for no one (or welcome to the new age)

On a cold night in the twelfth month of the two-thousand and fifteenth year of our Lord, armed with nothing but his tone-deaf acoustic six-string, American treasure - singer-songwriter-noisemaker - Joel Rockey entered Space Station Caleb (the current ramshackle recording facility employed by The Mustard Room Sound Recordings) with the intention of recording tracks for a handful of new original compositions. However, in a twist of creative defiance, he let the tape machine roll as he instead plowed through an assortment of songs written by other people. No one else was present. No one cared. And yet here it is forever documented in this collection of zeros and ones for no one to listen to ever. Welcome to the new age, nerds.

songs from the fire bowl

Another year has come and gone and i've once again recorded a collection of songs to give away to family and friends. 

The songs in this collection have been with me for about as long as I can remember. I’ve been singing their lyrics at Camp Olivet since I was a fetus in sneakers. It was at Olivet that I first began strumming the guitar to their often mislabeled chords. These songs and the meaning that they hold have evolved with me over the years. Today, some of the lyrics make me roll my eyes with their horrible theology. Some of them send a shiver up and down my spine. Some of them are simply beautiful meditations on the character of God and his kingdom.

As a child, my cousins and I wrote verses for “Humble Yourself” to sing one Sunday morning. Those new verses found their way into the Camp Olivet songbook and have been synonymous with the tune ever since. At some point during my early adolescence it became expected of me to sing “Keep It On Going” every day at camp until my voice was no more. Now an adult with children of my own, I have returned to Camp Olivet to play my guitar and sing these songs. The sessions are loud, often goofy and sometimes surprisingly moving.

I’ve found new life in these songs. I have accepted that like anyone who has a history with Camp Olivet, for better or worse, these songs are a part of me.

i am bleeding, hear me rawr

Collaboration is the name of the game. For thirteen years now, i've given home-recorded and assembled gifts to family and friends during the holiday season. Some of these collections of song were assembled over a period of time. Some were written and recorded within the two months leading up to christmas eve. Some have been collaborations with family and friends. One particular project was a collaboration with my four-year-old daughter. This year, i asked the people of the internets to flood my inbox with song requests. I then asked folks to vote on the songs that they would most like for me to record. 

After the voting ended, my wife and kids and i migrated north to settle into a century-old house in need of a whole lot of love. Eventually, the list of songs elected by the people of the internets began reminding me of the project that i'd promised to deliver. Late nights and early mornings became prime time for recording these modern day standards until lo and behold i gave birth to a short stack of compact discs. I'm thankful for all those who took the time to participate in this project. It was challenging, inspiring, and a whole lot of fun to make after spending so much time hammering away at this old house. Enjoy this aural monstrosity RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.

Welcome to the new year, beautiful broken people!

satellite's gone

About twenty years ago, as a young college sapling, i discovered a misplaced cassette tape in a parking lot. Printed on the plastic casing of the tape were the words “Walk On The Wild Side - The best of Lou Reed”. At the time, my familiarity with Reed’s work may or may not have begun and ended with the words of that title. Regardless, I took that tape home and quickly secured it into the winding wheels of my sony walkman. I spun the wheels backward until the tape ran out, pressed play, and heard the words, “Satellite’s gone up to the skies. Things like that drive me out of my mind…” Everything that followed melted my mind.

The music was a little weird, a little gritty, a little funky, a little sweet.

It was poetry. It was honest. It was rock. It was roll.

The following is the first proper recording from the new far-from-renovated studio of The Mustard Room. It is a precursor to a forthcoming album of cover songs democratically selected by friends. It is a disheveled yet affectionate tribute. Dig it.

The bat loses its wings

My four-year-old daughter and i collaborated on this conceptual piece of music about a baby bat who takes flight for the first time, loses his wings, and then must reattach them before flying home to be reunited with his mother. The whole idea included making CDs accompanied by activity books and t-shirts under the title, "The Bat Loses Its Wings". We did that; and it all originated in the mind of that tiny little lady of mine. Over the course of several months, the two of us drew all the pieces of our little project together. We then decided, after much deliberation, that we would christen our little creative outfit/band: Call Me Kitty. 

And it was so. 

These two tiny friends helped lay the instrumental groundwork for the flight of our titular character. They are the major players in the Call Me Kitty arsenal.

Here are some stax of bats and bat-related activities that have since been distributed to the people with whom we shared holiday festivities.

Feast your eyes upon this pair of masterpieces completed by two of Baby Jane's young pals. This is the young artist's dream realized. Voila!

And now, without further ado, please enjoy the following ten minutes of musical whimsey which we call...

Movement I: It Was a Lovely Day

Movement II: Taking to the Sky

Movement III: The Bat Loses Its Wings

Movement IV: Falling

Movement V: Searching...

Movement VI: Glue

Movement VII: The Bat Loses Its Wings (Reprise)

Movement VIII: Going Home

Movement IX: Mama's Wings

Thanks for listening.

Neue and olde dreams for america

In recent times near and far, one found himself amid precariously placed microphones and a small legion of stringed instruments. What resulted were two rapid-fire recordings: side A and B, if you will, of the following sideless song selection: 

Side A was written back in the autumn of twenty ought eight. Side B was written at the tail end of september in the current year. They both smell like olde spice and taste like early times. Enjoy, whippersnappers!

In other less 'hey-look-at-what-i-made' news: 

Hey, look at what our friends Biak and Sui made...

Hniangtha Khun was born today. 

She's 11 pounds. 

Way to go, Sui.

Remember to remember

My granddad was born on the 29th of february. He passed away a little over a month before baby jane came along. I spoke to my gramma on the phone this evening and we shared memories of the birthday boy. She recalled his last birthday four years ago. Gramma was picking him up from a senior care facility he'd been staying at briefly. The folks there had pulled out all the stops to make a big deal about his birthday, seeing as it only came around every four years. As they were loading up the car with all of granddad's belongings, they lost hold of the majestic balloon that served as a proclamation of the day's celebration. They watched that balloon disappear into the stratosphere. 

A few months later, we said goodbye to granddad.

Before ending our conversation over the phone, gramma remembered aloud how much she enjoyed watching granddad interact with little children when they'd be out shopping for groceries. She said that he was particularly comforting toward those who appeared upset or distressed. I wish he could have been around to spend time with baby jane and the good doctor. I have a feeling they would have enjoyed some lovely moments together. 

Until another time when heaven and earth become one...

While you were away

It's been a whirlwind of a month or so since we last corresponded. That's my way of explaining how lazy i am about typing words on this thing. I'd like to say that i'll be more frequent with the updates, but i can't promise that. After all, there are more pressing issues at hand. In case you missed one of the greatest nights EVER, you can read the recap at INDYREFUGEE(dot)COM. Needless to say, it was an amazing night of art, frivolity, and bringing awareness of burmese refugees to those in attendance.

Due to a smorgasbord of projects (and two kiddos) already demanding my attention, this holiday season's offering of sonic morsels was a collection of random, previously unreleased home recordings spanning the past five years or so. You can download all  twenty one tracks at NOISETRADE(dot)COM/JOELROCKEY so you might as well go ahead and do that right now. Feel free to leave me a tip, but if you don't want to, that's cool too. Listen for baby jane chatting in the background of a few tracks. The cover art features what mama jane lovingly describes as a 'naked potato' shakin a tambourine. You make the call...

Now, a few random thoughts and observations from the past several weeks:
-We need more black licorice twists.
-Three-year-olds talk smack.
-Three-year olds think they're in charge.
-We can't have nice things.
-Families are messy.
-I'm really more of a sheep dog than a bear.
-Repurposed desktop art is still en vogue.
-The one with the beard is the one who leads.
-Sometimes what appears to be chicken pox is simply a possible case of hand, foot, and mouth.
-No one knows as much about anything as my friend JD does about Saved by the Bell.
-If you want a baby to poop don't feed him bananas.
-Love is realized fully only in its being shared with someone else.

That last one came out of the brass tacks discussion my pops and i have been chewing through regarding the apostle paul's letter to the corinthian church known more specifically as 1st corinthians. By the way, if i haven't mentioned it before, my pops is rad.

Finally, i was honoured to make the acquaintance of one miss jennifer (aka turquoise feathers) upon her request of my involvement in her short-run, handmade mag featuring five handmade artists. She's a rad lady with a pretty rad guy in his own right. Below is a snapshot of the piece she had me write up about the mustard room. You can take a look at all of the pages of the mag titled 'pen & needle' on her blog at these precise coordinates.

One last thought: It's much more fun to refer to muffins as 'M, U, double-F, Ins.' Try it.

Indiana dreaming

As the indiana days go from bone cold to sloppy hot, we speak of longing for the sand and surf of lake michigan and her mighty dunes.

I may or may not be wrong, but it seems like the last time we found ourselves traipsing along those sandy shores was way back in the ought seven when mama jane and myself retreated from the world to hide away for a spell. I recall writing a few songs around the campfire. Upon our return, i began recording demos of these and others in preparation for a record project soon to be called 'kiss it all goodbye'. Among these demo recordings was the following diversion from the usual arrangement of a song often performed by the former super group, rebel robot. Cheers.

Liquid

Baby times equal good times, extended times at home with peoples of various shapes and sizes. A whole lot of gettin' real familiar with one another and the fluids we produce. Don't worry, we won't explore the details of that one. But i digress. As mentioned previously, tiny folks have a way of putting things in perspective for the older dudes and duderellas who painstakingly took the steps to bring them into this groaning world. Many other plans have been put on hiatus for a hot minute while we adapt to life as a family of four. Until then, there are treasures being mined, and projects bubbling just under the surface.

Back in june of twenty ten, i sat in the summer sweat shoppe and recorded a little ukulele-accompanied tune known as 'words'. In the same sitting, i scratched the surface a bit with this guy who we call 'okay'. Dig.

The one what got away

Way back in the year twenty ought nine, i swapped some lukewarm cash from years of birthday savings for a barely touched boss digital recorder. At the rockey home, we seem to have the worst kind of luck with desktopial computing systematics. On the srsly tip, if you have a working desktop computer which you would like to see suddenly malfunction beyond repair, just bring 'er on by our place. We'll take care of things. Oh yeah and if you (yes you) are the person who had the audacity to staple your home computer repair sign on our gorgeous privacy fence... We've got your number pony boy.

Back on track...

I created some sounds and spoke some voices into the previously mentioned digital recording device and what happened was this...

Back in the day, those in the biz would have referred to this one as an EP. Look it up youngsters. This particular EP is made up of the following four songs all handcrafted at the rockey home:

1. orange moon
2. darling, regardless
3. tonight's the night
4. panacea

You can download this digital piece of wax for free right here. If you'd prefer, you can check it out at bandcamp.com. Either way, thanks for listening. Never stop dancing.

The gift of peace queer

"Clearly, anyone who looks at the photograph can tell that I had been abducted by an international league of peace queers and forced to write protest music. You know, for their cause," says mister todd snider.

Download todd snider's eight song album 'peace queer' for absolutely free dollars.

If you're not familiar with mister snider's songwriting, familiarize yourself now.

Dig.