Tiny Circulation Desk - Suzie Assam - June 2026

How's everybody doing? I say please make noise. It's very quiet in here. We're getting there. Okay. All right. Well, for those of you who've never seen my lovely face before, I'm Susie. Um, and with me tonight are Nick Santos on bass and Sam Smith on the drums. Um, I am used to playing totally by myself, with just me and my guitar, um, and being in spaces where I'm not exactly the focal point. There's either coffee shop things going on, or it's in a bar, or I'm just there to play two songs for somebody else to get on stage and be in the spotlight. Um, so I'm really jazzed to be here with you tonight and to have the opportunity to share these songs with you in this way for the very first time. Um, and because I do have somewhat of a captive audience this evening, I'll be talking a little bit more and sharing some stories as we go. Um, I have been referring to this particular collection of songs as like my letters home because they do primarily function as letters to and about myself, my family, and the people that I love. Um, so tonight we're going to get into a variety of topics and vibes, um, but I would say that the overarching theme of basically everything that I write is love because what is grief if not love unexpressed or lost or yearned for, you know, our familial relationships are all based around love whether that's absent, present, conditional, or unconditional. Um and our relationships with ourselves hinge so heavily on how we choose to give ourselves love. So, we're going to get into it. Uh we're going to start with a song that's about me and some of the parts of myself that I don't particularly love. Not everything great is something that's good. I miss who I was when I believed that I could. And maybe someday I'll have more than I should from writing songs about Suzanne. Songs about Suzanne. She gets caught up in perfection. She's got a knack for control. Lives at stay cool and collected. And eyes that will roll like thunder. Greet up with a new song. I'm reminded to breathe to let it in. We haven't got along. And I hope that she sees not everything great is something that's good. I miss who I was when I believed that I could. And maybe someday I left more than I should from writing songs about Suzanne. Songs about Suzanne. She's just a name. Seven letters. A lasting promise to break. A second-hand word. Even better. She's best tucked away. To say it is a shell. She's a shadow. An honest mistake. But I can't go on by letting her go. We're one in the same. Not everything great is something that's good. I miss who I was when I believed that I could. And maybe someday I left more than I should from writing songs about Suzanne. Songs about Suzanne. Songs about Suzanne. THANK YOU. IT'S SO OUT HERE NOW. THESE NEXT FEW SONGS focus on family and how complicated those relationships can be. Um the first is inspired by the phrase blood is thicker than water, which is actually a shortened version of the phrase the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, which totally changes the meaning. And for someone who grew up in a blended family, um and who has a lot of chosen family, often the dissonance between those two phrases and the two different meanings can be really loud. Um so this is a song called blood of the covenant. Arms out in the crucifix position, show me the limit of your love. It's this much. It's this much. While I built you a home inside my rib cage, you built a fence round all the things that you can't and you just won't touch. Arms length with a tender disposition, on the shores of the water of the womb, it's 10,000 leagues and a bloodline between me and you. Set my bones with this band-aid for family. Still in pieces and I'm bleeding through. I'm bleeding through. Arms wrapped in the shape of obligation. What do we owe each other now? It's been a long time. And I've paid my dues. Stuck me into the corners and the floorboards. Let me fade with the photographs and scars and I won't make loving me so hard. And I won't make loving me so hard. >> Uh these next two songs are for my father and his wife. Uh may they have the lives they deserve. A masterful design. How it's been riddled over time. Out of sight, just behind the eyes. A deft and callous hand it takes to understand the mechanism of a cataclysmic instance, a calamity without a plan. It's not so complex. Just your boots against my neck. >> A talent so refined to have borrowed in my mind and lay to rest any thoughts that you know there is when you're just looking out for your own kind. It's not so complex. Just your clothes inside my chest. As if I could forget while I'm still paying off the debt. The colossal sum of all the things you've done. I hope this finds you in regret. It's not so complex. I'm just putting it to rest. It's not so complex. I'm just dealing with your best. >> Everybody hanging in there? We good? Okay, cool. I like to check in every now and then. I know it gets a little melancholy. I promise there's some more joyful things coming, but you know, balance in all things. >> All done. >> Oop, sorry. Ready? Tell your friends it was me. Tell some strangers who couldn't care less. Tell family I'm a villain. I'm a bad seed. Wanted three to put roots somewhere far from this rotten tree. It's all right. Got it wrong. Guess you loved me all along. I'll take the blame as long as it suits you. I'm ungrateful. I'm alive. A disgrace of a child who owes you for keeping me alive. I'm selfish. I don't tell the truth. I am the cracks in the walls of this house where we don't say abuse. It's all right. Got it wrong. Guess you loved me all along. I won't say its name out loud if it hurts you. Look at me. I'm doing fine. Couldn't be true or I'd be out of my mind. Can't believe I wasted all these years crying. It's okay. I'm all now. It's fine. Got it figured out. All good. I'm done. Shove me in, close it tight, nail it shut. Bury me like you would. And when I'm deep inside the ground, and you're feeling safe and sound, I hope karma comes around. So, as you can tell, they're lovely people. Um My mother died when I was a few months shy of 6 years old. Um and sorry to trauma dump on you. Uh it's really tough for super obvious reasons, but uh mostly because I don't really remember much of her. Um and I was so young that all of my memories from that time get really blurry. Um but I do have some distinct memories, like her singing me to sleep. And one very distinct memory I have is of her singing me to sleep in the guest bedroom of my great aunt Sarah's house. Um and just like the silhouette of her head kind of backlit by the moonlight seeping in through the lace curtains, which is a really nice thing to hold onto. Um the lullaby that I remember her singing most is 10 green bottles. And if you've never heard it before, it's 10 green bottles hanging on the wall. 10 green bottles hanging on the wall. If one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall. Um and so you just kind of count down until you get to zero hoping that your child is asleep by like four or five. Um but that's the one that really stuck with me. Um so much so that it's the song that I would sing to like self-soothe in the years after she passed. Um so this next song is for my mom, Darlene, and all the green bottles that have fallen in the 29 years since she left us. Oh, Mama, please forgive me. I'm afraid I have sinned. The devil came to visit. And I invited him in. He told me it was high time to be letting you go. And he replaced you with another who was just there for show. Oh, Mama, been crying. Counting bottles on the wall. Patiently waiting for one of them to fall so you can sweep me up with all the broken glass. And you can try, you can try to put me back together. Mama, can't you see I'm sorry for the woman I've been and for letting all of this darkness inside of my skin. Mama, it's been burning me down. This fire in me smoking me out of control. No air left to breathe. So, mama, please, please, please watch me like the bottles on the wall. Just in case you can't catch me when I accidentally fall, well, you can sweep me up with all the broken glass. And you can try, you can try to put me back together. Together. I put ice in this as like a refreshing treat, but now it's very loud. I'm so sorry. Unpaid percussionist right there. All right. Uh This next song is just my super normal and not very concerning at all feelings about grief and existence and the feeling of being sort of left behind. Um I promise I'm okay. I really I really am. Um it's fine. This one's kind of fun though. So, anyway. Let's get into it. I'm always tired, but I hate sleeping cuz when I dream I see them and I wake up crying. I don't want to die. I just hate breathing. Each time I do it reminds me that you're not here. You're not here. Left for the sky. Left me in pieces, scattered my mind. Grounded and bound by your getaway. I know it's wrong. I'm feeling envy. Cursed to my body, maker of my own cage. But it's okay. I'm okay. On my way down, tumbling sideways. The walls of this spiral of paper mache and soaked to the bone. Soaked to the bone. Crazy and cracked, but I'm not a crisis. Took 10,000 steps back and said, "Jesus Christ, this is home." This is home. I don't want to die. I'd just say breathing. It's not about life, it's the being that kills me, my dear. Is that clear? And besides, you're not here. I told you everything's fine. Everything's chill. We're good. Does that sound okay out there? Everybody can hear everything. We're good. All right, cool. See, these guys are here to cover up all my mistakes. It's a blend right in. Um these next few songs are a bit of a mixed bag, but like what isn't? Um we're going to start with a song inspired by something said to me in a breakup speech. Uh we're going to move to a song about burnout, and we're going to finish with a sappy little love song. So, strap in. How can it be? How can you make me believe I'm a good thing? And how can it be? How can I remember to breathe? Is this a good thing? >> I said goodbye. I promised myself that I'd try to let go of a good thing. You sat there and cried. And I had to ask myself, why am I such a good thing? So, how can it be? How can I let you just leave and walk away from me if this is a good thing? I know somehow even if it brings me down it's all for a good thing. And you're such a good thing. I can tell you I did not feel like a good thing uh when that happened. It was actually probably one of my worst nights ever. And this person doesn't know this. I don't think she's ever even heard the song, but uh I think an hour or two before she came over to hang out, um I had called my friend Kevin and was like, "I'm I'm not okay." That time I was not okay. Um it was just a really, really bad time, and then that happened not long after that, and I was like, "Well, uh cool. So." Anyway. We write songs. That's how we get through it, right? What do you do when the blessings turn to burnout? The days slip through your fingers till there's nothing left to clutch besides your chest. And you're racing desperately to nowhere. The finish line keeps moving, and you never catch your breath. Where am I on this road that leads to happiness? Cuz the GPS keeps telling me there's just 5 minutes left and I've come so far." According to my friends and my therapist, this journey's everlasting and I'm dying dying for some rest. Under the sand below existence, I've been crushed apart. Scoop me up, hurl me to the wind, let me be numb. I'm so tired of resilience. Leave me broken, solitary, safe inside the walls of my own empty cup. If living in the present means each day's a gift and every moment's a receipt to remind us that we've lived, there's been romance, laughter, and dancing, and second chances. There's been truth and lies and certainty, sadness, death, and taxes. Under the sand below existence, I've been crushed apart. Scoop me up, observe me to the wind, let me be numb. I'm so tired of resilience. Leave me broken, solitary, safe inside the walls of my own empty cup. So, if tomorrow I choose stillness over work and bills and business, if I should choose to become nothing over everything at once, there's some things that you should know. I've had joy. I've known beauty and forgiveness, been given love so deep and selfless. It's more than I deserve. It's too much. But it's the thing that keeps me going. It's the thing that keeps me knowing so much more than pouring empty cups. And as promised, our slightly little love song. Not that last one, obviously. Yikes. Can you imagine? Hold on. Oh, hey, caught me by surprise. A flash the corner of my eyes. Call it fate or coincidence, that's fine. Who knew joy would come to me in disguise. Say say say love me. Say amour. Met on the moon toujours. Wrapped in the music of your charms. Cold in the comfort of your arms. Call me hasty. Call me foolish. That's fine. Just call me later. Call me, baby. And I'll call you mine. Say ça. Say l' vie. Say l' mort. Maintenant demain toujours. Say ça. Say l' vie. Say l' mort. Maintenant demain toujours. Checking in again. Everybody still good? Okay. Just making sure. Feel free to cry, fall asleep, leave. I don't know. Do what you want to do. Live your life. Let the the feelings run through you however they need to. All right. Um having lost my mother at such a young age, grief has been a rather large part of my life for a very long time. Um so these next two songs are kind of about my somewhat reluctant coexistence with grief and the boys are going to start this one off for me. Whispers on my skin. A song begging to be let. I can't shake it off. Sickly sticking out. Sliver between my bones. I can't take it out. Splinter in my side. Will not be denied. Showing all my teeth. Crying underneath. I can't fake you out. Not going to this is real. Bleeding just to heal. Build while breaking down. Splinter in my side. Will not be denied. >> Thank you. >> All right, here comes the jug of doom. It's just so loud. Normally I do like have this at like wedding gigs or like bar gigs. I said you can't hear anything, but it's just It's a monster in this room. >> There's something strange about December. A subtle morning carried by the breeze. It's getting harder to remember that you and the season didn't bring me to my knees. It's not enough to say I've tried. I fought it off, but the emptiness keeps growing. It drains the light straight from my eyes. It crawls into my veins, and you might never know that I'm buried alive inside these old winter blues. I'm trying to get out out of this room. But, not too soon. >> There's something odd about the springtime. Something cold about the month of May. I swore it off for years, but the grief it keeps on coming. And it's no use to try and push it all away. And I'll admit that I have a light. I've never been okay, but thanks again for asking. It's no mistake I have her eyes. We share a sadness that keeps me from ever masking that I'm buried alive beneath the lily blooms. That I need to get out out of this room. But not too soon. Thank you. I have a little bit of a story if you want to hear about me being adorable. Uh I mentioned earlier that I'm part of a blended family. Um I actually only have one sibling with whom I share two parents and that's my big brother John. Um a few things to note. There is an 8-year age gap between us. Um and when I was a baby, our mother taught me to call him Bubba. And as a true child of the '80s and '90s, he has lovingly called me Chump pretty much my whole life. Um it's a term of endearment. It sounds like it's not, but it really is. Um it's very sweet at 34 years old when your big brother still calls you Chump. Um so when John or Bubba was about 12-ish years old, uh he painstakingly convinced our Neil Diamond-loving mother, who is like the least grunge-adjacent person you would ever meet in your life, um to get him Nirvana's album Nevermind on cassette. Yes, cassette. Uh and we'd listen to it in the car, um but my mom was pretty tuned out cuz she had like a billion other things on her mind. And so one day we're driving along and the song On a Plain comes up. And if you don't know that one, it's the one that goes I love myself better than you. I know it's wrong, so what should I do? And so this day, for some unknown reason, being the delightful little goody-two-shoes that I am, I pipe up from the backseat, "Mommy! Mommy!" And so she turns the music down and she says, "Yes, Suzanne." And I said, "Mommy, that man said that he loves himself better than me and that's not right cuz we should love other people." And she turned to my brother and she was like, "Jonathan, Suzanne's right. We really shouldn't be listening to this." Um so I've essentially been doing penance and trying to earn back my cool points ever since. Uh so this is a song for Bubba called Chump. >> For you to see is all I ever wanted. Just to be cool and haunted. I'm posing hard and you're keeping quiet. And I'm selling out and you just don't buy it. Looking down a million miles to your love. I know I'm just a chump. Flesh and blood. And the love our father never gave us. I'm so proud of all the ways it doesn't break you. Looking up a million miles to your love. I know I'm just a chump. Just a chump to you, bubs. Sorry. I love your enthusiasm, though. For you to see is all I ever wanted from you. But I'm in the backseat poking holes in Nirvana. Now it's done for real this time, I promise. THANK YOU. ALL RIGHT. I KNOW, I DO A LOT OF REALLY DRAMATIC pauses and I should really not fuss with my iPad while I'm doing that. Uh all right. This next song is also for my big brother. Um it's one I've never performed before um and he's never heard it, but I think it's important because it basically helped me frame this whole show. Um My brother carries a lot more than he should ever have to and it's a load he doesn't often share. He bears it with strength and a sense of honor and duty primarily in silence because he's a man, because he's a father and because he's the big brother. Um so this song exists as a reminder to him and to anyone else who needs it that it's okay to give up some of that weight and to allow yourself and the littlest, most precious versions of you some grace and some love and some tenderness. So this is a letter. Don't you think that it's time to let go of it? Don't you want to walk away? Just a little bit. Aren't you sick of it? There's a strength in being soft and exposing the tender belly of your soul. You deserve a gentle touch, loving care, a voice dripping with nectar to tell you that everything you are, have been, and will be is enough. Let me bring you water to wash off the day. Let it slip from the rose petals of your skin. Let it wrap you in gratitude and sing you to sleep with I love yous until you learn to love yourself. Enough to be soft, to ask for help, to heal. Don't you think that it's time to let go of it? Don't you want to walk away? Just a little bit. Aren't you sick of it? I can't fix it, patch it up, make any sense of things. But I hope you hear me when I say you deserve more than this. I love you, Jonathan. Love your little sis. One more time, we're going to jingle. Thank you. All right. Well, since we started with a song and about me and parts of myself that I struggle with loving, I it's only fitting that we have a little full circle moment. Um I've been sticking this song toward the end of my sets for years and there is no sense in breaking that tradition this evening. I precarious stacks of china on the corner of the table in your mother's same old sitting room precarious a chatterbox of teeth and tongues and normal happy thoughts. A flower scraped from off the wallpaper and swept like debris. Like the dust that fills the air between you and me. You and me. I am terrified of crippling loneliness and also being told a lie by the people I love most and I've been told to try forgiveness therapy and meditation. Give it time, you'll see. Sit up, shut down, look forward, don't forget to breathe. Forget to breathe. A stranger in my own bones. Smoking mirrors, shadow figure, proxy soul. A stranger in my own bones. Smile louder, keep it quiet, fit the mold. I am preoccupied with being good enough and like a bull in love and I can't bear to take up space in rooms I cannot justify. The anger boiling up beneath my golden skin. My broken skin. This cracking flesh, this bleeding heart are giving in. Giving in. A stranger in my own bones. Keeping peace and giving comfort and letting go. A stranger in my own bones. Temporizing, spinning flames around my throat. I won't surrounded by oceans of white noise drowning in a sea of chamomile. Mouth full of bees and fire swallowing my pride and I have nothing left to give to anyone for free. A stranger in my own bones. Smile louder, keep it quiet, fit the mold. Temporizing, spinning flames around my throat. Can I just tell you it has been a years that I wanted to hear that song with that little drum fill in the middle and have it come back and be like this big uh it's so cheesy. I love it. So, thank you for giving me the space to be able to do that. This has been a really lovely time. I know it's warm in here. I know it's cozy. I'm ready to fall asleep. Um but I really appreciate you all being here um and I'm hoping that you will indulge me in joining in one last moment of connection before we all go our separate ways. If you are able and willing, I'd love it if you'd sing this last song with me, with us. Although, I don't know if they're singing. You should. But, anyway, the refrain, which you'll catch on to pretty quickly, is just the words "nothing to lose but our chains." And you may know that this phrase originated with Karl Marx saying, "Workers unite, you have nothing to lose but your chains." But, it's also commonly credited to the late Assata Shakur when she said, "It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win. We must love each other and support each other. We have nothing to lose but our chains." So, in the spirit of community in this cozy little space that we have here, and as a love letter to all of you, I invite you to sing along if you feel moved either by the spirit or peer pressure to do so. >> Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. We've been fighting for so long. We've so far left to go. Still, we soldier on cuz deep down we know there's nothing to Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. In the face of all these mountains, I used to feel so small. But with the help of my sisters, we can conquer it all. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. Nothing to lose. But our chains. We got nothing. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. >> Keep going. >> Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. >> Keep going. >> Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose but our chains. >> One more time. >> Nothing to lose. Nothing to lose. but our chains. Thank you. Selfishly, that's more for me than it is for you, but it always just fills my heart up. Um, thank you all again so much for being here. Um, and thank you to Mechanics Hall for having me, um, to Portland Media Center for filming, and a huge, huge thank you to Nick and Sam for being so open and supportive and talented and for agreeing to back me up tonight. Can we just get a special round of applause just for them? THANK YOU. UM, IF YOU DIDN'T CATCH IT, WHEREVER it's plastered, uh, my name is Suzie Assam. Um, the best place to find me is on Instagram or out in the wild, though I will be honest, I do not leave my house much. Um, my Instagram handle is just @suzieassam, s u z i e a s s a m as in marvelous, all one word. Um, yeah, be safe, make good and uh, everything else is going to fall into place. Have a good night.