Behind the song "Revisions"

The song “Revisions” is about experiencing gaslighting. Parts of the song describe the innate beauty observable in a person, while others allude to their darkness, mutability, and ability to manipulate. As a listener, it is easy to catch red flags from outside in quiet creepy sections, “You wanted to keep the control, you said you loved me, said we were chasing the gold, but your eyes, they stayed shaded”. It is clear though, a self-questioning persists, alongside a desire to uncover where things went wrong, to understand pivotal moments of change, or revise the past to capture it’s meaning. The answers however, are in the hands of the gaslighter, and we witness a tragic self-doubt leading to insanity “I fold over revision, revision, revision, revision… and in each version I ask what could have been”...

“Revisions” was featured on CBC’s Saturday Night Jazz; likened to songs by Radiohead or Massive Attack. As a creator I would be remiss if I didn’t highlight some of my favourite collaborative happenings which took place in the creation of “Revisions”. The first involved musical contributions from Chris Dadge, who amped up the creepiness of the quiet sections with eerie percussive textures. As well, Graham Lessard delivered on Brock Geiger’s vision to enter the track on vibes. When this song landed in Pam Tzeng’s choreographic hands, she embodied all the feels, somehow combining confusion, tragedy, evil, despair, and insanity. This was matched by the editing stylings of Landon Johnson who leaned into a “Suspiria” like colour palette, then timed and layered takes to build a narrative journey. I am so lucky that my co-creators bring joy to the darkest subject matters, helping me move towards positive resolution.

Revisions

Changed like a reptile in the shifting light

Tongue unravelling new illusions

Were these true colours, or was I deceived 

Did they just pop, against your new backdrop

I fold over revision ...

And in each version I ask what could have been 

You wanted to keep the control 

You said you loved me 

Said we were chasing the gold

But your eyes, they stayed shaded

To go back to the pause 

In the quiet snow 

I remember what your love was

Soft in the cold

A broken smile

Gentle hands 

You were just a man

You wanted to keep the control 

You said you loved me 

Said we were chasing the gold

But your eyes, they stayed shaded

I fold over revision ...

And in each version I ask what could have been

Behind the song “Stars Still Dying”

The summer my father died, the sky outside turned to a red dome layered by a hazy gray ash blown in from forest fires, and although so many other challenging times lurked in future timelines, in that moment it felt as though the world was ending. 

One question I pondered was “How long do you stay to honour a dream?”

Life is strange in this way. We don't enter, leave, or cycle on the same timeline as our loved ones. We are also tremendously lucky if we leave life with all of its external forces aligning so that we can obtain a personal sense of completion. I wondered how my father felt about what he was leaving behind, and if he had been able to accomplish what his heart desired. 

In the hospital a transition between us happened. We connected less and less in the physical, and we bound together within layers unseen. It is in that lush deep green garden where we combine energy, sometimes revisiting old memories and sometimes the new. When I return from this shared dream space it is as though a veil of smoke has been lifted. There is a shift in the quality of air, and it reminds me of the incense I burned for him that night by the river, while the sky grew dark, helping the stars to shine. 

“Stars Still Dying” is a love song for my father, exalting simultaneously the depth of joy shared, the potential of love, and the recognition of what loss leaves behind. 

Stars Still Dying

The first breath is arresting

We don’t all come full circle at the turn of time

This chalice has a poisoned rim 

We sink, cognizant and comfortable

Knowing that there is no win

And the man who’s a boy can protect the impregnable

Still we all lose some days 

That’s just the way

It was as far as we had dreamed 

The garden grew deep, the incense rising

Lifted as heat to stars still dying

Gone just like magic by the morning

We couldn’t pull back the glass 

So we stood watching 

Our eyes projecting the past

Lenses of love, of longing

To be aware is to tread with care

Resting in the pain you’re living

It was as far as we had dreamed 

The garden grew deep, the incense rising

Lifted as heat to stars still dying

Gone just like magic by the morning

How long do you stay, to honour a dream

to honour a dream

* these are the longform lyrics, matching the full length track on the album

The Pandemic Pie Revival Society

As the years of this pandemic tick forward, I have noticed a fundamental shift in who I am and what I desire. It could be argued that this would be a byproduct of time as a whole, but perhaps these strange times have forced my hand in an accelerated way, and in directions I would not have chosen. 

Before the pandemic, I worked as a flight attendant for a major airline, to supplement a career as a musician. I was always on the move, working, traveling, or touring, and I embodied the work hard play hard ethos (pun intended). I had also just begun learning to fly planes, and my trajectory as a student pilot involved a fast pace, pressure cooker learning environment. 

Being laid off as a flight attendant, and graduating from pilot academy into the largest recession in aviation history, was actually not the first time the rug had been pulled from under my life. What was different this time however, was the abyss of time which stretched ahead and the inability to exercise any freedom of movement within vast physical spaces. 

I had spent a decade exercising my ability to go almost anywhere, not just traveling, but to a music venue, to a restaurant, to the grocery store without paranoia… and all of a sudden the external world circled progressively smaller. For a while, honestly this was bliss. I could finally be in the same location two Mondays in a row, and wake up in the same bed every night. I was able to consider getting a pet, practicing an instrument consistently, or cooking a meal at home. 

But eventually, along with most people, a level of monotony at being physically restricted settled in. Sure, the “privilege” of not traveling was a bummer, but actually where restrictions really burned was in the inability to see loved ones, and questioning if you might accidentally bring covid along with you. 

So where am I going with this really? 

First, I want to acknowledge our realities have morphed through a fundamental change, aptly summed up by a comic strip in which a person tells their friend: “The irony is, now I don’t really want to go anywhere”. 

But more importantly I want to highlight that through the pandemic many people have been able to focus inwards, and have become tenders of their own curated little bi(h)omes. Curators of new small businesses, or home gardeners. This internal focus is something I have always loved about creating art. We are able to create terms that are our own, boundaries of encapsulation, self-directed intent, and as many or as few terms as desired. This process that can be tailored from within, and can positively direct energy, providing both meaning and control.

I wanted to share a few things I tended in my small world during covid, which helped temper the mental darkness of a pre-covid life lost, and broke up the monotony of repeat covid days. 

One is the immediacy of cultivating joy in the moments you are existing in. My pup Juno reminds me of this every day. He demands play, lives to give kisses and cuddles, watches intently out the window muttering mini barks under his breath. Juno lives in full commitment to each moment, and each feeling is a full expression of himself. It is genuinely beautiful to watch. 

Second has been the joy of working towards a live show of the songs from my upcoming record. This backwards re-creation of recorded material, often on new instruments, is painstaking. But like watching a building being built, layer by layer I am overjoyed by its formation. I am in awe of the phenomenal creative support I receive from my music team. We are working towards goals, and although actual performance restrictions change constantly, there is joy in creativity itself and collaborating creatively with others. 

A final ritual that really brought joy to my pandemic life was the institution of dessert nights with my bubble of pilot friends. Dubbed the “Pie Revival Society”, we would rotate a chef each week who would arrive with a themed edible creation. Our light competition of manifesting delectable delights demarcated each week with meaningful conversations, provided perspective on our isolation neuroses, and it gave me the gift of a tiny community. This vagabond family drove away the blues of not seeing family on holidays, and was a reminder that there is always something new to discover in the people and places where you already exist.

I am curious, what joys have cultivated within your covid orbit? Tell me about the small things that brighten your world and radiate through the dimness of these strange days.

Hazy Days - Lyrics Explained

Have you ever known, the instant you met someone, that you were profoundly connected? Without uttering words, your aura’s interlock into a familiar pattern, one you couldn’t have conceived existed before that moment? Time stands still, and something metaphysical shifts as you sink into the depths of each other’s eyes, and together you are transported to a space not bound by human dimensions. 

“Hazy Days” is a retelling of that experience, once clear, but now only a remembrance. The song is an acknowledgement that we are not always able to stay connected within each lifetime. We are each on a journey larger than we can control or conceive. But sometimes, if we are lucky, special moments allow us to trace the spaces between our fingers while our palms are pressed together. In this way we feel and remember what it is to be mirrored, understood, cherished, and forgotten. Each experience of love is a gift, no matter how transient. 

During the second verse, I imagine the tailors of time embodied by wise deities in the original gardens. I envision them spinning the tapestry of fate from delicate spider web timelines. The lovers in this song are creatures entangled in one version of a lifetime, but through their tears they glimpse the mirage of the archaic garden before them, where their origin story began. For a moment they glimpse an alternate outcome, the version in which fate unfolds in their favour and they are not divided by circumstance, but another cycle through reality pulls them apart, their souls waiting to connect again in the ultimate timeline. 

Hazy Days is a brief flash of summers past, and I hope the listener is transported to a nostalgic moment they would like to remember.

Two Types of Happiness

Perhaps even more elusive than succeeding in love, is our success as humans at finding happiness. We see glimpses of it around us, we are inundated with pictures of it, on occasion we even grasp it when fortune and our hard work align. 

More often than not though, happiness as an external idea. It’s a debt-like cloud that floats above us blocking the sun, or an inconsistent friend who shows up at their own convenience. Happiness gives us the little fix needed to keep us invested, but for many people, happiness shows up too infrequently. 

The conditions for happiness appear to be a complex rubix, requiring everything to align. There is no equation that fits all sizes, and the depth with which we each struggle is completely unique. With complete respect, I believe the choices each person takes towards achieving happiness, must truly be tailored and unique to them alone. This post is not intended to question anyone’s personal methods. Rather the intent is to realign our perception and relationship with happiness as part of a daily reality. 

But first we need to examine love. When it comes to love we have all heard the adage, “it takes two to tango”, and it is true, a good relationship shouldn't require a mountain of work, but both parties need to mutually invest a certain amount of energy. 

Love has two faces.  

The more exciting version of love involves falling. The elation, excitement, nervousness, novelty, the flattery to the ego that someone might be interested in you. These feelings are a perfect combination for lighting up the body and brain in gratifying ways. This type of love is like riding a wave, even if you make it onto the ride, the experience is inevitably fleeting. 

The second type of love moves more slowly and is carried with you at your core. Think of how you love a family member or a friend. That warm, solid glow, stays alight on account of longevity. This type of affection is built from a series of small gestures and experiences that create a solid foundation you can return to like a home. 

What I want to posit is that happiness parallels these two types of love, except for one major difference, which is that you are in the relationship with yourself.  

The first type of happiness, like falling in love, exists in line with immediate gratification. It’s the feeling you get when the universe rewards you. It’s the moment you land your dream job, win a prize, or just buy yourself something nice. Like sun streaming through the clouds, you are lit up by a temporary surge of endorphins. In the best way this reward reminds us to stay on track and work hard, and at the worst chasing the feeling fuels our addictive self-pacifying habits. Often this type of happiness depends on external circumstances, and like a perfect sunny day, it is hard to chase. 

Personally I find the second of these parallels more interesting, because I am fascinated by the idea that our relationship with happiness throughout life can evolve. Similar to a relationship with a partner, perhaps the first step in that journey involves a choice to acknowledge, participate, and invest in order for improvement to occur. 

Happiness is remembered in moments, but elevating our overarching enjoyment of life, involves developing and maintaining a positive relationship with oneself. Is it worth investigating what this looks like for you? The more you invest in being attuned to your needs, desires, and boundaries, the closer you are to understanding how to build a reality that aligns with, and elevates, your experience of life. It is a life-long partnership, so the sooner you commit and invest, the sooner you will see a return. 

I hope you choose to acknowledge where you are, regardless of what that looks like. Know that you are deserving of the self-care and knowledge needed to improve your daily life. Every time we build and lose relationships we become more informed about who we are, so remember, similarly, each variation and experience of yourself you move through, is also its own form of progress. Do you believe you are worthy of the effort and investment? I do!

Let me know your feels @cleaanais

ICE RINK - Clea Anaïs

I never saw this path

This dew drop from the ether

Landing, invading, spreading. 

That the air would clear

Or that I could exalt 

A happy sigh again

You linger still

A smoke screen, 

a filter of agony, not romance

On hard days I breathe sharply

But the balance is swaying

It’s a fresh spring day in the park

The swings creek, the ice has become glossy

As kids we used to race laps in our bare feet

on the outdoor rink as it melted

I felt pain long before your time

and I never quit those races

I guess we were training

Wearing out our tender skin

while learning how to laugh again

We would hurtle onto the side-bank snow

Bellies to the air 

Clasping our pink soles

In those fragmented seconds

somehow losers and winners

Deep in childhood freedom

Nincompoops full of grace