Christmas in June

Little sweetheart, I have so long treasured your last Christmas present to me - the beautiful black leather jacket you gave me that December morning in 2010.

I've worn it almost every day since, even in quite warm weather and, sadly, the jacket had been showing signs of it. There had begun to be quite dramatic damage and tears to the leather particularly under the right arm. I'd been thinking about taking it somewhere but wasn't sure where to go.

When I was last out in NorCal seeing your parents, I told your mom about it and she thought maybe it could be patched, but when I actually showed it to her she thought it was too far gone. I'd very much underestimated its damage when telling her, I guess, because I didn't want it to be so. I stood there in the kitchen and cried and cried. But I didn't completely give up.

I looked up leather restoration places in NYC and found one that had been in business since 1930, and had really good reviews, over on Lexington Avenue. I sent them pictures and they told me to bring it in. Even they were shocked by the damage that looked worse in person than in photos. The woman there cautioned me that it was a very big job and would probably require replacing both arm panels. She asked if I'd ever wear it as a vest. That's how bleak things looked.

She could see how upset I was. I should've taken it off whenever I started sweating, I said. And I should've brought it in at the first sign of damage. But the lady was very kind, "you didn't do anything wrong", she said. "I'm not even sure we have this kind of leather, she added, but I don't know, let me see."

She went into the back and I felt like when you're at the doctor's office and waiting for the test results. She returned with a big piece of fabric. "We do have something!", she said. It was black and soft leather like your jacket. She said it was pigskin. Did I want to leave it and think about it over the weekend? It was 4:30pm and they were closing until Monday. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to call your mom. Finally, a bit lost, I said, okay, I'd leave it and think about it.

When I got home I told your mom. And I decided. There are so many things I can't change, little sweetheart. Things I would do anything to make right. But I can't. They're out of my control. But at least I could do this. I could try.

That was three weeks ago. Yesterday I got an email from them saying the jacket was completed, that it was beautiful and that she thought I would be thrilled. I walked over there this afternoon and it was true. The jacket is saved. It's perfect. No one would ever know there had been the slightest damage. They replaced both arm panels and it's impossible to discern they weren't the original. The lining is the same as it was but also completely mended without a trace of errant stitching. The cuffs have been redone and reinforced. And they treated the leather over all.

It's miraculous. Just like you, my miracle girl. I sent pictures to your mom and she agrees. I'll be more careful with it from now on but it is a treasure forever, as are you. Thank you, my love. Like Christmas in June.

Soaring! Ascension!

Little sweetheart, we got a surprise tonight. We thought the guys from the London radio show, Sonic Imperfections, on Resonance FM were going to play a track or two from Sometimes in Dreams, and we are assured that they will be in an upcoming program, but instead they played the closing track from our album, Dream Together - "To The Other Half of the Sky".

It's one of our most personal songs, little sweetheart, and nearly eleven minutes long. It took up quite a chunk of their broadcast. They said incredibly lovely things, too, calling it their favorite and saying it had been on their turntable at home for months.

One of the things that's so powerful about it, of course, is you, little sweetheart. Your soaring vocals, solo, open and close the song that builds and builds and builds and then slowly unwinds, ascending. Below is the video we assembled for it, for you.

I need you more than ever. With all my love...

Resonance FM - London

Little sweetheart, just got word - more London news - that we will be featured on London radio again this coming Monday June 24th. Back on London’s great Resonance FM.

Their experimental/post-rock program Sonic Imperfections will be featuring tracks from last year’s double-album, our 7th, Sometimes in Dreams.

The live broadcast goes out Monday night at 10pm UK time but it will also be archived and listenable on the station’s MixCloud. I’ll post that info after air.

You’re on the radio, little sweetheart - in London! Love you forever.

Sugar Fox

Little sweetheart, as I work as diligently and as best I can every day on the book, my desk is filled with open note books, scraps of paper, post-it’s, and scribbled notes reminding me of something I need to make sure to get down.

Aside from having the most unintelligible scrawl, impossible to decipher (excepting for you, so proudly an expert and discerning and reading my handwriting, the chief translator of my words to anyone listening), I don’t anyone could piece this thing together the way I have its contents laying abut everywhere. Part of my prayer every day for you, for us, is that, if possible, let me finish all I’m meant to do before I go (and gratefully join you) because no one else could make head or tail of this, I’m afraid.

One little note here, meant for inclusion in the chart about our time in Boston when you were doing the production of Rock n Roll up there, is Jack Willis overhearing you talking on the phone and explaining to someone how to spell Serafin.

I’d heard it many times but it was his inaugural one.

“Serafin”, you would say. “S’ as in ‘sugar’; ‘F’ as in fox”.

Shaking his head after you hung up, he smiled and said, “Sugar Fox. Of course. Of course…”

Damn straight, my gorgeous girl. Sugar fox, indeed. Love you forever.

On A Night Such As This

Little sweetheart, with London so in mind from both remembrances of our travels together and the current goings on there with the band, I’m reminded just now of a wonderful photo that Joy took of us your last night in Kentish Town.

We’re at The Boston Arms up near Tufnell Park and she snapped a shot just after I arrived, sliding into the booth with you and you, a bit tipsy on gin and tonics, gave me a big kiss.

What a lovely memory. What a wonderful picture. Love you forever.

Dark Outside

Little sweetheart, one of the upcoming London things is something Sylvia actually came across and let me know of. An experimental radio project in tandem with the London Borough of Culture is broadcasting a night of music - 24 hours - over the Summer Solstice and looking for unreleased material to premiere during the event.

It won’t be streamed or archived. You have to actually be within the transmission range of London’s 87.7fm. And the whole thing is coming from the woods of Waltham Forest. You would love this, little sweetheart! I wish we could actually attend.

But even though we won’t be there in person, I did compose, record, mix and submit a piece to be part of it. It’ll go out over the air sometime during the broadcast overnight on June 20th. It’s an exclusive for the project which is called The Dark Outside but we thinking of maybe releasing it later as a digital single, a limited release, possibly on Bandcamp.

As ever, one of your soaring archived vocals is at the center of the piece. You’re on the radio, little sweetheart, in a forest! With all my love forever…

London (Keeps) Calling

Little sweetheart, just after the news I was telling you a few days ago, we had occasion to hear about a couple of other London-centric things regarding the band, which I’ll tell you about in due course, of course!

But I’m also thinking how very fitting it is both because 11 years ago about this time is when you and I were first in London together and coincidentally I’ve been writing about that very trip at this point in the book over the last several days.


I won’t repeat everything there here but I am reminded, it’s so fresh in the memory, how wonderful it was to be there with you, walking around and visiting old haunts that had been my own and I so wanted to share.

On one of those many nights, walking along the Thames hand in hand, it struck me how terribly lonely I had been, maybe for my entire life until there was you. And coupled with the overwhelming feeling of love, holding your hand as we crossed the bridge I began to cry. And you held me and said, so very kindly, so very gently, so very wisely, “don’t start missing me yet, I’m right here”.

Yes, my little sweetheart. Quite right. I know you are. Closer than I can imagine. With all my love forever.

From London tonight...

Little sweetheart, we've gotten news of quite a lovely review of our album, Til Morning Is Nigh, from London tonight. The review is by Ed Pinsent -  the editor of the long-running UK music zine, The Sound Projector and presenter of the Friday night radio show of the same name on London's Resonance FM. An excerpt below. As always, for you, little sweetheart. All for you.

(excerpt):
NATIVITY GIFT
Bipolar Explorer - "Til Morning Is Nigh" (Slugg Records)
Review by Ed Pinsent, Editor

An unusual and touching album of songs and spoken word from Bipolar Explorer, a band in NYC calling themselves a “dreampop trio”…Til Morning Is Nigh: A Dream Of Christmas (SLUGG RECORDS) offers their versions of various old and obscure carols and Christmas songs from England and France, all sung in an extremely low-key DIY fashion not too far apart from the school of Sebadoh.
 
I’ve never been keen on the term “shoegaze” for this sort of introverted music, but Bipolar Explorer happily embrace it and wear it as a badge of pride. The album is interspersed with spoken word elements and recitation, all in French, all similarly unassuming – telling the Christmas story, in tones that are reassuring and sincere. The entire album is programmed to “segue”, meaning all 23 tracks are delivered in a continuous rush, and the aim is to create an impression of a radio broadcast “drifting over the late night airwaves”.
 
By now you may have formed an impression of the romantic and poetical sensibilities of Michael Serafin-Wells and Summer Serafin, plus their French protégé Sylvia Solanas (who joins them) with this new record that beguiles rather than overwhelms the listener.
 
Enchanted by dreams and dream-worlds, the themes of the oneiric life of slumberland and night visions regularly surface in their work. Indeed the album before this was called Sometimes In Dreams.
 
There’s a tragic dimension to the band’s history too, since band member Summer Serafin passed away in 2011, leaving partner Michael to carry on the project; and he’s pretty dedicated to preserving her memory, through photographs and texts – and even recordings of her voice, which continue to appear; she’s on this record.  He bears this tragedy with humility and acceptance.
 
Maybe tragedy is one of the hallmarks of Bipolar Explorer’s music; Michael himself nearly joined the angelic choir recently, suffering heart failure outside the hospital he’d just been released from, after being hit by a car.
 
Let’s hope he sticks around long enough to keep making music, as this album is a tiny gem; its simplicity can’t help but win you over, and its sincerity pours out of every moment. The record becomes mesmerizing and fascinating through repetition. In sum, voices, instruments and production all come together with lashings of heart and soul.
 
Intended to be heard all the year round, but now I’m looking forward to playing it at Christmas.
 
-Ed Pinsent
Editor, The Sound Projector - London



(Article in full here)