Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Sing, Sweet Broken Hearted - Available January 2012

Here's the new cover art and lyrics for my upcoming album. 
Be sure to pick up the new record "Sing, Sweet Broken Hearted" available January 2012 on iTunes/Amazon.
Until then, check out for a FREE download of "You'll Find Love" (feat. Kalyn Eastman/Jaron Clark), live tracks and alternate mixes of songs from the record.  
I've been working hard booking shows across the country so check back soon for a complete list of dates and tour information! Enjoy!

Hey Darlin'
In my heart there are walls higher than the trees
But no one knows, no one knows but me
Yet still you set me burning just like gasoline
But no one knows, no one knows but me

I don't have the words to tell you all these words are about you
But I want you to know that it's you that I'm dreaming of
But no one knows, no one knows but me

I've never been too good at that whole trusting thing
But no one knows, no one knows but me
Yet still you seem to find the very best in me
But no one knows, no one knows but me

Darlin' this whole city seems a constant uphill stream of endless motion
But girl you look so pretty so let's you and me go run out to the ocean - and never leave
Somewhere no one knows, no one knows but you and me

You'll Find Love
He sold knives and rosaries by the riverbed
In a coat sewn by his mother dear, that still caused memories of tears to flood his head
But he wore it to recall the words she said. When she said;

You’ll find love one day, oh. You’ll find love
You’ll find love one day, oh you’ll find love

She was born to life atop a circus wire
Until a series of events with kerosene and unattended elephants transpired
And the circus was destroyed by means of fire
So splendid was his smile when she saw him there peddling his cutlery
Concealed by camouflage of trees she so anxiously stared
But through the branches he saw her beauty un-compared

She said:
I’ll find love one day, oh. I’ll find love
I’ll find love one day, oh I’ll find love

But then one night a note and knife stuck in her tree she found.
It read:

Angel of mystery,
If you want to see me, if you want to meet me than come down tonight
 to the waterside
We can dance in the moonlight until the morning breaks the night
But if you don’t want to then it’s quite alright
I’ll be alright; oh I’ll be just fine

So she put on her best gypsy gown and came down from the tree
To the sight of a crowd gathered ‘round the estuary

For tragedy that evening struck the humble town
The water-gates had finally cracked but carried safely on his back
He’d swam the orphans all to higher ground
But heroic deeds can lead to heroes drowned

She ran to his side as they dragged him from the waves
And oh, how she cried when the savior could not be saved
“He was my one and only love” she claimed

But I’ll find love one day, oh. I’ll find love
I’ll find love one day. Oh, I’ll fine love
Love, love, love, love, love I’ll find love


Please, Don't Eat the Flowers
What would you do if I promised you the moon then gave you the world instead?
Would you laugh at the exchange or be angry because I changed my word and hang your crying head?
If I promised you flowers then brought you April showers that made the chrysanthemums bloom
Would you clap with delight at the change oh so slight or accuse me of lying to you?

If you want to find a better man
Go ahead and try if you can
Where are you gonna find a better man?
No one else can love you like I can
Not another one can understand
You’re never gonna find a better man

If I swore not to change the way I feel today but then fell more in love with you
Would you cry, cry, cry, cry and lie down and die and accuse me of being untrue?

If you put down your knife and I put down my gun
Would we stop this fight and straight to arm in arm run?
Our hearts beat through our chest like pounding cannonballs
Yet still we both resist the urge that’s begging us to fall
We’re afraid to fall in love because we’ve watched love fall apart
So we change the combination to the safes around our hearts
Oh, how it hurts - trying oh so hard not to get hurt

The Waiting
Oh, my mother, I was born only moments before
You died and they carried you away
Sent to walk alone for my father was unknown
Upon these streets will I walk and will I lay

Alone, alone and orphan on my own
Until the pale moon shines upon my grave

My mother I have tried to be your joy and pride
But failure comes naturally to me
All these sins I find passing before my eyes
I pray soon one day I’ll be redeemed

Alone, alone and orphan on my own
Until the pale moon shines upon my grave
Alone, alone just hollow flesh and bone
This world’s a waiting room for judgment day
hey hey hey - hey hey hey hey

But I’ll see the sunshine some morning
So I timidly smile because I know in awhile I’ll be free
So I’ll bloody my feet on this gravel where I walk and sleep - until then

Oh, my mother, you’ll be joined by a broken wounded boy
When the angels have carried me away
hey hey hey - hey hey hey hey

Who I Am
Hold on, I hold on
To the prayer I’ll become the man I’m born to be
I’m the final leaf on a withered tree in a struggle to decide
Should I hold through the cold alone or conform and fall and die?

Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?
I’m trying oh, so hard to find who I should be
Do you know who I am? I’m begging, Mister, please.
Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?
If you know who I am can you tell me?

When did I become just some foreign currency
That’s valuable to someone somewhere – but here I’m worth nothing?
The most elegant of poetry in a language you can’t read
To the right eyes I’m beautiful but you don’t understand me

I’m an escalator broken down and in need of inspection
No up or down – I’m just stairs now - with ambiguous direction
A single card missing from a deck that leaves the whole game unenjoyed
It’s funny how just one thing can leave you void

 Woman Bound
I was woman born; now I’m woman dead
‘Cus that woman came then that woman left
She set my heart to raging flame
That was then put out by my tears like rain

I go down, down in misery ‘cus that girl got a hold of me
I’ll drown, drown, drown in the raging sea until she’s gone away from memory

I was woman free; now I’m woman bound
‘Cus that same old woman came back around
I’ve begged her to go but she’s promised to stay
Leave that woman alone or you’ll become woman chained
All alone I was lonely; but I’m begging for lonely right now
‘Cus that girl is looking so homely there in that wedding gown

I was woman born; now I’m woman dead
‘cus that woman came but she never left me

Goodmorning, my dear
I’m so glad you found me here
Let me linger on your lips and take your breath away
You use me to get through; then claim I’m only killing you
Then the moment that you’re done with me you throw me in the drain

But oh, me, I see that you’re only using me
The moment that the flame is gone you’re gone without goodbye
But it’s so clear to see that you still depend on me
Even though you claim that I’m not even in your life

I’m your cigarette; see that you never will forget me
Even though you’ve burned me out to ashes
But who’s the weaker one; I’m not in need of anyone
And you cling to all my friends left in the package

Oh, like smoke through the air we were gone
We’re gone like smoke through the air

Oh! My Soul
The hardened heart will break just like a stone being crushed
By the hammer of a slave on the old railway lines
The whore and the saint will both be judged as one that day
When the master, finally humbled, with his servants he has dined

Oh, my soul will be free one day
When my heart has asked for one more beat than God’s willing to pay
Then I, oh I, I’ll be carried away
And my flesh will not stay bone when I have been laid in my grave
No, my flesh will not stay bone when I have been laid in my grave

They hung tight a rope around the stealing man’s neck
Before he rocked like a cradle in the wind gently blowing
He said, “The atheist will burn in hell right there beside me
The only difference is that I know and believe that I’m going”
The borders all will fall just like a man being shot
In the back by the hand of the law for stealing bread
And the soldiers then will march at sweet Armageddon’s call
When the devil’s learned to pray and we’re all saved by the dead

Some Kind of Dream
All these chances I take fly like a sparrow toward some kind of dream
But regrets and mistakes are a barrel pointed at me
There’s no mountain too high when you’ve learned how to fly
Just spread your wings and lift off the ground
But the problem with flying is; no matter how I try it ends with
READY! AIM! FIRE! - BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! - Shoot me down

But I searched through the streets just looking for some kind of dream
Always praying that I would find something or something would find me

A shot ripped through my heart and I fell through the branches and into the dark
But I was higher on the mountain than I’d ever fallen before
That’s where I met you, broken and bleeding, just a wandering dreamer like me
And when I looked at you, pretty darlin’, I finally could see

That I’d searched through the streets just looking for some kind of dream
Always praying I would find something or something would find me
I’d traveled the world looking for diamonds and pearls
But I found all I needed when I found a beautiful girl

There’s nothing so wonderful as finding your sweet peace of mind
 I’ve never seen beautiful the way that I see in your eyes
If I hadn’t been shot down learning to fly
I’d still be searching for something my fall helped me find
I thank God I was shot…

Sing, Sweet Broken Hearted/The Declaration
It’s been the hardest year of my life so far
The surgeon hands of time still work to mend my heart
I died the day that I lost my wife
But somehow dying taught me how to be alive
I made bags of riches more than eyes have seen
That served as temporary peace in a world of shattered dreams
But as fast as they were given they were taken back from me
But I found peace in misery

Swing low, sweet chariot
Come down and carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Oh Lord, I’m so tired of being alone…

I searched to find solution but it seemed
That every weary path was wrong
I slept in cars in graveyards and parking lots for months
Never before had lonely hit so strong
But in my darkest time of need, Oh Lord, you forced me to see
That even through the blackness, the pain and the fear
You’d been hanging on to me
So I sang it, I sang it, I sang –

Swing low, sweet chariot
Come down and carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Oh Lord, I’m so tired of being alone…

I’m broken but I’m not broken down
I’m torn but I’m not torn apart
I’m shattered now but I can still stand
You can never break an already broken heart

I’m not broken anymore my love
I guess I’m stronger than you thought I was
I’m not torn, I’m not crushed – I’m something beautiful…

All songs copyright © 2011 Jordan Eastman Music and property of Jordan Eastman music and Soundwire Records
 They may not be distributed or altered in any way without the artist's permission

Thursday, December 15, 2011


Love? What is love? Love eternal, on the other hand...well, can love last eternally? Love only lasts as long as one allows it to remain; and to remain eternal is another thing entirely. We fall in love in an instant and fall out of love in the same. Like a flicker it's past and we're off in search of some new flame to kindle our smoldering desire for passionate amity. This time of year people become foreign and Christmas dissects their emotions to reveal the hidden depression or undisclosed affection buried within their hearts. We either cling to each other or wind up remembering the people we no longer cling to.
It's the time of year people either get married or commit suicide; sometimes both. It's kind of liberating.

I keep watching everyone else fall apart and it makes me happy knowing that I fell apart first. It's a horrible game to have won, but a victory nonetheless. It's been a balanced scale of passion and misery, where for every wedding band there lies unfaithfulness, and for each engagement photo taken, another's photo album is thrown in the fire to be forgotten...and somehow I've found myself in the middle of all this trying to make sense of it all. Apparently my affinity for relational collapse comes as a strange form of solace for most, as I perpetually find myself taking the position of counselor; a strange calling for someone with such a strong sense of calloused apathy to be given. Regardless, it's left me thinking and makes me remember why closeness often frightens me. At least in its initial stages. Growing up sucks. I've thought a lot about that too, actually. I grew up once. It nearly killed me. Maybe the whole thing was wrong. You've grown up and turned into this beautiful woman; you may be throwing your whole life away by doing so, but hey, at least you'll look pretty during the transition; while I, miserable I, remain desperately clinging to the same boyish youthfulness and child-like fantasies of yesterday. I keep chasing things that you claim to support me in from the comfort of your quaint two bedroom condominium in the darling suburbs. I guess I just grew up differently. Maybe we never grew up at all.

All of these things run through my head. I sit here awhile while I try to sort them out and make sense of everyone else's destruction. A message from an old girlfriend comes in and I realize, for the first time, that we're all in the same situation. I disregard the flirting comments and pretend to be oblivious to her obvious attempts to hook up. We talk awhile. Say goodnight and it's over. Hopefully forever. I kind of laugh a little. It's grey outside now. I guess it's finally Christmas; the time of year when everybody's looking for somebody and nobody wants to be the somebody nobody else is looking for. I'm glad I'm alone. Maybe things are easier that way. Maybe things have been perfect all along...

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

What's it Take to Get Smile Around Here?

The last few days have been strange for me. I bought a hat. Think of that. A blog post about a trapper cap. It's kind of stupid looking but it's warm and keeps my ears from freezing - the hat, that is. The blog looks relatively normal and doesn't keep me warm at all...
It snowed a bit tonight. That's foreign to me. It wasn't much, just enough to make me realize it's supposed to be Christmas and for the second year in a row I don't care. I just want to leave again. I like leaving. It means I'll soon be somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't where I was before. Anywhere, really.

I set my hair on fire today. There's something weird but not entirely surprising. True story. I stuck my hand in my pocket and found a lighter. Why it was there, I'm not sure; but it was there all the same. I was talking to someone about lighting my hair on fire and it just sort of happened. I don't need to cut my bangs, I guess. It's amazing how quickly hair burns. I'm not sure how Nero tolerated the smell.

On a relatively normal note, I've been booking US tour dates non-stop for the last several weeks. We'll be gone around month straight. Two days off. It's ironic that I decided to book shows in the north-east during the coldest time of the year. We're working our way from Chicago to Manhattan in the middle of February. How stupid. Only vikings plan trips that way. At least we'll be making our way down the east coast and into Texas by the end of March. I'm really excited to be on the road again. It's been too long. Not to mention this time I'm not playing for anyone else. Look at that, I did my own thing. Who'd have ever thought...
We're playing some fantastic places I haven't been in years, and some cities I've never performed in. I'm excited to play in New York and Philly. Both great cities with awesome crowds. Overall, I think it's going to be a good time...but I'll post more on that as things progress. 

So there's this record I've been working on...
Record comes out soon! I'm going to post the lyrics for the whole album, cover art and release date information in the next week or keep a look out!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

We Tired and Shameless Few

Life is a war in which we fight to the death, glance back from our hospital beds and applaud whoever has accomplished the most. Like a photograph, it flashes, we pause, then look back at the still-frame in mocking agony of what used to be. Why is success placed before living? Why view life as an opportunity to become something rather than an opportunity to experience? Yet here we are, stuck in relationships we want out of, working jobs we want to escape and bound by the assumption that risk is the potential invitation of failure. It's easy, I guess. People tell me far too often that they wish they could do things when, in reality, if they simply did them their desires would come to fruition. Is it fear or just the love of simplicity? Things are easiest when they're familiar. People do things all the time because coping with consistency is easier than the discomfort of change...even if change is the remedy to their affliction. I understand responsibility and respect success, but to place it before enjoying life seems sinfully flawed. It's easy to talk of aspirations from a recliner - but another thing entirely to bleed-out, striving to obtain those aspirations and use the recliner to tell the story of your success some day in the future. It bothers me. Sure there are subtle, underlying frustrations streaming through this entire dissertation; but regardless, the point stands true. Whatever. I'm tired of it. What purpose does a rant serve besides self-gratification anyway? Rants are like humanity in winter. We start warm and conversational, sitting by a fire, maybe. It's safe here. The walls protect us from the elements of the caloused world outside. Conversation changes and, somehow, the topic deepens. Someone gets upset. Their stiffened ego was injured. Voices rise and we step outside into the cold. Grumbling a bit we might take a few steps. The stairs are slippery. We're cautious. Eventually, we find the freezing obnoxiousness of the whole situation taking it's tole and we, who once stood upright and fought for our God-given opinions, now look tired and old; hunched over, arms clenched tightly about ourselves like defenseless children. It's too cold to argue. Nothing really matters anyway. The harsh stinging of everything combined becomes too much to bear and we forget whatever it was that started this whole thing in the first place. We cough a little. It's freezing. We make our way back through the door and rush to the warming arms of the welcoming fire. The others soon follow and we all laugh at the silliness of the whole situation. Soon our cheeks are reddened by the glow and all is forgotten. It's over now; but a while will pass and the whole thing will repeat itself. Pointless. What is the point? There is no point. It's all a bunch of pointless pointlessness. Sometimes the pointlessness seems more convincing than others. That's just good salesmanship; but it remains pointless nonetheless. It's like a big vat where everyone tosses in their opinions, we sort them out one by one until we all agree, but by the time we've reached where we started the opinions have all changed and the whole thing starts over. Pointlessness. What is pointlessness anyway? Why don't we just call it trainwreck? Trainwreck. The whole pointless thing is a stupid trainwreck and nothing makes sense anymore. Who's writing this whole thing, anyway? Take the pieces, one at a time. Inspect them. Twist them. Mold them. Force them into little shapes and make them fit back together until you find the original thought behind the whole stupid thing. I bet your thoughts on the original thought are different than you originally thought they were. It's cruel, isn't it. No one knows anything yet we all know everything. A strange paradox of the wisdom of fools. A viscous labyrinth of time. We work to support our reproductions, reproduce to create more hands to work and work at reproduction like it's last good thing the good Lord left behind...

What does any of this matter...they're just words anyway. I could say, "Panda bear, fruit dance, bubble gum, rainbows" with any sense of conviction and some rambling idiot would call me genius. It's a travesty. A perverse, all forsaken travesty...

In the end,I'll leave it all alone...

“When did your childhood end? How badly did you get hurt, when you did, when you were this little wee little hurtable thing, nothing but big eyes, a heart, a few hundred words? Isn’t it wonderful how we never recover? Injuries and wounds, ladies and gents. Slights and abuses, oh, what a paradise. Living in fear, suiting the hurt to our need. What a happy life. What a good game. Who can stand the most, the most life, and still smile, still grin into the coming night and say more, more, encore, encore, you fates, just give me more, more, more of the bloody bloody same.”  - Will Eno

Monday, December 5, 2011

Tazing a Drunken Isaac Newton: Pt II

For those of you who have not read Part I of this adventure, please visit before continuing

For those who have, there are new developments in the story....

As you know, after screaming frantically while attempting to beat down the door, the police arrived and the drunken assailant took off at a dead run in the opposite direction. At this point, there was a 5-10 minute segment where the police where wandering about looking for the man before he came sprinting out of someone's backyard and across our complex parking lot. During this lull, we became the closest of friends with the drunk group of people who were being attacked by the Running-Man. In fact, we became so close that Blake and I will be standing in one of their weddings. Mark your calendars.

Anyway, after running into one of the fine women who, ironically enough, was returning from the court-case pertaining to this event, I was given the full details of what happened during those seemingly uneventful minutes of the Running-Man's absence...

...they go a little like this...

As it turns out, he really was a professional fighter. Go figure. This discovery was made after several police had arrived and were searching the surrounding areas for his whereabouts. While we were standing there, wondering where he'd run, the police had chased him into a backyard and were attempting to apprehend him; at which point brother went to town beating down police officers and trying to escape until he was tazed - for the first time. After being stunned, he ran from the backyard and toward our complex - and was quickly tazed again. This time he reacted by throwing a police officer into a chain-link fence. In response, a second officer threw Running-Man into a fence and proceeded to taze him again - several times - resulting in the viscous screams we heard from the parking lot. While attempting to walk him back, homeboy took off again, ran through our complex, back into our line of sight and the rest, as you know, is flat-out, downright amazing, history at its finest.

And that, my friends, is an amazing story.