I was immaculately conceived in the radiation-blistered landscapes of the New Mexican deserts. Where humans and extra-terrestrials live together in secrecy about their beginnings. Where they pretend to speak the same language, but segregate from each other in enclaves of the indigenous and indignant or foreign and aggressive.
My adopted father was a hollow-boned eagle with a crooked beak and stained feathers that sought fortune-tellers to predict the changes in the directions of the wind. One morning I awoke to realize he was no longer there, and I was relieved. My real father was a gray owl, a healer owl. He fixed throats and repaired songbird’s instruments. It was one of many talents, but the one that paid best. Because of his nocturnal schedule, he would only visit my mother after midnight to love her and tell her how beautiful she was. One morning she awoke impregnated by a bird whose face she was unfamiliar.
As a child I swam with the dolphins of the Emerald Coast. They were the ones to teach me how to sing. They, to no fault of their own, could not speak my particular strand of English, so it was music that let our friendship bloom. My mother tried befriending the generals and robber barons of the Emerald Coast. However, they forbade her entry to the ranks claiming she did not belong. After several attempts she tried dressing as one of them, in shoulder pads and suffocating fabrics, to fool them and allow her entry, but her delicate voice and romantic curls gave her away as a woman. Then she had no more access to their gold to feed her children. The generals and robber barons banished her to a land they said could give her what she wanted.
Upon arriving in California my mother and I competed with dragons and lotus blossoms for the award of Most Beautiful. We were disqualified from the races to be crowned Strongest, Most Intelligent and Most Enduring. Disqualification was based on the angles adjacent our waists and the tightness of our vocal physicality. My mother and I recoiled in bitter surrender for the hopelessness of our world vs. theirs.
In California we learned to hate. We learned to blow on our salted wounds. But we also drank tea and ate food to remind us of our good fortune. And the eagles and owls have portraits framed above our bedroom mantels. We drape them in Harry Potter special cloaks and they watch us through the slits carved out for their eyes in the drywall. They hide on the other side of the wall, where they watch us and know what we’re doing, even though we came to California to hide from them to begin with.
And at 22, I became a New Orleans crawfish. It wasn’t my choice to return to the Gulf Coast as food for the local vultures, but the succubus’ of the Big Easy noticed my weak soul and I stayed in Louisiana for six months to write and record my most recent album, Birth and The Atomic Bomb.
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My attempts to create an Open at the Mama Buzz Cafe have failed. The will be no open mic at the Mama Buzz cafe. The "Every Second Sunday" open mic has been double booked for the second month in a row. It is clear I'm not suited to be the host of an open mic. Thank you all for your interest and support. My sincerest apologies to all musicians poets that hoped and even planned for this open mic.
Great video for Heaven. And of course the song is outstanding. I was lucky enough to see you perform at a house party in Nashville in June. You were great and I told you to keep it up. I think you might remember the time. I also told you I would listen to your record and tell you what I thought. Well I have played it a lot.. It is great. I hope Iceland was/is fun.
i listened to the Tell Savannah EP the other day on my way to work. duuuude i forgot how awesome it is. it was cool too not knowing exactly what part came next and being pleasantly surprised.
your multiple kazoos on the first two tracks add such a unique sound; it was like hearing it for the first time cause when i used to listen to it we had just recorded it.
Dear Friend Alana, you do great music and you are are true singer/songwriter, sings about whats happening for the moment. You voice is so powerful and you play your guitar just fine.
Hers the guitars I use foe the moment playing acoustic, thought you might like to have a look...
Iceland?! Well, I think that's pretty good. Have you been doing well with the tour? I'm good. Getting ready for school to start up again. I hope you'll do the college tour, I have a couple venues for you here.
the other night I was up in redwood city. I went through this Wendy's drive through and it dawned on me that 5 years ago we drove through it coming back from practice and you were pretending to have a British accent and you couldn't figure out how to say honey mustard with the accent. =[ so many memories. I miss you!
