Many songs describe feeling like a stranger in a place you used to belong.
My song “Redshift” reckons with the fact that so much of who we are—so much of who our friends, family, and neighbors are—is shaped by the push and pull of forces that are blind, random, predetermined, and far beyond any of our individual control.
In astronomy, “redshift” refers to the way that wavelengths of light stretch over time, and appear redder as objects move away from us in our ever-expanding universe. (Here’s a visualizer from NASA). I first learned about this in a college class, and I’ve never quite shaken the sensation that, with each passing second, the farthest fringes of the observable universe are sliding irrevocably into darkness.
In America, “redshift” refers to a far more immediate slide into darkness.
I feel tugged between these two poles moving through the verses of this song: between the cosmic and the terrestrial, between the abstract and the material. I am occasionally paralyzed, dumbstruck by the notion that we are not beings moving through the our lives, but rather that the universe is a thing that moves through us.
But… down here on earth, when we’re lucky, able, and clear-headed enough to recognize a choice between fear and love, we have to choose the latter.
Album Out Next Thursday!
“Redshift” (my 12-track debut album) arrives on February 23! Take a peek at all the artwork (and learn the story of how the album cover came to be) here.
LIVE: Album Release Show on 2/26
February 26 at Schubas in Chicago—Three days after “Redshift” is born, come celebrate its release with me, the band, and our friends in Great Waters (who are celebrating a record release of their own).
We’re looking forward to sharing a special night together! Hope to see you there.