You’ll reach your heart
You’ll eat your heart out
Reach your heart out
Reach


Notes:
Moons ago, before this website, Nick and I once played in a band called Lightning Bug with several wonderful friends. We played shows in the city of Philadelphia, and lived, recorded, and practiced all together all of the time. Perhaps that is why, when Nick and I got together in our native homeland of New England, and began to write music together once again, one of the first tracks we began work on was named after an insect – much like our dearly departed band. The name Katydid preceded the lyrical content of the song. In fact, nearly every song Mount Everest writes begins with a non sequitur working title that almost always evaporates before the song sees the light of day. In this rare instance, the name had much more staying power than usual, and although this song has nothing to do with insects, perhaps it is a thematically entomological homage to our late band which we loved so well.

A little more than a year ago I was afflicted with a vocal injury that had lasted for the better part of a year. It kept me from doing this sort of thing, and often made even simple conversations difficult. In the end, only a surgical procedure could restore my voice. The procedure was a success, but in the midst of my time spent with my injury I become frustrated with life, my bad luck, and my own sense of powerlessness over my situation. In my frustration I withdrew from a great many relationships in my life and became somewhat of an enigma to certain people, some of whom I regret to say I hurt. That is what this song is about. It is about being the enigma. It is about wanting to reach out but not knowing how. It is about trying to go it alone and realizing that not only is that impossible, but it’s reckless.

On a separate note: in the process of writing this song, Nick and I got into a spectacular argument! It made us miss the old days when there were multiple tie-breaking votes to dictate the outcome of our creative disagreements. Perhaps that is why the song still bears its insectoid moniker: to remind us of our past so we’ll remember that we’ve been getting along at this for a pretty long time.

Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.

~Jesse

P.S.
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