Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
Purchasable with gift card
name your price
about
Notes:
Not only is this the 26th song from Mount Everest (marking half a year of new music every Monday!), but on Friday I celebrated my 26th birthday. Twenty-six seems to be chasing me this week like a cosmic anomaly that I cannot explain. So this week I am here to reflect on this number in all of its complexity and mundanity; its significance and insignificance.
One by one my peers turn twenty-six years old, and one by one they say the same thing: this one just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter?! Shouldn’t all of them matter? But what does it mean to be twenty-six? We assign an artificial meaning to many ages. I’m 18! Now I can vote and smoke! I’m 20! That’s 10×2! I’m 21! Let’s drink! I’m 25! Holy smokes, I’m a quarter of the way to 100, plus now they’ll let me rent a car! I’m 26… I can… reflect introspectively… on stuff… which is of course exactly what I have done. This song includes my musings on aging. It is about the inescapable reality of time. It is about holding on to being young. It is about answering to the expectations of our childhood selves.
This weekend I brought this song to Nick Mastors, and like he always does, he rocked the house all over it. He concocted beats and synthesized like there was no tomorrow. It was awesome.
To celebrate SIX MONTHS! of new music every Monday I have decided to offer the entire Mount Everest catalog for download for a limited time! All together it makes up a sprawling 26 song super-album that I have titled Thought Christmas. Please enjoy!
Download Mount Everest: Thought Christmas (113.5 MB)
Thank you so much to everyone who has listened, spread the word, commented, and criticized over the past six months. I hope that you will be back next week.
Here’s hoping your Monday doesn’t totally suck.
~Jesse
---
Thank you!
May 16, 2011May 16, 2011 by Jesse Mitchell Lindsey
On the occasion of six months of new music every week I would lake to say a few thank-yous, because I have had a lot of help on this project over the past half of a year. Thank you to Nick Mastors who co-wrote and performed numerous songs with me, and without whom this website would certainly not exist. Thank you to Miguel Williams who lent me his talents when I needed help writing two songs in rush, and for making it so much fun. Thanks to Alex Selby and John Goodridge for providing me with unparalleled levels of feedback. Thank you to Jake Aron for all of the recording advice. Thank you to James Atwood, and Brian Kipruto for driving an absurd amount of traffic to this website (amongst many others who are too numerous to list!). Thank you to everyone who has listened, commented, and spread the word. Thanks to Steve Skop for teaching me everything I know about music. Thank you to everyone that I forgot to thank (I am sorry!). Most importantly, thanks to my parents for more reasons than I could possibly say!
lyrics
Here I go
Here I’ll live, here I’ll die, here I’ll grow
And what’s left for us God only knows
Fall asleep in my clothes
And dream all night about dreams
I am new, I am fresh on my feet
And my country is vast and complete
Human beings, hearts that beat
They break and mend in us
Now awake and alert to the sound
And aware of the forces we’re bound to
Like we’re drawn to the ground
Oh time is so irresistible
Little children there’s a terrible lie
Goes that the bigger you get
The less you’re worth if you cry
And it kills me when we tell you about life
And sure its some kind of hard
But you can fill it with light
These amends
Always speaking in tones, future tense
To be coursing and straining against them
Oh the self, recompense
There’s no one left but you
And the specter of aging is there
And it follows us each unaware
Twenty-six, do you dare?
Do you have the heart for this?
Little children there’s a terrible lie
Goes that the bigger you get
The less you’re worth if you cry
And it kills me when we tell you about life
And sure it’s some kind of hard
But you can fill it with light
Little children there’s a beautiful lie
Goes that the older you get
The more you’ll know about life
And it gets you more the harder you try
And sure it’s some kind of hard
But you can fill it with light
credits
released May 16, 2011
Jesse Mitchell Lindsey and Nick Mastors
Thin Lear's sophisticated rock music is tempered with soaring chamber pop accents and an undeniable gift for melody. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 30, 2020
Beautiful and mysterious folk-adjacent songs from this UK outfit that wreathe delicate acoustic guitar in mist-like synths. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 10, 2021
The fantastic indie folk songs on the latest from Gold Dust are slathered in gallons of echo, making them feel titanic and 200 feet tall. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 6, 2022
Released in 2001, “The Convincer” is a gentle gem in the Nick Lowe catalog; an anniversary edition provides opportunity for rediscovery. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 20, 2021
The Ohio songwriter navigates gender, queerness, class, and privilege through a powerful mix of country rock, folk ballads, and bluegrass. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 14, 2021
Rich and rococo indie pop songs define this LP from Franklin Gothic, a light psychedelic sheen washing over all of it. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 20, 2022