"Welcome Back, Crazy Priest"
I was in the studio with the band, and whenever we commit ourselves to each other within a creative context, we completely isolate ourselves from the outside world to keep our spirits aligned with the specific aspects of the “invisible” we are exploring for each song we dive into. It’s a necessary stance we all must respect, particularly Jeff, Miss Isabel, and me, as we are not only involved in many different endeavors but are at the center of pretty much every single one of them – from coordinating our hotels in Tangier to managing our new and recently opened vinyl pressing plant venture. No need to explain how easily our focus can be sidetracked from the heartfelt disposition we must maintain as we seek to discern the “spirit” outlines we are contemplating to immerse our minds into. It’s no simple affair to have 6 people in the same room, meditating as one entity, while holding all sorts of noisy instruments, let alone to seriously believe that somehow, they will touch what feels like an elusive piece of eternity, as pure and fragile in the process. What could possibly go wrong, right?
I guess that’s what was very challenging for us when Mikko joined us at first. There’s no going “fast” in the motion leading to discern the very sensations of spiritual unconsciousness you crave to become. Assembling patterns of cool and fashionable notes is “simple” for any musician, but giving life to an elevated piece of soulful art might take a lifetime commitment to do so. No wonder why Leonard Cohen felt like he needed to spend 5 or 6 years in a monastery to redefine himself. We all have different ways to do so. One element remains universal, no matter what we believe in or not; we all have something or multiple things in our lives that we consider “sacred” and “holy”. For some, it’s family, for others, it’s career, money, power, compassion, or whatever “God” that fits that role. One of mine is art, and the more I grow within that introspective realm of physical impermanence and concept of “eternity”, the more I realize how much time, love, friends, emotions, “words” and all I’ve sacrificed at the hasty altar of tangible absolutes.
I guess that’s what was very challenging for us when Mikko joined us at first. There’s no going “fast” in the motion leading to discern the very sensations of spiritual unconsciousness you crave to become. Assembling patterns of cool and fashionable notes is “simple” for any musician, but giving life to an elevated piece of soulful art might take a lifetime commitment to do so. No wonder why Leonard Cohen felt like he needed to spend 5 or 6 years in a monastery to redefine himself. We all have different ways to do so. One element remains universal, no matter what we believe in or not; we all have something or multiple things in our lives that we consider “sacred” and “holy”. For some, it’s family, for others, it’s career, money, power, compassion, or whatever “God” that fits that role. One of mine is art, and the more I grow within that introspective realm of physical impermanence and concept of “eternity”, the more I realize how much time, love, friends, emotions, “words” and all I’ve sacrificed at the hasty altar of tangible absolutes.
I believe that “life” resides in the imperfection and improbable assemblage of color shades, in “accidental” sounds, and in illogical layers of uncertainties. It’s almost impossible to “unrationalize” your pre-conceptual views. Add corroborative “experiences” to the mix and your brain is unlikely to defy what has been defined as “truth”. Humans are all dogmatic by nature and to create something exempt from those “absolutes” requires you to fight, resist, rebel, and stand up against what is the logical extension of your personal “construct”. I guess that’s why the rest of the band kept on telling me that I don’t have to scorn my soul, bleed my mind, or hurt my heart to provide honesty to the creative process. But it doesn’t have anything to do with pain or suffering, it has everything to do with freeing myself from every single dogma and experience my existence is being intertwined with… and there are plenty.
I know that I’ve often addressed those impalpable “concepts” throughout my different studio diary entries, and it’s not for a lack of subjects to share about. You know me enough to understand that I don’t lack stories to commune with you now. 😉 It has everything to do with the fact that I’m living the writing, production, and recording album journey in real-time. And I’m not shy to expose how it’s going, nor how I feel, for real. With all due respect to all the people involved, I’m not into writing polished, bleached-out, unscented, and tasteless types of promotional narratives for the sake of feeding my “brand” and manipulating readers’ perspectives into believing just how amazing I am. I’m not different from any of you. I’m scared to be seen for who I am, scared of not being enough, scared of being irrelevant, meaningless, and all and all. The best way for me to emancipate myself from all those irrational fears is by being honest, as wrong and temporary as it might all be in the end. Today is made of how I feel, as inaccurate as feelings can be regarding reality, but it’s nonetheless how it is. At least, today.
I know that I’ve often addressed those impalpable “concepts” throughout my different studio diary entries, and it’s not for a lack of subjects to share about. You know me enough to understand that I don’t lack stories to commune with you now. 😉 It has everything to do with the fact that I’m living the writing, production, and recording album journey in real-time. And I’m not shy to expose how it’s going, nor how I feel, for real. With all due respect to all the people involved, I’m not into writing polished, bleached-out, unscented, and tasteless types of promotional narratives for the sake of feeding my “brand” and manipulating readers’ perspectives into believing just how amazing I am. I’m not different from any of you. I’m scared to be seen for who I am, scared of not being enough, scared of being irrelevant, meaningless, and all and all. The best way for me to emancipate myself from all those irrational fears is by being honest, as wrong and temporary as it might all be in the end. Today is made of how I feel, as inaccurate as feelings can be regarding reality, but it’s nonetheless how it is. At least, today.
Interestingly enough, that’s pretty much exactly what I had the privilege to share with Lee Ranaldo from Sonic Youth, regarding the endless spectrum and limitless barriers of our unconscious minds when it comes to creation. The production process is the vehicle that needs the engine of our soul. The fuel or electricity is our heart’s passion, and the needed propulsion is the fierce determination we have to hit the open road. If you want to get to a fixed and predetermined destination, take the public bus or carpool with someone who has been there enough times to not even have to think about it to reach its final mark. If it works, if it’s relatable, if it’s economical and controlled, there’s no creativity in any of it. There are no discoveries, no surprises, no discomforting evolvement, no empowering inspiration… there’s nothing to be excited about. You will reach your destination exactly the same way as when you left. The only thing that will remain is a growing need for everything known and safe. You’re programming your existence to settle for rationality, to act reasonably, to be domesticated by your affective easiness and purposeful passivity. Ain’t that a terrible state to deliberately put yourself in? You’ve arrived, and you are therefore a “complete” product of your creative nothingness. Hopefully, it’s not irrevocable. Nobody is reduced to a life of dull repetitions. We might feel emotionally dry and empty but we’re not condemned to settling for dreamless days without a shine. As Lee and I agreed, we are a constant piece of art in the making. Some of the most vibrant details take more time to define.
So when I reopened the production session we did for a particular song we had worked on during our first writing, production, and recording stretch, I listened, listened, and listened again and asked myself “Who is this?” “What is that?” And “How is it that standardized?” There’s no one to blame, nor am I ever looking for any guilty party when I miss the mark. But while listening to that, I didn’t miss the mark. I wasn’t emotionally involved or intimately engaged, it sounded great, just like so many soulless songs are wonderfully wrapped in everything perfect and more more more of the same overused recipe for “success”. I hated myself more than the song after listening to that generic radio-ready object of a forgettable piece of single-use plastic product. As I’m not known for being difficult to read when I dislike something, Ben turned to me and he said: “We were wondering how long it would take for you to realize that this one is not you at all.” To what I answered: “I knew it wasn’t me, but since what I am or not remains a deeply puzzling notion for me, I figured I would know soon enough if that song was “it” or not.” Everyone looked at me before Jeff added: “You’d never put that song on the record and if against all odds you’d ended up doing so, you’d never play that track and you’d always despise it. Am I right?!?” Moose slipped in to mention: “It’s no big deal if we’re ditching that one brother. We can even add it on a B-side or something in the future.” This word, B-side, lit me up instantly: “If by B-side you mean some garbage song I would shovel to my people on some future deluxe version or some unreleased material project… f*ck that sh*t. I’ll never do that… PERIOD.” And I added: “Ben, can you open the demo version we did of that song? I want to know where I lost myself and why I wanted to work on that one in the first place.” Everybody stood up and started to clap their hands. I was like; “What’s going on here?” “WELCOME BACK ALEX HENRY FOSTER”, they all cheered together. What?!? Ben screamed: “THE CRAZY PRIEST IS FINALLY BACK!!!” Wait…?!? What? Who? We all laughed…
Ben opened the song’s original demo for us to listen to it. Once it came to an end, we all looked at each other and didn’t exchange a comment, a word, or anything. We took our respective instruments and immediately started to dig into what suddenly appeared for us to have a profound display of genuine, fervid, and pure emotional cathartic nature. We would dig and dig, dive and dive, and dive some more. At some point in the evening, it was time to have a listen and Jeff said: “That’s “it”, that’s “you”, that’s “us”, that’s our “process”.” Ben, smiling, asked: “Doesn’t it make the album now?” I simply answered “YES!!!” And Moose added: “Like I said earlier, screw those B-sides bull-sh*t”, and we all started laughing.
Whatever it was, to have such a clear vision in my heart and soul at that point felt incredibly good, as well as way beyond any of my usual desire to understand the reasons beneath those fulfilling sensations. See, I’m not that crazy after all… Right!?! 😉
So when I reopened the production session we did for a particular song we had worked on during our first writing, production, and recording stretch, I listened, listened, and listened again and asked myself “Who is this?” “What is that?” And “How is it that standardized?” There’s no one to blame, nor am I ever looking for any guilty party when I miss the mark. But while listening to that, I didn’t miss the mark. I wasn’t emotionally involved or intimately engaged, it sounded great, just like so many soulless songs are wonderfully wrapped in everything perfect and more more more of the same overused recipe for “success”. I hated myself more than the song after listening to that generic radio-ready object of a forgettable piece of single-use plastic product. As I’m not known for being difficult to read when I dislike something, Ben turned to me and he said: “We were wondering how long it would take for you to realize that this one is not you at all.” To what I answered: “I knew it wasn’t me, but since what I am or not remains a deeply puzzling notion for me, I figured I would know soon enough if that song was “it” or not.” Everyone looked at me before Jeff added: “You’d never put that song on the record and if against all odds you’d ended up doing so, you’d never play that track and you’d always despise it. Am I right?!?” Moose slipped in to mention: “It’s no big deal if we’re ditching that one brother. We can even add it on a B-side or something in the future.” This word, B-side, lit me up instantly: “If by B-side you mean some garbage song I would shovel to my people on some future deluxe version or some unreleased material project… f*ck that sh*t. I’ll never do that… PERIOD.” And I added: “Ben, can you open the demo version we did of that song? I want to know where I lost myself and why I wanted to work on that one in the first place.” Everybody stood up and started to clap their hands. I was like; “What’s going on here?” “WELCOME BACK ALEX HENRY FOSTER”, they all cheered together. What?!? Ben screamed: “THE CRAZY PRIEST IS FINALLY BACK!!!” Wait…?!? What? Who? We all laughed…
Ben opened the song’s original demo for us to listen to it. Once it came to an end, we all looked at each other and didn’t exchange a comment, a word, or anything. We took our respective instruments and immediately started to dig into what suddenly appeared for us to have a profound display of genuine, fervid, and pure emotional cathartic nature. We would dig and dig, dive and dive, and dive some more. At some point in the evening, it was time to have a listen and Jeff said: “That’s “it”, that’s “you”, that’s “us”, that’s our “process”.” Ben, smiling, asked: “Doesn’t it make the album now?” I simply answered “YES!!!” And Moose added: “Like I said earlier, screw those B-sides bull-sh*t”, and we all started laughing.
Whatever it was, to have such a clear vision in my heart and soul at that point felt incredibly good, as well as way beyond any of my usual desire to understand the reasons beneath those fulfilling sensations. See, I’m not that crazy after all… Right!?! 😉
The “Crazy Priest” Story
I guess I have to pause for a second to explain that crazy priest allusion, right?!? That “appellation” comes from a few reviews that came out while we were touring Europe in 2021, as the journalists were associating my Moog with a pulpit and referring to the way my black shirt was buttoned high up. Also, the fact that I’m totally invested in my music looked like I’m in a trance (maybe?!?) or possessed (Which I’m not. Well, not that I know of). They mentioned that I looked as if I was conducting the band like a choir conductor and seemed to be screaming at someone or something that seemed to be on stage with us because I was doing it on my own and far off from my microphone. And they talked about my glasses being entirely covered with fog… and on and on. Those were actually quite incredible reviews, but the band members paid a lot of attention to that description and would scream “HERE COMES THE CRAZY PRIEST” when I would let go in rehearsals or would be intensely passionate about art ever since. It’s annoyingly funny. Maybe I should wear some bright and colorful Hawaiian shirts from now on … NOT. I would probably be called: THE VACATIONER CRAZY PRIEST or THE COLORFUL CRAZY PRIEST! 
All in all, I’d rather keep my black buttoned-up shirt.
