For Pledges

The promises we make ourselves which we know we can't keep. The flimsy pledges we vow to abide by but only until faced with the overwhelming criss-crossing of circumstance. So my behavior may seem a little odd sometimes - it is because I go through phases and I burn through pledges. When I listen to this song I have to laugh at how much I say and how little I flesh out.

If I explain this pledge
then they're other things that need explaining too
For pledges - superficial
draw parallels you wish you never drew

I can't get into it, really. But believe me, it is not as sexy as I am making it out to be.

I Would Work If I Could

I would work if I could
Just too low to do anything good

Let me lay this down for you all. WORK is not what most consider to be work - i.e. the daily grind, the rat race, 9-5, etc... Work here is my life's work, what you hear and what you see. Work like Warhol through Lou Reed and John Cale.

Man I was down when I wrote this. I was also highly influenced by some Queens of the Stone Age bouncy rock song, believe it or not. But at first this was a banjo song and it mutated into this sort of quasi Beatles pop number. Anyway, I really could not do any work for a while around this time. As loved ones would be quick to point out, my "a while" is all in my head. So the perception of lack of work may not be consistent with the actual output - but I always live in my perceptions.

Listen for the fragile toy-like piano part for some joy.

(NOTE: my web host has said they'll be down all weekend, so the songs may be unavailable for a bit - please be patient with them. From their bulk email it sounds like it will really be worth it....not really.)

Inventory (CD 2005)

After the success of In the Analog Woods, the label and I decided to make a full go of the next CD. Still a limited edition, but larger - 1000. I hesitate to get into this too much because the lack of support for this record was painful and especially since this was, up to that point, my proudest musical moment. So let's just leave it at, some shit did not get done and as a result, too few people heard this CD - a shame.

But this disc is really special for me. This was the first time I recorded with a full band since 1998. And this crew, for the most part, is still with me today. David Curry on viola, Djim Reynolds on Guitar, Gregg Porter on drums and Casey Dienel on Piano. Casey was just a studio player, but the rest came out to shows and did their thing.

I hear growth here. Focus of intent and intentional writing. Djim recorded it and got such unique sounds. Most of the vocals were recorded in a rarely used wood sauna. There is a lot of wood on these tapes. And animals - deer emerged and receded while we rehearsed as did the turkeys. It feels like this record took two years in the making but I think it was due to some false starts and some learning and some rethinking. There are places we get to here that we will pass on subsequent records and we smile as we accelerate past.

Torn Green Velvet Eyes - BONUS TRACK

This is a cover of a Magnetic Fields song I did for a tribute compilation published by Slight Record, which is an imprint of the webzine Slightly Confusing to a Stranger. Due to some legal complications this was never released as a CD, only as free downloads. I don't think these are available anywhere anymore, which is too bad. Of note here is the fake mellotron plug-in which creates a warbley, seasick drone. I think Djim mixed this with me, but I can't be sure.

Funny thing about covers, I never recall how to play other peoples songs so it takes a ton of effort to record a cover. I decided I am lucky to remember how to play my own songs. So don't try yelling out for this one at my next show (April 7th at the Red Door in Portsmouth, NH) is all I am saying.

As it Turns Out - BONUS TRACK

How do you explain fear?

There is a fair amount of dread that I view some of my songs with. This is something I never knew until embarking on this blog project. To me this is so definite, so specific. Maybe to the listener that comes through all wrapped up in tin and rust. But maybe this is just for me. In general, I don't know why I write songs, it is a compulsion. But when I listen to this one I know just why I wrote it and it is still raw. I came up with this phrase once to describe what I do for some press papers: ABSTRACT PRECISION. As it turns out, it may only be precise to my brain.

Production notes:
Another stellar slide guitar performance from Jim. Recorded at the Estate by Jim during the never-ending Inventory sessions or before them, who knows. This was put out on one of the magnificent Ball of Wax compilations, what great things those are. Buy some.

So Far Away - BONUS TRACK

Carole King wrote this one and I tried my best. Jim and I recorded it and he played slide guitar on too. I must have a high opinion of myself to even attempt one of her songs. You be the judge of the result in the comments please. Myself, I like this weird version, my apologies to Ms. King of course.

This was part of a limited edition compilation for the label I used to be on (before they went under).

Gradually I am working my way up to starting to post songs from my 2005 CD, Inventory. Why am I stalling? No clue. This better be worth the wait Roff.

The Best is Yet to Come - BONUS TRACK

From concept to completion, I've got to know
How the west was won and why the east let go.

Before the record Inventory was released, I had this hot idea to do a little radio "teaser". The first two tracks were right off of the record and then there was this song. This was recorded live on WMBR's classic local music show, The Pipeline in 2002 (engineered by the one and only Ramsey Tantawi). This was a super-group of some sort. A rare combo in its entirety. Jim Reynolds on banjo, David Michael Curry on viola, Gregg Porter on drums, and TW Walsh on piano and bass. This lineup was always one of my favorites because these are such intuitive musicians who can do anything at the suggestion. They really care about the songs and serve them well and that is a rare thing. This is the definitive version of this rambling number. There are bouts of atonality that are just perfect to me - everyone finding their way and it is all good.

Give it (why?) back to me
What a mild discovery
call it what it is, it is ornamental

Also of note, is that I think this is the first public performance under the moniker, Brian Michael Roff and the Deer. And for what it is worth, the radio teaser idea kind of fell flat on its face.

Often I Am Thought to Be Full of Beans - BONUS TRACK

Here we have a W/# bonus "cut". From around 2003? I will admit I love the building repetition of this song. In fact, throughout my music, I have had a love for repetition and layering new sounds with each repeat. It seems that when I do that, the lyrics tend to be more skewed and less overtly personal, but still some truth sneaks by:

You might think, what a miserable fuck
and you would be right, just as right as a Captain
is alone at sea, spies land from the galley
gets held in an alley
your suspicions were right

OK...so the part about being a lonely captain coming to shore and being "held" in an alley is totally not true. I am sure this happens regularly in the port towns and cities of this state, but not to me.

As for the cursing, I don't do that too often, but I do it when it is appropriate. I mean I am no Liz Phair, but I occasionally sing the foul. Sometimes it is the only thing to get the point across.

Make It a Dime

A song of doubt and lack of confidence. Every time I would move, this would happen:

Two, four, six, ten
it's Brian's back again

The pain in this is so true. Originally titled "Worst Things First" but I thought better of using such a turn of phrase for the title, lest I appear to proud of my cleverness.

When you don't know what you're doing
Things seem much worse
The only way to do it
Is to put worst things first

(Coming up next, some stray tracks and the lead in to the 2005 landmark (for the band and I), Inventory, a "radio and friends of BMR only release" called Pre-Inventory...oh my I am clever.)

In and Of Itself

Not a fan of this phrase. I will say nothing, stare blankly, pick my teeth or just walk away - rather than say it.

In and of itself, means: NO MEANING

What I do like is how just writing this song turned this into a pet peeve. It was not a big deal before, but after writing it...well I had to stick my poetic guns. So big joke is that "In and Of Itself" the song means no meaning. There are specks of truth in here though, which are to small in size but too large in consequence to go into.

Can I help you Brian Michael?
I reply, as if insightful, "In and of itself!"

Rocks and Minerals

This is kind of confusing. In a couple of days I will post the song "Make it a Dime". The chorus of this song was taken from one of the original choruses of that song. The weird thing (to me), is that this chorus was actually only one of the choruses being sung during the original chorus of that song...I mean there were two being sung at once. Oh wait, it get's weirder. Turns out there is actually no chorus at all on the "Make it a Dime" that wound up on this record!

I found this one lying covered in static and hiss on a tape full of mostly throw away song sketches that I recorded on a little Realistic hand-held tape recorder. I recorded that sketch before the war in Iraq started, so the line referring to the military was proven particularly prescient by the time I got around to recording it for real. Sometimes there is gold on those type of tapes. Sometimes there is just an embarrassing plastic bottle of glitter.

This song wound up being a band and crowd favorite. Crowds (I use the term very loosely - as there are rarely true "crowds" at my shows) respond to the end:

Shrug your shoulders, you're inside
Shrug your shoulders, it's applied
Oh! The balance there has been
Old embarrassments begin
Feeling like rock and minerals

The New Me

When I was 17 my friends all started getting cars. This one kid, John, got a vintage VW Beetle. At that age, it is all about pushing limits and trying to find out where your boundaries are. It is an awkward way to live. And at this time you can also set a lifelong course. Will I be the type who seeks out truth and information, even if it does not bring joy? So one night, I pushed the limits on that VW Beetle, riding on the rails while John drove around in circles, in the parking lot of a closed McDonald's. John shifted gears, my hand slipped and off I tumbled. My head could have been under that narrow tire - but I just ended up with a torn up right arm.

Want something that instantly forgives,
Not a mark on my arm, a fading scar...

Blissful ignorance ceased at that moment.

Emergency

I wrote this during a time when I was listening to a lot of Phil Ochs. I'd never written a song with a sing-a-long chorus before and that was the idea for this one. A protest song like "I Ain't Marching Anymore" has so much power to rally. I may have said it before but I will say it again, I am no activist folkie. What came out here turns out to be nothing like what inspired me, but isn't that better? So the emergency is, as expected, inside me. The rest is another tale of sour characters and places, mostly invented and revolving around the fictitious Camp Benjamin Franklin. Where we cursed Thomas Edison for his light bulbs that chase away the animals and worse yet reminds us where we are.

Initially the lyric was something where I took far too much poetic license:

Edison, invents light. Thomas E. wasn't right

Yikes! I am glad I did not keep that line. But really, when I first wrote this the lyrics to the verses were less important than the "emergency" chorus. But as it was reworked for this release the verses got less frivolous, and the whole feel gets a little more cryptic.

Now I'm not counting your fortune, but I saw your money clip through your pants.
Those rooks were taking Liberty out for a dance - and swing she did.

Admittedly, by the time this song was recorded, I was under the influence of M. Ward, which is clearly evident to my ears.

The Neverending Cause of Everything

I want to make an honest sound
I want the sound to be the truth
I want the truth a sudden sense
Like nothing sensible before it

This is kind of like my anthem. This wraps me up in a fit bag. Not sure if I always achieve this but it is always in my head - make it honest and true. I think the truth when expressed right can hit and hurt. But when you fall over, there is realization.

The gift of an accordion from Tim was obviously a big influence on this recording - if he had only gifted me lessons.....

In the Analog Woods (2004 CD-EP)

I lived in the analog woods. Well actually, among the analog trees. The original name of this was "In the Analog Trees", but then I found some references that made me believe that tape traders and jam bands already took possession of that term (although now it is strangely absent from Google). Anyway, I wound up liking the name I chose better. The idea of this EP was to dust off some old tracks I had written but never recorded a good version of (if at all). I was longing for the days of the Tascam 4-track aesthetic, loose and more restrictive and a grittier sound than I was getting using digital recording. So I got to work, in the analog woods, in a minor studio in the attic of an 18th century ice house turned gardeners cottage I had the honor of living in.

There were also some rules I came up with. Conceptual art had been a pursuit of mine since I first heard about it at art school and specifically using a system to create art by faithfully adhering to rules, regardless of outcome. Now my rules were pretty loose for this project but I still felt obliged to abide by them.

Rule 1: Use only 4 tracks
Rule 2: Use only acoustic instruments
Rule 3: Use any combination of banjo, acoustic guitar, accordion, and voice

For better or worse, that was how it went. I also had goals. I did not want to self release this one. I saw this label Keep Recordings (now defunct...I don't think I had anything to do with that) that was doing great limited edition discs with excellent packaging. We chatted, we agreed to the release in an edition of 100. And what do you know, it sold out! What an exciting time for BMR.

The Sweet Science - BONUS TRACK

Don't let this song fool you, I don't know anything about boxing, AKA "The Sweet Science". But this song was the kernel that led to naming a record "A Sweet Science". Perhaps it was an understanding that the concept of me singing about boxing was absurd, I mean COMPLETELY unbelievable, that led me to leave this one off the record. There is some pretty funny stuff going on here and it has only ever been heard by friends and family.

By the way, greetings to all elbow.ws referrals, a pleasure to have you poking around.

Please let me know your enjoying this pursuit and leave me some notes. As the songs get more recent, I am finding it harder to get to the bottom of them. That is weird to me.

Thistle Occupation Blues

Wrapping up the album we have a song that was originally titled "This Old Occupation Blues". I thought it sounded sexier with "thistle" to further abstract name. The song is pretty abstract too. Just a collection of snippets and a drawers full of lost bits. There was triumph in the completion of this record and it is felt in the way it closes. Eventually layers are added to make thickness. A haze of sound. Tim went all out smashing the cymbals. I wanted a marching band, a crazed trumpeter and a man on stilts - they never showed up. What we wound up with was a fine replacement.

The sky is bare
The birds won't scare
The blankest stare

(blog note: up next we have a heretofore unheard bonus song. It is the song about my thin knowledge of boxing, called "The Sweet Science". Then we get to the EP, In the Analog Woods.)

Magazine Memories

I took a taste of it, now there is nothing left
I took a taste, should have been called my theft

Loosely, just loosely about the death of Jeff Buckley. More tightly about indecision and regretful choices. I loved the idea of a group of friends at the movies shouting out at the screen. Not to be rude but just to express what cannot be expressed any other way. There is a youthful shine to that image. Somehow it makes me thing of being eighteen and leaving the theater with my friends after watching Val Kilmer play Jim Morrison. It was raining, we were eighteen, we ran around the parking lot like madmen.

Testing

Resting on a neighbors lawn, these lessons just go on and on...

One of the reviews for A Sweet Science basically told be to lighten up. You know, throw some humor in here and there. In my imagined response to that review, I wrote to the author, "This is real & life is not funny." What I took from that review was that sometimes people don't want to listen to the truth, sometimes it can be painful. And in the end, who cares.

At first, this song was a country waltz. But when it came time to record, the presence of David Curry and his viola suggested doing it spare. To me it made for a more powerful read in the end. I do believe we recorded it live. It is stark and I am glad for it.

I Thought the Swans Were Fake

(First, a welcome to Said the Gramophone readers. There is lots of music in the archive, so please stay a while.)

On my way to and from work, I used to walk through the Boston Public Gardens. There was plenty of inspiration to be had there. At dusk you could see the rats scurry down the walk in front of you like filthy shadows. In the morning there would be Asian men doing tai chi in the new sun and homeless men stashing their blankets in the trees. Of course, come Spring, there were the swan boats. There were real swans too and from far away they looked like they were molded out of plastic.

This feels like a love song to me and it might be the closest thing I have to one. It is certainly one of kind tolerance for imperfect me:

I am my father's son, I like a beer when I'm thirsty
You put up with the worst me

Sonically this song is somewhat inspired by the Velvet Underground - but man is it slow. The vocals are right in your ear and they let you in on something. The bleating sax lines were breathed by Michael K. He did about 30 minutes of improv and Tim recorded it. A month later we cut it down and rearranged it to fit into the parts you hear. He did not know it, but he played just the right thing. This is one of my favorite bits on the record.

A Trackless Trolley

Phrase coinage has always been an interest of mine. The first time I heard the term trackless trolley I needed it. In the Boston area, a few towns still run trackless trolleys. They run on the road with an extended arm connecting to the electric lines above. They make sparking sounds, and make the streets feel like old time Boston. I never heard of these units being referred to as trackless trolleys until I started commuting to Boston every day for work.

And that is where we pick up this story. On the subway - the T. Each day was unique but exactly identical. In the AM it smelled of shampoo, fresh toothpaste and urban muck. In the evening, the fragrance was less separate and more of a homogenization of every riders travels.

These streets always look the same
Watch the puddles drain

Production note: Tim did an amazing job on the recording and of banging those drums wildly during the instrumental break. Also David Curry astounded me with his churning viola solo.

p.s. On the topic of coined phrases. A Trackless trolley is not in usage anywhere but in my mind. However, I must confess that now and then I use this term, as if it is in popular usage. In fact, I used it at work recently in conversation with my boss. It just slipped out and for a moment I did not know if I made up that usage or if it was a known term. My boss did not seem visibly confused. I can only hope from the context, he got the meaning and will be inserting it into his own lexicon of euphemisms.

Under My Belt

...but what I have, is something I can't grasp.

A dreary lament which fumbles into thanks-giving. I get caught up sometimes. I guess we all do; but I get caught up in the negative (in case you haven't noticed) and this is me remembering that it is not what you don't have but what you've got that gets you through the day. The twist here is that I know I've got something but I have no handle on what it truly is or what it means. But it does not mean I am not thankful.

Automatic Action

This is the worst vacation ever...

I mistakingly called Beach Street Blues the oldest song on this album. I just now remembered that Automatic Action is. I dug this one up, out of an old sketch book from college. Must have been in 1997, when I was living in a small second floor apartment in a sleepy tourist town. In the Winter I could see the ocean from the front window, I loved that. I think there is a lot of that town in this song. Things went sour for me up in that apartment and there is veiled truth in here. There is also years worth of personal observations: a good friend riding the bus to San Diego, drunk college associates, getting my long hair cut short, closing my eyes to suffer through another migraine. But in the end is the realization that just because you live in a tourist town it does not mean you are a tourist.

Beach Street Blues

Back on Beach Street, this is too real. No more man, the Beach Street Blues

This is a tough one. I had just heard that a childhood friend of mine, one who lived three streets away from where I grew up, crashed his motorcycle into a tree and died. Trying to come to terms with his death sprouted this song. What is the difference? Sixty or ten times six. Another way to say the same thing: dead is dead.

As time went on I separated that event from the song. Not too hard to do, the street name is wrong, the facts are so abstract, no names are mentioned. So now, it is actually painful to re-associate the two. How I wish I didn't.

Production notes: TW plays keyboards on this. We had a blast getting sounds right for his parts. I programmed Dr. Rhythm for the "drums" on the full track, which was the first and last time I would do that. Also of note is that this is the oldest song on the record. The basics were recorded at the same time that This Thick World was done, in the ever fruitful attic apartment.

Do Not Own It

There are things in the world that you should not own. Then there are things you wish you did not. This type of owning was something I never had a concept of until working a real job. One day, I heard someone say they owned an issue. I liked that - it sounded strong. That declaration held power. This is useful to me outside of work. I started thinking maybe you want to own, but you can't. Yes, there are the material objects that might be financially unattainable, but what about the more abstract things that will remain out of reach. In many ways we are born into what we become, for better or worse. So there are feelings you rent - you try them out. There are situations you never own, so you never turn down that street. I called them out into the daylight to make it feel small. I yelled out their name to let them know I was on to them. It did not make me feel any better.

I do not own this ball of wire, I just held it for a while

TW played "piano" on this and I also recall sitting on a guest bed trying to figure out a bass part for this. It was a little brainstorming session that yielded a really special bass line. Moments like that make "A Sweet Science" unique in my memory.

A Sweet Science (2003 CD)

In many ways this is where it all began again. Prior to this record, I had little idea of what the intent of my music was. I started to think about recordings differently with this one and wanted to make a complete work. The songs as they were recorded were just a part of the life of the song. So with that, I was free to put songs down in whatever way felt right at the time and there was no longer the concept of the "definitive" version. That all seems so arty and pretentious, doesn't it?

Much of the recording was done with Tim at The Seventh Bend, our friend Jason's garage studio. Tim got great sounds on this. At some point in the process, he started a partnership with Darron Burke and they co-ran Makeshift Studio for a while in Jamaica Plain. So some work was done there too, I think just mastering and maybe some minor tracking. I just remember the record taking a really long time to finish - way too long. it was all my fault I am sure.

This record marks the BMR debut of viola player David Michael Curry. Then a dark stranger and now a great friend. Also on this disc is the off-kilter sax moaning of the a long time friend, the imitable Michael K.

For the cover art, I called on my friends at Montserrat College of Art to help me out with their letter press. We did an edition of 100 of the piece you see below. This was a blowout print session with good friends, much fun.

Since the first edition ran out rather quick, I put together a second edition which was unlimited. Well, it was limited to the amount of sticker stock in the world.


So it is, A Sweet Science. I think on it fondly and alarmingly. Please chime in with your thoughts, I know you are out there.

Blue Math

Blue math is hazy reasoning, cloudy logic, skewed judgment, and impossible results. You know you can get through the ill of concept, I mean, you do it all the time. Most of us live blue math by default. This world breeds it and let's us take the lead in parsing and decoding it. So you try to work around the math, work with it and for it. Math seems nice sometimes. (You got the answer you expected!) It can be social - you CAN take math out to a party and not be embarrassed. At any second though, it can turn BLUE.

So, this can be your theme also:

Some holes in the system, let worms peek through - true.

Attic Apartment Fever

Now the situation gets more severe. There are warbling insects - rods even, flying about. We are under a reinforced glass skylight, in the attic of an antique colonial and the trees are above. Summertime in an attic apartment is really special. Stifling inhuman heat. The air here is thick and smells like old wood and horse hair insulation. You can try to stay away from things that want inside your head, but when you have the fever, you've got to be strong to succeed.

And a bird flew so high, it became a plane

Tune That Computer

The cut out bin is where over the years I have bought many excellent gems. One time when I was a kid I dug through the cut out cassette bin at a music store on the Jersey Shore and picked up this tape. I did not know who Robyn Hitchcock was and I really did not like what I heard but I kept listening. I was only 15 and I believed in the cut out bin.

Forward to another odd find from a cut out bin: Taking Tiger Mountain (by strategy). By this time, I was in college but still scouring the depths of those bins. This time I was working at a record store, so the search was long and lazy but no less fruitful for its lack of urgency. There is a song on here called, Third Uncle, a hyper tongue twister of a song. It is relentless. I wanted some of that for Tune That Computer.

I also really liked that visual - tuning a computer like you would a guitar. Blowing in a pitch pipe to figure out where the problem on your tower lays. Twisting some hardware until the screen stops flickering.

These lyrics are meant to baffle and you don't have to listen too closely to hear them twist my tongue. 6 years later they still baffle me.

Yes, I Was Nervous Then

A song about nerves. How to calm them and how to realize they are on edge. There is truth on the line:

Suddenly I remember why I'm worried, isn't that the worst thing in the world?

I hate that feeling. As someone who spends much of their time worrying about possible resolutions to potential concerns, I know this state. I can thank my brain for always looking for the surprise.

Musically, I was going for a Dr. Dre piano part. In reality it sounds way too ill (ill as in unwell, not as in phat) to ever make the cut anywhere near a Dre track.