Memory is the daughter of heaven and earth, and the muse is a daughter of memory and everything. It is traditional for an artist to call on the muse at the beginning of an endeavour. This suggests that the great works of art begin, not in the presence of the muse, but in her absence. – Amanda Jernigan
If Steven Lambke were a bird he’d be a Zeppelin – Daniel Romano
So let us invoke the muses, and let us fly like a zeppelin. This is my new record, Days of Heaven; dear muses, let me speak true of it. It’s a tender, intimate thing, though in it’s tenderness and in it’s intimacy it required attention and courage. The songs were written over some years in the crumbling capitals of an old world: Venice, Detroit, Sackville, Toronto. Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) and Ian Kehoe (Marine Dreams) helped me develop them, adding layers, adding voices, being audience and sounding board, adding as I was paring them down to the essentials: a flower, a stone, a swallow. I was a man softly saying ‘love’ into the dread silence of a full moon. We recorded with my frequent collaborator Jeff McMurrich (Constantines, Jennifer Castle, John K Samson) and then we recorded more at home. Mika Posen played violin and Ross Miller played bass. Darcy Hancock (Ladyhawk), my friend, played guitar on “Dead Stones,” “You Know Me Well,” and “Moonshine Brother.” Richard Laviolette lent his brave voice to “Moonshine Brother;” it makes the song; may we all choose our families well. Shary Boyle, with unmeasurable generosity of spirit lent her beautiful sculpture La Lune to the album as grace and muse.
My love, be brave. Strong enough to love. Strong enough to be loved. To listen close to love and hear love.
Days Of Heaven, the first song on the album, was written on New Years Day in Sackville, NB. I was alone and the wind was strong. Tamara played the bowed guitars. If you listen closely at the end you can hear the drum machine bleeding through.
Thank you for listening. I hope you like it.