Phosphorescent was one of those mysterious bands that I fell into. You know the kind — the kind you stumble upon in a bar or a club, with no familiarity, no recognition and they completely blindside you, leave you with a dry mouth and heart palpitations. It’s mostly the chief of Phosphorescent – Matthew Houck – who precipitates this stricken feeling. That first time, when we officially made acquaintances, was in the days when I faked being a member of a band, gigging and relishing the discounted price of beer. It was a summer night, when Iowa City was more or less a ghost town – empty of students who cared at all about attending rock shows after dark. It was a two-band bill and we had a few friends patronize the establishment out of duty and curiosity. When we unplugged, they were gone, scattered back to where they felt more comfortable, leaving Phosphorescent to play for roughly four people, the bartender and sound guy who, now that I think of it, wasn’t there either. Houck and group were touring behind A Hundred Times Or More and they looked hungry. They looked really hungry and it was obvious that it wouldn’t be a good paying night here. The condition was going to last. I bought a T-shirt with a cow on it. I thought it would help. Leaving town that night, we stopped at a convenience store for munchables and the clerk behind the counter had the Phosphorescent album playing. We told him that the band had just played a few blocks down and he was shocked. He said he would have gone. Let this set – mostly of unreleased material – serve as the sort of introduction to Phosphorescent that will make you adamantly attend their show whenever they’re near. Don’t be that convenience store clerk. This session was recorded on December 14 th and it will be forever remembered as the first session we recorded after my daughter was born. It was the day we came home from the hospital. I dropped my wife and Dylan off at home, then drove around looking for bubble gum “It’s A Girl” cigars. I gave one to Houck and he delivered a stirring set of sparkly blues. Ray Raposa followed with his own three songs. What a day. – Sean Moeller

First song
Worried Blues (Phosphorescent) [3.68MB] [4508 downloads]
— unreleased
In November, Phosphorescent was on a solo tour in Europe. For that entire month it felt necessary to play this song first, every night. It always felt good, never got old. When we came to Daytrotter in December we were traveling as a four-piece (Scott Stapleton on piano, Ray Raposa on bass, Yoni Kifle on drums and me on guitar) and this recording catches the first and only time we ever played it.


Second song
Cocaine Lights (Phosphorescent) [4.19MB] [5425 downloads]
— unreleased
This song is on the new record. It was written before last spring. We were not yet out of winter. I remember the morning when I started to write it with startling clarity. I don’t remember finishing it. A review in the Boston newspaper called it the best song Kris Kristofferson never wrote. I’ll take that.


Third song
A Death, A Proclamation (Phosphorescent) [2.73MB] [4249 downloads]
— unreleased
This is also from the new record. Sometime maybe a year ago I drove past a parking lot where there was a marching band drum corps practicing. I had a cassette tape recorder with me and so I stopped and recorded a little bit of their practice. I dumped part of that tape over to the recording machine and recorded this song along to their drumming. They sound so good. The tape is hissy and wobbly but still thunders.

Fourth song
Little Parts One & Two (Phosphorescent) [3.30MB] [4011 downloads]
– original version appears on A Hundred Times Or More
Like “Worried Blues,” this is the first and only time we ever played this song. As I recall, we were feeling kind of restless and a little road weary that afternoon and it felt good to just play. To take it gently, with a few beers to guide us and not worry too much about whether we knew the songs.