We Are All Fire

by cars & trains

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1.
2.
dead languages and forgotten songs retreating over oceans and state issued books of psalms the little black birds in my family tree black birds in the branches of my family tree hiding in rusty railroad cars silently hunted for someone else's wrongs the little black birds in my family tree black birds in the branches of my family tree
3.
ten thousand ships, launched by, ten thousand mediocre quips tangled in a beehive of our illusions, our eyes grab on to anything losing our sense of space and time and other things like direction, in a cave where we can only see our reflection reaching out blindly for something tangible, that splinters into tiny shards of all we think we know, is washed away by ten thousand waves, fueled by the fires of ten thousand earthquakes patiently waiting under a serene face, biding it's time until it all comes crashing in, erasing everything, all our names and mistakes even the clouds fear the wrath of the fates spinning threads, the leaves and branches overtake our hands and hammers, cranes, bulldozers, and ax blades the walls and notions and false prophets we create ten thousand ships, launched by, ten thousand mediocre quips tangled in a beehive of our illusions our eyes grab onto anything, losing our sense of space and time is washed away
4.
04:55
the thousand selves of me, that dream of a single being like a deck of cards with a missing king that scatter the world to find again i want dirt layered on the soles of my tired feet from towns we can't pronounce the names on station signs and street corners to sail across a sea of clouds and trees the exhaust from planes creating rings around the world and back again in the dust we leave, we hope we leave a trail from the heights of all the hills we've climbed hurl our words into valleys asking --- have i not changed there is a lake inside of me that trickles down to the sea like a black sail unfurled --- the yellow lines recede, in the mirror next to me they draw a line that can write my name, if i squint my eyes i can almost read all the sleep we've missed won't settle in our brains the thoughts and faces swirl around like birds circling on the horizon --- the shifts and cracks wrought in our plans make the core of what we are and can like sunlight leaves only hints behind no trail but subtle hints designed
5.
the dove, the sparrow, the raven circle in search of land, searching for branches to lean on, whatever else they can whatever i lay my feet on, the waters will recede deep is the darkness with no trace of light to see the rivers return to sea the birds will circle above us while time will act the thief and when i find my bearing my feet will anchor like falling leaves
6.
we are all fire we are all fire but where is the wind to fan the flames? we are all storms we are all storms but where is the ocean to make the waves? a surface to reflect us in our haste when the silence says my name, i'll be convinced, that the stars will stay in place circling around an anchor that yields it's weight, patiently waits, like the edge of an axe blade while the lonely sound of silence, burns like damp streetlamps in the wake of thoughts in waves that swell and break, the oceans will expand, contract and slowly dissipate while all the sleepy continents can drift and wake like my shifting feet in a faceless crowd that echoes in a hazy early morning dream, the kind where you wake in a cold sweat hours before the sun and realize in a sober fit the fact that we are all --- branches of trees reach quite quietly like the hands of thieves stealing silence from my teeth the lines are etched on my face, like my grandfather's name, acting out a play of impermanence
7.
8.
02:42
the birds, sky and trees don't care where the lines fall like rain doesn't care where it ends up at all the songs from our past and the stories collect dust while our language twists, bends, and forgets it will all look the same in the end despite what we're taught to pretend -- there will come a time when all that's left is a hint of a name -- a sea serpent hugging faint lines some hand drew, writing an narrative of what's it's been through to make up a story about nations past, as if they were perfect forever steadfast we could all go back to some time when everything was perfectly aligned --- there will come a time when all that's left is a hint of a name and a few crumpled maps marking borders where nobody's been (that no one can name)
9.
02:36
we all slowly drift apart like the stars and dark matter but i am my father's hands pushing forward some sort of plan if everyone that came before has a hand in what's in store then my actions reach back far it always gets most light before the dark oh, what if i, was a wind tossed black sailed ship would you wait———or jump into the foamy waves --- the stars would shine because they couldn't help the thought that they simply had no choice to shine dim and rejoice we all swim towards a distant shore through the things we must endure without a hand to guide or a neighbor to confide
10.
03:20
a slow song that sings significantly like treetops with arms outstretched up in the breeze or a solitary bird with it's starburst soliloquy singing to us about the things that she sees the atoms in the air vibrate succinctly to the words of a song that searches for ordinary things like a secret hidden in the branches of my family tree or a lonely plant sleeping by the edge of the sea -- the sleep that passes by {uncertainly} like a swarm of strings entwined {playing} playing a sweet melody whose sincerity isn't fooling me - a slow song that sings significantly like treetops with arms outstretched up in the breeze or a solitary bird with it's starburst soliloquy singing to us about the things that she sees -- the sleep that passes by {uncertainly} like a swarm of strings entwined {playing} playing a sweet melody whose sincerity isn't fooling me
11.
colors and shapes we overrate obscure the faces of the ones we hold and when we find the choices at hand we find out what we are and have a picture painted of the hills, we've climbed to help us to fulfill the colors paint so vividly a picture of what we meant to be we make meaning from nothingness and shine a light so bright we can see all of our eyes and know past all the uncertainties my handwriting becomes hard to read //the fact that we are here, intend to be like all the things we obsolete and even if we lose that art we still are what, what we are we are all fire we are all fire where is the wind to fan the flames we are all storms we are all storms but where is the ocean to make the waves?

about

WE ARE ALL FIRE ### OUT SEPTEMBER 18th on FAKE FOUR, INC www.fakefourinc.com

The concept of a family is one of those ever-morphing ideas that is constantly growing and contracting as we stumble through life. Sometimes that means joy; far too often, there's a great deal of pain involved. But whether it is the people that raised us, or the friends and loved ones that picked up where the birth family dropped the ball, we have a family we can call our own. It is in this spirit that Tom Filepp created his third full-length album We Are All Fire recorded under the name Cars & Trains. The idea was to create a narrative about family—a search for identity and a personal narrative expressed through electroacoustic pop—that pulled in as many members of Filepp's musical family as he could get.

Though you might not be able to pick out their individual contributions, sprinkled throughout the album is the work of fellow Portland musicians like the Future Historians, Alameda, and the Ascetic Junkies, as well as Filepp's labelmates Astronautalis, Rickolus, and Ceschi Ramos.

From that foundational idea, Filepp found confidence to explore the darker crevices of his musical psyche. Not with the intention of wallowing in the muck, but to shine some light and clear out the cobwebs, all through the skein of an Odyssey-like narrative that wends in some indelible imagery taken from the natural world. Stars, wind, waves, birds, trees, and, of course, fire all play prominent roles.

Like any great songwriter can, Filepp connects the personal and the universal beautifully. You can hear how these songs affect him through his poignant and gently piercing vocal performances.

He then balances out the emotion these songs stir up with fluttering downtempo beats, delicate acoustic playing, and the inclusion of strings, horns, and smatterings of electronic noise.

We Are All Fire is both a question and an answer. Filepp seeks to find out what family means in our digital age, and finds the connections he was looking for both in his own past and in his present. The key word in the album title is "we," and that includes you too.

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released September 18, 2012

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cars & trains Portland, Oregon

electronic-folk toy-instrument live-looping craziness a la the microphones, tunng, psapp, múm. proprietor of
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