Brave Hours

by Walking Bombs

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about

Brave Hours was created in 2016 with the major involvement of engineer and multi-instrumentalist Jay Andersen of grunge band Surmiser on each song and a new cast of collaborators/guests. As in the past with the project, expect a range of styles from hard rock to grunge to emo to some industrial and post-punk influences.

The bulk of the record -save for most collaborators’ parts- was recorded in Saugerties, NY by Jay Andersen at Operation: Audio. The album (which features cover art by Kim Zangrando) was mastered at Witch Ape Studio by grunge legend Tad Doyle (TAD, Brothers Of The Sonic Cloth).

Guests featured are industrial duo VOWWS, folky white witch Elizabeth Le Fey aka. Globelamp, James Felice (The Felice Brothers), Nate Garrett of rising metal acts Gatecreeper/ Spirit Adrift, retro rocker Jeremy Swift of The Beautiful Bastards and saxophonist Jørgen Munkeby of “blackjazz” pirates Shining (Norway).


“Jay Andersen of the band Surmiser is basically also part of Walking Bombs because we do nearly every song together presently, even though it is my solo name. He has a similar aesthetic as I do where we like pro sounding stuff but also came up being into anarchic early Nirvana and Melvins, bands who experimented, so we have a lot of fun trying weird things. I am very blessed to have the other collaborators this time also from many of my favorite bands in the world who mean so much to me as people and artists.”


The songs deal with themes such as hatred (“Intolerance”), LGBTQ/non-binary rights (“Loveislove”), Suicide/depression (“Even When It Hurts), coping with death and dementia (“Brave Hours”) and more.

“The title track is a sort of Foo Fighters “Everlong” influenced song I wrote with my friend Jay Andersen for my mother who has dementia,” says vocalist Morgan Y. Evans. “She was alone for most of a day in a country house with my father after his sudden death from heart failure/cancer. It was during a snow storm and she was confused and crying, unable to remember how to call anyone on the phone and also having just lost her partner of over 30 years. It breaks my heart to even think about. Her developing illness, which we initially thought was natural old age sort of fog, really ramped up after that and she never has been totally herself again since that traumatic time. My friends at Altercation Records were almost gonna put it out but with mom’s condition and other factors in my life like needing to get my moods in check I can’t exactly gig enough to fairly promote it for them on the road, so I am going with a digital self release again as the music/creativity is certainly still valid.”

credits

released April 14, 2017

cover art by Kim Zangrando

All songs Morgan Y. Evans and Jay Andersen (+ guests where noted).

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about

Walking Bombs Woodstock, New York

Singer and music journalist Morgan Ywain Evans (and friends) genre jumping solo/collaborative project from the Hudson Valley, NY. Stay calm and don't explode.

"The band name is about discussing mental illness and culture divides. A kind of fuck you to hate and also a rebuke to people who have called me a loose cannon.” - MYE.

#propeace #blackmetal
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Track Name: Dry Heaves feat. Jørgen Munkeby
Positive and negative space always seem to reach the same conclusions
Breathe steadily to relax yourself, now is not the time to lose it.
You were flung so far astray, mirage the wind blew away.
Up against a conference so heavy, imagining a token good luck.

It'll take a minute now to get you to settle down
No matter how hurt we seem to get they say there's always tomorrow
(I don't know)

Count to zero forward this is no godsend theme, this is an exercise in sweat
To keep your face from decomposing, another case of life ripe for the novelty.
So choose your special effects and may God have mercy (on your soul).

When we began I always hoped we'd have this chance.
If you can stomach it, we can really make a difference at least in our minds and insides...put away those dry heaves.
Track Name: High Stakes feat. Jeremy Swift
I'm so tired of the fake believers, minor tourists of this rock n roll
Don't you know you're making the dream sick? Count the minutes til you up and go.
Don't you know that it's cool to believe? Like Jimi Hendrix said ,"music sweet music."
Call me crazy, call me naive, but motherfuckers make a break for it when it's high stakes.

High stakes.

More trustworthy than any one person, the sound will be there when you hit the ground. Pick you up out of that circle of snakes, the ones who say they've got your back and then are nowhere to be found.
So light a candle for the traditions, a communion, a sharing of soul.
Still worth it to bridge the divide and say you're still in it, fuckin' with it when it's...even...

High Stakes

yeah, yeah, yeah.
Track Name: Loveislove
A field of blue with stars shining bright, but there weren't many nights you could wrap yourself tight in that blanket.
Not that you didn't try, but the bars were red and white.

We twist the words, declare independence from neighborly welcomes and good faith tolerance, followed by hate crimes and such horrifying sights.

How far can we go (way out)
Can you tell me how far?
How 'bout now?

Thank you for your efforts, so disenchanted...
the lovers, dreamers and me.
Never forgotten or taken for granted by those who know your love is pure.
Track Name: Intolerance feat. VOWWS
I'm not exactly what you think
There is so much more to me.

Sacred respect despite surface differences and those unique experiences
In a world of misshapen recognition where no beauty is recognized unless it runs a gauntlet,
faces a firing squad and answers for meaningless crimes.

Look into my eyes...

I'm not exactly what you think
There is so much more to me.
And I won't fit so easily into your hateful categories.
A kind creator or an empty void, a love letter or a death sentence.
No matter, we still need less intolerance.

Razor thin barriers thicker than our skin. Am I blinded by clouds moving in?
On one side there is a rain setting in. On the other aching for what's been.


Look into my eyes...

I'm not exactly what you think
There is so much more to me.
And I won't fit so easily into your hateful categories.
A kind creator or an empty void, a love letter or a death sentence.
No matter, we still need less intolerance.

Burning at the stake. Made to walk the plank with cement shoes on.
Scale a wall of entitlements or beg for nourishment from devils.

I hope you have no problem finding who you are in a world of empty vessels blacking out the stars.

I'm not exactly what you think
There is so much more to me.
Track Name: Flower Punx 4ever
Flower punks, old guard, gypsies, lycanthropes, witches, warlocks, weird kids, hip hop metal heads, queen wasps...whatever the fuck you wanted. You could get by with a little help from your real friends.

That's the kind of scene I came up in.
We came alive in garages and town halls, under the moonlight.
Whether stark raving sober or high as kites, we never were afraid to make eyes at that moon.

How soon do you think it will be before the revolution? Or at least another party bloody good enough to make us think it has arrived?

Stay thankful to the ones who help you pull this off.
Thankful to the ones who help you do this shit at all.

I always wanted this to mean something. Hold you all close to my heart, so let's laugh at our follies.
Cry at things we have survived. Give thanks. We believe it in out hearts. Cuz we might only get this lifetime.
Paint your face in mud and menstrual blood under the milky way. Run screaming through the streets to scare away the tourists.

How soon do you think it will be before the revolution? Or at least another party bloody good enough to make us think it has arrived?

Stay thankful to the ones who help you pull this off.
Thankful to the ones who help you do this shit at all.
Track Name: Please Play Nice
The fever of being in love
Got something to say but I've gotta learn to listen

The fever of being in love
Gotta gotta gotta...

The fever of being in love
I make the same mistakes. I've gotta learn my lesson.

The fever of being in love
Gotta gotta gotta...say what?

The fever of being in love
Forget just the foot I'll put both fists in my mouth.
Figure it all out. Gotta pay someone to get 'em out now.

The fever of being in love
The one you always make a fool of yourself for,
lying on the floor. But you still wanna come back for more.
Those ones you always make a fool of yourself for.

Can't believe I'm a fully grown man still trying my hand at this punk rock bs
But it keeps me alive and I and I survive, like looking into your eyes...
AND I like my coffee black just like I like my fucking metal, but something about you
has got me pulling through, let me be your fallen angel.

Fever, fever...
Track Name: Eyes Forward (New Chapters) feat. Nate Garrett
Save depression undo process

I came from a desire to please and your brilliance called out to me
In desperation I had to be sure you would keep the motion free from falling into a need for disbelief
A tidepool of careless pasts, a level gaze so make it count.
We're drawn out, so let's interact.

Can we save depression undo process with eyes forward to new chapters?

I'll lie next to your patience and lie next to your impatience.
I'll lie next to your patience and tell the truth.
It's our sainthood.

Ghosts in the clouds can share the calendar marked and ready for war, but with eyes forward we'll know the score.
I'm your star of a restless bookmark. I pray these threads don't unravel too far, a haunting that's too hard to watch...due to all that love has lost.

So I'll lie next to your patience and lie next to your impatience.
I'll lie next to your patience and tell the truth.
It's our sainthood.

Easter Sunday. Ms. Pop '66

Who can tell what's in store lately?
Can I still hold you closer for the first time?

Wolves at the door and I'm half in the bag.
Track Name: My Condolences
gray rain in March leaving Manhattan but not on the run,
and a haze of worry is eclipsed by the sun and I know this much at least is done.
So here it is and who would've thought I'd be a mortuary escapee vs. bad legislature?
But I'm dancing past the head of a pin. Got the lessons from those angels, yeah.
Holy spirits of self sufficiency.

I'd love to paint the walls with you but I'd run out of blue and what we'd have instead would be a bittersweet red.

You ask why but you should've figured it out by now.
We don't have time to waste.
Track Name: Brave Hours
This song was written for my mom after my dad passed away and her dementia advanced. It means a lot to me. If you want to know the lyrics please listen to this one. I'm thankful it exists and can't bring myself to type them out right now. Peace, love, thank you.
Track Name: Even When It Hurts feat. Globelamp, James Felice
Went down to the riverbank to drain my wrists but I couldn't do it.
I'd left a letter that said I felt so sad, I didn't know how to carry it.
And as time grows longer between now and then, each year more pronounced...thankful for every moment, so glad I didn't go through with it.

Even when it hurts, even when I bleed.
When I can't trust anyone and want to pick the meat right off the bone
and leave all this hate out in the Godless cold, I just think of you, I think of friends and hope that love is real, woah, I hope.

I remember when you said you could feel me down to your toes.
We'd share beliefs like "if there's no love, what's the point of growing old?"
And we'd share bodies, we'd share fears and I would sing to you in bed and count your tears.
One thing I know, despite misgivings can't let the skeletons stop the land of the living.


Even when it hurts, even when I bleed.
When I can't trust anyone and want to pick the meat right off the bone
and leave all this hate out in the Godless cold, I just think of you, I think of friends and hope that love is real, woah, I hope.

What's the point? What's the point of growing old?
So scratch my back and take this need, pluck out my feverish eyes so I'll relearn to see and even if I sulk and I can't believe we all live sometimes with shaking knees...

Even when it hurts.
Track Name: Shaking with dread, but passing for human
I don't wanna fight but here's a fight song.
Stop telling me I don't belong.
You're monsters. They're monsters.
Count the days in my head til I get a chance to cut through the thicket
and reach a clearing where I can fall into the right welcoming arms.

Every single one of us is different.
Every single one of us is the same.
I don't know if they make prayers big enough for what I need to pick myself back up and brave the day.

Can't live in fear of always fucking things up.
I wish I had the right words instead of far too little or WAY too many.
Cuz I feel like debris after the bomb dropped. My God, it gets so heavy.
And I've been drawn towards the gallows more times than I care to admit.

Every single one of us is different.
Every single one of us is the same.
I don't know if they make prayers big enough for what I need to pick myself back up and brave the day.

It's not some confidence game.
I hate playing games at all.
I'd never set you up just to mess with you in anticipation of a fall.

Of a fall.

And I'm fighting my way back after the darkness found a heart.
And inside I'm still alive trying to glue myself together a piece at a time into a work of art.