Category Archives: Band

Bare beauty and a question for you

Dear friend,

I have received your letter or message and it has been a salve to the craggy, scarred face of my heart.

To those of you who sent a letter or card or flowers (Melissa, Russell, Manjari, Chris, Ami, Ashton, Ellen, Ros, Kelsey, Chrysantha, Ben and Alice) I want you to know that your love and effort has moved us deeply. As I expressed to my friend Alice, when I receive a letter or card from you expressing your care and support, there is a sense of relief inside of me. This heavy weight in my chest is no longer only carried by me; I feel your hands holding it up as well, and it is that much easier to bear. To me, this is no small matter. Your kind actions mean the world to me. I believe that Addison feels the same.

Even just the act of sitting and reading what I write, taking the time to sit with me through each post, is something I appreciate deeply. I love seeing your comments or reading your emails. I can attribute much of my healing process to you being here—wherever you are—to receive what I am sharing. Thank you.

Here in Colorado the skies create a sapphire backdrop for the golden fields and orange or gray or white, leafless trees. I never knew dead grass and bare branches could be so beautiful. When I walk Zoso at dawn, his tracks are negatives across the frosty ground. There are sounds of crunching beneath my feet as I breath with my steps.

These days are spent working, writing, recording our album, and—for me—crying many tears. I am missing my daughter and I understand now that there is no end-date for this sadness.

A couple of weeks ago I attended a meditation retreat in the Rocky Mountains with Addison and my sister, Radha. We spent a lot of time in silence and in ceremony. At times I found myself prostrated on the ground, invoking my ancestors and spiritual teachers. I lay down on the earth, practicing letting go and asking for help. Chickadee was there. In a way she has become my ancestor, though I was the one who gave birth to her.

I asked myself a lot of questions during those five days and received few answers—but that’s too be expected in any spiritual quest.

One of the questions I continue to ponder is this: what is going to be my way of taking positive action and helping to ease the suffering of living beings on this planet?

I was reminded—during a powerful presentation given by a Lakota dharma teacher at the retreat—of the many issues which are swept under the rug and kept from public view.

I contemplated how I am living in a country whose native people have been massacred, imprisoned, lied to, and mistreated in innumerable ways by my political leaders, both past and present. The Dakota Access Pipeline was one incident that the native people and U.S. religious leaders and citizens brought to public attention. But there is so much that goes unseen. What can I do to balance the scales? Can I take responsibility for my ancestors’ actions without being crushed under the weight of tremendous regret and sadness for what cannot be taken back?

Larry Rowe, another dharma teacher at the retreat, is an African American man. He mentioned the unease he feels being in the United States, and how much safer he feels in other countries. It reminded me that someone with different skin color than me may not be treated as well. I don’t want to turn a blind eye on these things.

I do want to consider deeply where I can be the most effective in creating positive change; I know my own limitations. 

What are some ways that you take positive action in the world? I’m curious to know, if you have a minute to share in the comments below (I may very well steal your idea if it really resonates with me—heh heh heh).

Yesterday we spent three hours recording my harmonies onto a 3 1/2 minute song for the upcoming album. It felt like a good use of our time, and it was also a reality check of just how long the recording process takes, not to mention mixing the tracks before sending them to be mastered!

The song we worked on yesterday is called “Chickadee”. Addison wrote it about our daughter. There is no way I would have been able to sing the song through, but he managed it beautifully. I approached my harmonies for the song by focusing on each sentence as a separate piece. I made myself concentrate on the words as syllables or notes which I had to sing in key and match timing with Addison’s voice. It enabled me to get through the whole recording process cheerfully. Listening back through the song as a whole definitely choked me up, but by then I was done singing for the day so that was fine.

My brother—who normally lives in South India—is currently in the U.S. due to a series of events, so Addison and I took advantage of his proximity and flew him out here. You may have already seen some of the photos he’s taken since he arrived in The Love Sprockets’ Instagram or Facebook feed. (the picture at the top of this post is his)

In the next week and a half we’ll be doing some photo and video shoots with him, and he is also revamping our website. It feels good to be “starting over” in certain respects to our music and as a band. We are really embracing our band as a duet, instead of wishing it was a four piece. And this next album will have a different sound and feeling from the last one we released.

Thank you for reading this update; I hope at least some of it was interesting for you. 🙂

Don’t forget to share your own way of creating positive change (big or small) in the comments below.

Big love to you!

-Jahnavi

P.S. You may have heard or figured it out—we extended the release date for our upcoming album, entitled “Chickadee”. If you haven’t gotten around to preordering it and getting your name in the liner notes, you still have time: http://music.thelovesprockets.com/album/chickadee

On the road again

The man looks to be in his 50s, with a tan face and well-groomed mustache. But at this moment his mustache seems to be coming undone.

“You rode your bicycle across Mexico??” He fidgets uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I got to Playa del Carmen and then realized I was pregnant and needed to come home.”

“Well….” he seems to be searching for words. “Well you know what I would say about it if you hadn’t gone already… you know I wouldn’t advise doing that! Alone… on a bicycle…” He trails off.

I smile and squeeze his arm. “No harm came to me!” I head into the kitchen to find the others.

Dick’s kitchen is brimming with chattering, smiling, laughing people, arms laden with potluck goodies… pasta dishes, giant chocolate cakes, guacamole dip that is “actually made out of asparagus!”, chips, loaves of bread, soup and numerous bottles of wine.

They’ve all come to see The Love Sprockets perform tonight, and to visit with old friends, break bread and drink wine… and whiskey… and banana daiquiris…

A lovely lady with long blonde hair and a wreath of green leaves and purple flowers on her head rushes to greet me. “Jahnavi! You made it!” Golden exclaims over my pregnant belly, and Lloyd looks at me in shock.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant!” he says, with what looks to be something like reproach on his face.

I’m wearing a slinky, form-fitting dress so that all of my old Baton Rouge friends can get a really good look at my big belly. I only see them once or twice a year, so this is their chance to see me in full baby-bloom.

“Well,” he concedes. “You make being pregnant look good!”

I sit down next to Golden to catch up.

“I was reading your blog the whole time,” she’s saying, “And I was scared for you when you were getting so tired, and than you found out you were pregnant, and…. oh…. But it was so funny when you did the whole pregnancy test in Mexico and your friend was there…” She laughs like tinkling bells.

I see Phil, our first Baton Rouge host from three years ago. He and his wife, Goldie, had taken Addison, Nic and I in on New Years Eve, on a cold, blustery day during our cross-country bicycle trip. We had been instructed to draw up a menu for that evening’s dinner and describe the dishes enticingly. He had taken close up shots of everyone’s mugs that night, even Zoso’s. We all look windburned, bedraggled, and Zoso’s mustache was the color of a hundred snacks, meals and drinks of water that had dried into it. But Phil loved Zoso. He fed him special, handcrafted meals alongside his own two dogs, and lovingly referred to him as ‘Yo-so.’

When I step in to give Phil a hug, his eyes widen with surprise. “I didn’t even recognize you!”

I eat spoonfuls of his spicy bok choy, ginger soup, while he tells me about his idea for the nights events.

“I would really like to hear the development of your music,” he tells me. “A song picked for each stage of your career together.”

“Like, a chronological set list!” I say.

“Yeah, okay, something like that.”

“That’s brilliant!”

After I’m done with my soup I find Addison unloading instruments from our car and tell him Phil’s idea.

“Cool,” he says, “That sounds like a good idea!”

And then he discovers the missing space that his set of 10 harmonicas, which he carries in a black case, should have been filling.

“Oh no….” he groans. “I think I left them in New Orleans!”

“Oh no….” I commiserate.

We had been on tour since Tuesday, and tonight it was Friday. Thursday we had driven to New Orleans and performed at a quaint, co-op of a cafe called The Neutral Ground. Perhaps because the venue is so covered in artifacts collected over the years, and only lit with soft, glowing lamps and christmas lights, it was hard to see that he had left his black case on the piano bench off in the corner.

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A picture of Mark, the artist who played before us, at The Neutral Ground

“Well at least I have one harmonica,” he whips one out from his pocket. “And it’s in the right key to play Wade in the Water and Soul of a Man.”

That night we all go on a journey together, sitting cozily in Dick’s living room, people cuddled together on couches, smiling and clapping from rocking chairs, or peering from the perch of a wooden kitchen chair to see over the heads of the others.

We tell the story of our meeting, starting the band, bicycling across the United States, and finally arriving in Austin. Each song we play fits into the story, and has its own story behind it. When we get to the part of the night’s journey where we talk about me leaving Addison and biking across Mexico, people sigh, laugh and make commiserating noises. We each play a couple of solo songs to show what music we were playing while we were apart.

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Me playing ‘A Moment’s Rest’ on the mandolin

Even though we let people get up and take a break halfway through, I am still so impressed and touched by how some of them sit and listen the entire time, following the story and the songs, with no complaint of boredom.

This is music as I feel it must have been in ‘the old days’, before TV, wifi and YouTube. The traveling musician arrives at your doorstep and the village gathers to feed them and gather stories from them about the lands they’ve visited, and to hear the songs they’ve carried with them from other places that perhaps the villagers will never see themselves.

It’s not about the musician, not about how they look or idolizing them as some kind of sex symbol. It’s about the music and the story and the community that’s come together to listen and discuss love, life and death with one another.

Here are some more pictures from our Houston, Baton Rouge and New Orleans tour:

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Packing up the car–no dog left behind!
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On our way to our live appearance on 90.1 KPFT Houston with Roark, one of the happiest DJs we know
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A Houston native
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Addison playing a solo song before our set at the Avant Garden open mic in Houston
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The Love Sprockets at The Neutral Ground
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Zoso getting comfy before our show at The Neutral Ground
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Me and the owl
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Packing up in Baton Rouge the morning after our house show at Dick’s
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Driving into the sunset, Austin on the horizon

Imagining my way in and out of imaginary disaster

All hail the unruly, wily mind that is comparable to a flame: never ceasing to move, always changing and transforming!

I am sitting in the Black Hole Cafe in Houston, TX right now, after a restless night of sleep in my aunt’s guest bed.

Last night Addison and I arrived in Houston and stayed up late with Aunt Michele, playing her songs with guitar and mandolin that made her weep.

And as we lay in bed last night, I shifted, tossed and turned, unable to drift into sleep. My mind just won’t STOP!

I lay awake thinking about Addison and how dear he is to me.

When we play music together, it’s as if the world around us falls away.

We sleep in the same bed at night, tangled together with arms and legs wrapped around one another, as have almost every night for the past three years.

What am I THINKING?? Why would I leave Addison for 6 months to a year?

My mind drifted to a few days earlier, when I had panicked and almost bought a ticket directly to Sao Paulo, Brazil. What if I spend all this time biking through Mexico and Central America and never actually make it to Brazil? I had thought. What if, when I arrive in Brazil via the Amazon river, the border patrol doesn’t let me into Brazil and I have to go all the way back the way I came, sweating and writhing around in a hammock on a slow moving boat in the sweltering heat?

I had considered just flying to Brazil and then biking back.

Then I did a yoga class with my favorite Black Swan yoga teacher, Dave, and I calmed down and felt resolved to leave from Los Angeles again.

Finally, after all that thinking, I drifted to sleep.

Only to awake again at 5 am, thinking about how I’ll need a 4 ft or longer cable to lock my bags together on my bicycle when I need to step into a convenience store to buy food during my trip. There won’t be anyone to stand outside and watch my stuff like when Addison and I biked from Vermont to Texas and had eachother’s backs. I’ll have my brand new gopro camera with me, and a world of supplies to get me through my long journey, all on my bicycle and easy for anyone to steal if they decide they want to.

Then my mind drifts to the mace I will carry with me. Should I hang it from my handlebars so it’s within easy reach at all times?

I imagine three men attacking me at once to steal my stuff. I see myself spraying one in the face with mace, and then quickly turning to spray the second one. But what about the third one that’s coming up behind me? And will they just writhe around once I spray them, or do I need to kick them in the nuts as well to keep them down? What if my stuff is all over the place when they approach, and I have to try to quickly pack it while they claw at their burning eyes, and then ride away? Or should I just run and leave the stuff?

When I finally got out of the bed this morning, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

Gosh, I am exhausted. 😀

Well, the fact of the matter is, none of that is happening right now.

What IS happening, is I need to pack my computer up and go play music live on KPFT Houston. The Love Sprockets are on at noon, central time.

Click here to tune in: http://kpft.org/listen/

And thanks for reading this post! Sorry it was a crazy one, but that’s how I’m feeling right now! 😀

A look at song writing…

love

Have you ever “fallen in love”?

You know, when your hormones are so jacked you can’t see straight, and just the thought of the other person sends you into state of unencumbered bliss?

I’m guessing this has probably happened to you, even if you don’t want to admit it. 😉

What I always find interesting about falling in love and about human beings in general (‘interesting’ is a nice way of saying ‘really fucking annoying’) is that when something is happening to us that we perceive to be really good, we can’t help but dread the potential end of it.

As always, we fear death.

The death of relationships, the death of the life we know now.

Even when we can recognize how healthy and normal change is, we can’t help but fear it subconsciously.

Well, at least I do, anyways. 🙂

So during the last bout of falling in love I did (which was about three years ago, thank God), the song Dark Angel was born.

This song asks alot of questions…

But does not provide any answers.

Here’s how it goes:

Dark Angel

Dark Angel Of Death Wallpaper - wallpaperest.com.

“I’ll be your innocence if you’ll be my sex appeal

Yes, I’ll be your innocence if you’ll be my sex appeal

You’ve got everything it takes to drive this situation wild

I saw you first, I saw you first

I saw you first and now you are mine

But I’m losing control of this situation all of the time

And are you the best thing that’s ever happened to me?

Are you the one to make my blind eyes see?

Or are you my dark angel of death?

Are you my terminal breath?

I’ll be your calling if you’ll be my answering

Yes I’ll be your calling if you’ll be my answering

You’ve got everything it takes to make a murderer of me

And are you the best thing that’s ever happened to me?

Are you the one to make my blind eyes see?

Or are you my dark angel of death?

Are you my terminal breath?

Are you the end of my fears?

Or are you a hurricane of tears?

Are you a hurricane of tears?

Or are you a hurricane….

of tears?”

Listen to Dark Angel by clicking here

dark angel

Thanks for reading this blog!

I’ll be back next week… 😉

~Jahnavi

Nobody Wants to Die (what this song is ACTUALLY about ;)

This week I thought it would be fun to share the story around one of our most popular songs on the album, Nobody Wants to Die.

Nobody Wants to Die is the title track of our latest album, and set the tone for our album’s theme: death.

But when I think about what the song’s original roots are, I remember that the song arose into my consciousness from a very potent, and virile emotion: jealousy.

The way that I experience jealousy, at least these past 5 years or so, is pretty specific: I become extremely riled up, and talk about or imagine the offending party’s death at my hands.

I’m not proud of it, but the fact is it makes for good song-writing fodder. 🙂

So about three years ago, when I was afflicted with a case of such jealousy, I attempted to make Addison admit that he was madly in love with the offending party; but I could coerce no such confession from him.

As I sat down in front of the piano late that night, I decided that he wouldn’t outright lie to me, so in order for him to withhold the truth for me, he would first have to lie to HIMSELF.

So I sang:
“Well he lies to himself, so he can lie to me
Well he lies to himself, so I won’t really see.”

And I concluded that the reason he would decide to not admit to being madly in love with this other woman, was because he was afraid I might murder her if he did.

“Cause nobody wants to die, nobody wants to die
Well he tells me lies, ’cause nobody wants to die…no.”

And understandably, who really does want to die?

I did quote him in the song, when he tried to convince me against this jealous idea:

“‘Oh be reasonable, see this reason:
I want you more, I will always want you more’…”

But I concluded once again:

“He says this to me because…

Nobody wants to die, nobody wants to die
Well he tells me lies, ’cause nobody wants to die…no.”

Once I had completed the song and eventually performed it for Addison, it was pretty short, only 2 minutes at best.

Addison and I decided (once my jets had cooled a bit) that he should write his own part, and have the song be a conversation between the two of us.

He didn’t write what I expected him to, though his words were coming from a defensive place (understandably):

“How many times has she set her mind on some way she thinks things should be?
She tells me what she sees, and how she wants to meet me in her dreams.
So I accept what she suggests, ’cause I love her the best
But when those dreams turn into tests sometimes I got nothing left
Still I say ‘yes’ ’cause…”

And then he sings this part during the chorus:

“I don’t want to kill her love for me…
I would never lie, but I don’t want her love to die.”

So this song began as an unpleasant ordeal, but nowadays it has become a fun song to for us to play together, and I believe it will continue to be as the years roll on… 🙂

Click on the link below to listen to Nobody Wants to Die and/or purchase the song:
https://thelovesprockets.bandcamp.com/track/nobody-wants-to-die