by Steve Salett
Steve Salett’s last release, as The Poison Tree in 2011, introduced a new chapter in his wide-ranging career: a wise, playful, and newly gentle songwriting voice that felt both fully-formed and ready to deepen and evolve. That evolution, along with everything else in his life, was stopped in its tracks a few months later by the sudden and unexpected loss of his wife, Estella, to breast cancer.
In the immediate aftermath, Salett’s sole focus was on their two young children, and it wasn’t until years later that he felt drawn back to writing songs. He began searching out lyrical ideas wherever he could find them—dreams, a piece written for a grief support group he attended, an old photograph. “The cliche ‘picking up the pieces’ might be the easiest way to describe how I wrote,” he says.
For help gathering these songs—and in a sense himself—together, Salett turned to his friends Patrick Dillett (Sufjan Stevens, David Byrne, Paul Simon) and Thomas Bartlett (St. Vincent, Florence & the Machine, Yoko Ono), and together they obsessively whittled and sanded and burned until the songs were reduced to their essence: deeply, inescapably personal, but also deeply strange, grappling fiercely with grief, and always at an angle. Salett’s voice emerges here darker than before, dizzying in range from a deep, impossibly rich baritone to a feather-light falsetto.
After finishing these recordings, nearly 7 years ago, Salett found that he wasn’t yet ready to release them in any traditional sense. He says “I put the songs onto mini iPods, and into little linen bags I sewed, with a blank page from one of Estella’s diaries. I made 5 of them, and gave them away on the 5th anniversary of her death. I didn’t know how to share these songs, and I still don’t, but I hope they have something to offer. Grief is universal, and I know that more now. I hope the songs don’t just reflect sadness (they are sad, yes), but also connect to the joy and the love that surrounded me and surrounds me still.”
artwork by DM Stith
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dir. Fritz Myers
No Light But You
I’m not bad
I’m not good
I held my breath as long I could
But I’m not drowned
Lost or found
What picked me up is beneath me now
And I know what I had
And I know what I had
But you’ll never know
You’ll never know
I’ve grown up
I’ve grown up
Oh I don’t know what you’re waiting for
I close my eyes to see that I’m falling too
There’s no light
There’s no light but you
Take my hand
Its made of wood
We can watch it burn
Like the rest of me should
And I know what I had
And I know what I had
But you’ll never know
You’ll never know
But you’ll never know
You’ll never know
I’ve grown up
I’ve grown up
The Girl Who Lost Keys
What kind of man is he
What kind of man is he
Does he grab your arms
Or pull your wrists
Does he tie a string
Where the ends don’t fit
For the girl who lost her keys
What kind of mark he made
What kind of mark he made
Did he walk the halls with a mellow might
Or cut through walls with his razor knife
Or at the bar with a shameless heat
Should’ve known better
But I can’t decide
A hand on the door and one on the pane
He could’ve saved you but he had too much to hide
So for tonight we should feel no shame
What finally set him free
What finally set him free
Did he fall from a debt unpaid
Or spider veined from a rare disease
Or did he turn and walk away
From the girl who lost her keys
Someone I’m like
Someone I’d like
Someone I like
Someone I like
Feathers
Wrap your arms all around me babe
And under skin plant a seed
That’ll tangle in my chest when I breath
I can feel feathers where the strings’ been cut
I’m working
I’m working everyday
I’m working everyday
I’m working everyday
With you by my
With you by my side
Silhouettes oh they cry for you
Through the trees or the corner of my eye
I can feel feathers where the strings’ been cut
I’m working
I’m working everyday
I’m working everyday
I’m working everyday
I’m working everyday
With you by my
With you by my side
Sweet Mama
You were mine don’t forget me now
There’s such a long way to go
With a knee stuck in the ground
I’m sinking oh so slow
Sweet mama wake up
Sweet mama wake up
You’re gonna miss your bus
Sweet mama wake up
Ah there’s a road for us
If you lean lean against me now
I digging through the undergrowth
I’m kicking til my hands grow cold
I’m sinking oh so slow
Sweet mama wake up
Sweet mama wake up
You’re gonna miss your bus
Sweet mama wake up
Ah there’s a road for us
Love’s Not For Kicks
I want you to find your way
And I know you can’t stay
And there’s nothing to say
That’ll change a thing
Oh I’m waking up
I can’t sleep anymore
Breaking up
Love’s not for keeps anymore
And you can only wait
You can only wait so long
And I can only take
I can only take me on
I forgot how it stings
On the edge of the blame
And I don’t owe a thing
Except how I’m made
Shut it up
There’s a stick in the door
The joke is us
Love’s not for kicks anymore
And I can only take
I could only take me on
And you could only wait
You can only wait so long
Lonely Child
Let me go back to you babe
Our reflection off the Great Lakes
Yeah I’m a lonely child
Yeah I’m a lonely child
All the shadows thread the daybreak
And arcing through my headaches
Too much sugar for a dime
Yeah I’m a lonely child
See you standing beside me yeah
Our fingers through the tall waves
You looked at me and smiled
Yeah I’m a lonely child
Steve Salett is a song-writer, producer, and musical advisor whose work has been praised as “Picturesque songs about the broken-hearted” (BrooklynVegan). From early work in The Kelley Deal 6000 and Deformo to the pop stylings of The King of France and heartbreak of The Poison Tree, Salett has honed a songwriting craft steeped in authenticity. A believer in musical community building, Salett runs Reservoir Studios in Manhattan and the Saltmines studio complex in DUMBO, Brooklyn. With the founding of Historical Fiction Records Salett hopes to continue to support exciting and creative musicians by constantly striving to answer the question “What if?”.