The first bunch of times I heard this song I’d burst out in tears right in the middle of it, at right about these lines:

“Nice and slow.
You’re not that far.
I know you are, and always will be,
Close in a way, you know.”

I hadn’t any idea what the song was about so I didn't know why I was sniffling all of the sudden. The song itself is gentle, reminding me of one of Beck’s “lullabies.” Jon’s vocals convey wisdom, warmth and understanding. But as I sat for a while and listened to the lyrics I realized why I had started crying; why the gentle melody conveyed such wistful underpinnings. It’s a break-up song. It’s the world’s nicest guy (or most charming, anyways) taking all the blame, assuring you he’s leaving you because you deserve better, holding you gently as you cry, and mourning the passing of the relationship with you.

Wow. That’s much better than I am ever able to do. Usually when I have a bad break-up I just up and leave the state on short notice…LOL!

So congratulations on your maturity, Jon, but beware of all the women who will now be chasing you simply to experience the emotional thrills of having you dump them.

Christopher Columbus set sail from Europe in search of a new trade route to India, but instead, his accidental discovery of North America changed the course of history (ok, ok...vikings and all, but still...lol). We remember the deeds of great explorers but what do we really know about their personal journeys? What is it like to set sail for the edge of the world? In this beautiful new song, Jon Peter Lewis tackles the loss of innocence and the painful isolation of those who leave behind the familiar places and people they love to discover brave new worlds.

The gentle rolling rhythm of the song echoes the rocking of his vessel, and we find Columbus at his journal writing to Isabelle, the Spanish Queen, who has made his journey possible. He seems lost and without hope, as if some tragedy has just befallen himself or the crew. His words speak out to her across the distance:

“And if these words find their own way
on the wind to the bed where you lay.
Know there are days that I regret
I ever dreamt this imaginary west.”

But it’s too late for him to go back. Like with many of life’s journeys, once you ship out on that that kind of adventure, your life will never be quite the same again:

“Too far…
I’ve come too far to turn back now.
Hold to your faith honey, I’ll be coming back round
I wish I had found the edge of the world, at least I’d be buried in stars!”

But I find the chorus most intriguing:

“Sometimes I wish I’d never found,
Found out the world was round.”

Only "sometimes" does he wish that he’d never found the world was round. In this passage and in the earlier quote (Know there are days that I regret), we see that his thoughts aren’t always so bleak. There are moments of despair, and moments like this where thoughts of his distant Isabelle consume him. But he will recover, persevere, and see his journey through. Maybe not the journey he had set out to make, but a remarkable discovery none-the-less.

Ever seen "Boxing Helena?" It's a somewhat obscure film featuring the always entertaining Julian Sands. In it a doctor rescues the object of his obsession from a near fatal car crash. He's forced to amputate her legs. But his obsession with her grows as she recovers, and he keeps her captive, eventually also amputating her arms in order to prevent her escape as well as to increase her psychological dependence on him.

This same sort of toxic relationship is played out in reverse in Jon Peter Lewis' "Now That I'm Kneeling." Track 2 from his new CD "Break the Silence."

The first verse begins with the lyrics of a man who loves a woman he feels he's not worthy of:

"Everywhere you walk, there is an empty place to sit.
Ask me how to fall, I invented it."

She inevitably leaves him and he begs her back.

Then comes the foreshadowing of the tragic end to this emotional tug-of-war:

"I'm sitting down, no reason to get up.
Where are you now, now that I'm kneeling?"

In the next verse we learn his obsession is complete. He realizes she treats him badly, but will stay and put up with her abuse simply to be with her and provide her comfort and love. He tries to control his frustration at her refusal to return his love, but eventually comes to realize that she has turned him into an emotional cripple, and he cries the pain of his betrayal to the world:

"Come enjoy the show!
Let everybody see
this useless thing I am.
Baby, look what you've done to me."

This is a song I would love to see in concert. The lyrics here seem to lend to a raw emotional moment, with the artist inviting you into his anguish over the deformed mess his love has left him. The song dissolves the artificial barriers between artist and audience with this plaintive cry to see him as he is, with all his scars.

An addictive collection of pop/rock gems, "Break the Silence" finds Jon Peter Lewis in a reflective mood that permeates the album. Musings on battles won and loves lost, these tracks are well suited to his rich, clear vocals. The title song, "Break the Silence," is a lovely bit of irony, in that Jon is able to sing so eloquently about being at a loss for words. The album is a melody-driven, lyrical experience that allows Lewis to shine as a vocalist and also as a passionate, charismatic performer.

Frequently moody and dreamy, but with an underlying sense of hope for better times ahead, many tracks on the album (ex: "Tonight", "Now that I'm Kneeling," "No Fire," and "Came Here For") explore the complexities of the human heart in all their painful glory. But Jon also offers up moments of reassurance (ex: "Everybody Falls" and "To Make You Feel My Love") with songs that recognize the unique beauty we all possess in spite of, or perhaps as the result of, our emotional scars.

Finally, one tip...the CD may come with one of three bonus tracks or none at all depending on where you purchase it.