MP3 Larry Lines - Numen
Teach an addict jazz, eat Dave Matthews and Manhatten Transfer for breakfast, and throw in some keyboards with the guitar driven singer/songwriter mania.
10 MP3 Songs
ROCK: Modern Rock, POP: with Live-band Production
Numen: a spiritual force or influence often identified with a natural object, phenomenon, or place
I remember growing up in New Jersey. I remember being a kid with kid friends. I don''t remember having kid thoughts. I remember progression, from a kid with potential to being a kid with experience. I remember a long drive to Texas made by my mother that saved my ass. I remember Sting telling me he would be watching me the whole way. The song wouldn''t stop. Every region, every radio station. It was a rebuke.
I remember Texas and a potential for my teenage years to be "different". I remember walking, running and then learning to drive and having moments of longing as I drove from one life threatening situation to another. If you asked me to drive you somewhere, I drove there. I got in and I drove. I didn''t stop. Throw something in my car, and I drove it wherever you wanted it. The cash was beside the point. There was something about the moving. Walking, running, driving... Didn''t matter.
I went to treatment for five months at 17. It was another movement. A progression from one place to another in which I found some peace. I can understand why a lot of people can''t stay out of prison. It is no destination, and it certainly removes any decision making.
Then I went to Boston. A couple years struggling obsessively with music followed by a long walk on the Appalachian Trail. A couple years of literally driving around the country. Boston to Albuquerque. Albuquerque to Houston. Houston to Boston. Houston to Albuquerque. I lost count of how many times I have driven into each.
Then driving became too painful. The beauty of coming down the pass into Albuquerque alone became unbearable. I just stopped. I got an apartment and started programming. I have been thinking it was something different for years. It isn''t. Just another road trip alone. A place for other lives to take focus. A personal reflection of myself as art.
I always have at least three potential operating systems on my computer. I recently noticed that I can''t get anything accomplished when I am logged into Windows. I wondered why. When I am in Linux, I am suddenly doing four things at once. In Windows, the destination is handed to me. I have nowhere to go. I don''t know what to do with a bunch of tools that feel like like they were made for someone else. I can still write programs in Windows, but not before I surf the internet for three hours.
When I start up Linux, it feels so open. There is so much possibility. If I want to, I can alter the tools I am using. I can make different tools. I can invent a new destination. I can drive to any city I want. I can re-invent myself at will. I can drive until I am nearly blind and crash out in a rest stop and wake up to a river of people in Kentucky having a picnic after church. "Save your soul."
We finished recording this album two years ago. I know what I said. I know what I named it, "Numen" after a poem that I wrote six years ago for a girl I am crazy about. I just didn''t know what it meant:
It is the place I go when I am walking, running, driving, coding or writing music. It is my own place. It is very personal to me. I have not wanted anyone else to be there with me. There are so many connections to so many things. So many parts of me that I have not wanted anyone else to see. A part of being a child that I feel will be lost. A spiritual connection that only takes place on the way to a destination, not what happens when you have arrived. I have spent my entire life trying not to arrive. I want to be in perpetual transit. I want the song to never end.
I remember driving endlessly around the Southwest listening to One Tree Hill by U2 on the Joshua Tree. The Northeast - the Sweet Embrace of Life on Wynton''s In This House On This Morning. The Smoky Mountain corridor - Shaking the Tree by Peter Gabriel.
We all have moments like these. Where a piece of music embodies our longing. At the moment of that longing, you seem to think you know exactly what it is you have been missing. A point that we often miss is that the longing is the goal. Desire. Wanting. There is no destination. I want life. I want to be here. I want to see the sun rise over my dashboard. I want to feel lonely in Hong Kong waiting for my ticket home to see my wife and son. I want to be able to taste how much I miss Justine. I want to remember these feelings when I reach the destination. When I get home...
But something happens to us. We get caught up in the perception of the inanity of daily life. I hunger for the open road. For an unfinished project. For anything new and unresolved. For a record that is missing something. What? For the love of God, what the fuck is missing from this record? I think I know. A record needs to released to be completed. A trip needs to be shared to really take on the colors of longing in our memories. "I can still remember the way she looked in Marfa." "The things she said in a dust storm outside of El Paso." And what a perfect metaphor for a recording full of songs about road trips.
This record needs you to listen to it. Hop in. We''re going somewhere.