We're thrilled to announce our fourth studio album, ASTRONOMY MAN
11.2.2020
Support the record and Pre-Order now on Indigogo
11.2.2020
Support the record and Pre-Order now on Indigogo
Astronomy Man Album Review - by C.J. Quinn, an Astronomy Man in his own right...
“Yo, brother. Was wondering if you might be into reviewing our new album. Just finished it up. Could send over the Dropbox in a bit.”
This unsolicited mid-summer Facebook message from Skyfoot guitarist Tyler Arnott was a welcome streak of color across an otherwise grayscale landscape. 2020 has been a challenging year for all performance artists, but instead of lamenting world events, Arnott and his bandmates channeled this displaced energy into fine tuning the material they had amassed in a recent prolific burst of songwriting. Having experienced the overwhelming psychedelic assault that Skyfoot unleashed from the precipice of the enchanted hill at Harry Brown’s Farm at Skyfest 2019, I knew that this new album had the potential to rival the band’s previous studio high water mark that was established by their 2018 album “Blindly On Through”.
Despite these optimistic expectations, I found myself struggling to find words to effectively articulate the intensity of the creative quasar that was harnessed in studio by Warren Ammerman at Rotary Records as Skyfoot alchemized quarantine anxiety into cosmic musical bliss. The luminous energy of the forthcoming Skyfoot album “Astronomy Man” will leave you seeing spots if you look directly at its reactor core.
I generally pay little mind to the track list when I’m sent a download link to a freshly mastered batch of tunes. Good songs inherently have merit regardless of what comes before or after. Thankfully, I deviated from my pattern of indifference as I sorted the playlist. Unlike the mixed-bag aesthetic of many contemporary albums, “Astronomy Man” is not just a collection of songs. There is a continuum of consciousness hidden within the genetics of this album that can’t be effectively perceived unless it is experienced in its entirety and in the intended sequence. “Astronomy Man” comprises 11 songs, but it is a living, breathing organism that is greater than the sum of its parts. “Astronomy Man” is an entity unto itself. This is what an album is supposed to be.
“Astronomy Man'' is a journey. Like any epic journey, there is a comforting and disarming air of buoyancy as the bags are packed and the first steps are taken beyond the familiar confines of the Shire. James Taylor establishes the initial bass groove as keyboardist Eric McEwen layers piano and Hammond organ to flesh out the opening track “What’cha Gonna Do” over Aaron Morey’s clockwork rhythm. Contrasting the gleeful melody, the chorus “what’cha gonna do when it's all gone?” is a hauntingly appropriate inquiry, both within the confines of this album and in the larger context of personal and social uncertainty that is the calling card of the surreal moment in time from which this question is posed. The dark gravity of this reflection is immediately shattered by the first of many soaring jams as Arnott’s guitar has the tendency to evaporate the shackles that keep the studio recordings of many of his peers tethered to planet Earth.
The spotlight sweeps across the stage on the blues-infused second track “Lovin’ Kind” which highlights McEwen in all his joyous and light-hearted glory. Tapping into the clever paradox which defines many of his lyrics, he confides evasively to the object of his affection “I’ll be honest, I’ve been hiding the truth”. As the subdued energy of his hesitant courtship slowly builds to an unabashed crescendo, his vocals conspire with his Hammond organ to dare you not to smile and sing along. Before you can embarrass yourself too much, Arnott’s guitar finds another gear to drown out your off-key crooning. It’s easy to get lost in this country, however. While you were awash in pheromones and endorphins, you lost track of time and space. The buzzards circling overhead have a way of using the sun’s afternoon glare to evade your gaze on the clearest of days.
“It don’t matter where you’re from. Only matters where you’re going.” The opening sequence of slide guitar on “Follow Me Down” scoots up in the saddle to get in rhythm with the trot of the snare as I wake up from a daydream to find myself with a half-full canteen of water riding through the barren and rocky desert somewhere west of Alderaan. As Arnott’s rollicking lyrics hint of an impending existential threat as nebulous as the Blair Witch, it’s clear that we’re not in Kansas anymore. As is the custom of the square dance, the 6-string politely recedes into the shadow as Morey locks elbows with McEwen’s honky-tonk piano for a turn. Arnott deftly steps back into the pattern, followed by a high-pitched falsetto vocal that is nothing but a prelude to an ominous refrain. “Run while you still can.” Anyone that has ventured down this dusty psychedelic trail knows that once you realize you’re in Bat Country, it's already too late to be heeding warnings.
Once we surrender to the fact that there’s no turning back in this life, we realize that there is no realistic choice but to embrace the adventure. “Someday” is that sign on the trail at which the arrow has fallen off the post and there’s nothing left to do but smile because somebody kicked the map into the creek in a moment of crisis. These are the crossroads where it occurs to us that the destination has been unknown all along. Taylor’s exquisite basslines bob and weave around a rhythm that has ample room for Morey loosen up and let it fly. In another clever lyric that can be viewed through several lenses, the refrain “someday you ain’t gotta worry about life no more” is both a reminder to maintain some levity in our day-to-day routine while providing a subtle acknowledgement of the inherent impermanence of our existence. The complex layers of texture and symbolism that this band applies to their songwriting reveal a new depth with every listen.
Skyfoot really takes the gloves off on the epic and multi-faceted dream-within-a-dream that is the fifth track “Take Time”. McEwen sings over an upbeat boot-scooting country groove that weaves lightning fast finger picking banjo with an adrenalized rhythm that leaves nobody at the controls of a runaway train hurtling into the darkness. Slowly, the linear qualities of the experience become unreliable as lysergic forces dissolve the tracks and the engine morphs into butterflies that spiral into fractal patterns as Alice tumbles hopelessly into the rabbit hole. Within this formless ether, Taylor’s bass echoes like whale songs as we sink deeper and deeper into the tar pits. Just as the blackness envelops us, we are launched jarringly back out of the nitrous warp into the climax of the double-time groove that now seems as much of a distant memory as a moment that we never left. “Take Time” is a true Abbey Road Studios type of experience, in and of itself. That said, we are only acclimating to the altitude as the summit of the peak somehow still looms ahead.
I am not certain what the secret ingredients are at the Skyfoot brain candy factory, but “Everybody Have A Good Time Tonight” features double-doses of ALL of them. Having spent the entirety of the 90’s shrouded in patchwork corduroy whilst laser beaming innocent bystanders with my fingertips, this brand of downtempo uberfunk is in my DNA. This song is pure bliss from start to finish. “You shan’t be alone when you’re in the zone”. With intent, the lyrics allow the groove to be entirely unencumbered by the weight of the world. The restraint of the tempo provides ample room for infinite iterations of style and variety within a structure that could be jammed for an hour without ever getting stale. “Everybody Have A Good Time Tonight” is the kind of song that clearly states its purpose, and delivers in a manner that can be universally appreciated by essentially anyone that has a pulse and is rumored to have the potential to revive a few that do not. 100% pure. Superfly. “Feelin’ all right”.
Having left our cowboy boots back on the dusty trail and our Airwalks on the floor of the arena, we strap into our spacesuits and decompress in preparation to launch into the void, powered by the album’s title track “Astronomy Man”. McEwen reminds us of our birthright purpose to explore to the outer limits of our collective imagination as we come to understand the galaxy that resides within us by courageously acknowledging the dark majesty of the infinity of all that exists beyond us. Skyfoot has a rare ability to deliver the listener to spaces that facilitate genuine spiritual insight without attempting to convey the message directly. Utilizing playful lyrics that poke fun at the concept of the modern-day American renaissance man, “Astronomy Man” delivers our consciousness to a place of weightlessness and freedom without any hint of pretentiousness or irony. From this altitude, we can look down and come to perceive that all the angst and strife that we immerse ourselves in during our daily routine is insignificant when viewed from a higher perspective. As the structure of the song dissolves into something formless, ground control transmissions provide a backdrop upon which a cosmic lullaby plays the soundtrack to which we can all come to our own conclusions about our place in this universe.
Once we’ve achieved the zenith of our space flight, our trajectory follows the arc of our surrender to gravity as the capsule hurtles quickly back to Earth and splashes down somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. Leaving our Moon Boots on the muddy shores of the bayou, we follow the energetic Dixieland sounds into the streets of New Orleans. Driven by Taylor’s slippery and elusive basslines, “Tumble” is a boozy jaunt into the heart of excess and southern hospitality. “If your speech begins to mumble, right down to the bottom you will tumble”. Arnott and McEwen pirouette around each other in an extended jam that reminds us of what a blessing it is to have our feet planted back on the ground as we get down with our Earthbound companions.
As the fog clears, Skyfoot delivers a truly special and unexpected acapella interlude. Utilizing gorgeous 4-part vocal harmony, “Hilltop” is a proclamation of gratitude for this life that is more than mildly reminiscent of a brand of Americana past that is inextricably woven into the fabric of who we are today. It is a song of revelation and redemption. It is a song of hope that reminds us that salvation could be just around the corner, even when it feels like the chips are down.
The opening notes of “Mighty Mo” harness the residual evangelical essence of the previous track and build into a tangible acknowledgement of the majestic elements of this country that many of us have come to take for granted in this age of political pettiness and cynicism. McEwen’s lyrics are on the surface a love song to the Missouri River, but on a deeper level are a nod to the joys of the American experience and to the resilience of the human spirit.
The final track of the album is a poignant gesture of grace and threadbare honesty. “Spoke” is an ode of appreciation for the struggles that we eventually come to realize have galvanized our character while planting the seeds of empathy from which meaningful personal and social change can be harvested. Crafted in the aesthetic of a traditional gospel hymn, a timeless message emerges from the melody with a subdued but proud humility to punctuate the songwriting masterpiece that is “Astronomy Man”. Arnott’s vocals flow with a sincerity that pays homage to our collective divinity while confessing a vulnerability that invites forgiveness for the inherent imperfection of our personal humanity. As the sounds of the organ rise from within the chapel of our self-doubt, we are granted the means to transcend the confines of our individuality and become one with the eternal source from which we were spawned. At the end of the day, we are all in this together and it is wiser to embrace those that are in harmony with our destiny than try to impart our will on those that are not yet ready to surrender to the undeniable truth.
“Just sit back, let it happen
Nothing we can do but wait for action
Now I watched it all from down below
Born of a vehicle, in the wheel, you’re just a spoke
Spires of light and holy space
Spattered horn of angels sing
Moving at a speed unknown
Feelings of the past rest on a steel throne
Now to see it all from up above
Towering sensations in the clouds of old
In the wheel, you’re just a spoke.”
This unsolicited mid-summer Facebook message from Skyfoot guitarist Tyler Arnott was a welcome streak of color across an otherwise grayscale landscape. 2020 has been a challenging year for all performance artists, but instead of lamenting world events, Arnott and his bandmates channeled this displaced energy into fine tuning the material they had amassed in a recent prolific burst of songwriting. Having experienced the overwhelming psychedelic assault that Skyfoot unleashed from the precipice of the enchanted hill at Harry Brown’s Farm at Skyfest 2019, I knew that this new album had the potential to rival the band’s previous studio high water mark that was established by their 2018 album “Blindly On Through”.
Despite these optimistic expectations, I found myself struggling to find words to effectively articulate the intensity of the creative quasar that was harnessed in studio by Warren Ammerman at Rotary Records as Skyfoot alchemized quarantine anxiety into cosmic musical bliss. The luminous energy of the forthcoming Skyfoot album “Astronomy Man” will leave you seeing spots if you look directly at its reactor core.
I generally pay little mind to the track list when I’m sent a download link to a freshly mastered batch of tunes. Good songs inherently have merit regardless of what comes before or after. Thankfully, I deviated from my pattern of indifference as I sorted the playlist. Unlike the mixed-bag aesthetic of many contemporary albums, “Astronomy Man” is not just a collection of songs. There is a continuum of consciousness hidden within the genetics of this album that can’t be effectively perceived unless it is experienced in its entirety and in the intended sequence. “Astronomy Man” comprises 11 songs, but it is a living, breathing organism that is greater than the sum of its parts. “Astronomy Man” is an entity unto itself. This is what an album is supposed to be.
“Astronomy Man'' is a journey. Like any epic journey, there is a comforting and disarming air of buoyancy as the bags are packed and the first steps are taken beyond the familiar confines of the Shire. James Taylor establishes the initial bass groove as keyboardist Eric McEwen layers piano and Hammond organ to flesh out the opening track “What’cha Gonna Do” over Aaron Morey’s clockwork rhythm. Contrasting the gleeful melody, the chorus “what’cha gonna do when it's all gone?” is a hauntingly appropriate inquiry, both within the confines of this album and in the larger context of personal and social uncertainty that is the calling card of the surreal moment in time from which this question is posed. The dark gravity of this reflection is immediately shattered by the first of many soaring jams as Arnott’s guitar has the tendency to evaporate the shackles that keep the studio recordings of many of his peers tethered to planet Earth.
The spotlight sweeps across the stage on the blues-infused second track “Lovin’ Kind” which highlights McEwen in all his joyous and light-hearted glory. Tapping into the clever paradox which defines many of his lyrics, he confides evasively to the object of his affection “I’ll be honest, I’ve been hiding the truth”. As the subdued energy of his hesitant courtship slowly builds to an unabashed crescendo, his vocals conspire with his Hammond organ to dare you not to smile and sing along. Before you can embarrass yourself too much, Arnott’s guitar finds another gear to drown out your off-key crooning. It’s easy to get lost in this country, however. While you were awash in pheromones and endorphins, you lost track of time and space. The buzzards circling overhead have a way of using the sun’s afternoon glare to evade your gaze on the clearest of days.
“It don’t matter where you’re from. Only matters where you’re going.” The opening sequence of slide guitar on “Follow Me Down” scoots up in the saddle to get in rhythm with the trot of the snare as I wake up from a daydream to find myself with a half-full canteen of water riding through the barren and rocky desert somewhere west of Alderaan. As Arnott’s rollicking lyrics hint of an impending existential threat as nebulous as the Blair Witch, it’s clear that we’re not in Kansas anymore. As is the custom of the square dance, the 6-string politely recedes into the shadow as Morey locks elbows with McEwen’s honky-tonk piano for a turn. Arnott deftly steps back into the pattern, followed by a high-pitched falsetto vocal that is nothing but a prelude to an ominous refrain. “Run while you still can.” Anyone that has ventured down this dusty psychedelic trail knows that once you realize you’re in Bat Country, it's already too late to be heeding warnings.
Once we surrender to the fact that there’s no turning back in this life, we realize that there is no realistic choice but to embrace the adventure. “Someday” is that sign on the trail at which the arrow has fallen off the post and there’s nothing left to do but smile because somebody kicked the map into the creek in a moment of crisis. These are the crossroads where it occurs to us that the destination has been unknown all along. Taylor’s exquisite basslines bob and weave around a rhythm that has ample room for Morey loosen up and let it fly. In another clever lyric that can be viewed through several lenses, the refrain “someday you ain’t gotta worry about life no more” is both a reminder to maintain some levity in our day-to-day routine while providing a subtle acknowledgement of the inherent impermanence of our existence. The complex layers of texture and symbolism that this band applies to their songwriting reveal a new depth with every listen.
Skyfoot really takes the gloves off on the epic and multi-faceted dream-within-a-dream that is the fifth track “Take Time”. McEwen sings over an upbeat boot-scooting country groove that weaves lightning fast finger picking banjo with an adrenalized rhythm that leaves nobody at the controls of a runaway train hurtling into the darkness. Slowly, the linear qualities of the experience become unreliable as lysergic forces dissolve the tracks and the engine morphs into butterflies that spiral into fractal patterns as Alice tumbles hopelessly into the rabbit hole. Within this formless ether, Taylor’s bass echoes like whale songs as we sink deeper and deeper into the tar pits. Just as the blackness envelops us, we are launched jarringly back out of the nitrous warp into the climax of the double-time groove that now seems as much of a distant memory as a moment that we never left. “Take Time” is a true Abbey Road Studios type of experience, in and of itself. That said, we are only acclimating to the altitude as the summit of the peak somehow still looms ahead.
I am not certain what the secret ingredients are at the Skyfoot brain candy factory, but “Everybody Have A Good Time Tonight” features double-doses of ALL of them. Having spent the entirety of the 90’s shrouded in patchwork corduroy whilst laser beaming innocent bystanders with my fingertips, this brand of downtempo uberfunk is in my DNA. This song is pure bliss from start to finish. “You shan’t be alone when you’re in the zone”. With intent, the lyrics allow the groove to be entirely unencumbered by the weight of the world. The restraint of the tempo provides ample room for infinite iterations of style and variety within a structure that could be jammed for an hour without ever getting stale. “Everybody Have A Good Time Tonight” is the kind of song that clearly states its purpose, and delivers in a manner that can be universally appreciated by essentially anyone that has a pulse and is rumored to have the potential to revive a few that do not. 100% pure. Superfly. “Feelin’ all right”.
Having left our cowboy boots back on the dusty trail and our Airwalks on the floor of the arena, we strap into our spacesuits and decompress in preparation to launch into the void, powered by the album’s title track “Astronomy Man”. McEwen reminds us of our birthright purpose to explore to the outer limits of our collective imagination as we come to understand the galaxy that resides within us by courageously acknowledging the dark majesty of the infinity of all that exists beyond us. Skyfoot has a rare ability to deliver the listener to spaces that facilitate genuine spiritual insight without attempting to convey the message directly. Utilizing playful lyrics that poke fun at the concept of the modern-day American renaissance man, “Astronomy Man” delivers our consciousness to a place of weightlessness and freedom without any hint of pretentiousness or irony. From this altitude, we can look down and come to perceive that all the angst and strife that we immerse ourselves in during our daily routine is insignificant when viewed from a higher perspective. As the structure of the song dissolves into something formless, ground control transmissions provide a backdrop upon which a cosmic lullaby plays the soundtrack to which we can all come to our own conclusions about our place in this universe.
Once we’ve achieved the zenith of our space flight, our trajectory follows the arc of our surrender to gravity as the capsule hurtles quickly back to Earth and splashes down somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. Leaving our Moon Boots on the muddy shores of the bayou, we follow the energetic Dixieland sounds into the streets of New Orleans. Driven by Taylor’s slippery and elusive basslines, “Tumble” is a boozy jaunt into the heart of excess and southern hospitality. “If your speech begins to mumble, right down to the bottom you will tumble”. Arnott and McEwen pirouette around each other in an extended jam that reminds us of what a blessing it is to have our feet planted back on the ground as we get down with our Earthbound companions.
As the fog clears, Skyfoot delivers a truly special and unexpected acapella interlude. Utilizing gorgeous 4-part vocal harmony, “Hilltop” is a proclamation of gratitude for this life that is more than mildly reminiscent of a brand of Americana past that is inextricably woven into the fabric of who we are today. It is a song of revelation and redemption. It is a song of hope that reminds us that salvation could be just around the corner, even when it feels like the chips are down.
The opening notes of “Mighty Mo” harness the residual evangelical essence of the previous track and build into a tangible acknowledgement of the majestic elements of this country that many of us have come to take for granted in this age of political pettiness and cynicism. McEwen’s lyrics are on the surface a love song to the Missouri River, but on a deeper level are a nod to the joys of the American experience and to the resilience of the human spirit.
The final track of the album is a poignant gesture of grace and threadbare honesty. “Spoke” is an ode of appreciation for the struggles that we eventually come to realize have galvanized our character while planting the seeds of empathy from which meaningful personal and social change can be harvested. Crafted in the aesthetic of a traditional gospel hymn, a timeless message emerges from the melody with a subdued but proud humility to punctuate the songwriting masterpiece that is “Astronomy Man”. Arnott’s vocals flow with a sincerity that pays homage to our collective divinity while confessing a vulnerability that invites forgiveness for the inherent imperfection of our personal humanity. As the sounds of the organ rise from within the chapel of our self-doubt, we are granted the means to transcend the confines of our individuality and become one with the eternal source from which we were spawned. At the end of the day, we are all in this together and it is wiser to embrace those that are in harmony with our destiny than try to impart our will on those that are not yet ready to surrender to the undeniable truth.
“Just sit back, let it happen
Nothing we can do but wait for action
Now I watched it all from down below
Born of a vehicle, in the wheel, you’re just a spoke
Spires of light and holy space
Spattered horn of angels sing
Moving at a speed unknown
Feelings of the past rest on a steel throne
Now to see it all from up above
Towering sensations in the clouds of old
In the wheel, you’re just a spoke.”
