NESEY GALLONS

While maybe lesser known than the Elephant 6 compatriots for whom he played, toured and recorded with in the 2000's, Nesey Gallons was a central part to their resurgence in recent years. From his work as Producer and Engineer on the first Music Tapes album in almost a decade, "Songs for Clouds and Tornadoes", as well as Circulatory System's "Signal Morning", two key "sophomore" albums from two keystone bands in the collective, to his role in spearheading the 2008 Holiday Surprise tour, which saw many of the landmark bands and figures coming out of hibernation.

Time tends to pass at an hourglass pace when it comes to most Elephant Sixers, and Nesey seems at home with that pace as well. It's a testament to the dedication in the details of the art this guy forges to make, nothing less will do. It's also perhaps the strive and struggle for an abstract thing that exists only in his imagination, and cannot always be expressed in concrete or aural ways. But he's tried to, and his attempts are exceptional.

He's one of those rare music makers who has created his own little world, where every time you listen, you become lost in it's reoccurring imagery and themes. If you find yourself riding a carousel in a graveyard somewhere on the lighthouse coast of Maine, Nesey Gallons is what you'll hear crackling through it's hundred year old speakers. Then he'll invite you into a snowy log cabin, offer you some Russian literature in a big armchair by the fireplace, and bring you hot cocoa while wrapping the quilt that swaddled him through his boyhood around your shoulders. 

Gallons' achingly beautiful 2008 album, Eyes and Eyes and Eyes Ago, sounds like he comes from the turn of the 20th century, with it's otherworldly twists and turns through stereoscopes and magic lanterns. His fondness for his home state of Maine, with it's yearning for the kinder side of youth there, echo with any listener who longs for more innocent times or lost memories of souls along the way. The feeling in the song "Who", with the surreal declaration "…On the train, I dreamt you were invisible.. (cue singing saws) ..and Russia was a candy store…" is one of the loveliest spine chilling moments in pop music I've heard, and I'll stand on Jeff Mangum's creaky wooden chair in my Chuck Taylors and say that.

It's perhaps telling that Nesey tucks himself away for long periods of time to do what he does (his new album, the just released When I Was An Ice Skater, had been a decade in the works), and then shares it with other humans . It seems to me these types of artists take in a lot of weight of the outside world, and in processing it's daunting pain and seriousness, they aren't always sure about how to interpret, handle or carry it, let alone interact with it. And so they create their little worlds, their safe havens where they can escape with all the things they find comforting. When they're able to, and they step out of their nests for moments to share them with the rest of us, we find solace with them as well.
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