live acoustics by cast off form

Live Acoustics is a collection of three live recordings over the last 15 months showing the developmental arc of the acoustics series.

The expedition moves from rudimentary experiments to deeper introspection of the soul of both the artist and the instrument.

July 24th, 2024, was a defining moment.

Up to that point, my work with the guitar was intentional. Forced. The guitar strings were scraped with a pick. Objects were forced between the strings and the neck or the sound hole. Apparatus including a jaw hard, wooden tone block, wah-wah tube, and rubber mallet were implemented to distress the sound of the guitar.

While these experiments led to new insights, something was off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew there was some obstruction between what I heard and what it could be.

Then came the performance on July 24th. That may be the closest I've ever gotten to free improvisation. I left surprised, with renewed curiosity.

By the time November arrived, I was opening for Matthew Daher on his Midwest Tour. I intended the performance to close the acoustics chapter with that performance.

My creative focus was already shifting to "being unformed" - a work exploring the "beginning before the beginning" through sound and visual art.

On that November evening at The Church / Art House, the delicate play between the guitar and the PA speaker created shifting feedback. This shifting feedback gave rise to beautiful harmonics. At its crescendo, the oscillating vibrations of the strings brought on that state of forgetfulness I hope to cut calmly toward.

When I say I am inviting the listeners into a place deep within themselves, I left the November performance satisfied I'd hit the mark. The acoustics work felt complete.

And it was complete until I was invited to play opening night of Ex Nihilo at Joslyn Castle. It was time to bring the acoustic out of hibernation.

Inspired by the opening moment of Strings, the thought came: "I'll string the guitar."

After over a year of abuse, the strings were mangled, kinked, and ready to snap. I also saw a video of someone playing a guitar with a clamped-on contact mic and was excited to experiment with the idea.

So there we were, contact mic clipped to the headstock. As I strung the acoustic, that moment of intrigue struck again. This guitar that I've been playing for 20 years — the guitar I once got bored with because I thought I'd done everything I could with it — once again shone brightly with new possibilities.

Cracked, splintered, and splattered with blood from when I would strum without a pick, it was brand new again.

I should pause and tell you a story.

My acoustic guitar's name is Esmerelda. I bought her when I was a junior in high school. I worked all summer at a law office, filing paperwork in the attic. After saving my money, I went to Ron's Guitars in Groton, CT. I played every acoustic there. The Takamine kept calling my name. The mid-tones, the crisp highs, the booming sound of that solid cedar top with its mahogany back and sides. It was the perfect fit.

During college, music slipped farther and farther away. I worked full time and went to school full time. Money got tight. I sold my gear.

First, the pedals. Then the electrics - the Ibanez, the Vantage. I sometimes tell people that I have no regrets, but the truth is I regret selling that Vantage.

Then the recession hit. In 2009, I took a 50% pay cut. Someone offered to buy Esmerelda. I was barely playing. I sold it.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought of all the times my dad had sold his old trucks, sold his guitars, and regretted it. I thought of that Vantage. Then I called the guy back.

"I can't do it. I'll give you the money back."

For the next few years, Esmerelda took me through some of the darkest years of my life. I wrote my way through it, singing songs about being confused, paranoid, and disconnected from the world.

Over the last couple years, that guitar has once again given me new life. Exploring sonic frequencies with Esmerelda makes me think of Cook Ding from Zhaung Zhi.

"Whenever I come to a complicated place, I size up the difficulties, tell myself to watch out and be careful, keep my eyes on what I'm doing, work very slowly, and move the knife with the greatest subtlety, until - flop! the whole thing comes apart like a clod of earth crumbling to the ground. I stand there holding the knife and look all around me, completely satisfied and reluctant to move on, and then I wipe off the knife and put it away."

This is the freedom I hope to find, and over the last 15-24 months, I am grateful that I've found it more frequently.

This is the metaphysical dimension we are invited to tap into when we forget ourselves in the creative process.

To those of you who've taught me how to do this, who've encouraged me on the path, and who share the experience with me when I perform, there aren't enough words to express how grateful I am.

To those of you who've listened to Resonance, Resonant, Strings and Northern Lights, thank you for listening.

I appreciate those of you who came to the shows, gave honest feedback, and helped me become a more embodied artist.

Most of all, I am truly grateful that when life felt unbearable, and I sold that guitar, I listened to that intuitive thought and I bought it back.

Emerging from Omaha’s noise scene, experimental act Cast Off Form draws from a diverse palette, blending organic and electronic elements including electroacoustic improvisation, field recordings, and off-label uses of (non)instruments.

The resulting sounds can be both abrasive and ethereal - thematic releases with densely layered textures, influenced by ambient, drone, and harsh noise.