I’d been reading The Mists of Avalon — not the masterpiece I thought it was at 16, and certainly not appropriately sized to be hauling around on tour (it’s massive) — but it ended up keeping me great girly company. It's basically an epic re-telling of the King Arthur story, told from the perspective of the highly influential (and kind of crazy) Christian and Pagan women in his life. It’s got lots of coming and going of Goddesses and babies, and is heavy on the nature and ritual.
This is a demo of a song called "Wildlife." It's about the natural magic hidden in exquisitely painful chapters. And it incorporates the gold string idea that I’ve been writing about recently — celebrating sameness over uniqueness, and learning to shed (or handle being stripped of) one’s identity.
The studio version of "Wildlife" will be on the new New Boss record, Third Sister, due out later this year. On this demo, Thomas is playing guitar, as is Jordan Perry (who also does a lot of the writing and singing in the band), Nick Rubin is playing keys, and Scott Richie is playing bass. You'll have to buy the record to hear Parker Smith playing the drums. Paul wrote the badass last line of melody, recorded and coached all my parts, and did some demo-polishing for this Patreon release. Hope you like it.
Holding your cup in your lap,
you drove with your map to the
Stone ring. The sun was (still) down.
There was no one around.
You got out your notebook.
You looked at the ocean.
You felt half foolish and half understanding.
And then without thinking much,
You circled the circle.
You strung something up.
It felt like a whirlpool
But it was going up.
Is seeing yourself in everyone else.
Not what your known for
But the purpose and pain that make us the same.
The sun on the rock,
Bird shit on the top,
Many millennia before and after.
And then without turning your head,
You saw her coming,
Just when you thought
You'd come here for nothing.
The shadow was gone.
The sun had come up
Over the morning.
She was leaky & swarming.
She was breaking you open.
And then without moving her mouth,
The ending she told you.
Answering how she wanted to hold you.
And how, even now,
She was, without touching,
The field, the buzz, the rock, the mud.
She was the mother who loves you.