Most of the time I feel like I'm fighting with lyrics. Every line, every turn of a phrase is a battle between me and the sentiment I am trying to portray. Every rhyme is a sacrifice between poignance and necessity. Every verse is a ... Well, I'm sure you get the picture.
Running Barefoot is at the opposite end of that spectrum.
I can still remember sitting at the VAXA terminals in the computer lab between Oberlin's program houses - either the cute Apple Macintosh SE's or the dumb terminals we could access. It was there that this image of someone running barefoot through clouds popped into my head.
It was an interesting image: at first soft and serene. Yet it held a certain sort of coldness and aloofness, distance and melancholy.
I think I wrote all the lyrics there before I left for the night. My muse knocked and, for at least once in my life, I figured out how to let it flow.
Barefoot has always been an interesting song for me. The image of someone so beautiful that she can get anything she wants - fame, fortune, riches, admiration. And yet she's struggling to understand what it is she wants. She's afraid - afraid of ... something. And that fear traps her inside this cocoon of a world where it's simpler to take those things that come so easily...
And from a narrative point of view, it's sung from the point of view someone who sees through her. It unfolds with a sort of resigned compassion - knowing what is going on and, by that token, the narrator will probably never be let inside close enough to help.
The music followed suit - came together pretty quickly. I don't remember if it unfolded *quite* so easily. But in quite a short bit of time another tune was born.
The perhaps ironic point to the song is that it took us maybe one or two takes to nail the full-band sections of the song (and one SWEET-ASS solo from Jon!). Yet it took Jon and I about a gazillion tries to get that intro and outro down. Somewhere there's a gag/outtake compilation of some of the better moments.
I need to see if I can find that... LOL
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Thursday, December 15, 2011
[ BtS ] Stolen (1.375)
It wasn't till my fourth year (out of six) at Oberlin that I finally started to put my own concept album project - Project::in•fin•i•ty - together.
I forget exactly how we came together. I'd already known Christopher (keyboards/production) a little and he was my RC. Charles (drums) lived at the end of the hallway and somehow he knew Jonathan (guitars). Something something something [cue flashback video montage] and I recruited them for my winter term project.
One of the songs from this unholy union was "Stolen (1.375)" - a quirky and fun tune in a lilting 11/8 (3 + 3 + 3 + 2) and 8/8 (3 + 3 + 2)[*]. The two riffs were something Jonathan had already developed and, as soon as he played the 11/8 one, I knew it was something I wanted to pursue.
By now I'd had three years of Oberlin under my belt and I was quite content with myself for being queer. There were still lingering issues, though.
First off: being queer is one thing. Being openly so - quite a different ball game. I was desperately trying to reconcile my progressive, activist leaning and the desire for a "normal" life. Could I find and live your Hollywoodified, picturesque house/picket-fence/kids fantasy(*cough*lie*cough*) when my mere existence was still illegal in some states?
Did I want to?
The second part? My own horrible attempts at meeting guys and dating.
I've always been on the shy and timid side. My taste always leaned towards the emotionally unavailable and usually straight guys. Approaching a guy... was something to be avoided at all costs - even the cost of my happiness.
Yes, it was many a cold and miserable night at Oberlin. [cue: lonely, sniveling shot in bed]
Ultimately the project never quite went where I conceived it. But the process and result were both still fun and worthwhile regardless. As tattered hat we recorded a total of six or seven songs - all of which I'm rather proud of. Though we only performed once as a duo on my senior recital.
I forget exactly how we came together. I'd already known Christopher (keyboards/production) a little and he was my RC. Charles (drums) lived at the end of the hallway and somehow he knew Jonathan (guitars). Something something something [cue flashback video montage] and I recruited them for my winter term project.
One of the songs from this unholy union was "Stolen (1.375)" - a quirky and fun tune in a lilting 11/8 (3 + 3 + 3 + 2) and 8/8 (3 + 3 + 2)[*]. The two riffs were something Jonathan had already developed and, as soon as he played the 11/8 one, I knew it was something I wanted to pursue.
By now I'd had three years of Oberlin under my belt and I was quite content with myself for being queer. There were still lingering issues, though.
First off: being queer is one thing. Being openly so - quite a different ball game. I was desperately trying to reconcile my progressive, activist leaning and the desire for a "normal" life. Could I find and live your Hollywoodified, picturesque house/picket-fence/kids fantasy(*cough*lie*cough*) when my mere existence was still illegal in some states?
Did I want to?
The second part? My own horrible attempts at meeting guys and dating.
I've always been on the shy and timid side. My taste always leaned towards the emotionally unavailable and usually straight guys. Approaching a guy... was something to be avoided at all costs - even the cost of my happiness.
Yes, it was many a cold and miserable night at Oberlin. [cue: lonely, sniveling shot in bed]
Ultimately the project never quite went where I conceived it. But the process and result were both still fun and worthwhile regardless. As tattered hat we recorded a total of six or seven songs - all of which I'm rather proud of. Though we only performed once as a duo on my senior recital.
- We wound up recording this song twice in our year and a half together. The second time around, in the process of recording, we realized the verses were 11 bars of 11/8, a twelfth bar of 12/8 and the chorus was 8 bars of 8/8. FREAKY!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
[ BtS ] "If You Want Me To (I would run to you)"
My first year at Oberlin brought me a new experience: the opportunity to date _guys_ - the gender I am attracted to.
I wasn't completely in the closet in high school but neither was I exactly out. There were a couple guys - straight, of course - whom I'd developed strong feelings for but none of it was requited in the least. There were no other queer folk present or visible. The internet for the most part was still a few years away.
It was a bit of a lonely existence. But loneliness is a part of me.
Well here I was at a very liberal college[1] and dating was now more than possible[2]. All of a sudden feelings, urges, and complexities I hadn't ever had to deal with became very much a real roadblock to my personal life. Sex, intimacy, flirtation, pain, rejection... in a blink they all switched from something theoretical and abstract to a highly tangible and terrifying reality.
Most of my dating life at Oberlin can be summed up as: dismal. Only one song have I ever written pertaining to love during that time and that song wasn't till years later. But more on that later.
David was the first guy I *ever* dated. And... being me, it was both short and emotionally intense. For me.
He was kinda shy, awkward, and dorky - studying bio-chem if I recall properly. We were both outsiders of our own. Totally drew me in.
I think we dated for all of a week - around fall break. I certainly remember him coming back from it and calling it off. Just seven days or so. We never even had sex! (I don't remember if we even kissed...)
But of course in the intensity of my hot house-esque brain something went... further. I remember one "vision" or daydream I had - this image of us reuniting at some point in the future, he'd contracted HIV, and I was devastated.
The emotional response I had to that was pretty intense. The following break-up was also kind of intense. It was also my first, after all.
It wasn't a huge fight or some silly drama. No, that's not the way I tend to function. My feelings for him were fairly genuine. Instead of anything else, what would unfold to be my manner of coping, I turned inward. I withdrew a bit trying to figure out how to handle this new and rather unpleasant predicament with my emotions - how do I process and manage this new searing sadness?
Well by writing a song, of course!
I actually remember quite a bit from the time. I remember listening to The Magnetic Fields' "Charm of the Highway Strip" on repeat ad nauseum[3]. I remember the bitingly cold winter air turning to snow - another first. I remember a brief rebound-esque fling with another David...
But the song follows the hypothetical narrative of a purely mental sequence that never left my brain. It haunted me for some time. At some point I made the mistake of telling David about it. He assured me he wouldn't be catching HIV.
We tried to stay friends but not too long thereafter we lost touch. I don't remember much of him my sophomore year if at all. He graduated a year early and I two late. I suppose there would be some irony if we were to reunite and any of this were to transpire.
As a note, along with Diamond Rise and Half Moon Bay, this demo wasn't recorded for many years. It wasn't until eleven years later in 2006 or so - when I was in a VERY different point in my life - did this song ever get past my own ears.
For the young ones today in a seemingly more progressive and queer-friendly field, perhaps it isn't a big deal. But for me - someone who grew up in this conservative and strange "normal" reality of the 80's and 90's in a backwater town of California... It was a second adolescence.
I wasn't completely in the closet in high school but neither was I exactly out. There were a couple guys - straight, of course - whom I'd developed strong feelings for but none of it was requited in the least. There were no other queer folk present or visible. The internet for the most part was still a few years away.
It was a bit of a lonely existence. But loneliness is a part of me.
Well here I was at a very liberal college[1] and dating was now more than possible[2]. All of a sudden feelings, urges, and complexities I hadn't ever had to deal with became very much a real roadblock to my personal life. Sex, intimacy, flirtation, pain, rejection... in a blink they all switched from something theoretical and abstract to a highly tangible and terrifying reality.
Most of my dating life at Oberlin can be summed up as: dismal. Only one song have I ever written pertaining to love during that time and that song wasn't till years later. But more on that later.
David was the first guy I *ever* dated. And... being me, it was both short and emotionally intense. For me.
He was kinda shy, awkward, and dorky - studying bio-chem if I recall properly. We were both outsiders of our own. Totally drew me in.
I think we dated for all of a week - around fall break. I certainly remember him coming back from it and calling it off. Just seven days or so. We never even had sex! (I don't remember if we even kissed...)
But of course in the intensity of my hot house-esque brain something went... further. I remember one "vision" or daydream I had - this image of us reuniting at some point in the future, he'd contracted HIV, and I was devastated.
The emotional response I had to that was pretty intense. The following break-up was also kind of intense. It was also my first, after all.
It wasn't a huge fight or some silly drama. No, that's not the way I tend to function. My feelings for him were fairly genuine. Instead of anything else, what would unfold to be my manner of coping, I turned inward. I withdrew a bit trying to figure out how to handle this new and rather unpleasant predicament with my emotions - how do I process and manage this new searing sadness?
Well by writing a song, of course!
I actually remember quite a bit from the time. I remember listening to The Magnetic Fields' "Charm of the Highway Strip" on repeat ad nauseum[3]. I remember the bitingly cold winter air turning to snow - another first. I remember a brief rebound-esque fling with another David...
But the song follows the hypothetical narrative of a purely mental sequence that never left my brain. It haunted me for some time. At some point I made the mistake of telling David about it. He assured me he wouldn't be catching HIV.
We tried to stay friends but not too long thereafter we lost touch. I don't remember much of him my sophomore year if at all. He graduated a year early and I two late. I suppose there would be some irony if we were to reunite and any of this were to transpire.
As a note, along with Diamond Rise and Half Moon Bay, this demo wasn't recorded for many years. It wasn't until eleven years later in 2006 or so - when I was in a VERY different point in my life - did this song ever get past my own ears.
- There are two particular points of amusement for me on this.
- I didn't choose Oberlin for the political landscape - I was quite unaware of it, in fact. I chose it for the ranking of the composition department
- Though I proudly thought of myself as liberal growing up, my arrival and exploration of politics brought me to a bewildering and embarrassing realization that I was still rather conservative.
- I didn't choose Oberlin for the political landscape - I was quite unaware of it, in fact. I chose it for the ranking of the composition department
- Though not necessarily probable! LOL
- It's still my go-to album for times of romantic crises and heartache.
Monday, November 14, 2011
[ BtS ] Half Moon Bay
It wasn't the first time I fell in love but it was definitely the quickest.
I don't remember exactly how I met Michael. I do remember that when he mentioned he was from Fresno[1] we had an instant bond. Nor do I remember him terribly well physically. He was a year or two my senior, slightly shorter than me, stocky, shaggy haired, and adorned with a goatee.
What lingers in my heart more is his personality. He had this wonderfully relaxed-yet-engaging, somewhat hippy-ish openness to his spirituality. Life was something to be experienced. And all experiences were meaningful in the long-run - especially deep, profound experiences.
Well Diamond Rise was more-or-less finished and foremost in my mind. In my freshly-out-to-myself, not-quite-sure-how-this-attraction-thing-works, and not-quite-yet-congizant-of-my-motivations innocence I asked him if he'd help me flesh out the guitar solo section. I was years away from having any multi-track recording capabilities so to have someone else play guitar and accompany me in this manner was a first.
He kindly agreed and we scuttled off to the practice rooms and got to work. I showed him the basic chord progression - C#m A C#m A C#m B A. I had a rather specific rhythm guitar part in mind but, for the sake of expediency, I may have not bothered with that. What happened then is ... an artistic moment caught in the amber of my mind.
Michael's style was a complete contrast from mine. His background was much more jazz and bluesy rock. Mine - such a strictly classical thing it hurt. But when they came together? In my ear fireworks were exploding, worlds colliding, oceans and cities moving.
I was lost in it. This was me diving head first, carrying a one-ton weight into the celestial waters of musical love.
The week - which somehow seemed closer to a year - came to an end of course. As I rode back to the central valley with my parents, I realized how crushed I was to be leaving it and Michael behind. And the clues hit me in the head.
I don't remember if I'd gotten Michael's number from him[2]. There's a footnote in my brain that says I looked him up using 411 or whatever system existed in those days. I do remember regaining contact with him and even getting to go to one of his gigs.
I also remember one phone call with him. He of course was in love with someone else - a young lady he'd met at Berklee in L.A. But over the course of this conversation he told me that he was moving up to Half Moon Bay, CA.
Half Moon Bay. I was in a highly romantic space - a nerd who spent much of his time lost in space and dreaming. The name itself conjured up some magical and enchanting realm that turned my mythical Diamond Rise to rhinestone.
Roughly two years later I'd perform it for the first time with my first band - Fen - at Oberlin. And finally, another six or seven years after that, I'd finally sit down to construct another beast - my "signature tune". What was once a fairly simple song would stretch to a 7+ minute spectacle with layers and layers of orchestration - culminating in a sort of sonic tsunami.
I have yet to ever visit Half Moon Bay, CA.
It was the summer of '93 and I had just turned 17 a few months before. I was hundreds - which at that age seem like thousands if not MILLIONS - of miles away from home attending the Berklee in L.A. program. Surrounded by musicians - mostly guitarists - my age from all areas of the west coast, it was a week of parentally-free late-adolescent bliss.
I don't remember exactly how I met Michael. I do remember that when he mentioned he was from Fresno[1] we had an instant bond. Nor do I remember him terribly well physically. He was a year or two my senior, slightly shorter than me, stocky, shaggy haired, and adorned with a goatee.
What lingers in my heart more is his personality. He had this wonderfully relaxed-yet-engaging, somewhat hippy-ish openness to his spirituality. Life was something to be experienced. And all experiences were meaningful in the long-run - especially deep, profound experiences.
Well Diamond Rise was more-or-less finished and foremost in my mind. In my freshly-out-to-myself, not-quite-sure-how-this-attraction-thing-works, and not-quite-yet-congizant-of-my-motivations innocence I asked him if he'd help me flesh out the guitar solo section. I was years away from having any multi-track recording capabilities so to have someone else play guitar and accompany me in this manner was a first.
He kindly agreed and we scuttled off to the practice rooms and got to work. I showed him the basic chord progression - C#m A C#m A C#m B A. I had a rather specific rhythm guitar part in mind but, for the sake of expediency, I may have not bothered with that. What happened then is ... an artistic moment caught in the amber of my mind.
Michael's style was a complete contrast from mine. His background was much more jazz and bluesy rock. Mine - such a strictly classical thing it hurt. But when they came together? In my ear fireworks were exploding, worlds colliding, oceans and cities moving.
I was lost in it. This was me diving head first, carrying a one-ton weight into the celestial waters of musical love.
The week - which somehow seemed closer to a year - came to an end of course. As I rode back to the central valley with my parents, I realized how crushed I was to be leaving it and Michael behind. And the clues hit me in the head.
I don't remember if I'd gotten Michael's number from him[2]. There's a footnote in my brain that says I looked him up using 411 or whatever system existed in those days. I do remember regaining contact with him and even getting to go to one of his gigs.
I also remember one phone call with him. He of course was in love with someone else - a young lady he'd met at Berklee in L.A. But over the course of this conversation he told me that he was moving up to Half Moon Bay, CA.
Half Moon Bay. I was in a highly romantic space - a nerd who spent much of his time lost in space and dreaming. The name itself conjured up some magical and enchanting realm that turned my mythical Diamond Rise to rhinestone.
Roughly two years later I'd perform it for the first time with my first band - Fen - at Oberlin. And finally, another six or seven years after that, I'd finally sit down to construct another beast - my "signature tune". What was once a fairly simple song would stretch to a 7+ minute spectacle with layers and layers of orchestration - culminating in a sort of sonic tsunami.
I have yet to ever visit Half Moon Bay, CA.
- Fresno is a mere 40 minutes north from my hometown of Visalia and a completely different world than the coast of CA which is where a majority of the attendees were from.
- Hard as it may be to believe, this was essentially pre-internet. BBSes existed but e-mail was still a couple years away from being even close to a household thing.
Monday, October 31, 2011
[ BtS ] Diamond Rise
I was about 16 when I wrote Diamond Rise and it’s the earliest song I still make any claim too.
It was 1992-ish give or take a few months. Silent Lucidity had inspired me to add guitar to what would soon become an ever growing list of instruments I play. I’d spent the past couple years both kinda dating a young lady and, at the same time, going through the rough process of coming out to myself and all that entails.
I remember a lot of the pain that caused both of us. In all fairness I told her before we began our month of official dating. Then year or two of unofficial dating/hanging out was an interesting symphony in … pain and confusion. I liked her, cared about her, and clearly wanted to be close to her. She wanted the closeness in a different way, however, than I was realizing I could offer.
I was tired of it all - the pain in my eyes and the pain in hers. I won’t even more than mention the brief time when I was in love with her best friend, he with her, and she with me. There was no romance in any of it. Just anguish mixed with awkward camaraderie.
I don’t think I ever read either of them the lyrics. I don’t think I even played it outside writing it by myself. And I’m not sure who the song was really written to - me or her. But there it was: the desire to be somewhere far from pain, to live in this mythical and magical world where everything was beauty and peace...
12 years later I’m living in Brooklyn, NY and I suddenly have the means for recording my music. Armed with ProTools and Reason I set about something of a mammoth task - trying to reconstruct a song I'd written over a decade prior using only a bare minimum of actual live instruments (guitar, bass, and vocals). The irony came circle - that I had gone to college to study composition to orchestrate rock songs only to end with a degree in performance of classical music. Now here I was putting Diamond Rise together at long last.
Overall I kept most of the writing I’d done back then[*]. What was once more electric did become more acoustic. Some of the lyrics got revised - still on the naive side but a little more mature. But the structure, the chord progressions and most of the guitar riffs remained - even some bits of the orchestration! (Yeah, I was already throwing in random key changes at that age! LOL)
I have yet to ever perform Diamond Rise.
- Okay. Writer's geek moment. My favorite spot is that lone G# in the solo around 2'50". Something about it just has that extra kick of passion and always catches my ear. *heee* Yes, the whole song AND THAT.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Adventures in Buskingsitting
Fellow guitarists take note: I learned today that (in the case of an emergency), if you pop your B string, you can move your high E string over and tune down to a B. Fairly effective!
James and I have done a number of gigs with an organization here in Philly - the Community Cultural Exchange. Their recent engagement is to bring back live music and buskers on South Street which is pretty cool. Tonight he and I took our turn on the famous Village-esque street of Philadelphia.
We plopped ourselves down at 6th and South - across from a fire department (where a former student of mine works or used to work) - and got ourselves set up. After a couple moments of discussion we got to work.
Wouldn't you know it? The middle of the FIRST verse of our SECOND song - TWANG! I felt the B string go. Fortunately I know the area moderately well. So after I muddled through the rest of the song, I told James what happened and then darted off towards Bluebond Guitars at 4th and South.
Rounded the corner to see what I was most afraid of - the metal gate was down indicating they were clearly closed. Turned around and huffed my way back to the pawn shop at 8th and South. Same damned gates.
ARGH.
At this point I'd run the options I knew of. I ducked inside a used CD/record store figuring if they didn't sell strings then maybe they knew another alternative. The clerk was friendly but only knew of a place west of Broad street (9 blocks too many!) and thought he'd seen one on 4th St south of South[1].
At this point I figured too much more delay was just silly. Went back to our spot[2], detuned the string, and swapped the pegs it was on. Tuned it back up to a B and, after a couple seconds of strings setting, started the set back up.
It wasn't the best tone, no. And the lack of an upper E string threw some of my chords a little wonky if not outright confused me for a second. (D major or minor chord? How do I... Oh yeah.) But it was serviceable - certainly much better than just trying to play without the B string. That gap is just... completely confuddling.
And the bottom line is that we still did pretty well. The tips could have been more generous, of course. But we enjoyed ourselves and the weather was almost perfect for busking. Maybe just a *tad* cold (for me at least) but not quite so cold that our muscles, joints, and vocal cords were affected.
James and I have done a number of gigs with an organization here in Philly - the Community Cultural Exchange. Their recent engagement is to bring back live music and buskers on South Street which is pretty cool. Tonight he and I took our turn on the famous Village-esque street of Philadelphia.
We plopped ourselves down at 6th and South - across from a fire department (where a former student of mine works or used to work) - and got ourselves set up. After a couple moments of discussion we got to work.
Wouldn't you know it? The middle of the FIRST verse of our SECOND song - TWANG! I felt the B string go. Fortunately I know the area moderately well. So after I muddled through the rest of the song, I told James what happened and then darted off towards Bluebond Guitars at 4th and South.
Rounded the corner to see what I was most afraid of - the metal gate was down indicating they were clearly closed. Turned around and huffed my way back to the pawn shop at 8th and South. Same damned gates.
ARGH.
At this point I'd run the options I knew of. I ducked inside a used CD/record store figuring if they didn't sell strings then maybe they knew another alternative. The clerk was friendly but only knew of a place west of Broad street (9 blocks too many!) and thought he'd seen one on 4th St south of South[1].
At this point I figured too much more delay was just silly. Went back to our spot[2], detuned the string, and swapped the pegs it was on. Tuned it back up to a B and, after a couple seconds of strings setting, started the set back up.
It wasn't the best tone, no. And the lack of an upper E string threw some of my chords a little wonky if not outright confused me for a second. (D major or minor chord? How do I... Oh yeah.) But it was serviceable - certainly much better than just trying to play without the B string. That gap is just... completely confuddling.
And the bottom line is that we still did pretty well. The tips could have been more generous, of course. But we enjoyed ourselves and the weather was almost perfect for busking. Maybe just a *tad* cold (for me at least) but not quite so cold that our muscles, joints, and vocal cords were affected.
- I only remembered what place he was talking about LONG after the busking was over. But that place is open only randomly. I suppose I could have checked but...
- James and I did try and contact a couple other people in hopes they might have or have access to a spare but that garnered no results.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Past Revisited
Oops. It's been almost a year since I updated things here. Life has actually been pretty good - it's a shame some of the better parts haven't gotten mentioned - at least yet.
Time. In time I'll recap the past few months and point forward for a change.
In the meantime, during my evening commute to work, as the specter of my face transgressed the shadowy substance of streets, I found myself reflecting upon a very specific moment in my life.
It's a slice of that homeless stretch that I (kinda ironically) mentioned in my previous post. I had taken a trip to Boston to visit a friend and to get away from my predicament. On the ride back to NYC, I found myself poring over my thoughts and spilling them into my laptop.
It's not a terribly happy post, mind you. In fact it's rather melancholy. Later I even deleted the blog that this was on in a much worse bout of depression. But it's such a quintessential piece of thread in my own tapestry...
Missives in Motion... (Or Rambling on the Road?) (2005-01-03 15:00)
(Ed: Wrote this last night on the bus ’home’ and, while I’ve done at least one round of spellchecking ’n stuff, it’s long and there are other things I should be wasting my time on. So fellow nitpickers, you’ve been warned. *heh*)
It’s shortly past 2:45 am and the streets and buildings of Boston are passing behind me - the Citgo sign, Jillians, Microcenter. The Charles is on my left and the dark waters capture and release the late night reflections of the city lights.
First stop Providence. Then Foxwoods. Then another stop then another... Final destination: New York City.
Small patches of snow remain like dust in a poorly swept room.
The streets and houses seem to shift slowly though perceptibly. Gone are most of the taller buildings and residential units - houses, double deckers, brownstones, those three story things, churches, parks, auto shops... all signs that my 3 years are once again sliding back to the far east coast of my consciousness.
At one point I could probably have mentioned which cities I was passing through as my ex and I took route 90 back to his place.
No longer.
The overpasses and breakdown lanes look just the same as they do in New York - at least by moonlight. It’s funny how similar things seem at night...
Memories lurk just beneath the surface of my consciousness like pasta as it boils - each briefly snagging a tiny piece of my thought processes and throwing almost random imagery into my mental eye. But I decide not to dwell on them.
We reach the Mass Turnpike and pass through in a matter of moments.
A matter of moments...
I’m not on this bus to get to NYC fast. Quite the opposite. Before long I hope to sleep - a bed on the back roads of the USA, I guess. Well, maybe not the back roads but...
For a night I’m not worried about lodging - about becoming the guest who never left. My body is, in its own way, in tandem with my mind - drifting the vague stretches of existence. I find that, in the midst of my housing and domestic crisis that I do feel strangely at home.
Images of Boston and NYC blur together and somehow they become indiscrete places. New York melts into Boston as Boston slides from the urban womb of New York City.
Odd.
Yes, it’s lonely. But I’ve been contemplating the loneliness my life exists in all night. It’s not the weepy, teary-eyed, I’ll-never-find-a-date-and-die-a-horrible-old-harridan kind of loneliness. Rather, it’s the singularity and disconnected from everyone yet connected to everyone kind of loneliness.
Yes, instead it’s the type of loneliness where I belong to no one by choice and by design. Yet, my heart seems to wander to everyone. My friends in both New York and Boston know of my love for them and they are part of my amorphous and wonderfully dysfunctional family. And, as I ponder the open sea of possibilities I can feel my heart strings cast out on the lines of the world wide web - reaching to touch faces and hands in other parts of the country.
There’s friends and lovers in Austin, Rochester, Toronto, Hawaii, San Francisco, Seattle, Kansas, Ireland, Manitoba...
Well, maybe not Manitoba. I’m not sure these days.
But with the dawn of the ’new year’ freshly behind me the sense of ’fresh starts’ and ’recaps’ seems horribly artificial. The road stretches on and on and as houses finally begin to give way to trees and shrubs, and no distinct point of departure seems to exist. Rather I was about there 10 minutes ago and back there at least four Dunkin Donuts and one ChiChi’s ago...
Fox 25 bursts out from the blackness in a strange and alien sort of colored bubble ice cream cone with pastel colored scoops and a somehow decrepit atmosphere. Orange sorbet stares at me from the number of street signs that flash back the buses headlights - reminding me of the temperamental and transitional nature of my thoughts and existence.
Yes, there was a time when I thought that love was where it’s at. I gave my heart to someone that I thought was doing the country a wonderful service - containing some of MA’s most despicable citizens. I gave my heart to someone who had seen 15 years disappear in a moment, in the span of one heartbeat to the deafening silence of forever.
So I turn and watch as a few non-descript factory or some sort of vaguely warehouse-ish constructs pass by the window.
It all seems to connect, though. My pain to his. Or perhaps it was his to mine. But as those threads were torn and those fantasies broken. As truth was revealed to me in bits and pieces of second hand-me-down information my life was already in change.
No longer do I believe in _one_. In fact, it had been a while since I did. it was like I had forgotten ’cuz I was so taken by playing with this new toy called ’partnership’ or ’domestication’ or ’relationship’ or a number of words and phrases that protected me or hid me from the reality of my lonely existence.
Yes, the toy was broken now. just as the streets grow dark and the lights fewer, it was time to put the pieces behind me and work past the points that most people would refer to as ’normal’ or ’productive’ or various other tokens that would seem to somehow attempt to capture what it is to be human or otherwise alive.
But me?
Well, the darkness begins to abate as it always will and another city or such group of dwellings and workings begins to form out of the darkness. This one we’re not stopping at. No, it’s another series of images destined for being overlayed with my reflection.
But me? No, there’s the darkness again - both on the road and, perhaps ironically, obscuring the metaphysical and philosophical and metaphorical roads of life that are in front of me.
What next? Where’s the next stop? Will it be a piss ’n shit stop here? Or will it be an eat and drop off there?
Well strangely, as I sit here and contemplate this contemplation of contemplating; as I reach my imaginary heart strings to the threads of my friends existences; as my numbing behind glides effortlessly above the pavement; as I reflect on the travels past and the travels ahead; as I think about where music - my essence and definition - may or may not take me, has and hasn’t taken me... I find myself holding an answer.
THIS.
This. At 3:33 am, in near darkness of deserted highway, this concept of my life as a transient seems more palpable than ever. And, in this sort of feedback-loop, it unfolds... Like a half-cadence music propels my life from one spot to the next, from one verse to another, from one refrain to the bridge and back again... I love no one yet love everyone. I live nowhere yet live everywhere. The lines drawn in the sand are discarded by the indifferent waves of reality.
Another city folds into being like a cloud entered while flying only to dissipate shortly thereafter into another string of walls and lights then to lights then to strangely effervescent green signs that indicate the next interruption.
It’s approaching 3:45. Lights and buildings are more consistent now. The next stop is Providence. In a way, I hope the metaphor remains and that the next point of my life will be more fulfilling than the current stretch of anxiety, desperation, despair and disillusionment.
Yes, we’re in Providence. The twisted roads, confusing scribbles of highway and streets bring back memories I haven’t danced with in ages. The bath houses we used to frequent... The one strip bar I’ve visited... Contrast that with the extremely old-world, puritanical architecture and the paradox is amusing and refreshing. My life is a sort of paradox. Old and new, baroque and experimental, acoustic and electric... again, single yet poly-affected...
I notice that the battery indicates 2 hours remaining. Yet recent sessions seem to hint that my battery is becoming unreliable. I’m tempted to shut down shortly and draw this monologue to a close.
The moment seems right. The driver may be lost, I’m running short of time, someone behind me is shouting out directions - to the driver, I suppose.
Once again my silent sophist sojourn returns to the same thing - ever changing yet constant in that change. A series of chord patterns that I improvise my life over, hoping to hit the stops together and develop some sort of timing that one might call ’tight.’
It’s nearing 4 am and, yes, I think this we’re near the bathhouse. Ironic in a way yet appropriate.
The bounce of the bus would only be so kind as to rock me to sleep but no... However I know I need to sleep so I prepare to shutdown and hope that further inspiration will somehow retain in my head... Although the lights intrude on my spiritual reflection they enhance my physical reflection.
Aye, this tune ended bars ago and now we’re far into the coda... It will be played again. But for now, the band needs a break.
Night, kids, from a life on the road - just me, my bass, a handful of dreams and ambitions, and a bunch of unknowns.
Time. In time I'll recap the past few months and point forward for a change.
In the meantime, during my evening commute to work, as the specter of my face transgressed the shadowy substance of streets, I found myself reflecting upon a very specific moment in my life.
It's a slice of that homeless stretch that I (kinda ironically) mentioned in my previous post. I had taken a trip to Boston to visit a friend and to get away from my predicament. On the ride back to NYC, I found myself poring over my thoughts and spilling them into my laptop.
It's not a terribly happy post, mind you. In fact it's rather melancholy. Later I even deleted the blog that this was on in a much worse bout of depression. But it's such a quintessential piece of thread in my own tapestry...
Missives in Motion... (Or Rambling on the Road?) (2005-01-03 15:00)
(Ed: Wrote this last night on the bus ’home’ and, while I’ve done at least one round of spellchecking ’n stuff, it’s long and there are other things I should be wasting my time on. So fellow nitpickers, you’ve been warned. *heh*)
It’s shortly past 2:45 am and the streets and buildings of Boston are passing behind me - the Citgo sign, Jillians, Microcenter. The Charles is on my left and the dark waters capture and release the late night reflections of the city lights.
First stop Providence. Then Foxwoods. Then another stop then another... Final destination: New York City.
Small patches of snow remain like dust in a poorly swept room.
The streets and houses seem to shift slowly though perceptibly. Gone are most of the taller buildings and residential units - houses, double deckers, brownstones, those three story things, churches, parks, auto shops... all signs that my 3 years are once again sliding back to the far east coast of my consciousness.
At one point I could probably have mentioned which cities I was passing through as my ex and I took route 90 back to his place.
No longer.
The overpasses and breakdown lanes look just the same as they do in New York - at least by moonlight. It’s funny how similar things seem at night...
Memories lurk just beneath the surface of my consciousness like pasta as it boils - each briefly snagging a tiny piece of my thought processes and throwing almost random imagery into my mental eye. But I decide not to dwell on them.
We reach the Mass Turnpike and pass through in a matter of moments.
A matter of moments...
I’m not on this bus to get to NYC fast. Quite the opposite. Before long I hope to sleep - a bed on the back roads of the USA, I guess. Well, maybe not the back roads but...
For a night I’m not worried about lodging - about becoming the guest who never left. My body is, in its own way, in tandem with my mind - drifting the vague stretches of existence. I find that, in the midst of my housing and domestic crisis that I do feel strangely at home.
Images of Boston and NYC blur together and somehow they become indiscrete places. New York melts into Boston as Boston slides from the urban womb of New York City.
Odd.
Yes, it’s lonely. But I’ve been contemplating the loneliness my life exists in all night. It’s not the weepy, teary-eyed, I’ll-never-find-a-date-and-die-a-horrible-old-harridan kind of loneliness. Rather, it’s the singularity and disconnected from everyone yet connected to everyone kind of loneliness.
Yes, instead it’s the type of loneliness where I belong to no one by choice and by design. Yet, my heart seems to wander to everyone. My friends in both New York and Boston know of my love for them and they are part of my amorphous and wonderfully dysfunctional family. And, as I ponder the open sea of possibilities I can feel my heart strings cast out on the lines of the world wide web - reaching to touch faces and hands in other parts of the country.
There’s friends and lovers in Austin, Rochester, Toronto, Hawaii, San Francisco, Seattle, Kansas, Ireland, Manitoba...
Well, maybe not Manitoba. I’m not sure these days.
But with the dawn of the ’new year’ freshly behind me the sense of ’fresh starts’ and ’recaps’ seems horribly artificial. The road stretches on and on and as houses finally begin to give way to trees and shrubs, and no distinct point of departure seems to exist. Rather I was about there 10 minutes ago and back there at least four Dunkin Donuts and one ChiChi’s ago...
Fox 25 bursts out from the blackness in a strange and alien sort of colored bubble ice cream cone with pastel colored scoops and a somehow decrepit atmosphere. Orange sorbet stares at me from the number of street signs that flash back the buses headlights - reminding me of the temperamental and transitional nature of my thoughts and existence.
Yes, there was a time when I thought that love was where it’s at. I gave my heart to someone that I thought was doing the country a wonderful service - containing some of MA’s most despicable citizens. I gave my heart to someone who had seen 15 years disappear in a moment, in the span of one heartbeat to the deafening silence of forever.
So I turn and watch as a few non-descript factory or some sort of vaguely warehouse-ish constructs pass by the window.
It all seems to connect, though. My pain to his. Or perhaps it was his to mine. But as those threads were torn and those fantasies broken. As truth was revealed to me in bits and pieces of second hand-me-down information my life was already in change.
No longer do I believe in _one_. In fact, it had been a while since I did. it was like I had forgotten ’cuz I was so taken by playing with this new toy called ’partnership’ or ’domestication’ or ’relationship’ or a number of words and phrases that protected me or hid me from the reality of my lonely existence.
Yes, the toy was broken now. just as the streets grow dark and the lights fewer, it was time to put the pieces behind me and work past the points that most people would refer to as ’normal’ or ’productive’ or various other tokens that would seem to somehow attempt to capture what it is to be human or otherwise alive.
But me?
Well, the darkness begins to abate as it always will and another city or such group of dwellings and workings begins to form out of the darkness. This one we’re not stopping at. No, it’s another series of images destined for being overlayed with my reflection.
But me? No, there’s the darkness again - both on the road and, perhaps ironically, obscuring the metaphysical and philosophical and metaphorical roads of life that are in front of me.
What next? Where’s the next stop? Will it be a piss ’n shit stop here? Or will it be an eat and drop off there?
Well strangely, as I sit here and contemplate this contemplation of contemplating; as I reach my imaginary heart strings to the threads of my friends existences; as my numbing behind glides effortlessly above the pavement; as I reflect on the travels past and the travels ahead; as I think about where music - my essence and definition - may or may not take me, has and hasn’t taken me... I find myself holding an answer.
THIS.
This. At 3:33 am, in near darkness of deserted highway, this concept of my life as a transient seems more palpable than ever. And, in this sort of feedback-loop, it unfolds... Like a half-cadence music propels my life from one spot to the next, from one verse to another, from one refrain to the bridge and back again... I love no one yet love everyone. I live nowhere yet live everywhere. The lines drawn in the sand are discarded by the indifferent waves of reality.
Another city folds into being like a cloud entered while flying only to dissipate shortly thereafter into another string of walls and lights then to lights then to strangely effervescent green signs that indicate the next interruption.
It’s approaching 3:45. Lights and buildings are more consistent now. The next stop is Providence. In a way, I hope the metaphor remains and that the next point of my life will be more fulfilling than the current stretch of anxiety, desperation, despair and disillusionment.
Yes, we’re in Providence. The twisted roads, confusing scribbles of highway and streets bring back memories I haven’t danced with in ages. The bath houses we used to frequent... The one strip bar I’ve visited... Contrast that with the extremely old-world, puritanical architecture and the paradox is amusing and refreshing. My life is a sort of paradox. Old and new, baroque and experimental, acoustic and electric... again, single yet poly-affected...
I notice that the battery indicates 2 hours remaining. Yet recent sessions seem to hint that my battery is becoming unreliable. I’m tempted to shut down shortly and draw this monologue to a close.
The moment seems right. The driver may be lost, I’m running short of time, someone behind me is shouting out directions - to the driver, I suppose.
Once again my silent sophist sojourn returns to the same thing - ever changing yet constant in that change. A series of chord patterns that I improvise my life over, hoping to hit the stops together and develop some sort of timing that one might call ’tight.’
It’s nearing 4 am and, yes, I think this we’re near the bathhouse. Ironic in a way yet appropriate.
The bounce of the bus would only be so kind as to rock me to sleep but no... However I know I need to sleep so I prepare to shutdown and hope that further inspiration will somehow retain in my head... Although the lights intrude on my spiritual reflection they enhance my physical reflection.
Aye, this tune ended bars ago and now we’re far into the coda... It will be played again. But for now, the band needs a break.
Night, kids, from a life on the road - just me, my bass, a handful of dreams and ambitions, and a bunch of unknowns.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Chaos Theory Meets Rumination
Strange how life moves - how some pick a path that leads them up *there* while others follow a path that leads them down *there*. No one ever knows until much later.
It was almost a decade ago now. In 2003 I left a cushy 40k dead-end-to-me job in Boston for a life of who-knows-what-the-fuck-will-happen 0k in NYC. No longer would I be a fucking web developer. I was now to be a permanent full-time musician.
If I could.
Do I regret the choice? No. But it has meant some... interesting times for me.
I admit I didn't enter New York City with the best mental and spiritual infrastructure. Musically I've been broken for a while. My confidence has been 50% at best since leaving Oberlin.
But this didn't matter to me. I was in NYC!!!
Anywho. I landed in a very interesting time for LGBT musicians. Outmusic was a rather centrifying force. Numerous musicians - largely in NYC but really across the country - had connections and there was really a feeling of moving _forward_ as queer artists.
It was during these times that I met and started to follow a rather captivating young man: Justin Tranter. A Berklee grad (ironically) he had an amazing stage presence and a rather scalpel-precise ability at songwriting. His band at the time was just as electrifying. I stood in sheer awe of his bassist[*].
The point I have bringing Justin up is that, a few years later, he cast off basically everything he'd done and reformed himself into the band now known as Semi-Precious Weapons. If you follow Lady Gaga, you may very well know who this band is. Certainly they had a cameo in her "Telephone" video.
The irony is that Lady Gaga apparently used to open for Semi-Precious Weapons. The Diva of the 00's - once a mere tangent to someone I knew. The connection is... baffling.
Oh, I'm sure if you asked Justin who "Toshio Mana" is, he'd probably scratch his head perplexed at best if not respond with an outright blank, "sorry - no clue." Maybe he'd remember the name Freddy Freeman. Probably "Outmusic".
But, at that time, I lost track of Justin. SPW just didn't catch me as much as he had solo. And ... well, life made it more and more difficult to keep up with his shows. I honestly couldn't tell you any of their tunes while I could still sing some of his older stuff.
Such is life.
In the meantime life took me down a rather different course. I won't pretend to have made the best of choices. I won't pretend to be the smartest person alive nor the most business savvy. In part I have my beliefs - some of which I've stood by, others I've sacrificed.
Regardless it's been years now. I've been homeless. I've slept on subways. I've been a failure. I've been a refuge in my own damnation. I've been my own, "behind the music" episode.
Where I am now is drastically different than where I expected to be. In some ways it fits better - I'm teaching music, I'm still working with James. In some, it's nowhere near good enough - I'm no longer in NYC, I'm not gigging enough.
But life changes so drastically and so quickly... What *is* one moment may have little bearing on what is the next. Do you fight now? Or fight later? It may mean everything and it may mean nothing.
You never know.
It was almost a decade ago now. In 2003 I left a cushy 40k dead-end-to-me job in Boston for a life of who-knows-what-the-fuck-will-happen 0k in NYC. No longer would I be a fucking web developer. I was now to be a permanent full-time musician.
If I could.
Do I regret the choice? No. But it has meant some... interesting times for me.
I admit I didn't enter New York City with the best mental and spiritual infrastructure. Musically I've been broken for a while. My confidence has been 50% at best since leaving Oberlin.
But this didn't matter to me. I was in NYC!!!
Anywho. I landed in a very interesting time for LGBT musicians. Outmusic was a rather centrifying force. Numerous musicians - largely in NYC but really across the country - had connections and there was really a feeling of moving _forward_ as queer artists.
It was during these times that I met and started to follow a rather captivating young man: Justin Tranter. A Berklee grad (ironically) he had an amazing stage presence and a rather scalpel-precise ability at songwriting. His band at the time was just as electrifying. I stood in sheer awe of his bassist[*].
The point I have bringing Justin up is that, a few years later, he cast off basically everything he'd done and reformed himself into the band now known as Semi-Precious Weapons. If you follow Lady Gaga, you may very well know who this band is. Certainly they had a cameo in her "Telephone" video.
The irony is that Lady Gaga apparently used to open for Semi-Precious Weapons. The Diva of the 00's - once a mere tangent to someone I knew. The connection is... baffling.
Oh, I'm sure if you asked Justin who "Toshio Mana" is, he'd probably scratch his head perplexed at best if not respond with an outright blank, "sorry - no clue." Maybe he'd remember the name Freddy Freeman. Probably "Outmusic".
But, at that time, I lost track of Justin. SPW just didn't catch me as much as he had solo. And ... well, life made it more and more difficult to keep up with his shows. I honestly couldn't tell you any of their tunes while I could still sing some of his older stuff.
Such is life.
In the meantime life took me down a rather different course. I won't pretend to have made the best of choices. I won't pretend to be the smartest person alive nor the most business savvy. In part I have my beliefs - some of which I've stood by, others I've sacrificed.
Regardless it's been years now. I've been homeless. I've slept on subways. I've been a failure. I've been a refuge in my own damnation. I've been my own, "behind the music" episode.
Where I am now is drastically different than where I expected to be. In some ways it fits better - I'm teaching music, I'm still working with James. In some, it's nowhere near good enough - I'm no longer in NYC, I'm not gigging enough.
But life changes so drastically and so quickly... What *is* one moment may have little bearing on what is the next. Do you fight now? Or fight later? It may mean everything and it may mean nothing.
You never know.
- I remember getting a compliment from the guy after a gig I did as Daniel Cartier's bassist. I never quite believed it. I never felt I deserved praise from the guy.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Progress or something like...
Yes, again with the silence.
Oy.
Seriously, though, there have been some major changes in life. Back in April or May I FINALLY left that goddamned store - something I think was very definitely LONG overdue.
The story behind that is actually kind of amusing. The whole economic situation threw the chain into some turmoil - as it has with basically every sector, of course. There were some heavy changes in management and all of a sudden the pressure was on the store to axe all part time employees.
Yes. Seriously. Get rid of the people we don't have to pay additional shit for like health insurance.
O... K...
So the second-in-command of the store had a talk with me informing me that they needed me to work Wednesdays and, if I couldn't do this, my job was in jeopardy. Well I've been working at Settlement since before I took the Sam Ash gig. It's my best day there. I get paid roughly $25/hr there versus just over minimum wage at the store.
Oh. And I actually LIKE teaching! Guess what I was NOT going to kiss goodbye?
A couple days later I was at the school getting done with my teaching duties. I walked downstairs to put my roll sheet away and fill out my time card. The branch director turned to me and asked if I was still working at Sam Ash.
"It's funny you ask," I told him and then laid out the whole OMGWTFBBQ I was in.
"Ah. What would you think about working here in the reception desk?"
Needless to say I was floored. I went from insane near-melt-down stress to euphoria in such a short time... Yes, I HAD fantasized about getting fired and no I was not horrified at the reality of the situation. But to have an option like working at the school more just sort of fall into my lap?
UNBELIEVABLE.
So a couple days of serious thought pass and I gleefully gave my two weeks notice at the store. (Ironically one guy quit and I was suddenly very much NEEDED. But so goes the karma, right?)
N.E.WHO...
Life since then has been an interesting roller coaster. I'll spare the details for now and just say that, overall, I am *MUCH* happier. I'm paid less per hour but saving so much on time, travel, and sanity that I can't even begin to complain about leaving. There's some bullshit I'm getting sick of and the honeymoon has sort of worn off. But... yeah. NO SAM ASH!!!
Still, I'm actually now in a rather... interesting position. I have an opportunity to get more involved with some of the programs. Specifically songwriting.
I'm actually VERY excited at this notion. I'd love to teach theory more and I'd love to teach songwriting. But of course it does bring up that whole, "well look at the not-so-kid-friendly stuff I've written" pink elephant that's been sitting on my table.
Yeah... *cough*
So I'm at that juncture in my life where I have to evaluate that rather openly gay stuff I've written and figure out how to... address it in the context of children or non-adults. I don't want to completely back into the closet of course. But I don't think some of my lyrics would win parents over - even with the queerness aside!
At the moment I simply took the two songs in question and made them "fan-exclusive" on ReverbNation. But if you just google my name... Yeah. Open secret time!
Oy.
Seriously, though, there have been some major changes in life. Back in April or May I FINALLY left that goddamned store - something I think was very definitely LONG overdue.
The story behind that is actually kind of amusing. The whole economic situation threw the chain into some turmoil - as it has with basically every sector, of course. There were some heavy changes in management and all of a sudden the pressure was on the store to axe all part time employees.
Yes. Seriously. Get rid of the people we don't have to pay additional shit for like health insurance.
O... K...
So the second-in-command of the store had a talk with me informing me that they needed me to work Wednesdays and, if I couldn't do this, my job was in jeopardy. Well I've been working at Settlement since before I took the Sam Ash gig. It's my best day there. I get paid roughly $25/hr there versus just over minimum wage at the store.
Oh. And I actually LIKE teaching! Guess what I was NOT going to kiss goodbye?
A couple days later I was at the school getting done with my teaching duties. I walked downstairs to put my roll sheet away and fill out my time card. The branch director turned to me and asked if I was still working at Sam Ash.
"It's funny you ask," I told him and then laid out the whole OMGWTFBBQ I was in.
"Ah. What would you think about working here in the reception desk?"
Needless to say I was floored. I went from insane near-melt-down stress to euphoria in such a short time... Yes, I HAD fantasized about getting fired and no I was not horrified at the reality of the situation. But to have an option like working at the school more just sort of fall into my lap?
UNBELIEVABLE.
So a couple days of serious thought pass and I gleefully gave my two weeks notice at the store. (Ironically one guy quit and I was suddenly very much NEEDED. But so goes the karma, right?)
N.E.WHO...
Life since then has been an interesting roller coaster. I'll spare the details for now and just say that, overall, I am *MUCH* happier. I'm paid less per hour but saving so much on time, travel, and sanity that I can't even begin to complain about leaving. There's some bullshit I'm getting sick of and the honeymoon has sort of worn off. But... yeah. NO SAM ASH!!!
Still, I'm actually now in a rather... interesting position. I have an opportunity to get more involved with some of the programs. Specifically songwriting.
I'm actually VERY excited at this notion. I'd love to teach theory more and I'd love to teach songwriting. But of course it does bring up that whole, "well look at the not-so-kid-friendly stuff I've written" pink elephant that's been sitting on my table.
Yeah... *cough*
So I'm at that juncture in my life where I have to evaluate that rather openly gay stuff I've written and figure out how to... address it in the context of children or non-adults. I don't want to completely back into the closet of course. But I don't think some of my lyrics would win parents over - even with the queerness aside!
At the moment I simply took the two songs in question and made them "fan-exclusive" on ReverbNation. But if you just google my name... Yeah. Open secret time!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Pi-rony
I've lost it.
No, not my mind. Though certainly that, too... But rather my old logo for Project::in•fin•i•ty - my old experimental/concept art-ish music.
See I started the project back in 1995 or so. (God, 15 years!) Naturally, it's been evolving. Or changing. I'm not sure the "progress" implications of "evolve" are being met currently... But more on *that* later.
Anywho, the logo I developed was a dorky little thing that's most appropriate for today - a π/0 enclosed in a circle. Why? Well for one "pi" just happens to be an abbreviation for "Project::in•fin•i•ty". Divided by zero? 'Cuz it results in something undefinable.
But why a circle and not an ∞? I'm not entirely sure. If I had a reasoning, I've forgotten. I think perhaps that the ∞ just seems so obligatory. A circle is often used to refer to something unending and cyclical. Plus it's just a kinda visually cool way to (contradictorily) bind up the symbolism.
There's a sad irony to this. A couple days ago I started compiling a list of all the stuff I've started producing/writing/developing in the past few months. Now I spent the better part of 2007-2009 virtually devoid of any creative products. I wrote maybe one song during that time - one for my most recent ex. (And it's a craptacular tune if you ask me...) So for me to look back and acknowledge a sudden blossoming of creative energy was REALLY revitalizing.
Of course that came to something of a screeching halt today. I just... Well, a friend had sent me a link to an iPhone orchestra. And when I finally pulled up the article this evening?
I really started questioning the quality of this creative streak I've been on.
Okay, I fully acknowledge that "quality" is a rather ambiguous subject and a rather useless yardstick when it comes to art. But... well, see music is a selfish thing. For me at least. When I create, when I play, the important person to please is *ME*.
Bottom line: if I walk away unhappy, I failed.
That doesn't mean the audience has no say in the process, of course. Indeed I'm glad when others can appreciate what I can't. It does help sometimes. And sometimes the point of a performance is not so much the piece or song as it *is* the audience's reaction - pulling that string there, pushing that button there, evoking that thought/emotion/experience here...
But if I walk away unhappy then... what have I done? For me? Nothing. And as someone who pushes himself to create the best he can? I've created and given something *I* consider sub-par to others. Again: NotGood™.
See I'm not entirely convinced the mindset of "let it be what it will be" is always appropriate. If I'm just playing for others, then what am I doing other than vomiting a mass of musical ideas at people?
"Here. Would you like some 'tasty phrases'? *RALPH* Or perhaps some 'bittersweet melody'? *HURL* Well maybe what you think I think you think you want is some 'sexy beats'. *UPCHUCK*"
Yeah. Not something *I* would appreciate.
Back to the point, though...
These videos just remind me that I'm in a constant state of dichotomy. Experimental vs pop, difficult to chew vs. easily disposable. I... I don't know. I don't have any focus.
Ultimately, while I'm rather happy with some of the stuff I have created ("Cold" and "Jesus Year" being two where I feel I pretty much nailed what I wanted to say and _how_), I don't feel like much of any of it is really propelling me in the directions I want to go. In fact, in many ways, they're the complete opposite - that cute little knick-knack store you just *have* to go back and check out even though you're DREADFULLY late for an important meeting...
Oh, I know that life is very much more about the experiences along the way as compared to the actual goal. (And, believe me, I have had some AMAZING experiences along the way) But... too often I find myself in this situation - where I realize I'm backtracking farther than I want - and that, in these times, I'm really desperately angry with myself.
See I'm frustrated that I have no direction or no focus. I'm doing too many things and yet getting nothing done. I do have a vision, things I want to do, things I horribly miss. But how to get to them? I don't know. I keep getting sidetracked.
I keep running. And running. And getting nowhere.
And all I feel like I'm really doing is running in circles.
No, not my mind. Though certainly that, too... But rather my old logo for Project::in•fin•i•ty - my old experimental/concept art-ish music.
See I started the project back in 1995 or so. (God, 15 years!) Naturally, it's been evolving. Or changing. I'm not sure the "progress" implications of "evolve" are being met currently... But more on *that* later.
Anywho, the logo I developed was a dorky little thing that's most appropriate for today - a π/0 enclosed in a circle. Why? Well for one "pi" just happens to be an abbreviation for "Project::in•fin•i•ty". Divided by zero? 'Cuz it results in something undefinable.
But why a circle and not an ∞? I'm not entirely sure. If I had a reasoning, I've forgotten. I think perhaps that the ∞ just seems so obligatory. A circle is often used to refer to something unending and cyclical. Plus it's just a kinda visually cool way to (contradictorily) bind up the symbolism.
There's a sad irony to this. A couple days ago I started compiling a list of all the stuff I've started producing/writing/developing in the past few months. Now I spent the better part of 2007-2009 virtually devoid of any creative products. I wrote maybe one song during that time - one for my most recent ex. (And it's a craptacular tune if you ask me...) So for me to look back and acknowledge a sudden blossoming of creative energy was REALLY revitalizing.
Of course that came to something of a screeching halt today. I just... Well, a friend had sent me a link to an iPhone orchestra. And when I finally pulled up the article this evening?
I really started questioning the quality of this creative streak I've been on.
Okay, I fully acknowledge that "quality" is a rather ambiguous subject and a rather useless yardstick when it comes to art. But... well, see music is a selfish thing. For me at least. When I create, when I play, the important person to please is *ME*.
Bottom line: if I walk away unhappy, I failed.
That doesn't mean the audience has no say in the process, of course. Indeed I'm glad when others can appreciate what I can't. It does help sometimes. And sometimes the point of a performance is not so much the piece or song as it *is* the audience's reaction - pulling that string there, pushing that button there, evoking that thought/emotion/experience here...
But if I walk away unhappy then... what have I done? For me? Nothing. And as someone who pushes himself to create the best he can? I've created and given something *I* consider sub-par to others. Again: NotGood™.
See I'm not entirely convinced the mindset of "let it be what it will be" is always appropriate. If I'm just playing for others, then what am I doing other than vomiting a mass of musical ideas at people?
"Here. Would you like some 'tasty phrases'? *RALPH* Or perhaps some 'bittersweet melody'? *HURL* Well maybe what you think I think you think you want is some 'sexy beats'. *UPCHUCK*"
Yeah. Not something *I* would appreciate.
Back to the point, though...
These videos just remind me that I'm in a constant state of dichotomy. Experimental vs pop, difficult to chew vs. easily disposable. I... I don't know. I don't have any focus.
Ultimately, while I'm rather happy with some of the stuff I have created ("Cold" and "Jesus Year" being two where I feel I pretty much nailed what I wanted to say and _how_), I don't feel like much of any of it is really propelling me in the directions I want to go. In fact, in many ways, they're the complete opposite - that cute little knick-knack store you just *have* to go back and check out even though you're DREADFULLY late for an important meeting...
Oh, I know that life is very much more about the experiences along the way as compared to the actual goal. (And, believe me, I have had some AMAZING experiences along the way) But... too often I find myself in this situation - where I realize I'm backtracking farther than I want - and that, in these times, I'm really desperately angry with myself.
See I'm frustrated that I have no direction or no focus. I'm doing too many things and yet getting nothing done. I do have a vision, things I want to do, things I horribly miss. But how to get to them? I don't know. I keep getting sidetracked.
I keep running. And running. And getting nowhere.
And all I feel like I'm really doing is running in circles.
Friday, March 5, 2010
And introducing Mr. McHappy Tunes!
I've been pretty heavily at work on some tunes for another Trannywood Productions film. I'm having mixed success - mostly in that my computer keeps deciding to crash at the least-convenient times. Or just generally starts fucking up - it's all about the same, really.
And then sometimes I start working on something, get in a groove, love it, and only later realize it's not really... appropriate. That's happened a couple times now.
Ah well. I have much coming soon!
The fun part today was getting a call from June. She needed to get together with someone and jam. I know that feeling. So I obliged and had her come over.
We had the usual sort of, "well, what should we do?" sorta ... collapse in. LOL. (I've really been so mono-focused on the TwP stuff!) I played her some of the stuff in progress and putzed around a bit.
Eventually I came up with a riff and, after a moment, we went with it. It's nothing horribly fancy - Bm, F#m, A, E. Etc. But, as I can often do, within the span of roughly 15 minutes I had the outline for a song.
Well, all except the lyrics of course. LOL.
Over the course of the couple hours we shaped it up. After the verse, the chorus came pretty quickly. I dithered about for a while on a "bridge" section before finally deciding on a ... well, I guess "chunky" quarter-note heavy 4/4 or half-time-ish pump thing.
You've heard the idea before. I know you have.
After that comes the typical drop down to soft before the build to the last chorus... Yes, it's formulaic. And YES, I LOVE IT.
When we got done she asked me to put together a demo of it. So after she took me out for dinner I decided to whip up something quick-ish.
It's not often I write something kinda upbeat. (And yes, I was the primary songwriter this time.) I think having her here to sound a lot of ideas off of helped. There's something about having that energy to play with puts you in such a different head space.
In the hour or so I threw it together I'm actually fairly happy. It's probably a little more radio-friendly than a majority of my stuff. And again it's a bit derivative.
Still, I'm having fun!
But yeah, I'm trying to figure out where this one is going, too. The phrase, "hot mess" is stuck in my head. And, believe it or not, I kinda think it's gonna be a little bit of a feel-good-ish tune.
I just kinda wanna celebrate all the "freaks", "crazies", and eccentrics - the people who can go outside many social conventions, wearing their catsuits and costumes to Walmart, etc - who make this world a lot more interesting of a place. Those who can throw judgment out the window and walk the street unafraid. Those who can remind us (if we let them) that we need to get over ourselves and *be* ourselves.
Yeah, I know it's been done before. So what? I'm writing a non-morose tune! Why it's even a little ... dare I say it? DANCEABLE! *GASP*
And then sometimes I start working on something, get in a groove, love it, and only later realize it's not really... appropriate. That's happened a couple times now.
Ah well. I have much coming soon!
The fun part today was getting a call from June. She needed to get together with someone and jam. I know that feeling. So I obliged and had her come over.
We had the usual sort of, "well, what should we do?" sorta ... collapse in. LOL. (I've really been so mono-focused on the TwP stuff!) I played her some of the stuff in progress and putzed around a bit.
Eventually I came up with a riff and, after a moment, we went with it. It's nothing horribly fancy - Bm, F#m, A, E. Etc. But, as I can often do, within the span of roughly 15 minutes I had the outline for a song.
Well, all except the lyrics of course. LOL.
Over the course of the couple hours we shaped it up. After the verse, the chorus came pretty quickly. I dithered about for a while on a "bridge" section before finally deciding on a ... well, I guess "chunky" quarter-note heavy 4/4 or half-time-ish pump thing.
You've heard the idea before. I know you have.
After that comes the typical drop down to soft before the build to the last chorus... Yes, it's formulaic. And YES, I LOVE IT.
When we got done she asked me to put together a demo of it. So after she took me out for dinner I decided to whip up something quick-ish.
It's not often I write something kinda upbeat. (And yes, I was the primary songwriter this time.) I think having her here to sound a lot of ideas off of helped. There's something about having that energy to play with puts you in such a different head space.
In the hour or so I threw it together I'm actually fairly happy. It's probably a little more radio-friendly than a majority of my stuff. And again it's a bit derivative.
Still, I'm having fun!
But yeah, I'm trying to figure out where this one is going, too. The phrase, "hot mess" is stuck in my head. And, believe it or not, I kinda think it's gonna be a little bit of a feel-good-ish tune.
I just kinda wanna celebrate all the "freaks", "crazies", and eccentrics - the people who can go outside many social conventions, wearing their catsuits and costumes to Walmart, etc - who make this world a lot more interesting of a place. Those who can throw judgment out the window and walk the street unafraid. Those who can remind us (if we let them) that we need to get over ourselves and *be* ourselves.
Yeah, I know it's been done before. So what? I'm writing a non-morose tune! Why it's even a little ... dare I say it? DANCEABLE! *GASP*
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Dizziness of Enforced Solitude
A couple nights ago I randomly thought of an old NYC-era tune of mine that I honestly haven't thought of since. It just kinda sprang back into my mind from nowhere and for no particular reason that I can determine. Sort of analogous to that unexpected visit by an old high school friend, I suppose.
"Hey! Long time no see. Was in the area, thought I'd see if you were still around!"
Bwah?
Progress on this particular song has been minimal at best. However it *did* inspire me to start looking back at older projects. In particular I've been sorting through the stuff - samples, ideas, crazy sounds, etc - that I've storing on this computer since mid 2006.
There's a bunch of stuff on here that I... I can see myself doing some really wacky and awesome things with. Sampling the dishwasher, bowing and striking the disk platter, recording traffic sounds, sampling this and that, digitally messing with said sounds... (Sadly I still have to retrieve some of the sampling I had archived from before my Mac died.)
I just have to figure out _how_. *sighs* I really need to sit down and tackle more of that.
But that brings me to an... interesting juncture in my career right now. I've really been trying to focus on the singer-songwriter stuff and neglecting my more experimental-ish side. I've been drowning myself in my pop-centric tunes in the goal of getting out and playing more.
It's... I want to say it's a necessary evil. But I can't convince myself of that. Part of me is asking myself, "was that the shark we just jumped?" I don't consider most of my stuff _pure_ pop - there's a lot of stuff I throw in that kinda moves it a bit away.
However there is *still* that nagging voice. I mean the pop is a LOT easier to write. I don't have to think anywhere near as much. I don't have to second-guess myself as often...
But... yeah.
I'm still at a loss for lyrics, though. I find the more I work with words, the more I hate them. Or rather I hate my inability to really pull some awesome shit outta them. :/
I've got a good half-dozen songs on the burners right now - all with incomplete lyrics. Phrases, verses, choruses, a bridge here, a prechorus there... I'm beating my head against walls to flesh them out further. And all I'm getting is bloody plaster.
At least both "Cold" and "(I've got a boy) Stuck In My Head" are relatively complete. The latter just needs some more work on the arrangement. The drums are still missing elements and the verses need some more padding/layers. "Don't You See" is also pretty far along. Again, lyrics are missing, I need some more instrumentation, and the drums/percussion need attending to.
Still, that's three songs/demos moderately far along. Yay!
I also got inspired and picked up an older song. Someone forwarded me an article about John Mayer trying to apologize for using the "n" word. The irony? That, upon reading it, that's probably the least of the WTF-isms. I mean, "my dick is a white supremacist"?!?!?
WHAT?!?!?
Well, let's hop, skip, and a jump back a few years. I think it was 2006 - *maybe* 2007. His song, "Waiting On the World to Change" was... somewhere on the charts. I don't remember where. He really wasn't anywhere on my list of things to listen to.
But then, in a fit of fury, a friend pointed out the song to me - focusing on the lyric content. "It's hard to beat the system/When we're standing at a distance/So we keep waiting/Waiting on the world to change" And of course I immediately shared his anger.
As someone in a marginalized community, this really affronted my sense of decency. As someone who faces daily a dozen battles - both internal and external - just for being on this side of a political hotbed, it appalls my sense of responsibility. It reeks of apathy, laziness, and selfishness at best - white privilege and a slushy slew of -isms at worst.
Almost immediately a counter-song started forming in my mind. "Would YOU just be 'waiting' if you actually had to face some of this shit?" is what I want to scream in his face. "Would you just sit around and hope that life somehow got better for you?"
I'd actually just started toying around with the whole DADGAE[*] tuning then, too. Took one little riff that I'd conjured up already and *whisk* I was off. At least for a little bit. Once again the lyrical barrier sorta sprung up and, while I've never completely put it down, I just... yeah. Have a bit to go.
Somewhat recently a few more lyrics had come to mind. A chorus, "I'm glad that your load is light/So you can bask in your privileged life", has existed for a few months. Tonight I cobbled together a second verse and something of a bridge.
So I sat down and recorded what I have. I need to fix some spots. It's ending much too cynically - something which is contrary to the whole point. It's not that we can't fix life; it's that life ain't gonna just fix itself. Plus the bridge is a tad too jarring right now. (I think I just need to calm down a bit on the emoting!)
"Hey! Long time no see. Was in the area, thought I'd see if you were still around!"
Bwah?
Progress on this particular song has been minimal at best. However it *did* inspire me to start looking back at older projects. In particular I've been sorting through the stuff - samples, ideas, crazy sounds, etc - that I've storing on this computer since mid 2006.
There's a bunch of stuff on here that I... I can see myself doing some really wacky and awesome things with. Sampling the dishwasher, bowing and striking the disk platter, recording traffic sounds, sampling this and that, digitally messing with said sounds... (Sadly I still have to retrieve some of the sampling I had archived from before my Mac died.)
I just have to figure out _how_. *sighs* I really need to sit down and tackle more of that.
But that brings me to an... interesting juncture in my career right now. I've really been trying to focus on the singer-songwriter stuff and neglecting my more experimental-ish side. I've been drowning myself in my pop-centric tunes in the goal of getting out and playing more.
It's... I want to say it's a necessary evil. But I can't convince myself of that. Part of me is asking myself, "was that the shark we just jumped?" I don't consider most of my stuff _pure_ pop - there's a lot of stuff I throw in that kinda moves it a bit away.
However there is *still* that nagging voice. I mean the pop is a LOT easier to write. I don't have to think anywhere near as much. I don't have to second-guess myself as often...
But... yeah.
I'm still at a loss for lyrics, though. I find the more I work with words, the more I hate them. Or rather I hate my inability to really pull some awesome shit outta them. :/
I've got a good half-dozen songs on the burners right now - all with incomplete lyrics. Phrases, verses, choruses, a bridge here, a prechorus there... I'm beating my head against walls to flesh them out further. And all I'm getting is bloody plaster.
At least both "Cold" and "(I've got a boy) Stuck In My Head" are relatively complete. The latter just needs some more work on the arrangement. The drums are still missing elements and the verses need some more padding/layers. "Don't You See" is also pretty far along. Again, lyrics are missing, I need some more instrumentation, and the drums/percussion need attending to.
Still, that's three songs/demos moderately far along. Yay!
I also got inspired and picked up an older song. Someone forwarded me an article about John Mayer trying to apologize for using the "n" word. The irony? That, upon reading it, that's probably the least of the WTF-isms. I mean, "my dick is a white supremacist"?!?!?
WHAT?!?!?
Well, let's hop, skip, and a jump back a few years. I think it was 2006 - *maybe* 2007. His song, "Waiting On the World to Change" was... somewhere on the charts. I don't remember where. He really wasn't anywhere on my list of things to listen to.
But then, in a fit of fury, a friend pointed out the song to me - focusing on the lyric content. "It's hard to beat the system/When we're standing at a distance/So we keep waiting/Waiting on the world to change" And of course I immediately shared his anger.
As someone in a marginalized community, this really affronted my sense of decency. As someone who faces daily a dozen battles - both internal and external - just for being on this side of a political hotbed, it appalls my sense of responsibility. It reeks of apathy, laziness, and selfishness at best - white privilege and a slushy slew of -isms at worst.
Almost immediately a counter-song started forming in my mind. "Would YOU just be 'waiting' if you actually had to face some of this shit?" is what I want to scream in his face. "Would you just sit around and hope that life somehow got better for you?"
I'd actually just started toying around with the whole DADGAE[*] tuning then, too. Took one little riff that I'd conjured up already and *whisk* I was off. At least for a little bit. Once again the lyrical barrier sorta sprung up and, while I've never completely put it down, I just... yeah. Have a bit to go.
Somewhat recently a few more lyrics had come to mind. A chorus, "I'm glad that your load is light/So you can bask in your privileged life", has existed for a few months. Tonight I cobbled together a second verse and something of a bridge.
So I sat down and recorded what I have. I need to fix some spots. It's ending much too cynically - something which is contrary to the whole point. It's not that we can't fix life; it's that life ain't gonna just fix itself. Plus the bridge is a tad too jarring right now. (I think I just need to calm down a bit on the emoting!)
- It's You (2010/02/11)
- Don't You See? (2010/02/10)
- (I've got a boy) Stuck In My Head
- Cold
- Evening Gown
- I hereby declare I will pronounce this DAD-GAY. *nod*
Friday, February 5, 2010
Jammin, 2
In what's likely to become something of a reoccurring phenomenon, June and I returned to the Whitpain Tavern tonight for their open mic. This time, however, we arrived sufficiently early - before it even started, actually - and acquired ourselves an actual slot.
w00t!
We dithered about what to actually play this time. Neither of us seemed to have realized we'd actually have to *think* about what to play. And, in the end, we kinda cobbled together a couple songs. I'd do "Road" (a bootLICKERS tune I do a fair amount) and my own song, "So Glad..." while June opted for a couple blues jams.
Oh, both of us are quite experienced onstage now. Neither of us got in front of the mic with any timidity or hesitation. So, from that perspective, it was all good.
Musical performance? Well, that was a slightly different barrel.
We grabbed a couple of the other regulars to join in - a bassist and another guitarist. We know them. They know us. We all know that none of us are newbs.
But... well, "Road" isn't exactly the most straightforward song. It's not crazy, but there's a couple oddball chord changes. And I didn't *quite* warn the bassist enough. Luckily he's the sort who just kinda shrugs and barrels on through with a smile.
It's all good. We're all just having fun, after all.
But of course my own tunes are even a bit more oddball. I intentionally write non-standard structures - skipping sections, tossing in a few unexpected chord changes. I don't write the typical verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/chorus sorts of things. Granted I do have my own formula (and can get a bit too entrenched in it) but it's... well it's just not always the easiest to explain before-hand within the span of a minute.
Especially when the lyrics come a thousand words a minute.
I ran over a couple of the chord changes with him a bit more this time. It's fairly easy chord wise. But then the guitarist jumped in and it sorta... just kinda... took off. LOL
Oh, it was a bit of a trainwreck. I skipped sections left and right, dropped out a whole verse and the break... The biggest problem is that we just couldn't hear each other well enough and I couldn't get enough eye contact from the other guys to properly cue somethings.
*shrugs* But I had fun!
Furthermore it was just another sort of step for me - an evolution of (small) sorts. I was up there just kinda letting go and letting one of my babies just sorta... happen. Oh, I was doing my best to keep on top of things. And I think I did _ok_. But...
*shrugs* It was fun. And I wasn't freaking out. At least not much. I was definitely on my toes. Otherwise, however, I'd already settled comfortably into the mindset of, "it will be what it will be."
Oh, I admit it. I've totally been tempted to chart up my tunes on the chance I'd wind up in this situation. I haven't yet, of course. But I may just do that.
For now? I'm just happy to have done this and pushed myself a bit further forward. YAY!
w00t!
We dithered about what to actually play this time. Neither of us seemed to have realized we'd actually have to *think* about what to play. And, in the end, we kinda cobbled together a couple songs. I'd do "Road" (a bootLICKERS tune I do a fair amount) and my own song, "So Glad..." while June opted for a couple blues jams.
Oh, both of us are quite experienced onstage now. Neither of us got in front of the mic with any timidity or hesitation. So, from that perspective, it was all good.
Musical performance? Well, that was a slightly different barrel.
We grabbed a couple of the other regulars to join in - a bassist and another guitarist. We know them. They know us. We all know that none of us are newbs.
But... well, "Road" isn't exactly the most straightforward song. It's not crazy, but there's a couple oddball chord changes. And I didn't *quite* warn the bassist enough. Luckily he's the sort who just kinda shrugs and barrels on through with a smile.
It's all good. We're all just having fun, after all.
But of course my own tunes are even a bit more oddball. I intentionally write non-standard structures - skipping sections, tossing in a few unexpected chord changes. I don't write the typical verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/chorus sorts of things. Granted I do have my own formula (and can get a bit too entrenched in it) but it's... well it's just not always the easiest to explain before-hand within the span of a minute.
Especially when the lyrics come a thousand words a minute.
I ran over a couple of the chord changes with him a bit more this time. It's fairly easy chord wise. But then the guitarist jumped in and it sorta... just kinda... took off. LOL
Oh, it was a bit of a trainwreck. I skipped sections left and right, dropped out a whole verse and the break... The biggest problem is that we just couldn't hear each other well enough and I couldn't get enough eye contact from the other guys to properly cue somethings.
*shrugs* But I had fun!
Furthermore it was just another sort of step for me - an evolution of (small) sorts. I was up there just kinda letting go and letting one of my babies just sorta... happen. Oh, I was doing my best to keep on top of things. And I think I did _ok_. But...
*shrugs* It was fun. And I wasn't freaking out. At least not much. I was definitely on my toes. Otherwise, however, I'd already settled comfortably into the mindset of, "it will be what it will be."
Oh, I admit it. I've totally been tempted to chart up my tunes on the chance I'd wind up in this situation. I haven't yet, of course. But I may just do that.
For now? I'm just happy to have done this and pushed myself a bit further forward. YAY!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
"Why I shouldn't date" bullet point entry #453,652,335.85
As I mentioned (somewhat) recently, I'm a rather visual person. A lot of my thoughts, lyrics, and songs have a visual element that either inspires them or imbue them.
This time is no exception.
A certain young man kinda entered my life a bit ago. Oh, it's all completely tangential at best. He lives over there, I live here. We've never met in person. We do naught but trade a few comments or such here and there. I'm not going to pretend there's something going on that's clearly not.
But still... A> he's adorable and, B> he's good at taking these pictures that just... OMG. There's something about them - the smiles and looks he captures, sometimes the post-processing... Just make me wanna wrap him in my arms and do naughty nice things.
And, being the irreverent dreamer that I am, I could all easily create this version of him in my head with a personality and being that *I* like and thus fall in love with this concoction that exists solely in my head...
Yeah. See, I actually do that with guys I meet and date anyways.
No, I shouldn't date. :D
But anywho... This time it just sorta sparked off a couple lyrics that, coupled with this tuning I've been using, have sorta spiraled off yet another song. Lyrically I really wanted to be _explicitly_ gay. And both tender/romantic and yet *quite* suggestive.
So far I'm pretty happy with it. Though I'm not quite convinced of the final lyrics. It does almost get a little bad-romance-book-ish. Hrmmm. I also *may* add a tin whistle melody in there as it does border a bit on the too-repetitive side.
This time is no exception.
A certain young man kinda entered my life a bit ago. Oh, it's all completely tangential at best. He lives over there, I live here. We've never met in person. We do naught but trade a few comments or such here and there. I'm not going to pretend there's something going on that's clearly not.
But still... A> he's adorable and, B> he's good at taking these pictures that just... OMG. There's something about them - the smiles and looks he captures, sometimes the post-processing... Just make me wanna wrap him in my arms and do naughty nice things.
And, being the irreverent dreamer that I am, I could all easily create this version of him in my head with a personality and being that *I* like and thus fall in love with this concoction that exists solely in my head...
Yeah. See, I actually do that with guys I meet and date anyways.
No, I shouldn't date. :D
But anywho... This time it just sorta sparked off a couple lyrics that, coupled with this tuning I've been using, have sorta spiraled off yet another song. Lyrically I really wanted to be _explicitly_ gay. And both tender/romantic and yet *quite* suggestive.
So far I'm pretty happy with it. Though I'm not quite convinced of the final lyrics. It does almost get a little bad-romance-book-ish. Hrmmm. I also *may* add a tin whistle melody in there as it does border a bit on the too-repetitive side.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Jamming again
After some dithering, June and I decided to head up to the Whitpain Tavern in Plymouth Meeting, PA for their weekly open mic/jam session. It's often quite fun as usally everyone just sorta piles together in random ways and configurations. As, as it usually happens, we got there *late* and thus only got the last two spots.
This time, of course, I decided to do some solo/front stuff. It's not the best venue for most of my stuff - a bar with a bunch of rowdy-ish musicians. I think many of them would appreciate the writing. But... not the best energy. My songs tend to run just a *bit* too melancholy.
I did some quick calculations and decided to try "Better This Way?", "Dreams" (by Fleetwood Mac), and "Moondance" (by Van Morrison). Well, the last one got dropped off the list as one of the (many) groups ahead of us pulled that tune out. Ah well.
Started off with "Better This Way?" and felt pretty decent about it. Took it a tad too fast though. On the cool-ish side, a percussionist jumped in on it. I really like having percussion on it. But they were bongos and not congos. The higher pitch didn't quite fit in my brain right.
"Dreams"? Was more of a nightmare. I asked a couple guys to hop on and jam with me on it. However, not only did I forget a bunch of lyrics, I do it differently than the original. And there was a bit of a clash. LOL.
Still I'm happy to say I weathered it well. I didn't succumb to my prior bouts of immediate self-loathing. Just took it all in stride as a, "well, this is... interesting!"
And again I got a couple compliments on "Better This Way?"! From a guitarist! Yay!!
Next time I think I will try some other tunes. Perhaps "So Glad..." or "Jesus Year". If I can make the slow songs _groove_ enough, they'll fly. And "Jesus Year" has a certain blues edge to it that I think could go well. Even if it is a slit-your-wrist-er. *heh*
This time, of course, I decided to do some solo/front stuff. It's not the best venue for most of my stuff - a bar with a bunch of rowdy-ish musicians. I think many of them would appreciate the writing. But... not the best energy. My songs tend to run just a *bit* too melancholy.
I did some quick calculations and decided to try "Better This Way?", "Dreams" (by Fleetwood Mac), and "Moondance" (by Van Morrison). Well, the last one got dropped off the list as one of the (many) groups ahead of us pulled that tune out. Ah well.
Started off with "Better This Way?" and felt pretty decent about it. Took it a tad too fast though. On the cool-ish side, a percussionist jumped in on it. I really like having percussion on it. But they were bongos and not congos. The higher pitch didn't quite fit in my brain right.
"Dreams"? Was more of a nightmare. I asked a couple guys to hop on and jam with me on it. However, not only did I forget a bunch of lyrics, I do it differently than the original. And there was a bit of a clash. LOL.
Still I'm happy to say I weathered it well. I didn't succumb to my prior bouts of immediate self-loathing. Just took it all in stride as a, "well, this is... interesting!"
And again I got a couple compliments on "Better This Way?"! From a guitarist! Yay!!
Next time I think I will try some other tunes. Perhaps "So Glad..." or "Jesus Year". If I can make the slow songs _groove_ enough, they'll fly. And "Jesus Year" has a certain blues edge to it that I think could go well. Even if it is a slit-your-wrist-er. *heh*
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