There was a plane crash in the late to mid 70′s in the state of Idaho, I believe, and in the two weeks that followed in amongst the chaos of the surviving members of the crew and passengers cannibalism ensued. What brought those normal people in the middle of America to indulge in the finer meat? The same thing that brings us all to reckless behaviour, fear. A human body of normal average weight can survive without eating for at least forty days and more if there is a small amount of caloric intake to be found. Does a Cowpuncher feel fear? No. There is no fear in the band for that is the opposite of love. There is this ridiculous notion in western society that hatred is bad, fuck that, fuck that shit hard. So, am I not to hate racism with the greatest fervour? Hate is the brother of love, not the opposite; fear is the opposite of love, fear and ignorance.

What would a band fear? Let me list the possibilities: obscurity, poverty, lack of ability, animosity, instability, and other words that end in ‘ty’. Who cares. What does Cowpuncher have to lose? Its life? The legend that is a band is what carries that thing forward and all the essential elements are here with this band, there are the crazy shows that are underground, there are the crazy members that have agreed to come together and play, and there are the women of Cowpuncher that make them what they are (the broken hearts and the blue balls and all).

Is there fear? Shit yes there is fear, I was bullshitting before. Will you see it? Never. Why? Because we never let out comrades see the fear when fighting our war. What is our war? Cowpuncher’s war is the war on dickweeds. The war against the people that make laws without your permission, the war against the people that hold you in a line when you need to eat, the war against the ones that own everything and won’t let anyone have a stake; a war on dickweeds.

We are not complaining to hear ourselves talk, Cowpuncher had a clear mandate and that is to heal the world with its music and defeat the dickweeds, to somehow leave a broken and shitty world a little brighter than it was than when the band started. Sure we are broken vessels, but the cracks are how the light gets in and someday these little pieces of what we are will be useful. Run as you might, run to the store and feel better with the spending power of the card but there will come a time soon where all that will be left is the ability that a person has created for themselves, all the rest will be washed away (hopefully).

I am going to tell you a secret: Cowpuncher is not going away, as uncomfortable as we make you, we are here to stay.

T

Hole’s a’lright.

I wonder if my roof is on fire? I know its not, I still sit wondering and wasting with my fire ant ass sitting comfortably in a house far too warm for actual survival, a belly far too full and a mind far too sensible. There is no more romance let in me, I feel the pang of anxiety when the 4×4 turns in a different spot than it did last time, what does that mean? Then I realize that this is like a Lynch movie and the close ups are meaningless. Why is my house rumbling under foot? Because the train is passing by. Why does the one room always make that clicking sound? I have no fucking clue. How did I find that gun clip, after so much searching? With much luck.

I found a handful of coal in my basement today, just a little shit turd of it; not much, just enough to bring back dead spirits, feel the aching belly of the miners. Those poor dirty bastards didn’t have cars, thats why they built the houses so uncomfortably close to the mines. We have forgotten our old strengths, all of us. The memories of a time when we had no words and only music to speak. Before the Earth was born, gentle notions.

How was the recording? It was strange. It was strange and great, glorious and filled with malcontent; I always seem to sit on the edge, teeter on it, this record (whatever it will be called) and my playing is the same damn thing, almost at the edge of destruction while simultaneously crowning the head with creative spirit. I am hardly there anymore and that is tough and it is also great – what I get to do now is watch as something I helped with grow into something more than myself, I am happy – not that I have left or will leave, I just don’t get to do everything anymore.

Holy shit the wind is crazy here.

That is all, lots of love,

T

We make with rock record in rockies! Yes, uh huh!

A big thanks to everyone that came out to our triple date album release last weekend in Nanton, Edmonton and Calgary. We had a blast! A twinkle in the eye towards the Twin Butte crew, Brooke and the girls, Dojo Workhorse, Axis of Conversation, all of the venue’s staffers, all of the friends that came out, and to girls in general.

It’s the holiday season and 7 out of 7 stage cowboys all agree that the Brown Album makes a fantastic Festivus/Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanzaa gift! It’s currently available at all Cowpuncher shows. So get it while it’s still brown!

As an early gift to y’all we’ve added three more songs from the disc to the myspace.com/CowpuncherBand (Melt Canada, Thank God For Pretty Girls and Kill All The Artists).

There are two more shows scheduled this calendar year before 2011 kicks in:

• December 23rd – Calgary – The Republik – The Dudes Christmas Special
• December 31st – Twin Butte – New Year’s Eve Spectacular

Edmonton’s VUE Weekly did an interview with Molah.

To you and yours, stay rad and stay warm!
-RK Heliplex

Dear Forest Children,

Please see this interview chalk full of factual errors. Oh well:
BeatRoute: Cowpuncher – Packin’ A Punch

In the claws of  a soaring eagle,

Matt

I press my hands against the gentle skin of her inner thigh, the thin satin slides gently southward and slips like a gentle drape in a breeze, the skin is soft and pale. I can smell her gently as the wind blows through the window, I follow the sign up the side of the mountain. Where is she? She is elusive and teasing. She is as fragile as I am and yet stronger and ready to tear my flesh apart, tear my heart from my chest. I can feel her in my bones. Her eyes pierce me in my dreams. Who is she to you? You have seen her in visions. Have we all forgotten the wild? Those terrible eyes in the night. There is no predator after you, the only predator in your mind is fear, imagination. I feel my hands tremble as they work towards her navel, she can smell my anticipation. I watch the signs. I watch the peaks. At any moment we turn on each other and rip out each other guts, the visceral carnage splayed out on a tapestry of light.

She is yours. We have all chased her. Her sex is obligatory. She is a he. He is a she. We have all chased.

I hear her whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Pillow talk. I knew her as a child. I see her in various forms. She is a bear. An emotion. A tree. The wind in the burnt out forest caused by the hands of ignorant men.

I feel her in my hands every day. I massage her as I sit in a chair, I play her in front of people. She is a dream, a smell that I have never smelled, a thirst that will never be quenched.  If you have ever wondered what a musician does, it is the same thing that you do; try to conquer a feeling, try to capture a moment.

When will you give in. What have you got to lose?

I love you,

Tynan

PS. IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I AM SAYING, READ AGAIN!!! MANY TIMES AND FIGURE IT OUT!

The rustle of the yellow leaves along the pavement, their little dance along the street, they have served their purpose to feed the tree, now they scurry along the path singing their forlorn songs of sadness. The brooks and streams with be silent soon, their innate chatter quieted by the north wind and the tilt of the Earth. How quickly time passes. I am not sure if time has become quicker as I have grown older or if time has hastened for all beings on the planet; does a dog feel the passing of time as I do? In the forest I have been given ticker tape parades, the wind showers me with the opulence of a summer passed by – a summer that was never mine, never yours.

Why am I writing today of all days? There are shows on the horizon. Valuable fall shows that will only happen in the way that they are about to happen this one time. I have tried to tell you numerous times to come to the shows, if you listen that is up to you, it makes no difference to me, I will play my best and you will miss out by not being there.

Have you felt magic? Have you ever been a part of something that is bigger than yourself? I feel this in the change of the season, I feel this in Cowpuncher. There is a core here, headed my Olah and spurred on by the rest of the members. There is magic in this band, emotions that stir like those sad songs of the leaves. Scraping. Longing. There is a sexual longing, there is a romantic notion like a sandstone hotel with a shotgun wedding. Have you been to a Cowpuncher show? Do you know the members of Cowpuncher? I hope that you do. I know them, I love them.

When the winter comes in dark, warm, and secret places there will be a meeting; and when that meeting is done you will feel as I do now, the pulsing and vibrate warmth of ‘idea’ and ‘dream’. Contemplate love for a moment and what that means to you. Imagine every friend that you ever had. Now, that is Cowpuncher, except we are a family; we give each other shit, we tear each other apart to heal and help – like pulling out a sliver hurts and then feels so good.

Winter is almost here. Spring will come with a gift.

I love you,

Tynan

the wind is blowing from the south, jupiter is crawling along the sky faster than the moon – the sun always beats both of them. the wind howls through the tipple, why are you here? i felt the change in my mind did you? it became crystals in my mind as the change blew in, there was no other sign for me but that. i sat in the trees in a slumber as the message came, where were you? the mail arrived by the speed of light. wandering the streets of hundred year old building with their new laundry hanging to dry, the desperate laundromats hungry for quarters, and me following thousand year old game trails; we are all slaves tied to a dream that someday life will be better, it will not, life is the reward of living. a message arrived that completion had happened, the message was from a dear friend- and dear friends are rare beasts. why are you still reading?

we have all walked in the shadows of the opulent, those fettered little ties that skim on our faces like peacock feathers outstretched and magnificent. she will prove herself before your court. she will not languish on the shelves of apathy, she is a child of love. she is our gift to the world. we made love for months, love between brothers and sisters of blood to create her. we watched friends come and go, pass and yearn before she was ready to be yours.

do you understand what i am talking about? do i have to spell it out?