Here returns the spring
I’m out the door
Don’t wait, don’t wait
Hear it from afar
The sound of drums
And moving cars
The fast pace ingrained
The open field won’t stay
But the silent walks remain
The centerpiece of your nights
Under winter’s grey sky
Walk forth, move on It’s been too long
Was I right about your distance
I’d rather write about myself
The fever stays and makes you shake
Through all your panicked days
No more calm summer nights
Windows down, flashing lights
Walk forth, move on
It’s been too long
Too long
To be honest, I thought it’d be over by now. Everything’s been normalized, but we’re all still just waiting, stuck between what was and what will be. Unable to move on while continuing to move through life, like walking through a never-ending tunnel, chasing a pinprick of light that never seems to get any bigger. No wonder nostalgia is so romantic.
The word “liminal” is defined as “occupying a transitional stage of a process,” or “being on both sides of a threshold at once”. This is how life feels now, and was especially how it felt during the making of this album; I recorded it mostly during the second half of 2020 when the universal state of flux caused by the ongoing pandemic was still new. This feeling of in-between was intensified for me as my wife and I also awaited the birth of our first child. Massive change both internally and externally was afoot, and so I turned to making music to ease the waiting as I have before in my life during periods of upheaval.
exploring the past
I’ve wanted to make this record for a long time. Since discovering my love of lo-fi cassette recording back in 2007 with the first Overred release, Theater, I’ve envisioned making something like what Liminal has become: a carefully-curated mixtape of ambient experiments. What I didn’t expect was the meaning that this collection of old and new sounds would derive once all pieced together.
I hadn’t made music seriously since my early 20’s, back when I considered myself a musician, and before I instead started managing them full-time. The change of plans brought on by the pandemic propelled me back into writing and recording; I finally had the time to explore the vague ideas I had been carrying around for so long. I knew I wanted to create something that was mostly instrumental and ambient with an old Roland keyboard I’ve had since high school as the core instrument. Once I powered it on and confirmed it still worked, I bought a couple of microphones, dug out all of the tape recorders I’ve collected over the years, and started writing.
in a wavering present
I took a minimalist approach to the music, writing simple and repetitive chord progressions on the piano. To add depth, I began sifting through a box of old cassettes I’ve kept since my early years of music-making and picking out bits of old songs and field recordings to potentially incorporate. This process took on a life of its own and started informing the direction of the music as a collection; it was like the audio equivalent of flipping through an old photo album, seeing - or hearing - a version of yourself you thought you’d forgotten. Suddenly, I was building entire songs around single melodies from unfinished demos (“South,” “Red”), accompanying entire atmospheres captured on tape decades earlier (“Cornucopia,” “Summit”), and reimagining songs that that long-ago version of myself had written but never released (“Liminality,” “Lead”).
Each song became an exercise in nostalgia and the catharsis and delusions it can invoke when you’re at a turning point and life feels unstable. I immersed myself in a long-lost musical past in a wavering present, caught between that past and a future I’ve never been less sure of. In this liminal state, I made music for the first time in fourteen years and found a part of myself I didn’t even realize I had lost.
with an ear toward the future.
credits
released January 28, 2022
all songs by Overred except “South”, written by Overred, Amble Down (ASCAP) and Bob Beahen, Dandelion Wine (ASCAP), and “Summit”, written by Overred and Anaïs Mitchell, Treleven Music (ASCAP)
recorded at home, August 2020 - March 2021
produced by Overred with additional production by Zach Hanson
mixed & mastered by Zach Hanson
photos by Overred
layout by Bradley Hale
additional musicians:
Tani Nielsen sings on 3
Eric Rykal plays snare on 3 and sings and plays guitar on 5 even though he doesn’t remember
Zach Hanson sings on 5
Bob Beahen plays drums on 5
samples:
Scorp: Natalie Walstein of Soulshine Astrology, used with permission
Summit: “Coming Down” by Anaïs Mitchell courtesy of Trevelen Music (ASCAP) and Wilderland Records
The biggest thank you to my wife for encouraging me start making music again. I love you. Thank you to my mother for always listening and to my late father for everything, this is and always will be for you. And in no particular order, thank you to Zach, Eric, Nick, Brad, Tani, Bob, Molly, Josh, Anaïs, Liz, Natalie, Justin, Lew for the bass, Sean, One Josh Scott, KFlat, Trever, John, Jeremiah, and Pete.
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