Dried By Soundwaves

by Steve Navarre

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This is an album of seven electro-ambient tracks created over the last year and a half or so. I call the style electro-ambient because at times the tunes may make good background music(ambient), but also at times demand ones attention(electro). Fans of Radio Massacre International, Zombi/Steve Moore and Boards of Canada, as well as, classic electronic artists like Tangerine Dream may find something to like. These pieces where all constructed and played using soft synth emulations of such classic instruments as mini moogs, mellotrons, rare tape effects, Fender Jazz bass sometimes run through various FX and a variety of shortwave, field and ham radio recordings (as a kid I spent countless hours late at night listening to a shortwave radio my grandfather had given me so the bits used have a nostalgic effect on me).

"At times reminiscent of Tangerine Dream's pulsing patterns and triad washes, but a work all of it's own, of a quality I've rarely heard by an independent artist. One of those albums that is perfect for the daily commute, as it places landscape in an entirely new context." Stig ~ www.stigmusic.com

"I find new and interesting vibes every time I listen to Dried By Soundwaves." Lino~Host of The Waiting Room radio show on cfmu.msumcmaster.ca


released May 22, 2010

All music written, programmed, performed and produced by Steve Navarre.

"Big Birds and Moms For Peace" was inspired by a poem "The Big Birds" by Jane Piirto, my mother, who can be heard reading the poem.

Album art by Steve Navarre using photos of eye catching odd things taken with a cell phone.



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Steve Navarre Denver, Colorado

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Track Name: Big Birds and Moms For Peace
The Big Birds by Jane Piirto.

In 1970 the B-52's lined up at K.I. Sawyer Air
Force base in Gwynn, Michigan,
The Upper Peninsula, were painted sky blue on their bellies, camouflage green and brown on their backs,
so when they dropped napalm and bombs they couldn't be spotted from below or above.
These planes in the Mid-west called "birds" by their managers stood out in the blueberry forests on runways on the sand plains, behind chain links on the base.
These very planes flew to Vietnam through Guam and the Philippines, reminders to us remote
Northerners of what pilots and navigators who lived among us did at work. "We are just in a quiet, dark room" one of my students
a navigator wrote, "lights blink, gauges beep, all is quiet. It is very restful.
We get the orders from the ship, find the coordinates, fly in. We are so high, miles high we barely feel it when we lose the bombs. Same thing with napalm. If we bother to look down we see a flame as small as a match in a cave. We're home in a couple of days, I come to class".
After the killings at Kent State I went out with my daughter Denise, nine months old in a backpack,
My son Steven, six, at my side. My Another Mother For Peace necklace on. It says
"War is not healthy for children and other living things". Collecting donations
in the trailer court where we lived in Upper Michigan. Passing useless petitions to
stop the bombings in Cambodia. Two of my neighbors slammed the door. Others gave a dollar,
two, five, for me to send to somewhere to some central place, in an irrational hope our children would not be murdered.
when they go to college. So far it's worked.