Concert Vault

Satellites

Studio Paradiso (San Francisco, CA)

Sep 15, 2014

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  1. 1 Welcome to Daytrotter 00:06
  2. 2 God Bless America 02:55
  3. 3 World At Your Feet 05:55
  4. 4 This Is All There Is 02:06
  5. 5 Madison Park Bell 04:58
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Liner Notes

We're not wired to believe in limits. We're meant to aspire and attain. It's been brainwashed into us that there is more out there and that we are all prone to blind spots that -- even if we're not aware of them -- they exist and they're plumb full of more stuff, more things, more people, more possibilities, more combinations. We refuse to believe in ever coming face-to-face with any end punctuation, but rather tease ourselves into a drunken wonder about what more might be out there. Johnny Vic, as Satellites, lights a humble little fire here that presents a lovely thought meant to de-rouse a body. It's meant to comfort a person. It's the idea that the parameters are set and there's no busting them. There's no pushing them or stretching them like the walls of a stomach to fit more in, when the glutton emerges, as it always does. This is what you get and you can stop dreaming. This is not a depressing manner of thought, but rather one that allows a person to quiet his or her anxiety and take the moments as they come. Vic sings as if strolling. He gives us his words like they were being exhaled from a heart fogged with reverb. They could accompany a drive through open country, where people aren't, where you could just take everything that you see. It's a feeling that should matter to all of us crazies -- when we're incited to swing wildly for the fences or when we're scared of the heights we're blindly climbing, when we just need to disappear.

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More Satellites

We're not wired to believe in limits. We're meant to aspire and attain. It's been brainwashed into us that there is more out there and that we are all prone to blind spots that -- even if we're not aware of them -- they exist and they're plumb full of more stuff, more things, more people, more possibilities, more combinations. We refuse to believe in ever coming face-to-face with any end punctuation, but rather tease ourselves into a drunken wonder about what more might be out there. Johnny Vic, as Satellites, lights a humble little fire here that presents a lovely thought meant to de-rouse a body. It's meant to comfort a person. It's the idea that the parameters are set and there's no busting them. There's no pushing them or stretching them like the walls of a stomach to fit more in, when the glutton emerges, as it always does. This is what you get and you can stop dreaming. This is not a depressing manner of thought, but rather one that allows a person to quiet his or her anxiety and take the moments as they come. Vic sings as if strolling. He gives us his words like they were being exhaled from a heart fogged with reverb. They could accompany a drive through open country, where people aren't, where you could just take everything that you see. It's a feeling that should matter to all of us crazies -- when we're incited to swing wildly for the fences or when we're scared of the heights we're blindly climbing, when we just need to disappear.