November 5: It’s a chilly night in Toronto, but warm underground where I shuttle between city coordinates running errands, thinking about irony and trust and commitment. The service underground is devilishly sporadic, so I’ve closed the live stream window for 102.7 fm on my phone, where the Peak Performance Project Top 5 are soon to be announced. My partner is insisting we go above ground to stay tuned as the announcements unfold, but sometimes I don’t have the courage to earnestly admit to my uncertain and fragile hopes. And so I resist, and we make our transit transfers underground. // Above ground: we are sitting on a park bench now. I’ve opened two bottles of warm beer with a sick tube of mascara I found with shaking hands at the bottom of my satchel. Cayne has his phone to his ear and wears a nervous grin: three of five artists have been announced. They’re about to announce the fourth, and the live stream cuts out – classic. Seconds later I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket. All I can utter is a whispered “what the fuck?” as a cold-hot electric current pulses through my ribcage and sends a numbing jolt to my heart, which beats fast and slow. // It is a bizarre feeling. Blinding gratitude on a sick park bench in the cold of an unfamiliar city. I can’t see through the blur so well now. I feel a hollowing-out as I brim over. How is it that I feel empty. // A day later: I recently started reading a book by Jedediah Purdy that addresses the culture of irony that has become so definitive of our generation. He writes that “irony is powered by a suspicion that everything is derivative. It generates a way of passing judgement on what kinds of hopes the world will support.” Every single person I have taken the time to get to know harbours their own secluded bay of insecurity, staggering self-awareness and an almost paralyzing capacity for self criticism. To take ownership of our convictions, to be unabashed in our beliefs, can seem embarrassingly naive, and so we cling to our nonbelief with a vague but stubborn pride, which ultimately seems to become our own undoing. // November 8: I don’t know if it is possible to hold self-awareness and unguardedness simultaneously within ourselves, but I am trying earnestly to find a balance. We are all vessels bearing singular-universal dynamic systems of entropy, where the measures of our own internal disorder or progression towards equilibrium are vast, if not infinite. There is value in declaring the hopes that we carry and which we know to be fragile. Maybe it is our capacity for uncertainty that makes us human, but it is the tireless task of seeking hope, conviction and belief in something – in struggling to make reality intelligible – that renders this life meaningful.
Andy Shauf is hands down one of my favorite musicians. His last album inspired me to not settle with my own music. To put emotion into what I write. The Bearer of Bad News makes you feel like death. But it makes you feel. I want to do that. For so long my writings stayed on the surface but I so badly want to drown in my words.
On October 23rd 2012, we released Small Reveal. Over the past year, the 5 of us have had the chance to share music with our friends all across North America and Europe. We have seen many highs and lows, and experienced some success mixed in with some hard lessons along the way. Wouldn’t want it any other way.
To celebrate, we are asking for you (the listener, the reader of this, whatever title you’d like, Lil Pete? Sweet Pete?) to create something for us. A lyric video for the song Margaret Downe. It can be handmade, it can be computer generated, it can include a narrative, it can be still, it can be funny, it can be whatever the song means to you. To enter, you just upload your video and link us at email@example.com or tag us @aidanknight (here are the lyrics/audio to the song)
In exchange, we will choose one video to share with everyone online. An unofficial official lyric video. That sounds about right. If we choose your video, we’d like to give you something that really means something: A collection of rare music from us. Some of it will be signed, and some of it will be one of only a handful in existence. Share this and tag your friends & family, I can’t wait to see the results.
im getting rly anxious can tokyo police club fucking release their goddamn mother fucking album alfuckingready god fuck