Friends,

I am so happy to announce that Wooden Rings has completed the recording, mixing, and mastering phase of our first full-length record, Heliocentric. We could not have done it without the never-ending support, care, and love of our close friends and family. We also had 50 amazing donors who chipped in to press our dreams into reality (thank you). The next steps include sending the masters and artwork to a record printing company that will take 10 weeks to carve it out into dead dinosaur disks. We should be performing and releasing the record in the winter hoping that the music con offer us some warmth.

Honestly, listening to the Sides A and B of this record transports me back into myself – to sit with my ideas- all wrapped in memories. I thought I’d share:

I remember my house and my mother living in Haiti. The air, the kennepas, and flowers but most of all, I remember my grandparents. They created Heaven for us in their homes in the mountains. Both died during the writing of this record. I was able to fly to my grandfather’s funeral, thanks to my father. My grandmother died a couple of weeks ago but Haiti is so violent I could not travel to see her. They were our family’s last true grounding point to the country my mother and I fled.

Fleeing leaves you lost and empty. As a boy I was so unsure of myself because I knew deep down, I didn’t belong. I missed and needed my family and I didn’t realize it. Nobody told me what was missing was my people scattered across the globe. Even now, I see my mother once a year and my father, less. This lack drove me to build family early, have a child young, and marry twice. I had no idea why I needed to do what I was doing. Some of these songs explore that plainly. This is the most important thing I’ve learned from playing in Wooden Rings since 2012.

Continuing to listen, I remember how much I loved my ex-wife and how amazing and beautiful she is. I believed in her more than anyone. Knowing how bad things had got between us, I am also reminded of how selfish and insecure I was and how I couldn’t be any better than I was. We were like two kimono dragons in house, two Qilins. I remember my daughter growing taller into the world with my cooking, challenging my conversations at the table, and testing herself carefully, listening to it all.

I remember how hopeless I felt working as a teacher, giving everything I had to others all day, with so little to bring home or share. I was good at it. My students flourished. Some died- shot. I attended only one funeral and decided, one would be all I was going to give. Writing this music was a way I could survive all of those ideas so I didn’t have to forget the memories. Those I could enjoy without being hurt by them over and over. Those I could keep without being poisoned.

The year is almost over and I’m so glad that I get to walk into winter with some Haitian sun, peaceful doves, my mother’s face, and some sugarcane rind to keep me warm.