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REWRITE THE WORDS AGAIN

by Jordaan Mason & Their Orchestra

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dssociationdude
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dssociationdude So proud of everyone involved in the making of this beautiful album ♡ the lyrics for play the harp badly really touched me, I love the way the song reached out. As always, great work from you. So so so good. Favorite track: PLAY THE HARP BADLY.
baldemoto
baldemoto thumbnail
baldemoto Seeing the collective work of 24 different artists come together to make an album that is so touching and beautiful, so creative and unique in its compositions, arrangements, and instrumentations, and so *genuine*, is immensely satisfying. Congratulations to Jordaan, Marlene, and every single person who collaborated on and contributed to this album for creating a piece of art that stands on its own in what it has accomplished. Favorite track: REWRITE THE WORDS AGAIN.
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  • Streaming + Download

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    Includes a PDF of the lyric booklet with artwork by Anthony Cudahy and design by Tara Fillion.
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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Limited edition double LP in a standard wide jacket with a full colour 8 page booklet featuring all the lyrics and liners. Featuring artwork by Jordaan Mason and Anthony Cudahy. Designed by Tara Fillion.

    Includes unlimited streaming of REWRITE THE WORDS AGAIN via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 300 
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    CD version of the album in a gatefold sleeve with an 8 page lyric booklet. Artwork by Jordaan Mason and Anthony Cudahy. Design by Tara Fillion.

    Includes unlimited streaming of REWRITE THE WORDS AGAIN via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    edition of 300 
    Purchasable with gift card

      $20 CAD or more 

     

1.
I still recall every moment, the aura of the room after he’d left it The smell of him on my bedsheets, his after-work stench that he’d leave He had that messy smile that made the metaphors all suddenly make sense I thought we were in love, but he said "please stop naming it” Now the snot trails he left crying on my favourite shirt are dry and I lost it years after to another boy who tried and tried To seek out odds and ends and trainwrecks, he said he was unable To be so in love so young, so he left but I stayed grateful There’s a shape in the bed where your body used to be, I don’t know how else to describe it Maybe shake me violent, more violent, maybe leave the stove hot Maybe horses couldn’t pull me away even though they should have Have I let a metaphor become a crutch to keep me up When a scar is what gets carved into you so that you’ll remember next time As I dig for novels, vowels, verses, ways to be quiet without silence Replacing syllables with the history I used to know Night rearranged and the dreams came back, animal boy blue moved in and out of rooms Like he'd never left my head, like everything he ever said Had stayed with me in my body, echoing like a melody "Why do you analyze so much, doesn't your head ever stop?" The dreams are getting worse, they stay thick and heavy hours after You say words like love and laughter, words like holy and forever I wake up and I look through every line in every book I gravitate to the same page, it says: "Your body will never be familiar" As we scatter randomly, the details become dull and colourless But I know there were never enough warm blankets in her house So I slept under the coats, curled into a ball, waiting for morning Waiting for a warning but life gives you no warnings, things just change I took a bus to another town, she left for the coast to become a ghost Or at least that’s what she became to me, someone I only see when I go to sleep But even when it’s a bad dream, it’s always nice to see you, dear And so we sing and swing on tree branches, we have no patterns or lines Or time signatures, just vaseline and vinegar Kissing in the practice room, I remember a time when once you used to love me In the garden so briefly, "hey it's not the end of the world" No one said anything as we gathered again for a last sunrise We couldn't find words for goodbyes, some of us laughed some of us cried Distance is the same as time, it distorts as it defines I don't care if I'm remembering wrong but your eyes were never bluer then The earth hums with an ache that it carries, drowning out our tiny bodies While we beg for a meteor or a messenger or at least a word Or at least a way to get through the day, and the night too, even if they Are not the same for both of us, so we grasp and clutch to the ones we trust And let's get drunk on our favourite colours, waste our way through another summer Then go off on our separate ways, living separate lives again Maybe things just come and go, isn't that what started this (Do you think wounded people can help wounded people Maybe wounded people can’t help wounded people Maybe wounded people can help wounded people Maybe wounded people can’t help wounded people Maybe wounded people can help wounded people Maybe wounded people can't help wounded people Maybe its just like she said: "we're all the same different people")
2.
We were just two young queers He said: your music and my beer We met in the city and fell in love in the city While the water rose around us and we kissed and got dizzy He said I’m as happy As anyone with a conscience can be I felt like your song I felt warm, safe, veiled in Cohen and your naked arms Under soft blue light, past midnight again Though come the morning, the song was gone But I said I’m as happy As anyone with a conscience can be He read books in other languages I could hardly speak my own He stormed through the thickets, entering Then recite his favourite poem I would say well what does that mean to you And he would take off all his clothes We were as happy As anyone with a conscience can be Two homeless queers Finding home in each other's bodies
3.
I cut the cord Left leaves in all the books I read, of course And ran ragged screaming songs from your house I was without I was without You lost your head None of this makes sense now, you said You fell into the sky Like rain on rewind Still you’re on my mind You’ve been on my mind Your throat crackled like jam jars rattled A song sung somewhat sparse, but parsing it I Heard a whimper, a threat, and a quiver That spoke of a somewhere you’d rather be You said needn't you worry, I’ll be back in a hurry Went off like a light switch, I sang out in strained pitch That places are static, but there’ll be ghosts in the attic Regardless of which roof you’re under, my dear With a flint, you lit a fire, but it was fleeting And you flinched as my hands felt you, freezing Our brittle bodies huddled close for safekeeping Til our fervour fueled the fire we’d been needing Still, I cut the cord A fire’s not enough to keep me warm With us it’s always been another storm But you’re on my mind You’ve been on my mind
4.
What was the light like? Was there a colour you've begun to associate with the memory? Can we paint our nails that colour? My left hand went numb I went searching I found a set of keys I did not recognize You were trying to get me to speak louder I shouted something at you And you shouted something at me And the sun stopped going down
5.
I caught myself talking to myself I regret I regret opening my mouth You would do better To cut out the chatter Take your secrets to the grave to the grave to the grave It’s fine, they’ll never never never understand anyway But sometimes you have to play the harp badly Find something to dig into with your body What good’s a gut for if not for getting that gut feeling And what’s a throat for if not for sometimes screaming If I keep dwelling on what I've lost Will I lose will I lose what I have left Have I set a boundary Around my body A cage of grief and shame to keep people away It's not fine, it only causes more heartache So sometimes you have to play the harp badly Have your hurt heard so that it's out of your body Letting people in may even bring you some healing And even if not, then at least you'll be singing
6.
My head is like a spiderweb so full that it collapses Just swaying in the wind: a weird tangle of insect corpses I've lived my whole life in tiny rooms Filled with things that I've collected, attached to Each a memory or some heirloom Scrapbooks and photographs Drawings and scribble scratch A spoon from a diner from that week we drove to rescue her A dog collar Paper flowers Letters from old friends Maps and loose ends Lost plans Documents of how its been Just a clean hard reminder that it will never be again Oh well, oh when Another thread to keep pulling at My head is like a spiderweb so full that it collapses Just swaying in the wind: a weird tangle of insect corpses
7.
I watched his body Fall to the ground from The floor above me His head cracked Open and bleeding Helpless screaming Filled the air then Sirens blared The blood was pooling Even though they Arrived in minutes I Found out later He’d been declared Dead And it sat in my gut like a hot burning stone As I walked home I didn’t even know him Why can’t I stop thinking about it My family kept getting smaller I carried coffins with the men I didn’t cry until he did I tried to hold it in But you can only hold it in for so long And it sat in my gut like a hot burning stone Every night after work as I walked home People come in and out of my life like thunder
8.
AMSTERDAM 04:08
I got trapped at first The police came and laughed Swarms of bodies that I didn’t see But I felt them close to me You arrived and we got lost I felt safe even amongst all those walking hard-ons Was it because you were there (It was because you were there) Was it because walking circles we became swans She sat on the bridge Playing her accordion She asked "which one of you is the girl?" I was only too quick to answer: "me" She played us a song and as we walked away We blew her three kisses We went out and got lost I felt safe even amongst all those walking hard-ons Was it because you were there (It was because you were there) Was it because walking circles we became swans
9.
He taught me roads rivers run So I ran and I stayed gone for so long Sharing secrets doesn't undo the wrong but It started to feel like I belonged I sang of my sickness That’s what he called it Coz I didn't fit Coz there were bandages on my wrists He taught me map maybe make So I took off my clothes and jumped in the lake Where the wounds were started to ache And I felt so alive and so awake But he said Don't romanticize it And just like every other man I ever loved back then I let him say it I am I am still alive still alive, singing
10.
TWO OCEANS 03:29
There are two oceans on either side of me yes I touched them both yes I kept moving because Home where home how Home here home now I watched the trees change colour And the hair on me get thicker And I knew I knew nothing I woke up in the emergency room Not knowing where I was I tried to laugh it off I closed my eyes, put on a disguise Said I love you to All that I met who Didn’t just take off my clothes What does it mean to transform In the middle of a sentence To say no after yes To say yes after no It was there in the snow I fell in love again And once I said it I could not stop Nor did I want to My conscience said to put it away And forget that it happened Because you can’t keep it all so close Yes it was terrifying An ocean on each side I’m in the middle Failing you and myself Again and again So enough of this language in the book What I mean is that I miss you What I mean is I will never not
11.
What wild of ourselves we were Aching, archiving, arriving at a precipice With arms stretched out as if to reach Walking through the broken streets Counting cracks in the road, ambling aimless We lived in the glory of gold branches in the backyard Littering leaves along shortcuts which have been built over All we wanted then was the streets and the sound of it To hear mouths that sang full-throated and sunlit Searching for some proof that you and I and all of us could be coherent But still when you spoke, I heard gibberish We spray-paint manuscripts onto the bricks Catch our consciousness as it plays tricks on our sense of time We rhyme and rue, what can we do But rendezvous and follow through Wrap the trees in swimming pool plastic lining As if with trash we could make art to find our way in the dark Leave our own little mark so we’d be remembered Or at least we’d kill time in our small town every night While we dreamed of escape, as if it was our birthright Once I left I became transient, temporary Cautiously curious, as was customary Leaving blood in ballrooms, floor-sleeping Forgetting medication after I felt his weight on me Still loving everyone with all I could until I couldn’t anymore Mountains rising between us and tides pulled to the shore Now I’ve become an island with words rattling round And I still carry doubt from years of being unable to trust myself How do you sleep knowing that the times we’ve had Are gone for good, there’s no coming back, there’s no coming— I feel like I’ve been in this life forever And like I just arrived
12.
Could cuss, could not, could count my caesuras Bawling ballads, losing balance, but better off Lost in books as I look for my catachresis As if the words that I’m without are somehow a weakness You stay close, tuck your clarion into your nape Say: bibliophile, just stay a while, let’s lose our shape I ask you straight if you can explain the etymology Of words we use like familiar fruit to name our bodies What word would I use if I had to choose just one to say What word would I say if I had to explain this disarray I’ve looked through each page to find your name But it’s not in this text Nor is mine, nor is theirs; Not in any of the books I've read We must make some repairs Rewrite the words again Rewrite the words again A word means what it does until it doesn’t A word is a warm blanket, a cobweb, a low sunset A word is a worry, a warning, getting lost in a cul de sac A word is unheard, a word is unlearned It's living and it's loving and it's groping for warmth So stay close, suck smoke I know you’ve got some tenderness Buried there, underneath Like a word that doesn’t have meaning yet So we sulk and avoid, bury all of our coins And ask to be grown anew But it’s hard to change, it’s so hard to change It’s so hard to change, will you?
13.
I don't wanna make art about my trauma anymore I don't wanna make art about my trauma anymore But what else can I do if it helps me to get through So here I go again, another song from me to you I don't wanna make art about my trauma anymore I don't wanna make art about my trauma anymore Let's find pockets of pleasure, celebrate in them together Build a future that is better, can’t do nothing bout the past Let's find pockets of pleasure, celebrate in them together Build a future that is better, can’t do nothing bout the past

about

The body's all there is. It's our only field of contact with the world, the only matrix that can form experience, and we chafe against it so readily. We fumble for ourselves inside it. Few songwriters render the paradoxes, strangleholds, and joys of queer embodiment as luridly as Toronto-based musician Jordaan Mason. A DIY recording artist since high school, they have over the past two decades charted a long-simmering course of work that plunges into the world's pregnant hum, never shying from pain and never withholding pleasure.

Since releasing the watershed album Divorce Lawyers I Shaved My Head in 2009, Mason has cultivated a devoted following of listeners who have attached deeply to their fevered, idiosyncratic lyrics and bold, gut-lurching orchestrations. Shades of Neutral Milk Hotel, Songs: Ohia, and Xiu Xiu all color their electroacoustic drones. Fans often describe Divorce Lawyers as a life-changing record; it's the kind of music that helps you plumb the fullness of yourself in its ragged, seeping examinations of wounded intimacy. In the past decade, albums like 2015's the decline of stupid fucking western civilization and 2018's Earth to Ursa Major have furthered Mason's inquiries into complex questions of identity, trauma, alienation, and belonging.

Their newest album, the first credited to Jordaan Mason & Their Orchestra, Rewrite the Words Again gathers the themes and aesthetic strategies of Mason's prior discography into a newly clarified field. They wrote the songs that appear on the album over a period of two and a half years. "I started going through all these old pieces of writing that I had never finished. It grew from those, and then newer writing started getting added into it, responding to the old writing," they say. They sent demos of the new songs to their friend, the Berlin-based songwriter and musician Marlene Bellissimo. "She offered to be the Van Dyke Parks to my Joanna Newsom. I was like, how can I say no to that?" Mason says. "I love the arrangements on her records so much. We have a very similar aesthetic and set of sounds that we’re interested in."

From there, Mason and Bellissimo began reaching out to a far-flung network of collaborators to assemble their orchestra and bring the album into bloom. Long-term musical partners from the Horse Museum -- the band that played on Divorce Lawyers -- reappear here, as do musicians whose work was formative to Mason's own practice but whom they had never worked with directly. The New York-based songwriter Ryan Doyle sings on the duet "The City We Loved In," a glowing remembrance of young gay love inspired by the Magnetic Fields. Folk singer Diane Cluck lends her voice to the eruptive howl-along "Play the Harp Badly," while Sean Bonnette of AJJ sings harmony on the flowering acoustic number "Still Alive, Singing."

The song "Hot Burning Stone" holds the gravitational center of the album. "I wrestled with writing that song, because it's literally just a play-by-play of an event. It describes the moment of watching my neighbor commit suicide. It doesn’t even really talk about the feelings behind the moment," says Mason. "Rather than trying to explore the actual grief of it too much, it felt right to break it down into the image of what happened, because that’s what was burned into my brain. I just needed to describe it."

Rewrite the Words Again encircles the idea of loss, grief, and memory as shaping forces. The wakes of things can make us; forgetting and resurfacing can both be creative acts. "I started thinking a lot about the people that I’ve known over the years who I’ve had intense connections with that were temporary," Mason says. "There are all these people in your past who end up leaving an impact on you and forming who you become, even though they don’t get rolled into the fabric of your everyday life." Recordings of some of these people filter through the record. "Temporary/Wild," a meditation on the ephemerality of all experience, showcases a tape recording Mason made in high school of a close friend talking about the unknowable nature of death. "I’ve been thinking about death in the many forms that it takes," Mason says. "It’s not always someone dying; it’s also a relationship dying or falling apart, or people losing touch to the point where they basically become ghosts to each other."

Everyone carries a map of their experiences in their neurons, nerves, and blood vessels; the places where people have touched us still sting years after their vanishing. Rewrite the Words Again sounds out those craters. It digs down into memory's negative space and finds what's sprouting from the holes. Even amid the pieces we feel are missing from ourselves, there are places we can grasp hold of each other. Our emptinesses can be resonating chambers. They can give us the space we need to share sound. Or, as Mason sings on "Play the Harp Badly": "Letting people in may even bring you some healing / And even if not, then at least you'll be singing."—Sasha Geffen

credits

released October 21, 2022

Jordaan Mason - vocals / words, piano, electric piano, accordion, classical guitar, electric guitar, synth, tongue drum, singing saw, percussion, tapes / field recordings, cover art

& Their Orchestra:

Dee Addario - vocals (13)
Sarah Ayton - vocals (13)
Chrissy Barnacle - vocals (13)
Marlene Bellissimo - vocals (1, 4, 9, 12, 13), piano, violin, viola, electric guitar, acoustic guitar, organ, synth, glockenspiel, omnichord, dulcimer, autoharp, drum machine, percussion
Sean Bonnette - vocals (9, 13)
Diane Cluck - vocals (5)
Brett Copeland - tuba
Ryan Doyle - vocals (2)
Cory Harper-Latkovich - cello
Kevin Harris - bassoon
Sylvia Haynes - vocals (13), upright bass, electric bass, bowed glockenspiel
Laura Hundert - clarinet
Noraa Kaplan - vocals (13)
Janel Martinez - vocals (13)
Chad Matheny - vocals (5), drums / percussion
Never Angeline North - vocals (13)
Zack Osinski - flute
Eric Padget - trumpet, french horn, cornet, belgian saxhorn, flugelhorn, mellotron, moog, harmonica
Tom Pagonis - trombone
Nick Piato - trumpet
Shelby Sifers - vocals (13)
Jorge Ivan Velez - vocals (13)
Cassie Watson Francillon - harp

All songs written by Jordaan Mason except "Two Oceans," which was written by Jordaan Mason (vocals/words) and Marlene Bellissimo (piano/cello)
Sound design and arrangements by Marlene Bellissimo, with additional arrangements written by Jordaan Mason (1, 11, 12), Kevin Harris (1, 7), Eric Padget (1, 3, 6, 13), Sylvia Haynes (1, 2, 3, 7, 9, 12, 13), Cassie Watson Francillon (5), and Diane Cluck (5)
Produced/mixed/mastered by Marlene Bellissimo

"We're all the same different people" was said by Janel Martinez
"Your body will never be familiar" is a quote from Leonard Cohen's book "The Favourite Game"
The lyrics to "Two Oceans" are an abridged adaptation of a poem by Jordaan called "Poem for Always Missing People," which was included in the now out of print collection "Swimming Alone in the Backyard"

Rewrite The Words Again was written and recorded between 2018-2022 as a long distance project in our home studios throughout Canada, the US, the UK, Germany, and Australia, with drum recording taking place at Donau115 in Berlin

Collage on album cover made by Jordaan Mason using old photographs they took
Back cover painting “Rest (Past)” by Anthony Cudahy. Photo by A. Mole. Courtesy of the artist and Semiose, Paris
Album design by Tara Fillion

This album is dedicated to the Oh! Map family, past present future, forever apart and always together

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts

Unelectric Arts 2022

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jordaan mason Toronto, Ontario

a confused human being singing songs about being a confused human being

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