Category: MY STUFF


Chris Way – Record Re-Release: “Needle Out” (2009)

February 26th, 2018

 
 
 
Hi all!

My 2009 record, “Needle Out”, has been re-released. I fixed up “Hollow Book, Winter Glove”, fixed song sequencing issues, and re-mastered select tracks. I also switched from iTunes to Bandcamp.

Find it on Bandcamp here.

$8 gets you 11 tracks, with a running time of about 35 minutes. This is a spare, intense collection of midtempo acoustic songs mixed in with a few hoarse, raw shouters. My first proper soul-folk record.

Cover art, songs, performances, mixing, etc all by me, except “Headlights / Drown”, which featured input from Jess Hotckiss.

For more of my music, go here: chrisway.bandcamp.com
Also here: soundcloud.com/mangrovecoil

[posted by: C Way at 3:41 PM]

[file under: Music ||| Music ||| MY STUFF]
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Chris Way – New Record: “White Hidden Flower” (Jan 2018)

January 11th, 2018

 
 
 
My eighth record, “White Hidden Flower”, was released today and is now available on Bandcamp here.

$10 gets you 17 digital tracks of good ol’ fashioned C.Way dark-folk goodness. Or you can just stream and see what you like piecemeal.

This record was a labor of love and brings together songs from the last ten or so years of my life. It’s mix of originals and covers, some instrumentals, some classical songs, some folk songs. Some soft things, some tender things, some dark things, some intense things. A little lo-fi here and there too. Everything homecooked with love for thee.

Beautiful mastering work by my producer Andrew Parsegian made all the songs swim together and sound of a piece (as much as could be expected given the disparate origins/eras of some of these tunes). And please note the gorgeous art by Jess Barnett (www.jessbarnett.com), who kindly let me use this painting, entitled “Ashes I”, for the front cover.

I’m proud of these songs and thank you to everyone who inspired them: you know who you are. I am so happy to bring this record to all of you.

p.s. here’s the back cover (using a detail from a painting by R Noglow called “flood iii”):

ALT

[posted by: C Way at 9:53 PM]

[file under: Music ||| MY STUFF]
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Tindersticks – Dancing (cover by Chris Way)

October 14th, 2017

 
 
 
Here’s a song I just recorded, a cover of “Dancing” off Tindersticks’ sublime 1997 record “Curtains”. Enjoy and let me know what you think please –>

[posted by: C Way at 1:17 PM]

[file under: Music ||| MY STUFF]
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Little Boxes of Glowy Fake

March 12th, 2017

 
 
 
     Great post the other day by Ross Douthat in the NY Times (“Resist the Internet”) about what it would look like to put some controls on our largely unfettered use and abuse of the internet (which means our use and abuse of handheld smart devices, since that’s increasingly what the internet means for most people). Made me think about these little portals, these glowy rectangles that have increasingly assumed more and more power in our lives.
     (Warning: Old-man get-off-my-lawn screed approacheth; back out now if you’ve had your fill of this kind of thing) It used to be on the subway that, at any given moment, a handful of people would be staring at their little gadgets. “Handful” turned into “some”. “Some” became “half”. Now, most mornings, it’s a depressingly clear “most”. Most people standing or sitting, necks craned, staring at their pocketsized diminishments of reality, these dinky sheeny holes displaying their dinky sheeny objects. Compulsively caressing, petting, stroking their screens. Like they were wee flat beasts that needed constant reassurance. And these are capable, smart New Yorkers who know better, who deep down know that it’s basically an erosion of the human spirit to choose to live in the thrall of these overpriced little gadgets, huffing and puffing away on the consumer hamsterwheel, chasing after the next upgrade & OS & Yosemite this and Lollipop that. Capable, smart New Yorkers who know all this but give in anyway, shrugging & grinning “can’t help myself” gotta like/retweet/follow Bejeweled triple bonus Flappy Bird double swipe zoom-in zoom-out look at my favorite photos scrollscrollscroll.     (Just like smart people who knew better than to binge-watch shit reality shows and humiliation shows when they started to creep into the collective unconscious years ago. Who helped create our current debased cultural moment by consuming & thereby normalizing that televised pustulence. Who knew better but did it anyway because it’s “a train wreck” that they “have to watch”; because it’s their “guilty indulgence.”)
     Now, don’t get me wrong — I’m not against technology, or mobile smart devices. Tech is a tool, it’s neutral. I’m against the irresponsible over-use of all this crap, the voluntary submission to them so that they are no longer just helpful tools, means to ends, but ends themselves. I’m against handing our lives over to smart devices while doing little more with them than using our fingertips to scroll through Pinterest galleries, mind-deadening Facebook feeds, and shitty video games (all the while gifting our privacy and life details to third party data brokers and, really, in this age of WikiLeaks and infinite data persistence, anyone else online who wants them).
     So, case in point. This guy sits down next to me the other day, healthy looking jogger-Dad type, smiley. Seemingly good disposition. White earbuds in. Instantly, upon sitting, he whips out his glowy portal and starts racing through imagery. Not pausing once. Just swiping through his family photos, kids’ photos, cars, motorbikes, Hallmark animal card greetings, landscapes, images of inspirational quotes, 1-2 seconds of random video clips. Zooming in and out of shit super-fast. Rapidfire unthinking supercaffeinated whizzing through so much visual data.    (Read More . . .)

[posted by: C Way at 10:03 PM]

[file under: non-fiction & essays ||| SLAGS]
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Kalief Browder (poem) – C.Way

January 24th, 2017

 
 
 

KALIEF BROWDER



Unscrew bolts anchoring A/C to wall
           
          I stand behind
          Watching you work
          Words rise up & crowd my throat
	        like a clump of blind baby piglets 
	        smelling the teat
          All swallowed back down


Work air conditioner, deliver it
    to bed of pillows prepared on floor

          1,000 days

          I picture you in your box
                    unfed, filthy, dreaming not of bread
                      but of end-pieces of bread
          your hand through the slot, waving your completed worksheet
                    asking for someone to grade it
                    "Miss! I got work for you!"

Squat down, peer through new hole made
    Noonday sunlight slides in
    Watch a green bottle fly
          swoop in, swirl, leave

          Summer nights with the heat vents baking
                    your 12 x 7 oven
                   Kevin next door with the disintegrating laugh
                              slamming his forehead into the wall

          Thirty times told: No trial, Soon, Soon
          Half of your mother's words over the phone
                    blotted out by sobs 
          And your hand still holding the slot, 
                    waving, waving, always waving 

Stick arm out, checking clearance
    Feeling drips from A/C above

          Over and over, you work on bedsheet nooses
                    using your teeth to make strips
          getting a little better each time
                    And when they cut you down they beat you
                              because a hang-up means more paperwork
          And when they don't cut you down
                    they say "Jump, Go ahead and jump" 


Gather yellow braided sheet cord
     from cache in the closet

          You're out
          but no 3.5 GPA or donated MacBook Air or Haldol
          can stop you from waking
                    at 4 AM, sweating through your clothes 
          punching holes in your wall
          trashing your TV because it's watching you

                    Because your hand never got out
                              of that slot 
                    Waving, waving, always waving

Take sheet-cord, start to gauge length

          Biking home from school last summer
          Beats in your ear, crisp loving night
          Sweet hour when the black wave 
                    was ebbed
          When the white swarm 
                    was quiet
                    a hive of cold bees 
	
Wind it, tie cinch and pull, blood starts to swell cheeks

          Kalief
          I am hungry, hungry, always hungry
          I don't know what to do with this hunger
          But talk to you
          And say that it is not justice I starve after
          My guts burn for us all 
          To stop choosing everything 
          Over love

          I am behind you
          The words become unstuck

          I am so proud of you 
                    for not shaking the slimed, charred, cold hand
          And for sharing what happened
          You did not get to learn what you should have 
          But I have learned 
                    integrity and courage from you 
          You fought 
          You fought
          You are good


Crabwalk to wall and opening
    vault, launch feet first
    get stuck, scrape back, shimmy through

          drop

    hear gasp like it's someone else

           Other sounds now

  Plane way overhead rumbling through sky

Sneaker heels whacking brick

Rosa's pink-dyed poodle
          barking at nothing in hallway

That new kid
    Playing video games next door
    Throwing controller against the wall again, again
    Screaming


                                          Chris Way, Nov 2016
[posted by: C Way at 11:03 AM]

[file under: Writing]
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