Eden Bloom – Lost Planet I don’t know where I’m going I can’t remember where I’ve been I landed here on this planet And I’ve just been trying to fit in I sit with every sunset Chart the stars and draw the maps Light the fires on nights I think are special I keep on calling… And I wake with every sunrise Try to put it together best I can I do it for the people I’ve fallen in with here It was lonely so I’ve taken up with them. And I don’t know where we’re going Hate and greed may bring it to an end. My soul was brought down on this lost planet. Now our children carry the star with them. So I wake with every sunrise Try to listen to the spirits, the people and the land. I light the fires on the nights I think are special. While we spin I keep on calling…
Welcome to the first full edition of Symbols and Spells. This has been a long time coming and now that it is here I am not sure what to say. I should start at the beginning I suppose. This year I changed my name to Eden Bloom. There are numerous reason for the change but here I’ll highlight the positive. What’s in a name.
Our family is well. We continue to work (slowly) on the house and the half acre of land that we are attempting to keep up. The biggest news is our new roof. Now that we are no longer dealing with water damage we can begin restoration of the “other” side of our house. We are also actively seeking investors to support this work and the creation of a space that we can share with our community.
I’ve been playing guitar quite regularly, almost every day. While I managed to eek out Lost Planet earlier in the year, I’ve been challenged to find my way to writing new material. I’ve started working on a project I’m calling Golden Age, which is basically a covers project. I’ve been posting them frequently to YouTube.
Before Stranger Things brought Kate Bush back into the charts I started working on a cover of her seminal nuclear protest track Breathing. Breaking from the simple live recordings I’ve been making in the dining room I attempted to multitrack this one. I also began working with lyrics that reflected our current struggle for clean air here in Detroit. If it were vinyl I’d release Breathing Stellantis as a b-side.
Earlier this year I self-published Eschaton Life. Supporters copies are still available and you can download a digital version.
Welcome to Eschaton Life. While the meaning of the name may be available to some, I will always express that this is not an endorsement of any fascistic or dogmatic movement, but rather an expression of creative resistance to systems of ‘control’ operating in what many perceive as the end times. In short, living in or through the eschaton.
Eschaton Life is an attempt to catalog Eden Bloom’s work and archives. On the Spring Equinox of 2021 my family and I began the process of changing my and our name. By default, I’ve lived with my father’s name for 50 years. While I have always dreamed about the change I’ve never been stable enough to make it happen. Eden, rather than biblical, stems from my engagement with the Temple of Psychic Youth in the 80s and 90s and Bloom was the moniker used to signify my spiritual/creative efforts since that time.
My internal reasoning for the existence of Eschaton Life is to document my ‘stuff’ for my family in a way that make sense. My experiences with what I’ll call here ‘the divine’ have rarely been mediated by easily ciphered knowledge and practice. While there are certainly influences, patterns and systems that resonate throughout, translation, as always, remains a problem. This is an attempt to organize the threads that have mattered.
One of the undisputed masterpieces in Kevin Ayers’ catalog, “Lady Rachel (Lullabye For Children)” was first sighted on his solo debut album, 1969’s Joy Of A Toy. A vaguely supernaturally-themed ballad, alive with fantasy elements and whispered dream sequences, “Lady Rachel” was powered by treated guitars, a quavering horn, and a wealth of muted sound effects that certainly bespoke the accompanying Soft Machine’s musical dexterity, but detracted somewhat from the majesty lurking within the song itself. The album itself was recorded in just three days, with the bare minimum of overdubs, and “Lady Rachel” unquestionably suffered from the experience.
That injustice was rectified two years later when Ayers, now accompanied by his Whole Wide World band, returned to “Lady Rachel” for a projected single. The release was eventually cancelled and the session remained unreleased until 1976’s Odd Ditties compilation. However, it was worth waiting for. Considerably slower than the original LP version, the song was built now around boiling horns, while a female backing chorus soared hauntingly behind the chorus to further color the mystic lyric. This same arrangement also fires the punchy 1972 live version found on the BBC collection Too Old To Die Young. Ayers also turned in an effectively skeletal solo acoustic rendition on a BBC studio session in July 1974.
If you’re looking for something that was here check All Covers – https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjIybaZSX3lRElLNKiZiZfezt_W0ykZ5k
The majority of these covers were recorded live with my iPhone 13 Pro in our dining room in Detroit. The kids can often be heard in the background. Many songs are filled with flaws, fumbles and misremembered lyrics. I typically use too much reverb on the vocal mic and record hot due to my hearing issues. These are intentionally extremely unpolished sketches. Some of my rearrangements are intentional, some of them due to the limits of my own ability. I don’t own the rights to lyrics or music.
These sketches are part of an ongoing healing process. I’ve still got a lot of work to do, but I kicked alcohol in the spring of 2017. A great deal of my life has been metal and emotional detox since then. Removing alcohol from my daily routine has brought an understanding of how booze was intertwined in all my relationships. Drinking had also become integral to my connection to music as it was key to the connection with and adoration of my muse(s).Suffice to say, creativity without alcohol has been fleeting at best. I’ve struggled with the transformation and with attempts to write new material without reaching toward inebriation.
These tracks are part of a healing process and an attempt to rewire some of my internal connections; to establish relationships, sometimes for the first time, that are not fueled by or based upon alcohol.
Some of these songs are from my childhood and somehow connected to my interest in altered states.
Some of these songs, and the challenges and emotions they extoll, have transfixed me since I first heard them.
Some of these songs have perplexed me. All of them have challenged my technical ability, coordination and focus.
For the past five years, being unable to write anything new without unleashing demons, I have turned to these songs as gestures toward laying a foundation. To connect my fingers to the strings without lubrication, to find my way back to worship at the temple of my muse(s) without wine.
