I had the distinct honor of being awarded last night with an mtv woodie for the work that I have done over the years for charity. In all the time I have played music I don't think I have been to a single award show and in a way I feel blessed that my first experience celebrated something I hold so dear. The truth is, as I stepped up to receive the award it occurred to me there was not a stage big enough to hold all of the people who truly won this prize. Largely, the acts I was being recognized for, were not my own, but those of my fans, my friends and my family. It is for the people, who in the wake of my own personal struggle took on my cause and my fight to help the sick that I accepted last night's award. It is for the homespun charities and wristband projects, the light the night walkers, the many involved with our amnesty international efforts and those who continue to inspire me through the Dear Jack Foundation that I took the stage last night. Without you all there would be no award, there would be no work and there would be no movement to celebrate. I was beside myself to find that it was, in fact, the fans who voted to put me on stage last night. Thank you! In a category filled with incredible people who have devoted much of their lives to using their celebrity for good it astounds me that I was the one sent to collect. The work of every artist I was nominated with is so substantial and in truth I think it is one award show category that could not possibly have a winner or a loser. To be named next to a hero of mine like Eddie Vedder, who has devoted the past two years of his life to telling the story of a young soldier seems almost surreal, and speaks to the truth that this is not an award I keep but one I share. I share it with anyone who wakes up and looks for ways to make the world around them better and with those of you who deemed me worthy of such an honor. I am truly humbled.
Eddie Vedder
Humanitarian Work
For continued activism surrounding veteran issues, Bridge School benefit, PETA, and Children's music programs.
http://www.pearljam.com/activism/
Emmanuel Jal
"Gua Africa"
A former child soldier himself, he founded the organization to help communities overcome the effects of war and poverty.
http://www.guaafricaonline.com/
Ludacris
"The Ludacris Foundation"
Since 2001, the foundation has donated $500,000 to support grassroots organizations that help connect with youth to build stronger families and communities.
http://www.theludacrisfoundation.org/
Mary J Blige
"FFawn Foundation"
This new foundation's goal is to empower women through scholarships, grants and other educational resources, building confidence and career skills.
http://ourworld.ffawn.org/home.php
I wanted to take a quick second to correct a mistake in the credits on the back of the record. Bobby Raw, my dear friend and collaborator, was mistakenly left off the production credits on the back of the album. I take full responsibility for not picking up the omission and wanted to set it straight. As many of you know, Bob has been a big part of both Jack's albums, especially passenger and I couldn't be more thankful for his contributions. The next pressing will have the proper back cover credits and until then you can reference the liner note booklet for full production credits. That is if you're as big a geek as I am when I get a record :) Sorry B.
Get it, got it, good.
-Andrew
Los Angeles
Sep. 29 10:22 am
So much time has passed. I have these moments where I think to myself where are you, who are you, what day is it today? Time is lost on me. It always has been. To me, the most sensible thing about time is that the clock is a perfect circle. I keep coming back here; back to this place, but on a different day and with a different set of eyes. I read an old journal this morning. Nearly by accident, but not exactly. It had been lying there in my closet waiting for a home after a recent unpacking. Before I retired it to the drawer where I retire things, I gave it one last look. A page from another life. Same person, different day, different set of eyes, lighter pressure on the pen. A page full of certainty and also full of questions. It's always strange to read the things you've hoped for in the past because by now those hopes may be spoken for or gone, transformed or altogether forgotten. Like time, hope can be so senseless. It can carry us up mountains or lie us in the quicksand. But like time, hope is unstoppable, inevitable, and blind. Sometimes we travel fast, hurdling towards the unknown, sometimes the unknown comes hurdling towards us while we watch time standing still. All of this means very little I'm sure, but it felt like something when I sat down to write it.
Perhaps I've been wasting our time.
Good morning and thank you to everyone who is or will be checking out The Glass Passenger in the upcoming weeks. Your support is both felt and greatly appreciated. So glad to finally have it reach the light of day.
-Andrew
Here's a bit of some writings from this AM. Bit dark, but I'm digging it, I think.
The Wrecking Ball
When I finally find my way to the street it's barely noon. Atlanta, and the sweat it's bathed in, spill onto and around me, proving there is rarely justice for a night with no sleep. It's one of those afternoons. The kind that bleed from the dawn, from the midnight, from the sunset of the day before. Now, steeped in the simplicity of disconnect, I watch the window washers, the crane operators and cab drivers. The pink, perfect blossoms hang from branches of trees whose names I never took the time to learn. I wait for angels, but settle for coffee with cream and sugar instead. Anything to change a pulse.
The crane swings.
Pieces, pieces
Pieces of noble brick
Crumble
Helplessly, reborn as sand
A wrecking ball is a strange place to search for mercy.
Finished
Rest
Rehearse
Tour
Record
Repeat
.... See you at the Warped Tour!
it's 5:30 am and I have just arrived home from what I dare refer to as the final recording session for the upcoming glass passenger album. I could ramble on in a 100 different directions at this point, but I am tired and we begin mixing this afternoon so I will spare you all.
thirteen songs of the couple dozen or so recorded will be mixed in consideration for the final record. Several others including some you may have heard along the way (i.e. cell phone ) will be mixed soon after and be used as b sides and bonus tracks that should also be easily accessible to everyone.
These are the 13 contenders
Spinning
The So Unknown - Drop out
Caves
The Resolution
Annie Use Your Telescope
Crashin
Lullaby
Orphans
American Love
Swim
Bloodshot
What Gets You Off?
Suicide Blonde
I have found that searching for insight is more often than not a path to total darkness. Does this stop me from searching, or anyone of that matter, of course not. That said, the long road of the glass passenger seemed to merge this morning with the famed sunset strip, as a drive from L.A.'s Union Station unexpectedly brought clarity to this little album of mine. It's hard to really explain what making a record is like, or what it has come to represent in my eyes. In short, though, it is everything. With such an expectation I have come to realize that sometimes it is nearly impossible to let go and just let it be, to quote the great Paul McCartney. I'm trying though. And seemingly as winter has quickly become spring, confusion has without notice become insight. And with it, the end has finally revealed itself somewhere not far on the horizon. I haven't written much in this space over the past several months, maybe for fear that what had not yet revealed itself to me would color a page unsure. I would apologize as I have often done, but for once maybe no apology is in order. I have walked cautiously in public while trying to stretch continuously behind closed doors. I suppose this record will be the representation of those guarded sessions where my close friends and I, in noisy rooms, tried our very best to be our very best. Today on that drive that timed itself so well, from the train tracks at E. Cesar Chavez to the corner of Sunset And Doheny and then back through Silverlake, I finally heard this mess of music sound like a record. A sound I have tried so hard to hear for months without accepting that sometimes you just Don't know until the work is done. Whether it is totally there or not will take a little more time I suppose, but thank god for a Morning with no traffic. The roads don't open up too much around here and it couldn't have happened soon enough.
Don't hold me to the following (it always changes)
Annie Use Your Telescope
Suicide Blonde
The Resolution
American Love
Swim
What Gets You Off?
Spinning
Bloodshot
Lullaby
Caves
... Perhaps a bonus track
In Slow Motion (Sleazy Wednesday)
There is no world wrapping me up
I've got a view from the valley
And we're alive so lets drive, she says
"We'll bankrupt the blue skies"
Saw the post office from the book
On my way to the westside
Going broke but I'm feeling good
I brought my girl to keep me with it
She's a suicide blonde
Dyed bye her own hand
Suicide Blonde
A part of the big plan
Got a job at the DMV
And a call from my father
Got my news from the CNN
Like sheep to the slaughter
Saw the planes landing from the roof
Of my tree house in Burbank
Had that dream I was taking off
I brought my girl to keep me with
Suddenly it makes sense again. In no haze of mindfulness, staring down at this snow-covered quilt of America, I am the stars exploding. Voice shot down to hell, half sick, half recovered, alive and well and ready. The unknown for now will remain as such and in this moment that feeling is not one of suspension. It is the hopeful unknown. Reaching into the future could only be good now as the past is wrapping itself in ribbons and pleasant packing paper, rarely to be revisited. These years of heaven and hell in the belly of mortality's wait. This fierce time of self-doubt and confidence cracked. The vice/void solutions and dissolution of honor. Tracking along some dirt path to a forest of dead things where clearly I missed the 'no outlet' sign upon entry. All of this and somehow I have returned in a step-retrace for the record books. Fear is failing me now. Hope hides beneath fresh snow somewhere nearer sea level than I, at thirty three thousand feet, Michigan bound, by way of Chicago. But planes land and so do I, and suns rise, melting away the grounds cool protection. I am finally free, if only for this moment. And should that be the case, then know that I am throwing a parade in first class as I speak. Art has again saved my life, my love and me. What next? Who really cares? Certainly a toast will be in order. Make mine a double.
