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Bow and Arrow Days

by Feathered Mason

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ajshaw13
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ajshaw13 I love the raw and complete talent of Eric with a lil help from his incredibly talented best gal, Jennifer Nicely. This album grows on me with every rotation, much like the fields he actively cultivates. Keep 'em coming....no luxury sedan required, your talent is as raw and perfect as ever. Favorite track: Field Song.
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1.
Wayback 03:12
I've been searching for a quiet place in my mind a simple room without the quiet I get no dreamin' Loosin' meaning and nothing goin boom Swim with the shoal now Pisces rising Pray for a little jubilation We're out here just trying to find it We're out here just tryin' to find We're out here just tryin' to find it We'ra all here just tryin' to find Let me tell you what I'm hearing What I'm seeing What I'm feeling Let me tell you how I'm swimming it How I'm fearing it in this world There's a reason why we do this Why we do this in this world Find a way back Find a way back to our world We're all out here just trying to find it We're out here just trying to find We're all here just trying to find it Out here just trying to find A way back wayback A way back wayback
2.
So he launched off into the darkness We knew he'd be captured and bound by first light His spirit was of a phantom taunted His life was a mouse running from the bird of night He always said, " they'll never find me they never will they'll be lost in the freeze tangled in the winter kill." But his boots split open and let the water in That river was heavy he never felt warmth again So he said Goodbye to those bow and arrow days Never coming back I'm trapped three thousand ways When I get to the shelter belt where the angels play I'm gonna tell em' about those bow and arrow days A man could get lost in the starless Bible black night you know he feels shame probably cries alone out on that ocean he feels the depth an chill of his terrain He gives up and sings Hoist me high with the block and tackle Carry this frame away take away these shackles Hoist me hight with the block and tackle Carry this frame away take away these shackles Goodbye to those bow and arrow days Never coming back I'm trapped three thousand ways When I get to the shelter belt where the angels play I'm gonna tell em about those bow and arrow days
3.
I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were on the wing, And moth-like stars were flickering out, I dropped the berry in a stream And caught a little silver trout. When I had laid it on the floor I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
4.
Chubby he barks at me he says," What's with all these boxes? The neighbors are starting to worry bout all these corpses piled up around here. They're looking out the window, They're looking at you. Tell me boy, tell what's the truth?" I say, " I die each day and each day is a box they're all numbered and neat and ain't going back to lift up the lids. Cause I die a thousand times in this life each corpse dead a different way, each expression worst than the last." "And all these corpses and me, we're just song waiters. Waiting on the songs, not writing too much these days. We're waiting on the wind to blow one in and sing us back to life, sing us back to life again." Oh how I like to run Feet push the ground so fast how I put my head in that sand wait for all these things to pass But I feel the magnet pull me pull me out into the light Pull me back to my life where there's no place to hide Chubby still barks at me he says," What's with all your lies? The neighbors have given up on you reall ain't no surprise. I think it's all over for you now. But your tears. What gives boy? I've been trying to help you out barking this shit in your ears for years." So I leave those corpses back there just waiting on their songs I figure they must have more time than me Chubby and me we got to move along get out running again get our fetching again But I leave the boxes open in case the corpses want to crawl back in. Oh How I like to run Feet push the ground so fast Oh how I put my head in the sand Wait for all these things to pass But I feel that magnet pull me pull me out into the light pull me back to my life where there is no place to hide
5.
Airport Joe 04:10
Well it's Monday morning at that Nashville airport My uniform is clean they call me Airport Joe I buy my daydreams with these low wages Let em fly just as high as they can go I clean the filthy bathrooms for the general public It's hardly a pleasure man I'm happy to tell you about it Humanity is just too deep and cruel Ain't no telling what these people will do and there is no shame from my vantage point I'm an airport worker yes I'm here for you you got somewhere to go so you step on me somewhere to be, hell it's all about you And all I want is a good life Tell me the price Tell me the price for it now I've worked hard Don't know what for They call me Airport Joe Call me Airport Joe Well I always saw myself in that music business Big Wigs just throwing money all over my songs I wouldn't have to wear this uniform ever Out on the tour bus where I belong But I'm driving home from work on these bald tires Spinning daydreams of being out on tour I 'll get out there and I'll melt those faces Toothbrush on the dashboard guitars in their cases I could be rubbing elbows with some of those Pseudo Noble, Salt of the Earth, Nashville Posers But I wake up from my dream and the toilets flushing Hell, I just found myself ten years older And all I want is a good life Tell me the price Tell me the price for it now I've worked hard Don't know what for They call me Airport Joe
6.
Far Gone Era 04:18
C'mon Destiny let me back in I felt the fall from the pages you had written See me out in the distance there I am Beyond forgotton but I hope to come around again I sure miss my purpose as your protagonist To help your readers learn through my pain I was born when you created my illusory sense of self from that far gone era From a far gone era From a far gone era you wrote the sequel and I was captured while trying I was known as a tryer of many things For you I would have tried forever but you shut me down You had to leave room for the succeeder So you front loaded that chapter with my earnest temperment then twisted my endeavors into failed experiments Your fans they loved it You know they've always loved you They want to see the world through your camera from a far gone era From a far gone era From a far gone era
7.
Field Song 04:53
Well the Killdee cry oh they fly away As I roll down here to my field I'm sitting still Head on swivel Tractor tires turning In this lowland field That's where I'll be Lost in the fog at six AM Oh let the sun come up and Burn it all away again Yes I like it down here in my field Where my plants grow all day right by the river bend Let the sun brown my skin Spend my days in this field Yes I like down here in my field Where we work all day right by the river bend Let the sun know our skin Spend our days in this field Father handed down All those arrowheads he'd found Over by the burial mound At the edge of my field I sit still Like many before me Tractor tires turning So let the blue plume rise hear the diesel chatter bounding antlers when we harvest again Oh it will be a miracle One of many Out here in my field Yes I like it down here boys in my field Where we work all day right by the river bend Let the sun brown my skin Spend my days in this field Oh I like it down here boys in my field where my plants grow all day right by the river bend Oh let the sun brown our skin Spend our days in this field
8.
Toothbrush on the dashboard Guitars in their cases How many miles can this Van go? How many songs and places Out here in the wasteland Well You get us paid and the band Stays strong I never seen a band live too long Hydroplaning on these bald tires Four months been out on tour Yea Guitars in their faces Out here in the Wastland Going only lonely places C'mon down to the wastland boys Those Holy roads of Illinois The same ol' place where the Kickapoo roamed before they got that white boy rust belt syndrome What's this engine light telling me right now What's this engine light telling me somehow What's this engine light telling me right now We're not gonna make it Out in the wasteland Guitars in their faces Well I don't care if I die right now Stuck out here with the wasteland blues C'mon home you got the wasteland blues You got the nothin to loose wasteland blues What do you want me to loose What do you want me to loose If I die right now C'mon home you got the wasteland blues I don't care if I die right now Stuck out here with the wasteland blues

about

It was Autumn in Illinois and the cold basement floor at my friend's house permeated through that dingy grey shag carpet up into my crosslegged teenage-self.

A curly cable sprouted from big old headphones which clung to my head while my spine hunched over my orange Japanese stratocaster until my legs and feet were numb.

I was 15 yrs old and I had a wha wha pedal, electric mistress flanger, radio shack omni-directional microphone, handed down curly guitar cables and all of it was plugged into a black plastic yamaha 4 track cassette recorder.

The machine belonged to the older brother of my friend and he had used the machine to record comedy skit performances of himself, talking with himself in different impersonated characters of his own original comedic writings.

He was 5 years older and the comedy was way over our head but we thought the concept was really rich and funny in it's own way.

The first memory I have of trying to really pin down a song on that 4track machine was my doings of Jimi Hendrix's "Burning of the Midnight Lamp".

It was one of the few songs I thought I knew so I put the Jimi original cassette in the boombox on the floor next to me for referencing, wrote down the lyrics and spent an entire rainy Midwestern day pecking, chopping, butchering and basically burning that "Midnight Lamp".

My buddy who played bass ignored my attempts to create a start-to-finish custom version of "Midnight Lamp". He was watching TV, cleaning his room listening to music on the stereo and talking on the phone( all in the same room ) while I fiddled with the recording unit until it was ready for him to add the final basslines.

No drummer or metronome to keep time with, he reluctantly added his part. Clearly defeated, he handed back the headphones to me as if to say he was underwhelmed/ bummed at my level of musical craftsmanship.

I must have started, stopped, rewound the tape 1000 times that day as well as adding cream on top by singing the lyrics into an unforgiving radioshack mic. I did sing through my Electric Mistress pedal which made the words completely imperceptible and muffled.

All the cassette tapes we recorded onto back then were my friend's older brother's handed down homemade comedy cassettes.

Upon playback we could still hear one the voices of his brother's comedy routine on one of the tracks playing side by side with the song.

That was perhaps one redeeming feature of my now complete version of "Burning of the Midnight Lamp".

All the work and time spent that day only to find that the track sounded so impressively bad we knew we would have to start recording only our own music.

This formative memory snippet from circa 1991 became an influence to recording the "Bow and Arrow Days" album.

I wanted to go way back there and make recording music a homemade art project again. I wanted to feel like I was off-roading in an older farm machine with raw minimal essentials (smelling gas fumes:) rather than a spaceship or high luxury vehicle which "real" studios can feel like to me.

I wanted to return to the work table each time for this album with pencil, scissors, razors, glue, pins, rubberbands, wax paper and boombox with cassettes.

I was hoping to exercise those old ways and go it alone on this one for the sake of remembering how to just mess around with a few tools and see what can be done...

credits

released September 4, 2020

Feathered Mason - Guitars, Bass, Drums and percussion, Steel guitars, Banjo, Keys and Vocals


Featured Artists:

Jennifer Jane Niceley - Background Vocals on tracks 1,2,6,7,8




Recorded by:


Recorded, Mixed and Produced by Feathered Mason
@ Tractor Angel studio
All Songs Written by Feathered Mason
All Songs Eric Davis (Leon Music ASCAP)

Except #3 William Butler Yeats ( Public Domain ). Music by Feathered Mason

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about

Feathered Mason Tennessee

Feathered Mason is the (sometimes) solo project of longtime musician, born a couple decades too late to a French mother and Midwestern father deep in the heart of Illinois. While early influences
were steeped in blues and psychedelic rock regular trips to France listening to his twin uncles sing harmony & strum guitar secured a place in his heart for folk/roots music
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