Remember when I wrote about The Collection’s splendafrickinriffable album The Art of Dying? (Well I don’t care. (That’s what hyperlinks are for. (Forgetful punks.))) The band were so kind as to add The Harmonium Project to their tour last spring — a non-profit music venue full of world-changing potential that my friends and I run in Steubenville, OH.
They murdered the stage. We ate pancakes, Hope (clarinet) stole my copy of Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling (the address I wrote on the inside front-cover isn’t mine anymore, you’ll never be able to send it back, whatever, just keep it, it’s not like it’s one of the best books ever) and I maybe-too-enthusiastically proselytized David Wimbish (frontman) with a copy of The Little Flowers of St. Francis. (Also, Hayden (bass) really likes Carlos Rossi, and Tim (drums) knows too much about Ancient Jewish history.) We were all made the better for the encounter. In the midst of all this, the band recorded a video session for us in the top floor of our being-restored building — because when you’re exploding with kindness and solidarity, why the hell not.The lyrics are perfect. I hope you enjoy it so much, you pop a mind-grape:
And then I hope you share it, and tell your millionaire friends to donate their children’s inheritance to The Harmonium Project via our nifty donate button.
Video credit goes to Paper Lantern Productions, whose main man is working with Dynamic Catholic this summer, and whose media work is just better than yours — seriously, they get to take pictures of Shakey Graves and twenty one pilots and pretty people getting married while we just eat cheetos and send snapchats of our best impression of a human thumb.
Wimbish, by the byes, has a heartbreakingly good EP entitled “On Separation.” You should give it a gander, or 12.