Music

I make sound, record it, and put it here for your consumption.

Roots (2:14min)

This one’s part of the ten songs I worked on for the RPM (Record Production Month) Challenge here in NH. I improvised this song entirely so it’s still a work in progress. Didn’t finish the RPM album but got the beginnings of some songs so it was worth it.

Wires of Webster (Mitchell) (4:00min)

When you sang about
Webster’s Last Stand
I thought you were
talking about the language

I thought you would let me in
I was right
I was right

The wiring was wrapped in cloth
It seemed unsafe
But what did I know

Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb!

Fruit’s books
Your amps
Frankie’s hotplate
And Vibrochamps
A window fell out
On the sidewalk today
The hole’s filled with a mattress
And no one got hurt

One door, one shelf
Room on the floor for the old elevator shaft
One place in this town
Where we all
Can leave our crap
And play our songs…

Dirge In D Major (Mitchell/O'Hagin) (2:04min)

Here’s a tune my friend Patrick and I wrote the other night. Recorded in my living room, after a snowstorm. I’m playing the accordion, Patrick’s on the Violin.

Hey Faust! (1:46min)

hey Faust!
hey thanks!
get cracked
pepper and napkins

it’s your place
wash some plates
take your time
this is hot!

this perfect food
only my true friends
will enjoy this with me…

Last Man Standing (2:00min)

giant robots walk the earth
smoke is pouring from the ground
salamander flipping switches for the high commander
roaring cyclops staggers blind
smashing sheep upon the walls
the boulder’s wake will cast your bark
beyond the echoes of your laughter

last man standing
look into the past there’s nothing
look into the night this vacuum
step into the void we’ll greet you
look into the night not another man standing

vast concussions split the night
make your peace with missing god
the bursting voice of ancient eggs
the marbled tongue of ancient voice
the father’s curse upon the mother’s vault
of broken arms
and all the falling columns
of the last collapse of all creation

this is the time
for fang and fur are absent
when talking’s done and all have known

Booking & Press: jmitchell@lonesomegallery.com

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