The Alexander Solution

Created (Born) in 1969 in Southern California: The Alexander Solution is one man, Timothy Michael Earwood . I'm here (or there, on your screen) to present my art to the electronic domain of MySpace (or to you, there...on your screen).
On this site, you'll find my music and poetry .
If you're around San Francisco you'll find me. I'll be the guy wearing a green or brown t-shirt (or a black and blue bowler, if you stop by the Embarcadero for a movie).
The Page Screams Out
I wrote this song last summer, and recorded it quickly. Once I had a rough draft of how I wanted it to sound, I felt secure enough to shelve it. I don't know why but I imagine the reason had to do with my temporary living situation.
I was living about six blocks from the beach at the time, but was subletting a place for only two months (two short months), and I started thinking more about how people perceived each other in the light of expectations and diappointments. We never REALLY realize what's happening in others lives, and while we're caught up in our own world view, it really begins to look bleak when you realize that no one is paying attention to the things that you're saying.
So, six months later, I recorded it again (winter was perfect). I was staying at a place in Alameda (for three months), and the drab, breezy christmas season was perfect to bring out the emotion in the song. Now, a few months later, it's mixed down and ready to play.
Undefined Absence
The poet starts, "Sometimes we feel that a moment is fleeting..." and at this point, I command you to breathe. Right now...if you're listening to the poem...breathe...the music dances slowly to create a current to allow you to trance with the pulse.
This poem is probably the most personal that has been recorded, and it definitely wasn't designed the way you hear it now. But this is how it came together. It was a journey recording this, but after I got to listen to it, even the first time, I was speechless, and by the time it was over, I felt very different. What is that? You tell me. I mean, really, YOU tell ME (when you're done)! Because honestly, I wasn't prepared to hear the finished result the way it came out of my speakers. If I didn't witness the making, I would have doubted that I consciously created it.
As my guitar gently laments (towards the middle of the track), the poet disappears. Not really, he's there listening to another poem, with potential to scream its message, instead choosing to subdue, the guitar rants and raves to the poet, then they converse for a bit until the poets sings once again before the lights go down and then out as the poet reflects on existence and the illusion of permanence.
Wry
"Wry" reminds that true labels are seen in yesteryear, and the ones that we create today are just a facade for the masses to mimic.
We wonder who we are...consistently...constantly...so much to the point that we can't recognize who we are most of the time, and sometimes what we're even doing, lest trying to accomplish.
We waste so much time trying to define who we THINK we are. We spend so much time trying to get other people to recognize us. The ones who are beautiful are tortured. And the media frenzied many are lost. Not ugly though, but not really beautiful.
Are we to change? What is change? How is change? We long to be different, but to become DIFFERENT from who we are, we must have some IDEA of who we are.
Violence Falls
After migrating to the San Francisco Bay Area, I found a place of recreation at Sharon Meadow in the massive Golden Gate Park. A meadow where all the beautiful people come to celebrate life with their creation of music, dance, circus, and consort. Being surrounded by the lush forest makes one forget about the city outside the walls of trees. Articulated to the meadow by a walkway is a hill, known on tourist maps as Hippy Hill, which has been since the 60's.
The beauty was partially erased on one day when socio-economics reared it's ugly head diguised as hate. Apparently, there was a dispute over territory of where one population didn't appreciate the sale of herb by the other population. The solution would rely in an old-fashioned fist fight; 3-on-3; one at a time.
On another occasion, a lost soul disguised as a drunk was kicked in the head because of his upbringing that taught him to pretend to hate. "Violence Falls" was the result of these, and other, incidents.
About the other songs: I have been rotating other songs in and out of the player that is from the Curses & Invocations work. It's essential that you provide feedback because when the final project is done, then I'm able to willingly compromise my vision based on what YOU say. It really does matter how my vision is interpreted by you. So, to provide a bit about the current tracks...
Make it Happen
"Make it Happen" was written with guidance and influence of the west shore in San Francisco at Ocean Beach. At dusk, it becomes a magical place where the tides are changing, and the natural music of the many patterns of sound waves created by the sound of water mingling with the natural sediment of the beaches and rivers from around the world. One only has to listen to hear the beauty of natural soundscapes that are free to us everyday of our lives.
A Migration of lost souls slowly invade the once tourist ridden edge of the world carrying ice chests, firewood, drums, guitars, spirit, with one thing in common: to celebrate being here today. Not yesterday...or tomorrow, for one is gone forever except for the residue of essence, and the other may never come.
As we look around today analyzing our social-cultural or political-economic systems, we should consistently remind ourselves that's it's up to us, the beautiful people, to continue to feed the fires of our souls so that the reciprocal dynamics continue to keep us inspired to be. Nothing can be accomplished without our beauty, and nothing would EVER matter if the fire was ever extinguished.
"Hello. Stopping in. Saying hello. Come over for some coffee (or wine). Put the light in our veins. The fun feels fine."
(to be continued)