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.

Just tell me what it is that you want

“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.” -Walt Whitman

Several week ago, i made a drawing of a blase feline accompanied by the word “Yawp”. I immediately posted a photo of the drawing to ye olde book of faces asking who might be interested in trading currency for a snuggly t-shirt featuring this untamed beast. Apparently, i wasn’t alone in finding humor in the juxtaposition of a domesticated animal and this word of wild abandon from Whitman’s famous poem. The response pushed the project forward and forward it went.

Not only did i print a short run of t-shirts, but also a few handsome totes that are perfect for carrying around big fat records, books, and so forth to and fro. Everything can be found – in limited numbers, mind you – in my ONLINE SHOPPE.

Asking friends to participate in the decision-making process for this little project was super rad and i hope to do it again soon. Thanks to everyone who gave their input and to all those who continued to bear with me whilst my tendency to procrastinate kept these shirts from being printed for far too long.

Love, The Mustard Room

Don't tell a soul

There are faces of various shapes and sizes slowing emerging in the darkened hours of the day.

They are summoned by the likes of these fellows.

A professional advertisement, no. 1