heartbreaker

Look. There's nothing that I can write about the guitar-slinging rebel from Gainesville that someone much more eloquent and informed hasn't already tweeted in one hundred and forty characters. But, doggonit, Petty's songbook slowly became so woven into the fabric of my life that it was almost unnoticeable. Unnoticeable that is until I look through the stacks of mix tapes and compact discs that I've curated for Miranda over the duration of our almost two decades together. Petty's everywhere. Especially in those early mix tapes, his name is showing up over and over again on those J cards.

From the beginning of our relationship, Petty and the Heartbreakers were major players in soundtracking our courtship. During our first year of dating, Petty released Echo. You know, his divorce record. We would listen to it over and over and over again while driving around Muncie, IN, eating bean burritos, and dropping in to see friends working third shift on the edge of town. That summer two of sat under the stars and reveled in Petty's masterful live performance. During our first year of being husband and wife, we were driving from Indy to visit friends in Terre Haute. We were listening to Petty albums on the car stereo and getting so lost in singing along to our favorite songs that before we knew it, we were almost in Louisville, KY. We had been driving for over an hour in the wrong direction without a care in the world. They're just a handful of moments, but such great memories.

Ugh. There's been a lot of devastating news to endure lately. Petty's passing to the other side of life seems unexpected. Again, there's nothing new that I can necessarily add to the conversation. But, the songs he gave us... Wow. They will forever echo down the longest of highways and under the darkest of summer skies. Several years ago, Miranda and I watched the 4-hour doc on Petty and the Heartbreakers, Runnin' Down A Dream. It. Is. Stunning. You can watch it right now on Netflix and you should if you haven't. I know... 4 hours... Worth it. In the film there's a clip of Petty and the boys performing a song that was ridiculously kept off of the album Long After Dark at producer Jimmy Iovine's request. In hindsight, the band believed that the track "Keeping Me Alive" should have been on the record. 

"Sometimes we ride around. She plays the radio up loud. If I was sad, well I'm happy now." 

In a world of uncertainty, Petty reminds us of what matters: Love and music.

Thank you, Mister Petty.

freedom has a new name

I wrote this song over a decade ago as an indictment against my own apathy. I hope that it carries a word for you during these disorienting days.

Love.

Empathy.

Peace.

sometimes it snows in april

I read the news and now I'm sitting in a public place eating chicken and waffle fries while my children scream and frolic with their friends in a plastic room that smells like feet.

The loss of Prince is shocking and sad for a great many of reasons. The man was only fifty seven! He was arguably at the top of his game (does he ever fail to astound when he's holding a guitar?) Oh, and also, like Bowie, he seemed impossibly, eternally ageless. 

I grew hearing of Prince and occasionally happening upon one of his songs here and there on the radio and the bygone music television channels of my youth. However, my real introduction to  the breadth of his mad genius came via one of my closest high school friends. 

 Beginning my junior year of high school and lasting well into our college days I spent countless hours as one of a rotating cast of characters riding in my friend Patrick's car. I remember he had one of those multiple disc changers that he had to load from the trunk. Among others, Patrick's compact disc collection consisted of Parliament, Lenny Kravitz, Queen, and mostly Prince. A shit ton of Prince. Our wise ass crew was never without a soundtrack to accompany our teenage shenanigans and you best believe those shenanigans were riding high on some funky New Power soul. 

Over the years, I became familiar with albums like Lovesexy and Sign O The Times and songs like "She's Always In My Hair" which weren't anything of which I had previously been aware or expected. I joined my friend on many a trek to record stores in search of one more Prince bootleg. I found myself caught up in conversations revolving around the details of this man's peculiar relationships with protégés and record companies. Eventually, regardless of how obsessive i may have found my friend's fandom to be, I got it. It only takes one glimpse of this guy letting loose on a guitar solo to realize you're experiencing something special. That swagger. That sly grin. Effortlessly manipulating that guitar. He was like Mozart and Hendrix and James Brown and like no one else before or after. 

 Many have and will continue to write more adequate words than I'm certainly able to conjure. These are my memories. Just a few memories of my formative years. Years which were set to a good deal of music composed and performed by this guy who changed his name as much as he changed his wardrobe. I'm grateful for the inspiration he's given to artists over the years. I'm grateful for these memories. 

Thanks Patrick. 

 Thanks Prince. 

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.

happy thanks, y'all

Celebrating with family the Rockey family during the holidays has always been a daylong event brimming with a whole lot of food, a whole lot of people, a whole lot of noise, a whole lot of laughing. This thanksgiving, we sat around an amazing meal with grandparents and great grandparents at the home in which i spent my high school days. We heard my grandfather tell stories that my dad had never even heard before. We added a new moniker to his already long list of nicknames: Grampa Junie. It was such a quiet, joyous affair that eventually turned into creative wonderland. 

Just when it looked as though the evening would be drawing to a close, we were joined by my uncle Conrad, cousin Becca and some new friends who immediately found themselves lending voices to a surprise recording session taking place in the family room. After warming up our guests with a sing-along, i passed the baton to Olivia Jane who passed out paper and crayons to everyone and invited us all to make drawings.

Here's one of Olivia's incredible drawings paired with a lyric sheet that she requested of me.

My contribution to the collection of drawings. Old friends being thankful.

Olivia's great grandfather delighted us all with his masterful rendering of a horse.

Olivia then had everyone who contributed drawings (and vocals, by the way) sign this cover sheet for the collection. We continued to laugh and eat chocolate-covered delicacies while dreaming up nativity-inspired colors for an idea-pitch to Crayola. Possible crayon colors include "soft manger", "star of bethlehem", "donkey grey", "gold", "virgin white" and "becca's favorite".  It's difficult to imagine that this idea won't make millions of somethings.

Holiday traditions have come and gone over the years, but i'm thankful for children who inspire me and invite their family to create colorful memories together.

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.

Metaphor cocktails

One of the super-rad things about having kids is when they come to you with ideas that are both super-ambitious and ultra-inspiring. For four years now, baby jane has been witness to my many creative shenanigans including sound recordings, live performances, not-so-children's books, screen printed apparel, and the like. Sometime during the summer, she realized that while perhaps lacking the resources and know-how to see it to completion, surely she could concoct a project far more epic than anything her olde man could dream up. And so, in a flurry of well-placed compliments and dangerous hand-gestures she shared her vision with me: A redemptive story of a bat told through music and interactive visuals lovingly packaged together with a screen-printed tee shirt to be worn and/or shared with one's beloved. 

"BRRRRRRILLIANT!" i exclaimed with great joy and anticipation. We quickly got started on laying out the narrative of her story. Months later, we began to demo the movements of the musical composition. Now, here we are and the dawn of november and we're in the process of recording, mixing, drawing, creating, et al. 

The other great thing about kids is that they typically can't read your mind. Of course, there are those times when you have in mind a certain way that they will create the artwork for a project you're collaborating on, yet they throw you a curve and steer the whole thing in a slightly different direction. (Mixed metaphors are fun, huh?) In this particular case, my simple idea of an illustrated booklet has been upgraded to a more robust, slightly bigger, interactive activity book by the young architect herself.

So there it is. I'm working on a concept album with my four year old daughter. I can only imagine that it gets even more exciting from here on out. Although, at some point, she's going to discover that her olde man is holding her back and she'll surround herself with more creative folk than myself to help her bring her art to life. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Blessed curse

Hey, beautiful peoples of earth! Twas a wonderful weekend of song, friend-making, and conversation-havingness. I hope your's was the same. Yea for people. 

Now, two things:

1. Do yourself a favor and get really into this wonderful trio of folk who make lovely music: PEARL AND THE BEARD
2. My baritone uke and i made this new song together. Enjoy.

Blessed Curse by Joel Rockey

Indy refugee at the earth house

Ladies and dudes, the Earth House is closing shop, but our little project instigated by the rad ms. katie basbagill  known as INDY REFUGEE will be opening and closing our exhibit at the Earth House this saturday night, y'all.

Along with the gorgeous photographs of our beautiful refugee friends, you can enjoy music by Old Thyme Eskimo and yours truly. Did i mention snacks? Oh yes, there will be snacks.

Check some press on the event: NUVO News

If you're in indy on saturday night, please come out for this one night event as we bid a fond adieu to the Earth House. Check the deets here, you lovely people you: FACEBOOK EVENT

Behind the music

sad ringo, lonely mac

Goodnight nobody

At long last, another long-playing album of original song for the people to enjoy. We welcomed the new collection in to the world by performing songs from this and previous projects at the strange brew coffee house. Twas a magical evening in which friends and families were dazzled by sweaty howling and attempted guitar demolition. Our incredibly talented friend, scott hensley, also wowed us all with an opening set of majestic fingerpicking and poetry. What a treat. 

Get the new record here.

Now, here's kind of what the scene looked like from the crowd, courtesy of a rad guy who goes by the name derek arza:

Thanks, all.

Singin' in the breeze

We have amazing friends. Two of those friends just so happen to be scott hensley and court wilkins. They are old thyme eskimo. They make beautiful music with all their strummin' and pickin' and blendin' of magical voices and what not. Recently, we set up a microphone in our backyard and punched record whilst the eskimo delighted us with their sweetness. Here's a listen:

Old Thyme Eskimo - Still Gonna Die

We're calling it 'field record' and you can pick one up when you come out to see them perform at the strange brew coffee house next friday night. I'll be there as well promoting my new record titled 'goodnight nobody'. Here's a visual reminder:

We'll see you there. Wink.

Sounds you can feel

Five long years ago, some stuff happened. This stuff would inspire much of the material found on a collection of songs that i wrote and recorded during the fallout. My friends Emily Rae and Old Man Johnson assisted with their hands and voices here and there during the recording process. Emily Rae (under a pseudonym) wrote some epic, cryptic liner notes. Upon release of the album, brothers from other mothers, Jason, Andrew, Ryan, and the Shuff joined me in sonic unison for a raucous rock show. The whole production and subsequent performance served as a sort of therapy.

Now, at long last, you can have a fresh copy of this album in the popular compact disc format. This limited edition of fifty includes a handprinted sleeve, a booklet with notes and such, a hand-painted disc, a miniature poster from the release show, and a handful of bonus tracks. You can get yourself a copy right HERE. Enjoy.

Most of the lyrics to the songs in question were composed on this electric Smith Corona whilst consuming an unhealthy volume of coffee.

Old Man Johnson pounds and kicks the old gretsch kit during the recording of "used to be so bored". See how the guiding light of goodness shines upon him trough the mustard room window?

Here's a candid shot of the banjo and i sharing an intimate moment during the recording of "through radio waves & passing sirens". Our relationship is frustrating at best, but we have our moments.

Here's myself and the brothers from other mothers kicking out the jamz while rehearsing for the album release party.

Later.

Labor intensive

While other folks were busy taking a day off, we got busy getting it done. I'd like to say that we were responsible for the meticulously disassembled acorns, but that would be an obscene exaggeration of the truth. We met a group of young Chin girls at the park who deserve all the credit.

Lawn snuggling at the park is best when it's below eighty degrees.

In between taking walks to the park, sorting clothes, eating eggs, drinking coffee, balancing budgets, and sneezing our brains out, we managed to work some more on this song:

Now go open all your windows and sneeze your brains out.

Eureka

I've been literally banging my head against the wall trying to find the right combination of thisses and thatsies to capture the sounds for this current batch of sing songs. Recording is oft a hodgepodge effort which produces a varying degree of listenable and unlistenable output alike. After days and weeks of playing and recording onto laptops and digital devices and magnetic tape, i have married together all these into a wired monstrosity which sort of looks like this:

And so, recording moves forward...

For now.

However, in the end it will all go horribly wrong after fire and pitchforks bring judgment down upon my glorious monster. This, as we all know, is how the story goes.

The continuing story of a quack who's gone to the dogs

Almost a year ago now, my bro from another mo moved clear out to NY with his lovely family. When i discovered that they would be back in the g-wood for a hot minute (aka two weeks) i begged and pleaded for a few hours of his precious time to hammer out some tracks in the mustard room. Always the gentleman, Dr. Bob obliged and we ended up spending two morning/afternoons constructing a couple tunes with nothing but some guitars, a hammond organ, a wash bucket, and our childlike optimism. We laid some healthy foundation for a few pieces of the new record we're finally getting around to making.

I only wish we had more time, but we bid Dr. Bob and his family a fond adieu as they trek back to the NY. I'm thrilled to death that we were able to get a couple of days playing and recording together. It was also a great delight to all of us (particularly baby jane) to have Dr. Bob's boy Jake hang with us during the first sesh. Our deepest gratitude goes out to the entire Dr. Bob family. Why not follow Dr. Bob on twitter @RS_Freeland?

Here we are rehearsing one of the tunes we spent some time on:

Olde friendse

This week we've spent some quality and not-so-quality time with some olde friends. Some of them have collected a bit of dust over the passing of time, yet we help them to their feet, dust off their hind parts and hold their hands as they learn to walk again. They will dance again. Oh, yes. They will indeed dance again. Today, we spent a couple hours in the lavatory with this dude...