YouTube truly hates small, independent artists, so it’s a small act of rebellion to like and subscribe to relatively unknown creators.
And to show appreciation for jazz in 2026 is outright madness. So, go on, like it and subscribe.
Make them have to come haul you away in a straight jacket. It’ll be funny. The hospital is pretty nice. The walls are soft, they give you cookies and juice, and the meds make you feel great.
Original Lyrics
Somewhere there’s music, How faint the tune Somewhere there’s heaven, How high the moon
There is no moon above When love is far away too, ‘Till it comes true That you love me as I love you
Somewhere there’s music,⠀ It’s where you are Somewhere there’s heaven,⠀ How near, how far⠀
The darkest night would shine⠀ If you would come to me soon Until you will, how still my heart, How high the moon
I’ve shared this gargantuan anthem before, but not since 2021. This music was born of deep sadness but eventually became a source of joy.
I was grieving my beloved pit bull, Stacie. She was my baby girl for 16 years. I had to have the vet put her to sleep and I was with her as she passed.
To heal, I needed to make loud, angry metal guitar music. I felt pulled to something riff-based and modal, so I wouldn’t have to think about it very much. This piece has no vocals for the same reason.
I would be remiss not to mention my two main influences on this Trifecta of Doom, the bands Megadeth and Tool.
The final product was three movements, each one about twelve minutes in length. I find Part 1 to be the strongest, overall, but there are elements of the other two that others might like more.
The title is a reference to the intricate and finite spiritual sand art of the Tibetan Buddhist monks and Native Americans.
Tibetan monks working on sand mandala
In this world, nothing lasts forever, but the only way we can be truly alive is to put 100% effort into the things we do. To half-ass things is to be dead before you die.
Navajo sand painting
During that intense period of grief, working on this project was the only thing that brought me any kind of satisfaction at all.
Mandala of Sand – Pt. 1 is the final track on my third album, Area 25, available on all major music streaming platforms.
This is the first recorded version of the instrumental Trent Boswell piece called “Scorpio.”
It was done with an acoustic guitar, no mic, straight into a cheap, handheld tape deck. It was the kind nobody owns anymore, but was in classrooms, lawyers offices, and company boardroom meetings. Super high-tech stuff, lemme tell ya.
Don’t forget to do all the things:
Like 👍
Subscribe ☑️
Ring the stupid bell 🔔 and select “All”
Comment on the YouTube page 💨
Share the link on your socials ♻️
The fancier, official recording is on the album Area 25 by Trent Boswell, and it features bass, drums, and electric lead guitar.
album artwork by Dorian Strange
If you’re like me, you are not nearly cool enough to use Spotify (the link above). Uncool, Gen X guys like me use services like Apple Music.
Late last year, I moved to Portland, Oregon. It’s a wonderfully weird place. The locals actually say, “Keep Portland weird.” There’s a large mural of that saying, somewhere in the city. Everything about this place is quirky, eccentric, and hence, I should fit in here, just fine.
I also started a new job. I’m working in the mental health field. No, I’m not a doctor, therapist, and definitely not a psychiatrist. I just work for a company that trains us to assist people who have one or more mental health diagnoses, addiction problems, or who have lived on the streets, but are now in reliable housing, provided by the state. It’s a good gig. I get paid well, to help the people who really need help the most.
On Friday night, it started snowing, the temperatures were bottoming out as low as 18°F. That’s well below freezing, and it doesn’t even account for the windchill factor.
The other, less positive side of Portland, is that the homelessness crisis here is really bad. It’s almost impossible to go anywhere without seeing at least one car, RV, tent, or lean-to type shelter that someone is using to live in.
I first discovered this song from the band Junip. When I realized that it’s a cover of Bruce Springsteen, I found the original, and loved it, too.
This morning, it’s so cold outside, that neither my dog nor myself want to go outside any longer than is absolutely necessary. But, there are people out there, living in tents and sleeping bags.
I woke up to this song playing, I had left my phone on shuffle all night to help me sleep. I listened to it, looked at the weather, then became obsessed.
I’d never played this song before, but I learned it, then I recorded all the guitar and bass parts, and sang the vocal, and recorded it, and mixed it. Basically my whole Sunday went into this.
I plan to make a video for it, but I wanted to get this out, because I worked on it nonstop all day.
The Ghost of Tom Joad
Men walkin’ ‘long the railroad tracks Goin’ someplace there’s no goin’ back Highway patrol choppers Comin’ up over the ridge Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretchin’ ’round the corner Welcome to the new world order Families sleepin’ in their cars in the Southwest, No home no job no peace no rest
The highway is alive tonight But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody About where it goes I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light Searchin’ for the ghost of Tom Joad
He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag Waitin’ for when the last shall be first, and The first shall be last In a cardboard box ‘neath the underpass
Got a oneway ticket to the promised land You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock Bathin’ in the city aqueduct
The highway is alive tonight Where it’s headed everybody knows I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light Waitin’ on the ghost of Tom Joad
Now Tom said, “Mom, wherever there’s a cop beatin’ a guy “The Ghost Of Tom Joad” lyrics Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries Where there’s a fight ‘gainst the blood and Hatred in the air Look for me Mom I’ll be there
“Wherever there’s somebody fightin’ For a place to stand Or decent job or a helpin’ hand Wherever somebody’s strugglin’ to be free Look in their eyes Mom you’ll see me.”
Well the highway is alive tonight But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody About where it goes I’m sittin’ down here in the campfire light With the ghost of old Tom Joad
