Tonight’s Hang Ten gig had to be rescheduled, so I’m officially done gigging for 2025—unless you count the thee-a-tuh!
Making my stage-acting debut (discounting the “Meta Dada” release shows, of course!) a week from tonight with Evergreen Theater‘s production of “A Christmas Carol”.
This was really not my idea. My sweet daughter wanted to try out for it (likewise, never did anything like this other than the “Meta Dada” Soiree), and when I looked at the rehearsal schedule—2.5 hours, Monday-Thursday, for ~6 weeks—I unthinkingly blurted, “Gee, I might as well just try out for it, too.” Famous and foolish last words; there was no backing out of that.
We both wound up with parts, and all the practice and memorization’s about to play out on stage, for 6 performances at Cedar Creek of De Pere Event Center.
Definitely debated whether or not to spread word on this, but it’s got some great actors who deserve an audience, and it’s a well-scripted adaptation of a classic story. Consider this an extra-deep cut for you mythical Matty Day completists out there!
RIP Mani. The Stone Roses bass player had just announced a music/spoken word tour last week. I’d checked the dates, but all predictably across the pond. They’re still beloved there—especially the self-titled debut album, from 1989. When my wife and I were in London for our honeymoon, bopping around shoppes, no fewer than three of them had this platter playing. Timeless, even if it took me a few times to really fall for it.
The UK madness for the Roses peaked with their concert at Spike Island in 1990. Of all the music scenes I wish I could’ve witnessed, I long held Syd Barrett’s Pink Floyd at the UFO Club as my top “wish I were there” moments—but having read about that legendary Spike Island gig, that may have been even cooler. Noel and Liam Gallagher were there, pre-Oasis, absorbing all that’s great about that proto-Britpop/”baggy” swagger. Mancunians have this unparalleled knack for combining melody, rhythm, song sensibility and attitude, and the Roses—maybe more than any other band/album—managed to distill it with their debut.
The band made for a special cultural moment, and Mani was there, (literally) swinging his bass throughout it all. Thank you!
-Mati
P.S. I need to write more. I’d been holding off writing blogs, hoping to force myself to channel that desire into writing more songs, but I think that’s the wrong mindset; oughta just create whatever strikes me. More on the way.
Outtake from album photo shoot; photo by Loretta Crowe (more below)
Hello, Green Bay/Appleton!
Thank you, each of you, for coming here this evening! Tonight represents much more than the album I got to make with Sam Farrell and Alex Drossart, two of very my dearest friends. This all came together thanks to Cory Chisel’s studio at The Refuge and Ryley Crowe’s studio at Amano Print House. This came together with the assistance of over 20 guest performers, and side note, although we used modern technology to capture a few vocal snippets and monologues long distance, every instrument was recorded in person by some of Wisconsin’s very best musicians, which you’ll find credited in your programs. Speaking of programs, those were designed by Jake Phelps, who also designed the album art and fliers, which featured the photography of Lauretta McGee, who took the photos at the Fox Cities Performing Arts Center thanks to Director of Production and Facility Operations at the PAC Gerald Henley. Speaking of directors, Frank Anderson, Ridley Tankersley, and Oliver Anderson worked incredibly hard and pretty darn fast to film and edit the three music videos you’ll see debuting tonight, not to mention the outstanding projections Oliver created for a number of tonight’s performances, the live production of which is all being wrangled by the incredible Patrick Metoxen, here at The Tarlton with endless gratitude due to Tarl Knight and Kylie LaCombe/Gibson Community Music Hall with endless gratitude due to Dave WIllems. Yes!
Now… “Meta Dada”. What is?!
Meta, in a hyphenated word, means self-referential, which was a fun concept to play with across a solo album.
Dada was a European art movement begun in Switzerland in 1916 during World War I. Dadaism was anti-war, but it was also anti-everything. It was escapist, unadulterated liberation—the subjective, whimsical attribution and disattribution of meaning and significance at will. In short, who gets to decide what’s meaningful, and what’s not? This spirit would inform countless live performances and stage plays—called Dada Soirees. Dada also influenced fine arts, with its most famous work being Marcel Duchamp’s piece titled “Fountain”—which was nothing more than an upside-down urinal. A more contemporary artistic ancestor of that piece would be absurdist artist Maurizio Cattelan’s 2019 work called “Comedian”, which was nothing more than a banana duct-taped to an art gallery wall. Cattelan actually sold two editions of the piece for $120,000 each. I guess it had appeal(/”a peel”)…
Personally, as far as Dada, I get annoyed by tedious, subjectivity-masquerading-as-objectivity discussions about “What is art?” – “What is anything?!” – or “What is is?!” If that’s your bag, by all means, go argue with your buddies about whether a hotdog is a sandwich or whether cereal is soup but please, do it away from me, where it belongs, at 4am at the Blackstone/in a Lawrence dorm room – cuz I do not care.
I care much more about making and creating than deconstructively picking things apart. Granted, you know—à la omelets and eggs—a degree of destruction is necessary for creativity, and creativity is—without risk of overstatement—creativity is everything.
The creation I present to you tonight is my album, “Meta Dada”. The music is as meta and as Dada as it isn’t—the album title is ridiculous and ridiculously layered—as meaningless as it is meaningful, for everyone and for no one.
The idea for the name hit me in early 2021 from hearing an Englishman pronounce “meta data” as (stuffy British accent) “meta dada” and it somehow it inspired me to envision a sprawling yet idiosyncratic solo album. Never know when it’ll hit ya!
“Meta Dada”, nonsensical as it was, became the veritable North Star for my creative compass! To the point where even when Mark Zuckerberg renamed his stupid social media empire (say like a nerd) Meta some six months later, I didn’t change my course and I decided to keep the name—a decision that would be further bolstered per the recommendation of a focus group that I hired. This focus group bore out the statistic that a full 98% of humans despise Mark Zuckerberg for any number of reasons, including for how he creepily collects their meta data—meaning, 98% of people would appreciate my album title all the more for its bonus impact as an anti-Zuck zinger, so thanks for the extra meaning, Mark!
….But let me clarify, amid this pubic meditation on meaning, that it means the absolute world to me that you would all attend this show tonight. And I absolutely mean it when I say I hope you enjoy every second of this music and that you get a kick out of whatever on earth my friends and I are about to do up on this stage…
~Introductory speech to the “Meta Dada Soiree” – January 26/27, 2024
There it is—thus has flown the fastest year of my life. Out of gratitude for the people who made it so cool, and for the sake of remembering so many good and interesting times, I’ve got to try and write a bit about what’s happened—and, wildly, what will! Maybe this’ll also prove insightful for other independent musicians and you can borrow, learn from, or improve upon this slapdash blueprint.
To recapitulate, working one weeknight a week for most weeks, from April 20, 2022 to August 31, 2023 I got to make my dream album, with no pressure beyond what I put on myself. To do so I shamelessly called on help from countless talented people I know, or who my friends knew:
Engineers/producers/musicians Sam Farrell and Alex Drossart
Studio havers/musicians Cory Chisel and Ryley Crowe
Musicians Tashi Litch, Evan Snoey, Marko Marsh, Ryan Seefeldt, Frank Anderson, Andy Klaus, Ethan Noordyk, Brent Turney, Bill Grasley, Mark Jimos, Steve Johnson, Bill Dennee, Patrick Phalen, and Ryan Eick
Vocal contributors Valentine Michel, Jordan LeMay, my wife, several of my kids, and a few of my animals
Some might note the absence of my other bandmates from that list; I think I needed to mentally distinguish these tracks from my long-running groups.
Leading up to the recording sessions, though, I had privately decided to quit making music (!), made a drastic career change just before COVID-19 hit the world (!!), then went back to back to school thanks to COVID stimulus checks (!!!). The two bands I’ve played the most gigs with—Muddy Udders and J-Council—both unceremoniously dissolved amid this period, with our last gigs happening late 2019.
After Sam and Alex agreed to helm the sessions I began to full-on Scrooge McDuck-dive through my vault of accrued song ideas, lyrics, beats, grooves, riffs, etc., looking for pieces that still grabbed me (some bits being 15+ years old) or even resonated in new ways. After completing a marathon, 24-credit college semester, alas, I got my first full-time writing job, the likes of which I’d sought for a good dozen years. I mention that because of the interesting timing, as that job would whip me into a shape of creative discipline I’d never known, weirdly teaching me how to get things done—and I totally credit that ethic and approach for helping shape the songs for “Meta Dada”.
During the sessions, it so happened my bands The Foamers? and The Gung Hoes hung it up, and my bandmate Ryan Peerenboom died in an accident (miss you all the time, man). I also had a stint playing guitar for The Blowtorches, which more or less amounted to the band’s farewell run of shows. A year later, fall of 2023, saw the first shows of Country Holla and Goulash, with the latter later renamed Rodeo Borealis. My wife brought our sweet little baby girl into the world that September. My grandma, who meant absolutely everything to me—the only one of my blood-related grandparents I’d ever known, let alone met—died in October. How I loved that lady.
It was also around that time I left my full-time writing job—which, oddly enough, my last day on that job happened to be the day of the final recording session for “Meta Dada”—to riskily have a go at freelancing. I supplemented that by working a bit for my friend Justus Poehls’ tree service. Right around that time I was invited on the Rooted Wisconsin podcast, hosted by one of my college instructors who I’d really gotten along with, Brad Zima. The interview well covers where my head was at at the time:
To summarize the release of the album, I got permission from Gerald Henley to be photographed by Loretta McGee at the Fox Cities PAC; benefited from the design talents of Jake Phelps to create and submit the album art; worked with the great Justin Perkins once again for mastering; worked with Gotta Groove Records (per Justin’s recommendation) to realize the vinyl; conceived three different music videos and two promotional videos; and managed to create, round up all the props and costumes, do some week-of/day-of rehearsal, and perform for the “Meta Dada Soiree” release stage shows.
And Then What?!
Oddly enough—and seeming all the odder after rehashing that wild run—everything through the release was in some ways the easy part. Clearer, anyway. Sure it was a ton of effort, and I was publicly doing a lot of stuff I’d never done before, but I at least had a sense of what I was doing and how to try and do it.
What followed was different, though, and fittingly unlike the afterglow of any album release I’d been part of. Ordinarily, sure, you make a bit o’ hubbub for a release show, but it’s essentially a regular concert except people can buy a new release for the first time, and from then on it’s available at future performances. But with “Meta Dada”, there’d be no other performances.
I had never sold music at any of these stores, and they were all so damn cool about it. GBUFO and RNRL telling me they had sold all their copies and wanted me to bring more—I’d just never gotten to experience something like that. Not pictured above, but it was also cool to meet Isaac Lamers from the Present Age and Zebra Mussel at Eroding Winds.
Other than getting the records to these three stores, the only plan I half-had was to digitally release the songs each week with an accompanying blog series, containing song/video links, lyrics, session notes, and a stab at figuring out what I was going for with these songs. To whit:
At the Green Bay record release show, my Live from Stadium Drive brother Tommy Burns was kind enough to film the performance, setting up a tripod focused on the stage. What I hadn’t thought of, though, was for him to set up a “room” microphone, to capture the crowd reaction and represent the wonderfully lively atmosphere. As such, when I had “the cast” over for a watch party, the result was unfortunately underwhelming, being limited to a single static shot, no audience represented, and a soundtrack of basically the songs themselves. Still glad to have it as a memento, but unfortunately it’s not worth publishing as is.
However, one full performance was most fortuitously captured by my father-in-law—and if there was one song that I could’ve picked, this would be it:
One of my most literary friends, John Pigeon, also reviewed the show quite delightfully:
A META DADA KINDA SHOW
Review by John Pidgeon, 1/28/24
Friday night last at The Tarlton Theatre in downtown Green Bay, this sleepy community of ours was affronted by a multimedia barrage of music, film, and stage antics via a cultural event christened, yes, Meta Dada. So, what is META DADA? My wife, who would know, insists it means to be among the deliberately odd and non-conformist. And that’s as good a definition of any of the album release party which turned out to be nothing less than an assault of infectious, off-kilter artistry perpetrated by one Matty Day, singer, songwriter, stamp collector, and his cohorts: Sam ‘the ham’ Farrell, Alex ‘where are my keys’ Drossart, Ryan ‘how did I get into this’ Seefeldt, Jaci ‘he made me do it’ Day, Zuzanna ‘pick on someone your own size’ Day, and Oliver “I’m going to Hollyweird—no really” Anderson.
Let me describe it for you: in a quaint, darkly-lit theatre, among other unsuspecting attendees, you see before you a low-lying stage backed by what must be the largest white-screen in the city, when suddenly yon screen is illuminated by images of animation so softly impressionistic, so surreal yet naturalistic in its subject matter, that you are all but compelled to watch. Yes, it was that engaging, especially surrounded as it was by a musical score that somehow was able to only enhance the fantastic visual experience.
The film, titled ‘Four White Owls’, is the work of two local creative artists: Oliver Anderson, whose animation provided the stunning visual experience, and Alex Drossart, who composed the equally accomplished musical accompaniment. One can only liken the viewing experience to Disney’s 1940 epic Fantasia, except that instead of a ‘G’ rating, this one would likely earn an ‘M’ for its imaginative use of the human form in various modes of sensual expression. The reader may opine that this reviewer is only indulging in hyperbole when he states that this wonderfully collaborative product should be making its rounds of the short film fests this year, including the one with the little gold statuette clutching its staff or sword or whatever it is out there in southern California.
And that, ladies & gents, was just the Pre-Show! The night’s feature presentation, which also made use of the big screen, as well as the Sensurround speakers, was META DADA, Matty Day’s album release extravaganza featuring several well done music videos and multiple light-hearted stage shenanigans, all of it accompanied by the grandly eclectic mix of Mr. Day’s new song cycle, featuring honkytonk (‘Satan Gave Me Sunglasses’ and ‘I Need Another Vice’), frenetic aggression (‘Media Casualty’), early-to-mid-Beatlesque (‘In Our Coldest Time’), slow-rap-sliding-into-latter-day-disco (“Mild”), followed by the zany stage pantomime of “Sunburn”, a fine set-piece of musicalinguistics. And that was only Side 1.
After intermission, Side 2 proceeded with “Ode to Love” (sic), which held my attention to the point of my seeing now that I neglected to take notes; “Untrue & Not Enough”, featuring an excellent music video by Ridley Tankersley; “Lust”, to which Matty and his better half, Jaci, performed a nicely turned jitterbug; “Lady Circadia” (a great title among many), an upbeat progressive piece, also my personal favorite of the entire song cycle; and “Beauty Sleep” a lovely ballad with attitude.
Here then is one critic’s choice of the best songs (each written by Matty Day) comprising META DADA: “Sunburn”, “In Our Coldest Time”, “Untrue & Not Enough”, “Mild”, “Beauty Sleep”, and “Lady Circadia”. Happy listening to all . . . and to all a good night.
“Meta Dada” mediablitz
Having decided against traditional gigs, to support “Meta Dada” I forced myself out of my humble comfort zone and made myself get more visible than I ever had. It began with the two promo videos Tommy Burns produced, and picked up with the Fox Cities Core interview leading up to the release.
Really, Andy from WCZR had already given me a couple of pre-publicity on his show, asking my dear friend Frank Anderson about the album:
I’d become a good fan of both Fox Cities Core and Into the Music, particularly during and coming out of the social-distancing COVID era; feeling so newly and abruptly disconnected, I maybe felt a bit more drawn to local culture than I’d been before. Having tuned into many episodes, it was pretty damn fun to get to be a guest.
One of the coolest endorsements for the album came from prodigious promotor Tom Smith, someone I’ve revered since my teen years, and truly a consequential figure for Wisconsin music. My wife and I both cherish Tom’s influence on us from our formative years on; we individually became better friends with Tom over time; and it would be at a show Tom booked that my gal and I, then in our early 20s, first crossed paths. When we got hitched, we asked Tom if we could get him ordained and preside over the ceremony, which he expertly did. For the wedding I took him to buy a white suit, and he looked dapper as hell.
Goes without saying, but I respect the man, so when Tom told me he was going to review “Meta Dada” for the Green Bay Press-Times I flipped out a bit. I’d been reading Tom’s reviews since our days writing columns for Frankly Green Bay, but I don’t think he’d ever taken aim at any of my music. Press-Times is a bit spotty about publishing its articles online, so here are photos of it:
Tom’s incredible review helped to make the record one of the top sellers at GBUFO for a while, which was surreal to find out.
Amid the encouraging local enthusiasm, Todd from Rock N Roll Land turned Dr. Pat Warpinski onto “Meta Dada”. Dr. Pat is a weekly DJ at 91.1 The Avenue, co-hosting a Saturday Night Spotlight show, where over the course of a five-hour broadcast they cover a theme such as songs/influences of the Beatles, songs from the year 1975, duets, Bonnie Raitt, etc.
First, Dr. Pat sent me a message to say some very nice things about the album, and asked if I’d send him files for two of the songs to add to The Avenue’s rotation.
Man! Knowing the station’s style, I picked “In Our Coldest Time” and “Untrue & Not Enough”. I never actually heard the latter on the radio (others told me they did), but I did catch the former, and happened to record a bit of my silly self geekin out to it:
Then, for April, Pat (a.k.a. The Rock Doctor) incredibly chose my album to feature on the Saturday Night Spotlight show; it doesn’t not appear to be common for them to focus on a local musician. Mega yes there. He asked me to write a few things about the album and about each song, some of which he worked into the broadcast while adding his own commentary, along with Rob’s high-character groovitudes.
The night the episode aired, I had been invited out to dinner to celebrate my dad’s birthday with my parents and sister who was in town, and I definitely diminished the occasion by sneaking out to my car to try and record the parts when “Meta Dada” was on; everyone understood the conflict, but it sort of encapsulates how it’s felt to do work as a solo artist: makes you feel quite selfish at times, even in fleeting moments.
Alas, we all recognized this was rare and special, so I was able to capture most of the introductions to the songs, recorded from my phone, as well as my awesome wife setting up my laptop to record from the radio into GarageBand. I’ve compiled the clips here, starting with my ridiculous attempt to film myself in my car during what I thought was going to be the beginning of the broadcast:
After the way-too-wild, inaugural BAMMY Awards where I was named Original Artist of the Year, and “Meta Dada” Original Album of the Year, I had received another larger-local-media invitation when one of the hosts of WFRV’s Local 5 Live morning show reached out and asked if I’d be a guest. As a non-morning person, and having never performed the songs live—not to mention, having been part of some exceedingly poorly produced morning news performances in the past—I was reluctant to accept. But hey, if I’m proud of the work and want people to hear it, wouldn’t it be worth a try? Yeah man. So, I pushed myself to go do it, and scheduled to be on the show that week following the Avenue spotlight.
At the station, it just so happened Brad Bordini—a talented bloke I first met in my late teens—happened to be at the studio that morning, so that was very cool to see a friendly face at that hour.
Messin with levels (credit Brad Bordini)Foreground: Brad; Background: Moi (photo: Brad)
It was an extra trip not having a vocal speaker or monitor, and just playing out to a news production crew, but other than a couple of botched lyrics and slightly overzealous tempos I did okay. The interview threw me a tad; almost from the start when, as ticky-tack as it may be, the co-host thanked me for reaching out to her, whereas, again, I’d had to work up the good sense to accept her invitation. I don’t emphasize that out of pride, so much as the error felt mentally magnified amid my first ever solo appearance on TV. I split-second decided not to belabor a correction—you may not even notice in the clip below—rather, I just tried rolling onward.
As mentioned in the above clip, that next weekend I was invited to Rock N Roll Land for Record Store Day, to set up a table and sell/autograph records. Again faced with what could’ve been a very awkward affair, I figured I ought to get over myself and take the opportunity to spread word about something I’d worked hard on. And by golly, that day turned out neat, too! I sold and signed some records, got to meet people, see friends, and when I had a minute, dig through the 45s.
Tom Smith actually mentioned the album again in his following month’s column, reviewing King Louie Bankston’s “Harahan Fats”. (I admittedly only knew of King Louie from his rad band with Jay Reatard and Eric Oblivian, Bad Times; there’s so much good garage stuff out there to discover yet. “Harahan Fats” is quite cool, though.)
In May, local legend Frank Hermans invited me to be on his Frankly Green Bay segment on the local CBS affiliate. I’ve been a fan of his since my parents would take me to see the Frank’s Dinner Theatre shows at the S.C. Grand. I’ve mentioned this elsewhere, but he and his brother Heath were in attendance at a wedding reception I played at with Muddy Udders, and I remember those two getting a good kick out of us. Then when I went to see The Monkees (Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Mike Nesmith, after Davy Jones had died) in Milwaukee in 2014, I saw Frank at the show, and between that and his notorious Elvis appreciation the man pretty much gets my coveted All-Time Cool Pass™.
It was around 2014 that I also got to be a columnist (along with Tom Smith) and events list editor for his Frankly Green Bay magazine—now defunct, sadly, ending shortly after the untimely death of its editor, my friend Andrew Kruse-Ross. Which is all to say, I’d had some background with Frank, made all the more fond after he hosted the BAMMYs. And like Fox Cities Core and Into the Music, I’d watched a lot of his interviews before, so I was very happy when he asked me to be on his show. Though filmed in May, the segments aired in August:
Meanwhile, I played a number of gigs with Hang Ten, Rodeo Borealis, Country Holla, and played with Cory Chisel at Mile of Music. I got to DJ again at the Symco Weekender, too, spinning all 45s, many of which I’d bought from Rock N Roll Land while hanging there on Record Store Day, and another stack I’d bought while dropping off “Meta Dada” copies at Eroding Winds. But other than the portions of songs I played on the morning show, in an otherwise highly musical year, I never performed any songs off the record. Kind of weird, but I guess I’d determined that’ way’s how it’d be.
Something a bit more encompassing was even weirder about the year, but I’ll get to that later.
Amazingly, favorable mentions of the album seemed to keep popping up, in local media, on social media with pictures of people with the record on their turntables, and in person. One special instance: local songwriter Erin Burnheart had this great series of posts about songs she was digging (she had mentioned Hang Ten earlier) and featured “Media Casualty” on it:
I got introduced to Erin after that post, too, which was too cool, and really just wound up meeting a ton of great people from around here who I’d never met before, who’d say hey or drop a line after they’d heard the music. Does it get better than that? I’ve released quite a few bits of music into the void before, so compared to that, getting feedback from people was positively lovely.
In some seriously mighty company for the Stereo Hysteria’s Best of ’24
Wow?
Yeah man, t’was not a dull year for me. Did this thing race to the top of the Billboard charts? ‘Course not. But as always, my efforts were between me and… I don’t know, I’ll just say Rock’n’Roll™/”the gods.”
Still, as relatively active as I was, following the release, the vast majority of my efforts—as one could expect of someone with a decently-sized family—have gone toward my wife and kids.
To be pretty dang candid, it was also a tough stretch in the non-music sense. Freelancing can be great, in terms of flexibility, but I devoted a large part of that early flexibility to preparing for the “Meta Dada” release, having eased off of my writing gigs in the months leading up to it. After the record, which cost considerable cash (some of which I incredibly recouped after the release) I had a ton of work/income I needed to make up. Trying to make ends more than meet, in that high gear, naturally impacted my social life, too. To hit writing deadlines, I actually pulled more all-nighters in 2024 than I ever did in college. (I’ve since quit caffeine, four months strong, as if my brain’ll forgive me.)
But, no question: it was totally worth it.
So much came together on this album. It all existed entirely because two of my best friends had studio access and ascending engineering and production skills. Then there was the crazy willingness of so many contributors—to the album, its promotion, and the live show production. And the people I’ve gotten to know who have podcasts, shows, newspaper columns, or simply generously, independently use their social media accounts to shine a light. Then the fact that the records arrived four hours before the first release show.
What came together in my life was this backlog of insistent song ideas; my process of falling out of and back in love with music; my work ethic from the writing-on-steroids (not literally!) job I worked at the time; and my wife and kids’ willingness to let me focus on writing, studio time, what have you. A year on, and my kids still want to listen to the album, so that says something. Typically I don’t listen much to my past recordings, if only because I don’t want to get sick of them (or excessively/needlessly self-critique), but it was just irresistibly sweet of the tykes to ask to hear it again and again, and act out scenes from the release show.
Yet amid all the work and everything, it was quite a trip to put out this album and then not perform it live at all, while getting these reminders of its existence.
If I’m gonna get proper reflective…
Learn anything?
Yeah. Beyond concrete things about vinyl production:
-Make sure to include/represent the audience when filming a live performance.
-Dance choreography is hard.
-I don’t think I’d do the whole “release a single or two a week” thing after the release shows. If I could do it over, I’d put all the music out at once, and proceed to highlight the songs afterward.
-On that note, choosing to not release advanced singles was a thrill. It worked out, on account of interest I’d built up ahead of time, and since debuting the music was the purpose of the release shows. Advanced singles definitely make sense in other cases. What I do like, though, is a concept I nicked from Redd Kross: choosing to not perform forthcoming material live ahead of its release. Again, something of a luxury.
-Trying to earnestly start up a state-wide entertainment website during this stretch was quite a bit more than I could handle. I do badly want to provide that resource to people—it kills me every time I see someone asking if there’s anything going on, any live music happening, etc.—but boy is it hard to find the time to maintain it.
-It’s not easy doing this stuff solo. I mean, doing music independently is tough to do no matter what, but without a team of other collaborators with equal skin in the game, and to bounce ideas off of, or pool money with, keep up morale, lean on and even celebrate with—it leaves a lot for one person to call the final shots. Granted, it’s always hard to find the right people to work with, whose tastes, talents and work ethics line up. Going it alone, you can lose perspective, checks, and balances, e.g.: Was I stupid to not gig? Or, did I overdo promotion/exposure? Or not enough? It did force me to trust my instincts a bit, and I’m better for that.
-Counterpoint against “going it alone”: the following quote I just came across.
Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing weas ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.
~John Steinbeck, East of Eden
-Lastly, I would also not wait for a year to pass before trying to write up some kind of recap! Rather I would’ve highlighted things better along the way. Again, though, time felt a bit out of my control.
On that last note, thank you for joining me on this document.
Man, doesn’t that just bring up that all-time brain-bender:
Now what?
Well, it’s been a year and a half since the last session “Meta Dada” recording session
I got to be part of Joey’s Song (which, I’m overdue to do some recap posts on that), shows with Hang Ten, Rodeo Borealis, and Freedy Johnston.
I wanted to do the West Songfest, because (Steinbeck or not) I wanted to try collaborating like that, but I couldn’t break away from work. Maybe next year.
I think I’m going to try and make lyric videos for a couple of the songs on “Meta Dada”, just cuz I’ve never tried that. I’ve also got the funny lo-fi demos for the tracks that I kinda want to put out there sometime.
I also need to get The Foamers? and Muddy Udders music online. (That fourth, unreleased MU album [recorded with the late Dan McMahon] is just too odd to never be heard.) I’ve got the online distribution account space now since posting the LFSD song.
I’m about three months into devoting at least half an hour to making music everyday, regardless of how busy I am. (Cue romantic image of dude dozing off mid-fingerpick.) That may not sound like much, but I’m highly aware the world does not stop turning if I don’t make music.
I had hit up Alex Drossart about doing some duo shows in our downtime. We wound up booking a show at a private party during the upcoming NFL Draft, and I wanted to get us into La Vie Taverne for a live warm-up gig—but the way it worked out, instead, I’m first going to do a solo show there on Wednesday, March 5. This was very much a “book now, figure it out later” affair, but for two hours, more than a year after releasing a solo album, hey, I’ll finally be playing a solo show—just my ~third ever.
I’m up for a number of WAMI awards! If you’ve read all this, and want to help more people hear the album, I hope you’ll help to vote Here:
Rock Song of the Year: “Untrue & Not Enough”
Rock Album of the Year: “Meta Dada”
Album Art of the Year: “Meta Dada”
Video of the Year: “Midnight Diesel” (these last two are of course entirely due to Lauretta, Jake, and Oliver, respectively)
Is this the final word?
Never! But largely. I needed to compile this digital scrapbook before I could meaningfully move on.
I don’t know what I’m doing with future solo tunes yet, but you can find the upcoming solo gig amid the fullest music calendar I’ve had in at least six years.
Thank you all so much for the support! See you soon,
Well well… if it ain’t those lilly-livered Live from Stadium Drive-rs back to their tricks—this time with a song?!
That’s right, LFSD has gone audio—well, visual, too, technically, since this does give listeners some nice pictures to look at—with our newly expanded, professionally recorded tailgate tune “Gutekunst!”
The track honors Pack architect Brian Willis Gutekunst. Yes, we only learned his middle name while we were trying to come up with things for me to yell during the chorus. But we could never hog such sweet info, nor contain our admiration for Big Bri/Lil’ Gutey.
Join us for our humble submission to the illustrious canon of Packer songs through the years. Growing up in GB, stuff like this would legitimately be played on local mainstream radio stations. Gosh darnit, it ain’t high art, but it sure was our culture, and it needed a new entry—been too long since that “Donald Driver”/”Holy Diver” song was on the airwaves. Though one of my absolute favorites is just two years old: the Eddy J. Lemberger (of “I Love My Green Bay Packers” fame) absolute masterpiece “This World of Green and Gold”.
To the tune of the Rascals’ “Good Lovin'”, here it is, from straight down Lombardi Avenue, “Gutekunst!”
You may recall the tune from our most recent/not-recent-at-all episode — New LFSD: Packers Bye Week Variety Special — where we debuted a delightful, truncated, acoustic version of it. The time was right to hit the studio with the boys (to whit, Tommy Burns, Tyson Kratz, Alex Drossart, Sam Farrell, Ryan Seefeldt and yours Gute-ly) and make it suitable for tailgate playlists.
The inaugural BAMMY Awards show was a total blast. That collection of people in one sold-out room. I loved how none of us could act like we’d been there before. And yet Tarl and his crew, out of thin air, made this event that instantly felt well established. All the basic commentary people have about the WAMIs every year—the pious “music’s not a contest!” platitudes, the cynicism, bitterness, or denigration—were completely absent, and in their place just a vibe of “eff it, why not” and a succession of pleasant shocks—not just for the award winners, who were not notified beforehand, but for everyone of us surprised by such a well executed event. Pro graphics cued up for each segment. Frank Hermans as emcee. The Standard Collective playing a few bars of each just-announced winner’s music (Sam Stranz, you absolute mad man—that was so impressive for you to arrange all that). The incredibly designed and produced trophies. The incredible touch of the “In Memoriam” tribute.
It was a challenging honor to play the tune Ryan penned for The Priggs yet again, but bringing on Paul Becker was a huge boost for the rest of us (Andy Klaus, Tony Warpinski, Alex Drossart, Sam Farrell and me). Starting off with a half-assed Priggs prank would’ve been right up Ryan’s alley. His father, who graciously attended, told us how much he appreciated us bring the music to life once more. Really grateful Tarl asked us to do that.
David Wanie expertly handled the sound throughout the night, as well as the graphics on the projector.
I went to the show entirely ready to applaud whomever won the categories in which I was finalist and leave empty handed, and feel perfectly fine about it. Keep in mind I had sent the mastered “Meta Dada” tracks to the vinyl presser a good three months before the BAMMYs were even announced. Recording that album was so much fun, rewarding in every single way; it was seriously like getting to make my dream album. Then, driving home from Appleton after sessions, I would always resist the temptation to listen back to what we’d just worked on, instead saving it for the decidedly less exciting drive into work the next morning—and those moments were indescribably rewarding.
Then of course there were the record release shows, where I got to experience the thrill of showing the music to the people who took the remarkable chance of attending, with the absurd performances and stellar videos, alongside some of my best friends, my wife, and my daughter (and, by necessity, my baby daughter). I could not feel more fortunate for that experience. Beyond hoping to sell records, I could not ask for more.
The night was already so cool. I couldn’t have been happier for those whose talents were acknowledged. Of course I was happy for Travis, and then there was the criminally underrated Jamie Koebe getting love…. man, I’m going to stop there, though, because virtually every winner felt deserving. And for those finalists who didn’t win—the ranks of which I was well prepared to join—again, the work had all been done before the awards existed, so the music had already been made for its own sake.
That being said, of course it’s an honor to be recognized by peers. What a thrill to win these awards. Like I tried to express in my unrehearsed (preparing a monologue would’ve personally felt wrong, and asking for it to go undelivered) acceptance speeches, this recognition felt very much like a culmination of what I’ve done in the preceding 15-or-so years (much like “Meta Dada” itself).
I’m grateful to have experienced such a fun night, I’m grateful to Tarl and Kylie for making it happen, I’m grateful to the musicians, promoters, venue owners, record store owners, and the surly-yet-cerebral music supporters of the (real®) Bay Area.
These awards are just seriously encouraging. If you’re worried about them going to my head, well, after the ceremony, even in my fancy jacket, I could not get served a drink at a half-empty downtown bar, and I was back to regular work the next morning after changing a diaper. Life goes right on.
Even as some of the boring cynicism starts to creep in about this entirely good-natured event, it’s left me with some lasting inspiration.
First, having seen it in action now, I feel all the more inspired to work even harder to uphold my job as a committee member, if I’m brought back as one. Admittedly I could have spent more time researching the nominees I wasn’t familiar with. I’m hoping next year sees even more nominees, and Tarl mentioned more categories.
Second: yeah man, I want to make more music.
This city has never, ever felt to me like it has a unified music scene—there’s never been a “Green Bay sound,” and even when bands share members the music rarely resembles one another. But dangit, that room on Thursday night—shoot, if only for a night—felt like a bunch of people who happen to maintain our self-issued cards as members of the music cult, had mutual appreciation for one another’s efforts.
That first BAMMY Award show was a gem. Thanks to all who helped make it happen.
-Matty
P.S. My whole #MattyMonday series felt like the right thing to do, and it was fun to try something different, but I kind of assumed I’d be able to somehow make all the streaming platforms take those individual singles and turn them into a single album. Turns out that’s not the case.
So I’ve re-uploaded the album as a single entity. Which, unfortunately, is just going to make all of my streaming accounts look like a duplicated mess. I don’t really know what to do about that, so I’ll probably just leave it as is and rock my records at home and CDs in the car as usual. Turns out I am woefully stupid re: streamsville—not proud of it, just being real—so by all means, if you have advice on this stuff, I am so freaking open to it.
Welcome to the seventh and final edition of #MattyMonday, the streaming debuts of songs from my new album “Meta Dada”. Get caught up on previous releases:
As always, the best way to experience the album is consecutively and on vinyl; records are available at Rock N’ Roll Land and Green Bay UFO Museum in GB, at Eroding Winds in Appleton, and online via my Bandcamp page. But hey, in this cultural economy? I’m glad you’re checking out the songs in any method.
If you haven’t heard the songs before, I recommend listening to them first before reading all the context and lyrics. For those who have heard the music, I hope these posts add mad magnificence to your “Meta Dada” experience.
Man, if you’ve read all of these, I have to tip my cap. Hopefully it’s out of enjoyment rather than sunk cost fulfillment, like when I wasted untold youthful hours watching that awful show “LOST”. Perma-salty about that, even if it did teach me to better value my time. For example, I have no plans to watch the ninth “Star Wars” movie after the seventh and eighth ones were so wack. ….Okay, tough start to this one. I genuinely do want to complete this series. Let’s do it!
Electric Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Ravantha, Cigar Box Guitar: Matty Day
The session
The rest of the album would be recorded at Amano Print House; Ryley Crowe had set up a studio in the back of the shop where his fiancée works, and Sam and Alex were able to work things out to where they could move in and combine recording resources. I mega miss The Refuge. Let me add a bit as to why:
The Refuge
I got to experience such good times there and meet so many people who’ve become so dear to me: Cory Chisel, Sam, Adriel Denae, Oliver Anderson, Ryan Seefeldt, Kurt Kempen, Steve Wheelock, Chad Brady and more—that’s the single location where I met all of them for the first time. J-Council recorded hours’ worth of songs there. The Priggs album was recorded there. I got to do some wild recording sessions with Cory. The first J-Council gig was there. I had friends who lived there. I crashed there a couple of times. We got to hang out with people there of varying degrees of fame (and coolness!). Hang Ten came to exist there. It was the jump-off point for countless car pools to gigs out of town. Fires in the back at night, right on the river. Fresh air by the side entrance before or during sessions. Never-dull run-ins with Scar, the latter-day groundskeeper.
I want to say the last time I was there was when I was heading to Oshkosh to check out a guitar, and I stopped by to see Sam and Alex who were doing a session for… I’d known her as Anna Sacks during the heyday of the Steel Bridge Songfest, but now she has a different last name I don’t presently recall. I want to say the dudes had me drop off a bass for the session. Glad that happened, if that was the last time I was there.
So grateful it all happened! I really liked that place.
The session (continued)
Though I’ve now come to adore Amano, I was initially concerned about the move. “Beauty Sleep” would be the only song to be recorded entirely at Amano, and I was concerned about messing with the formula. Maybe it was superstition; after all, all the gear was the same, if not better, as it was combined with what Ryley had there as well.
Yes, gear heads—didn’t mean to leave you hanging—I did buy the guitar I checked out in Oshkosh.
And that’s the electric guitar on this song. No, I didn’t buy it just for this song, the way I bought the baritone just for “Midnight Diesel”; I bought this one more for using with Country Holla. Still, why not add another new sonic subtlety. More over, its hollow body made for some righteous feedback on the outro, for what Alex referred to as “Pinkerton” guitar. I’d never messed with feedback before—really quite invigorating! I resisted the urge to rerecord the whole album doused in it and changing the name to “Meta Machine Music”.
The one instrument I did buy exclusively for this track was an autoharp. Neat instrument; I just happened to see one in a pawnshop. For the track I did some playing on it while it was out of tune for the sound collage bits, and then tuned it up for the big strums at the end of the song.
I again used CJ’s cigar box guitar, and again in an unorthodox manner; while I did use a slide on it this time, I just did atonal slides doused in reverb and echo.
The other atypical instrument here—and the most exotic on the album—is the ravantha. Bit of a story behind this one. My grandma and her aunt (my great aunt), both widowed, decided to do some international traveling together; my great aunt was quite well cultured. Their first trip was to Vietnam, and they enjoyed the experience well enough that they decided they’d do more. For their second trip, these two elderly-yet-adventurous ladies went to India. That’s where my grandma bought me the ravantha. Incredibly tragically, though showing no signs of duress, my great aunt died in her sleep while they were in India. It was a horrendous affair for my grandma. The best you can say is my great aunt died doing something she loved.
Ravantha w/bow, cigar box guitar, autoharp (foreground: authentic ravantha case made of stitched up single jean leg)
I forgot to mention it in the song credits, but the song also features a large rain stick I was gifted when my great aunt passed.
My grandma was still alive when I recorded this song. She was my only blood-related grandparent I ever knew, and we were incredibly tight. I again used nylon-string guitar she gave me that I played on “Sunburn”, trying to approximate moody, Leonard Cohen fingerpicking.
Sam was an absolute gem on this one. He had the idea for the guitar feedback and helped set it up. He totally accommodated my endless requests for more delay here, reverb there, and the work he did with the wild sound collage in the middle is just great. The percussion he added was totally crucial, too.
Alex found just the right keyboard tone to embellish the vibes. His coolest move was to add the swooping, Theremin-sounding parts toward the end. Both Sam and Alex, as usual, just had no shortage of inspired suggestions, and also helped arrange the vocals on the big ending.
I’ve got to give extra love to Andy on this one, and not just because I gave him a loving hard time on the write-up for “I Need Another Vice”. Andy just nailed this one. Super understated to build up the odd tension of it, before the tastefully big finish. Again, we didn’t give him more than a couple takes on this. I think I feel compelled to try and trick super professional players like Andy into doing something that feels right, and is more instinctive or impulsive, by sort of rushing them in the studio. They’re used to playing perfectly, but this isn’t that kind of record. Relevant and sweet: I read this article Frank Anderson shared right around this time, about how the Romans would purposely mix imperfect concrete.
I added recordings of two of my kids fetal heartbeats to the sound collage. First was my daughter Zuzu, and the second was my then-unborn daughter Edith.
Lastly, we added another recording of Zuzu. Four years ago I brought my memo recorder in to say goodnight to her one night and to record her singing; at the time she loved “The Buffalo Song” (a.k.a. “Home on the Range”). Coincidentally, she happened to sing it in the key of D, which “Beauty Sleep” shares, as it does the 3/4 time signature.
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
When we did this song we didn’t know Edith was going to be a girl, but there’s something sweet about featuring these sounds connected to my two oldest and two youngest female relatives on this song. My grandma passed away one month after Edie was born.
I started coming up with this song when Zuzu was a baby, in 2016. I’d sing/rock her to sleep every night, with me often nearly, if not fully falling asleep in the process. Somewhere from that neither-region between wakefulness and sleep I snatched the “Sleep is enjoyable…” line and held on to it for years.
This was another song I imagined would be a Priggs song if I ever finished it, but only wound up finishing it for this album. I let this one come to me slowly. I kept a notepad by my bed to purposely record any odd phrases that came to me as I was beginning to doze. In general I actively maintained this open mindset to words for weeks, and would just jot down whatever mystical words I came across, or misheard at random. In compiling and arranging this random mass I tried to think of it in terms of Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus, who always had a way with indirect lyrics.
I just sort of accepted it as it came. It felt okay to try this out, especially after the tour de force of “Midnight Diesel”. Even fiendish, media-addicted sun worshippers need a chance to recharge.
Granted I did consciously, if gently edit the verbiage I’d collected from in my dreamy state. The shape it took is this surreal sort of love letter to my kids and ancestors.
Lyrics
It never ends
Won’t lose this war again
I’m complete—I can beat that
It’s you, it’s me—new history
Sui generis, true fallacy…
Each other at the back window
Sleep is enjoyable, if there are no toys around
Find soothing in every sound
Issue and source, more northern norths,
Future and once, be here – become – beyond
Bell to cannon
At odds, at ease, hazard a leap
Stars at your feet: there’s your world—verily
Internecine, interregna
All gallons spilt for you
In lieu in light of you
Inkling, intricate
Had it hidden even from myself, after the fact
Before the truth’s smooth mirror
Lidless eyes in dark apartments
Shameful indifference, honorable despair
Clear your head and listen,
Face of pure porcelain
Don’t lose sleep on side effects
Like beauty and happiness
Speak your father’s heart—
No not that one, that one—yes!
Sleep is enjoyable, if there are no toys around
Find soothing in every sound
Through endless hysteria,
Soul-spins and doldrums go ‘round
Still solitude, loftily surmount
Ancestral, celestial,
Eyes to sky, ears to the ground
The highly improbable noontide
Is hereby pronounced!
———————————————————
Thus concludes the #MattyMonday series. Thank you to all who’ve gone through it! I hope you’ve enjoyed these notes and anecdotes, but it’s really all about the music.
As always, the best way to experience the album is consecutively and on vinyl; records are available at Rock N’ Roll Land and Green Bay UFO Museum in GB, at Eroding Winds in Appleton, and online via my Bandcamp page. But hey, in this cultural economy? I’m glad you’re checking out the songs in any method.
If you haven’t heard the songs before, I recommend listening to them first before reading all the context and lyrics. For those who have heard the music, I hope these posts add mad magnificence to your “Meta Dada” experience.
All right, gang. Final stretch here. I’m finally making good on my original intention of just doing one song at a time. “Meta Dada” happens to end with the album’s two longest songs, so let’s give ‘em their own moment to shine.
This next song got the most feedback at the release shows, no doubt thanks to Oliver Anderson’s badass video, which is finally making its digital debut as well.
Electric Baritone Guitar, Upright Bass, Glass Jars: Matty Day
The session
As fate would have it, this would be the last song we recorded at The Refuge. There were some talks about some changes with the status of the property that had us sort of feeling like we were living on borrowed time for quite a while, but we finished tracking this one before any definitive moves were made. Well, almost; there was this weird little bell on one of the doors in the basement there—a door bell, if you will—that quite magically was in this song’s key of B-flat. I discovered this potentially righteous coincidence after we’d shut down for the night, and assumed I’d have a shot the next week to add it.
Alas, t’was not to be, though the song is hardly lacking for sonic curiosities.
For the opening monologue, we’d intended to have Sam’s old German foreign exchange student record it, but Sam couldn’t get a hold of him. As we’d had one of Sam’s friends who natively speaks a foreign language record the opening monologue for “In Our Coldest Time”, that would’ve been a fitting route, but nein.
Then, while visiting some friends at the delightful Green Bay spot Amphora, I was perchance introduced to a lady who lives here, but whose first language is German. We walked outside, and on the sidewalk on Broadway, she graciously recorded the monologue. I was hoping the spontaneity would yield an exciting, unexpected winner of a recitation, but I don’t think I was comfortable coaching her to get the right emotion, not to mention the cars on Broadway were far louder on the recording than they seemed in the moment. This was a bummer—I loved how random it was, the fact that she was a native German for authenticity, and since it’s a driving song, thought the sound of cars passing was a cool bonus.
Then it hit me: Chickenbone. Yes, my friend Jordan, while not a German native, is not only fluent in the language, but has a very distinct vocal timbre, and is an honest-to-goodness 60+-hours-a-week trucker. What he lacked in full-on Germanness he more than made up for with legitimate truckertude. Bless that man’s heart, he must have sent me 30 takes of this monologue, and it was very tough to narrow down to one, but I chose this one on account of the most like a dejected James Dean, and with all the great genuine diesel engine sounds.
My biggest splurge for the album was buying an electric baritone guitar specifically for this song. I tuned it down to B-flat because one of my other splurges was a set of harmonicas in different keys. Typically the low string on a baritone is B, but for whatever reason harmonica sets have a B-flat instead of a B.
Because we love Ryan Seefeldt and beg him to hang out with us all the time, but rarely get to unless there’s recording involved, we got Ryan to do the drums on this one. Oddly it was kind of like “Mild” where we looped him doing a bit of pounding on the toms. Sometimes we just know in our hearts when he’s the right guy for the job. His additional vocal bits are just perfect, too.
Also like “Mild”, my lyrics entirely dictated the structure, so again we basically just made an endless loop of the main groove, I threw down vocals, and then we built around it.
Part of that groove included upright bass. Go figure, with just one song left that needed it, the upright bass I’d indefinitely been lent by my pal Dan Kimpel was suddenly destroyed by my tiny kitten, who seriously weighed a pound, yet with a single bound, decided to jump onto and immediately off of the bass which was leaning in a corner, and tipped it over before it could be caught, landing headstock first on a stereo speaker and entirely snapping off the neck. It was devastating. The String Instrument Repair Shop in Green Bay took one look and said “nope.” Eventually my friend Jason Berken, who happens to be Bob Dylan’s guitar tech, somehow managed to get it rather back together, but that wouldn’t come until later. For this song I was graciously lent a replacement by my Muddy Udders/Gung Hoes/Rodeo Borealis brotha Roelke Barnhart. (I paid Dan for his bass, by the way, and he had several of his own, so it was all good. And I eventually forgave the cat. And bought a stand for the repaired bass.)
The other “instruments” I played were glass jars, which as humility would have it I was tuning (experimenting by filling them with different amounts of water) while my mother-in-law was staying over at our house one night, which made me feel not altogether cool or normal. And then there were the “tools” Alex and I played: electric shavers, blenders, a drill, and a hairdryer. Here’s a clip of us adding those sweet sounds.
Alex also had the idea to add some organ throughout, which turned out to be an ace move.
Then the real star was Marc Jimos. His session for this song predated the one for “Lust”, so this was my first time meeting him. Again, I sure felt cool and not at all ridiculous “playing” glass jars in front of him. He played baritone and alto sax, and man was he good, and was just game for whatever we had him do. I loved his freakout and free jazz playing in the middle.
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
As I’ve said, I had ideas for most of this album’s songs for quite a while, in some cases up to 15 years. The idea for this song, though, only came to me while I was sizing up the project and the tracklist. I just started plunking out that incessant riff on an unamplified electric guitar, and it felt like some kinda lost Bloodshot Bill groove. The rest of the riffs and rhythmic sax parts I came up with just jamming around on it. The main riff doubled by sax and glass jar clinks, though, is approximately one that I once brought to a near-supergroup few know was dangerously close to existing, consisting of moi, Travis Pashek, Bill Grasley, and Jason Bank (of Bron Sage, Twelves, and Threadmaker fame). What could’ve been! And still could be. But for now, I found too good a home for that chromatic sucker.
I loved the idea of giving this album some kind of cornerstone, some steady, heavy rhythm amid all the stylistic shifts and key changes and such. Trying to chase down a chord to switch to, as one would clearly assume would happen, proved almost comically fruitless—every time I tried, it felt like I was trying, and I’d laugh it off and just keep going in that same B-flat; anything else felt like it undermined the gravity or betrayed the potential mission. I had read in the 33 1/3 series’ (which is essentially what I’m writing about my own album across these blogs) book on Elvis Costello’s “Armed Forces” that “Big Boys” had been his attempt at writing a song in one key. I didn’t intend to actually meet that challenge, but the theme of the song was also well suited to a ceaseless key. (Adriano Celentano’s Italian-gibberish jam “Prisencolinensinainciusol” is another that achieves the feat.)
Like I wrote about “Untrue & Not Enough”, the stage felt finally set to make some kind of statements at this point in the album, which also coincided with the songs being increasingly skeletal as I set about finishing them. The themes of “Lust”, “Lady Circadia”, and “Midnight Diesel” are massive, and it was a trip to try and offer something original and interesting about them.
If all was ultra dandy having found love with Lady C, this one’s a reminder how “at the end of the day” it’s still just you, me—the individual, one’s sole thoughts, and above all, will. Pun intended: what drives you. Swagger in the face of nothingness. Active nihilism. I’ve referenced Nietzsche so many times throughout this album that I just ditch the pretense and start with a direct quote from the master existentialist, though Jung gets love, too, as does Shakespeare again—sometimes you’ve got to draw from mighty strengths and make it all mean something. Imposition, persistence, struggle, tactical monstrosity. Clearly more like beat poetry than any anthem, but I did want to make this a real-gone bit of post-post-Christian motivation for when only the psychotic survive. If the people on that foolhardy Titatnic-exploring submarine had had this song playing in there, they could’ve busted out and swam to shore.
Ohhh okay… sometimes I’m just having fun with words and vocals, like lifting from indecipherable Sly Stone-isms. But the wordplay on its own doesn’t add up to much unless it’s got some sort of ethos or virtue behind it.
Lastly, since the song begins with the quote from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (the subtitle for which influenced my album’s unofficial subtitle), I tried to have its ending resemble the dramatic music of Richard Strauss’ “Also Sprach Zarathustra”.
Lyrics
(Translated from Friedrich Nietzsche:)
O man! Take heed!
What saith deep midnight’s voice indeed?
(Approximately)
Ladies and gentlemen, now I’ll teach you
“Midnight Diesel”, by Matthew Day
I look in my backseat—still empty
We billow like banshees smokin’ wendigo teeth
(Puff puff pass)
Blast with a buzz, my stuff’s up to snuff
I top off n’ roll-a my rocks off the cuff
There goes the sunnn…
I keep on, with my Midnight Diesel, babe
I been up all night, but I’m lookin’ alright
Fine shape for roughin’ it,
Cruise through what I’m confronted with
Find a limit n’ forget it—
High beams n’ white-knuckle grip
If Hades takes the hindmost,
My road’s a blur of signposts—bygone
Thanks to midnight diesel,
Anti-freeze n’ Cecil B. Demille
The streets were damp n’ cinematic
I’m drivin’ with no music
Nothin’ good goes down post-midnight,
But this ain’t about good—evil, either
Initiate my engine with ether injection
If I need to
Whatever it takes, whatever it gives
Mileage and millimeters
No highlight reels
On these here theatre streets
Where the dark eats the details
And I devour midnight diesel
And prevail post-haste
With just a taste—just a measly drizzle
But I got tons: a gazillion glistenin’ gallons!
C’mon: let’s make another last run!
Roll through the tunnel!
Soon the sun’ll come up!
Rev like a devil!
Struggle is your gospel!
Ride the live coil!
Anything is possible!
…This, too.
The only way out is through.
To do, or not to do?
Ain’t but one A for that Q, Matthew
Man, screw the moon…
Shabby second-hand glare…
You who reject reality
And condemn the concrete,
Hem n’ haw like you’re writing a memoir
Last Man fantasy
Oh have fun on ze Autobahn
With your autopilot on!
So solemn, humble piety,
If I could be you…ugh…
To thee it means nada—
Price of beans in Guadalajara
To me it’s everything, the only thing,
My main squeeze—this is LOVE!
Just around midnight
Deeeez what?
Da-da-da-da Diesel
Ooh demoralized, distressed,
In the low-trust Midwest,
Yet onward I press,
The evening my easel
Annihilation assured,
Wrack my brain, frack my past
Tap my private reserves—
Swerve like a midflight eagle
Weave between warlocks,
Pursuin’ proverbial Fort Knox
Ain’t about arriving—
It’s becoming someone who can
And without that need to get through this,
I wouldn’t stand a chance
N’ ‘deed I do!
…With my midnight juice
I sip on, put the slip on oblivion
Tune up! Say the loud part loud!
No right route once the light’s out
No way but your way—hey nowwww
If this ain’t all in my head then where is it?
Grinnin’ like a butcher’s beagle
A boogle of weasels can’t
Cease this upheaval
Let the midnight diesel…
The video
A driving video made quite a bit of sense. I was originally thinking something real goony, along the lines of Rob Zombie’s “Dragula” video. I don’t quite remember when we decided against the green screen—this one came together super quickly, as in, Ollie and I got together three days before filming it. The deer monster was 100% his vision and construction. Sam and Ryan both helped immensely with the shoot.
My good friend Chris Quezada is the owner of that sweet car, a 1951 Chevrolet Styleline, affectionately known as Stella Diver. We filmed this in December, and I completely lucked out: Chris just happens to not winterize his car; virtually anyone else I would have asked would’ve had his car in storage that time of year. I had not thought about his stickers showing up on camera, but I loved how Muddy Udders made it in.
He also brought his stepson Andrew along, which was fortuitous. Not only did we end up needing every bit of help we could on the shoot, but Ryan, who donned the deer monster costume outside, turned out to be too huge to fit in the backseat while wearing it, so suddenly that was young Andrew’s job, and he aced it.
I was already on my way to Appleton for the shoot when I noticed I’d forgotten my switchblade. Go figure, Chris, classic car owner, happened to have one on him. Really blowing apart the stereotypes there, buddy! Really loved what that added, though.
Oddly enough we filmed this outside of Amano Print House and The Refuge, the two studios where the album was recorded. The very last scene we filmed at The Cold Shot. I bought us a bunch of tequila shots as props, not thinking about how free water would’ve looked identical. The bottle of Stella was necessary, though, as an Easter egg reference to Q’s wheels.
The first two videos for the album were obviously a bit more literal, or connected to the music, which is exactly what I’d wanted, and I loved how they turned out. Music videos always operate on a spectrum of being a straight representation of the music being performed, to something abstract and detached from the performance, and this one was clearly the latter. The fact that Ollie managed this absolute coolness for such a long song—while getting the projections for the release shows done and finishing his short film “Four White Owls” for the show opener—just makes him an all-time legend in my book and as impressively reliable as he is creative. Really pumped for his next projects; check out his website for more of his work.
——————————
And then there was one. Tune in next week for the grand finale of “Meta Dada”.
As always, the best way to experience the album is consecutively and on vinyl; records are available at Rock N’ Roll Land and Green Bay UFO Museum in GB, at Eroding Winds in Appleton, and online via my Bandcamp page. But hey, in this cultural economy? I’m glad you’re checking out the songs in any method.
If you haven’t heard the songs before, I recommend listening to them first before reading all the context and lyrics. For those who have heard the music, I hope these posts add mad magnificence to your “Meta Dada” experience.
We left off last week suggesting this album might actual start to stand for something—but what? I’ll tell ya what: falling for anything!
Movie Set: Ryan Eick, Ryley Crowe, Sam Farrell, Alex Drossart, Matty Day
Upright Bass, Electric Guitar: Matty Day
The session
Wow, 11 contributors on this one. Granted it’s got three different parts to it. The main part being the rockabilly part, which is what we tracked first. Ethan was of course the man for the drummin’ job. As I wrote in the blog about “Sunburn”, he was the outstanding drummer for The Blowtorches. Good rockabilly drummers are notoriously hard to find, but somehow this guy just gets it:
Speaking of The ‘Torches, we started this song after I’d finished my four-show run with them. Love how it timed out, what with my rockabilly chops being all tip-top.
It was also after we’d debuted Hang Ten as a live entity and we’d begun putting some cool work into the band. We all happened to be in the studio, possibly to record “Won’t Say It”, when we grabbed the “cut!” scene/section mid song with all five members.
The Dixieland jazz parts were one of the last things we did for the album, just on account of trying to get all the guys from Big Mouth & The Power Tool Horns together. Fittingly, if most uncomfortably, we happened to have those guys into the studio, with no air conditioning nor windows, on what was the most brutally hot, Bayou-like day of the summer. Here’s a clip of Marc, Steve, Bill, and Patrick tracking. Felt wild to have these pros contributing to this record. Sam had recorded Big Mouth before, so he wasn’t fazed.
Alex, every bit his Big Mouth bandmates’ musical peer, had guided Marc on what we were going for, and Marc arranged charts for the quartet. Here’s a clip of Alex doing his part.
The other aspect concerned all those wicked sounds woven into the tune. First, I did a pass or two just peppering it with vocal utterances—a Tony Joe White “uhhn!” here, a Roy Orbison “rowrrrr” there, numerous Bo Diddley “he-heee”s and the like—and Ethan did the same with the gaggle of percussion toys he’d brought.
Jaci, as on the album’s other coincidentally four-lettered title, was game to record a number of vocal snippets, trusting we’d put them to good use. I also grabbed a couple recordings of my dog Batman and cat Foxy, whom I forgot to credit in the liner notes, sadly. (She died peacefully at age 18 later that year.)
Then it was a matter of finding free sounds on the internet. In total I had ~30 sound effects, and mapped out a plan to place them throughout the song. Sam dropped them in, approximately at the intended places, and then for what would be the only time with my fingers personally “working the dials,” Sam showed me how to move the sound effects precisely where I wanted them. Ramshackling’s an art, I do declare.
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
If you’ve gotta ask, you might check your pulse! If the previous song was about declaring one’s own righteous liberation, this one answers that age-old query: “now what?” Well, whatever you want—with want being the ever-operative word.
Granted it’s up to each of us to cultivate ourselves and our character to decide what we really want, but there’s no greater problem to have than the task of answering that question. We’re bombarded with round-the-clock bullshit we never asked for, threatening to diminish if not drown out altogether our desires. This song celebrates your innate urges from being extinguished. This album, as obliquely stated out of the gate, is not concerned with Christian morality. Again, though, trolling Christians is a ridiculous pursuit. I’m glorifying lust as an exemplary human impulse, one as gloriously powerful as any when properly applied. Presently, it’s as misapplied societally as it is prayed away. Celibate Christians are banging at exactly the same rate as those who simply lust after another kudo at the office, another episode to binge, another social media dopamine rush, another pathetic porn or weakening video game session—basically all the stuff covered in Track 2. Man, is this the most political track? What can I say, but after 2,000 years of self-suppression and guilt, and amid modern, post-Christian celibacy, and really, in light of the present “hard-on” for artificial intelligence, it feels like a very good time to celebrate our humanity. Such is my case for lust!
Which is to say, that’s also my indulging in some revisionism. There’s no way all of that crossed my mind from the start. I simply came up with this while jamming on an upright bass lent by my friend Dan Kimpel, back in 2016. The Dixieland intro/outro came to me early on, too, perhaps from Gene Vincent’s “Bop Street”—which I totally wink to in the outro, with an additional dash of Alice Cooper’s “Alma Mater”. Then again I’d also done a strolling, descending intro on a rockabilly tune before, with Muddy Udders’ “Rage Red, Sorrow Blue”.
The main part is like a mix of Elvis’ “Treat Me Nice” and T. Rex’s “I Like to Boogie”. With the sound effects and everything, I wanted to lean into a post-modern feel; it’s so, so difficult to capture a real ‘50s vibe—Eddie Clendening is the king of that—so rather than try I wanted to take this one the other way, and capture the lively spirit of rockabilly rather than the sound. I’d really gotten into The Polecats for a while and loved how they used ‘80s production techniques to make something totally unique. Same with the aforementioned T. Rex track from 1976, which gave me the idea to add a super bouncy electric guitar part throughout the whole song. There’s also some fairly spare lead guitar work going on the whole time, giving it this groovy guitar gumbo vibe, especially with all the other sounds and percussion. I purposely kept the guitar solo short to keep it out of that more traditional rockabilly structure.
Lest you intellectuals believe yourselves above all this barbarism, note the lyrics laced with Latin, and Greco-Roman mythology.
Final note on the construction: the sound of the clapboard/slate for the “movie set scene” is in fact a real one. Sam nailed the timing of that!
“Lust” was actually nominated for a BAMMY Award, though it didn’t make it as a finalist.
Still thought that was rather cool, in light of the song not yet being streaming, and although I have a hunch who nominated it, I still appreciated it getting highlighted. Alex, Sam, and I all found it to be a highlight on the album, with Sam, who admits he doesn’t even really dig rockabilly, saying it might be his favorite.
Harmonies: Ryan Eick, Ryley Crowe, Sam Farrell, Alex Drossart
Keys: Alex Drossart
Electric Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Electric 12-String Guitar, Whistling: Matty Day
The session
While Ryley wasn’t featured on Side A of the album he continues to factor in big time on Side B. I wanted him to drum this one because I wasn’t quite sure how I wanted it to turn out—“‘60s” is a very general term, but I knew he could help take it to wherever it ought be taken.
That was kind of our approach through the whole song. Some touchstones would be older groups like The Zombies, The Kinks, and on the choruses, Milwaukee’s The Robbs, building up to where all five members of Hang Ten are singing together. Absurd comparison, but it’s not entirely unlike the members of CSNY singing on each other’s records.
While the more obvious touchstones were classic ‘60s sounds, there’s again T. Rex (the lighter stuff like “Electric Slim and the Factory Hen”), but also a big Brit-pop influence on this one, too, between The Smiths, Oasis (“sunsheeeine”), and Suede, and as I mentioned on Into The Music (about 56 minutes in), The Dukes of Stratosphear/XTC.
Other notes: Sam helped me to figure out how to do the arpeggios on his 12-string. That’s my mate Travis Pashek’s Gretsch once again in there, at least on the bridge; I needed that Bigsby to make it sound all weird. I succeeded in getting a wah-wah pedal into The Refuge once more. A line of Spanish adds to one additional foreign language being featured. Then at the end, I originally planned to do some whimsical vocal bits like at the end of this Smiths song, but the whistling was a nice tie back to the intro.
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
My first ever love song? Maybe. There have been a share about lost love, past love, heartbreak, loneliness, and frustration. Maybe “I’d Trade It All for You”, and even “Tingly Hot Chick” and “Date With a Dead Girl” off of “Bloody Murders”, but those are all increasingly askew. I guess it makes sense to be more able to write about love the more I got to know it. Here the protagonist practically deifies his love interest.
If this song isn’t quite as sure of itself as some of the other songs, though, I’m okay with that. Love songs should be a bit vulnerable, and by the end of it the song does find itself. Almost all the songs on this album feel that way to me, though.
Lyrics
I never knew it was sunny outside
I’d skid along broke-down assembly lines
Perpetual question marks,
Central Park was never my scene
Way too green
For me there’d be no one,
Not even illusion
The clouds and moon, routine
Suppressed in the shadows
Where everything bad grows
Then, on cue: my queen
Lady Circadia
Oh how I’d await ya
When finally you came to romantic rescue
I knew I’d need no other muse…
I thought my heart had been played out
I bid “adieu” to a barrage of doubt
Whatever I thought I used to want,
I needed you all along
Dawn and dusk
Love and trust
With you there’s no pity,
Just possibility
A rosy pinky swear
You lighten the abyss,
My luminous goddess
With gold cascading hair
Lady Circadia
My senses, I came to
Since I’ve obeyed ya, it’s been so good
(Shinin’ on, flyin’ on, and feelin’ brand new)
Lady Circadia
The stars coronate ya
The crestfallen hate ya, they haven’t a clue
(No they don’t, no they won’t)
To dim to sing another tune
Withering without her, fading in the shade
Blighting in the nighttime
I’m in retrograde and grim
Without your warm rhythm
Oh how you upgrade me,
Sweet Lady Circady
You’re my very sunshine
You get my to see right,
My vitamin D-light
Revealing, concealing
Heliocentric lipstick: I’m so optimistic!
Lady Circadia
A Literal Day Maker
By nurture, by nature,
Right down to the roots
(Cheerin’ up, clearin’ up, n’ no longer blue)
Lady Circadia
Eres mi Dulcinea,
My Freyja, my Phaedra, and my Peggy Sue
(Wakin’ up, makin’ love, from mornin’ ‘til noon)
Only gloom ‘til there was you…
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There we go, gang. Two tracks featuring Hang Ten and a boogle of others. Rounding out the three most traditionally structured songs of the album.
As for the other related BAMMY Award nominations, “Meta Dada” is a finalist for Album of the Year, and I’m still in the running for Artist of the Year. Gnarly, gnarly stuff and super touching.
Next week, the final of the three “Meta Dada” music videos!
As always, the best way to experience the album is on vinyl; records are available at Rock N’ Roll Land and Green Bay UFO Museum in GB, at Eroding Winds in Appleton, and online via my Bandcamp page. But hey, in this cultural economy? I’m glad you’re checking out the songs in any method.
If you haven’t heard the songs before, I recommend listening to them first before reading all the context and lyrics. For those who have heard the music, I hope these posts add magnificence to your “Meta Dada” experience!
Boldly barreling into Side B this week with two more compositions, starting with perhaps the most *striking* moment of the record.
Alex really made this sound super Dylan-esque, not just with his spot-on piano part but with suggesting what I did on bass. Not that there’s a ton to explicate on this one, but I talked about it on my Into The Music interview (about 30 minutes in) among a whole lot more.
Sam is ultimately the real star on this one, though, for taking it riotously over the top. I knew we needed the lightning strike sound, and I recorded my dog Batmanhowling, my then-two-year-old son crying, and as a nod to Hamlet my then-living rooster crowing, which I recorded just before I cut his head off (he’d started viciously attacking my kids; might have to write a blog on that). I hated that bird, almost as much as I hated killing him; in the cosmic scheme he’s been immortalized on this track, so call it a wash.
I had to step out of the studio at some point when Sam was whipping up this sonic masterpiece, and when I came back he and Alex were giddy with the results. They’d opted to lower the pitch and distort the crying to make it sound trippier and actually less disturbing. The other sounds—the twinkling bells, storm sounds, and volcano—were their inspired choices.
I want to say that was the only song we worked on that night. Tough one to follow!
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
Again, I tried to explain the inexplicable on Into The Music. But what developed a nickname of “Bob Dylan Dies and Goes to Hell” started out not quite as mischievous. Years earlier I’d come up with the lyrics out of some annoyance at generic Americana music, but we got to joking in the studio and it very quickly turned into Dylan parody. In whatever sense taste can be considered, believe it or not we did use some restraint, opting for the muffled sounds versus the poor vocalist yelling utterances like “Infidels!”
Tough to call anything audacious these days, but let’s just say I was overjoyed that one friend of mine in particular—who happens to work for a certain celebrity who happens to have created music which coincidentally resembles that which we’ve made here—was not offended by this piece.
The title is of course a Greco-Roman-centric play on Beethoven’s work. Give the gods their due.
Electric Guitar, Acoustic Guitar, Cigar Box Guitar: Matty Day
The session
First we set up Ryley to try and get the right drum groove for the verses—less a repeated part than a general vibe, somewhere between The Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride” and Aerosmith’s “Jaded”. Here’s a snippet from that session.
I knew Sam could nail the harmony on the choruses. He and Alex did the response lines (i.e. “it’s not the saaame”) during the verses. Sam also came up with the arpeggiated guitar part to add jangle to the choruses, and Alex added organ super tastefully.
You can see in the credits I added cigar box guitar. This was a gift from my late friend CJ Edwards. He had just gotten into building them, and he gave one to all three of us in Muddy Udders—on the condition that we play them on an album. That never happened with MU; the best I’d done was including the guitar in the stack of instruments on the back of The Priggs’ CD.
You’re supposed to play those with a slide, but I wanted to use the sitar-type sound it made when strummed open, so we just tuned it to the right key and added some effects.
For the actual slide part, that’s all Wild Bill. These sessions were never about shoehorning people in just for the sake of having them on the record. That being said, I loved getting to finally be on a song with Bill. We’ve been buds for quite a while and have certainly jammed live, but never on a recording. I knew I wanted him to play the slide lick during the verses, but it seemed kinda silly to not have him do much else. I want to say that gave me the idea to add a bridge, which was the right move, and I absolutely love Bill’s work on that part.
For the solo, I tried in futility a number of times to make it up on the spot, but ultimately had to put some time into it at home, using the Justin Hawkins technique of writing a solo just beyond one’s capabilities. Since “Sunburn” is an instrumental, this is arguably the first guitar solo on the album.
For the lead riff, I’ve got a wah-wah pedal on but stationarily, for a bit of, ya know, edge. I’m told this was the first time a wah-wah had been used in The Refuge. A true honor!
Uh, Matty, what’s the deal here
I showed a sketch of this song to Alex after The Priggs’ album, thinking it’d go toward perhaps our second album. The verses were inspired by trying to do an impression of the type of stuff Kevin Barnes was doing for of Montreal, where an unusual chord progression is tied together with a catchy vocal line.
Wish I had more insights than that, but like Rob correctly nailed, we were going for a Raspberries type of sound. It’s funny how aiming for something rather retro lands you somewhere less so; this tune sounds very ‘90s in a way I also appreciate, like Gin Blossoms or even “Tiny Music”-era STP.
In some ways this song and the next two are the three song-iest songs of the album. Surely anyone who’s made it through the previous seven tracks has earned that! The earlier Shakespeare reference in “Mild”—the line “will we ever get past the prologue?”—feels like it’s finally resolved. Whatever arc there is to this album, it seems like, after a pair of lyrically scant tunes, it’s just now ready to assert itself following this power-pop kiss-off.
Lyrics
Darlin’ if you’ve been untrue
Then I will have to set you free
It’s gonna be so hard on you
You’ll wonder
How you blew your shot with me
And how forgiving I can be
Since the day you winced away
I have been so happy
Now I’ve seen what lies beneath
Your sweet velvet wrapping
(It’s not the same)
Such a cryin’ crime to consent
To self-kidnapping
Couldn’t tell if the spells we’re under
Were overlapping
(It’s such a shame)
Darlin’ if you’ve been untrue
Then I will have to set you free
It’s gonna be so hard on you
You’ll wonder
How you blew your shot with me
And how forgiving I can be
Is not enough
It’s not enough for you to miss what we had
That’s not what love should be
(It’s a luxury!)
I spent so long singin’ swan songs
You nearly made me make a martyr out of me
I’m settin’ you free!
(You’ll wonder)
Trusted you to heal me through
Some pseudo-Tikkun Olam
I handed you my heart and soul
You just freaked n’ stole ‘em
(Got to reclaim!)
Darlin’ if you’ve been untrue
Then I will have to set you free
It’s gonna be so hard on you
You’ll wonder
How you blew your shot with me
And how forgiving I can be
Is not enough
To take you back—NO
The video
Ridley Tankersley did excellent work Hang Ten’s video for our song “Don’t Get Me Started”, so heck yeah I was wanting to work with him again. He had this great idea of getting us a soundstage from one of the buildings at Lawrence University, where he’s an alumnus, and Sam’s girlfriend works, so they figured it out. Admittedly I didn’t quite know what a soundstage meant, but it was perfect! I mean, we couldn’t drink there, but other than that.
I had the basic idea of doing a “band” video based on the context of the “Meta Dada” Soirees; with everything having been so abstract and dashing expectations for actual live music, I thought it’d be a cool, sort of grounding moment to have a representation of a band in the mix. Goes without saying I love n’ adore these dudes, so the chance to act like we were a band was a blast.
Couple other notes: 1. Sam had the idea for the giant pick, which I loved as a nod to my using a pick to play bass on this one, which I hadn’t done since “Stinky Hole Epidemic” for the first Muddy Udders album. 2. Alex is briefly seen playing the cigar box guitar in the video, too. Miss you, CJ.
I hadn’t given Ridley any direction beyond “you know, like a band video,” and I felt pretty bad about it, so I started to write what were some general suggestions but got super carried away, and ultimately gave him this huge document of time-coded shots and sequences for the entire video. Swung the pendulum from underguided to micromanaged. So I tried to walk it back and told him to take or primarily leave whatever ideas he wanted from it, but that dude seriously, mind-blowingly found a way to bring that mess to life, and do so way cooler than whatever I would’ve pictured.
Further, additional props for Ridley. Dude had total command of that soundstage, leaping across ladders, programming lights, scaling curtains and the like. Then he edited it masterfully and totally creatively. Man’s a gem. Ultra-talented musician, too. Thank you forever, Ridley!
And thank you for diving deeper on these tunes! We’re now two-thirds through. For some timeline context, at this point in recording we took a couple of months off; I had gigs with The Blowtorches and The Foamers? to study up on, and Hang Ten had our first shows to prepare for.
Just this morning my latest interview published—a phone chat with Rob at Into The Music. Rob came up with all these great questions, like asking what my humor influences are, and played four songs off “Meta Dada”, including some that have not yet been released via the venerable #MattyMonday series.
This is the first time I’ve gotten to chat about the songs since the record’s been out, and the whole thing was a ton of fun. Check ‘er on out!
I’ve been a fan of this show for quite a while and it was an honor to be on ‘er. Exact same goes for my recent interviews on Rooted Wisconsin and Fox Cities Core.
Local independent media is totally unique and vital. Hope you’ve been getting a kick out of the “Meta Dada” media dash, and longer term, please support, follow, and share these platforms.
Matthew t Day 