the salt seal isthmus

a follow-on project from A Pocket Full of Seeds



Nathan Evans Fox


Picking this album title was a strange thing. During the first round of brainstorming, I plumbed my lyrics for some favorite phrases. My wife and I went back to the drawing board when we realized that most of my favorite phrases sounded like very elaborate sexual innuendos when they were decontextualized from their respective tunes. When I returned to the lyrics again for the second round of brainstorming, I came out with huge chunks of verses, meaning the album title would read more like the ending of Ulysses than a quippy phrase. Finally, one night my wife and I were sitting in our car outside our newly rented house staring at the unkempt ivy suffocating the brick, the overgrown bamboo pushing under our window shutters, the fissures in the foundation crescendoing into leaning walls, and the shingles sagging off the rotting corners of the roof. Our recent conversations had been about the places we had lived, our hopes for life in a new city, and, like any good couple who recently moved from a New York City shoebox apartment, how badly we needed (read: deserved) a puppy. Only a few months earlier, I had done the math--over the last six years, I’ve moved residences an average of 3 times a year. And God knows I never expected to end up in New York City, let alone Texas.

Sitting in the car outside our decaying bungalow, I proposed we call the album “Home”. Even though there are probably more albums named “Home” than there are cars stuck on US-59 in the middle of Houston rush hour, naming the album “Home” seemed as inevitable as that rush hour traffic on US-59. The album's lyrics are obsessively working with images of, feelings about, and relationships to home, and I was apparently the last one to realize it. Putting that word, “Home,” on the cover isn’t so much giving the album a title as it is placing a huge, flashing billboard on the front that says “Just follow this word and this concept and you’ll probably understand the album better than the fool who wrote it.

George Fetner

Some Things Will Change

Imagine yourself in the middle of your grandparents’ attic. The sunlight beams through cracks that have opened up over decades of subtle shifting. There are boxes everywhere; some open and rifled through and never visited again. Others are in tact and taped shut. You pull one of the open boxes closer to you and peer in, spying artifacts that could tell you more about your family than what you’ve learned about them in your entire life. One of those artifacts is a brass globe the size of a softball, tarnished with fingerprints and dappled with shine like city lights seen from space. The more you investigate this tiny world, the more you find. The more you find, the more curious you are. At the end of the day you’ll tuck it back into its box and keep it as a memory amongst other more impressive artifacts like journals and pictures. And though they tell the stories more clearly, the ambiguity of this brass globe will never settle with you. It will always be the first memory you have of someone else’s.

Salaam Cinema

Salaam Cinema EP

"The world's a circus, don't you be the clown!":

That was the word that was going around,

Sounds pretty good and it rolls off the tongue,

Sounds like a line you would write in a song.

But when you dig into the passage a bit

You'll see that the saying is total bull shit

The worlds not a circus, the world is a bore

And we need more clowns like never before

The passage sounds empty once you have the knowledge

And you will find plenty at your local clown college.

The City of Light

Through The Heartland

the dark is so dark at the edge of dawn

a hard cold clear wind / bare trees and rocks / a rustling bush

the horizon moans / a fawn darts past and gone

my winding path from nowhere to here

widening out and spinning down


i come upon the place / dome like, a small light / hands in my pockets

there’s no way back now / only in and through

inside / i fall into myself / spinning down

a deep wave / wave upon wave

light in dark / dark in light


there’s no way back now / only in and through

Daniella Smith

Freedom Anthem

To me music is the most powerful tool we have to communicate and connect with each other. Music has the power to ignite conversation, and new thought processes. Music can create a connection where there wouldn't  be one otherwise. It feels to me like we live in a time when it is critical to be able have successful communication between all of us. Communication can lead to understanding, and that is promising! It's exciting that art and music can serve as a gateway to connection. We the people are stronger when we are united, when we can see past our differences. Not only see past them, but actually appreciate each other's differences. We change for the better when we acknowledge that we need all of the diversity that nature offers. My latest songs are about the power and freedom that come from evolution and transformation. All which is powered by the energy of Love.

Geena Fontanella


When I went in for a writing session, I didn’t know what I wanted to write about.  At the time, I felt a little numb.  I hadn’t dealt with a lot of personal issues and screw-ups and honestly, didn’t want to deal with them.  I just kept avoiding the issues, but they were keeping me awake at night.  I told my songwriting partner, Thomas Daniel, “I wish there was a Reset button.”  That kind of sparked the concept.  Ironically, the song ended up giving me a new start.  It helped me heal a lot of the shame I had and forced me to recognize my pain.

Although this is my first song release in 3 years, I hope it makes a bold statement for me and my future artistry.  There’s power in pain.  You just have to recognize you have it, and when you finally do, you can help others as well.

Ivory Woods

Ivory Woods

Let the Avalanche In

You were once enough and when you open your eyes it’s like you were never away. It moves through your body in the stillness it always dwelt in. Starts with a shaking motion. Depression turning into creative energy.

So on another February morning you stop digging the ground. Throw yourself into the ivory. Let it come down as it were. You get the vision, then you start sculpting.

It is tricky yet so simple, constant expansion. For every minute you shrink, expand two. 

To be avalanche-sized man must survive one. 

I tell you child

You’re paralysed

And out of time

And so am I

If we decide