Adjy

“The truth of fiction is that it’s through the use of fiction we tell the truth.[1]”

 

"Look, I know how crazy this is going to sound, but...

 

If there's a place where Tragedy, love, a Midwest summer memory, Guy Montag, Jose Chung, Little Pete, comparative mythology, Big Pete, Tolkien, Speech and Phenomena, The House, Artie, Laphroaig, Nabokov's index cards, Finnegan's Wake-ing, the impossible notion of mortality, and the quest for some semblance of internal logic meet…

 

…That's where Adjy's Christoper Noyes' mind spends it's days at play...

 

Born of the immigrants, Josephine Joyce -a Scottish Catholic logician/cynic, and James Campbell -an Irish agnostic poet who both suffered the pitfalls of living as traveling show-people. (Puppeteers under the moniker "Dummies of Dublin[2]”…)* Following a scuffle at a mobile springtime ecumenical marionette meet simply known as, "A March in March for the Mark of Maybe" in which his mother called his father's famous avant-garde short story titled "God's Wicker Men and the Doubts they Dream[3]" a "straw man argument for the nonexistence of a being who -based on the 'piss-poor' quality of the poem …simply shouldn't exist. (His main characters seemed to have conspired to purposely each tell the story differently[4])* He argued that it wasn't written as a collection of linear guidelines and aphorisms, nor an argument for the metaphysical, but it was intended as a critical examination on the nature of story itself, it’s conflicting narrators mirroring the subjective realities all people experience, and its multiple often conflicting tones causing the reader to question and thus, for a moment, experience wonder. (Even if it was in the form of bewilderment…)* Of course, this exchange was cause enough for both parties to doubt their stances, meet somewhere in the middle and hastily join together in nominally holy, but mostly skeptical matrimony -though they took the "leap of faith" at the Our Stoic Lady and Her Sickness Unto Death's Church in Denmark[5] ...realizing they were "meant" for one another. They both finished their vows by reading the famous Mark Twain passage, “Now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates[6]” and then set off. "Ama Deum et face quod vis" as they say.

 

After years at sea, they gave birth to what appeared to be a child, and named that apparition "Christoper" which is Gaelic for, "how are we ever going to explain this to the millennials?" -Darin Morgan

 

(This should have been an article on why social media is a digital panopticon…

 

Wait…. I've never heard anything about immigrant parents, or puppeteers…wasn’t it something about Civil war vets, or traveling salesmen... I keep hitting a stone wall with Jackson )[7]

 

Ok ok, so, actually… forget all of that…

 

It's still going to sound crazy, but this is the truth…

 

let's start here:

 

"…In 2012, following the Mayan eschaton of the camper Noyes was living in, he relocated to a 30ft sailboat, and for 2 years with one foot on land and one foot at sea, fixed up an abandoned house into a workable studio space, wrote several songs, and assembled a rag-tag team of musicians to perform said songs in a way that would visibly garner esteem and praise in some commodifiable fashion.

 

Several shows, and hiccups in the form of financial blunders later, the dream/band packed up everything and moved to an ex camp/ ex group home in Black Mountain, NC to practice, and craft full time fueled only by amalgamated indian food made on artist-budget, and Super Smash Brothers.

 

2015 -present:

 

After a US tour in which the band with one collective frankensteinian laugh misplaced several thousands of dollars to unnaturally preserve the life of the van/home the band lovingly referred to as, "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness" The band decided to part ways like a Bullet with Butterfly Wings, saying “Farewell and Goodnight,” they laid their Bodies In the Arms of Sleep that night that night[8].  Noyes finding himself once again in another location in the Appalachians, he sought isolation and began work on a full length album and alchemical Great Work in true hermit fashion."-pieced together from legitimate quotes from Pitchforker's Iann Cohen, and some miscellaneous articles from that one girl’s blog.

 

"With an emphasis on storytelling, Adjy cants deeply sincere hymns commemorating doubt, philosophy, the toil and trauma of attempting connection with others -literary theory like a love lost, or a medical textbook -all through the autobiographical perspective, and personal myth-arc of Noyes." -NPR's Ira Glasse

 

There are some narratives best lived, felt, and explored. There are some performers that need to be witnessed, and labored with in moments, and there are some who hold (hope)*

 

That art can be a playful exploration, and a meaningful attempt to communicate, as opposed to an approval garnering product slaked only by the admiration of others.

 

As Chris Viscardi has said, "the show was made to be funny, sad, strange and beautiful ….written from the perspective of the kid I wanted to be."

 

"And though most artifice covers malicious, or elusive intent, and though all of this be a magic trick, and an illusion… there is something within the art of storytelling that propels Adjy to brave the broken-down-van-laden excursions like pirates themselves, entertain the would-be "rockstar" company found in the sweaty, smoky bars, the immaculately manicured coffee shops, and the self-serving, bizarre, artificial world of musicians, to uncomfortably stand on a stage beneath lights like some vestigial memory of a religious ceremony -wiggling around like fools…and it's because they're fools in love that they brave this madness."[9]

 

-Baudrillard

 

(As the Philosopher[10] says, "Are the hands that lay quotes about their own words guilty of vanity?[11]"  I'd like to believe the suspension of the suspension of disbelief requires consent. A lot of people have good ideas, a few of them follow through with them.)*

 

-3 6 9[12]

 

 

[1] Prelude (.3333)

[2] September 24, 1936 – May 16, 1990

[3] Oxford Library (though copies of this book still exist, they are so heavily translated and edited for ‘commercial value’ scholars largely discredit it as authoritative) *?

[4] Jean Lafonde’s Architecture of the Surreal ­-a Survival Guide to the Last Surviving Guide

[5] Services discontinued later that year after much Fear and Trembling. (John of Silence?)*

[6] Life on the Mississippi

[7]  While the editor first thought this to be the prolific abstract expressionist painter, Jackson Pollock, the usage implied “Jackson” was a surname. Further investigation proved fruitless as Samuel L would not return our calls, and the 5 have long since parted ways, leaving only a long dead civil war figure the only possible candidate (impossible)* since it’s well known the name “Jackson” has dwindled into obscurity -apart from the above examples-  like the once proud “Ninus” of the Assyrians, and Moon Shoes.

[8] Or “Tonight Tonight”... there’s a line...

[9] Little known science fiction sequel A Similar Simulation

[10] Several inquiries have been made into who this enigmatic “philosopher” is, but no conclusive case has been made. Many believed the Derridean contemporary Jacques Lacan to be the culprit, while others argue that it was the snow-haired frenchman himself under Lacan’s name as a critique on his “violence to the text,” claiming that it was no time to kill an author. (even the ones responsible for drive-by biographies.)*

[11] “Unknown”

[12] “*”added at Editor’s request