The Square Life

“Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.”
- Alphonse de Lamartine

Anyone who has heard the music of Brinton Jones will agree that his songs are literature of the heart. Like a book bound by melody, harmony, and honesty, they unfold before you. Paragraphs become verses and chapters become choruses, leaving room for interpretation & relation. Brinton is an author as much as he is a songwriter. After you’ve heard his music and shut the book, you feel close to something that, before, felt so far away. You long to hear it again.
Over two years ago, Brinton and his band (then named Palomino, now named The Devil Whale) entered a studio in Seattle with hopes of recording their first full-length album. Clouds covered the sky and rain incessantly fell onto the ground. Circumstances, unlike the weather, changed; and so did band members. The Devil Whale continued to play live, and a growing audience anxiously awaited the release of their much-anticipated album. Time passed, and the recordings sat unheard, gathering meaning in their silence…a silence that would soon speak way too loud.
Straining to sing songs once sung effortlessly, Brinton began to worry. What he thought to be a simple sore throat quickly developed into something more serious. Optimistic, he assumed that his voice was just tired and, with some rest, would soon return to normal, but it didn’t. In fact, it got worse. Brinton went from holistic healers to renowned throat specialists searching for help. The outlook wasn’t good. He was told that he might never sing again. Healers recommended tea and doctors prescribed medications. Instead, he chose a prescription of silence.
Imagine an athlete losing a limb or a surgeon losing their sight. What would you do if your primary source of expression, existence, and livelihood were threatened? Would you quit and retreat from the inevitable pain that is sure to ensue? Or would you face the reality and bravely ask: just how important is that part of myself?
I saw Brinton once during this time of silence. He spoke softly, shouting whispers into my open ears. I don’t know... Things are just so different now. I’ve never been this sad...or afraid. No tears fell, but it felt like we were both crying.
Given the relatively small amount of loss that I have endured in my fortunate life, it was easy for me to assume the best. I’ve lost love, friendship, and focus, amongst other things. But I’ve never lost something that is so much a part of me as Brinton’s voice is to him.
“I’ve never been so scared of losing anything. I watched the planets fall apart, but I’m okay…” Brinton’s words have never rung so true. Cut closely by a knife, the mysterious lump was carefully removed from his vocal chords and the healing process began.
With a new name and a renewed sense of self, The Devil Whale has recently (and finally) released their long awaited album, “Like Paraders.” If you listen closely, it is clear that Brinton, too, has lost love and friendship. I speak for many when I say, we are grateful that he didn’t also lose his focus or his voice.