sub-morphine alt-country songwriter

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UNCUT Magazine Reviews

Dead Flower Motel Review from UNCUT Magazine.

Catch us tonight at the Scoot Inn. Eastside Austin Tx.

10PM with the Preservation.

~dig

Lonestar Sky – Upcoming shows 2011

80 Mph

with an iphone

Lonestar Diary

on the dash

in the middle of New Mexico.

today we’re heading into boulder colorado

and gonna hit up the breweries.

at 5 the sun will set above the gray mountains.

night red dawn.

back in austin january 3.

Chili Cold Austin Night (Show Thursday 8PM at JAX) ATX

CB and Dead Flowers Friday out in the chili cold Austin Night — stand with us under the heat lamps… no really it won’t be that cold.. unless you’re not there. 9PM. Download Dead Flower Motel at www.chrisbrecht.com. On Thursday December 16th catch us at JAX.. the new joint.

Show at Momo’s in Austin Sunday Dec. 5

Hey CB and Dead Flowers will be at Momo’s this Sunday December 5th 10PM. visit: www.momosclub.com for more info.. The new album, Dead Flower Motel, will be in stores in January. Always available online at www.ChrisBrecht.com.

Dead Flower Motel Incarnation ~ The record combines sonically illuminating rock n roll with Chris Brecht’s alt-country songwriter roots. Dead Flower Motel classifies the Dead Flowers in the company of My Morning Jacket, The Rolling Stones, or Wilco on a reverb pill. The sound is even reminiscent of the Doors-style Moonlight Drive, jagged guitars from Scott Davis (Hayes Carll, the Trishas), revolutionary pedal steel from Ricky Ray Jackson (The Happen-Ins, Phosphorescent), Space Echo keys and B3 Organ from Matt Mollica (Deadman), and chic and sassy L.A. style rhythm section of Falcon Valdez and John Michael Schoepf (the Happen-Ins), Chris Brecht and Dead Flowers are incarnation. More people should be listening to Chris Brecht. If you’re not listening to his albums, you’re missing out.

Upcoming Austin Shows

November 11th & 30th @ the Saxon Pub…

Midnight / Austin TX

Upcoming Shows

August 17th – Mean Eyed Cat – 8PM
August 24th – Saxon Pub – 8PM
September 14 – Saxon Pub – Midnight
September 15 – Uncorked – (Solo/Acoustic) Outside stage – 8PM
September 16 – Antone’s – Cystic Fibrosis Foundation Fundraiser
September 28 – Saxon Pub – Midnight

Mean Eyed Cat show Tuesday, then off to Denver

show at the Mean Eyed Cat Tuesday July 20.. 8 PM..  All shows at the Mean Eyed Cat are free.  Don’t miss this one.. After that I’m off to Denver…  dig… cb.

Next Up….Saxon PUB

For the last couple of months, I have had Dead Flower Motel up on the web at www.chrisbrecht.com for free download. I realize though that I cannot do this forever. I have also entered into a record contract with the European Record Label, Blue Rose Records. So, I’ll let them handle the sales for a while. But..

Like i drive through the desert all the time… I do see ghosts.

we’ll be at the Saxon Pub Tuesday July 6th.. 10PM .
Click on the image below to dig on the Desert Poster.

Upcoming Shows

A Few Upcoming Shows. We’ll be doing an early set 10PM at the Hole in the Wall this Sunday.. Here’s how the rest of July is looking..

July 6 – Saxon Pub 10PM
July 15 – Scoot Inn – 10PM
July 20 – Mean Eyed Cat 8PM
July 22 – Meadowlark (Denver)
August 5 – Hole in the Wall 10PM
August 27 – The Belmont

one look over the cliff….

Dead Flower Motel will be my latest release. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking over the idea of Dead Flower Motel and what it means. I guess I am talking more about the metaphysical land between our beginning and end.  Not the land that we stand on, or the empty highways, or barren deserts, the echoed canyons, starved cliffs, plentiful mountains, or the trails we carve with our boots. The land is in our minds. The thoughts we take with us through our lives. I’ve lost myself plenty and traveled enough to discover what it means to me, and there will likely be more to come.  But it is temporary.

I had a friend pass a little over a year and a half ago. Her death has been very very hard on those who knew her best. She was a wonderful young spirit and her life was taken too soon, the result of a very tragic accident. And I fear sometimes that I can’t say more. But death can unexpectedly reveal a void, within our likeness of being, that will extend for an indeterminable stretch of time, inside happiness which we strive to live. We are all precious to someone else. Our lives, though they are very dear and fragile, are too often taken for granted, something that is easily overlooked.

Not long after Lauren’s death, I began to think of dead flowers. And I thought very deeply about how we are not that different from flowers ourselves. We grow. We blossom. And we pass through the beauty of each day, showing our colors, our tenderness, our joys and we look to others to reflect ourselves. After she passed, a friend of mine, who was very close to Lauren, wrote to me, “After all, we are all just renting.” And that is so. How we exist, looking around at ourselves in a world of color, so quickly we are gone. We are all just renting. Our time is quick. And that is how I uncovered the idea of Dead Flower Motel.

I have written this poem for Lauren. I have also written it because art, music or vision is sometimes the only way to communicate. Dead Flower Motel is not a record about death, but about life and how we must embrace the journey through our days. Our love. Our fear. Our forgiveness of that reality we cannot understand. No matter how confusing the days may sometimes be. We get back out on that barren stretch of road and take a look at the depth of our vision, across landscape that decorates the dreams before our eyes, seeing the sunrise, but looking for those who have the courage to lead us through the colors of sunset into tomorrow.

hope you enjoy…

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. - William Wordsworth

One day, I was standing above a cliff looking down at the ocean
where wave after wave crashed on the trembling rocks
and the water climbed with violent memory.
It screamed at the living and turned to mist, bleeding away
into the cracks
and very slowly carving a shape that resembled coastline,
just before another wave came and toppled the crest with violent roar.
My path ended and an endless black wish began…

I saw you standing there in front of me
looking out at the curse that swims
beneath the surface of the dark water,
your cold shoulders and hair blowing back into the drift of sunset
like the trees bowing away from the ocean
afraid to show their courage,
guarding the tiny houses and little campfires where people live.
I fell slowly into my own skin.

***

the miles I drove were no longer there,
no longer in time with one another..
They were just worn paths in the earth
separating me from where I was
and where I now stood,
like empty caverns of canyons
that are laced with rocks and scars.
My time is divided before and after,
who I was and who I am now,
before you and until I see you again, by no fault of my own.
But I was no longer afraid, no longer broken.
And I was again able to regain my footing and brace myself inside my clothes
so I could reach out for you like you were still here.

I saw dead flowers.

I watched the petals grow dark, wilt in joy,
tear from the vine, and then fall slowly to the ground
where they curled against the soil
and crawled back into the womb of the earth
so they could plant seeds for a new and better me.

***

And the night sang blue midnight tears,
that fell onto my blanket,
so the stars,
naked above me,
could decorate the sky and deliver me through today before tomorrow,
where I could reject the dark shadows within my own mind
and again hear echoes ring into new echoes…

My breath is fog against the cold night.

Sometimes I shutter so in my sleep
so I can shake the horror of the day, before my rest,
and let my dreams again gleam like the water in the moonlight.
I hold true to the reflection of the stars
and forgive their desperation to ripple into golden memories,
where you remind me
that it is not a mistake to make our time here beautiful.
Even if soon,
I will be in my bed, where I’ll remember,
you are with me,
and we are flowers.

In memory of Lauren Johnson