As a child I sat in the backseat with my ears plugged humming music. Worlds were formed and destroyed and born again, all within the confines of my parents little white Honda Accord.
So, I knew from the start what I wanted to do with my life but it wasn’t until later that it occurred to me that my “choice” had set me upon an uncertain path, to say the least : the dream of being any sort of artist whether commercial or not in America is one fraught with perils, the basic one having to do with earning enough money to pay your rent without selling your everlasting soul in the process. These are not trivial concerns when you consider the paths of your many heroes. And I’m not ready to give up wanting to be like my heroes just yet. There’s plenty of time for that.
I was born in San Diego and it was there that my first baby steps in creativity took place.
Before you start thinking I was some sort of child prodigy, allow me to clarify that I’m talking about GI Joes, sneaking on some of my mother’s make-up, and some really atrocious amateur casio keyboard work.
Actually, I haven’t changed much now that I think of it.
I have a distinct memory of peering out from behind my mother’s leg, like a tree stump, at the group of kids playing in their yard. She introduced me and then after she left I stood there for a few strange Alien moments before walking back home.
On another occasion I watched the shadows of a swarm of bees as they landed on my little head, holding still and taking numerous blows because I had been told that if you don’t move a bee wont sting you. In my infantile state I had missed the addendum that if you’ve pissed off an entire nest of the fuckers that rule no longer applies.
After a brief but memorable stint in Irvine, a suburbia community just outside Anaheim, at 10 my family pulled a fast one and moved to a small sleepy town in the Pacific Northwest: Bellingham (also known as Boring-ham or the ˜Ham for short). Strange how in later years I came to notice the many similarities a place like Bellingham would share with spots in the Midwest. This Americana value base set against the vastness of un-condo’d nature (for the time being, anyways), a feeling of suffocating freedom, a darkness lurking behind and inside the landscape, and the ever-present temptation to turn that sleepy boredom into something more sinister. Teenagers in Bellingham had idle hands.
Such a place suits me just fine, as I’m quite used to being alone. I don’t mean that to sound sad, as the idea of being alone has come to also suggest loneliness, which aren’t always one and the same I’ve found. As a home schooled youth I spent a lot of time by myself, and when a child is left to their own devices in the world they learn to be receptive to the inspirations inherent in a blade of grass - a blade of grass can be fascinating when you look at it with eyes filled with wonder. Being alone suits the film composer just fine, who spends most of his time cooped up in a tiny room for hours, through the night, watching the same images repeatedly, hopefully watching with eyes filled with wonder, and if they are receptive to the inspirations, turning that wonder into music.
I know the tone of the classical dress suit and playing each note and the fuck it all rebelliousness of the punk, and as usual fate has had the last laugh on me because I find myself unable to fit into either category or really much anywhere in-between. I find myself living a life continuously on the uncertain outside but I suppose there’s no place I would rather be : I do enjoy it here, where I can be by myself, left to my toys and my worlds and the wonder of not knowing what’s going on, but loving the experience of it all the same.
Or, maybe I should have been a doctor.
This website represents an attempt to compile excerpts and information on all the creative endeavors, films and music and otherwise, that I have played a part in over the years as well as links to the kindred spirits I have had the opportunity to work with. I hope you find something to love or to hate, or at least to hold your attention during the short time that it lasts.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the Honda.
~Devin Anderson Wiley
12.31.08
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I spend a lot of time with these two guys.
