Here is my cover of The Velvet Underground’s excellent song, Sweet Jane.
The images in the video are “famous Janes”, with the exception of course of the two photos of the old Stutz brand motorcar, which is referenced in the lyrics.
All bass, guitar and vocals are me.
The drums are by Stinky the Robot… because that’s a good name for the drummer who lives inside my computer. He plays only what I program him to play, he’s drunk only half as often as a human drummer and he smells better.
The .mp3 song file is available for patrons, over at:
His original recording has the slick, studio mixing of the vocals and the instruments. The original gives all of the cool, background sound effects that give the impression of space travel. Bowie’s “Space Oddity“ is arguably a masterpiece.
Any attempt to re-create that would be an exercise in vanity, and one which is bound to end in failure and disappointment.
If it did somehow succeed, it would still be nothing more than a staid rehash of something that was already done and done incredibly well. So, I went the opposite way with this.
I think it’s safe to say that astronauts don’t get to take their guitars (if they have them) on space flights. But if they did… that’s what I wanted this to sound like.
I wanted to give the auditory impression of a lonely space traveler, Sitting inside a little capsule, out there, in the unknown. Therefore, The audio is nothing more than a guitar and vocal track.
It’s mixed in such a way as to sound small, like it’s being played from inside the rocket. It’s supposed to sound like it’s being transmitted on a frequency that the space traveler isn’t the least bit certain will ever be heard.
Much like the plaque that American astronauts placed on the Moon, all those years ago, it’s a statement to some thing, anything, that may be out there. It’s an isolated signal, announcing “I am here”, even if no one else ever knows that I was here. It’s the tree falling in the woods, with no one around to hear it.
The video attempts to capture what I can only imagine are the two predominant emotions astronauts must feel. One is the giddy, childlike exhilaration of exploring uncharted territory… “We’re going into space! We’re going to the Moon!”
The other is the dread, mortal fear of something going horribly, horribly wrong. When things go wrong in space, it’s no small matter. Errors in space often result in immediate, violent death.
Perhaps even worse, is the possibility of becoming stranded. It’s the fear of being all alone, with no possibility of rescue. It’s the real and present danger of being doomed to endless wandering, sitting and waiting to run out of oxygen, to run out of food and water… waiting to run out of hope.
My grateful thanks go to the following people, for providing the images that I used to (hopefully) convey these ideas. The musical performance will likely fall short of even the sparsest expectations. Yet, I believe that the visual imagery is more than enough to make it worth the four and a half minutes of your time. This is a credit which goes entirely to the photographers and videographers. The honor is all theirs.
If you like bands like Queens of the Stone Age, Jane’s Addiction, Jimi Hendrix or The Mars Volta, then you’ll probably dig this.
This is a brand new recording of the song that I wrote many years ago but never had a chance to record it until now. I’ve played it live with my band quite a few times but unfortunately, we never caught it on tape.
I’m playing the bass and guitar parts and singing. Everything that you hear on this track is me, except for the drums. That’s because I don’t have access to a live drummer right now. Besides, feeding and caring for a wild animal like that is expensive.
Here’s the full video on YouTube. Don’t forget to hit the thumbs up 👍 subscribe ✅ and the notifications bell 🔔
The song is called blind in the sun and the lyrics are below. Originally, it was a poem and I set it to music (hence the Roman numerals in the lyrics).
The .mp3 file is attached to my Patreon page, so you can go there, download it (for free) and play it whenever you want.
I forget sometimes that people don’t always follow my rather eccentric, artistic choices, so I will explain something about this track. I purposefully chose not to clean up the sloppier guitar licks on this track, because it’s the feel that I was going for… teetering on the edge of the abyss.
Going back and punching in smoother, cleaner guitar parts is easy enough. I just didn’t want ’em, not for this. I’ll mention two songs that inspired my playing on this. One is “God”, by Tori Amos. Her guitar player is way better than he sounds on that track. It’s dirty, gritty and foul, for a reason. The song is about existential angst and the loss of faith, so it’s gotta be grimy.
The other is “Come On (Let The Good Times Roll)” by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. On that song, he does what jazz musicians refer to as “going outside”, meaning that he lets his solos wander just a little bit out of time and out of key, on purpose. Of course, he brings it back in or it wouldn’t be interesting. I chose to step outside on this track but hopefully not too much.
Feel free to share the link to this page or the Patreon page, or the YouTube link on your social media, that’s the best form of advertising there is for underground artists. I thank you in advance. Enjoy!
Just click that big, unwieldy link, below, to listen to the track. Or go to the Patreon page. You can download the song from the Patreon page and have it for your very own. Just don’t forget to water it every few days and never feed it after midnight.
Blind in the Sun⠀ Can you cringe beneath The shadow of a fly? You’d better try Running ‘cross the sand Fire in the hearts of your band In the joy of being alive Stripped of delusion And so forwardly stride
Lost in the garden with canonized illusions There are the keepers Of the tower But I am not a member Of the dark December The light of the sun refracts In my eye
Everything is water Electric fluid matter In a paper cup Called Time
Somewhere in the North There are real vampires I know you go to visit From time to time To roll in the stench The decadence of Thirst for blood To dine with a pack Of wild gods
I have no intent Of adopting your bent; Partying down with the devil On your shoulder
I have no intent Of going where you went Beating on a skull In a hellish midnight circle
But who am I to say? That you are not ok? I will simply stay Behind