Renata Youngblood Music: News & Muse

ORPHEUS

Then there were the songs. I would hear him letting out beats and prisons in the quiet of his self-imposed exile. Freeing himself from a world that would surely drown him otherwise. And I felt tantalizingly liberated in my invisibility. Hiding in plain sight for he was entirely blind in those days.

I dreaded the day when he would regain his sight. Fearful that the songs would end and I would be left with a lump of flesh no longer recognizable.

And just like blindness, cheating the shadows of light, he would use his percipient interpretations to create a world all his own, that everyone found familiar once in view. Shouting his politics. Whispering his ideologies that were compellingly anachronistic. Somehow folding you into his perfectly flawed Utopia. Contradictions and all. Finding a safety you know does not exist, yet you are willingly deceived.

And this was the beauty of his gift.

I took to calling him Orpheus when I knew he could not hear me. Screaming his name across continents. Subjecting myself to profound humiliation in hopes of hearing just one more creation. One more composition to assuage my muses.

Though there is a good deal of distance between us now, I am still in tune with his working art. It persuades me from my indolence at times when movement seems oppressive and challenges my complacency.

I only hope a man so blind should never see again.

Note from Renata:

Dear friends,

While I am currently on a bit of a writing hiatus: writing songs for the next album as well as indulging in other literary aspirations I have, I've decided to post some of these writings here. Most of these are either poems of a sort or, what I like to call, small stories.

I have posted these below and they are dated according to when they were created.

You may also notice in these writings that I am a most nerd-like bookworm. Therefore, should any of you have literary suggestions for my reading pleasure, I would MOST appreciate any input on your part. You can email me from the 'contact' page of this website.

Please feel free to also send me any comments or thoughts you have. I miss the stage but this is something I've wanted to do for some time so I feel so lucky to have the time to do so.

xo

Sincerely,
Renata

"This is your captain speaking..." The steward is making his rounds. I've never seen such a large man working as a steward before and I wonder if the narrow isles of our airbus irritate him.

"Could I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, please, vodka and cranberry please." I don't know why I am always saying please twice. I feel awkward asking people to do things for me.

Poor Kim is deathly ill in the seat next to me and I'm hoping that the next twelve hours don't completely do her in. I am also curious as to why she insisted on the window seat when she has been 'losing her cookies' for the past two days, but I am not about to argue with a nauseated woman.

A sweet, old man is sitting in the isle seat to the right of me. His wife is on the other side of the cabin and he is watching her to make sure she is settled.

"I'm sorry that you are not seated together." I am a compulsive apologizer. "Would you like me to trade seats with her so that you can be together?"

"Oh, no." says the sweet old man, "We requested different seats. She needs more leg room than I and after 52 years of marriage, we're not too concerned with seating assignments anymore. I read that book a long time ago. How do you like it?"

I glance at my book in delay, not forgetting I was holding it, but surprised by the question. 'Atlas Shrugged' by Ayn Rand. I am in the last two hundred pages of the bible-sized book (a book whose popularity is second only to that OF the bible... at least in most of North America) and smile at the finding of another literate friend.

"I do. Very much. Did you enjoy it as well?" He has warm eyes and though it is not entirely comfortable at this close proximity, seated side-by-side, we lock in perceptive and intelligent eye contact. I smile without showing my teeth.

"I remember valuing her particular take on capitalism at the time. But I was younger then and have forgotten a lot of the ideas I had so long ago. Now I don't read much at all but I do remember John Galt." Once again I smile. Once again I don't show my teeth.

His eyes are pools of memories and I can see the things he does not wish to remember swimming in them.

Many moments pass before I leave the pools long enough to gather words to express my take on the philosophy of Ms. Rand. I want to ask him other, more personal questions. Questions about his pool-eyes, but he is a stranger and it is safer to stick to literature. For now.

"I appreciate her vivid characterizations who exist within the realm of her objectivist philosophy." As I open my book to the back page to read the quote of Rand's that is printed there I am telling him why I am so inspired by her ideas. I talk too much when I am excited.

"'My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.'" ~Ayn Rand

As I finish reading the quote the steward who is too large for the isles has returned with a tiny bottle of Smirnoff and a plastic cup with red liquid on ice. I smile. This time I show my teeth.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." I am a compulsive thanker as well.

Once the plane completes her ascent and Kim has paid her dues to the mile-high vomitorium a couple of times, she lapses into (what I can only hope is) a bordering state of comatose. She looks tiny and fragile to me, sleeping so still, and I feel guilty for my health.

We have had a rough journey in Europe having been robbed in Dublin and her purse lifted in London, and I hope that we will still be as close of friends after this trip as we were before. Friendships are never the same once you've experienced loss together. Some friendships never recover. I think Kim and I will be OK. Once we sleep for at least seventy-two hours. She is so little. She is so still. And I love her.

The lights in the cabin are dim and the babies must be sleeping because all I hear is the roar of the engines. The sweet old man gets up to go check on his wife while the steward who is too large for the isles returns to ask if I would like another drink.

"I love that book." He says. I must have picked this book from the 'most likely to start random conversations' section of the bookstore. "How 'bout another drink?"

"That would be lovely." I haven't forsaken my pseudo Irish accent just yet. I am sad to be leaving and am trying to hold on to whatever I can of this part of the world I love so much, robberies notwithstanding.

The steward who is too large for the isles returns with his hands full of tiny Smirnoff bottles. He drops them judiciously into my bag that is standing open at my feet and simultaneously dips into his cart to hand me a large bottle of cranberry juice. I smile in spite of my perplexity. I show more teeth than is appropriate for the discreet gesture. I say 'thank you.' Twice.

I drink until the words I am reading begin to do semi circles in a counter-clockwise direction and then I go to sleep. With the little girl I love on my left. And the sweet old man on my right. I dream about western european accents and the smell of pubs in rural Ireland.

I knew where it would take me and I went there anyway. Embracing the fall and the journey to it. From the precipice I could see the demise of those who thought they were impervious to the elements. There was a small prick of anxiety in my chest and a helplessness in my knees, but my shoulders kept the machine in motion.

It takes water, pressure and minerals to create this sort of flesh. Such an advanced and complex ecosystem all breathing as one formidable being. And here we stand, you and I, almost feeling the bend of earth as the adrenaline wanes. Dripping with endorphins. Staggering with drunken approbation.

It is strange to me that we are disconnected from this garden almost all of our breathing days. I have seen rain fall from the rocks. The whore of a river will change from dormancy to rage in moments, yet I can't seem to move any faster.

The evolution seems to be partially fractured. I have seen it all through eyes I must have borrowed, bones that are on loan who creak and feign their sanction.

Kierkegaard must have known just what this feels like but all I have to read is Thoreau. And that is why I stand here wondering where the earth ends and I begin or if there is any distinction between the two at all.

I am not religious, but I believe in Zion.

There were plenty of paths to choose from. I saw the apprehension in her eyes even as she made her hasty decision.

"The best thing to do is to keep moving. The best thing to do is to keep moving." She said while I was busy trying to grab hold of the thread of thought I was grappling with all afternoon.

Some would have said we were lost, seeing as we were not exactly sure where we were on the mountain, but we weren't at all concerned with our geographic coordinates. According to the sun, who was making her westward descent, we were headed north and that was all we needed to know. How lost could we be on an island anyway? Sooner or later we were bound to end up on the shore somewhere.

I don't care where we are as long as we're here. I don't care where we are as long as we're here.

"When you're up here, like this, so secluded, do you ever imagine you're existing before... before all- this? Before the white man came. Before the missionaries came to teach christianity; that spiritual decoy designed to keep them busy while stealing the land from under them?"

I do. That's what I've been wrestling with. Seems to me, they were doing just fine before the skyscrapers and commerce. Before governmental strategies. Before the World Wars, the Navy, the PCC, the Universities. But I guess I'll never know as a white girl. I'm only lucky enough to know the beauty of this place BECAUSE of all the changes that have taken place over the past one hundred years. Is it wrong to be grateful for something even though I oppose the tactics that brought about its' realization?

"No." She said.

"'No' you DON'T imagine what it was like before?"

"I mean, no, it's not wrong to be grateful, you little haole-girl."

I am always amazed when she does that.

I am always amazed when she does that.

I've begun this blog of dreams because I've been having an extraordinary amount of them lately. I relish dreaming, even (and especially) the ones that shake me up a bit. They are not always clear and in writing them down I have found that I tend to refine the descriptions to what I perceive, in consciousness, the dream to have contained. You know that fuzzy-around-the-edges sort of dreaming that you try to recall even in the first moments of waking? This is where my embellishments take place. I liken it to the way a psychologist may try to determine the purpose of a clients dream with the distinction that I am not trying to find a purpose. I actually don't believe that dreams say much about our psyche. I think they are just random thoughts, sights, sounds, memories and emotions that our subconscious puts into a sort of 'stew'... I use this word in both its' definitions.

Most of what I dream has to do with the people in my life. I usually see them in unordinary situations, sometimes opposed to, or aside from, my waking judgments and I wake wondering 'where did that come from?' But the dreams I love the most are the ones where I am experiencing something that I have always wanted to experience and the emotions I feel seem to be magnified to some sort of unearthly level.

I had one such dream when I was a very young girl. I must have been seven or eight years old and just beginning to have amorous feelings for boys. I had little crushes here and there on different boys in my neighborhood and school but I was much too shy to ever act upon them. Some friends of mine had the courage to 'ask out' the subject of their current devotion (devotions which would change weekly if not sooner). This didn't mean they actually went anywhere, they were just 'going out.' There was a social appeal to the term; many fellow classmates coveted this sort of relationship status, but underneath the pressures of elementary social life it all seemed very silly to me. My personal childhood fantasy was of finding my one true and everlasting love. I know, you don't need to say it.

This dream that I had during said period of my life was nothing extraordinary as far as vision goes. I recall it taking place in the parking lot of a local drugstore (mind you, I have no idea what the implication is there), but the feeling of the dream was something extraordinary! I was with a faceless and nameless man whom I was vividly in love with. He was opening the drivers' side door of a red car for me. We must have both been of driving age (something that seemed light years away at the age of seven) for I remember I was going to drive us somewhere but instead of entering the car I paused to looked at him. We were standing very close to each other, something I had yet to experience with a boy; standing close enough to feel the breath of another. I don't even remember what he looked like aside from the fact that he had dark hair, but what I could never forget was the feeling of love I had for the man- boy- man- whatever. That was it. That was the entire dream.

I awoke from the Saturday morning sunlight streaming through the east window of my bedroom feeling a poignant disappointment from the abrupt departure of an experience that I wished (an intense, longing sort of wish) to be a reality.

For the subsequent days following this dream I lived in a somewhat disconnected bliss. Every night before falling asleep I would pray (literally pray, as though God had anything to do with it, but give me a break! I was seven-some-odd years old. I didn't know... I was willing to try anything) to have that dream one more time. Of course, I never did. I tried to explain the feeling to one of my step-sisters (I had five of them so I wouldn't remember which one it was at the time. Probably Debbie since she was the one I told my secrets to) and though she tried to empathize, she really had no idea how a dream could effect me for so long.

So, I guess I've always had a bit of a fascination with the life in semiconsciousness. Maybe it has something to do with that fact that, when it comes right down to it, I'm just a hopeless dreamer.

thub-dub - thub-dub - thub-dub

the sound of the old train echos my beating heart. there was a woman at the last stop hesitating. the silence of her questioning was astonishingly loud as it was all i noticed in those five and a half seconds. she made a move to exit, then pulled away from the door as though her hand had been burned by the touch. the self-doubt exhibited on her features was gut-wrenchingly obvious and i wished to have the answer to the question she was asking herself. i felt a stab of pleasure at the momentary escape from a personal refuge.

are the questions that i have been asking myself so clearly displayed on my face as they are on hers? i wonder if the sidelong glances i feel from the old man to my left indicates the knowledge he has of my current state of mirth, a single definition of all that came before this day of deliverance. from the look on the woman's face as she took the plunge to exit the train a split second before the movement became impossible, i would guess this day to be her day of deliverance as well.

and i can't help but to think of all that came before this day and all that had to happen in order to find myself, as i do now, at the doorstep of a world i hardly knew existed. a civilization of ancient knowledge and questions, hypothesis and science, literature and language. and in this swirling vacuum of ideas i find the tools for discovering all that i desire to grok as well as the intense satisfaction in the grokking.

every question i've ever asked has led me to this day. to this moment, even as it passes.

ping - ping - ping

my body moves in delay to the sway of the train and i relish the feeling of physical abandon. enjoying the sensation of a slight smile i make no attempt to conceal. the sense of the glances from the left of me are penetratingly stronger and i begin to wonder if i am speaking my thoughts aloud. it seems there is something amiss but i may be wrong. i am aware of the heightened sensitivity i have been feeling today and dare not look at the old man again, positive that the nature of my thoughts will be directly visible in my face. he makes the decision for me.

'hello renata'

before i turn to look at him i know who he is and why he was looking at me so intensely and for so long.

'hi dad'

as i wake i wonder why so many of my dreams take place on trains.

The January edition of the Troubadour Magazing has featured Renata in this months cover story, 'Conversations with San Diego's Emerging Artists.'

This same edition features the following review of Renata's first full length album:


Renata Youngblood
The Side Effects of Owning Skin (released June '06)

by Craig Yerkes


A long time ago I almost made a huge musical mistake in judgment. I had just been listening to a Van Halen album when I switched to the radio and 'Sweet Jane,' by the Cowboy Junkies, was playing. The contrast was so stark that I changed the station but then switched it back, due to some cosmic musical angel on my shoulder. Those familiar with that track know how hauntingly beautiful and mesmerizing it is. The same musical voodoo can be found on The Side Effects of Owning Skin, the new release from Renata Youngblood.

Youngblood wastes no time establishing her unique brand of quiet, reflective musical power as track one, 'Passer-by,' weaves together wonderfully hypnotic music (the guitar and violin tracks drip out slowly as if suspended in time) and a sublimely subtle lead vocal. If this music moves at a frequency too mellow/meditative for you, the artist lets you know right away that she refuses to flinch from her approach. You can either jump into this still, deep water or go back to whatever you were doing. From start to finish you'll find a steadfast consistency and lack of compromise in her musical expression.

The vocals float in like an ethereal messenger and, when mixed with the perfectly restrained instrumental tracks, the music, for me, filled my mind with powerful visuals like a series of wonderful short films. On 'Never Mine,' I felt like I was in the midst of a conversation, watching a couple awkwardly stir their coffee as they tell the truth about their one-sided relationship. 'By Now' had me picturing two soulmates exploring the world, sharing the kind of connection that makes every day an adventure. 'Worth Lovin'' took me to a lonely room where a woman sits alone with a glass of booze, carelessly contemplating how to throw away what just might be good love. 'Water,' the most quietly impacting track, made me think of a vintage French film where a woman's hand shakes with withdrawal symptoms as she writes a letter of intense longing to her lover. The production touches and instrumental accompaniment offer not an ounce too little or too much in their supporting roles (with the exception of the flute on 'Brown Eyes,' which seemed a bit over the top). The electric guitar parts are stellar (especially the wildly imaginative solos on 'Pay and Pay' and 'Worth Lovin''), and the accordion on 'By Now' is nothing less than inspired. This pure, pristine brand of music may not be everyone's idea of a good time, but for those ready to step outside their noisy world, getting lost in this rarified air will be a very satisfying journey. Although the music avoids catering to the demands of our greedy, impatient ears, the end result is far more impacting that way.

A whisper is just as intense as a scream.

Renata has been nominated for 'Best Acoustic Act' by the San Diego Music Awards. This is quite an honor, especially considering the incredible talent also nominated for this category. Other nominees include Gregory Page, Anya Marina, Cathryn Beeks, Joanie Mendenhall, and Billy Shaddox... now that's some fine company!
CLICK HERE TO VOTE FOR RENATA FOR THE SAN DIEGO MUSIC AWARDS!

Youngblood has just wrapped up the first European tour with a string of very successful shows including a grand finale in Camden, London on Saturday the first of July. This marks the official launch of Renata's debut album overseas. Thanks to Empathy Records Ms. Youngblood's album 'Side Effects of Owning Skin' along with the EP 'Weightless' are now available at Amazon UK, Play.com and many other European stores.

Produced by: David J
Mixing/ Mastering Engineer: Don Tyler
Audio Engineer: Mike Arango
Recorded at Swinghouse Studios Hollywood, California
Mixed at The House on The Hill
Mastering by Precision Mastering

Renata Youngblood: Vocals & Acoustic Guitar Parts
Don Tyler: Synth on track 2 & programming
David J: Electric Guitar Part on track 11 & Synth Parts
Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez: Electric Guitar Parts
Tony Green: Bass
David Raven: Drums & Percussion
Tom Vos: Viola & String arrangements
Joyce Rookes: Cello
Jovin: Flute
Nicolas Barry & Tomas Jacobi: Accordian

Copyright 2006 Renata Youngblood (BMI)

All songs written by Renata Youngblood except:
Track 2 by: Renata Youngblood, Patricio Pickslay and
Gabriella Anaya Valdepena
Track 3 by: Renata Youngblood and Patricio Pickslay


Photos by Glenna Jennings
Photo shoot coordinated by Glenna Jennings and Renata Youngblood
Design of artwork photos by Glenna Jennings and Renata Youngblood, and implimented by Glenna Jennings
Fashion for photos by Renata's bedroom closet
Hair and Make up by the beautiful sisters Phoebe & Addie
Graphic art by Tim Mudd and Erin McCarthy at Groove House Records
Duplication and Packaging provided by Groove House Records & made possible by the extreme generosity of Diane and Robert Zeps... without whom this product could not have been completed. Thank you, I could not have done it without you two.


Thank YOU's

David J, Don Tyler, Patricio Pickslay, Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez, David Raven, Tony Green, Tom Vos, Joyce Rookes, Jovin, Tim Mudd, Glenna Jennings, Phoebe & Addie, Diane and Rob Zeps, Grant Zeps, Mike Arango, Adam Cohen, Tarzan, James Langteaux and the rest of my family at the Loft, Swinghouse Studios, Groove House Records, Leon Gazarian for the amazing UK Tour t-shirts, Cat at Empathy Records, Kim DiVincenzo, Louis of Lestat's San Diego, Johnny Ciccolella, Keiron Black, Nina Hynes, Niall James Holohan, Gerard Breen, Dan Chusid, Jason Nielsen, all my dear fans and friends (I wish I had room to mention every one of you!) and anyone else I may have forgotten... I always forget something.

It is official folks! Renata Youngblood's debut album, 'The Side Effects of Owning Skin' has been officially released. Order your copy now from this site or through CDBaby.com. Additional album credits will soon be available here. We also want to let you know that all comments for Renata are welcome and appreciated here on the guestbook. Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts. Please come back!

Yes, we have been a bit lax when it comes to the 'news' updates but rest assured this is not due to the lack of things happening.

First; the LP 'The Side Effects of Owning Skin' is set to release in June of this year. Thank you to all those who have put a lot of work into this debut album.

Second; Renata was nominated for 'Female Singer-Songwriter of the year 2006' by the LA Music Awards.

Third; the first European tour is scheduled to begin June 12th 2006. Renata will be meeting up mid-journey with the talented singer-songwriter Kim DiVine. The tour will include stops in London, Geneva, Cannes, Paris and Dublin. Stay tuned for more information about the shows. Hope that 2006 is being good to all of you.

Renata Youngblood's debut release, Weightless (produced by David J), has been nominated for a Los Angeles Music Award for Adult Alternative Album of the Year. Thanks to all of the Los Angeles music devotees who were a part of this nomination.

Weightless credits:

David J - Producer
Don Tyler - Mixing/Mastering Engineer
Mike Arango - Audio Engineer

1. Weightless (Youngblood/ Pickslay/ Valdepena)
Renata Youngblood - Vocals
David Raven - Drums
Tony Green - Bass
Patricio Pickslay - Electric Guitar
David J - Organ/ Synth

2. Dragonfly (Youngblood/ Pickslay)
Renata Youngblood - Vocals/ Acoustic Guitar
David Raven - Drums
Tony Green - Bass
Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez - Electric Guitar
David J - Synth

3. Waves (Youngblood)
Renata Youngblood - Vocals/ Acoustic Guitar
David Raven - Drums/ African Percussion
Tony Green - Bass
Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez - Electric Guitar
David J - Synth/ Backing Vocals

4. Water (Youngblood)
Renata Youngblood - Vocals/ Acoustic Guitar
David Raven - Drums
Tony Green - Bass
Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez - Electric Guitar
David J - 'water drop' Percussion

5. Bad Love (Youngblood)
Renata Youngblood - Vocals/ Acoustic Guitar
Don Tyler - Piano/ Synth

Recorded at Swinghouse Studios Hollywood, California
Mixed at The House on The Hill
Mastering by Precision Mastering
Photos by Glenna Jennings, photo shoot coordinated by Robert Zeps, Design of artwork photos by Renata Youngblood, David J, and implimented by Glenna Jennings
Fashion for photos by Leon Gazarian and Katrin Lotze
Graphic art by Tim Mudd - Font by Aaron Gautschi
Duplication by Groove House Records

"Thank you, I couldn't have done it without you"s

David J, Don Tyler, Patricio Pickslay, Amilcar Dohrn-Melendez,
David Raven, Tony Green, Mike Arango, Adam Cohen, Tarzan,
Diane and Robert Zeps, James Langteaux and the rest of the
family at the Loft, Swinghouse Studios, Groove House Records, Leon Gazarian,
Glenna Jennings, Katrin Lotze, Tim Mudd, and all of the supportive friends, family
and fans that have encouraged the path that this music has taken.

Weightless, Renata's debut CD release will be available for sale beginning this Tuesday, July 26th. You may order your copy by going to the 'BUY' page of this site or coming out to a show. ( It's about freakin' time! )

Thank you to Peter Murphy for his invitation to join the Southern California leg of his American tour. It was an incredible weekend of musical and visual stimulation... as good as it gets! Thank you!
And not to be forgotten... to the the gracious Sarah Fimm who gives all of her wisdom and talent to the world in the form of music. Thank you for welcoming me.
Love,
Renata

David J, the producer of Renata's album will be serving up the good music tonight, April 3rd, as a guest DJ on 94.9 FM Radio. Tune in to hear the first completed song from Renata's up-coming EP: 'Water'
Show begins at 6 PM Pacific Time.

There will be 5 songs chosen from the recordings just completed for an early EP.
The full length album, The Side Effects of Owning Skin, will be released at a later date still to be determined.

Every Thursday night on San Diego's County Television Network Renata's performance and interview is broadcast from 9:30 to 10:00 P.M. Pacific Standard time.
Produced by Andy Tolley, it is a great way to get to know the story behind the music and hear her songs performed live.