315. Simon Milliman – Album #11 Jetsam, The Lies We Tell Ourselves and Bringing Back Short Shorts from the 1980’s NBA

I started this thing off with a synthwave concept. From the beginning I knew I had failed at that concept and this would be something out of my control. This seems fitting since it’s been a hell of a month and life has definitely felt out of my control. Free will is perhaps my only credo and maybe that got into this album, the music having a will of its own, the songs leading me instead of me leading the songs. Whatever, Songs. Do what you want. I told a friend about a week ago that I have no songs in me right now. It’s been that kind of month. What does a songwriter do with no songs within them? Gather them from the ether. Beach comb what troubles you, eyeing anything that glitters. Piece them together like random puzzles tossed up on shore and then forced together on a rainy beach. They don’t fit? Who cares. It’s been that kind of month. I’ve been contemplating how every truth is a lie, how we all lie to ourselves and other people—sometimes with the best of intensions. Other times not. Over the past couple of years I have been putting forth a concentrated effort to rid myself of hypocrisy. It’s not easy. Perhaps the closest I’ll get is admitting that I’m lying to myself. The song, False Sanctuaries, somewhat speaks to that: When you get the best of me/I am ageless like I’ve never been born/the idea of an idea… The idea of an idea. That sounds like some Matrix b.s. Don’t listen to me. I’m probably lying, after all. The idea of lying to ourselves comes up again in, August Fears. My shapeshifting heart/I used to jump when they told me to jump/you think that’s not you/you just have different voices calling. This all sounds pessimistic, yet I believe this is us in our optimum state: telling ourselves noble lies that get us through our days and nights. Lies such as, everything will be alright, or, everyone can be happy if they try. Nice things to say, but, really, let’s get serious. Not everything will be alright. Some things won’t. Some people won’t. Not everyone can be happy. Still, Bob Marley echoes in my brain, Everything gonna be alright. You’re lying to me, Bob, but I’m going to keep believing you. Life is short, after all. The finale to the album is, Mr Majestic. I don’t want to say the song wallows in this idea of lying to ourselves, but…(sigh)… The first two thirds of Mr Majestic sound like I don’t know what a song is. The last third is when I actually sing to my eldest child, Sunny, about how they used to greet me after I had worked all night and I would cuddle with them and watch the morning kid shows on PBS. Sunny would lumber down the stairs of our townhouse and look up and me asking, “Snuggle-buggle?” The answer was always, “Yes.” This will be always/this will be you and me. Sunny is 19 now. We’ve been through a lot together these 19 years. Not all of it snuggle-buggling. I’ve been majestic/I’ve been despair/there is no always/but there is still you and me. It’s been that kind of month. Listen here: https://soundcloud.com/user-776700869/sets/jetsam

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