Search - Paul Manousos :: C'mon C'mon

set the dial to 2009... my head was swimming with scattered words and melodies as it always does when it's time for me to work. with these fragments and an open heart i set off down the path that would, roughly one year later, become this record. i knew i wanted to make an album that was more primal, that would let the me that is troubadour and madman get some air. i started pulling the stirrings of melodies off the strings of my warhorse d45 down in the basement room and ended up howling, stomping and grooving in a way i haven't felt i was true to since i last stood on the corner of governor nichols street with way more desire on me than my glass would hold. 4 songs down, but the beast was unwieldily. in a not-quite-simple twist of fate i came across my dandelion sitting in the morning sun finally willing to let her words spill onto my notebooks. there we were, and then endymion havisham became. in that guise we conjured the rest. hidden treasure. a few days into the session, i was walking down a seattle, washington hallway towards a hot cup of coffee and a cold turkey sandwich, a rather mundane pursuit for a man feeling like freight train needing to be unloaded while moving, no time to stop. at least i sought my sandwich where someone could help me get that done. steve fisk turned up with a stick, a sock and some duct tape with which to macgyver up a wand that when combined with a suitcase of dreams, a devil's-dress blue exercise ball, and a lowly oven rack would provide me the goods to shake my world. and shake it we did. a 12 string balzooki guitar is plastic, and if not played with the proper reverence may do permanent damage to the ears of children and the functioning insane. i tuned and tuned and tuned again until "just so" was captured and then released at the request of a beguiling string arrangement and a saucy Hammond M1 solo i met along the way. keyboard playing was never more sublime than when steve was at it, hammering out sounds that would so gracefully appear then hide themselves away like perfect criminals. thanks man. a two day session with the 'crew in a wee albany, california studio netted some choice extras: fuzzy bass, grooving drums and electric tremelo-y guitars. yeah, you killed it good. of course you did. these are things my dreams are made of c'mon, c'mon.