Crow is going on hiatus.
Crow will return.
I have received a few elegiac notes [of support] from readers interpreting this post as a farewell to my writing about new music. Sorry for the confusion. When I will return to reviewing is unknown. I do intend on returning, however. The tone was intended as a summing up of 2010, with gratitude–12/21/10 addendum
I started here in late February 2010, intending to write as time allowed about some of the music I love, and whatever else captured my flickering attention. I have posted 35 pieces, averaging 932 words each. I feel good about that number, as I think the areas of music crow is concerned with generally get short shrift, whether the metric is of quantity or quality.
I have reviewed music from 16 countries, which is really just scratching the surface.
I have written nearly 33,000 words about music; needless to say, I am engaged in many other areas of life, so that seems like just the right amount.
I want to thank every musician and label owner who sent me music for consideration this year. I am unconflicted in my decision to publish only reviews about releases I liked.
I work at a pace much slower than my fellows, posting about one review weekly. I didn’t know that when I launched crow, having never maintained a discipline of writing about music that is extremely difficult to say anything about. Try it, it’s very difficult.
If I received music from you and you have not seen it published yet, I hope you’ll wait awhile. I wrote about the releases I selected in the order received, that seems only fair. My queue is still full.
I want to thank every reader who visits crow. I see 30 plus countries in the stats at any given time. That is important to me, as the music I am most into involves global collaborations.
If you are yet interested in sending me something to hear, with the possibility of a review, please do so. I am sure I have made it clear the writing here has never been intended as quick marketing. I am privileged to be in touch with so many creative musicians who truly care fuck-all for the game, valuing first and foremost the real work.
That would be waving and that would be crying,
Crying and shouting and meaning farewell,
Farewell in the eyes and farewell at the centre,
Just to stand still without moving a hand.
In a world without heaven to follow, the stops
Would be endings, more poignant than partings, profounder,
And that would be saying farewell, repeating farewell,
Just to be there and just to behold.
To be one’s singular self, to despise
The being that yielded so little, acquired
So little, too little to care, to turn
to the ever-jubilant weather, to sip
One’s cup and never to say a word,
Or to sleep or just to lie there still,
Just to be there, just to be beheld,
That would be bidding farewell, be bidding farewell.
One likes to practice the thing. They practice,
Enough, for heaven. Ever-jubilant,
What is there here but weather, what spirit
Have I except it comes from the sun?
~Wallace Stevens, Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu