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New Ways For Old Days

by Meridian

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1.
48 degrees felt just like summer April ‘14. It was the first warm day I’d seen since I moved to Gordon Square. And as I ran along the water, I was calm and pure and honest. It was fleeting, but I felt it. Fighting back a few years’ worth of stringing it together. I called Bulger, I called Josh and I left messages for both. Cooking dinner, writing postcards, smiling like a dog in water. We invent the days that we don’t wanna lose. The days I saved for you. Climbing out a self-dug hole of seasonal depression. Shedding layers, shedding skin, talking shit with childhood friends. Tracking footprints on the carpet, tracing lines across the country. The only plan has always been to make more plans. Days I saved for you, painted gold and blue. Chasing light and sound. Never coming down.
2.
We talk a lot about chemicals and how we’re both so easily affected. Hearts like humming amplifiers with the gain turned up. I examine your kitchen. You read me poems in the living room. You asked me what the light symbolized. I said, “It could be the truth, or really anything.” You don’t get to decide how somebody feels about you, but you can spin it a little bit. Maybe the purest motive is to say, “I just want what I want. I haven’t given it too much thought yet. I just want what I want.” We talk a lot about solitude and how easy it is to feel alone here. Ask me if I still like all the same bands that I used to. Well, of course I do. Now I’m a train passenger, powerless. Steady shaking off the sugar and the sleeplessness. Lips numb with the knowledge that I laid it out the best I could. You don’t get to pretend that you spent less time than you did waiting on a windfall. Does it all have to be so heavy? Baby, I just want what I want. I haven’t given it too much thought yet. I just want what I want. There is a heat rising off every word. Voices resounding sound like nothing I’ve ever heard. I will no longer bite my tongue for getting good at being young. We talk a lot about distance and where we’d be if it weren’t for where we were now.
3.
4.
She said, “I’ve been saving all my money. I could buy a car and drive to you. I got all this cash, and I’m looking to spend it. I got all this love. I don’t know what to do. I could span the state of Pennsylvania. I could be there when you need me to be. Every bone in my body’s telling me that you’re worth it. What is the worth you see in me? Is this what you do to all the others? Just roll into town and have your fun? Do you disappear when shit gets heavy? Do you even let them know you’re done?” There is power in the union of open hearts and tangled veins. And attraction only breeds confusion, cause when the bodies part, the want remains. So while you slide back to what’s familiar, I’ll be scratching at the door of what’s to come. Yeah, wait, I’m patiently awake and filled with longing. Fingers crossed, won’t come undone. And oh, I know how we both get weary. And oh, I know how you love getting lost. But I catch fire whenever you’re near me. Whatever the damage, I’ll cover the cost.
5.
I’m dusting off the lenses so I can focus on the last year in real-time. Logic’s in the left brain but I wrestle with my right side all night, and it’s warmer than it should be outside. Would you have the same problems in a new place? Are you resolute enough to shed your dead weight? And when asked for a direction, leave the form blank, slide out with a smile and a “no, thanks,” and find another flaw on which to fixate. But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? I still keep a list taped to my wall. It’ll take the paint with it when I peel it off. And I think it’s comparable to how we all carry the colors from all our former lovers as we move on. So do with all your time what you will. Take a running start or stay here at a standstill. And I know there are certain kinds of people who don’t do what they gotta do to get well. But you can still go to shows alone. You can leave when you want to. This is not the only place. All my problems, frozen in midair. I didn’t notice they were gone, I just kept moving and they stayed there. Constant motion, forever unprepared to accept my good luck for once. Don’t fight it.
6.
7.
Left your apartment high on the subway back to the upper west side with a smile to split a hole in your borrowed skyline. You say it feels like you live here now, that comfort comes if you just wait it out, and I’d wait with you if I could find the time. But I won’t give in to the summer pressure. All awkward angles here, mixed with coffee, sweat and unfinished beer. I’m an ill-fitting frame and you’re a masterpiece. Oh, I talk so much shit, like, “everything you’re feeling right now is legitimate.” And I wince at the playback: “That doesn’t sound like me.” But I won’t give in to the summer pressure. No, don’t you give in now. Just wait it out. Yeah, I’ll be patient, but I’m waiting, and I won’t give in to the summer pressure.
8.
Count down the days, dear, until I fall into place here. I will be upstairs until then, looking for new ways to process those old days. Gift wraps and papers. I wish that I could stay here. Call off the search on me now. You know where I’ll be found. Darling, just look down. I knew I’d find you here. In a first-floor apartment on the near west side with the traffic ringing clear across the bridge into your room. Yeah, I know you had to go but I didn’t think it’d be so soon. Late summer rainstorms. We would hide out and stay warm. I was so safe in September with you. I know I’m supposed to, but how do I get through? These days, I’m making distant connections without any real direction, but you just made so much sense of it all. Darling, I’d still call but you just let me fall. I knew I’d find you here. In a first-floor apartment on the near west side with the traffic ringing clear across the bridge into your room. Yeah, I know you had to go but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.
9.
I’m kicking the clothes that line my bedroom floor and stretching the ties that bind me here. I’m shaking the dust off September so far. A mental health day that spans a year. I scribble down false prophecies, cardinal sins and deadbeat dreams. You give off a glow now. I know you’re looking out for me. Stellar and spaced out. It’s the only way that I know how to be. I’m calling old friends to make sure they’re real and taking the lines from my favorite songs. If good artists borrow but the great ones steal, have I been doing this all wrong? I illustrate my indolence. A past that prowls in the present tense. You give off a glow now. I know you’re looking out for me. Stellar and spaced out. It’s the only way that I know how to be. A soft-edged light. A slender frame. Apparitions whisper my name.
10.
On my first night away, I honestly thought I’d have much more to say than the same old selfish refrain that I’ve been repeating since I learned my name. And what do I have to do but soldier on and prove to you that a life can be lived in spite of the ghosts that rent rooms in my brain every night? And I’ll throw them out, but they make their way back the next day with the looming doubt I’ll be fine on my first night away.

about

The Stern brothers don’t live in Cleveland anymore. In late 2016, Max (Signals Midwest, Timeshares, Orbits) made the time-honored Millennial Musician’s Migration to Philadelphia and Jake has lived in Pittsburgh since 2012, now playing in the local indie/slacker rock outfit, Same. But time and distance be damned, they’ve always found time for Meridian, and the fraternal folk act’s upcoming full-length, New Ways For Old Days (out October 21st, 2022 on Sleep Recordings), rewards that labor of patience and persistence.

Meridian was born on borrowed time, unofficially bubbling over the guitar lessons that Max gave Jake as early as 2008 before gradually drifting toward mutual collaboration, playing shows together (either as an acoustic duo or with a full backing cast) and making records. Facilitated by a shifting cast of collaborators and engineers, Meridian’s back catalog is similarly happenstance, consisting of split 7” releases, half-demos in childhood bedrooms, and ambitious lo-fi recording challenges alongside two “proper” LPs, 2014’s The Cathedral and 2012’s Aging Truths. School, jobs and geography can relegate almost anything, but the brothers spent 2015 and 2016 wedging tours (through the American southeast, Australia and China) between other life commitments before shifting focus toward their next record.

In customary Meridian style, writing for NWFOD unfolded sporadically from 2013 to 2017. Now a prolific solo artist, Max continues to view Meridian as a comfortable vehicle for songs that didn’t necessarily fit into his other projects: “I try not to pick it apart too much compared to the other stuff. Especially working with my brother–it’s nice when it’s a gut-instinct kind of thing.” Beginning in January 2018 and continuing through the end of 2019, Jake made intermittent eastward pilgrimages to meet Max at Philadelphia’s The Metal Shop for tracking, where Meridian’s Ohio contingency of Tim Carlson (drums, percussion), Steve Gibson (bass) and Jeremy Provchy (electric guitar) would gather to round out the arrangements.

Against a transient web of interstates and apartment staircases, Max paints a familiar picture of imperfect young adulthood. He explores the corners of changing cities with old friends in songs like “Make More Plans” and “Summer Pressure”, while straining the shrinking boundary between independence and selfishness in “Go to Shows Alone” and “Conversation With a Friend in Brooklyn.” Across the record’s 10 songs, Max tests the core thesis that maybe you don’t actually have to know everything right now - and maybe that’s part of figuring this whole thing out.

While Max’s weathered songwriting (reinforced by Jake’s harmonies) lays the groundwork for NWFOD, the expanding array of contributors bring his songs to life as a realized, fleshed-out Meridian record. Auxiliary percussion and keyboard layers adorn the softer, folk-oriented songs, accompanied by Kell Kellum’s steel guitar, tracked remotely from Oxford, Mississippi. At more rock-leaning moments, Jake’s electric guitar wiggles in and out of phrases on “Go to Shows Alone” before crescendoing to full-on, bent guitar lines at the end of the album’s title track and “Give Off a Glow”. The rhythm section of Carlson and Gibson provide a steady cushion for the record’s varied arrangements, carefully doling out momentum and weight in equal measure when appropriate.

Although most songs on NWFOD deploy the full backing band, Meridian’s core duo has always been comfortable operating on their own. “In the beginning, we just wanted to do our own version of The Avett Brothers,” says Max. “And I don’t know if it ever got too far from that.” Meridian’s split identity as a spontaneous, parlor-ready acoustic duo is most on display in “Fingers Crossed”, tracked together and captured by a single room microphone. Two sparse, acoustic field recordings further offset the album’s full-band, layered arrangements. Performed, fittingly, on a family vacation in Lake Harmony, PA, “Days I Saved For You” and “Painted Gold and Blue” - an instrumental redux of the record’s title track - see Max and Jake sitting around a campfire, strumming into the night on guitar and banjo.

In some ways, Meridian will always operate from an easygoing, coincidental vantage point. Popping up where possible, sourcing workable tidbits on family getaways, playing shows in whatever configuration makes itself available and releasing music at their own pace. The future remains uncertain but for now, Meridian is back with a record full of what they do best, New Ways for Old Days.

credits

released October 21, 2022

Songs written between 2013 and 2017 and recorded sporadically throughout 2018 and 2019. Mastered in 2020. Pressed in 2021. Released in 2022. Sorry it took so long.

Lovingly produced, engineered, and mixed by Ian Farmer at The Metal Shop in Philadelphia, PA.

Assistant engineering by Zach Williams, Brendan Simpson, Curtis McDevitt and Kian Stevens

Personnel:
Maxwell Stern - vocals, acoustic guitar, banjo, electric guitar, keys, production
Jake Stern - electric guitar, banjo, vocals, keys, production
Tim Carlson - drums, percussion, vibe technician
Steve Gibson - bass, drums on track 10
Jeremy Provchy - electric guitar

with:
Ian Farmer - tambourine on tracks 2 and 5, bass on track 10, drum machine on track 1
Zack Robbins - shaker & tambourine on tracks 1, 5, 7, 8 and 9
Kell Kellum - pedal steel on tracks 1, 7, and 8

Tracks 3 and 6 recorded on a pitch-black night around a campfire on August 24th, 2019 in Lake Harmony, PA

Front and back cover paintings by Patrick Fennessy
Layout by Maxwell Stern

Mastered by Ryan Schwabe

Released by Sleep Recordings (SLP-117).

THANK YOU:

Matt, Clara & Shanna Fritsch-Arbogast, The Stern / Gibson / Carlson / Provchy families, Ian Farmer, Zack Robbins, Kell Kellum, Patrick Fennessy, The Van Breda family, the Drayton family, Spencer Scott, Luca Brasi, Pinch Hitter, The Smith Street Band, Brian Ostrander, Grog Shop, Scott Heisel, Aubrey Welbers, Rosie, Caleb, Nate & Mike Ford, Barbara & Harold Mendes, Jenny Mendes, Mark Roegner, Sara Buchholz, Sarah Mount, Dakota Floyd, Jose Prieto (sorry about your sink), Jessica Flynn, Carly Hoskins, Max Bulger, Matt Cohen, Kory Gregory, Tim Avery, Harley Cox, Brett Shumaker, Randy Reddell, and you. This record took a long time to make. Thanks for stickin’ with us.

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Meridian Cleveland, Ohio

Jake, Max, Steve, Tim and Rozco. five nice midwesterners that play tunes for you.

currently spread across Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. occasionally reconvening to make music, drink whiskey and play pinball.

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