Welcome to the VIP Portal

As a part of our email list or if you have left us a donation, first of all, THANKYOU! And second of all you get access to the VIP portal where we share the backstory of our new songs and the lyrics. We hope you enjoy.

-Jhett & Callie Sioux


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Newest Single 10/3/19

It's the anniversary of Tom Petty's Death...
Two years ago today, we were in Berlin on our first day off from a rigorous tour schedule, when the heavy news scrolled across an LED screen somewhere between the latest diet trend and a puppy meme. Normally, the borage of shallow information that shines out from our hands to illuminate the weak and immediate senses, would never be bright enough to activate the process of creation. But that day was different. Somehow loss and destruction has powerful impact on action and creation. Newton's third law must have something to do with it.

I know we aren't all Tom Petty fans, but we are all fans of someone. Someone that inspired us. Someone that coaxed us through courageous moments, or helped us unwind after a long day of work. Someone who, on a lonely night, sang into the darkness and said, 'me too.'

Now, I never knew the real Mr. Petty of course, but I am convinced he knew me. He was there in the tape deck of my first car (a 1983 AMC Eagle). He was in my headphones when I broke my shoulder snowboarding. He was on the radio right when I needed someone to tell me that a new chapter can be as freeing as it can be painful. Therefore, that day in Berlin struck a nerve, and we musicians tend to hunt for the corresponding chords in that situation. Throughout the course of the day we played covers of Tom Petty songs. That evening I went to the songbook and came across a list of goals I had written in 2011 for music and what I wanted to do with the passion that had been placed in my heart. "I want to write songs for blue-collar Americans and everyday people" it read, "and encourage people that truth and God are in all aspects of life: the good, the bad, and the blues."

So we had a chorus, but no time to finish the song. We wrote down some stories we had shared that certain Petty songs would bring back to mind, and finally finished and recorded the song with Déhá Amsg outside Brussels, Belgium, who produced, mixed, and mastered the tune.

Bought my first car at sixteen years old
I started saving for a stereo
Thought of nothing but hitting the road
Black top, gasoline and cigarette smoke

Brought me to something I thought I could hold
Six months later, you know she let me go
Just getting started with a long way to go
Free Fallin’ blaring on the radio



And its songs that we sing like that
That are placed on our life’s soundtrack
That teach us how to live without looking back
And help us to sing it to
Through the good, bad and the blues


Saturday night alone in my bedroom
I was counted among the fools
Who thought they missed their chance and doomed to lose
That night I met the blues and I put ‘em to use

There is nothing to be found in the arms of false contentment
That’ll ever be profound the words sharing with a friend
There is solace in the sound of a voice who cries in pain and meant it
Helps dissipate the clouds of loneliness in my head
Helps dissipate the clouds of loneliness in my head

Monday morning in a cheap hotel
I heard the news that a legend fell
Man on the TV said we knew him well
No more songs would be sung by the Heartland’s Son


And its songs that we sing like that
That are placed on our life’s soundtrack
That teach us how to live without looking back
And helps us to sing it to
Help us to sing it to
Help us to sing it to
Through the good, bad and the blues


 
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Story behind “Superstition" 06/9/19

By now you have probably had a chance to listen to our latest single, “Superstition”. This song began to manifest in 2017 with the initial bass line and the opening lyrics, “You don’t believe in superstition…” these two pieces of the puzzle hung around the practice space for months, unfinished.

Then, miraculously, in one practice session the song blurted itself out in a raw unfashioned form. We made a crude recording listening on repeat. The rhythmic baseline and delayed guitar tone felt like a melody we could listen to for hours.

We set out to write a tune about the effects of such addiction and how it leaves many lost and alone.The lyrics take a darker turn influenced by the pain we saw around us. The pain continued to surface through a pattern of addiction that runs rampant in many people today. The mysterious labyrinth, the incessant denial and yet the root of morality and truth that is constantly in the back of ones head while their mind takes them somewhere dark and cold.

You don’t believe in superstition 

If you hang around in my position

You wouldn’t stick to your decision very long


Been around I’ve seen some things, 

I know just what it is to lose everything

But we don’t care, we don’t think we don’t believe



And I’m gone...again 

I play along...again 




Been around I’ve seen some things

I know just what it is to have everything

But the apple is ripe, a taste is all you need


Take another trip just to find

Just to find that tiny piece of mind

Something to help something to ease the score


And I’m gone...again

I play along...again


And I know that you’ve been searching for

Searching for the truth

But you will lose your mind trying to find

The labyrinths secret door


Crees que este es tu última 

Última danza 

Pero el fin nunca se encuantra

Buscas para siempre

And you will lose your mind trying to find it


And I’m gone...again

I play along...again

 


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Is Rock Dead? Story Behind the song. 02/18/19

While on tour we typically pick a book or audio book to keep us company on long drives. We had been listening to a fantastic one by 21st century author, Susanna Clarke, her epic novel set in the early 1800’s, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. This book is about English magic and two magicians who were calling it back to England while searching for The Raven King, a mysterious magician who had been whisked away into the fairy realm, missing from England. The story goes that often times mischievous fairies spirit away humans to Fairy and thusly they are lost till summoned back by magicians. How does this apply to writing lyrics for a rock song (don’t ask Led Zepplin that question, fantasy often inspires rock bands)? One late night, on a long drive, we were discussing the state of modern Rock n Roll music. While searching for a channel on the radio that played rock we could only find classic rock, which is of course great, but we began wondering where the spirit of rock n roll had gone? Why were there no newer rock bands being played on the radio? Is there not enough room on radio to allow new music? We of course have found some incredible rock bands through streaming sites (Rival Sons, BMRC, Greta Van Fleet, and Temples to name a few), but none on the radio. In frustration, we shouted, “Rock n Roll is Dead!”

“But it can’t be, there is still great rock music out there.” Jhett retorted. Where is the spirit of Rock n Roll? Was a question still on our lips. Then! It came to us! What if the spirit of Rock n Roll or the King of Rock n Roll had been magically taken away by The Raven King? And was lost in Fairy only being revealed to a few magicians or…musicians? What could we do to bring it back? Summon it. If you take a look at the lyrics you will see the correlation and perhaps enjoy the song even more.

Of course Rock n Roll isn’t dead. That’s not the point of the song. The point is that perhaps its lost. Perhaps its been whisked away and if more of us listen to it, find new rock bands, encourage rock music not just pop maybe it will get back on the radio? We must all do our part, go to see LIVE music, FIND new music and SHARE it or the death of melody and support could indeed be the end of rock music as we know and love it. Like a phoenix it can rise from the ashes.

Rock n Roll will never die!

Lips as red as rose, skin as white as snow

She waits for trues loves kiss from the king of rock n roll

He had been out gigging where the tickets don’t come cheap

So we all dance together in the Necromancers dream

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead


Reanimated shadows play a pentatonic line

Where delta souls decay but we still clap in time

Blues is blue and death is black and somewhere in-between

We All dance together in the Necromancers dream

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Death came long and slow to the Lady we all know she climbs no more stairs and the atchtower stands alone

Ask the wood to speak to stone and the stone to speak to sky to ask the Raven king for what he hides


Ask the wood to speak to stone, stone to speak to sky to ask the raven king for what he hides


Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead

Rock ‘N’ Roll is Dead


 
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The Story Behind the Song

'The Last Ballad of Cynthia Chavez' is an attempt to share one of the most heroic stories I've ever heard. Last Holiday season, I had the honor of teaching some guitar lessons during our break from touring and was blessed in so many ways by my students. One of my students told me what motivated her to learn to play and sing music. She recounted a moment by a hospital bed, listening to the last song that a brave woman sang with her husband, children, and grandchildren. "That's what I want to do," she said.

While family was gathered around the old matriarch, she made the decision to make a pivotal moment in their lives a memory of encouragement and transcendental joy for everyone who was there. Rather than yielding to fear and discontentment with the ending of her chapter in this life, and allowing grief to overtake the room, she requested her husband to bring out their old guitar that they used to sing together for so many years. I can't imagine having the strength to carry out that request, but her husband did. Being a married duo, I know that you often have to put aside your own emotional struggles in order to give something to the audience, but I have yet to be faced with that kind of difficulty that ‘Mr. Chavez’ must have felt. Regardless, they led their family in a gospel song in chorus with their grandchildren and with her final breath, she finished the song, smiled, and left behind a family that must have the most beautiful picture of peace that any person could imagine.

"That's what I want to do too," I replied. I headed for home that afternoon with an melancholy but inspired heart. Driving through the New Mexico countryside with sun beating down on the piñon trees and ranch land, I thought about that story and all the other stories of courage and selflessness that must have taken place around this beautiful but hard and dry countryside. The atmosphere was perfect for a Marty Robbins song.

Generally, my songs start with a riff of some kind and after the first draft is completed, I spend hours rearranging and inserting musical movements, but for “Last Ballad of Cynthia Chavez, I just pulled over, grabbed three chords and wrote down the story in rhyme the best I could remember it and left it that way. Marty Robbins was the king of that style and so we recorded it that simple as well. It’s not exactly what I would call a ‘Gleewood’ song, but we thought it should be heard nonetheless. We hope you enjoy and have a wonderful Christmas.


Cynthia Chavez sang her last ballad tonight

With loved ones all gathered and grandchild sat at her side

She said not to weep and to dry the tears from their eyes

“I’m going home now while the Star of David shines bright”

They cried, “Grandma its Christmas and this is no time for goodbyes”

But her husband was silent as he stared into convicted brown eyes

Half a century discerning the mysteries found in her gaze

That now asked him for silence but thanked him for the life that they made

A young Caballero once told his lover goodbye

With a promise that after the War he’d make her his wife

The young Señorita prayed for his peace every night

And asked God to allow the Caballero to return to her side

Fifty years after many tears and much laughter, dreams lost and dreams realized

It was her turn to leave him with a promise they’d soon reunite

With a voice like an angel she led them in ‘Noche de paz’

She said, “My Lord is waiting and on his birthday day we’ll meet at last.”

Cynthia Chavez sang her last ballad tonight with loved ones all gathered and grandchildren sat at her side.

Christmas in Santa Fe, New Mexico

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The story behind the Song

Living the life of glamorous musicians, Callie and I returned to the RV park we called home on a cold clear day in Southern New Mexico. We began the process of decompression by putting on a pot of soup, unplugging the phone, closing the pleated ‘night-time’ shades in our RV window, and rummaging through the Netflix catalog. After lengthy debate, we both yielded to the twisted grin of Jack Nicholson inviting us into the vintage thriller classic: The Shining.

We had made it just far enough into the film to start jumping at any creaks outside the window when our gas heater turned off. It won’t be stretching your understanding of thermal science to explain that the cardboard walls of an RV aren’t exactly efficient at retaining heat and the snow passing by the window encouraged us to grab a flashlight and check the propane tanks outside. I’m positive Callie reminded me to fill them before we left on tour, but of course, they were empty. After revealing my negligence to Callie, we decided to finish the film, then head into town to grab another tank we had at the rehearsal space.

Our heads spun with ideas of cabin fever and psychopaths while the fresh snow on pavement kept the canvas clear for imagination. Upon arriving at the practice room I was distracted by my guitar which I picked up and started plinking on an ominous melody when one of us whispered, “White snow whispers in the wind.”

That’s usually how they all start. One line and a vibe. I took the guitar and propane back and we spent the remaining of the night kicking around ideas of how to incorporate a thriller story into song. The next morning we ran into a neighbor who started the day’s awkward small talk with “I thought ya’ll were back.” “Yes ma’am,” I said. “Because I saw the ghost on your roof again last night.”

“Huh?” croaked my under caffeinated mind. She went on to explain how she often spots a silvery, white cowboy on the roof of our RV looking off towards the mountain. I would treat an uninvited spirit on the roof of my home with my wife inside with the same warmth as a complete stranger doing the same (which is to stay, none at all), however my interest was peaked.

I went inside and recounted the description of our trespasser to Callie and immediately the story of a cowboy going snow-blind on the way back home to find his wife in the arms of another came to life. We turned the story into a few lines of insane conversation with the winter storm and set it to the melody of the night before. We hope you enjoy the song.

White snow whispers in the wind…

White snow whispers in the wind…

White snow won’t you come on in

Won’t you come on in and bury my sin

Won’t you come on in and bury my sin

No sir I cannot come to you

I cannot bear the things you do

No sir I cannot come to you

Are you done with the company you choose

Are you done with the company you choose

I killed my own brother my wife he did hold

They both are covered in February’s snow

When it snows I can see her ghost

When it snows I can see her ghost

Now I have no lover and my hands are stained

My heart is frozen and so is her grave

But from the storm she’s calling my name

But from the storm she’s calling my name

White is the robe that you want

Come out and numb your pain

Red is the blood it will cost

To hush the voices of your slain

To hush the voices of your slain

To hush the voices of your slain

To hush the voices of your slain

White snow whispers in the wind…

White snow whispers in the wind…

White snow won’t you come on in

Won’t you come on in and bury my sin

Won’t you come on in and bury my sin

My brothers the clouds are by my side

My father is the mountain high

My sisters are the winds that blow

My mother is the ice that grows

Now when it snows you can see my ghost

Now when it snows you can see my ghost

Music & Lyrics by Jhett and Callie Sioux Schiavone

All rights reserved ©


A little hint for the inspiration of “White Snow”

A little hint for the inspiration of “White Snow”