photo by: Emory Hall

How Trevor Hall Has Inspired Chapter 2 Of Artist Waves’ 2020

“Well tell me, tell me what you’re wandering now
Are you headed up north or down south?
The 15th consecutive week in my house. I’m not quite sure if I’m heading north or down south. Some days it’s the high, some the low… and some days, it’s both. So, I took the past two weeks to shut it down, and poured a bucket of water on the very dim creative light that I still had burning. If there’s a light, then there must have been some form of internal fire … sparking it all, or perhaps it was just ember, drifting off into an ether I couldn’t recognize. My point is, although I was spending a lot of time around a firepit, it wasn’t sparking the right vibes, I was conceding. So, instead of grabbing the flame between two fingers, I capped it, and then stomped on it while my heaviest boots uttered, “don’t come back”.
photo by: Brighton Galvan
“Back in the days of the old
A little bit of knowledge was told
About the sun about sky
About the winds and why they cry…
…there is a road far beyond

Far beyond the streets and the cars
Far beyond the clouds and the stars
Far beyond what you call God.” 

On April 29th, I had the pleasure of interviewing Trevor Hall during the first installment of our Instagram live interview series. It was a delightful conversation, where we praised the power of hunkered down creativity, the loudness of silence and the movement that is his army of “Villagers”. My process of preparing for an interview is to always to submerse myself in that artists’ catalog, as deeply as possible. Truly – vanish to a place where I carve my mind into the music, lyrics and its ripple effect. Then, after the session I move on and often listen to this given artist as I normally would.

But with Trevor Hall something different happened. His music became such a comfort to what was happening inside my house – both literally, and with my physical human existence. I’d turn to his artist page and hit play each morning upon pouring coffee. Some songs like “Sagitarius” just swam through my veins about how I’m still learning how to live in my fire. Or sometimes the calmness of bongos being struck in “Still Water” hit the right nerve and reminded me… that I needed to unpack some heavy experiences I’d just weathered. And then there was …. “House”.

On the surface, it’s a very attractive and relevant title that should find its way into many quarantine playlists on that fact alone. 

“Over the oceans and seas they were, they were searching for me
But I hid in the crest of a wave, protected by the Lion’s mane.”

Like many, I’ve dealt with various renditions of ugly challenges during this unprecedented time. I don’t say that looking for remorse as I always guide my mind’s eye like a telescope within my own house, and zoom in on each blessing for which I find new ways to be grateful for each day. Nonetheless, let’s just be honest – this is tough, man. But from the get-go in March, soldiering on felt like the only way to go – to keep slicing the machete, knocking down the weeds and tall grass to carve a path in the pitch black. But what’s left behind? You may keep walking, but some elements can seep in, because remember –  it’s dark out and those particles have a way of letting themselves in, setting up shop and getting comfortable.

So… I hit the end of the path. There was no forest through the trees. And that brings me back to my first point – I had nothin’. No desires or ideas or fears could give me fight and flight of enthusiasm – and ya know, I had no interest in trying to go find it.

Instead, the line I was paving led to a waterfall; an eruption of sorts where feelings of what was pushed aside slammed themselves in my face and took me out. I respected that tough, because the alternative could have been to stay hidden and fester for longer. 

photo by: Emory Hall
“Well my body said just turn and run
But then I felt the light of the sun
In the heart that I thought had just died
Started coming slowly alive.”

Slowly. That’s the key word in that entire lyric. There was no epiphany, no single conversation, no moment of seeing something on TV that made me snap out of it. It’s a process in a wild madness. 

“House” by Trevor Hall was most likely written about something not necessarily on point with how I’ve interrupted it. Hall’s layout seems like it captures a dream-laced house – that’s half haunted and half golden, still he sings with no trepidation. Even in it’s weary moments, there’s an eye of the tiger over the top. Regardless, the song was there for me. It grabbed me, shook me by the shoulders with anger and said, ” I understand”. 

“Sits upon a land where misery has lost its grip
And the rains they shower all our fear away.”

And slowly, you climb back up the waterfall, grab hands with the artform and keep walking together. I still have no idea how to properly deal with this confusing use of current time, but there’s gotta be a reason why “We’re all in this together” was immediately tattooed as the universal motto and furthermore, why it hasn’t faded in the fire. 

It starts in your own house. 

With that, the second chapter of 2020 Artist Waves will start this week. We’re continuing the live interviews on Instagram, some to also appear in article form, and we are excited about the power of the arts during these trying times. Stay safe, stay strong and be good to each other. We’ll awake in the mansion above and call it love. 

I heard of a house….

photo by: Brighton Galvan

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