MP3 Marty Holland - Where I'm From
Torch C&W to Bubble-gum Free Jazz.
17 MP3 Songs in this album (36:16) !
Related styles: POP: California Pop, AVANT GARDE: Mixed Media
People who are interested in Grateful Dead Frank Zappa Brian Wilson should consider this download.
Romancing the go-fast; an historically accurate accounting of 1980''s Methamphetamine culture in California, captured perfectly within a series of beautiful pop songs reminiscent of Brian Wilson, Frank Zappa and the Grateful Dead. Composer Marty Holland performs all instruments and sings on most tracks, all built from scratch between 2003 and 2006.
"Where I''m From" also features a rare performance by NY music legend Buzzy Linhart ("Friends").
More stuff about "WHERE I''M FROM"
Where I’m from is an escape to the good life of living out of your car and putting drano up your nose. The perfected chaos of speed-freak lifestyle is neatly packaged in this 40 minute CD. The perceived pleasures of self medication has more than a few twisted turns and straight up ironies. After awhile it’s all a parody of what you think is normal. Another lost item, something in that box that was auctioned away when you forgot to pay the storage bill. You’re lucky to have even a clue to what that particular item was..
A soul that seeks to understand something about itself.
To quote from a well known rock tune “Oh lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood”.
Reflections of growing up in a rural California town, a ‘wide spot’ in the road. It’s 1988. You’re consigned to a little gold-rush era settlement along highway 49. It’s a given that about half (or more) of the tiny populace are methamphetamine users.
To outsiders this is a world that never existed until now. The first hint you’ve arrived comes as a verbal assault from total strangers when attempting to use the one payphone in town. At the wrong time, wrong place. It’s usually the hub of activity in front of the “Gas n’ Go”. You might take in a meal at a local eatery and notice a large crowd of coffee swiling ‘jabbermouths’, not eating. At some point one guy will leave and everyone will follow him out the door, returning a short time later, jabbering more than before.
Sleep is a precious commodity that eludes the user. There are the party folks you don’t see between Monday and Wednesday. There are the maintenance users who usually work the ’trades’ i.e. roofers, drywall, etc… they’ll be the first to notice if one of the legs on your kitchen table is shorter than another (though they’re all the same length). They’ll rebuild your house when all you needed was a door-stop.
The girl at the counter of the quick mart, jaw half gone from chewing her teeth away. She talks incessantly in a jumble of half finished phrases, usually in a unnaturally quick tempo between drags on her cigarette. In a special world, it’s a holiday from the tedium, especially in summer when the river runs low and warm and hedonistic desires run high.
The urban landscape is also a pallet. The warm summer nights bring out a host of characters to the local jam sessions and poetry slams. An amusement park for those who might refer to themselves as such. Consider the complexities of this modern world where it’s not beyond reason to envy that person with a simpler existence. One where all worldly needs are just a skateboard, complete with a little ‘trailer’.
attachment. This ideal of freedom always comes with an element of peril. That one may fall into deep sleep some rainy night inside a makeshift cardboard shelter, the next morning end up sealed in a river bank many miles downstream.
Some make it, others don’t.
The story’s as old as the hills. Change is constant and unchanging, and how one shouldn’t read a book by its cover. It’s about the last person you’d imagine falling into the shit, not only falls into it, but learns to swim in it. Nothing on this CD is without some personal insight behind it.
The lyric "at best, there’s no point to it" sums up the helplessness one feels at these times. There’s a very cut and dry wisdom here. Forgiveness, temperament, an awareness of others around you.
At the Barbary Coast the house drummer spends most of the day putting Christmas tree lights all over his hardware. There was a guy across the way living under the freeway who sells meth and little tanks of nitrous oxide. Drive around all night. If you don’t attract the heat and end up in jail, you can watch the sun come up in the Oakland Hills. Start another day.
You’re beautiful when you can lay in the gutter, teeth all gone, face festering and stretched, and still you feel okay with it.
After-all you’re only as pretty as you feel, right?
Where I’m from runs the gambit of the basic human frailties. It’s inspiration, 1980’s and 90’s California methamphetamine culture, is in an actual time and place. It’s about finding and losing love, being appreciated and valued when no one seems to give a shit. When holding on for dear life is just that.
Marty Holland wants the listener to believe that empathy is food for the soul. No one is above the need for love…