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  • Full Digital Discography

    18
    releases

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Fifteen Dollar Cocktails, an evil wind, when the storm, Old Gods, rhythm in blue, Weirdo Boy, FAKE WORLD, Moab, and 10 more. , and , .

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1.
The Fray 04:56
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THE FRAY So tired… the ground below gives way So tired… this grotesque parade. SHE She wanders above the fray… So tired… the wires that bind my legs So tired… desires, they fan the flames. SHE She wanders above the fray… So tired… bare skin to blood red clay So tired… the lies that we have made.
2.
Fake World 04:27
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FAKE WORLD Had that dream where I was high up in the mountains. It was you and me and Dick Van Dyke. It must have been some sort of commercial. I can never make up my mind. Then I lost my footing and found myself floating… down to the streets. Plugged myself into a factory life. and I can never forgive this town… It had been such a terrible winter. After the accident, I tried to come clean. You’re useless to me. You’re useless to me. Still, somehow, I always manage to make room. and I can never forgive this town… Caught myself getting high in the FAKE WORLD. I tore my soul open and went back to bed. And I can see forever from here if only I can reach you. I can see forever from here if only I… Fade Out and everyone come back from the dead. Fade Out and everyone come back.
3.
Vignette 04:24
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THE DOOR IS LOCKED and he won’t make a sound THE KEYHOLE IS DARK and he won’t be kept out THE DOOR is locked and when he comes around THE KEYHOLE is dark and he won’t be kept out. DON’T LEAVE ME Don’t leave me with the BILLS. Don’t leave me with my CREDIT SCORE. Don’t leave me with the LAUNDRY. DON’T LEAVE ME Don’t leave me LOST IN TRAFFIC. Don’t leave me with THIS FUCKING JOB. Don’t leave me with MY THOUGHTS. DON’T LEAVE ME DON’T LEAVE ME WITH MYSELF. DON’T LEAVE ME circling the parking lot with your leftovers in the fridge with your thrift store treasures with your grandmother’s quilted comforter with your scratch and dent furniture DON’T LEAVE ME alone.
4.
This Chain 03:21
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THIS CHAIN We said our goodbyes and I still feel the WEIGHT of you. On this DARK NIGHT, on this DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL. COLD RAIN I hear you calling me OUT. In this BACKWOODS I DIG THE SOIL. Well it’s upon me now. Well IT’S ABOVE ME NOW. And I cannot let go. And I CANNOT LET GO… of this chain. This chain. THIS CHAIN. back to you. On this DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL.
5.
Soil 04:32
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SOIL Fear on the horizon and I brush it all aside. What for these useless things? What for the roles I play watching the PARADE pass US BY? We sink into THE SOIL While CONCRETE ROLLS ABOVE BLOOD on the horizon HANDS TO THE WALL SWALLOWED UP INSIDE Thoughts HARDENED AND DRIED The STATUES we watch FALL We sink into THE SOIL While CONCRETE ROLLS ABOVE SING IN ME YOUR BEAUTIFUL LIES LUST on the horizon This STORM TOO MUST PASS And it all works out until THERE’S NO MORE TRASH TO SELL On SCREENS we watch it CRASH We sink into THE SOIL While CONCRETE ROLLS ABOVE
6.
Cult 04:00
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CULT A CULT OF MY OWN I sing YOU MUST SING ALONG A CULT OF MY OWN I see WE MUST SEE AS ONE Don’t you get the picture the picture before me? Don’t you hear the bedtime story I PUT YOU TO SLEEP? TOGETHER WE CRY I ALONE A CULT OF MY OWN Small Time Jesus GIVE TO ME YOUR STARSTRUCK EYES A CULT OF MY OWN It’s all about you GIVE ME ALL YOU LEAVE BEHIND I stir in the POISON WE CLOSE OUR EYES I stir the KOOL AID WE CLOSE OUR EYES TOGETHER WE CRY I ALONE
7.
This Flame 04:03
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THIS FLAME SATELLITE, High over the rooftops. Give me strength to get out of bed in the morning. SATELLITE, Weightless through the empty. Please forgive these late payments. SATELLITE, So cold and alone. Grant me patience with the idiots on Facebook. I’M LOST IN A WORLD ALL MY OWN THIS FLAME I PUT TO MY SIN I’m longing to be touched THIS FLAME I PUT TO MY SIN I’m longing to BE LIKED THIS FLAME I PUT TO MY SIN I’m longing to BE VIRAL THIS FLAME I PUT TO MY SIN I’m longing FOR GOD THIS FLAME I PUT TO MY SIN I’m longing FOR THE WORLD TO BURN I’m longing TO WATCH IT ALL BURN I’m longing TO BE FALLING so lost in a world all my own.
8.
Quietly, This. 04:23
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And Quietly. THIS. there’s just a little not quite EMPTY there’s only a little these streets are COLD there’s just a little it’s NOT quite LIVING there’s only a little this BUSINESS is getting OLD self medication you walk into the office you got NOTHING to say WHAT THE HELL DID YOU COME HERE LOOKING FOR? you would like to sell out but it’s given away pin it all with magnets on your FRIDGE DOOR self medication and quietly and quietly THIS and quietly and quietly THIS JESUS IS THE LAST TO FORGIVE AND THE FIRST TO LET GO and quietly and quietly This.
9.
Blood 02:59
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BLOOD Had a dream you were praying for me, And I could hear. Floating over the operating table, I saw your fear. As the BLOOD was washed from THEIR HANDS. I saw your tears as TIME RAN DRY. I saw the WOUNDS from the places we touched… so DEEP. And when the BANDAGES were FINALLY CUT You SCREAMED. As the BLOOD was washed from YOUR HANDS I saw your TEARS as TIME RAN DRY. When I woke it was before the light… And you were there. NAKED, I followed you into the NIGHT. and kissed the air. As the BLOOD was washed from MY HANDS I saw your TEARS as TIME RAN DRY.
10.
Rip the Foil Off 08:18
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about

How do I engage with THIS?

I asked myself after the election when so many of the well established norms of Post War United States had been upended. This was more than a backslide. This was a mudslide pulling lives off a cliff and into the filth. And then all the people, the liberals, the Democrats, the libertarians, the Republicans, the anarchists… all the people were in the filth, hurling the worst insults… “racists”… “snowflakes”… using whatever rocks, sticks, and clumps of mud within reach to bludgeon the humanity out of each other.

Because, when we entered into this FAKE WORLD, our essential humanity was left behind.

The distance between screens is too great. How does the pilot dropping bombs on a city killing thousands feel less guilt than the soldier murdering a single enemy with his bayonet? Why does a Tsunami in Asia killing hundreds of thousands matter less to most Americans than a Mississippi flood that injures twenty?

Distance.

The distance between our screens is too great for our humanity to travel.

How do I engage with THIS?

My first duty has been to counter the narrative. The FAKE WORLD is built with narrative. So I do my best to counter the narrative of hate… the narrative of walls… the narrative of safety at all costs… even when “safety” means committing crimes against our brothers and sisters… even when our “safety” means pulling children from their mothers… even when it is evident that, after all the crimes we commit, we are less safe than before.

The Golden Rule was not sent down from the high God. It is the inevitable conclusion of centuries of bitter experience. The Golden Rule is built from the inverse of the brutal law:

The harm we cause comes back to harm us.

And so here we are in the FAKE WORLD… the surreal world… Jesus spoke his Beatitudes on the mount and now it is only the atheists that believe him. So many people, who claim to be “Christians”, have turned their backs on Christ and embraced Lucifer, the teller of lies… because these Christians have lost their faith.

They have only conviction.

So I engage with a counter-narrative. I try to avoid the tit for tat of these FAKE WORLD politics. I say yes to Love. I say no to walls. I say we are safer together than we are pitted against each other. I say when Jesus spoke of the Kingdom, he did not speak of a magic realm in the Afterlife. He spoke of a mission. The Kingdom is for us to build, here, in the real world. He laid the corner stone and for thousands of years, some have built on it while so many others have sought to destroy it.

So I write these narratives. Whatever I can do. I can reach twenty people here. Maybe three people will share what I write to twenty more people. Perhaps what I say is worthy of reaching more than that. Tell me that. Replace my narrative that says I am not worthy of a greater audience. If my message needs to reach others, help me reach them.

My second duty is to engage as an Artist. As an Artist, I do not engage directly. I do not begin a song with “I want to write about…” As an Artist, I open myself to the Divine. She wanders above the fray. I let the music come to me. I create an ocean of sound and the words rise to the surface. For the past two years, I have done this. I turned my back on the FAKEWORLD, and lost myself in my many oceans. Perhaps I have done this only for myself. Perhaps this will be my least successful record. As of today, I have sold three copies. Still, with this art I have survived. Still, with this art I have maintained this narrative instead of falling victim to the opposing one. For me, as it is with many of my tribe here, the narrative of hate only turns inward. We do not do harm to others. We do not pull babes from mothers’ arms.

We kill ourselves.

Real talk.

I’m fucking fine.

It seems fitting the record I built turned into a Dante-esque epic. I did not intend this. That is what happened. This journey is far more ancient than Dante. There was Gilgamesh. There was Osiris and Odysseus. This song has always been sung. It is the Greatest Hit of mankind because we are all born knowing the tune.

And so FAKE WORLD was built. It starts with a dialogue between the Divine and the tired and bewildered man. She wanders above the fray. Together they enter the FAKE WORLD. Then the hero looses touch with the divine hand and gets lost in the world of his own, distorted, reflections. Traveling back and forth from job to home. Circling the parking lot downtown trying to find a spot. He feels abandoned. His only connections to others turn to a cold and heavy chain. He sinks into the black soil of his despair as concrete rolls above.

He comes out broken and twisted. He forms a cult of his own reflection. He drinks the Kool-Aid. He prays to a FAKE GOD… a distant satellite high above in the cold expanse of space. He prays not for Love but for victory in the battles he is burning with lust to engage in. He doesn’t realize that he is fighting himself as much as he is his enemies. Quietly, he suffers.

There is a wound. There is blood. His own. He cannot wash his hands of it. Time runs dry and he returns to where he started. He reaches back to the Divine. Together, they rip the foil off. The wound is exposed. Together, they contemplate the next project.

To heal.

credits

released July 18, 2018

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J. P. Whipple (Barefoot John Whipple) image

J. P. Whipple (Barefoot John Whipple) Salt Lake City, Utah

J. P. Whipple is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. He has spent a life drifting across the country singing old time roots, blues, and country.

He is a founding member of the psychedelic band Tycoon Machete: tycoonmachete.bandcamp.com ... more

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