One time a conservation officer rolled up to my campsite, pulled out a measuring tape, and checked the dimensions of my firepit. It was barely big enough to cook food and keep me warm, but she disciplined me for its noncompliance with regulations. Sad, she probably got into conservation because of her genuine love for nature, but now has to answer to urban bureaucrats instead of her own wild spirit. Regulations are needed when a population has no sense of outdoor life, which says a lot about the health of that population. If the wilderness is just a scary place for us to send industry to extract resources, then yes we better establish white-collar committees to invent forest rules, keep an accurate inventory of future lumber, and set a “sustainable” rate for raping the land. But we humans were naturally given incredible intelligence by the wilderness from which we were formed, not by this new temporary society that uses and abuses it. Government conservation is like putting a band-aid on cancer. To kill cancer, each of us needs to forget law and learn wisdom. Self-governed conservation is a skill practised by those who have been taught by experience that resources are finite. And now, you too can be wildlife. We’ve been cutting down trees to print environmental protection legislation… and yet the hills aren’t getting any greener. Rules can’t curb bad luck, but they will imprison our wild spirit. If there needs to be rules for the fools, so be it, but don’t chase me out of town because I don’t need them. How far into the woods do I need to go just to be left alone in peace? How far is fresh air? How far is clean water? Where does freedom hide? Where can purity be found? In the middle of nowhere, is that where I’ll find myself? Lost, will I find silence?
lyrics
I was here and there, just like any night,
When up rolled a shiny automobile,
Causing an awful fright to the forest and me,
Was a man with a badge and a book of rules, the law of fools,
Gave me tickets and fines for the wicked crimes of using my own firewood,
Needs to be store-bought, needs a fire license, needs a firepit built to code,
Without that done, well, I’m sorry son, you’re just going to have to go cold
Joe, you should pack your goods, and head out farther into the woods
He asked me where I got the fish, guess I shouldn’t’ve said the lake,
Three trout on a dish means three times the mistake,
He confiscated my apples and plums, said they were a black market transaction,
Needs to be laboratory-made, plastic-packaged in regulated portions
Joe, you should pack your goods, and head out farther into the woods
He said I was required to buy the vaccine
For the current common cold goin’ ‘round,
And then I got fined for no rubber gloves
When handling the pocket money I found,
My bill came up to a few thousand bucks,
And with that I lit up my cigar,
He snatched it from my teeth, said “that’s bad for the atmosphere,
And drove away in his car
Joe, you should pack your goods, and head out farther into the woods
Joe, you should pack your goods, and head out farther into the woods
Fort Mutiny is a vision. Not a flawless utopia, but a lawless tribe of defiant free-spirits, brewing up a more natural life.
How could such a dream be kindled? Music is a great place to start: uncensored honesty, fueled by personal journals, put to all-acoustic instrumentation. It doesn't matter who wrote it. What matters is that, if you belong at Fort Mutiny, these tunes may help you get there....more
Stirring Americana set to acoustic arrangements and topped by the legendary Alice Gerrard’s lovely, world-wise voice. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 23, 2023
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
