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Did I wait too long to finish this upcoming album? Would a song about a Syrian bombardment in 2016, or one about Ellicott City rebuilding from back-to-back environmental disasters in 2016/2018 be irrelevant? Of course not. Survival is a cycle. Love is universal. And, as my favorite stolen line reminds: A revolution's just a circle after all. It turns out I was asking the wrong question. It's not are these still world-worthy songs, but will the world calm just long enough to let them through?

On December 8, a week and a half before my album fundraiser went live, the Assad regime finally collapsed in a Syrian civil war raging since 2011. And as for ecological disasters, it's been an illuminating time. The trouble with illumination is that you do not get to choose the source of the light. And sometimes the glow comes off a wildfire. 

Today's 2-Minute Tale
(Adapted from the account of David Peters - Oak House Recording, Altadena, CA)

From doomsday enthusiasts to casual catastrophists, it’s a question we all ask ourselves: What would I grab from a house on fire? 

I've never been particularly sentimental, and I recently realized why. Forgetful folks are the most emotional collectors I know, passionate documenters who must safeguard their memories externally. For better or worse, my memory is long and self contained, my skull a turtle shell wallpapered with photographs and love letters, carried with me wherever I go. 

Family safe? No pets. It’s my purse, my phone, and Mike Wazowski (the external hard drive containing almost all my art that was and may be). I'd shed a tear for the shelf of spiral notebooks as I passed them by. Too many. Too heavy. If all the people are safe, then the only thing worth my life might be my life's work. 

Oak House Recording was two songs into mixing my album, "Panic Room With A View," when David Peters could see the fire on the hillside. Kids safely evacuated, David looked around his Altadena studio, a curated collection of 30 years, and started answering the question.

Microphones. Quick, small, irreplaceable. The older tube Neumanns, and the custom-built 47-style mic he likes better. A guitar he had no intention of keeping might be a resource valuable enough to sell off and fund an extended hotel stay if necessary. What calls out to the heart? Of all the remaining instruments, it was his mother's nylon string Yamaha he chose for himself, the one that rang out his very first chord. And after acknowledging the impossible labyrinth of racks and patch bays, David removed only a single piece from the mixing desk: a 1960s-era Universal Audio 175B tube compressor. When he first acquired it, he felt like he had “arrived.” And with that, he departed. 

Altadena's other “middle-aged music dads” were out on the street with what they could save of their amp and guitar collections, backlit by their burning homes. David always thought he would've been among them, but do any of us know who we really are before that’s tested?

When morning came, his brother-in-law’s house was ash (gofundme). Historic Black communities with 80% homeownership rates (nearly double the national average) were wiped out (list to assist). Miraculously, David’s home/studio remained (without power, gas, or potable water), and now required defending from everything from embers to looters. All around, small fires smoldered in ruins, taking flight and catching houses initially spared. Up on the roof, David cut fallen tree limbs with a saw plugged into a car inverter, hastily clearing dry debris. Meanwhile, in the chilly house, some amount of precious power was dedicated to keeping his daughter’s fish, a tetra called Tuna (better known as “Fishy”), in warm water. 
 

National Guard checkpoints closed opportunists out, and homeowners in. Among those friends trapped within and without, a texting network of unwatched back alleys and supply routes emerged. But when leaving at all became too risky, resupply runs turned into handoffs over a Berlin Wall of caution tape. All to the soundtrack of sporadic, violent popcorn; the delayed catching of propane tanks and cars exploding all around. 

12 days after the Eaton fire began, David’s power came back on yesterday. But when you listen to him recount the ordeal you get the sense that his light never really went out.

“You can get down really fast … This stuff happens. I’m not suggesting you ignore hard things … but you don’t want to focus on the negative because it drains you. And when it drains you … you can’t help yourself and you certainly can’t help others. Keep what’s still beautiful in perspective; you become far more able to make things better.” 

* * *

The world is on fire, and I have a feeling I will need to return to David's words often. You can view his entire detailed account here on his YouTube channel.
 

Needless to say, we are delayed from such comparatively trivial concerns as deciding between files with names like MIXfinal, mixfinal1, mixFINAL2a. We are a team, and we finish together when WE finish together. In the meantime, producer Joel, myself, and an army of musicians are knocking out final arrangements and tracking (Flute! Harp?! Six backing vocalists!!!). I am so grateful my successful fundraiser allows me to be this calm about it all. 

We wait, for the right things. And the right things remain relevant. 

Speaking of, we'll be celebrating my ilyAIMY bandmate Rob's 50th birthday with an afternoon show February 8, and releasing three songs in time for that special Bandcamp Friday (when the company will donate its revenue share to California fire victims). 

CLICK HERE 
for a complete list of other upcoming shows, which include: 
Acacia Sears' album release (1/24), Ayreheart (2/23 & 2/24), a house concert (2/22), and more Simon & Garfunkel tributes (2/28 & 3/1).

 
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