This Patch of Sky

I've never made any attempt at hiding my arousal for instrumental music. After having been in band upon band upon band, I always seemed to appreciate the unabashed joy I felt when there was no attempt at vocalizing anything. When communication took a turn for the jam and all of our eyes locked onto each others, it was almost an invitation to communicate by merely shutting the Fuck up and letting whatever instrument you were manning do the communicating for you.

Many times you'd look to your bandmate and his eyes would be closed, or staring off into space, or to the floor, and you could assume at that particular time it was completely acceptable to go wherever it is you left off in your subconscious last. Some of my favorite musical memories from some of the largest shows I've ever performed at are incapable of being put into words because they're feelings. Just feelings.

And I'm not bullshitting when I say maybe one or two out of hundreds of memories involved the words of a singer.

Your own personal insecurities about your own playing don't mean shit when you're somehow on the same page with two or three or four or more people without having to say anything. For those that understand exactly what I'm talking about, you understand exactly what I'm talking about. For those of you who have never played an instrument with other people and felt something you can't really explain, I won't attempt to explain all of it, but I will tell you that it's sort of what people who have played music chase for the rest of their lives after having experienced it that first time.

People who work with those with substance abuse issues can describe graphically how the first time you hit something you feel it 110%, and it's life changing. Your entire physiology changes around the effects of that substance, and then each subsequent time it takes more and more of the substance to just feel normal, you'll never hit that 110% again even if you try with all of your wallet to buy ALL OF THE DRUG and all of your might to use ALL OF THE DRUG.

See, what no self respecting drug dealer will tell you is that the only fucking drug on the planet where you can hit that 110% more often than not, is music (or Choose Your Own Adventure books bro, c'mon).

This Patch of Sky have sort of been that 110% for me for the past few years. I don't listen to them all of the time, because I don't need that feel all of the time, but like my favorite titty mag, it will always be there when I need it. Even when I'm not listening to This Patch of Sky, the mere mention of their name can give me that internal smirk that will put me right back into the chair I was sitting in the first time their music hit me with that 110%.

shit, even their fucking name is something I hold pretty personal, as if it was made just the Fuck for me. This small patch of sky in this small frame of reality I can see through and call my own is all fucking mine. We all have our own small patches of sky, but like your rifle bro, this one's mine. As corny as that might sound, if you've heard TPoS before, you get it already.

This Patch of Sky hit me on both fronts, as their music is my own personal soundtrack, but holy balls on a genuflecting eunuch the feels these fuckers throw out in their music reminds me of why I kept barking up that musician tree for as long as I did. The intra-musical conversations these guys are having with each other on record are some of the most genuinely respectful and beautiful I've ever heard. You can throw in any synonym for grace you'd like, and each time you tried to think of another one, the bearded happy man with the instrument that's crafting the music that's making you feel thankful just for being alive will smile and nod, it's almost like TPoS is a band of happy fucking Santas and shit bro.

The album these jagbags just dropped is self titled, and for good reason, this album is This Patch of Sky in a delicately sketched nutshell. It's introspective, runs the gamut from hushed to full on exhilarating, it goes where you would expect a post rock album to go but in such a patiently grand fashion I almost feel that describing every emotion it touches would do it a disservice to those who have never had a band make an album just for them.

Oh yeah, not sure if I mentioned this yet, but This Patch of Sky made this album for me. Oh you can totes listen to it and buy it and tell all your friends about it and take credit for turning people into This Patch of Sky fiends (I like to welcome friends to the Soul Patch because that's where all TPoS fans reside subconsciously, no matter how cheesy that sounds), but let's just remember I've got my pinky in the right rear jeans pocket of This Patch of Sky. We're going steady bro. We neck outside the diner after football games on Friday nights bro. This Patch of Sky just bought me a malt and gave me their cherry so I had two cherries instead of just the one cherry that came in my malt bro. This Patch of Sky's parents and my parents are in the same bowling league so when we eventually get hitched the rehearsal dinner will be totes themed around a bowling alley bro.

YES, I AM LE RAMBLING.

I'm rambling on about the new This Patch of Sky album because it's made me happy in a way I can only remember a few other musical experiences have made me happy.

On that front, This Patch of Sky is like seeing Sigur Ros in concert, where you're completely invested in letting someone else drive the feels, but you have expectations, as you paid out the ass for these tickets, YOU ARE FEELING SOMETHING NO MATTER TWAT. Thankfully, every time I've put the pressure on This Patch of Sky to deliver something to my subself, they have. And what they've consistently delivered is just this strange feeling of thanks.

I'm thankful for music that is this gorgeous because with all the bullshit going on around us, the luxury we all have of being able to push a right facing triangle and then turn a round knob to the right and shut our eyes for a few minutes of music therapy is unbelievably awesome. To be able to escape completely and not actually puss out and physically run away is a gift I've taken advantage of too many times to count, and This Patch of Sky hath gifted me an out quite often over the last few years.

From a listening standpoint, there's no denying the drumming on this album is some of the most "BALLS" one can imagine from a concert-goer's standpoint. The fact that each strike of each drum almost sounds like a theatrical production is huge. Seriously, This Patch of Sky doesn't have a drummer, they have a fucking war drummer. You can't just picture these drums being struck, you imagine them being struck with a purple light shining from behind the drummer, as he theatrically raises his hands over his head before bringing them down with such furor it's obvious the dude can only use actual lambskin drumheads, and ONLY from lambs he himself has sacrificed. Each song where your attention slightly veers off from hearing the band as a whole puts you face to face with the drumming of a beast that sounds like the dude is standing on a cliff using the thigh bones of the lambs he's slaughtered to create his drumheads themselves as drumsticks. It's all very chic caveman bro. But this caveman's wearing a fitbit, because 2014 and because cardiovascular health is a priority bro.

BUT THAT CELLO THO. The introductory track on this album is titled "Prelude" but I've changed the title in my iTunes to "Just Came", because honestly, a cellist dropping a subtle barchord with such fervor gave me goosebumps that lasted all day the first time I heard it. For a gentle prelude to an album to be just as important to the complete makeup of the album on the whole is crazy, but once you've heard the cello on its own, you'll be chasing the chance to pick it out of the crowd for the rest of the album. This cello shit is fucking bonkers, and I say that with complete respect, because the more and more I listen to this band, the more I'm convinced the cello in This Patch of Sky is the rug that ties the whole room together. The way they capture the woodsy essence of the instrument is unreal. It's like they've managed to actually record the actual ethereal wood grain of the spruce tuned to fifths of the cello. This Patch of Sky are cello soul snatchers bro.

We can guess these guys in This Patch of Sky all read huge leather bound books and shit, and they all rock well-worn denim and perfectly complementary colors and patterns of plaid, but after spending hours upon hours with this album, I'd like to think their decision making abilities as it pertains to song construction is their most impressive collective trait.

This is the album you buy before you buy all of their other albums and then after you've bought all of their other albums you start finding other ways of supporting the band. How am I supporting the band after having all of their albums?

I've shaved a two inch square patch on my mons pubis and written backwards in purple sharpie marker "SKY", and I point to it routinely.

I love this band. Thank you for existing TPoS bros.