Don't blame them. Blame me. Circus Screams came and killed and I feel the guilt.
During the recording of Circus Screams a couple of musicians, I won't say who (Jonathan and Samuel), asked if I had plans to play Circus Screams live. I said, 'No!' the first time, then 'Who knows?' the second time. My plan was to record this album and shop it to circus companies. Plans change. So do friendships when a hand touches a leg.
WRCJ 90.9 FM out of Detroit told me a story. Tchaikovsky was limping through life until he decided to put on a concert of his own works. End of story.
The Portfolio Composer podcast told me, a musical work isn't complete until it's performed. That's what I heard anyway. So many composers. Someone said it.
Slowly the wheels started turning, the legs started pumping, the organ reeds started screeching. I decided to stage my own work, Circus Screams. I arranged the music. I wrote the script. I recruited the acts. Then musicians were tied down. Circus performers were bribed. Props were erected. The theatre was booked. And tickets were sold.
"Are we going to perform Circus Screams live?" You bet your brass ass we are. And we did. And it was chilling and deadly, and hair-raising. But I don't blame them. I blame me. Oh the gory guilt of it all.
To everyone who was brave enough to come out and scream, thank you. To everyone else who was traveling or busy combing their leg hair, here is what you missed:
Thanks you Seth Astle for shooting video and Henry Choi for the design. See the credits for all other participating parties.
The album that started is all is available for purchase everywhere. Bloody get it–unless you have it. Then get it for someone else.
