Moss Art

Walking in the woods behind the Roepaen venue, I found this old, metal storage trailer covered in various types of moss & lichen that had created these painting like colors & patterns.

Roepaen Festival

We left on a foggy morning and traveled to Ottersum to play the Roepaen Festival. This takes place in an old monastery that has been converted into a venue. It is a beautiful place both inside and out and our show there was definitely one of the best of the tour.

3 Hats and the Mysteriously Moving Captain

What stories could he tell?

Let's Get Lost

We played at this very cool club in the north called Porgy & Bess. It was ghostly to play on a stage that had been graced by Chet Baker and more.

OBA Radio Show in Amsterdam with band (Adam Roach,Joeren van Niele & Arthur Brenkman)

Amsterdam in the morning.

Leaving Austin at sunset.

Tour

The tour of Holland & the UK was fantastic. Great gigs, amazing food, big hearted people and some truly stunning scenery.
I was unable to post pics of the tour on a day to day basis as it was happening, so I will periodically post some highlights over the next few weeks. A big thank you to all the venues and everyone who came out to the shows! (Special thanks to Sandra & Luciano at Lucky Dice Music and Laura at ComboPlate booking.)

"Receive"

Well I recently finished recording a new cd. This was a bit of a "bedroom affair" having recorded 5 of the 7 songs at home. Not only are many of the songs quieter in mood and tone, the process was laid back as well, out of neccessity more than anything. Stealing bits of time late into the night after everyone was asleep and having to sing a bit quiter as a result, lent an intimacy to the overall vibe only glimpsed at on previous records. I have often recorded demos that I enjoyed more than the songs that ended up fully produced on an album. So I wanted to capture something that had that kind of live and raw sensibility. Working alone (for 5 of the tracks) and not being in a professional studio, I didn't have to work too hard to acheive this. Of course there were also moments when recording that I could here ABBA bleeding into the headphones and then I realized that my daughters were blaring it in the living room.
I must say that I will always prefer a live drummer, but for this little project it was fun to experiment with writing to loops
and playing with minimal percussion like bicycle spokes and boot taps. And though I consider myself more of a songwriter than a guitar player and know well my place in the chain, i enjoyed the challenge of tackling the guitar solos on my own. The cover is a loose drawing of a cup i drew sometime ago, which seemed to fit the tone of the songs as well.
Now, I must give a huge nod of appreciation to producer Craig Ross (Shearwater,Patty Griffin) who helped with two of the tracks. Though scheduling conflicts prevented us from completing the entire album together, i found working with him incredibly inspiring and enlightening and he played a huge part in my approach and direction to the songs.

(This will be a limited hard copy release and availavble first on my upcoming European tour. After that it will be available on line.)

"My choice early in life was either to be a piano player
in a whorehouse or a politician.
And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference.
I, for one, believe the piano player job to be
much more honorable than current politicians."
- Harry Truman

nine ounces of strychnine

"my wife fed me nine ounces of strychnine. didn't kill me but it ate up part of my brain. they say i'm certified nuts. they keep lockin' me up and lettin' me out. i ain't supposed to be on the streets. they're afraid i'll flip out and kill somebody. but i ain't no worry to nobody....hey...do you know where paula abdul lives?"

(i copied this down after hearing it from a street person just released from oregon state penitentiary on bus #180 hollywood,ca. in 1992)

addendum: it is now 16 years later and i just heard that a man took his own life in front of paula abduls house. what is it with her and the mentally unstable?

curious

today
i watched a man
walking down the street
pushing his cane
in a wheelchair

something like desire

though i have experienced the flutter and nerve of the first corsage
i miss the wallflower stare of dance card days
i recall a late night walk along dark water and reflected moon
silent swans nesting in the grass
she had invited me so as not to be alone
nothing more
nothing less
to her friends i was an oddity from another continent
the first orange to be seen on the mainland
a strange tree climbing beast
or native warrior with foreign tongue
she too felt out of place among them
this was her way of taking comfort in the isolation
we both knew this engagement would carry no further than this one night
still the tenderness was genuine
our open exchange with one another both sweet and awkward
the touch of our fingertips as we held hands
though born of obligation
was no less exciting
and carried with it a rising warmth and electricity
the first and final kiss of the night
the scarlet seal with wax and ring
took our breath for just a moment
resembling briefly
something like desire

NH

The Fall

I enjoyed seeing the birds flying out of the man's mouth. "I opened up my mouth to speak, six black birds flew out of me."

No Mere Prank

i have been walking around with you in my mind for the last 36 hours
little marble in a can
the disappointment hangs like smoke
and there is no reason that i should care
but i do
most everyone in this room thinks that they are so damn cool
myself included i suppose
but we look like little children in our fathers clothes
the swagger and stare
the hitch and glide
i've no use for it
blue lights
candles
concrete
and skin
i think i understand now why andy kaufman
took his audience out for milk and cookies
it was much more than an exercise in comic absurdity
it was no mere prank
it was a great equalizer
he knew the desire of even the hardest heart
and in that moment
by throwing his arm around the shoulder of his world
he allowed us all to relax a little
and be who we were
not who we thought we wanted to be

NH

Joe Henry "God Only Knows"

Details of a "pressed painting" from a series in the works.

The Rising of Everything

my six year old
asks her mother
mom, when you get a kiss on the lips
does it go straight down to your heart
and suddenly
i am all too aware
of the cynism,sarcasm and contempt
that far too often
muddies the lens
thru which i view this world
in her sing song voice
she asks for ice cream after dinner
in the background
NPR speaks of carbombs in market squares
the rising of everything
tempers and temperatures
food and fuel
she knows of none of these things really
but the harsh realities of this world
are beginning to reveal themselves to her
it is difficult to witness
but inevitable
if not necessary
like the first scuff on a new white shoe
it is a daily lesson to be learned
to feel with innocence
to believe that yes
a kiss on the lips
truly does go
straight down to the heart

NH

"The Faithful" (mixed media)

"The Good Red Road" (oil on wood)

105 in the Shade

the rattle and skid
of a can being kicked down the street
has no room for echo in this heat
somehow a dove with electric blue eyeshadow
has managed to make it's way to the seeded feeder
while a male lights beside her hoping to generate
a little heat and seed of his own
my beer is full of flies
drunk and drowning
and the sunflowers have all wilted
under the wrath of their namesake
my youngest
newly two
squeals and splashes in six inches of water
and yet again
i realize that i have alot to learn from her


NH

there is nothing in this room
save the sound
of ice
slowly melting
in a glass

Amsterdam

it is hard to imagine
that a mere seventy years ago
these streets were filled
with the tremble and sorrow
of guns, tanks and boots
this elegant antiquity
of stone, brick and morter
now plastered with placards
for ipod and prada
techno kids
dressed for space
swarm to the house beats and blips
with swimming eyes and sweating lips
eons away from the grounded ease
of accordian and violin
still
romance thrives
in each spoke
of every bike
along each canal

NH

The Weeping Meadow

Music and stills from the film by Theo Angelopoulos. I watched it the other night and these images have been haunting me since. A stunningly beautiful film. It is Greek Tragedy for sure and very slow paced, but I welcome that in the midst of these mad rush, non stop, sound bite, instant gratification, ever grinding days. And too, I am, of course, a sucker for melancholy.

The Cheap Sweet Stuff

you can always find the junkies, whores, cops and poets
at the donut shop
they've all got a weakness for the cheap, sweet stuff
sucking the sugar off their thumb and forefingers
white powder in the corner of their mouths
eyes rolling in the back of their heads
as the eyelids slowly drop closed
staying up too late
working too many hours
under strenuous conditions
all providing a service
all but the junkies that is
the donut shop owners are almost always korean
with some gaudy little shrine over the register
while some fruity incense burns and blends
with the smell of fried dough and stale smoke
a 70's cop show flickers on the black and white t.v
with tinfoil and a coat hanger
like some alien stork fallen from the sky
they fled their country for this
a better life
their little slice of the pie
and each of us under these buzzing fluorescent lights
are taking some kind of comfort in the others presence
all milling about in the american dream

NH

Bus #180

a homeless man on a bus
said to me
"you walkin around in a goldmine and you the only one ain't got any gold"
"son, in this life you push the button for the floor you wanna get off on"
i must remember that
sometimes it's hard to see the beauty
when you're standing right there in it

NH

"Primitive Graces" (installation with salt crystals,metal filings,cinders,rusted bolts,twigs,dirt clod,quail eggs and colored thread)

Bordertown

tejano music spilling out of a busted up am
killing time desert style
cracked lips
cotton mouth
bloodshot eyes bleeding hate and mistrust
cold cerveza sits sweating in the sun
others waiting patient in a red igloo
oil stained and beat to hell
pickup bed is loaded with talismans and psalms
knotted rope, rusted gears, rotting hay and a coyote carcass
a brindled pit bull with a missing ear rolls in the dirt
a child of three
half naked and filthy
straddles the dog and hops on it's belly
all eyes follow the car and our white faces in it
we are not welcome here now
there is no reason we should be

NH

Untitled (ink and acrylic on paper)

Raised Red Flags

i wake this morning with someone else's voice
not even the lone song of the unseen bird
in green and gray sky can shake it loose
i hear the crunch of gravel under foot
as i walk past silver mailboxes
raised red flags
signal communication
waiting in dark confines
there is kudzu and bee
water and vine
the rain and the rail
i search for my fathers footprints
but the path has been swept clean and i am left to travel
by memory or chance
a tiny quiet pushes up and out of my eyes
clouding each step
redemptive and cleansing

NH

"Tooth & Nail" (detail) mixed media

"The Order of Things" (detail) mixed media

Welcome!

Hello and Welcome to The Rain & The Rail!   I must tell you that it is with my collar turned up and my hat down low that I am venturing out into this world of blogging. So I have decided to use this as a forum for sharing some of the past and current paintings, poems and various projects I have been working on other than music.

I hope you enjoy it and will return from time to time. 

Nathan Hamilton