H.M.S. Royal Tears want nothing.
Not love, nor hate, nor sweet sweet candy.
If the H.M.S. want something, then we want this: Stop us on the street and turn out your pockets, pat us on the back and say: 'Everything belongs to me because I am poor.' Not in a literal sense, mind you, because everybody knows really being poor, a member of the working poor doesn't leave idle time for whimsical philosophizing. This is probably mid- twenties poor, or even college poor. Stop us on the street. 'Everything goes away from me now...everything belongs to me because I am poor.' And we'll share a starry-eyed chuckle. 'Ah, Jack Kerouac, now HE was a Captain', we'll say...'before the red wine, before the phlebitis, before we were seduced by intricate structures and artful forms...First thought, best thought!, yes, indeed.'
H.M.S. Royal Tears want nothing. Or if we want something else, it's for you to want nothing. To come together in a room with us and to sing at the top of our lungs, to sing loud enough and often enough, that someday we may want nothing together.
Today is Sunday, July 31st. Don't think too hard about it. Today there is no Captain.

The Hobbit House, or How I Learned to Hate Frank Gehry and love the Geodesic Dome.
One of my favorite things to do is corner architecture students at parties or bars and blather on about my hatred of Frank Gehry and my love for the Geodesic Dome. Being acquainted with someone in architecture school was great. Drunk, and with a healthy dose of bravado, I would see him from across the room and slowly make my way over. Seeing the gleam in my eye, my hair plastered to my forehead with the sweat born of dancing, there was no question as to what I wanted. This ever gracious architecture student suffered me with patience and kindness, always listening and nodding attentively. It was bliss.
And then - he dropped out. 'I quit', he said. 'The drawings and the models and the sleeping on the floor of the studio...I can't design shopping malls...I just won't do it.' I was confused and dismayed...'What will I do now?', I thought.
- And if you're thinking - This has nothing to do with the H.M.S. Royal Tears!! You are wrong, wrong, wrong...SO wrong. Frank Gehry vs. the Geodesic Dome is the crux of what the H.M.S. is all about. Whenever, wherever a team of brilliant engineers gather to consider tons of undulating stainless steel and how to hide a building under it, we will be far away in another corner of the world ready to play! If we could figure out the frequency at which these excessive cock rock structures would tumble, believe me we would. The grass roof 'Hobbit Home' is the future, at least, that's our opinion. Join the Royal Revolution!!

Today, 29th July 2005, Buckminster Fuller is the Captain. Look, it's not pretentious, it'sjust TRUE!!!

Two nights ago I woke up with fragments of a dream fresh in my mind. In the dream, I had heard the voice of one of my co-workers. It was strange, somehow I had managed to perfectly recreate this sound memory - everything was the same - pitch, tone, and cadence. How can the brain recreate these things so perfectly? This voice, familiar to me, but not necessarily dear - not my father's voice or my favorite singer or my tiny dog's bark - perfectly reassembled in my mind, left me lying there a little lost in thought.
What I really wanted to see was where in the brain sound activity occurs. What I wanted to know was how memory, perception, and physiology came together to stage the show. I decided, in my darkened room, in the absence of textbooks and diagrams, a tiny, miniature version of my co-worker sent to whisper in my ear, seemed most probable. What if there are tiny, miniature versions of the Royal Tears, set sail on the stormy waters of your dreams?! We will crawl in through the cracks in the houses and climb into your pockets and lie in wait for those moments when you are most suggestible...warm and drifting off - our voices humming - the cilia bouncing. All working to bring you a magic sound. A magic sound to untie all the ribbons. A siren call. If the call lures you out to sea! or towards the rocks! or under your covers! why not stop and look around?

Today, 21 July 2005 His Master's Voice is the Captain.

A buffalo, miss-matched socks, and Horatio Nelson underneath a rainbow. My bandmate is emailing me good, uplifting oratory and pictures of actresses that play doctors on TV. I think in another life, I would like to play a doctor on TV.
I wonder, if in the final moments before battle, Lord Nelson's thoughts turned to doctors on TV. It doesn't matter, really. Once again from the forest of magical specialness comes a hobbit-in-arms to rescue me out of the depths of despair. Multi-colored lights shoot from his eyes, ice cream recoils at his sweetness, he whispers in resonant frequencies. Today, 19th July 2005: Oscar Santos is the Captain.

"Clark realized immediately that the Teignmouth Electron, abandoned in apparently excellent order, presented a complete mystery. The Cabin was untidy. Two days' dirty dishes were in the sink. Three radio receivers, two of them disembowelled, stood on the tables and shelf, and radio parts were strewn in confusion everywhere. To one side a soldering iron was balanced precariously on an old milk tin - evidence that the boat had not been hit by any sudden wave or storm. An old, dirty sleeping bag lay on the forward bunk. The supplies of food and water seemed to be adequate. The boat's equipment was in reasonable order, but the chronometer case was empty. The smell in the cabin, clearly indicated to an experienced seaman, that no one had been living there for several days. On deck the life-raft was still firmly lashed in place, the helm was swinging freely. The lowered sails were neatly folded, ready to be raised, and nothing on deck gave any clue to an accident."

Join the Royal Tears 'in search of the miraculous.' We follow in the footsteps of those who have searched before us.
Today, 14th July 2005, Mr. Crowhurst and Mr. Ader are our bravest and dearest Co-Captains!

"The Bass Micro Synthesizer reissue has the same incredible features as the Micro Synthesizer with a filter sweep range tailored for lower frequencies. From percussive sounds to backwards sounding bowed sounds, the Bass Micro Synthesizer, with its four completely mixable voices (bass, octave above, sub-octave, and square wave or distortion) and adjustable filter sweep section lets the bass player create those fat vintage analog synthesizer sounds heard on records by everyone from Bootsy Collins to the Chemical Brothers."

I just purchased this pedal from a good samaritan named 'Mike.' Mike lives in Venice Beach, California and is going to New Zealand to work on Visual Effects for Peter Jackson's 'King Kong.' Mike was lovely and has performed dutifully in his service to
H.M.S. Royal Tears. Mike is the Captain for today, 13th July 2005.

xo