Spanish Antennas | Studio Red

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Liner notes

It's funny that a solitary moment or a night's events can transform into a metaphor for a much larger time line. I spent a late summer night in Seville, Spain while in transit. There was a festival happening in which they shut down the metro area's streets. I was across the ocean from all things familiar and was deeply, almost chemically allured by the lights, music and thrill of a distant culture. As the night wore on, the lights wore off a bit and I realized just how lost I was. Lost in my own life, not just lost in a foreign city's streets. All those miles from the things I'd done wrong, heartache I'd accrued and it was still there after the seduction of the festivities dissipated. It would serve as a prelude for the year to follow. A year of allowing club scenes and substance abuse to seep in and temporarily fix me with the same disappointing result as that night. Just like the song, it all began with a charming bounce and went to regretful and sinister in five and half minutes flat. The song was written and recorded later in truly crude means for the digital age. I recorded it in a borrowed bedroom with a mixer wired into a cheap computer with RCA cables. It's one of the most important songs to me and that's it's story.

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About the artist

Studio Red is the artistic vehicle for Chris Hynes. He writes, performs, engineers, produces and masters all the music himself. <br/> Chris was born in Lincoln, NE in 1986. He was raised in a small town between Lincoln and Omaha, NE by an art teacher Mother and military Father, with an equally creative sister. He began playing piano at age 8 by teaching himself to play songs from "The Lion King" soundtrack. Throughout elementary school and the first portion of high school, he played the alto saxophone for concert band and marching band. His developing musical interests at this time caused him to opt for an electric guitar instead. <br/> He was in a series of punk and rock bands throughout high school. The lack of kindred spirits and the distance between friends in nearby communities led to a lot of playing and writing in solitude. <br/> At age 15, Chris's parents gave him some basic computer recording software. He began teaching himself to use the software by writing and recording songs day and night, sometimes with other musicians and sometimes without. His primary band during these years was called "Generation Landslide". They played various local venues in Lincoln and disbanded when members started graduating high school. <br/> As Chris was preparing to graduate, he faced the possibility of not meeting the requirements to pass senior English class and therefore, would not graduate with his peers. His English teacher had enough faith in Chris's writing ability and literary understanding to offer an alternate solution. She instructed him to bring her a notebook of lyrics he had written, saying she would evaluate it. She ended up giving him an overall passing English score, allowing him to graduate high school with his classmates. <br/> After high school, he moved to Lincoln in an attempt to pursue his music. He quickly discovered that serious musicians were scarce and he became relatively reclusive in the Nebraska capital. Unhappy and alone, forward progress towards his musical aspirations seemed unreachable and this was exacerbated by substance abuse habits. He decided he could no longer live in Nebraska but couldn't see an immediate exit. He enlisted in the U.S. military and served for four years, receiving an honorable discharge. <br/> Many of the songs found on Studio Red's album, "Surf Rock Circa The Lost Summer", were written while stationed in Afghanistan. After returning to the United States, a disastrous and reckless period of self destruction ensued. He often referred to this behavior as "Unchanneled Bravery". This moniker would become the song title to the instrumental track on the album. This also marked the start of the writing and recording process of that album. A friend who had been alongside Chris for this endless era of debauchery agreed to let him turn the guest bedroom of his rental house into a studio. A lot of "Surf Rock"'s rough recordings took place here in between the countless nights of drunken wandering and disorder. Even with the progress in the studio, the darker side of this period didn't stop.<br/> After a few failed interventions by his friends, Chris eventually found his way into substance abuse rehabilitation to seek help. Although it was an intense and emotional change, this revitalized him and led him to quit using to focus on his music and finish the album.<br/> Shortly thereafter, he was invited to record "refined" versions of the songs in a New York studio. After one trip, the mixing and production of the new versions did not rest well with Chris. Although recorded with top industry equipment and technology, he decided they lacked the emotional depth of the originals. He set out to mix and master the originals himself. These self produced versions ended up on the album.<br/> After leaving the military, Chris began the process of building the live rendition of Studio Red, putting together musicians to help him share the product of all these experiences with the audience. He's currently relocating to Seattle, WA to work on the next album and promote "Surf Rock Circa The Lost Summer".

Lyrics

She can barely make out the transmission I am pushing
through the burst of the drums our chest
cavities are catching, under the circus tent.

where are you?
dark, unsolved and incomplete
where are you?
Spanish Antennas do nothing for me

In a city that doesn't see like me
In a city that gives itself up for this dance

and it only costs a rose to play
one, just one and we can play
where are you?
where are you?

her broken ears for English can still compute a rose
outstretched in my hands and dowsed in the brilliance

where are you?
dark, unsolved and incomplete
where are you?
Spanish Antennas do nothing for me

in a city that doesn't see like me
in a city that gives itself up for this dance

and it only costs a rose to play
one, just one and we can play
where are you?
where are you?

the stomping feet from underneath
belong to you, your memory
dark, unsolved and incomplete
Spanish antennas do nothing for me
dark rose, eye shadowed foes
fade and approach, you know
I've got to find you
the home that's growing inside you
your ghost is amidst at the discoteque
Spanish nights haven't killed her yet
please stitch the great divide
and bring the beginning to my side, tell me

where are you?
where are you?

where are you?
where are you?
where are you
where are you?

it only costs a rose to play
shadows skip through all my days
4 years without my life
take me back...