These pieces [songs] are all related to what people do,
Or can do.
This work is NOT dedicated to knowing or understanding,
But, instead, the album is dedicated to the honest attempt to do so.
This is about Questions.
Questions feed on the things that are unknown (or unknowable?) to us.
They are ideas that motivate us to act…
not necessarily without confidence, but without certainty or closure.
They thrive the longest, when they are at their most peculiar or distant.
They are more complex when they are incomplete,
Their freedom is displayed only when they remain open, engaging and somewhat unfamiliar.
Questions live to inspire our actions,
but are empowered by our entanglement and distraction by them.
In our every attempt toward understanding, they drive us through loops and changes,
ensnare us with seemingly endless hallways of child-like wonderment,
send us on wild fucking goose chases.
The lives of questions are at the height of their usefulness,
when they are still youthful enough to make so little sense,
as to beg for an answer.
Yet not old enough to make so much sense,
that they cease being Questions.
On the one hand, the Questions (on this album) search for answers,
But they know full well that an answer is like a death sentence to the inspiring journey
and daunting mystery that a healthy question can provide.
And so they live, brightly,
In those mysteriously blissful moments,
Before a villainous answer comes along,
To murder the openly blazing flame
that a question with a wide-open future offers us.
These Questions act heroic, coated in a light fog of mystery.
When they are moving,
from one Question to the next,
Weaving in and out of each other,
Mixing, reorganizing, growing and mingling,
(Sometimes in widely recognized patterns, and sometimes in unique – or even uncomfortable – shapes)
They flourish and flounder, gathering experience, habits, depth of character and age.
Still, always remaining pointed toward their abstract and momentarily unreachable destiny.
----The change from a Question into an Answer
is similar to a caterpillar into a butterfly,
But also with many differences.
The Question mark begins with wings...
It contains within itself the self-negation of a period, but only here it is just a dot, overshadowed by its whirling motion.
The final period gains its fury by severing itself from the action lines of the Question mark.
While the anxiety, hunger or longing of a Question may be over, and a simple perfection has triumphed over what would remain forever feral or unfinished,
The birth of the answer is also a conscious mutilation .. . and then discarding . . . of the Question
in defense of the murderer,
a Question would never ask you to give up to ignorance,
Nor would it beg for you to settle on a premature or easy goodbye.
They are noble, for if they face away from their inevitable doom, they risk becoming nothing but a passing thought or disinterested acknowledgment.
Therefore a question has no choice but to humbly exist only to drive intentionally into a much more controllable demise.