LITW: My dear june gloom

John Evermore on the 3rd day.

A quick note regarding this image: Shortly after I put Breakers in a bottle and set it adrift in the digital sea, I began scheming the LITR music video. Although I had reached the top of the first plateau, so to speak, there was another mountain in the distance—one I was already heading toward. There was no vinyl, no hurry—only a flood of ideas and a bucket to catch them.

It started with several film shoots, one of which was a three-day guitar trip into the Sierras—a windy journey, for sure. I stayed in a hotel with a window facing the Sierra, and the Three Amigos kept me company during my midday naps. Each morning and night, I carried my gear up the mountain—this included a few guitars, a DJI camera gimbal setup, an R5, a drone, an iPad monitoring system, and, of course, a playback system and wardrobe. I filmed at sunrise and sunset.

In full costume, I do believe I startled a few friendly hikers who stumbled upon a strange man with a long black and red cape and diamond eyes as they came over the ridge. Oh well—all’s fair in love and war.

On the third day of creation, I rested... and snapped this picture.

It's almost midnight—how about a little update?

It pains me tonight to leave the Canyon of the Wolf. But someone said something to me today, and it awoke a flood of words and emotions. Yes, I’ve actually been hard at work on Hadder things, even though the forest seems quiet and still. Such is life for the alchemist of creation—the red recluse that I am.

Today, someone said to me, “Long is the wait.” And I suppose those were the words I needed to take off my blinders. It broke my hyper-focused attention.

From those words came a flood of deep thoughts—just what I needed, actually, as I was cooking frog legs for some spring soup. I need to jump further, indeed.

Welcome back, Mr. Hadder.

A little story. I was in manufacturing for a long time, trading my life away for money to keep me off the streets. I traveled to the mountains every chance I could—the High Sierra—to chase the light with my camera. I carried a Ka-Bar knife and some bear spray most of the time because I saw a mountain lion once or twice while traveling in the twilight hours. I think I just felt safer knowing I’d put up a fight if I had to, to keep myself from being eaten. Luckily, it never came to that. I upgraded to a .42 caliber later in life when Mr. Hadder started showing up in my loft.

I had a fascination with the stars at night and time-lapse photography during my travels, so I built my own camera remote slider—literally. It took about three months to machine it on a CNC, including the rails, which I cut in Delrin (a small blunder, as temperatures below freezing caused the rails to shrink, which resulted in jittery camera footage in the cold and barren White Mountain landscape). I also wired it to turn on and off automatically in the mountains while I stayed safe in my car from nightly predators. But that’s me—I’m a dreamer.

The opening sequence to the LITR music video is a time-lapse of the mountain above my home that burned—the place where I wrote Breakers. I shot it with my slider just before sunrise, a few months before the fire, during the June gloom months along the Pacific.

The second clip is a scene of the actual view just beyond the breakers along the Pacific—where I spent a lot of quiet time wondering where it all went so wrong. Many words came from that horizon—literally.

It took over two years to record the Breakers record. Two years with blinders on. And when I decided to make a video for Long Is the Road, well, there was still a lot of unfinished business in my life. I never truly completed Breakers. It’s still ongoing. The music videos I’m working on are an extension of it.

Here I am again, with blinders on.

It’s been difficult not revealing too much of what happens in the video—my little ten-minute Avatar movie. Dedicated to someone special—the kind of person who left a mark on me and on hundreds, thousands of others. That’s what this video is all about, after all. Following the light out there, finding yourself—beyond the breakers. It’s about the people and things that inspire us to rise again.

In case you haven’t noticed, Beyond the Breakers is more than just a record filled with songs… and so is this upcoming video. For me, it’s a perfect extension of the record—complete with new musical scores and choirs created just for the video, tracked along my route into Hollywood each day, out of the canyons and under the oaks. And so The Ballad of the Dead Rabbit will be another closing chapter.

To some degree, my detachment from the outside world is a key element of the art I create. Isolation can be a wonderful tool—it can also kill you, by the way.

“Long is the wait,” perhaps. But what is time, really? Are you happy with who you are and what you’re doing? What will decorate your gravestone when you’re gone? Was it worth it? Did it make all your friends happy, or is it deeper than that? Is it personal? Is the story over, or is there another chapter—something ongoing that no one else knows about? Will anyone care… and does that even matter to you?

Okay, okay, I’m coming already—I hear you.

Stay the course, friends.

I wish so many good things for you. When you’re all alone, wondering if anyone cares—yes, I do.

I’ll meet you in the middle, friend. Someday.

Rise and shine.

Find your breakers and f%&k the haters.

—J

P.S. If you’re interested in some stories about Breakers, a few new interviews are up—"The Why" and "More than Gold", feel free to check them out. Thanks to my dear friends across the pond, Lord Yiannis Dolas at Rockpages.gr and Sir Michael Kohsiek at Deaf Forever for asking questions and giving me an early platform to speak on this adventure. I’ll be posting some more interviews soon, including a special one with Mr. Evermore himself, who hijacked one of my interviews with the Italian Rock Hard magazine. And lastly, I’ll be doing an exclusive interview with Jorn Reese at Zephyrs Odem, discussing the LITR video in detail soon after its release.

Thanks, Jorn.

Video info: A few visuals from the soon to be released "Long is the Road" music video.

Key of A

Me and some friends of mine.

 Good day, it’s February. Yesterday, I watched Punxsutawney Phil predict another six weeks of winter, but that didn’t stop the sound of frogs in my yard last night. I heard the first few ribbits of spring off in the distance, and the sun finally lifted over a ridge of oaks that have kept me in the shadows all winter. A lot has happened here in LA to start the year, so let me catch you up on some Hadder things.

Home Again:

First, I am safe. Thank you all for the kind emails during the recent LA wildfires. I was certain I was driving away from my place for the last time on that fateful Tuesday when the Palisades fire started with 100 mph wind gusts. I was in Hollywood when the fire was first reported, and the Palisades are directly behind my home, northwest of the Topanga State Forest that I call my backyard.

It took a while to reach my place that day, and as I raced down Topanga Canyon Blvd, I could see the huge, towering plumes of smoke growing larger as I approached. It was an eerie feeling. I frantically packed my car, not knowing if each trip back inside might be my last before I saw fire or smoke coming down through the forest into my yard. I made a mess of things, tearing apart my recording studio in a quick and chaotic fashion. When I was done, all that remained were wires and some gear I had to make the tough choice to leave behind. The LITR music video hard drives, of course, came with me, as well as all the Breakers master drives. I drove away, looking back at my little place under the oaks, thinking it might be for the last time—my first return to the canyons since the Woolsey fire took my other home.

The first night was the worst, as the 100 mph winds prevented fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters from fighting the fire. I slept in the valley at a friend’s house, occasionally thinking about my place and wondering if it would survive the night. I followed local news reports and community websites where locals documented the battle to save Topanga over the coming weeks. Hadder slowly left my mind as more pressing concerns took over.

A few days later, I realized my little town was essentially being saved on a daily basis as the fire slowly crept toward my community. This went on for about a week, and it became clear that there were two reasons I still have a home today. First, the wind on that first Tuesday was blowing in a southwesterly direction—lucky for me, but not so lucky for so many others, including some neighbors whose homes were directly in the fire’s path. Second, the firefighters who literally stopped the fire as it inched its way eastward toward my backyard and the Topanga community. The destruction it left behind is unbelievable.

My heart breaks for my neighbors who, unlike me, wake up each day wondering what to do next. I want to give them a hug and tell them it’s all right, that they’ll rebuild, and that someday they’ll move past this—but I know from experience that the grief for the home you lost, and more importantly, the memories tied to it, leaves a hole that never truly fills, even in better days or new places. I just feel for them all.

I thought it would be good to share this update, for myself as well, as it brought back a lot of old feelings and memories.

Breakers II

For the last week or so, I’ve just been grateful to be back home. I set up the studio again, plugged all the wires back into their little magic music boxes, and everything fired up. That was a relief—you never know.

The LITR music video is sitting a little idle while I’ve been having fun writing music again. I forget sometimes, because I’m forced to handle so many other aspects of Hadder, that really—I just love writing music, singing, and creating songs. It feels good to be fully immersed in recording new ideas. I know something special is meant to come from my time here under the oaks, and I’m starting to see what these twisted twigs have to say.

I tend to absorb myself in a song. I focus on chords, keys, and musical patterns, becoming hyper-focused until it’s complete. Right now, I’m in Out of the Black mode. Key of A. I usually work on one song at a time until it’s done—there’s just too much involved between drum patterns, vocal lines, choirs, keys, bass lines, and guitar rhythms and solos to tackle multiple songs at once.

When I’m tracking, I keep all my instruments wired and ready to record. I juggle bass and guitar parts, switching between them quickly as I build the arrangements. I’m not attached to predetermined guitar riffs; the mix of all the song’s elements creates the music I ultimately decide on. Being able to track and tweak everything on the fly is important to my process. At times, it makes me feel like a mad scientist, but when things start flowing, I can track quickly. Like the final brushstrokes on a painting, vocal takes are usually the last piece of the puzzle.

Interviews

During my evacuation, some of the Beyond the Breakers reviews and interviews I’d done over the past few months started appearing online, so I decided to consolidate them all on the Diamonds Hadder website.

So far, I’ve done about eight interviews—both online and in magazines—since Breakers was released, with a few still waiting to be published. I’ll try to post them all. I enjoy revisiting the story of Beyond the Breakers myself, and in a way, these interviews have become part of the record.

The first one I’ve added to this new “Interviews” page was done with Francesco Metelli over at www.metal.it. In this interview, we talk about Eastern culture artwork, the meaning behind Beyond the Breakers, influences, the Evermore writing phase, lyrical themes, and musical fashions, among other topics. Thanks to Francesco for the thoughtful questions.

I also added a new photo I took in the tower just before the LA fires, featuring me and some friends. I may alter the graphics a bit as I upload more interviews—we’ll see what I come up with. I’m a creature of print way more than I am of online formats, so I plan on having some visual fun with these interviews, maybe adding some new graphics here and there.

That’s all for now. I’m walking around in the key of A, out of the black once again… grateful for my second chance here under the oaks.

Long is the road, my friends. Be grateful for every day.

Soon, a new video will appear where there wasn’t one before.

For now… it’s Breakers II and the march of the spring frogs.

“Time is a ladder.” Be glorious, my friends.

—J

Devil Winds

A view along the Pacific Coast Highway. The road I drove each morning while tracking choirs for the breakers record. I dreamed a lot on this road..

"The devil sends the naughty winds, To blow the skirts on high; But God is just and sends the dust, To fill the bad man's eye." -1935

Some things are more important than music videos and new records.

It’s January 13th, 2025. I’ve been evacuated from my home under the oaks in Topanga for about a week now. Maybe you’ve heard about the LA fires. For the time being, I’ve seen maps showing my little spot under the oaks safely nestled about half a mile from the fire line on the western flank of the Palisades Fire. However, a new round of Santa Ana winds is forecast from tomorrow through Wednesday. Until then, I’m displaced, driving around in my truck filled with the things I managed to pack before leaving—a privilege so many others didn’t have. It’s an interesting moment, standing in a room surrounded by the things you’ve accumulated over a lifetime, faced with the decision of what to take and what to leave behind. Unfinished projects turn into broken pieces of data. As you leave each room, you say a quick goodbye because you’re not sure if you’ll see any of it again. Trust me, I know.

In some way, I’ve become a custodian of the things I salvaged from the home I lost in the Woolsey Fire. Those items have become precious to me, as though I have an unspoken responsibility to care for them again. But don’t shed a tear for me—so many others have lost far more than I have.

LITR and BREAKERS II: Having said all that, I’ve had a lot of time to think. The holidays slowed progress on the Hadder music video, and now my evacuation has delayed it further. I don’t mind, though. I truly believe that, much like the empty spaces between notes are essential to composing music, so is the space and quiet time between creative endeavors. This time has been nice for me—it gave me a chance to reflect on the work I’ve been doing.

I’m looking forward to returning to my oaks—if the house is still standing after this next wind event—so I can finalize my little LITR video vision. I will say I’m quite pleased with some preliminary video renders I’ve been watching recently. On top of that, I’ve also started tracking the next Breakers record, a promise I made to myself late last year: to finish it in 2025.

I’ve begun the next record with a song called “Out of the Black”, a track written during my time with TOR, a band I was working with while I was living at 200 North. It could easily have appeared on the first Breakers record. Most of the vocals and keyboards are already tracked—about 95 percent. Now, I just need to complete some new music and arrangements under the vocal compositions.

Just before evacuating, I had a few guitar days where I think I unlocked the “guitar code” beneath the vocal lines. Believe it or not, tracking guitars under completed vocal lines can sometimes be easier than writing vocals over guitar parts. The vocal lines create a nice roadmap for composition and chord selection. Each method has its yin and yang. Ultimately, you need to find magic in the relationship between chords, movements, syllables, and spaces—they all need to complement each other in some strange, beautiful way.

I may track five or ten guitar parts before finding the magic pattern that dances with the vocal lines and rhythm section. Right now, I’ve got a mix of just the vocals and tempo with me, and I listen to it often. Sometimes, I hum guitar parts as I listen—it’s like reverse songwriting. It’s as if I’m singing with a guitar. Guitar solos often come to life this way, especially ones that erupt after choruses. I’ll literally sing a solo to determine the note register I’m hearing and feeling, then mimic that register on the guitar.

Last night, while driving, I hummed a dueling guitar solo part for this new song into my voice recorder. The guitar arrangement after the main solo in “Long is the Road” was written exactly this way, as were many guitar parts on the Breakers record.

As far as "Out of the Black" goes, this first song is a powerful, uptempo, Thundersteel-esque track with some old Manowar sprinkles on top. It’s a song about the home I lost to fire and my journey back to the land of the living—a fitting start to the new record, considering recent events.

“Up from ashes

up through the firestorm

Nothing can stop me now.

Forget the past life

I’ve fallen off the edge

Written off such a long time ago.

Kicked down and held back

I’m fighting again

Scratching my way to the top

Take everything I’ve got

I don’t give a damn… no.

One shot in the dark…

Ride up… Out of the black… to destroy your enemies.

Ride up… Out of the black… until you’re all they’ll see.

Out of the Black.”

Regardless of what happens in the coming days, thank you to all the amazing firefighters—both air and ground—who put themselves in harm’s way to try and save my little place under the oaks. God bless you all. Stay safe.

– J