Soft-Pedal is 32 poems about nature, speculation and frustration.

The packaging was designed by rucchi. It has a 3 color hand screen printed cover with a die cut hole. You get 3 one color screen printed inserts so you can choose which one you want to show through the hole.

This is a signed and numbered edition of 100.

An inviting blend of lush, fuzzy guitars, modest acoustics, and ambivalently whispered words. My First Days on Junk's second set of elegantly simple songs patiently unravels a sonic forlorn which frequently draws on gray area book ended by apathy to the left and melancholy to the right. Persistently inventive in its treatment of this hazy affective terrain, the indicatively titled No Order presents a sound scape which, in continually evolving its shape, size, and texture, challenges the conception of digital recording which makes claims for its accuracy, objectivity, and transparency. The elastic dimensions of No Order's virtual sound laboratory grows and shrinks from track to track and at times from moment to moment - one of the many unexpected events which lend a particularity to each of the record's 13 stripped down song structures. Bells, tambourines, and drum machines are frequently heard on top or in place of the usual trap-set; and at times, even a feathery strumming of the acoustic guitar supplants the warm drones of the electric - as though the vintage amps which blare in the foreground were beginning to resemble, in their prevalence, something too much like an order.

Erasing Clouds: "[No Order's] atmosphere . . . gives [its songs] immediacy; it emphasizes the wild, fleeting side of life."
Seven Days: "Williams confident ensemble builds on an already stout foundation and may still make junkies of us all."
Press Play Record: "...one of the best records of 2008 has been released!"

A pretty collection of understated songs bittersweetly allude to a happy-go-lucky sensation, which, as the quality of the record's vocal delivery suggests, have always been fictional and unattainable. If only we could be certain she were real: this frequently seems to be the presiding musical implication of MFDOJ's first full-length. The lilting, breathy onomatopoeia which fills out most of Darla frequently lags behind the pulse of the drums and guitars syllabically hiccuping its way through time. This rhythmic catching prevents the melody from occupying the the down-beats. Down-beats, which MFDOJ's persistently minimalist rhythm section effectively (and at times hypnotically) hold in place, form the basic units of the music's formal structure. The fantastic meandering of Darla's off-kilter, unclear vocal styling and its frequent elusion of the structural (and ontological) brought about by the down-beat, make a beautiful case for that which, like Darla, cannot be verified as real or true. Over the course of the record, the pleasures of Darla's fakeness subsume what initially seems to be longing for her reality.

Recorded late one night when a ghost emerged from the rafters of a creaky, third-story studio. They crawled into the gear and tape started rolling. Box Ghost is My First Days on Junk most committed attempt to bring the sonic byproducts of amplified music (amp buzz and guitar feedback) to the front of the mix. Each of the record's three pieces works with its own particular set of sounds, attempting to expose the harmonic and rhythmic properties of sonic artifacts. By means of its repetitive, patiently evolving 5-10 minute long processes, Box Ghost sophisticates the ears, alerting them to the subtle minutiae of the guitar amplifier which the speedy changes of traditional song structures tend to obscure.

A companion to Anti-Kirchenlied as almost a complete opposite. Anti-Kichenlied focuses on nature while Sound Of The City sticks to the streets. Often written while walking home after rock shows.

They are hand screen printed by tick tick in a limited edition of 100.

At 23 poems, Anti-Kirchenlied reflects the style of his last full-length collection ‘fight for your frequency’ with more detail and precision. Roughly translated, Anti-kirchenlied means “against music” ( kirchelied actually means 'hymns' ). In this collection the poet struggles with the love and frustration that comes when music is your muse, driving long distances is the norm, and the art of the simple relationship is more complex than we are often led to believe.

The collection travels through Vermont’s rivers, mountainsides, sheds, country houses and backyards while taking detours through confused bedrooms, late nights in the dark and daydreams of musical perfection. Williams’ playful approach to language blends casual observation, imagination, and field-reporting into dense chunks of wistful whimsy – a window into the poet’s impressions of what is, what couldshouldbe(but isn’t) and what will most likely happen, given the way things usually work out.

Anti-kirchenlied will leave you appreciating the people who yell outside your house and steal records out of your car while reminding you how much you can get out of waking up before sunrise to take a long drive on the interstate for work. It’s a collection that provokes laughter and resignation, makes you think a little bit more about the kinds of things you think, and in the end encourages you to trade in all of your experiences for comfort and trust.

"26-year-old introverted shoegazer with no self esteem seeks the best girl in the world. Must have own headphones."

"fight for your frequency" is more than just a volume of poetry. It's a cautious love letter, shy and introspective. And even though the topics of reflection are often written about (love, self-doubt, getting the girl) Steven Williams attacks these subjects in his own thoughtfully unpretentious way. From a cross-country trip with a girl with wind blown hair to springtime Sunday evenings, you'll feel like you're in the middle of a pretty song that you never want to end.